#the celestial toymaker x reader
Note
Maybe a toymaker and reader he stumbles across Y/N drawing in the park and they both get inspired off of each other and fluffness.
Or she goes into his toy shop looking for a gift for a niece/nephew and toymaker just falls head over heels
I went with the second idea as I had a bit more inspiration for that one, hope that's okay <3 (also this title is so freaking dorky but it fits and also references one of my favorite Christmas songs so)
Wanna Hippopotamus for Christmas (The Toymaker x reader)
Warnings: The Toymaker is a massive simp for the reader, the reader is out buying something the week before Christmas (the horror), both The Toymaker and the reader are massive dorks
It was a quiet morning in The Toymaker's shop, like most of them were. He didn't really mind, as he was used to being alone, but still, some company would be nice.
It was when he was mulling over his thoughts that he heard the bell over the shop door ring, signaling someone had come inside. He put down the toy train he'd been tinkering with and left his workroom in the back of the shop so he could greet whoever it was who'd entered, and that's when he saw you.
Something about you was different than anyone else he'd ever seen before, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was so awestruck he hadn't even noticed you'd walked over towards the counter where he was until he heard you clear your throat to get his attention, effectively snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.
"Um, hi," you greeted, giving him a friendly (if somewhat awkward) smile.
The Toymaker quickly put on a charming face, trying to ignore just how much your smile made his heart soar. "Welcome, welcome! Tell me, what can I help you with today?"
"Well, I need to get a gift for my niece," you began, "for the holidays, and I know it was stupid of me to wait this long, but I just kept putting it off, and-" You let out a sigh, shaking your head some.
"Anyway, regardless of the reason, I was wondering if maybe you had something? She's, like, obsessed with anything hippo themed, so if you have, like, a stuffed animal or something..."
"I think I have just the thing! Give me one moment, and I'll go retrieve it from the back for you." The Toymaker flashed you a dazzling smile before heading to one of the storage rooms in the back.
It was true that he most likely did have something back there of the nature you were looking for, but that wasn't the main reason he'd offered to go check. What he really needed was a break away from you and your enchanting, orb-like eyes.
This was ridiculous. He shouldn't be feeling this way, especially over a human. But he couldn't help.
He tried to push those conflicting thoughts to the side as he looked for what he'd gone to do in the first place; find a hippo. A plush one, anyway.
You were still standing at the counter when he came back out, drumming your fingers along the edge of it with a bored expression on your face, though he noticed your eyes light up at the large stuffed hippo he was holding.
"Sorry I couldn't find anything smaller. It is the week before Christmas, you know," he lightly chastised.
"Oh, it's perfectly fine. She's gonna love it," you reassure him with a warm smile, that same smile that made him want to bottle it and put on a shelf so he could have a chance to look at it whenever he wanted to.
Part of him thought maybe he could do that, seeing as he had the power. He could if he truly wanted to, but the idea of willingly putting you in harm's way for his own personal gain only made him feel... guilty? Is that what this feeling was?
You'd pulled your wallet out while he was lost in his thoughts, already rifling through it to find what you needed in order to pay. "So, how much do I owe you...?"
The Toymaker quickly shook his head at the question. "Nothing, it's on the house." He could've laughed at how wide your eyes seemed to get at his words.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to put you out of your way, or anything."
God, you were adorable. "I'm certain. Although... perhaps, you could come visit me again, sometime soon. If you'd like."
He couldn't believe the words that just came out of his own mouth. You were going to be upset, weren't you? And then he heard soft laughter.
"Yeah, totally. I'm a little busy for the next week or so due to the holidays, but I'll try to make it back in before the new year."
His face broke into an excited smile. "Wonderful! I look forward to it."
You smiled back, though this time you added a little wink, too, something that made him weak in the knees. "Great! I'll see you then."
You picked up the rather large hippo plush from where it'd been set on the counter and headed for the door. Once you got back outside, you gave him one final wave through the window of the shop before leaving.
The Toymaker just watched, not being able to do much with the intense feeling of his heart hammering in his chest. He did know one thing, however.
He couldn't wait to see you again.
Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3
Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?
🏷 taglist: none yet to tag
#doctor who#doctor who imagines#doctor who imagine#doctor who x reader#doctor who fic#the toymaker#the toymaker imagines#the toymaker imagine#the toymaker x reader#the toymaker fic#the celestial toymaker#the celestial toymaker x reader#doctor who fluff#the toymaker fluff#gender neutral reader#gn reader#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader
176 notes
·
View notes
Text
🎱🎲♟️The celestial Toymaker x reader🧸
⚠️warning this is not show accurate⚠️
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~headcannons~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have never done this type of thing before so please do not come for me
♤♡◇♧
He took you in when he found you roaming on the streets. You had just ran away from you foster home again and did not pack properly and sat in an alleyway shivering with you hands wrapped around you trying to preserve any heat you had left.
He walked into the alleyway and stopped right in front you you.you lifted your head to look up from his shoes to him Persians robes to his smiling face. Oh how that smile burnt into you. Your glassy eyes looked up at him and you sniffled from the cold.
"My my, who is this? Children should not be all alone at this time. Especially in the cold!"
You bring your sleave up to your face and wiped away the numbness from your cheeks."I am not alone!" You tried to lie to the stange man in hopes off him leaving you alone instead of sending you back.
"Oh but you are,aren't you?"
He asked with that same smile. "Please sir you cannot send me back there!" You where ready to plead with the strange man as you staggered to your feet.he gave a chuckle and kneels now eye level with you."would you like to come with me instead? You see I am a toymaker and yet have no one to share them with would you like to that someone?"
You nodded your head with glee and he picked you up and held you tight yo his chest so you where shielded by his Persian robes as he walked off into the night.
♤♡◇♧
You then lived with him for as long as you could rember you sent hours running around the toy store playing with planes and cars and dolls off all types. The toymaker made sure to make sure to teach you how to behave properly and be very well mannerd. Learnt how to take care of yourself and how to function alone if he was ever gone. Not that he would ever be far and even if he was he always had his dolls keep and eye on you.
♤♡◇♧
Once you where running around as a child does but then you heard " (y/n)! für die Liebe, stop running! You will break something and get hurt" you nodded you head but waited from him to turn back around before you started running. But like and stupid child he ran straight into a cupboard causing a puppet to fall off and hit the ground with a loud !bang!. You fell to the floor with a small scrape on your arm and wide eyed as you held you breath.
"(Y/n)! Bist du dumm, Mädchen? kannst du nicht zuhören!?"
You turned around you see him standing right behind you. Your eyes started to well with tears and you apologised profusely. "I am sorry it was an accident I didn't mean it!" You cried as you cluched onto the hem of your dress.
He only sighed as he picked you up and sat you up on the counter as he cleaned up your arm. "Listen to me next time".you nodded your head as he wiped the tears away from your eyes.
♤♡◇♧
#the toymaker#docter who#toymaker#docterwho60th#celestial toymaker#fanfic#the toymaker x reader docter who#the celestial toymaker x reader#the celestial toymaker x reader docter who#the toymaker x reader#toymaker x reader#celestial toymaker x reader
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
Breathing ー The Toymaker
ー
Summary: You are having a panic attack. Someone unexpected helps you.
Author's Note: Okay, okay I am figuring this thing out, bare with me. Now I am writing about the 11th doctor. It's always fun to find new things especially things that I can write about. I am getting better at writing in english. :) And thank you so much for the likes in my last post. <3
ー
You felt your limbs going numb. Your breathing became more uneven, you were hyperventilating. Were you going to die?
It sure felt like it.
You felt your brain getting foggier.
"No, no, no", you pleaded barely getting words out of your mouth anymore.
You weren't in control anymore and it frightened you. Your feet were taking you to the only place you felt safe. However you weren't certain if it was a good idea.
The night was cold and dark, making you shake even more. The shadows grew longer making you feel paranoid.
Finally you could make out the warm light pouring out of the familiar shop window that always had something to be amazed by.
Mr. Emporium's Toy Shop.
You started crying even more, was it even possible to cry more at this point? Apparently, yes.
With your last strength, you rushed towards the door getting inside the shop. Hearing the shop's door's bell tinkle sweetly and getting overwhelmed with the warmness of the shop made you feel better.
You took wobbly steps forwards praying with each step that your knees wouldn't betray you.
You felt tired while trying to stop hyperventilating, you fought against the temptation to sit on the floor. Maybe you could sink through it and disappear from the world and from this feeling?
However it seemed like your body decided on your behalf when you felt your knees buckle. You closed your eyes accepting your fate.
But you didn't come in contact with the floor like you expected. Someone had gotten a grip of you, after a moment you were safely on their lap on the floor.
Your head was resting against a leather apron and you opened your eyes hesitantly. Tears were making your eyesight blurry, but you could make out the man recognising him instantly.
Feeling finally safe you closed your eyes fully resting against him. You had missed the worried look on the man's face and how his blue eyes were clouded with emotion.
Despite your best effort a sob escaped your lips opening the gates for new tears.
The Toymaker had been around for a very long time, but now he had absolutely no idea what to say or do. He had never comforted anyone, he had never cared. He wasn't able to care. Right?
"Meine Liebling...", he whispered afraid if he spoke too loud something bad would happen.
Has someone hurted his precious doll?
Rage filled him even thinking about someone making his precious doll cry. He would torture them, give them much more worse fate than death.
"I-I'm so-sorry", you stuttered finally getting your breathing under some control. The Toymaker was rubbing your back making your body relax. His scent was also comforting you. Oh how you didn't want this moment to go away.
"Why are you ge-apologising?", the Toymaker asked confusion evident in his voice.
"I don't want to be a burden", you mumbled burying your head against his chest, trying to hide away from the world.
You were nervously fiddling with your cold fingers.
"I wouldn't keep you alive if I thought you were a burden", the Toymaker bluntly stated, you snorted with laughter. You had to appreciate his rather odd way of comforting you.
"Thank you", you whispered feeling your eyes become heavier with each passing moment.
"Let's get you to bed, ja?", the Toymaker suggested with a quiet voice. It was weird seeing this very dramatic and harsh man act so quietly and softly.
With your last drop of energy you nodded agreeing to his plan.
You were in his arms, when he carried you into somewhere in bridal style. You were not really present anymore, the fog had reached you fully finally.
You however felt when you were put down on the softest and fluffiest bed ever and getting tucked in, the sheets were warm and soft. Your hair strand was gently brushed out of your face behind your ear.
A soft kiss was planted on your head while you sighed out in content.
"Can you stay for a moment?", you asked voice a bit raw from all the crying.
"Of course, meine Liebling"
You felt the bed dip when the Toymaker sat on the edge while he stroked your hair.
The Toymaker wasn't emotionless, at least when it came to you. He would do anything to keep you happy. To see your smile, to feel your warmth when you hugged him. You made him feel all these, human feelings. You were his soft spot, you had him utterly wrapped around your finger. And you didn't even know that.
Hearing after awhile your relaxed breathing he couldn't help, but smile at the sight of you sleeping.
He really did love you.
Wait. He did what?
ー
#the celestial toymaker x reader#the toymaker x reader#doctor who image#doctor who#toymaker x reader
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
One of you once said that my Yuus had pets like monster high dolls. I took that seriously. To here take it.
What are the Yuus' pets:
🪡-Tailor!Yuu- Lace the Show Poodle
🩺-Vet!Yuu- Hank the tank, the tortoises
🔫-Special Forces!Yuu- Suzette the lop-eared bunny
🌊- Marine Biologist!Yuu- Florian the dumbo octopus and Isabella the cuttlefish
🪶-Harpy!Yuu- Krik the pet rock (its a very nice rock)
🌷-Gardener!Yuu- Cashmere and Cotten the Highland calfs (Vil named the first one)
🍴-Chef!Yuu- Hamantha the pig
♨️-Onsen!Yuu- Lotus the Spa cat
🌙-Immortal!Yuu- Orpheus the star Raven
🎮-Otaku!Yuu- Mojo the ring-tailed lemur
🔮-(???)Yuu- Creature the thing
🎬-Theater kid!Yuu- Viola the Songbird
✒️-Writer!Yuu- Chekhov the Owl
💉-Nurse!Yuu- Hope the mourning dove
⛓️- Disciplinary Committee!Yuu- Knight the police dog and that weird monitor lizard that follows them around
🧹-Maid!Yuu- Lavender the Packrat
💎-Noble!Yuu- Duke the Dire wolf
🛼-Delivery Service!Yuu- Trash Bandit the Racoon
🎉-Jester!Yuu- Barnaby "Bozo" Wigglesworth the goat
🪀-Toymaker!Yuu- Sprocket the steampunk puppy
🎨-Artist!Yuu- Ink the Chinchilla
Dancer!Yuu- Grace the duckling
(There now you have it!)
#tailor!yuu#vet!yuu#special forces!yuu#marine biologist!yuu#harpy!yuu#gardener!yuu#chef!yuu#onsen!yuu#immoral!yuu#celestial!yuu#otaku!yuu#(???)!yuu#theater kid!yuu#writer!yuu#nurse!yuu#disciplinary committee!yuu#maid!yuu#noble!yuu#delivery person!yuu#jester!yuu#toymaker!yuu#artist!yuu#twisted wonderland#yuuniverse#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland yuu
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dollface - the Toymaker x Real Toymaker!Reader
As a toymaker, you are delighted when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM'S TOYSHOP. But when you meet its eccentric owner - one eponymous 'Toymaker' - you enter into an impossible game with higher stakes than you ever imagined…with the risk of your deepest fantasy coming true.
Rating: Mature. Tags: Dollification; Toyification; Truth or Dare; Reality-Bending; Humiliation; Psychological Torture; Fluff; Teasing; Touching; Forced Dancing; Mentions of Neglect; Cosmic Horror; Horrible Fake German. Reader is presumed female, but has a complicated relationship with gender and enjoys feminine terms of endearment.
requested by the lovely @chronicbeans!! whilst this was originally meant to be a few-paragraphs long headcanons bit...but then it sprawled into a 13,000 word fanfic. my apologies to yourself, and to any German speakers in the audience 🙈💖 you can also read this on AO3. i hope you enjoy!
Toys are your life.
For as long as you can remember you have been fascinated by all manner of toys: everything from teddy bears to zoetropes; spinning tops to yo-yos. As a child you weren’t just interested in playing with toys—you wanted to reach inside of them, pick them apart, and understand every little detail about how they worked. Much to the chagrin of your parents, you spent more time trying to put your toys back together than you did actually playing with them.
But all of your alternative playtime paid off. Now, as an adult, you run a modest yet successful local toymaking business, with your own vendor stall at the market and a popular online shop. Much of your work is custom, using vintage materials to replicate toys of the past, and you occasionally trade and sell real old toys too. As a result, you have something of a monopoly on the local toy scene, and feel you know every single toymaker and toy-collecting enthusiast in a fifty mile radius.
That’s why it’s a real shock when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM’S TOYSHOP late one night.
The storefront is a gorgeous assault to the senses. Parked in the middle of the cold, grey street, the toyshop beams out crimson and gold onto the snow drifts, with all manner of classic toys peeking out at you through the windows. You are delighted to see an assortment of downy plush bears and hand-painted model motor cars crowding the shelves: so many it feels like the toyshop itself might burst at the seams. Your giddiness only increases as you get closer to the window. You can make out all sorts of fun, bright shapes within: countless colourful toys beckoning you and begging to be taken home.
Yet it isn’t these treasures which catch your eye the most. Right at the back of the shop, near the counter, you spy a shelf lined with dolls. They are beautiful even at a distance: likely from the early 20th century, masterfully painted and wearing a fine rainbow of little dresses. Even from your vantage point you can see the impeccable craftsmanship. There’s immense detail in their delicate hands, and if you’re not mistaken, each doll has a crop of real human hair.
Perhaps most intriguing of all is the eyes. Their glass sheen looks so sad and wistful…far more emotion than a doll should be able to communicate.
If you didn’t know any better, you would believe the dolls were alive.
Oh, I shouldn’t , you tell yourself. I’m much too old now to be playing with dolls…and I keep all my old ones locked up anyway. I shouldn’t deprive some kid of a toy.
This is a deeply silly excuse, and a hypocritical one. The vast majority of your clientele are adults, as are the brilliant toymakers you’re proud to call your friends. This is the perpetual double-standard you constantly believe and are always trying to rally against: that you are uniquely strange, and deserve to be ridiculed for your interests.
The curious thing is that this idea doesn’t apply to toys more broadly…only to dolls. You have made countless dolls throughout your career, and yet owning dolls and enjoying them is something you’ve long nursed a hang-up over. But that is a can of worms you refuse to open up today. No , you decide, today I am going to be a normal adult who is confident about their interests and doesn’t feel an ounce of shame! I am going to go into this toyshop and look at those dolls, and that’s that!
With your mind made up, you shift your backpack onto your shoulder, take a deep breath, and push through the toyshop’s door.
The door slams shut behind you with the tinkle of a bell. You are immediately enveloped in warmth, and the delicious scent of varnished wood enrobes you like a fine dress. You can’t help but close your eyes and inhale: somehow, the toyshop smells just like your childhood.
“Hallo, meine kleine Mädchen! Komm in, komm in, be ge-removings yourselves from dee kalt! It is ein horrid evenings, is it not?”
You open your eyes in surprise, and see an older, greyish-blond-haired man leaning against the counter. He’s dressed in a most whimsical fashion, wearing a soft white work shirt coupled with a maroon waistcoat, and a brown apron stuffed with woodworking tools. A spotted ascot around his neck and a pair of pince-nez balanced at the end of his nose complete the look.
The man smiles at you like he’s known you all his life. You feel like you’ve been transported to another time.
“It is,” you agree, as you shake the snow drifts from your boots. “So sorry for dropping in so late—I’m surprised you’re still open.”
“Ah, but I am always having times for dee beautiful Fräulein,” says the man with a coy wink. “But vot is it zat is ge-bringings you here?”
You have to stifle a giggle. You know enough of the language to know the man’s German is terribly off, and his accent is borderline offensive. However, you also know that folks in the toymaking community tend to be eccentric, and you can forgive a corny, theatrical accent for the wonderful atmosphere of this shop. Who are you to judge if he wants to LARP as a Bavarian thespian?
Before you can reply, the strange man is suddenly beside you…although you don’t recall seeing him move. He has also removed his pince-nez. You blink, a little taken aback. How did he move so quickly? You wonder if you’ve eaten enough that day.
“I’m…a toymaker,” you say, trying not to sound freaked out. “I’ve never seen your shop before, and I thought I knew everyone in town who makes toys. What’s your name?”
The man’s eyes are blue, you notice—terribly blue, and sparkling in the soft light with unspoken mischief. “You are beings ein toymaker? Vy, zat is a coincidence…” He taps the side of his nose. “Many peoples ge-calls me by many names. But zey most oftens call me the Toymaker, und nothing else. It be gettings dee point across, nein? Und was ist your name?”
You tell him, and the Toymaker’s mouth splits open in a wide grin.
“Das ist ein schöner name!” he says enthusiastically. “Truly, a magnifizent fit. It is not often zat I am gettings other toymakers in mein shop…I vonder, vot does your eye ge-fallen upon? Could it be mein cuddly collection of teddies? Oh, ja, I sees you are ge-needings ein soft companion for dese frosty nights. Or could it be mein train? Choo-choo! it goes, round and round all dee livelong day! I am ge-havings many customers mit ein eye for dee train.”
The Toymaker’s voice is smooth as butter, rich and inviting, and each word he speaks seems to add a little more colour to his delightful environment. You look around in awe at all of the toys, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the place. Just moments ago the shop seemed so small, with the abundance of toys seriously crammed in on the shelves, but now it looks impossibly vast: a veritable sea of playful delights. The little choo-choo train in question chugs along on its rails and moves past the doll shelf, drawing your eye back to their pretty little figures.
“Ah, dee Katze hast gotten your tongue,” says the Toymaker. He gestures to the dolls, and the gold ring on his right pinkie finger catches the light. “I too ams often becomings stricken by dee beauty of mein dollen…zey took me many nights to make, ja. Oh, but ge-look! Eins ist out of place. Zose fingers are so fiddly! Und dee hair…zo many eveninks ge-spended brushing out zeir tiny curls."
You watch as the Toymaker reaches up and begins deftly rearranging the dolls. His fingers are long and nimble, and they move with such care and attention, placing each doll’s tiny hands neatly in their laps and smoothing down their dresses. When you’re a toymaker, you grow to appreciate a pair of well-practised hands, and there’s something undeniably… charming , about this Toymaker and his cartoonish whimsy. It’s silly, but you feel a little heat rising in your cheeks. The attention he’s paying to such small, delicate objects…
…well, it’s only natural that your mind should wander to more practical applications of such hands.
“The dolls are gorgeous,” you say. “Do you offer any toymaking classes? The dolls I make have a bit more of a modern touch.”
That’s when the Toymaker laughs, and it is a strange laugh: it tinkles out of his mouth like a jingle, in a musical, ‘Ha ha ha HA ha ha ha!’
“Oh, mein dollen are sehr modern…moreso zan you sink,” says the Toymaker. He gives you another wink, as it seems he likes to give them out for free.
That’s when you feel the little clench in your chest. Oh dear, he really is quite handsome. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d caught feelings for a quirky, attractive stranger, and they were often not as well-dressed as the Toymaker. You have a tendency to get caught up in the realms of imagination, and have thought up more than a few daring trysts with pretty-faced people with whom you’d only exchanged a couple of words. You ought to grab a doll, leave, and have a quiet little panic attack about this interaction at home.
You force your eyes away from the handsome man and back to the shelf.
That’s when you spot her.
Somehow, a doll had escaped your notice. Right in the middle of her sad-looking rainbow sisters is another doll, simply and prettily done up in a powder-blue be-ribboned frock. Unlike the other dolls, this one is smiling in a dimpled way, and her eyes sparkle with a magical sheen not unlike that of the Toymaker’s. You note with some amusement that the doll has the same eye colour as you—hair colour, too. This isn’t strange on a doll, but it gives you the same jolt of satisfaction and déjá vu you get when meeting someone who shares your name.
“Ah,” says the Toymaker (now on your other side). “Dee dollen…zey speak to you, ja? Zey are ge-having ein chitter-chatter, all high up on dee shelf. Vot fun games zey have ven I ge-leaves the shoppen!”
Dollen isn’t even the German word for dolls, you know—it’s Puppen. But you get the sense that the Toymaker’s German accent is less an earnest recreation (and it’s certainly not his natural accent), but a pantomime version intended to amuse and entertain.
“I’m sure they do,” you say, but you’re distracted from the Toymaker’s little act. The longer you look at the doll, the stranger you feel.
You move closer to the shelf to get a better look, and are startled by what you discover.
It isn’t just that the doll on the shelf has similar hair and eyes to you: they’re both the exact same shade, even down to the imperfect flecks in your irises.
You study the doll intently for a moment, blink, and— what? The doll’s hair is now the same length as yours. Was it always? No, you could have sworn just a moment ago it was not just a completely different length, but style.
You rise up on your tiptoes to get a better look at the doll, and are baffled by what you see. It’s as if detail is stacking on the doll right before your eyes, the way some video game maps load in piece-by-piece. You watch as texture is added to her hair, and light pools in her eyes. This level of craftsmanship is uncanny; it’s as if the Toymaker went out of their way to create a doll which resembles you.
“How did you do that?” You turn to the Toymaker, confused. “Did you know I was coming here?"
The Toymaker’s mouth contorts into an offended pout. “Now, you ge-vounds me. It is ein special privilege, having another Spielzeugmacher in mein shop. Tell me, vot do you sink of her hair? Es ist pretty, ja?”
“But that doll looks exactly like me,” you say.
You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. Suddenly the warm, cosy atmosphere of the toyshop feels more claustrophobic and oppressive. The Toymaker looks unbothered; he rests his chin on his hand and contemplates the shelf.
“Zere ist ein…certain resemblance,” says the Toymaker, with an unusual, almost French affectation on the last word. “But you are just ge-havings, as zey say, ‘von of zose faces’. Ja, das ist richtig: ein dollface. Puppengesicht. All smooth und sveet. Vy, vot a lucky lady you are! She simply must be goings home vith you.”
You’re scrambling to work out what kind of practical joke this is, and how the Toymaker was pulling it off. You’d met a few eccentric toymakers with God complexes before, as they tend to go hand-in-hand: you’d briefly dated one who designed escape rooms in his spare time. But this is on another level…creating a doll which can be imperceptibly altered to resemble a person in real-time? You’d never heard of such a thing, and you can’t think of a non-creepy reason why someone would go to the trouble of making one.
Oh, hang on a minute, you think. This guy might just be a genius.
“This is a marketing trick, isn’t it?”
You pull away from the Toymaker and lean against his counter, feeling terribly smug for having figured it out.
The Toymaker puts his head on one side, quizzical. Playing dumb, you think.
“I am not ge-followings you,” the Toymaker says.
“You make dolls of the people you see ahead of time,” you explain. “People you know who will come in here at some point…collectors, other toymakers. Then you wait and put them on the shelf when they come in, maybe behind some hidden panel so you can spin them around when they get close. Then when they come in, it’s like they’ve found the perfect toy!”
You’re so proud of yourself for having cracked the case, you want to pump your fist in the air. For a moment, you envision yourself wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking a pipe. Go me!
But your victory is short-lived. During your diatribe, the Toymaker’s bright, childish grin had frozen on his face, and remained in place even during your brief mental celebration. But now the smile slowly slips like a mask peeling away from too-tight skin. In its place sits a stormy frown: one which clenches the muscles and wrinkles of the Toymaker’s face into an expression which says ‘insulted’.
“For shame,” says the Toymaker. “That’s twice you’ve accused me of cheating now. You really do me a disservice. I am bound by the Rules of Play, and would never resort to such cheap tricks.”
What the hell…? The Toymaker’s accent is completely different. Where before his voice was a thick soup of faux German, now it is a soft British breeze: a proper, formal accent which speaks the way trees rustle. You gape at him, dumbfounded.
“Your accent is different,” you can’t help but say. You’re no longer just leaning against the counter—you’re actively pushing into it, with the edge of the countertop pushing into the small of your back.
The Toymaker raises an eyebrow at you, and smirks. “You are not half as stupids as you are ge-lookings,” he says, slipping the German back on like a heavy cloak. “But zen, I know you are playing ein game mit me, aren’t you?”
You stare at the Toymaker. Something has shifted: the air is thick with a tension you cannot identify, but which you want to run away from. You keep staring, thinking that if you look away from those too-blue eyes for even a moment, you might just lose your grip.
You know for a fact that if you look back at that doll on the shelf, it will look even more like you than before.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and you wish you weren’t lying.
The Toymaker laughs his musical laugh and wags his finger in your face. “Sehr naughty!” he says. “Oh, how natürlich dee lies kommen to sie, mein Schatz. You be ge-knowinks how to play games…zis ist ein lecker human mind game, und you are ge-tryings to deceive me.”
His voice slips smoothly back into the British:
“Do you think I don’t know all about your little fantasy?”
Your eyes go wide, and a choked noise escapes your mouth.
No. There is no way that this man…this impossible toymaker could possibly know. You were always so careful, so sure to keep it all to yourself! Familiar shame and embarrassment wash over you in a hot wave as the Toymaker looks at you, looks into you, as if he can see the inner workings of your mind. Your mind grabs at the old, familiar justifications the way one might grab a newspaper for modesty if they found themselves naked on a bus. It’s perfectly normal to have fun little flights of fancy. Everyone plays make-believe sometimes, right?
“But zey are embarrassing, zese thoughts of yours,” the Toymaker giggles. “Not dee kind of thoughts you can share mit deine Mutter. I am not ge-thinkinks zat you have shared your desires mit ein Partnerin…” There goes the eyebrow again, cocked sardonically to match the wicked curl of his lips. “Is zis true?”
You feel nauseous. The firm pressure of the countertop underneath your palms is all that stops you from shaking. It feels as if the Toymaker is probing the inside of your skull, and using those skilled fingers to strip back the whorls of your brain and grab at the fleshy thoughts inside.
“Get out of my head,” you say quietly.
“Oh, but zis is dee game I ge-likes!” says the Toymaker. “Humans mit zeir internal struggles. Desires mit dee most fun ideas, but you are too ge-frightened to say vot you vant. So you play games mit dein loved ones…dee hunting und dee exasperation. Oh, you simply vill not communicate!"
You don’t know when the Toymaker got so close to you, but now he’s towering over you, with his hands firmly planted on either side of the countertop. You’re close enough to count the spots on his ascot, and examine the year-lines etched around his mouth and eyes. When he smiles those lines crinkle, but not naturally: it’s the way a puppet’s arms reach for the stars when the marionette twists them upwards.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” you whisper. “I’ll buy the doll and leave.”
This close, the Toymaker radiates heat. He smells like rose petals and Christmas.
“You could…but zat vould be no fun,” says the Toymaker. “I propose ve solve zis in a more interesting vay…”
The Toymaker waves his hand across your field of vision…and transforms the centre of the toyshop. A small wooden table complete with chairs has popped into existence just in front of the counter. You gape at the sight. How did he do that?!
“Let us play ein game,” he says. “If you vin, you can take dee doll free of charge. But if I vin…”
The Toymaker’s smile cracks like the earth preceding a quake.
“You vill stay vith me und play mein games forever!”
You have to give yourself credit for reacting as well as you did. Most people, if they were faced with a crazy fake German man who seems able to read your mind, may have had a breakdown or made a run for the door. But you’ve seen a lot of anime, and you understand that if you are challenged by a handsome, powerful man with magical powers and a delightful hairstyle, you cannot refuse the call. Your brain has shifted from This should be impossible, to It’s game time.
“Alright,” you say slowly. “You’re clearly very powerful. It seems like if I play a game with you, you have far more to gain than I do. A doll isn’t a good enough prize.”
The Toymaker smiles at you. “Ein girl after mein own heart,” he says. “How about zis: if you vin, I vill show you exactly how I make mein dollen, complete vith a demonstration. Zat is generous of me, nein?”
His words are laced with sinister venom, and it’s all you can do not to be poisoned.
“And I’m guessing that if I refuse your game, something terrible would happen to me?”
The Toymaker hums low in his throat. “Hm…not accepting mein game is always ein option…ja, you could do zat. Und yet…”
You inhale as the Toymaker brings his face terribly close to yours. The skin of his cheek brushes your own. You can feel his soft breath as he whispers into your ear, British once more:
“I know you are so curious as to how I make my dolls. If you leave now, you’ll never know. And I think if you wanted to leave, you would have done so already.”
The Toymaker pulls away from you, leaving you with your face on fire. He’s right. In less than ten minutes, the Toymaker has sussed out your fatal flaw: your damned unstoppable curiosity. There have been countless times where your life would have been improved if you’d kept your nose in your own business…but this is different. The Toymaker isn’t just dangling a carrot: he’s already dug his hooks in you, and you are being reeled in with every second you spend looking into those impossibly blue eyes.
When you next blink, the Toymaker has moved again. He is sitting in one chair, his hands folded primly in front of him.
“Name your challenge,” he says.
You weren’t expecting this: you thought he would have a game in mind. “Any game at all?”
“There isn’t a game I don’t know,” says the Toymaker coolly. “It is common courtesy to allow the guest to pick the party game.”
You can’t help a nervous giggle. “This is a weird kind of party,” you say.
The Toymaker acknowledges this by inclining his head. “Choose.”
Your mind scrambles over dozens of options. There are so many games…board games, card games, strategy games. Do we need equipment? How long does the game have to be? What games can you play with just two people? That’s when your brain starts to run in a very different direction, and a variety of… game positions …flash through your imagination with impunity.
A flush scalds up your neck. You look at the Toymaker, who raises his eyebrows in a knowing way.
He knows exactly what you’re thinking.
You want to scream.
“Truth or Dare!” you blurt out.
That gets his attention. The Toymaker leans forward, his eyes quizzical. “Zat is non-traditional…yet apt,” he says. “Could it be zat you are ge-vantings me to force zat fantasy out of you, meine Liebchen?”
“No,” you lie. “I want you to tell me what you are, and why you’re doing this to me.”
“Then let’s get down to business,” says the Toymaker. “We take it in turns to ask each other Truth or Dare. A Truth corresponds to a question which must be answered truthfully, and a Dare is an action which must be carried out. The player earns one point for each Truth or Dare successfully completed.”
The Toymaker steeples his fingers together. You can’t pull your eyes away from them.
“If you refuse to complete a Truth or a Dare, or you contravene the rules of the game, you lose a point…and must complete a forfeit.”
The way he says ‘forfeit’ sends a shiver down your spine. “What kind of forfeit?”
“Oh, dee usual,” says the Toymaker casually. “Somesing difficult or humiliating. I do not ge-liken to pre-plan zese things…I am preferings to be spontaneous.”
You are starting to regret your choice of game. This is a man who knows more about you than you’ve ever told your closest friend…surely a game like Truth or Dare would be pointless for him? So you ask: “Why would you want to play this if you can already tell what I’m thinking?”
The Toymaker frowns. “A good question,” he says. “The Rules of Play prevent me from having any unfair advantage over an opponent. Although my abilities will remain intact, anything which would tilt the game in my favour is out-of-bounds. I am physically incapable of cheating, and would thank you not to bring it up again. There are only two states of being which matter: winning, or losing. I intend to win.”
Fair enough , you think. “And what if I cheat?” you say. “I have a pretty good poker face. If you can’t look inside my head during the game, what if I just lie to you? How could you tell?”
The Toymaker chuckles, bearing his mouth wide. To your horror, you see there are far, far too many teeth in his mouth.
“I can always tell when someone is lying to me.”
“Six turns,” you counter, voice trembling. “Whoever has the most points at the end of those turns is the winner. And…you can’t choose Truth or Dare more than twice in a row.”
The Toymaker seems impressed by your game-making skills. “Agreed,” he says. “Let us begin.”
He snaps his fingers, and all the lights in the toyshop go out. Above, a stagelight snaps into existence, pouring heat and light onto your scalp in a cascade. The Toymaker’s striking features are illuminated by this shift in lighting, casting the lines of his face with the severity of stage makeup. You swallow: he looks divine.
“Would you like to go first?” he asks politely.
“...No,” you say after a moment. “I think that honour should go to the house.”
Your gamble pays off: you realised that the Toymaker is a man with great respect for the rules of the game, and this offer makes him smile.
“How generous,” says the Toymaker. “Truth or Dare?”
“Dare,” you say.
The Toymaker taps his finger to his lips, considering. Then, he says, “Destroy something precious to you.”
It takes a few seconds for you to really process the Dare. When it hits, you are baffled. What kind of Dare is that? you want to say…but you don’t bother saying it aloud. What kind of toyshop is this—and what kind of ‘toymaker’ is he? All you need to know is reflected in the sadistic gleam in the Toymaker’s eye. This wouldn’t be an ordinary game, and contesting his requests would be fruitless. All you can do is make your move.
You take a deep breath, and reach down into your backpack. You didn’t leave the house this morning planning to bring anything precious to you, but you are a sentimental person by nature, and know you have one item which fits the bill. It’s with great sadness that you pull out a small, ratty teddy bear and place him on the table. The bear is old and beige and dressed in a crimson band leader’s outfit, complete with a hat and red-laced riding boots.
“Oh, ein teddy bear!” laughs the Toymaker, delighted. “How charming. He is quite dee looker, isn’t he?”
“He’s the first bear I ever made,” you say. “I was listening to some 90s British pop music, and the idea for his design just…popped into my head. I scribbled it down and pulled him together from scraps of fabric and repurposed stuffing in just a day. His name’s Neil…I keep him with me for good luck.”
Something about what you said is terribly amusing to the Toymaker, but you don’t know why. “Ein handsome name indeed,” says the Toymaker. “But I am afraid zat vill not be enoughs to ge-save him. Poor Neil. Now…vill you complete your Dare?”
You take a deep breath. There was no turning back now; you’ve accepted the Toymaker’s game, and the predatory sheen in his eyes tells you that you can no longer just walk away. So you pick up Neil, grab hold of his little teddy bear ears—
And tear his head off, sending stuffing careening all over the table.
“Oh!” says the Toymaker with a false gasp. “Vot an unfortunate end for poor Neil. I did not know zat you have such ein cruel streak.”
“Shut up,” you say, trying not to look at Neil’s decapitated corpse.
Even though he’s just a teddy bear, you feel like you’ve just killed a defenceless animal. Neil’s lifeless button-eyes gaze up at you imploringly, as if asking why you’d do such a thing. You knock Neil’s head off the table and focus back on the Toymaker.
“That’s one point to me,” you say. “Truth or Dare?”
The Toymaker grins at you like a shark. “Dare.”
There are a thousand questions ricocheting around your head, but you ask the one which you know will keep you up at night: “Tell me how you did that thing with the doll.”
The violence of the Toymaker’s laughter makes you jump. He actually covers his mouth to quieten himself, but his shoulders shake even so. “Oh nein, nein, nein, you are ge-makings ein mistake!” he says. “You cannot be askings a question ven I have chosen Dare. Oh, meine Schatz, you have your lost your point…and must receive ein forfeit.”
Your veins run cold. “What? No! That was never in the rules!”
“It is a common rule,” says the Toymaker, suddenly serious. “What is the point of distinguishing between a Truth or Dare, if a Dare can be a Truth?”
You want to protest…but his logic is infuriatingly sound. It’s exactly the kind of argument you could see yourself making if you were playing the game against a friend. You try to think of some other get-out-of-jail-free card—anything which would allow you learn how the Toymaker made that doll look exactly like you—but you come up short. You slump in your chair, and resign yourself to waiting for the next round.
“Oh, do not ge-look so sad,” says the Toymaker. In mock sympathy, he makes a little tutting sound against his teeth. “Now, about zat forfeit…ah! I am ge-knowings just dee sing.”
The Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes burst into a flock of doves.
You scream and leap up from the table, batting away at the birds scrambling over your skin. They coo and and flap in your face before struggling upwards and flying into the rafters. Shocked, you look down to find yourself still fully clothed…but with a wardrobe change. You are now clad in a beautiful, powder-blue dress. The fabric is inhumanly soft and threaded through with white ribbons.
“Oh my God!” you yell. “What did you do?!”
The Toymaker is doing his best to stifle a giggle behind his hand. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I think the colour is rather fetching on you.”
You clutch at the skirts of your dress, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. There is no way this is possible…you hadn’t felt anything, not even a shift of your own clothes or the sliding of new fabric against your skin. One moment you were wearing your own clothes, and the next you weren’t. It’s as if your clothes were merely a covering, and when they transformed into doves and flapped off, they left only your dress behind.
You move your legs under the layers of fabric, and blush when you discover you’re wearing a pair of frilly stockings. As you stick out your feet, you can see your feet are clad in a shiny pair of Mary Janes. It’s with a sick feeling in your stomach that you realise what the dress is.
It’s the same dress that the doll on the shelf is wearing.
"You're sick," you hiss.
The Toymaker cocks his head to one side. “Indeed?” he says. “How odd. I thought I was being rather generous, giving you a helping hand towards becoming your true self.” He snickers at you. “If I am sick, then I do wonder what that makes you. My mind is full of games, but the inside of your head is full of so much more.”
You ignore the Toymaker and hold your own arms, shrinking back down into your chair. Yet as you look down at the dress, you can’t help but feel a pang of longing. The dress is a perfect fit, one which could have been custom-designed, and the fabric is truly stunning in appearance and quality. With its puffy sleeves and shapely waistline, you know if you were alone you would have given your new skirts a twirl.
But you can’t let yourself get lost now. This is as much a mind game as it is a real one, you realise. The Toymaker is eyeing you like a piece of meat, and it’s clear that he is capable of so much more than a costume change. You must press on with the game.
“I want to keep playing,” you say.
“Wonderful,” says the Toymaker. "We’re currently still at zero points each, with two turns down. Unfortunately, your turn was taken due to the forfeit. I must ask you: Truth or Dare?”
You don’t allow yourself time to think about it: “Dare.”
The Toymaker’s smile is knowing. “It is a fool’s errand, trying to delay the inevitable. I believe my initial suspicions were correct…you do want the Truth to be pried from you, don’t you? Perhaps that makes the shame a little less potent. After all, the mean, scary Toymaker made you dress this way. It wasn’t your fault…you couldn’t help it. Am I getting warmer?”
Your face is getting warmer, and it’s getting increasingly hard to meet the Toymaker’s gaze. “It isn’t my fault that my opponent is insane,” you say, with venom.
Somehow, the Toymaker’s laugh is German. “Ah, zere is zat fire. You are quite dee entertaining playmate, meine Liebling. I am not ge-xpectings you to verstand games of dee mind…but I do find zem exhilarating. Dee expressions ge-crossing your face right now…I vish you could see zem.”
You scowl at the Toymaker. “Just give me your Dare.”
The Toymaker shrugs at you. “If you insist. I Dare you…to perform a dance befitting a fine young lady such as yourself.”
Oh, God, no. This is a nightmare of a Dare. “I—I’m not a dancer,” you say. You can feel your blush crawling up your neck. You envision yourself prancing around in your new dolly-dress, and the embarrassment makes you physically cringe.
“Oh, zat is not ein problem!” The Toymaker beckons you to look under the table. When you do, he taps his own shoes against the floor, performing a rhythmic tap-step. “Zose lovely Schuhe I gave you vill ge-helpen sie along. Provided you are villing to perform dee dare, your tanzen is all taken care of. All you are ge-needings to do is stand up, und take drei steps backwards.”
The Toymaker leans back in his chair and looks at you expectantly. The list of excuses which blossomed into your mind when he first suggested the Dare are dwindling rapidly, each one seeming more pathetic than the last. But…maybe there is a way out of this?
“What about music?” you ask. “Surely you can’t expect me to dance without music.”
The Toymaker shakes his head at you. “Do not ge-worry about dee musik! I have it all covered. Unless…you vish to forfeit once more?”
The idea of any other part of your body spontaneously transforming into an animal is enough to make you scramble to your feet. Immediately, you are self-conscious: the dress is equal parts beautiful and ridiculous, and is so poofy and frilly that it gives your lower half the shape of a bell. You haven’t felt this kind of embarrassment since you were in school: the dry throat and sweaty palms before getting up on stage for assembly.
Feeling like a silly child, you can’t help but look at the Toymaker, searching those mirthful eyes for guidance. But the Toymaker simply shoos you, indicating for you to step back.
Hesitantly, you take one step away from the table.
Then another.
Then, one final, gentle step.
Without warning, the floor of the toyshop erupts! From beneath your feet a wooden stage springs up, unfurls around you and traps you like a box. You shriek and try to stumble away, but your new dancing shoes root you firmly to the spot. A spotlight bursts into being above your head and illuminates your frozen self in all your newfound frilly glory.
You look down from your new height to see the Toymaker sitting in what is now the front row of a vast auditorium; the toyshop’s interior has vanished. He whoops and grabs a fistful from a cartoonishly large bucket of popcorn. You open your mouth to yell at him, and maybe call him some horrible names you haven’t thought of yet.
But before you can, music starts blaring from all sides of the auditorium. It’s a grating, repetitive tune: some ghastly combination of twee guitar and twinkling piano…and it’s so familiar . You know this song, but what is it? And why does it sound so…childish?
The music hits a powerful note. Your mouth opens unbidden, and from your vocal cords a voice which is decidedly not yours belts out the opening lyric to a familiar nursery rhyme:
“I’m a little teapot,
Short and stout!”
Your voice is loud and beautiful, and you project better than any Broadway singer. You can do nothing but watch yourself in abject horror as your knees bend in time with the music, and your shiny shoes send you toppling along the stage in time with the song.
“Here is my handle
Here is my spout!”
You try to scream and stop, but your body is no longer in your control. Your arms bend at frightening angles, and your hips send your neck careening to the side with a crack . A rictus grin is firmly plastered onto your face, and your mouth stays open and singing:
“When I get all steamed up,
Hear me SHOUT!…”
Your hands flap and your toes point and you screaming on the inside, begging for this to stop, stop, STOP ! But the infernal music is inside of your head and it’s pushing in on all sides, and no matter how much you cry and beg and plead your mouth won’t work except to belt out the final words of your song.
“TIP me over and POUR. ME. OUT!”
At the last line, your knees give out and you collapse face-first onto the stage. A grand cheer goes up from the auditorium. You twist around, trying to see if the Toymaker has conjured up an audience to witness your humiliation—but he is the only one present. The Toymaker is on his feet and giving you a standing ovation.
“Vunderbar!” the Toymaker cries as he claps enthusiastically. “Oh, you are dee most darling little teapot, ja. Zis is a fine game we are ge-havings!”
“What—did—you—do?” you gasp on the floor. You feel like your lungs have been crushed. Something the Toymaker did seized up everything inside of you and folded them up like paper. Now it’s as if you really are a doll: crumpled up and discarded in the corner when your owner is finished playing with you. Although you’re quite sure the music has stopped, the melody is blasting in your head in a maddening loop. You try to move, but your legs won’t work.
“Oh, don’t be zo dramatik. Eversing I ge-make brings viele fun,” says the Toymaker. “Herzlichen Glückwunsch …das ist ein point to you.”
You don’t see the Toymaker get up on the stage, but the next thing you know, he’s crouching down next to you. Without warning, the Toymaker lifts you up under the arms and pulls you to your feet as if you weigh nothing at all. You try to stand but your rigid muscles struggle with the task and you stumble, falling right into the Toymaker’s chest. He chuckles, and you hear it rumbling softly in his chest. His skin is impossibly warm…and you can’t hear a heartbeat.
The two of you stand like that for a long moment, with you enveloped in the Toymaker’s arms. When pressed against his waistcoat, the maddening song infesting your brain quietens, and is replaced with an easy sort of calm. It’s strange…all the questions and anger and terror seem to just burn away. They’re forgotten in the simplicity of being held like a doll.
Eventually, your senses kick in. You manage to pull yourself away from the Toymaker, and you refuse to look at his face. “I just want to get on with the game.”
“Of course.”
The Toymaker waves his hand and the stage and auditorium vanish. You are transported back to the interior of the toyshop, with its familiar cuddly audience and the table taking centre stage. You sit back down at the table shakily. You know when you look up the Toymaker will already be sitting across from you…and you’re right, even though you didn’t see or hear him pull back his chair. His eyes are bright and curious.
“Okay…Truth or Dare?”
The Toymaker places his hand on his chin and pretends to be deep in thought. After a while, he says, “Truth."
You very nearly ask him the same question you were denied just before: how was he able to make that doll look exactly like you? But the momentary calm offered by the Toymaker’s embrace has had a quieting effect on your mind, and a spike in your critical thinking skills. You have to think strategically; if you want to win, you need to ask him a question which will throw him off-guard. Asking him about the doll wouldn’t be a challenge because he likes to gloat, and to tease. But if you win, you can have your answer to that question and an actual demonstration…
…plus, you get to keep your freedom. Don’t forget that.
So you stare at the Toymaker and wonder…what causes a man (creature, entity, etc.) to end up this way?
“Tell me about your childhood,” you say.
The smile is wiped from the Toymaker’s face in an instant. His mouth twists in discomfort and anger. For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel a pleasant curl of satisfaction in your guts. The game is on, you think.
“What’s wrong?” you ask out loud. “Do you have a problem with the question? Because you can always forfeit—”
“I. Will. Not. Lose.”
The Toymaker’s fists are on the table now: they’re clenched and shaking. Although he’s looking at you, his mind seems far away, trapped somewhere else. After a beat, he leans forward, grabs your head and brings your foreheads together so they’re just barely touching.
“You asked for this,” says the Toymaker gravely. “I will do more than give you the answer to your question. I will show you. Close your eyes.”
The closeness is invigorating: the Toymaker’s hands are strong against the sides of your head, and you wonder for a second if he could pop your skull like a balloon. You consider saying no and demanding he just tell you the answer, but the look on the Toymaker’s face is so intense that you cannot refuse. It’s that terrible curiosity in you, willing you to stand at the edge of the universe and take a step off the cliff.
So you do as your bid, and close your eyes…
…only to awaken in a void.
To say there is nothing around you is an understatement. Your idea of nothingness is very particular: blackness; emptiness, an absence of sound and light. But this is something else entirely. You can’t even feel the lack of something in this place because there simply isn’t anything to feel. From the moment you open your eyes you feel the contradiction of yourself as a physical being, standing in this vacant not-space. There is less than nothing here. There is zilch. There is negative zero. There is null.
You try to get your bearings by looking around, but there are no bearings to get. This is a nothingness which exists beyond your comprehension. Just standing in this nothingness makes your jaw tighten and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. This is a phobic realm which is the antithesis to life.
And it is so, so cold.
“This is where I grew up.”
You jump. The Toymaker is standing beside you, arms folded behind his back. He surveys the nothingness with humble respect, the way a weary sailor surveys the ocean.
“How?” You try looking around again, but without anything to anchor gaze on, your eyes just swing back round to the Toymaker. “There’s nothing here.”
“Nothing except for me.”
The Toymaker sits down on the emptiness, cross-legged. Feeling discombobulated in the lack of space, you sit down too, next to him, and wonder how that’s possible. You hug your elbows, trying to fend off the omnipresent cold.
“We are outside of your universe,” says the Toymaker quietly. “Below it, as a matter of fact. We are in a pocket realm, like the hollow in a tree branch. Here there was nothing for a very long time…so long, that I do not know how to count it. The void is indifferent to such concepts.
“I was a child for an eternity, and many more eternities after that. Merely a conscious speck suspended in forever. At the time I had no form. No body, no face, and not really a mind. I was a collection of distant ideas and fraught, base emotions. There was no reason for me to have either a solid shape or a brain. I existed only in relation to the void, and the void went on forever. All I had to entertain myself were my games.”
With a flick of the wrist, the Toymaker conjures a ball into existence. Then another. Then another. He does this over and over again until he is juggling at least twenty balls. His hands move in a blur as he juggles the balls effortlessly. He tosses them higher and higher, so high that you have to crane your neck to see. Eventually you lose sight of the balls in the nothingness.
But then, the Toymaker sighs…and you notice that the balls are disappearing. This continues for about a minute, the balls growing fewer in number until he’s down to just three…and then there’s only two, so he’s not really juggling at all.
Finally, the Toymaker catches the last remaining ball and holds it up to your face. A frost has grown along its leathery side.
“Playing games can keep you warm,” says the Toymaker, “but only for a little while. Eventually, the cold gets in. And the cold devours everything."
“How did you survive here?” you ask quietly. You can’t raise your voice above a whisper: it feels disrespectful.
“Death isn’t something I am capable of experiencing,” says the Toymaker. “I can never die from the cold. But I can still feel it.”
The Toymaker looks at the ball in his hand, and it catches fire. You gasp and pull away, but the fire only burns for a few seconds: the flames are quickly extinguished by a new crop of frost, growing over the ball’s surface like a disease.
In moments, the Toymaker is holding nothing but a ball of ice.
“I’m…sorry,” you say.
It’s a feeble reply, and you know it. The cold here is wrapped into the environment itself. This no-space could well be made of nothing but a creeping, insidious chill. It’s worse than the kind of cold which slams into you, like the jump from the shower to a towel on a winter night, or the way your cheeks are slapped when stepping outside on a snowy day.
This cold is sinister.
It waits.
It seeks out warmth wherever it can, wraps itself around that spark of heat, and crushes it frozen.
The Toymaker runs hot, you remember with a shiver.
No wonder.
The Toymaker fends off your weak sympathies with a shake of his head. He stares off into the nothingness, and continues to speak.
“I thought it would just be me and the void forever. But then one day, I heard laughter! It was a sound utterly foreign to me. I was so frightened, I spent millennia curled tight up into a ball, cringing away from the sound. But I could hear them now…beings, with shape and light and thoughts. As the epochs stretched before me and the void remained still, I found myself drawn to their laughter.”
The Toymaker’s eyes glitter with recollection. “I learnt how to poke small peepholes into the fabric of the void, and peer through at the shapes. And oh, the things I saw! These beings, they played games , just like me! Games which used pieces and strategies and all manner of wonderful toys. I wanted to have them all. Needed to have them. So I did. I fashioned myself fingers, and with those fingers I fashioned toys and toys and toys, enough to fill up every child’s toy room in every universe!"
You watch as the Toymaker trembles with excitement. His voice has swollen to fit the void: a rallying cry against the darkness. He looks so proud of himself…but only for a moment.
“After a while, my toys grew old,” he says sadly. “They say a boy becomes a man when he must throw his toys onto the fire in order to keep himself warm...and the cold never stops. I realised that wood and string were all well and good, but they had no personality of their own…and I had no opponent.”
The Toymaker turns to you then. There’s a manic look in his eye. “So I began to lure in the flesh-and-blood creatures,” he says. “It was easy enough once I learned to assume their shape…especially the early ones, who weren’t so bright. And what shapes I would become! I enjoy this shape so much that I’ve decided to keep it permanently, with the odd touch-up every half-century or so. Being handsome helps bring in the players.”
There goes that easy wink again, smooth and charming and drawing you in like the lure on an anglerfish.
“And…that’s why you’re here today?” you ask. “You just want to play games with us?”
The Toymaker’s laugh is mean. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “All that exists is to win, or to lose. I don’t want to play games with you. I simply want to win.”
The two of you stand in silence for a while, contemplating the nothingness. The longer you stay, the more you can feel the chill sliding its icy fingers over your flesh. It crawls up your socks and settles into the gaps behind your knees. It causes wet, cold dew to form at the edges of your eyelashes. It even seeps into the spaces between your skin and fingernails.
You wish you hadn’t asked for this Truth.
“One point to you, Toymaker,” you say through chattering teeth.
The Toymaker starts: clearly he’d forgotten all about you. The void has a sobering effect on him, it seems. How did a little boy manage to have any imagination in this place at all?
“Yes,” says the Toymaker with a worn smile. “One point each.”
The next time you blink, the void is gone. You are returned to the familiar warmth of the toyshop, and are still sitting at the table across from the Toymaker. But now, even as the cold sloughs off your skin and your cheeks begin to heat up again, you can see the toyshop for what it is. The bright lights and colourful attractions are nothing more than decorative wallpaper for a frozen, ephemeral darkness, ever-creeping in on the corners of your vision.
When the Toymaker speaks again, his German is back in full force, and you wonder if he’s trying to stave off how frightened he really is.
“Zat is vier turns down,” he says. “Mit only zwei to go. I ge-believe it is my turn, ja?”
Oh, hell: he’s right. You’d gotten so caught up in the impossibility of the Toymaker’s mind that you’d forgotten you’re playing a very dangerous game. But the Toymaker’s smile looks fake now, and the way his eyes glimmer seems less like mischief, and more like withheld tears. For the first time you want to stop this game…not just for you, but for the Toymaker too.
But that’s not how this would be played. The rules are fixed, and you’ve seen what the consequences could be. Worse, you only have one response left to give. By the way the Toymaker is grinning at you, you know he’s remembered this rule too.
“Truth or Dare?” he asks.
You swallow, before giving the only answer you can: “Truth.”
The Toymaker laughs a little too loud. “Now, you had better nots ge-try to get out of zis one,” he says. “I vant you to tell me dee truth: vot exactly is your fantasy? I vill be requiring details.”
There it is: the question this whole game has been building up to. This situation is impossible and ridiculous. Here you sit, surrounded by beautiful toys in your gorgeous dress, playing a game with an unbelievable, broken man who can rewrite your entire reality with nothing more than a thought. Yet you still can’t just open your mouth and give him the answer. Somehow, even in the face of impossible adversity, you are still beholden to your human embarrassment.
“If I tell you…” you say slowly. “...Do you promise not to laugh?”
The Toymaker’s eyebrows knit together. He looks distressed by the question. “All players should be treated with respect,” he replies.
That’s not the answer I want, but it’s the only answer he can give , you think. But maybe that’s the key here. You would never willingly part with this information…but the Toymaker just did the same thing for you. He didn’t have to show you where he came from. He could have talked around it, given you the crib notes, and you would have been none the wiser. The Toymaker showed you vulnerability just by allowing you into his history.
You owe him that same level of respect.
“I didn’t get much attention when I was growing up,” you say. “It wasn’t a bad upbringing, but I was just kind of…left, a lot of the time. I wasn’t looked after. There was always some sort of problem that needed fixing, and my parents never had time for me. No one bothered to check on me, so I just had to figure things out for myself. I spent most of my time alone in my room…just me and my toys.”
“That sounds familiar,” says the Toymaker, and the sympathy in his voice is real. “How did you pass your time?”
“I took my toys apart,” you say. “I think my parents felt guilty for leaving me alone a lot, so there was never a shortage of toys. But I wanted to figure out how they worked. That seemed much more interesting than actually playing with them, you know?”
The Toymaker smiles with approval. “Dee keen eye of a toymaker is a gift,” he says. “But I sense you are delaying your real story…”
You curse inwardly: again, he’s right. You cannot hide any longer.
“I took apart all of my toys…except for my dolls.”
That gets the Toymaker’s attention: those bright blue eyes light up with interest. “Go on.”
“I had a set of five dolls,” you say quietly. “Generic dolls. Sparkly, brushable hair, and little swappable outfits. Nothing special. But even when I was really small I couldn’t hurt them. I was terrified of damaging them in any way. There weren’t any other kids around to talk to, and my parents weren’t home, so I just…talked to the dolls instead. I knew it was weird, but in my head the dolls were more sentient than my other toys. I thought they could really understand me.”
The Toymaker starts back up in his German voice: “Ah, zere is nothing more ge-saddening zan a lonely Kind. Zat is why decapitating poor Neil vas being no problem for you, zen?”
“Yeah. It still hurt, but not for the reasons it would hurt most people.” You swallow; this is the really difficult part. “The older I got, the more toys I had, but I never added to my doll collection. My parents would joke all the time about how I was becoming a ‘little lady’. When I became a teenager there was so much pressure to be pretty, and girly…and it made me feel sick. So I tried to fight back against it. I cut my hair, I swore off pink, and I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress.”
The words stick in your throat. You look up at the Toymaker, hoping for some kind of mercy, but you don’t find it. But he isn’t mocking you, either: he just sits and waits for you to continue.
“I locked my dolls away,” you say. “I pretended I had thrown them out…but secretly, I’d sneak them out, and play with them. I’d brush their hair, and mend their dresses. I still do.”
The Toymaker leans in. “Why?”
“I…I wanted to be like them,” you whisper. “They are so pretty. The long, flowing dresses and the perfect makeup…they’re dazzling in a way I could never be. I can never, ever be that beautiful.”
You twist the fabric of your dress between your fingers fitfully, and force yourself to say it:
“I always wanted to be someone’s favourite doll."
There’s silence in the toyshop. You stare down at your lap, your heart pounding and your face flushed. Stupid, stupid…! Your eyes well up with hot tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at the Toymaker.
“Und zen you arrive here,” he says. “Meine beautiful dollen drew you in.”
“Yes,” you say quietly. “If I can’t be loved like a doll, then at least I can give them love instead. If I were a doll, maybe things would be easier, you know? Maybe…”
You can’t help the little choke-sob which escapes your lips.
“...maybe someone would take care of me."
The tears fall freely into your lap now and stain the beautiful fabric of your dress dark. You feel disgusting: worthy of ridicule. I deserve whatever happens to me now, you think, your brain awash with old, dark feelings you’ve kept locked up just like the dolls in your closet.
But it’s the Toymaker who snaps you out of his reverie. You didn’t hear him move, but you flinch when his fingers slide under your chin and tilt up your face towards him. Your tears cast him in a watery halo.
“Mein Liebling, stop ge-crying,” he says. “I have made sehr many dollen over dee years, und many of zem have been beautiful. But you are somesing else entirely entirely. Ein living, breathing, villing doll, so cute und poseable. Oh, you und I vill have zo many adventures together! You could be mein prized possession, und I vill hold you and play vith you from dawn zu dusk.”
The Toymaker’s words send a shudder through your body. Blood thrums at the surface of your skin and pools in your cheeks and neck. The Toymaker leans in until your noses are almost touching. He’s so very close to you now…close enough that he could kiss you.
But just before he reaches your lips, the Toymaker moves to the side and whispers into your ear:
“Dee game is not yet over, meine schöne dollen. You have one final question to ge-ask of me. Do it, und zis vill all be over…one vay or another.”
You can feel him smiling gently against your hair, and it makes you want to sob. Oh, please let this torture end…! But you’re in the Toymaker’s grasp now, in the final throes of his game, and you know you have to finish this or your suffering will never be over. There is only one turn left. You have to try, one last time, or you would spend the rest of your life at the beck and call of this madman.
“Truth or Dare?” you manage to croak out.
The Toymaker lets your face go. “Dare."
You take a deep breath. This is your last chance.
“Let me go.”
The Toymaker takes a long, long moment to process your answer…and then he starts to laugh. Really, really hard. The tinkling arpeggio of his laughter builds and builds until it seems to shake the very walls of the toyshop. For a moment, you are terrified that it’s all going to come crumbling down like a house of cards.
“Oh, perhaps becoming ein dollen hast eroded deine brain, ja?” says the Toymaker, the arrogance flashing in his teeth. “I am not ein genie you kann outsmarts. I am afraid zat since letting you go ist your prize, you cannot request it of me. So, you have lost ein point, putting us at a tie…und you must complete ein forfeit once more.”
No. No. NO!
“That’s not fair!” you yell. The tears are streaming down your face in earnest now; all of the distress of this game and the Toymaker’s psychological torment can no longer be contained.
“Oh, und here comes dee tantrum,” says the Toymaker with a sigh. “I hates it ven zey get like zis. You must have ein forfeit…und I think I have dee perfekt idea to stop your ge-crying.”
The Toymaker snaps his fingers again. You open your mouth to scream at him…but nothing comes out.
You try again, but your mouth just flops open like a fish, with no sound attached to it whatsoever.
The Toymaker has stolen your voice.
“I have assisted you in another core aspect of your doll transformation,” says the Toymaker, the British swooping in over his tongue with ease. “I do not think most dolls can talk, do you?”
You awful…! But the words can’t even die on your tongue, because they never reach your tongue in the first place. There is a total disconnect between your mouth and your brain. Although you can fashion your lips into the correct shapes and try to push the air into forming syllables, none of them can escape your mouth.
The Toymaker has silenced you, taking away perhaps your only remaining asset in this game.
You mentally tally up the points, and realise he’s right. You are now tied, and six turns have passed.
“But I cannot tolerate a tie. Dee rules dictate zat ve must perform a tie-breaker challenge…” His accent ripples between the German and British easily, as if he can’t decide between childish delight and cool professionalism. “Do you have any suggestions for a tie-breaker?"
The devastation of losing your voice almost made you look over this detail. Yes, he’s right: for all of your suffering, the Toymaker hasn’t actually managed to get a point over you. That means all is not lost.
That means you still have a chance to win.
But you cannot strategise in a vacuum: much less when you can’t speak. The Toymaker looks at you in amusement, as if expecting you to try and talk anyway. You could have written a message down on a piece of paper, or typed it on your phone, but you decide not to give him the satisfaction. The Toymaker has already gotten you on the rules twice: you are going to play within his boundaries and win fair and square.
You don’t see where he produces the hat from. A flourish of the arm, and it’s suddenly in his hands: a beautiful top hat which would have gone perfectly with a tuxedo. The Toymaker flips the hat over and proffers it to you.
“Ladies first,” he says with a sly smile.
You reach into the hat and are surprised to find a variety of small, paper tickets. After some rustling around, you pull one out and read it. When you do, your eyes go wide.
WHOEVER HOLDS THEIR BREATH THE LONGEST IS THE WINNER.
“Vot fun!” exclaims the Toymaker, clapping his hands together in excitement. “I must ge-varn you, I am a very gut schwimmer, and kann hold mein breath for ein long time.”
But do you even have a lung capacity?! is what you would have asked if you could. How was this fair? The Toymaker is clearly an extradimensional being, and his physical body doesn’t seem to conform to the laws of physics, space or time…anything that would put a real challenge to this game. But you can’t say so: you have no way of telling him.
Besides…is it cheating if that’s just how he is? Is it cheating if he’s just better at the game?
A loud tick-tocking draws your eye to the right side of the toyshop. Against the wall (where it definitely didn’t exist before) is a grandfather clock. Both of the clock’s hands are almost at the 12. This was news to you; you’d arrived at the toyshop sometime around 8pm.
“Ve vill begin when ze clock strikes twelve,” says the Toymaker. “Zere are no fancy rules…ve just start ge-holdings our breath, until eins of us cannot anymore.”
The grandfather clock ticks closer to your demise. You look at the Toymaker in desperation, clasping your hands together in a silent plea…but he just looks at you coolly. Now, you are nothing but an opponent to defeat. You are an obstacle ready to be demolished.
Well, I am not helpless. If anyone is going to decide the winner of this game, it’s going to be me. With only thirty seconds remaining, you fish around in the pocket of your backpack and pull out your phone. You set up your video camera, prop the phone up against a toy monkey holding a pair of cymbals, and hit the record button.
“Ah,” says the Toymaker. “In case of ein photo-finish. Gut idea.”
There’s a cold fire in his eyes now: something which ignited when he took you into his personal void. You have no moves left, and no gameplay strategies to implement. It is clear that he is the master of games, and you may as well already be his doll.
But hell, you are going to try your best.
The grandfather clock strikes twelve with a loud, booming chime, and you suck in the largest breath of your life. You don’t balloon out your cheeks: instead you opt for a subtle approach learnt from musical training, where you draw in the oxygen deep into your lungs and will it to sit there for as long as you can handle.
By comparison, the Toymaker doesn’t look like he’s holding his breath at all. You merely hear him stop breathing. He looks totally at ease.
The first ten seconds are child’s play.
The first twenty seconds are fine.
The first thirty seconds are acceptable.
But by the forty-second mark a playful fire start to burn in your chest, and the urge to take a breath begins to beg. Inside you curse yourself, wishing that you’d practised— but why on earth would I have practised such a useless game?!
You look at the Toymaker. Big mistake. He waggles his eyebrows at you silently, rippling them in an over-the-top-sultry manner. You feel your lips quirking up into a smile…You can’t believe it! He’s trying to make you laugh!
So much for respecting the rules, you think to yourself. Your chest is really starting to hurt now. But then you wonder, is that really cheating? If the Toymaker can try to make you laugh, what if you can make him laugh too? But you shut down that idea immediately: if you prancing around in a frilly dress singing I’m A Little Teapot didn’t make him laugh (just clap!), you didn’t have a chance in hell.
Oh no. What is he doing now?
While trying to focus on holding your breath, the Toymaker had conjured two familiar puppets on the ends of his hands: Punch and Judy. With a final, victorious wink, the Toymaker begins a silent, over-the-top slapstick routine with the puppets. Even without dialogue you recognise the beats of the show; Mr Punch is a mess of a man, overwhelmed by the demands of his wife and baby (the latter brought into being with a tiny, adorable puppet the Toymaker wears on one of his thumbs). His hands move with such finesse that the puppets almost look real.
Such a gaudy routine wouldn’t have been enough to make you laugh by itself, but the Toymaker brings a whole new dimension with his wonderfully expressive face. Each time the long-suffering Judy begins a voiceless tirade of her husband (i.e., throwing little puppet-objects at his face), the Toymaker supplements Punch’s depression with a frown worthy of a theatre mask. When Punch manages to land a hit on his wife or baby (My God, were these shows always so violent?), the Toymaker grins with such deranged glee that you can’t help but find it hilarious.
Oh no. You look at the clock: it’s been a minute, and your chest is really starting to hurt. The Toymaker and his puppets make your cheeks puff out with the effort of not laughing.
He smirks at you as Punch picks up his wife and baby and tosses them into the air, punting them like footballs. It’s so absurd and ridiculous that you can feel the giggle rising up in your chest. You desperately want to open your mouth and suck in oxygen but you can’t, you simply can’t, because if you do you’ll lose the game and he’ll keep you here forever…!
As your remaining seconds tick closer to your inevitable failure, you close your eyes. You want to have one last moment to remember yourself as you are, because you are sure whatever the Toymaker is going to do to you will not be pleasant.
Your chest aches. Your cheeks bulge. Your will starts to unravel.
And then, you have the idea.
It’s a stupid idea, and with barely any seconds left to execute it, you have no guarantee that it will work. But as you open your eyes and look at the Toymaker’s smug ‘I’ve already won!’ expression, you know you have no choice but to follow through with your mad plan.
So, holding on to every last bit of breath you have, you lunge at the Toymaker—
—and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.
Several things happen at once:
The first is the Toymaker exclaiming in surprise, his breath clearly lost, and dropping his puppets, which dissolve into ash as soon as they hit the floor.
The second is your desire to breathe finally overpowering you as you collapse against the Toymaker, and the two of you tumble to the floor.
The third is the grandfather clock exploding. Just as you hit the ground the clock bursts apart, firing out wooden shrapnel with a horrifying bang! On reflex you huddle yourself against the nearest form of safety, which in this case happens to be the Toymaker’s chest.
You weren’t expecting him to hold you back.
The two of you stay like that for some time: you and the Toymaker, on the floor together, breathing heavily and wrapped up in each other’s arms. Despite your own adrenaline, you can’t understand the Toymaker’s terror: surely he caused the clock to blow up? He certainly wasn’t in any danger.
But then you hear a sound you couldn’t hear before. It’s the thrumming of the Toymaker’s heart, loud and insistent and desperate to survive. You hear it through the fabric of his waistcoat, and feel it in the pulse of his neck. For just a moment, the Toymaker seems to be just as human as you.
You wonder if the Toymaker’s mortality is contextual.
Eventually, you manage to disentangle yourself from the Toymaker’s limbs. You peek at the smoking remains of the grandfather clock, and are relieved to see that nothing has caught fire: there’s just a scorched, black mark where the clock once existed. The shards of wood which exploded out from the clock have disappeared.
Thankfully, your phone is untouched! You pick it up, pause the recording and watch it back. A smile stretches across your face.
“Oh, Toymaker!” you say, and you are so very pleased that your voice has returned. “You’re going to want to take a look at this.”
When the Toymaker climbs to his feet, you are immensely amused to see that his perfect curls have been knocked a bit by the explosion. For the first time since you met, the Toymaker is dishevelled and confused. It’s a cute look on you, you think.
“You broke my game,” says the Toymaker incredulously. “How did you do that?”
“No idea,” you grin. “Maybe it was an unexpected outcome. Still within the rules, still a valid way to win, just…unorthodox.”
You show the Toymaker the recording. You watch as his expression turns from bafflement, to despair, to outright blazing anger.
“No!” the Toymaker cries. “You can’t have beat me!”
But the camera never lies. The footage on your phone clearly picks up the Toymaker gasping in shock as soon as you hit him with your hug…whilst you don’t gasp for air until a few seconds later, just before the grandfather clock explodes.
“Seems like I have!” you say happily.
“But I…you…” The Toymaker’s fingers flex in the air meaninglessly, as if looking for a straw to grasp. “But that’s cheating!”
“No it isn’t,” you say with confidence. “There was nothing in the rules about us not being able to make each other lose our breath. If you making me laugh was a valid strategy, then me hugging you was too. Either we both cheated, or no one did.”
The Toymaker looks like he’s been slapped, and it is a delicious feeling. You almost want to pinch his cheeks. With a pout fixing his lips, the Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes return to normal. Your dress is gone, replaced by the clothes you entered the shop with.
(Is it a little silly to be regretful of that fact…?)
“I still say that shouldn’t count,” says the Toymaker sullenly. “That was an underhanded tactic. I’ll be writing that into the rules next time.”
But you’ve turned away from the Toymaker now—he obviously needs to work through his sore-loser feelings in his own time. You trot over to the doll shelf, pick up the beautiful doll in the powder-blue dress and cradle her in your arms. She truly is a wonderful prize.
When you turn back around, the Toymaker is sitting on the floor with his hands hugging his knees. You feel a pang of sympathy for the man…it seems this really is his whole life.
“But why did you hug me?” the Toymaker asks, baffled. “That’s not a winning strategy. You just surprised me. You were so…”
The Toymaker looks up at you with shining eyes. This time, his eyes really are wet with tears.
“...Warm,” he whispers.
The triumph of your win quickly sours on your tongue. The way the Toymaker is looking at you gives you a powerful feeling…and it’s not one that you like. Even though every part of you is telling you to make a run for the door while you have this post-win window…you don’t.
Instead, you sit down cross-legged on the floor next to the Toymaker, just like you did when in the void. You even bump your shoulder against his.
“I’ve been sad a lot in my life,” you say. “But I’ve never felt as much sadness as I did in your void. And it made me wonder if…you’d ever been held before.”
The Toymaker looks at you with flashing eyes. His bottom lip trembles as if he’s trying to hold back a lifetime of grief. He doesn’t say anything, but those eyes tell you all you need to know.
“I wouldn’t mind coming around here sometimes,” you say gently.
The Toymaker looks at you like you’ve got two heads. “You would voluntarily subject yourself to my life-or-death games?”
“Maybe not the life-or-death part,” you say hastily. “But I had fun today. Weird, horrible fun. You’re kind of a weird and horrible guy…and I’m pretty weird too.”
To your surprise, the Toymaker actually laughs at that. “You are unique, meine Liebling,” he says, German once more. “To out-ge-smart me, you must be.”
“Well…maybe it’s a good thing we met,” you say. “Maybe you don’t need to keep luring in suspecting people to your shop, Toymaker. Some of us might actually want to stick around and play. And maybe…”
You rest your head against the Toymaker’s shoulder.
“...Maybe I could help keep the cold out for a while.”
The Toymaker and you sit in silence for some time, listening to the gentle whirs and clicks of the toys going about their business. You keep your new doll tucked between your legs, and your cheek resting against the Toymaker’s shoulder. He’s so warm that you find your eyelids fluttering: you could easily fall asleep right here.
It’s a surprise when you feel the Toymaker’s fingers sliding into your own. You look at him, and see those telling blue eyes alive with fresh excitement.
“It’s a deal,” says the Toymaker, with an enormous, brilliant smile.
You let the Toymaker pull you to your feet. To your amusement, he grants you a deep, formal bow.
“Run along now, meine Schatz…today must have been ge-xhausting for you. But I shall be seeing you again soon, ja?"
Other people would not have caught it, but you know what loneliness sounds like: you hear the edge of desperation at the edge of the Toymaker’s voice. You take a step back and return the bow with a curtsey.
“Ja, genau,” you grin.
The Toymaker’s smile could have outshone the sun.
That night, when you return home, you take all of your dolls out of your closet. You line them up with care on your shelf, making sure to pose them prettily and smooth out the creases in their frocks.
But you keep your new doll in your hand, and clamber into bed with her. Before you turn out the light, you look one last time at her perfect, dimpled face.
Oh, what games will you and the Toymaker play next?
#the toymaker x reader#the toymaker x you#the toymaker#doctor who#the celestial toymaker#dw#the giggle#fanfiction#x reader#starleskawrites#i don't know what came over me but it sure was fun to write 🥰💖#long post
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rainy Christmas Eve - The toymaker x fem!reader
(Merry Christmas Eve (I'm so ready for Ncuti's first ep)
The deep red building stared at you from across the road. It illuminated the foggy street around you. The rain cut into your skin under the cheap umbrella you kept in your bag for moments like this. The toy-filled windows watched as you walked up to the door. Their heads seemed to turn as you approached. Teeth catering as the bell signalled your arrival.
Inside, the shop was filled with toys and games. A row of perfect marionette puppets stared, glassy eyed at you as you walked towards the wooden counter. A dripping trail of water left a mark of your presence.
A grey haired man leant over a broken doll. His hands worked quietly to fix the young porcelain child on his desk. As you took a step closer his head snapped up, his dark eyes piercing through you.
“Oh! Ein new customer, terrible wetter für Weihnachten eve, ja?”
His distorted German accent cut through the hum of toys. His speech jumped between English and German, all you could do was nod in agreement as he continued to speak and become more animated.
“What brings schöne Dame to mein store, maybe eine puppe oder bear for the little kinder oder train going rund und rund und rund?”
You stared at him, mesmerised as he spoke and moved. His hands lead the conversation more than his speech. The toymaker looked down at you with a grin and sneaky wink. Your coat still dripping onto the worn carpet.
“My sister chose to tell me she was pregnant a week ago, I haven't had much time to get her anything for the new baby,” you explained.
The toymaker's face lit up at the mention of a child. “Ein baby! Are du thinking von einem little Teddybär or blocks? Es gibt viel choice. Here, ich will helfen you.”
He guided you over to the right side of his counter where a small christmas tree sat undecorated. A wide eyed teddy bear sat with his head resting against the tree. His fur was brown and felt soft to the touch as your hand combed through. Beside it was a smaller blue bear. Its ocean blue skin and shorter fur made the body feel squishier. You gently felt both.
“I like the blue,” you muttered mostly to yourself but the toymaker interrupted quickly after.
“Ah, ja, the Blauer bär. ich machte her myself, beautiful fur, ja?”
He picked up the bear, showing it off to you. A red ribbon wrapped around its neck and held together with a tight bow. The toymaker smiled and winked again.
“Sie will be perfekt for your neffe or nichte.”
“Yes, I think she will.” you smiled back out of politeness, the toymaker already starting to wrap up the little bear in paper.
“Das wetter is zu bad for you, kommen, stay bis clear.” he placed the wrapped bear onto the desk. Its soft head poked out of the top, making it seem like the teddy had been wrapped up in a blanket.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. I mean you must be preparing for christmas.”
“Nothing das kippen wait.” his voice suddenly changed. His broken German became smooth English and his accent disappeared.
“let's play a game.”
#the toymaker#doctor who#doctor who x reader#the toymaker x reader#celestial toymaker#the celestial toymaker#toymaker#merry christmas#why is he kinda hot
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi people!
Does anyone feel like joining a Toymaker Discord server? To chat, share recommendations, fanfic, fanart… I feel like there’s so few of us, and it would be nice to get together a bit :)
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just quickly dropping this off here before I head to bed, have fun reading some smut.
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I request Dancer!reader who wants to dance with the Toymaker? Pls & thank youu
yes you absolutely can! I wrote headcanons instead of a full fic because those are always a bit easier for me (these are longer than I originally planned because of how much I got into it lol)
The Toymaker losing a game to a reader who wants to dance with him
Warnings: only brief descriptions of the actual dancing because I suck at it and therefore don't know how to describe it properly (sorry), The Toymaker is really sweet and honestly a simp, plus the ending is really sappy because I'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff
Like most unsuspecting mortals, you didn't expect much when you first stumbled into The Toymaker's shop, though you were pleasantly surprised when you saw just how attractive the keeper of the shop was
While he was going on and on about how foolish you were and how you weren't allowed to leave his realm until you beat him at a game, you were focused on thinking about just how fun it would be to dance with him
You wondered what type of dance would suit him best. The tango? Nah, too flashy. Slow dancing? He didn't look like he could calm down and stay in one place long enough to do it properly. Perhaps something else...?
The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through your thoughts, and you realized he'd stopped talking once he noticed you weren't paying attention to him
"Did you even hear anything that I just said?" He grumbled with his arms crossed, looking like a pouty child
You held back a laugh while nodding your head. "Yeah, yeah, I have to play a game with you, and if I lose I stay here forever. But what happens if I win?"
The grouchy look dropped from his face when you spoke, pleased that you'd at least heard the basics. "You won't. No one ever beats me," he said smugly
"But if I do? What then?" You further pressed, not willing to let go of the topic so easily
The Toymaker huffed, rolling his eyes at you. "If you win, then you get your freedom. That's it"
"Really? That sounds so... boring," you responded with an unimpressed look on your face
He let out a sigh of exasperation while rubbing at his temple. "Fine, fine. What do you want if you win?" He asked through gritted teeth, not used to players who were so unbearably annoying. Arrogant and overconfident, sure, but none with a personality like yours
Your eyes lit up at his question, and you answered immediately. "I want to dance with you"
"You- what?" He was confused, for sure. Out of anything you could ask him for, you chose that?
"I want to dance with you," you repeated, unyielding in your response. "If you win, I stay here forever, but if I win, I get one dance with you of my choice." You extended your hand for him to shake. "Deal?"
The Toymaker thought it over before taking your hand, a sinister grin on his face as he accepted. "Deal. Though I should have you know, no one has ever beaten me before"
"Well, there's a first time for everything," you quipped back, flashing him a mischievous smile of your own
He narrowed his eyes at you as he took his hand back, now determined more than ever to beat you. Unfortunately for him, he didn't. Somehow you'd gotten into his head, and he wasn't as alert as he'd usually be
He thought he'd be angry upon losing, but for some reason he felt oddly giddy. The thought of getting to dance with you had permeated his thoughts and made it difficult for him to focus on anything else, hence one of the reasons why he lost
"I win!" You triumphantly announced for the third time in a row, something that would usually make The Toymaker want to destroy everything in sight, but since it was coming from you he just didn't have the heart
He merely sighed and nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, yes, you win. Now, what type of dance did you want to do?"
"Hmm..." That was a good question. You hadn't given it much thought since the deal had been made, but then it suddenly hit you. "Let's waltz! You know how to waltz, right?"
He scoffed, looking slightly offended. "Yes, of course I know how to waltz. What a ridiculous question to ask"
"Great! Now, we just need a place to-" With a snap of his fingers, the toyshop suddenly transformed, an elegant ballroom in the middle of it while the shop remained on the outside. And it all happened before you could even finish your sentence. "-dance. That works, I guess"
He tried not to show it, but The Toymaker was nervous, a character trait that he was unfamiliar with, no matter how often he caused (and even relished) it when it appeared in other people
He thought it would be best if he let you take the lead, seeing as you clearly knew more about the subject than he did. As nonchalant as he tried to be, he still couldn't help the blush that formed on his face when he felt you take his hands in yours and start to guide him around the room
He was embarrassed anytime he bumped into you or accidentally stepped on your feet, but when you just laughed it off and told him there was no reason to apologize he felt his heart soar
He wasn't sure how long the two of you stayed like that, moving around the room as you danced in (almost) perfect harmony, but he knew the disappointment he felt when it was finally time for you to go
"Well, that was certainly a lot of fun." Even though you were a little tired from all the dancing you'd done, you had a bright smile on your face, an indicator that you'd enjoyed yourself
"Yes, yes it was." It didn't take a genius to realize The Toymaker seemed more than just a little upset when he saw you were going to leave, even though he was trying to act like it wasn't bothering him
"I can come back to visit you, if you want," you offered softly, not missing the way his eyes seemed to light up at your words. "We can do some more dancing, or we can just talk. I wouldn't mind getting to hang out with you"
He was speechless, something that didn't happen often. You actually wanted to spend time with him, willingly? He wouldn't have to trap or trick you?
You continued when he didn't say anything. "I have to go, but I'll come back in tomorrow, okay?" Before he could react, you leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. "Bye," you said with a wave as you turned and left his shop
Even if he didn't win the game, that didn't matter to him, because he got something even better; your affection. And the kiss you gave him at the end was, in his opinion, the greatest prize of all
Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated<3
Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?
🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87 @sessa23
#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#gn reader#x gn reader#doctor who#doctor who imagines#doctor who imagine#doctor who x reader#doctor who headcanons#the toymaker#the toymaker imagines#the toymaker imagine#the toymaker x reader#the toymaker headcanons#doctor who fluff#the toymaker fluff#the celestial toymaker#the celestial toymaker x reader
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bored - The Toymaker
Author's Note: I wasn't really happy with this, but I thought maybe you guys would enjoy it. My english is broken and the german accent-thingy didn't help at all. However this one post did help me a lot and I wanted to put it here for you all (thank you so much, you saved my ass). This is also my first Tumblr post so this is rather exciting. More is to come so stay tuned I guess. My obsession always lasts for a while. :) Thank you. Have a great day, night, evening or morning. <3
The Post That Helped Me:
ー
Summary: The Toymaker had turned you into one of his toys. However regardless of your situation you couldn't help but feel rather, well, bored.
ー
Sitting on the shelf was nice for the first few hours after you had gotten over your fear. You were beginning to come to the conclusion that you were messed up, well mentally and now physically too.
That's because you couldn't help, but admire him. Even now you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. He had his caramel coloured leather apron on top of his waistcoat that was the colour of a plum. Your eyes wandered to his face admiring every bit of it with few disgusted voices nagging at you in the back of your brain.
'Stockholm syndrome darling'
'You are disgusting'
'You should be ashamed of yourself'
'He is dangerous you idiot'
Deciding you were already screwed you returned back into admiring him. His blond grey hair was curled and styled without any imperfections. How did he do it? You could use some advice, well, not anymore. Your hair was beautiful all the time, perfect, too perfect. You weren't a human, you were a doll, his doll.
And who exactly was he? You didn't quite know. You didn't even know his name, you didn't know if he had a name. You only knew that he was The Toymaker. And every sane person would be rightfully terrified of him.
However you had been pulled towards him from the moment you did step into the store. You had been mesmerized by him. However you did admit you were afraid too, especially while playing the life-or-death game.
If you had known better you would have chosen something else that day.
ー
You had been looking for a present, you found the perfect one. However the very charming shop owner had just stated you were short on a few pennies.
"Bloody hell", you mumbled turning a shade of red from embarrassment. You thought you had enough. "I apologise for taking your time", you said reaching to collect your money.
"Nein nein", he teased softly stopping your hand making you almost shiver at you making physical contact with him.
"How about zis, let us play ein game-", he proposed before stopping to look at your confused expression.
"-If you vin, you can take dee toy, for free, nein charge", he stated smiling like the Cheshire Cat. It was almost giving you shivers, but for the wrong reasons. The smile gave you a picture of a cat and mouse.
Only if the mouse would get into the cat's trap.
"And if you win?", you asked hesitantly.
"You vill stay with me and play mein games, du und ich, forever!", he declared cheerfully giving you a mischievous smirk in the end. He was challenging you.
Did he somehow know that you couldn't refuse the offer? You later learned that he did, in fact know.
"What do we play Mr...?", you asked a bit scared of his changing demeanor.
"You kan call me dee Toymaker, meine Liebling", the Toymaker said making your cheeks flush a little.
Why on earth were you flustered?
"Und what we vill play, zat is your ge-decision", the Toymaker told you. Maybe it was polite to let you choose?
What did you like to play? There was one game that instantly popped into your mind. At the same time the Toymakers grin widened making him look psychotic.
"I shall choose that we play a game of chess", you stated fiddling with your fingers nervously.
"That is a splendid choice my dear, we shall play a game of chess!", the Toymaker celebrated like he had already won.
Wait. Where did his accent go?
Before you could voice your questions the Toymaker snapped his fingers and your life was never the same again.
ー
Now you have been sitting on the store's shelf for god-knows-how-long. You couldn't move. You didn't really remember what it felt like to be a human anymore.
'Bloody hell, this is boring', you thought staring at the shop. You had seen customers come, but never leaving. You had a suspicion of what might have happened to them.
You could see the shop even eyes closed that's how long you had spent examining the shop from your shelf.
"My my, is someone bored, meine Liebling dollen?", asked a teasing voice suddenly from your left. You turned to look at the charming man who was smirking. You had heard the smirk already from his voice.
'Let's play something, please', you pleaded in your head fully knowing he could hear your thoughts.
You didn't expect to see the Toymaker speechless. He seemed to be lost for words the first time in his time being.
"You want to play mein games?", he asked gingerly, like you were playing an evil game with his feelings.
'Do I really have something to lose anyway? Yes, please'
"What do you want if you win?"
You knew that your freedom was off the table. However something came to your mind.
'I want to be able to speak and move'
The Toymaker looked puzzled. Like this was some kind of mystery he couldn't crack.
'I want to speak with you, walk around the store and play with you'
Some rare emotion flashed in the Toymakers eyes, you couldn't place it in that exact moment. Because a pain flashed inside you making you gasp for air. Then you realised what had happened.
"I- I can speak", you stuttered confused, but joy was evident in your voice.
"Well yes, it would make the game rather impossible perhaps if you couldn't speak or move", the Toymaker scoffed slightly while picking you up from the shelf.
You knew it was bullshit. It was a rather poor excuse. Feeling brave you decided your next action without too much thinking.
You put your arms around his neck and bury your face to his neck inhaling his scent. He smelled like wood and colone, intoxicating. His scent wrapped you into a safe bubble making you smile.
"Thank you", you whispered. You didn't think he was evil all the way. There was evil in good. So in evil there was good.
The man had stiffen trying to figure out what you were doing. After a moment he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. Slowly he melted into your touch, even though he tried to fight against the warm feeling. But eventually he didn't want the warmth to go away.
"You are welcome meine Liebling"
ー
#the toymaker#the celestial toymaker#the toymaker x reader#doctor who#doctor who image#the celestial toymaker x reader
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
🎱🎲♟️ the celestial toymaker x child reader 🧸🧩
Headcannons
♤♡◇♧
This man will 100% percent tuck you in at night,like you cannot look me in the eyes and say that he would not notice when his child is getting tired,pick them up,and then tuck them in with a kiss on the forehead. He would also read you bed time story's when ever you asked. He knows them so well that he doesn't even need to pick up the book and read them he just tells them too you off by heart.
And most of them consist of his own story's he made up about how he won games against people and how it was so much fun how they lost and where forever trapped in his doll house. You didn't find those ones as much fun thought. The thought of people not having feel will and forever being trapped scared you. And sometimes your dad's "line of work" scared you. Let's just say you found the dolls creepy and also deeply upsetting.
So in this case,when you do get upset would definitely comfort you and rock you side to side no matter what age.
Whether it's from the dolls in the door house upsetting you or just from watching a scary film with man would have you up and in his arms faster then you could blink. Or he would be sitting down on the sofa with you and pull you into his lap.
Once you where playing with the two clowns and after a while off playing a game that involved jumping from block too block one of the clowns got a bit too ruff and moved one of the blocks causing you too fall over. Clara (one of the clowns) rushed over to you aid but it was too late the damage had already been done. And you started to cry and a red mark was left on your arm.
The clowns relised that they messed up and knew what fate waited for them because of the toymaker reaction when Cyril kept messing with you when you first got into the celestial toy room. He kept shocking you and scaring you every chance he got till it pushed you too a point when you started to cry.
Cyril laughed when you started to cry that was until the toymaker appeared. He crouched down cupped your face and wiped your tears. He snapped his fingers and Cyril turned back into a doll. He walked over picking up the doll and swinging it onto the floor smashing it's head like it was porciline.
He then walked back to you and picked up "are you okay my doll?" You nodded you head 'yes' as he walked off with you in his arms.
The clowns started to panic and before they know it the toymaker had appeared and knelt down looked at your arm he glared at the clowns before picking you up."I will be back to deal with you two"He walked away with you in his arms and set you down on a chair before returning with a ice pack and placing it on your arm.
He gave you a kiss on the cheek as he held it on your arm.
#celestial toymaker#docter who#docterwho60th#the toymaker#toymaker#the celestial toymaker x reader#the toymaker x reader
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
🎱🎲♟️The celestial toymaker x child reader 🧸🧩
⚠️not show accurate please do not hate I am only trying too share my work with the world and hope you will fine as much joy from reading it as I did wrighting⚠️
♤♡◇♧
You didn't know how you got here but the doctor was gone and you couldn't see dodo or Steven. You stepped out of the tardis and the world around me looked different. A room full off dolls and toys and cribs.
You leave the safety of the tardis and walk further into this weird looking relm of sort and with a swift glacé you spin round to see the tardis was gone. You started to panic frantically looking about for any sign of any one in this world that could help you get back home. "Steven!" You yell as you walked down the twist off corners and walls."Dodo!" I yell out hoping someone would respond.
After some time off walking you come across a door with light gold tints and red varnis. You walk up to the door your nervs pooling at the bottom of your stomach as you opened the door slowly to see and man in Persian robes (I know they are Chinese just go with it)standing in front of a table he smiles at me and takes a step towards you.
You cautiously take a step back only to your back too collide with the door that had now been locked shut without making as much as startling a mouse.you panicked as you ratteld the door handle with haste trying to get it to open."Don't be frighten (y/n)-" "How do you know my name!" You ask him before he had the chance to finish his sentence.
He didn't seem frustrated at your impatients but rather fond of it because the only response he gave you was another shallow smile before walking behind the table and pulling out the chair that was facing away from the door and gesturing for you too sit in it. You walk towards the table with caution as you sit down in the seat and he swiftly tucks it in before sitting on the chair that was opposite it.
"I know many things about you (y/n) like how you love to play rummy" withing a blink the deck of cards on the table change from a neet pile to a stack of ten cards each and stock pile with a single cards in the discard pile. "How did you..." you ask in disbelief "does it really matter? Just as long as you play with me?". He asks me with a devilish smile. "WHAT do I get out off it? Where is dodo and Steven!" He only seems to dismiss you yells"you know what? If you win I will tell you where they are but if I win...well we can discuss the details later"
You nod you head as you began to play. You picked up you deck and looked at your cards sutily before glancing back at him to see he had his cards in his hands but was pering over at you with that same look plaster apon his face. You could only roll you eyes as you began to play.
"You first my love"
You started to play whilst you where high on guard asking questions about you friends "so what happens to the doctor,Steven and dodo" "thats cheating, i said i would tell you that when you win you cheaky minx" "Fine then, who are you?" "Does that really matter?" "Yes" you replied with a cold stair "I am the toymaker" you paused what you where doing before briefly looking up for the first time Turing the game forgetting the fact you where trying to focus "doctor spoke off you once"
"Did he now?" He seemed rather fond off himself "Yes doctor said you took his friend away is that ture?" He laughed "more or less" "what did you do with him" you said firmly. "You are funny one trying to act all serious. But I think it's my turn to be asking the questions" you sigh "okay then ask away "do you like you friends (y/n)?" You paused and looked up "Yes why would you even ask a question like that" "because you are not trying very hard to win this game and get them back" "Yes I am!" "Really? Because you just let me win" you looked down to see you had 5 cards in you hand and he had non.
I had let him won.but how? I was paying full attention and he had attention 7 cards a second ago "not fair you cheated!" You yelled at him "but did I? It doesnt matter.what matters is that i won and you lost now you are stuck with me forever" What? You asked at Steven and dodo plburst through the door "(y/n)! What are you doing get away from him! Don't play a game there all rigged!" Dodo yelled at "its too late...I already lost" I said "well then I got what I came here for"The toymaker says before dodo and Steven where whisked off by 2 clowns and you try to race after them but the toymaker grabbed my arm as I watched dodo and Steven get dragged away.
"LET ME GO" you yelled at you tried to push him away as you kicked and screamed and cried. You wails depleted into sobs and you grew tired of kicking and screaming the toymaker picked you up in his arms and swayed you side to side and cooed in you ear " its okay my little doll I will take care off you"
#the celestial toymaker x reader#the toymaker x reader docter who#celestial toymaker#toymaker#the toymaker#the celestial toymaker x reader docter who#docterwho60th#docter who#doctor who x reader#celestial toymaker x reader
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
No Human Could Ever
ーー
The Toymaker
X
Reader
ーー
Summary: The Toymaker wasn't... A normal boyfriend you could say. Did he really love you, you couldn't help but wonder if it was better to be with a human.
Author's Note: This was a request @all-seeingeye . Sorry for taking this long, my health hasn't been the best, but now I am able to write again! Yay! So I truly hope you like this, I am a bit rusty... Anyways, I hope you enjoy and have an amazing spring. :)
ー
You loved the man, without a doubt, however lately you had been thinking about what your life would be with a... Normal boyfriend.
Your eyes slowly moved scanning the man behind the counter. The german fagaçe was on as you liked to think. The Toymaker had many sides to him, each slightly different from each other. You loved him dearly, but you would sometimes think that who did you exactly love?
Who exactly was the Toymaker?
Your stomach twisted making you feel sick. Was everything just an act of his? Were you a prop for one of his "sides"? But most importantly, did the Toymaker love you?
Did he really even love you?
Your mouth felt dry and your hands needed something to do. You started to organise one of the shelves in the shop. However once your thoughts let themselves in, they were not going to leave anytime soon.
Maybe you should have fallen in love with a human instead? Guilt flooded your head instantly after the thought.
"Do you love me?", you asked quietly, your voice was uneven. Even the desert of Sahara had more water than your mouth had saliva. Your hands instead were clammy and cold.
Were you really panicking?
"Und what is that question meine libeling?", The Toymaker asked not really paying attention to your shaking body.
Were you shaking? Apparently, yes.
"Cut it out! Just say that you don't love me!", you cried out afraid your legs wouldn't work. You couldn't see his reaction, your back was turned to him.
"What is wrong my dear?", a soft and smooth hypnotizing voice asked close to your ear making shivers go down your spine. The Toymaker had dropped the german accent making you realise he didn't appreciate you yelling at him.
A tear rolled down your cheek, and after that tears just kept coming.
"I- I just. Do you love me?", you asked again feeling how his hands snaked their way around you. Pulling your back to his chest.
He pressed his lips to your ear and was quiet for a moment.
"And what makes you ask that question?", The Toymaker quietly asked. His warmness was comforting, his scent wrapped you into a safe bubble.
"I don't know what is 'you', what truly is the real you?", you quietly asked closing your eyes.
The Toymaker was quiet, his grip got a little tighter around you.
"I am the Toymaker", he whispered while pressing feathery kisses down to your neck making you shiver again. Then he got back to your ear again.
"And The Toymaker loves you my dear, and I can say, he loves you very much"
He stopped with the small kisses and you could feel the Cheshire cat smile spreading on his face.
The Toymaker raised his lips one last time to your ear and whispered.
"Oh, and The Toymaker is going to show you know how much he loves you. And it is so much that no human could ever love you that much"
That moment you knew, that he most definitely knew.
ー
#the toymaker x reader#toymaker x reader#doctor who#doctor who image#fanfiction#the celestial toymaker x reader#the toymaker
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
ー MASTERLIST ー
chessholic
Maybe now is a good time to make one. :)
This Masterlist includes...
Doctor Who
F R I E N D S
ー Doctor Who ー
The Toymaker
Bored
Summary: The Toymaker had turned you into one of his toys. However regardless of your state you couldn't help but feel rather, well, bored.
Breathing
Summary: You are having a panic attack. Someone unexpected helps you through it.
10th Doctor
[Coming Soon]
11th Doctor
Feelings (feat. 10th Doctor)
Summary: You didn't expect to meet your Doctor with a totally different face.
12th Doctor
[Coming Soon]
ー F R I E N D S ー
The One With
Comfort
Summary: Your boyfriend was a jerk and he broke up with you. Fortunately you had your friends and all of them helping you in their own ways
Joey Tribbiani
The One With
Joey's Food
Summary: JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD... However it seems that rule might not apply when it comes to you
#doctor who#doctor who image#the celestial toymaker x reader#the toymaker x reader#10th doctor#10th doctor x reader#tenth doctor#tenth doctor x reader#11th doctor#11th doctor x reader#eleventh doctor#eleventh doctor x reader#12th doctor#12th doctor x reader#twelfth doctor#twelfth doctor x reader#masterlist#the toymaker#fanfiction#joey tribbiani x reader#friends#joey tribbiani
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii, I have question ab the yuus (any yuus you want)
If they could be sorted into the NRC dorms, which one would they be in?
And may~be what kind of unique magic they would have if they did posses magic? 👉👈
🪡-Tailor!Yuu- Pomefiore
"Let's Stick Together"-Fuse two materials with seamless binds.
Used to fix tears in fabrics and cuts
Can be used to bind someone to an object but the fusion will loosen with enough pulling
🩺-Vet!Yuu-Savanaclaw
"The Lion Sleeps Tonight"- Sedate a target into an instant coma or relieves pain. (Like laughing gas)
Used on unwilling patients and anyone being annoying
Necessary for Spelldrive when players sustain bad injuries that can't be fixed on the field.
🔫-Special Forces!Yuu- Scarabia
"Flower of Adversity"- Summons two weights, strength, and discipline that will attach themselves to the target. The weights are proportional to the target's negative attitude that the caster chooses.
The effect is dispelled if the target overcomes the flaw chosen
It won't work on people too dense to realize their flaws.
Yuu can't find the insecurity to target for the spell to work on Rook.
🌊- Marine Biologist!Yuu- Octavinelle
"Heart of the Sea"- Allows the user to move water no matter the depth.
Used to keep water out of boat and parting the literal sea. Mostly for researching Sea life
Yuu doesn't realize that they are a water bender and doesn't care.
🪶-Harpy!Yuu- Savanaclaw
"Mine!Mine!Mine!"- Give the user the ability to spot valuable objects through any barriers. The objects are highlighted with a sparkling glint.
Used to steal shiny objects.
Note: Kalim is shiny objects
🌷-Gardener!Yuu- Heartslabyul
"Golden Afternoon"- Causes plants to grow at an expositional rate.
Used to instantly get fruits and veggies ready to be harvested
Used to create walls of plants for defense.
🍴-Chef!Yuu- Heartslabyul
"Anyone can cook"- Summons small bag used as interdimensional storage with an unknown capacity. Used to store ingredients and cooking tools
Can store stuff other than food but Yuu has never considered that.
♨️-Onsen!Yuu- Octavinelle
"Be our Guest"- A soothing scent wafts in the air that causes people to relax and forget their worries.
Works like the Lotus Eaters from the Odyssey
The effect makes it impossible to focus on how much you're spending at the spa.
🌙-Celestial!Yuu- Diasomnia
They are a literal God! Do they really need more power?!
Yes
"A Dream is a Wish"- literally grants wishes but only wishes that are the heart's true desires. If the wish isn't clear then it won't come true.
Getting a wish is almost impossible unless you're Silver who never asks for one.
Lilia got one but only because he tricked Yuu. He wished to marry Yuu. Chad move.
🎮-Otaku!Yuu- Ignihyde
"Wildest Dreams"- create a digital simulation that creates lifelike holograms. The simulation can replica any fantasy experience the occupants desire. Functions as an isolated chamber for those inside.
The room can be used to trap people in a simulation of the caster's choosing. The target would need to be very observant to realize they are in a simulation and escape.
The room is soundproof and can used for desensitization for those who get overwhelmed (Idia)
🔮-(???)Yuu-Diasomnia
"Into the Woods"- creates a foggy mist that blankets the area. I mist causes disorientation and over time panic. The targets will become lost and travel in circles while trying to escape.
Yuu has no control over the mist. It follows them.
🎬-Theater kid!Yuu-Pomefiore
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"- A very simple spell despite how it sounds. It just makes it so you can remember rehearsed lines without a script and not stumble over words
Despite how it is used this spell is actually a memory spell. The user can use it to recall even the most deep seeded memories and test answers they studied.
⛓️- Disciplinary Committee!Yuu- New Ramshackle
"Chain the Beast"- Creates an anti-magic field that dispels all spells within the radius. Weakens users within to prevent further casting.
The spell is used to stop all fighting from students and disables them to be taken in by the discipline officers.
The spell is used rarely due to the taxing effect of Yuu which is why they rely on their officers to take over after the spell ends.
🧹-Maid!Yuu- Heartslabyul
"Whistle while you Work"- Animating objects to to do tasks like assisting in cleaning, cooking and dressing.
Very Disney princess meets Fantasia.
💎-Noble!Yuu-Pomefiore
"Mirror, Mirror"- Ask your reflection any question to find the secrets of others. They can even use it to watch other people.
A dangerous spell that Yuu uses to spy on others.
If Yuu uses the reflection of another person allows them to interrogate a target.
🪀-Toymaker!Yuu- Ignihyde
"No Strings"- The caster places a part of their being into an inanimate object and gives it the gift of life.
Yuu has only used this spell once to bring a doll they created to life. This became their little sister Dalia or Dolly.
Given its nature, the spell can't be cast more than a handful of times in a lifetime.
#tailor!yuu#vet!yuu#marine biologist!yuu#special forces!yuu#harpy!yuu#gardener!yuu#chef!yuu#onsen!yuu#celestial!yuu#otaku!yuu#(???)!yuu#theater kid!yuu#disciplinary committee!yuu#maid!yuu#noble!yuu#toymaker!yuu#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland yuu#twst yuu
595 notes
·
View notes
Text
TO WHOEVER IS THE ANON WHO SENT ME AN ASK WITH A SUGGESTION FOR A TOYMAKER X READER FIC ILYSM I HOPE YOU'RE ALWAYS HAPPY AND NEVER SAD THANK YOU /sincere
on that note, requests are open for the nuwho doctors and masters (+ the toymaker, obviously) I can't promise what I write will be the best but I certainly promise to try alsdjskjna
#doctor who#doctor who x reader#the toymaker#the celestial toymaker#the toymaker x reader#the doctor#the doctor x reader#the master#the master x reader#ninth doctor x reader#tenth doctor x reader#eleventh doctor x reader#twelfth doctor x reader#thirteenth doctor x reader#simm master x reader#gomez master x reader#dhawan master x reader#aeron asks for requests
67 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ferrariflowers
ferrari_flowers
dragongirl2
Meg
royalewarriors
Island of Royale Warriors
mythicalgreendaygirl
Angie Insomniac
gv-archangel
Machinist's Guardian Archangel's Sources