An April Day, Another Side

A witch daydreaming of an April day.

Of times when she dedicated her all to repairing a broken doll that was hit and runned by a passing car.

How that doll used to play so many pranks on her - how it was such a horrible, horrible doll that showed no restraint.

Except for, of course, the vaunted April 1st.

Why did it choose April 1st to abstain from playing a prank on her, she could never quite know.

Perhaps that was a prank in and of itself.

...

But that's beside the point these days.

What matters most now is that they have each other.

When they had spent so long apart.

One in pieces, the other desperately trying to fix the other.

It's good to be together again.

...

"Miss! Your tea is getting cold!"

The witch snaps out of her reverie.

And she raises the cup to her lips and takes a sip.

A doll and a witch, taking tea together.

It's tradition at this point.

After all.

It's April 1st.

In memory of a dream.

A doll that dresses up cuter than usual!

Its witch asks after the occasion! After all, it's a rarity that her doll chooses anything other than its casual wear!

A dream, it responds.

In memory of a dream.

And to wish well to those it dreamed of.

this one has a lot of fond memories playing FFXIV, so if it could have inspired another entity to give the game a shot, then it's glad! this one hopes that you will enjoy FFXIV as much as you can!

The Moon

And the doll - it suddenly begins to list off information about the moon.

Its radii, its mass, the names of its oceans, the landings made on it, its composition, more and more and more -

And its witch, she turns down the radio, listening as closely as she can while she drives.

in love with a dream

a doll that fell in love.

with a dream.

but, no matter how hard it tried, it couldn't get back to sleep in time.

it couldn't get back to sleep at all, in fact.

it just lied there, tossing and turning.

and, in the end, all it was left with was a fading memory of having fallen in love with... someone.

and it laments as much to its witch!

who, admittedly, has to suppress her jealousy!

to think that her doll would fall in love with anything other than her!

but, more than that, she wants it to be happy.

so she offers to try and make it go back to sleep! to search its memories for anything of its beloved that she may strengthen those memories before they're forgotten!

but the doll laments that it's much too late awawa

but it's grateful to the witch for being so kind to it.

that it loves her.

that it loves her so much.

she blushes a little!

late at night

the witch watches her doll sleep.

its breathing is steady.

occasionally, thought, it will breathe deep and sigh.

occasionally, it will turn over in its sleep.

the witch...

she can't help but fondly watch.

or, well, she doesn't just watch, admittedly. she's reading a comic on her phone and occasionally glancing at the doll.

her doll.

hers.

what she wouldn't give to hug it right now - but she doesn't want to wake it.

and so she contents herself with watching.

reading and occasionally glancing.

sooner or later, she will away to sleep herself.

but not yet.

not yet.

Life goes on.

A doll without a witch.

Her constant presence in its life came to an abrupt end.

It doesn't know what to do.

It's left with a house with rooms still bearing her fading touch.

Rooms in which they once lived together.

Rooms that it can't bear to repurpose.

It continues to exist without her, hour by hour, day by day, week by week -

Her influence still keenly felt despite her absence.

And, lost without her...

Life goes on.

=====

Inspired by jyn, fallen angel.

Grieving Together

A weeping witch.

And a doll that... Understands why she's crying.

It's something that neither of them want to admit happened.

But it did.

Her tears come quietly.

She holds a fist to her chest.

The doll leans against her shoulder.

She shakes with each quieted sob.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

And there's nothing either of them can do to fix things.

It's a wound that only time can seal.

If not ever completely heal.

Gods.

Gods it hurts.

But maybe they can grieve together.

Halo

An angel.

They resent their halo.

Despise it.

And yet... They listen to it.

And so.

They give in to its screaming - its urging to do the right thing".

To give more and more of themself in service of others.

To the point that it begins to hurt -

Past the point that it begins to hurt -

Because they are still a "hero".

They are still a "good person".

=====

Inspired by Eliza, Maid Angeldoll.

Prayer

The doll clutches its hands to its chest -

And recites a prayer -

To any god that may be listening -

To please -

Please... -

Keep its witch safe.

Rending

A doll that sings.

It bends over as a note its holding turns into something nearing a screech.

Tears begin to slip from its eyes.

And, when the song begins to move on without it, it doesn't join the accompaniment.

And, abruptly, it stops.

Its witch watches in silence.

It breathes heavily.

It falls to its knees and begins to sob.

And its witch -

She watches in silence.

Beautiful

The witch remains still as her doll works on her face.

She refuses to look in the mirror.

Once upon a time, she wouldn't have minded what she saw.

What she couldn't see.

But, as time grew on her, it grew more and more painful.

Until there came a point where she decided, at last, to stop looking at all.

She didn't care what she looked like.

What she didn't look like.

...

But her doll changed that.

Even when she still refused to look in the mirror.

Even if all she hoped was that her doll liked what it saw.

Eventually, her doll stands up straight, tools in hand.

"So? How do I look?"

What she could see.

What she couldn't see.

None of it mattered.

"Beautiful, Miss."

=====

Inspired by Io!

We'll figure it out together.

"We'll figure it out together."

The doll looks up at its witch.

She stares unblinking at the television.

Her grip around its hand is tight. Almost enough to hurt.

The doll lays its head back down on its witch's shoulder.

And nods.

Twilight

A doll and a witch sit together on a park bench, holding each other's hand.

They watch the children play on the swings, on the play structures, climbing to the tops, and riding down slides.

Once upon a time, they would have been doing the same.

But at this point, they're perhaps just a bit too old, a bit too fragile.

Tho, that doesn't mean they can't find joy in watching others be happy.

...

It's getting to be twilight.

Both in the day's time and their time in this life.

But that's okay.

They can spend their twilight years together.

Sharing this world together.

The doll crouches down and hefts the beam onto its shoulder.

It draws the attention of the nearby workers.

They murmur about how strong it is. That it's surprising how much strength is packing into such a delicate looking body.

The doll purses its lips, choosing instead to focus on its task.

Skyscrapers don't make themselves, after all.

...

It was... Admittedly difficult to get this job.

The taskmaster doubted that it was physically fit for the job.

It just asked for a day to show its abilities.

Against their "better judgment", they agreed.

The rest is history.

...

It and its witch need the money.

For what? For everything, really. Living in civilization is expensive.

Countless times, they have considered just...

Running away together.

...

But they would miss the rest of the world.

And so, as cruel as the world can be, they stay for its beauty.

And so they work their jobs to keep their home.

Their off days matching so they can spend existence with each other for as long as they can.

Sharing this world together.

Flying Warmth

A doll flying with its witch!

They sit upon the witch's broom, suspended in midair!

They talk about the weather, the twilight, how their days have been, what work has been like - and so much more.

It's a little cold up here, one of them admits.

And the other takes them into an embrace!

Not quite warm enough, even so, one mentions with a laugh.

And the witch weaves a spell of warmth for the two of them.

And the world...

It passes them by.

Please

A doll that received a message from its witch.

That things could be going wrong. That she needs to deal with "stuff".

Anxiety gathers in the pit of its stomach.

But it manages a responsory message.

That it's here with her.

That it hopes she stays safe.

And it prays to whatever god may be listening.

Please.

Please...

Take care of its witch.