violetbarks - Tumblr blog

[violetbarks]

Right

A witch running her fingers through her doll's hair.

Every once in a while, while mostly petting, she scratches a little bit behind her doll's ear.

It nuzzles up and into her hand.

Today might have been a good day. Or it might have been bad. Or maybe just a passing "normal".

But when she's here with her doll like this...

Everything feels okay.

Everything feels right.

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Attachment

A doll that's clingy.

You're its third witch; the first cast it aside after it failed to choose its words carefully enough, and the second sent it on a trip and abandoned it partway through when its clockwork heart failed.

You run a hand over her porcelain skin, tracing the gold filigree on her forearm as you listen to her clockwork heart going tick, tick, tick.

You repaired that heart. Breathed life back into this doll. Repaired her broken ceramic skin. Gave her a home. She hasn't left that home since.

She waits by the window when you leave for the market, worrying that you won't return, too scared to leave because then she'll get lost again. She stays by your side whenever you're at home.

You don't mind. You love her all the same.

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[THIS USER UNDERSTANDS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DOM/SUB AND TOP/BOTTOM]

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Anxious

An anxious doll.

It has a lot to do in these upcoming days. Several days with several appointments that it needs to keep.

It knows that it can make each appointment! But there's a certain weight to having them all happen in the same general time period.

Perhaps it's for the best that they all happen all at once - as opposed to the doll feeling continually anxious over the course of the entire month.

But, at least for now, it's anxious.

And so it tells its witch!

Who offers to help it with it to those appointments!

Perhaps going with it to those appointments, perhaps reminding it when it needs to go!

The doll, hesitantly, admits that it would like it if she went with it to those appointments.

And she agrees!

A small relief.

But relief nonetheless~

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Hero

A hero doll.

It goes about its days trying to help as many entities as it can.

It doesn't have any special powers, nor can it use magic as well as its witch once could. As a result, it struggles whenever something truly dangerous happens.

But it throws itself into the fray nonetheless.

A mundane, everyday sort of hero facing fantastic problems.

Its a nail-biting affair, watching it struggle against villains that clearly outmatch it.

But one can't help but cheer it on, an underdog against every odd -

Even if its just there to stall for time for a more powerful hero to come along.

Gritting its teeth, clenching its fist, defying every odd.

Standing up again and again and again.

Just like its witch used to do.

A hero just like any other.

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little miss doesn't want to think anymore she just wants to be held by someone

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A useless Doll, floating in the clouds. It can't do anything. It's malfunctioning, getting jittery whenever people look at it.

What good is a Doll that can't be put on display? What good is a Doll that has to be kept in the back of the storage room?

The Mechanic will get rid of it eventually, it knows. It can only wait and hope that today is not that day.

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A Doll that wants to hide.

It closes the lid of its music box and huddles up inside. Its joints aren't very good for curling up, but it tries its best.

In the darkness, it's safe. Hidden from view, it can't be hurt.

It hears the footsteps of the Mechanic outside. It hopes they won't be too mad at it for hiding.

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Defective

A doll lies on the floor in tears.  Everything it tries to do is wrong.  This time, it tripped and broke its witch’s favorite vase.  It cries to its witch “this one is defective”.  Its witch replies calmly, “we know.  And we still love you”.

A doll cries more tears.  It isn’t worthy of love.  It should be scrapped for parts immediately.  Its witch reminds it that will happen when the time is right, just as it does to all good dolls.  Until then, it will be held, cared for, and loved.

A doll curls up.  It doesn’t understand what it has done to deserve such a loving witch, but it will enjoy the time with her it gets.

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the "pleasure to have in class" boy to "such a good doggy" girl pipeline

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trans people who are anti t4t make me so sad. because beyond just not knowing what being t4t means, the fact that they believe that t4t is just being a chaser is indicative of a deeper issue, being that cis people have ingrained the idea that we are unfuckable and unloveable, disgusting by nature, and that anybody who would voice attraction to us, a step further, ONLY CHOOSE TO DATE TRANS PEOPLE, would be a pervert with a disgusting fetish who wont see them as equal.

thats not what t4t is.

t4t is the rejection of the idea that we are inherently disgusting, just because we are in the eyes of a cisnormative society.

t4t is the understanding that we are safer and stronger together as a community than apart.

t4t is seeing your trans boyfriend try on clothes from your old boy wardrobe that you hated growing up but now your least favorite shirt is your favorite because its the perfect shade of red that brings out his eyes.

t4t is teaching your trans girlfriend that has been scared to do her own makeup how youve learned from other trans women, who learned from other trans women, who learned from other trans women.

t4t is doing your testosterone shots together and kissing each others sticks after you put the bandaid on.

t4t is holding the door for your trans girlfriend and showing her the chivalry she didn't get from her dad growing up, but its ok because you can show her now.

t4t is being on the phone with your partner who just came out as trans/nonbinary after seeing you, YOU, live your truth, and them asking you to help them find a new name, the perfect name for them, and you hope theyll carry that part of you forever.

you are trans and that is beautiful. your transness is beautiful. trans love is beautiful. dont let ANYBODY make you feel unworthy of sex or love. THATS what being t4t means.

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I swear to god, nerdy trans women have my whole heart and soul. Yes, baby, tell me more about this game I've never played and might not ever play, show me the things that make you happy.

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This doll is a thing that isn't a thing.

A girl that isn't a girl.

A light that flickers on the precipice of darkness.

A toy that can't be played with no matter how much it may dream of sweat and heat and sounds and lust.

This doll isn't quite right.

It has thoughts of breaking.

It has thought of Rain and Rose's and Lilies.

It has thoughts of being thrown and beaten, callused hands squeezing the breath that isn't breath out of its fragile throat. Thoughts of pain and holes and tears and blood and love.

This doll likes the number three.

Three words repeated in a row, cute and charming.

Three pieces of decoration it holds close to its heart.

Three times it was bound and gagged by itself to watch the lights fade, the red drip onto the page, the flames snuffed far too early in the night.

This doll found a witch.

The witch loves her doll.

The witch cares for her doll.

The doll loves and cares for its witch as well, like a sinner does an angel but in synchronicity with the sinner, the doll fears what the witch may think of its past. Of the harm its caused through means of carelessness and fear. Of the crippling thoughts that no doll should have, yet it still does every moment of every day of every week of every month of every year.

This doll is trying.

This doll is getting better.

This doll wants to get better.

This doll writes and sings and cries and walks and runs and tries its best not to fall in between the cracks of reality, into the space that exists between spaces and houses the darkest moments of this world and all others, the space that crushes and screams and bleeds and begs for the end of all things, the end of hearts and minds and souls and light and li-

The witch holds her doll. Tells it a story, one of a world ending. The story is sad, but not. The story is one of peace. Of a quiet and happy end, when things are ready to end. No screaming or bleeding or begging, just a restful sleep that never ends and comes at dusk.

It's the story of the doll. It's end won't come with fear. Nor will it come with pain and strife. It will be peaceful and come when the doll's time is up and not a second sooner. The witch has gifted her doll with the return of its voice, though it doesn't remember losing it.

This doll is a thing of comfort and warmth.

This doll is a girl with dreams of love.

This doll is a lighthouse that guides others to port.

This doll is no longer a toy, but a being of pleasure and happiness and love and passion.

This doll loves her witch

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Good

A witch that wakes from a nightmare.

She can't stop apologizing to her doll.

Saying that she's sorry, that she's inadequate, that she should be making the doll's life happier, that it must surely regret being with her.

But the doll has no idea what she's talking about. The time that it's spent with her has been the happiest of both its lives.

But she still can't stop apologizing for her faults, both dreamed, imagined, and otherwise.

But the doll remains patient. How could it be anything other than patient?

It will help bear her through this storm.

She's done so much good by the doll.