For Y/N's eighth birthday, her father got her a special gift, an adorable plush toy that she loves dearly. What she didn't expect was the living, breathing man that came with it. Is her doll really talking and moving around, or is her imagination th...
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A song in the form of quiet hums come from the living doll as his hand pets the head of the girl sleeping on his lap. His touches are light and slow, as to not disrupt her. Y/N's body is curled to his legs, arms squeezing his left thigh as she faintly snores. Max smiles, watching her with fondness in his eyes until he catches a flicker of darkness in the corner of his vision. That grin of his was quick to disappear as his ringed eyes shot over to the small shadow attempting to sneak onto the bed. It has no solid form or defining features. It was like a wisp of smoke crawling upon the sheets. Making no sudden movements, the doll reaches for his cane. The intruder was too engulfed in its prey to even notice. With a twist, the sword within the staff is unsheathed as the smoke draws closer to the slumbering human, who's face contorts into an expression of fear. This causes Max to narrow his eyes, and before the creature could strike, he jumps into action and kills the beast with one clean swipe of his blade. It splits into two separate streams, swirling around the sword and disappearing into the hilt.
Nightmares: tricky little buggers that like to worm inside your brain and wreak havoc. To be able to see them in physical form like this, it takes a special type of magic. Only creatures like Y/N's beloved playmate can spot them, but the question is, what is Max exactly? Where did he come from?
Well, it all began just a few years ago...
In a house, all alone, lived a woman who's long hair had greyed with age and face was full of wrinkles. Within her hands, she held a doll, stitched together by hand. In and out, the needle came through the felt, piecing together the final hole to complete the dapper, little man. She gave a smile, looking at that wide and happy grin on his face as her toe taps to the beat of the swing music played from the record player in the corner of her bedroom. She hums along to the upbeat tune while breaking the thread with her teeth before tying it into a nice and sturdy knot.
Proud of her work, the old woman displays the doll on her desk before fetching a bag of herbs and crystals from the drawer along with a letter opener. After a moment of mental preparation, she makes a small cut on her arm, deep enough for blood to pool, and winces. She does her best to ignore the sting while dipping her fingertips into the crimson to draw a circle on the surface of the desk, being as precise as possible before placing the doll in the center of the ring. The crystals are carefully placed around the circle and the herbs are sprinkled on top of the doll before she takes more blood from the wound with her pinky finger. Being super cautious, she traces around the doll's body, not wanting to taint the clean fabric.
