Tasteless Engine (2)

Tasteless Engine (2)

Suddenly, the puppet’s eyes flutter open and the doll stares at you.

Flabbergasted, you jump back and stop touching them. The porcelain puppet slowly, weakly sits up with numb arms. All you can do is stare at the living doll with wide eyes, while the mass elevates itself until it stands up before you.

“Who are you…?” the porcelain puppet asks with a low, groggy voice. Definitely a boy.

“I could return you the question! My name is […] and I’m a toy maker.” You reply.

“Good. I have been looking for you.” Says the puppet casually, as if he was not crying on your floor a few minutes ago. He starts walking in your bungalow with his chin raised high, as if he was the owner of this land. His torn clothes barely cover himself, and his joints and articulations creak with every move he makes and you decide to go after him.

“Wait! So, you know me, but what’s your name and how are you… Living?! Aren’t you a puppet?” You ask while walking behind him, in pure confusion.

“That’s none of your business. As for my name, I don’t have one.” Replies the doll boy. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing a book with his hand.

“Just a theater piece. It’s La Comedia Del Arte. You never heard of it?” You reply, taking the book and handing it to him. The nameless puppet takes the book and examinate it carefully.

“Well, just call me Scaramouche then.” He says after reading a few pages.

“Scara?

-Scaramouche” He objects, refusing the nickname. He puts back the book on the self.

“This bungalow is pathetic, but it is not the reason of my visit. I saw the sign near your house saying that you are a toy maker. It kills me to say it but I need your help.” After saying that, Scaramouche takes off the clothe that was hiding his bust. At the place where should be his heart if he was human is a huge hole, the porcelain is fissured and painting is damaged all around the hole and even slightly melted. You stare at it in awe for a few minutes. Never, in your life, you saw a human-puppet with a hole in the chest. Look then up at him in his eyes, which are a bit damaged too.

“… What happened to you?” You ask, shocked.

“None of your business too.” Answers the puppet with a dark face.

Promptly, you put him on your table and observes his features with a lot of caution.

“I never saw a doll this damaged. I’m not sure I’ll be able to fix all of that.

-What about my heart?

-You had a heart?

-Yes. But in an access of rage, I pulled it out of my chest, that’s how the hole… You know…”

You look at him, you can’t help but feel bad for him. Sure, he is not human at all, but it is almost like it, is it not? And mostly, he had a heart. You don’t know how it is possible, but you stopped asking yourself question when a living puppet started to cry before you.

“Sadly, I can do nothing for a heart-broken puppet, asides from repairing the damage, I can’t give you a heart.” You tell him softly, looking at him in the eyes.

“Then I’ll find someone who can.

-No one can. Scaramouche, a heart isn’t a clock! It is not mechanical, you can not buy it, or repair it with a hammer, nails and tools. I can’t do anything for this heart, nor no one can.

-You’re worthless! I should have known it when I crossed your door! I’m leaving, now.” The enraged doll jumps off the table and heads toward the living room.

“If you go outside, you’ll be even more broken!” You protest. “I can fix you! And maybe your heart will grow back! I bet you’re not that stupid…”

After you said that, Scaramouche looks down, lost in thought. Leaving the bungalow would be counterproductive, and after all, maybe those promises you tell him are true. In this case, it is not in his interest to leave. He turns to you.

“Alright, you win, human.

-I have a name.

-Don’t get me started or it’s you who’ll end up broken.

-So you’re staying here?

-Unfortunately.” The puppet rolls his eyes.

I grew up with those actually!

Yeah My R may be a weird kid song but what yall know about Miss Wanna Die

Tasteless Engine (1)

You always dreamed of being a doll maker. Since your tender childhood, they were always around you. To comfort you. To play with you. To hear you cry when no one was there. The dolls are pretty, and they were there. You lived in a small animated town. Everyday, the scent of fresh-baked bread would wake you up before going to the boutique. This boutique is a small cabinet, stuck between two big houses in a tiny alley. Your family supported you when you told them your dream, and you ended up being the apprentice of the best doll maker of the region (it is not a very popular job).

But one day, this sweet life stopped. The master you followed so whole-heartedly died, and they were no place in town to welcome you. So, after weeks of thinking about your future, you decided to buy a tiny bungalow in the Snowy mountains near the border of the country. There, you would create your own dolls and toys, and sell them in the nearest town, down the mountain. The weather would be harsh, but you had to do this.

And that’s how you ended up living there. Today is easily the coldest day of the winter, and you abandoned your work on the toys and dolls you will sell at the end of the week to snuggle in all the blanket you could find near the fireplace.

You are drinking your third tea in a row in hope to warm yourself a bit more. Your eyes are half-lidded with tiredness and you could not feel your limbs when a big “BANG” resonates in your ears. Alarmed, you leave your mug by the fireplace and quickly go check every room to assure that nothing is broken with the harshness of the wind, blowing and howling outside.

Nothing wrong.

Reassured, you walk back to the fireplace when you hear a lamentation outside, coming from the door. You freeze. You try to listen a bit better to those cries, when the tiny broken voice whines a heart-breaking “please” and you rush to the door to open it.

A bit of snow and cold wind enter your house. There’s no one at the door. You follow the directions of the cries and lower your eyes. They set on a humanoid thing laying on the ground, covered with snow. Your heart jumps and you clumsily grab the body to bring it inside the small bungalow and you quickly shut the door.

“Who are you?!” you shout, louder than you wished.

But the strange thing can only make weird cries and the sound of pieces of wood cliquing. Slowly, you walk toward it. You brush the snow and discover a huge puppet, messily wrapped in violet torn silk. You brush its long dark purple hair and realize that this hair is almost human-like. The puppet seems to act exactly like a human, so maybe it is cold. You put some of your blankets on the body. It groans.

After a some time, the unknown mass stops crying and sobbing, and you assume that it is asleep. Carefully, you step toward it, curious to see what exactly is this body. You delicately remove the torn violet silk, only to reveal a beautiful face covered by messy long dark purple hair. Their traits are well-defined, thin, elegant, and androgynous. They look like a teen, but their skin are white and virgin of any imperfection, glowing... Like porcelain. Your curiosity is picked, and you decided to touch his cheek (just a finger won't hurt, right?), which is strangely solid. You touch it again : you can't be wrong, what is laying on your floor is a human-sized porcelain doll.

@isthewispvideocute

You should put wisp venti in a jar. with sticks and leaves and stuff

It is a creature to be studied

Venti outfit in Emilie perfume; from Hamelin's Fanmade animation: ❝The Scent That Belongs to You❞

Source!

LONG LIFE TO BRAM

GUYS DW!

BRAM IS NOT GONNA DIE!

All we need to do it chant "BRAM WILL LIVE" × 100 and threaten asagiri like how we did when dazai and fyodor were gonna die!

nah but srsly when dazai, fyodor and sigma (and maybe chuuya too? i forgot) "died". the rest of the month, the fandom was pretty much going beserk over it and they lived!

dazai was in the verge of extinction. did he die? no.

fyodor also was in the verge of extinction. did he die? no.

BRAM WILL LIVE! somehow

Asagiri will find a way! he must!

and now if the fandom becomes more miserable and mentally unstable then asagiri has no choice but to make him live! or else he'd probably be brutaly murdered by one or more of us.