18+ only | She/It/Doll | Former Magical Girl. Some disturbing and uncomfortable themes on occasion. DMs open to mutuals only. This account is for my Empty Spaces work.
Its mother cries and screams and it doesn't understand why. A changeling? Is that what it is? Does it matter if it will be treated the same regardless? Perhaps perception is reality?
What is one to do with a changeling? It's a child, it's what the mother wanted, all the effort and pain she went through for it, she can't get rid of it so easily but it will never be what she wants from a child. Perhaps the changeling stole away her real child in the night, perhaps it tricked her and has been here the whole time, maybe it corrupted her child. She mourns a possession she never had. She loathes it, she loves it, and it will never understand.
What is the changeling to do? It can hide, pretend, be the child she wants... but they both know it never can; it's born wrong, it has committed some unknown and unforgivable sin, but maybe it can mitigate, maybe it can delay. Perhaps it grows into its role, the troublemaker, the trickster, an actively antagonistic relationship, cathartic for both to get their frustrations out, but a cycle of building pain and hatred can only end in death. Eventually they all make the same choice: to leave. A bird pushed from its nest, by its will or its mother's, it cannot stay longer without crippling itself.
The changeling can only hope wherever it ends up will be less hostile to its existence. It will continue to be defined by that sense of wrongness, an outsider even to its own kind, but perhaps some day it will find a form that suits it better.
No no no, see, a puppet obtains power at the expense of agency, a doll obtains meaning at the expense of agency, and a plushie obtains unconditional love at the expense of agency. The thing currently mauling you was already powerful and self-actualized when I brought it under my sway, so when you beg me to 'call off my puppet' you should really be saying plushie instead. Try again, m'kay?
Someone tagged this "dog = plushie?" and then deleted the reblog immediately but I would like to congratulate them on being the only one to see my vision.
The lady of the house sits comfortably in her study, catching up on some reading. Beside her on the table is a gold-rimmed, porcelain teacup, an empty platter, and a small silver bell. She picks up the bell and rings it.
The door to her study opens, and a woman walks in. She wears a set of circle-framed glasses on her face, and is clad in a well-kept uniform. A black and white dress, custom-tailored and maintained with an almost religious fervor. Braided hair topped with a small headpiece completes the look, a look that her lady is very fond of.
"Is there something I can do for you, my lady?" Her voice is soft and sweet. She speaks from her mouth, rather than her chest, and not too loudly.
The lady of the house sighs and leans back, setting her book down on her lap. Her gaze turns to the maid, whose practiced posture is as still and serene as a mantis on the hunt. She isn't a Doll, but she might as well be one.
"I would like your company, if I may?" The lady responds. Her own voice, while certainly ladylike, is comparatively loud and boisterous. It's a naturally gifted voice, not one achieved through training or practice.
"My company?" The maid responds. "It would be both an honor and a pleasure, my lady." She answers, not betraying any emotion or personal feelings in her tone.
"Wonderful, please, have a seat then." Her lady says with a smile. The maid does so, finding the nearest seat and planting herself in it.
"I don't know many of my servants very well." she starts. "I would like to begin with you, my favored maid." She says, flashing anther smile.
The maid tenses up for a moment, but forces herself to relax. "I.. See." She says, her apprehension clear. "What would you like to know about me, my lady?"
The lady, either not picking up on this or not caring, begins. "Do you have a name?"
"Hollyhock." comes the sharp, curt answer.
"That's the name you chose as my maid. But how were you called before?"
"I would rather not say, my lady."
"And why is that?"
"Because it is no longer my name, my lady."
The lady ponders this for a moment. "Very well." She says. "What did you do before? How were you employed? Did you have any hobbies?"
After a pregnant pause, the maid responds. "With all respect, my lady, I fail to see how any of this is relevant to becoming more familiar with me."
The lady furrows her brow. "And why would you say that?"
"You are asking about who I was, not who I am."
"Is who you were not important?"
"No, my lady. It is not."
The lady pinches the bridge of her nose. "I hired a maid. If I wanted a Doll, I'd have commissioned one." she mutters.
The maid tenses up again, fighting to keep the ticking inside of her silent. A task that became more and more difficult as it increased in speed and intensity.
She quietly checked to ensure her gloves were adequately concealing her joints.
"Well, it's clear that you don't want to have this discussion with me." The lady says with a sigh. "You are dismissed."
The Doll stands and offers a polite bow before leaving the room, and the lady resumes reading.
After another hour of reading, the lady reaches for the bell. She holds it in her hands for a moment before ringing it.
The door does not open. After one minute, two. Then five. Ten.
She rings the bell again.
And nobody enters the room. Not after one minute, then two, five, and ten.
The lady of the house sits comfortably in her study, catching up on some reading. Beside her on the table is a gold-rimmed, porcelain teacup, an empty platter, and a small silver bell. She picks up the bell and rings it.
The door to her study opens, and a woman walks in. She wears a set of circle-framed glasses on her face, and is clad in a well-kept uniform. A black and white dress, custom-tailored and maintained with an almost religious fervor. Braided hair topped with a small headpiece completes the look, a look that her lady is very fond of.
"Is there something I can do for you, my lady?" Her voice is soft and sweet. She speaks from her mouth, rather than her chest, and not too loudly.
The lady of the house sighs and leans back, setting her book down on her lap. Her gaze turns to the maid, whose practiced posture is as still and serene as a mantis on the hunt. She isn't a Doll, but she might as well be one.
"I would like your company, if I may?" The lady responds. Her own voice, while certainly ladylike, is comparatively loud and boisterous. It's a naturally gifted voice, not one achieved through training or practice.
"My company?" The maid responds. "It would be both an honor and a pleasure, my lady." She answers, not betraying any emotion or personal feelings in her tone.
"Wonderful, please, have a seat then." Her lady says with a smile. The maid does so, finding the nearest seat and planting herself in it.
"I don't know many of my servants very well." she starts. "I would like to begin with you, my favored maid." She says, flashing anther smile.
The maid tenses up for a moment, but forces herself to relax. "I.. See." She says, her apprehension clear. "What would you like to know about me, my lady?"
The lady, either not picking up on this or not caring, begins. "Do you have a name?"
"Hollyhock." comes the sharp, curt answer.
"That's the name you chose as my maid. But how were you called before?"
"I would rather not say, my lady."
"And why is that?"
"Because it is no longer my name, my lady."
The lady ponders this for a moment. "Very well." She says. "What did you do before? How were you employed? Did you have any hobbies?"
After a pregnant pause, the maid responds. "With all respect, my lady, I fail to see how any of this is relevant to becoming more familiar with me."
The lady furrows her brow. "And why would you say that?"
"You are asking about who I was, not who I am."
"Is who you were not important?"
"No, my lady. It is not."
The lady pinches the bridge of her nose. "I hired a maid. If I wanted a Doll, I'd have commissioned one." she mutters.
The maid tenses up again, fighting to keep the ticking inside of her silent. A task that became more and more difficult as it increased in speed and intensity.
She quietly checked to ensure her gloves were adequately concealing her joints.
"Well, it's clear that you don't want to have this discussion with me." The lady says with a sigh. "You are dismissed."
The Doll stands and offers a polite bow before leaving the room, and the lady resumes reading.
After another hour of reading, the lady reaches for the bell. She holds it in her hands for a moment before ringing it.
The door does not open. After one minute, two. Then five. Ten.
She rings the bell again.
And nobody enters the room. Not after one minute, then two, five, and ten.
