A witch. She accidentally looked in the mirror. Her eyes... They seem so tired. Dark circles under her eyes... Wrinkles... Like she hasn't slept. Maybe even for days. She takes a deep breath and sighs. Nothing new.

A tired doll. It did a lot today. Its feet hurt. It wants to lay down. With its witch. Cuddle closely. Warmly. Kiss her hand. Kiss her forehead. Run its fingers through her hair. Hold her close. Tell her it loves her. ... It's tired. And dreamy.

A witch. She posted a painful story some time ago. Speaking the painful truths about her upbringing How she turned out to be a relatively good entity, despite all the abuse that she suffered. That, despite everything, she still wishes to be a glimpse of paradise.

A witch that takes off her headphones. She reclines in the silence. From constant noise to... Nothing. ... It's... Loud, isn't it? The way that silence can seem so oppressive when, all at once, it bears down upon you.

A witch in the shower. She turns up the heat. She buries her face in her arms and knees. This isn't the first time that she's done this. In fact, she does this almost every shower, if not every entirely. She listens to her thoughts.

A witch staring at a blank page. She's been doing this for an hour so far. No writing, occasional distractions, but she always come back to the page. Her doll brings her a cup of hot chocolate! Somewhat distractedly, she thanks the doll. Holds the cup with both her hands...

A doll in the mines... Its witch is there too! ... Why??????? Because, clearly, if it's good enough for her doll to do, then she can do it too! The doll shakes its head, bewildered, saying that it was built for these kinds of tasks.

A witch reading through her old works. This one was called "Time Capsule". Featuring a doll with external memory drives, looking through the data contained within those old drives and combing through those precious memories. She was proud of this work.

A witch. She sits in the shower, listening to her mind's voice ask herself over and over again, "Are you okay?" And then... It suddenly sounds different.

"I saw you talking with that adventurer earlier. What was the conversation about?" "Oh, um... He told me that I shouldn't tell you or else you'd be mad at him." "Oh? Did he insult my cooking?" "No! He just... Told me a bad word." "I see."

"I am the poet they sent, when they suggested that they "should have sent a poet..." And, yet, the only words I can muster are..." "I love you." 'And... I can only ask... Is that enough?" ...

Yearning. She's beautiful. Radiant. Breathtaking. She's so much that it isn't. And yet she treats it as an equal. It couldn't have possibly deserved her love. Not with all the baggage that it carried. And yet she loves it anyway.

A doll. It waits patiently in the darkness. It knows its witch is coming. She wouldn't abandon it. No matter how shattered it may be. And so it waits. Fearless. Until All at once. It feels light shine on it again.

A witch searching for her doll. It was still in the arcology when it collapsed. She, at the very least, needs to find its core, but... Its readings are all over the place. ... That... won't deter the witch, however. She will find what she's looking for. She must.

A cat! She lies across the witch and doll! Both of them are petting her! She's purring! One of them stops for now. The cat meows! "Okay, okay, I'll keep petting you." A happy cat. A very happy cat. ...

"I'm cold. Are you?" "I don't feel cold." "So you must be warm!" "I don't feel warm or cold, you never built that function into me." "Oh... I was going to ask if I could hug you and share our body heat." ... "I would still like that." ''Yay!"

"This world is going to eat you up and spit you out." "You're... Probably not wrong. All things considered, I'll probably die an early death, some way, somehow. "Aren't you afraid of that?"

A witch crying into her doll's shoulder. She keeps on apologizing. That she should be stronger. That she shouldn't be putting so much pressure on the doll. That it deserves more than to be just a shoulder to cry on.

A witch and a doll invited to a naming day party! ... No one seems glad to see them present. They draw stares and side-eyes. No one talks to them, all actively avoiding them. The parents... Are, admittedly, also the same.

A witch with a heated blanky! It was a gift from her doll! Who she... doesn't see as often as she used to. ... Through this heated blanket, it keeps her warm in her coldest moments. And, quietly, she whispers it a word of gratitude. Even if it isn't around to hear it.

A doll in bed. It's been feeling out of it the entire day. Its witch takes care of it. Makes sure that it's fed, watered, warm and cosy... The doll feels kinda bad putting all this on her.

A witch reading her diary. Something that she kept for a short while about a game she played. Strategies, stories about her experiences, what her character was thinking when things happened...

They say that writing is a skill, not unlike a muscle that you develop, that, as you go further, you begin to find writing easier. But why is it, for me, that the more that I write, the harder it seems to get?

A witch. What does it mean to be a witch, anyway? To take the world as you see it, and mold it to your will. Or something along those lines. Right? Right...? ... A witch. She has no dolls. She has no magic. And yet she is a witch all the same. How?

A doll. It stands in front of the door to its witch's apartment. It knocks on the door. And waits. As it waits, its attention drifts. To the hallway. To its belongings. To the time that has separated them. All by its own doing. ...

The phone rings. The witch recognizes the number. He steadies himself. Steels himself for what the conversation could bring. And... He answers the phone. "Sir?" "Yes, my doll?" A moment passes. And then an audible sigh from across the line. "I missed you."

A witch. His doll has moved out. ... It's been... A long time since they had started living together. And now his home feels... Empty. ...

"Sir?" "Yes, my doll?" "I think... That I need to live apart from you for a little while." ... "... Very well." The witch fidgets. "Would you... Do you..." "I have it all handled." The witch nods. "Okay, then... When will you be moving out?" "Tomorrow." "Okay, then..."

"Sir?" "Yes, my doll?" "I think... that I need a bit of space from you." ... "Okay, then." The witch scoots over to the opposite end of the couch. "Is this better?"

The doll coughs. And, almost immediately, its vital signs start to waver wildly. The witch rushes over. "How were you exposed?" The doll, between intensifying coughs, manages a, "There was a cat." "Where cat?" "I don't know." "Well that makes my job a little bit harder."

"I love you," says the doll. "I love you too," says the witch. A quiet exchange. Common, but necessary. A reminder that, through all their struggles, they still love each other. Even when the night grows deep and their doubt grows strong.

A doll with scars. It used to self harm. It isn't ashamed of that fact. It remembers how it used to hide them. How it used to be ashamed. Like it was some sort of weakness that it had to resort to such methods.

A dateable dolly! Perfect to suit your every need, whatever type of partner you want! Fully customizable, and easily trained! It won't make the same mistake twice, and, if you change your mind later, it will simply relearn! And, if it isn't perfect?

"Your sins will never be forgiven." The doll speaks to the witch, whose gaze is locked on the floor.

A witch. She crawls into bed, exhausted from her day out. But what a wonderful day it was. She got to go on a date with her doll! It asked and she accepted! It took her to all of its favorite places! Then they went to see a movie... Then to a restaurant...

A witch having posted two similar stories. She only just realized when looking back on an older piece having just finished a new piece. The older piece had the same sentiment as the newer piece. ...

"I love it when you laugh." "I always thought my laugh was ugly." "Not to me. Your laugh makes my heart sing." "Oh, you flatterer." "It's the honest truth." The witch giggles a bit. The doll looks on, smitten. Gosh, how can she be so beautiful?

"Hey Miss?" "Yes?" "When do you think this will end?" "Any time we want it to." "Is it really that easy?" "If you're asking that, then maybe it isn't." ... "Then... Would it be easy for you, Miss?" "If it isn't easy for you, then it wouldn't be easy for me."

"Your hair is soft!" The doll looks up at his witch, whose hand lays atop his head. "Is it now... I never really noticed." "Do you do anything to it?" The doll chuckles. "We both know that I haven't. Just shampoo everyday."

A knock on the doll's door! Its witch! "Yeah?" it calls out! The witch opens the door! In her hand are several cookies! "Want a cookie?" The doll nods! "Yes, please!"

A doll in the military. Not a combat doll. It was never meant to see any violence. But, when its witch was drafted, it wanted to do its part too! ... That's... Not how this works. That's not how any of this works. But, at this point, it's too late to back out. ...

They know now. The witch fidgets. She told her parents her preferred name and pronouns. They know now. ... She looks down at the floor. Her doll holds her hand. ...

A doll and witch lying on the floor. It's floor time! Quiet passes between them. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes.

S:"Sir..." R:"Yes, my doll?" S:"You'll miss me when I'm gone, right?" R:"Of course." S:"I promise to stay alive for as long as I can." R:"Thank you, my doll." ...

A doll and a witch. They stand together on the precipice. Hand in hand. Looking out over the void beneath them. D:"If I weren't here... Would you jump?" The witch looks toward her doll. Y:"Maybe..." She sits down on the ledge. The doll sits down next to her.

A doll daydreaming of an April day. Of a story that it told on April 1st, when everyone would be expecting pranks. Of a doll that was destroyed. Of a witch that tried tirelessly to fix it. ...

A combat doll. It sits up in bed, a cold sweat dripping down its back. It swings its legs over the side and stands up. It leaves its room and walks to the rec room. Its handler is there. She nods. The combat doll nods back. It takes a seat next to her.

A witch in bed. She lays there with eyes open. Thoughts pass her by. Work tomorrow. She should sleep soon. But she doesn't really feel that tired. She sighs. Turns over in bed. And closes her eyes once more.

A witch. She sits at her desk, staring at her keyboard. She's done just this for about an hour. Her doll tugs at her arm. She looks its way. "It's okay." The doll smiles. "You can just try again tomorrow!"

The doll serves the witch. Why? Is it because she's a witch? Do dolls just naturally gravitate toward serving a witch? No. It's because she gave it a house and home when the doll had none. Was the criteria for joining in her home service? No.