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{[ Rules and Limitations of the Dolls }}

- If your doll is injured, and if it happens when they are frozen, they will feel the pain once they become alive. Your dolls will not bleed, they do not have human-flesh.

- Your dolls have human-like emotions. They can be happy, sad, angry. They can even cry... Emotions; That's what makes life interesting, even if you are a doll.

- Dolls can break, almost like humans do. But if your doll breaks in such an inhumane manner, it is much like death. Though there is not a gorey mess, it will be a broken, lifeless doll that is shattered.

- You can't leave the doll house. But you sure can try! Escape is what almost all of the dolls want...

- When the dolls are frozen, they are unable to choose their outfits! So, when it is night, they are allowed to change their awful clothes! There is a closet inside the dollhouse with tons of different outfits. {{Of course you'd have to describe them for us.}}

- Before the sun rises and dolls become unable to move again, they have to get back into the position that they were in (and state of dress/undress) before they came alive for the night.


--More rules/limitations might be added some time... The dolls may find out more.--

{{Types of Dolls }}

- Porcelain Dolls - Pretty breakable...

- Wooden Dolls - Very flammable...

--You are allowed to pick which you'd like to be. If you are going to be more than one doll, that is fine.--

Children some times give their dolls names. But since these dolls can think and are alive, they are able to choose their own names.

{{ The Dolls }}
There will probably be a lot of dolls... PM me your profile. Will post here!

Gaia Name: Fatal Fail
Name: Bartleby
Gender: Male
Type of Doll: Porcelain
Appearance:


Gaia Name: isuki-aangie
Name: Aangie
Gender: Female
Type of Doll: Porcelain
Appearance:


Gaia Name: Dusk Wolf
Name: Erin
Gender: Female
Type of Doll: Porcelain
Appearance:


Gaia Name: velvet_sometimes
Name: Cybele
Gender: female
Type of Doll: Porcelain
Appearance:


Gaia Name: flightoftheunicorn
Name: Olivia
Gender: Female
Type of Doll: Porcelain
Appearance:


Gaia name: Fu-Fu Emo-girlz
Doll name: Sakura Mistwood
Gender: Female
Type of doll: Porcelain Doll
Appearance:


Username: Corrupted Avenue
Name: Rytogu
Type of doll: wooden
Appearance:




Gaia Name: CrazyDuckToy
Name: Clementyne
Gender: Female
Type of Doll razz orcelain
Appearance:



Gaian Name: Corrupted Avenue
Name: Arisharu
Gender: Female
Type of Doll: Porcelain
Appearance:


{{ The Brat Children and Father }}


Gaia Name:I Genetic Emancipation I
Name: Moshi and Alec
Gender: Male
Age: 15 and 16
Appearance:

Moshi has black hair, Alec has blonde. Moshi is 15, Alec is 16. Moshi loves dolls, Alec hates them.

Gaia Name: DemonGurlE
Name: Samantha
Gender: Female
Age: 9
Appearance:


Name: Oliver {{Father}}
Gender: Male
Age: 57
Appearance:

»

»»» Bartleby thought for a moment, 'Today is Sunday...' He was stuck standing behind Aangie, like he was watching her play the piano since the last time they were played with. His hands together, like he was getting ready to clap. 'If only it was 7:16 Pm,' he thought. It wasn't hard for any of the dolls to catch up on around which times the sun would rise and set, thanks to the grandfather clock. Sunrise and sunset was always the same each week.
How he wished he could move right then... He didn't really like standing behind any of the dolls watching them. It just felt awkward. And he'd be stuck feeling awkward for quite some time!

­««««Please, give me my sin!»»»»

Olivia lay on the floor of the parlor, face down with one arm awkwardly stretched out in front of her. Her pretty blue dress had been removed and she was in the camisole and lace-trimmed panties that were a part of the undergarments that went with her gown. Her honey blond ringlets were in disarray, but she didn't care too much about that (though she did care an awful lot about being in her undergarments - she was furious and humiliated!). At night, when she was free, she almost always brushed her hair out so that it was spread out loose across her shoulders. It was easy to rearrange her hair back into ringlets before morning, because it had been made to curl in that way. It was much more difficult to get it to stay loose than to finger brush it back into the two solid akward ringlets that hung down in front of her shoulders during the day. Irregardless of what she did with her hair at night, she always changed her dress. The stiff, starchy blue fabric of her Victorian gown might be pretty, but the dress was so wide, that if she walked around wearing it, tables and other things that the dress brushed up against were knocked over when she walked by.

Olivia took great pride in her appearance. She always made sure that she looked fabulous before she left her room to join the other dolls in the living room for the night. As she lay on the floor, her thoughts turned to the gentle little girl who had first owned them. She remembered how the girl had often held Olivia on her lap and read stories to her, softly stroking Olivia's hair and telling her, "You're beautiful, Olivia." She missed the sweet little girl, and though she wouldn't have wanted to admit it to anyone else, she had loved the child dearly. When they had all finally figured out what had happened to the little girl, Olivia had shut herself in her room and laid on her bed and wept all night for 3 nights in a row. Never again would she hear the words, "You're beautiful, Olivia" or feel the small, soft hands stroking her hair softly, or be held on the little girl's lap as she read Olivia fairytale stories. That such a sweet, gentle person was no longer in the world - a person that she had loved so much, grieved Olivia's heart deeply. The thought of never getting to be held by her again was unbearable.

Olivia had never really been the same after that. She kept to herself more, spent at least an hour every night just getting ready to go down to join the other dolls, and talked very little - on some nights, she didn't even go down to join the other dolls at all. Every night, as she brushed her hair while looking in the mirror, she tried to tell herself, "You're beautiful, Olivia," but she could never really quite believe the words when she said them to herself. Somehow, it seemed so important to be beautiful - for a doll, it meant that she would be the one most held and played with, most loved. Little girls loved beautiful dolls, she knew. To her, to be beautiful was equated with being lovable and loved. Olivia liked to tell herself that she "was the fairest of them all," but in her heart, she knew it wasn't true. All the dolls were beautiful, and some, she knew, were much more beautiful than her. She also knew that the child they all had loved had loved all of them equally. Olivia wanted to be special, to be different. Though she looked outwardly strong in her cold, haughty aloofness, she was very fragile inside, and when the child she loved had died, something inside of her broke.

But now, beauty was more of a curse than a blessing. The two cruel older children seemed to love to taunt, harass, damage, and humiliate the dolls. Just the other day, one of the older children had walked toward Olivia with a pair of scissors and picked her up. But right at that moment, Moshi had walked into the play room with their father. "Look father!" he had said, "This is what they do to the dolls when I'm not around!" Olivia had been put down hurriedly, and the child made some excuse about wanting to cut Olivia's hair, but had been punished anyway. Those dolls had been expensive, and their father certainly had no intention of letting his children destroy them! Telling their father had been a very brave thing for Moshi to do, for this meant that the "tattletale" would be punished later on by his siblings. His body had marks on it - cuts, scrapes, and bruises - just as almost all the dolls' bodies had - somewhere hidden below their clothes, ugly drawings done in permanent marker, scratches made with paperclips and scissors. He tolerated the physical abuse of his own body without a word because he knew that to protest meant even more pain, but he couldn't bear to see them hurting the defenseless dolls that he loved so much, so sometimes, even though he was frightened of the consequences, he would show his father what his older siblings had been doing to the dolls.

"Fairytales ..." Olivia mused in her thoughts, as she remembered the stories that their first owner had read to them. In fairytales, there is always a prince to save the princess and to love her and tell her that she is beautiful. Moshi was their prince, the one who always tried to save them whenever he could and who loved and cherished them. "But who would be the 'prince' to save him?" Olivia wondered. The child so desperately needed someone to save him too! It was when she had these thoughts that Olivia wished she were tall and strong so that she could protect the child who tried so hard to protect the dolls.

Olivia felt a yearning to go up to her room, curl up on her bed, and read the book of fairytales that she kept on a shelf there. Reading was a way of escaping from unhappy thoughts and feelings, for her. How embarassing it would be when everyone came to life and saw her there in the living room in her undergarments! She recalled with horror the day when she had been completely stripped (by one of the cruel children) and laid (fortunately face down, and with a blanket across her lower body) on the floor of Bartleby's room. There had been a very awkward moment when he, not knowing that she was in there in that state, had come into the room. All Olivia remembered about it was that she had screamed, "Get me some clothes!" in a commanding tone of voice, then a dress had landed on the floor beside her. "Get out!" she screamed again, not that she had needed to, because before the words were completely out of her mouth, the door had clicked shut. She had scrambled into the dress quickly, run out the door, slamming it behind her, dashed up to her room, slammed her door, and flopped down on her bed crying in shame and rage. Equally humiliating was that, before the sun rose, she had had to undress herself and lay face down on the floor as she had been before night came. She had stayed in her room every night for a week after that. She still couldn't look him in the eye and avoided speaking to him whenever possible. She cringed with embarassment, as she recalled that he had been set down in another part of the parlor. "Yes, I think I'll be spending the night in my room ... it would be soothing to bury herself in reading fairytale stories and forget her humiliation.

"tick tock tick tock tick tock ... " The sound of the clock was maddening. Every second brought her closer to the freedom that she longed for but also closer to the humiliation of being seen in her undergarments. Olivia was wondering just how fast she'd be able to dash up the stairs to her room - would she be able to get out the door before anyone saw her? Then, she reflected with deep embarassment that, depending on which way their heads had been turned, some of the other dolls may have seen her like that already anyway. They were dolls and were often being dressed or undressed, so it surprised Olivia that she was not used to this already. But she always felt humiliated every time something like this happened. She rather regretted that she wouldn't be staying to hear the piano played tonight, but she wanted to hide in her room tonight - to shut the world out.

"Maybe," she thought, "I could dash upstairs, get dressed, and sneak back down to borrow the checker set for the night. It's not as popular as chess, so if I borrow it, maybe no one will miss it. Even though I do want to read, I'm also in the mood to play a board game. I've played checkers by myself before, and even though it's not as fun, I still enjoy it."

If she didn't do that tonight, she would definitely play a board game with someone tomorrow night. She never tired of playing games - it was always fun. It also helped to give her an excuse to interact with the other dolls too, which, though she wouldn't have admitted, she really craved. Normally, she just came down to the parlor, pulled a book off the shelf and sat down on the sofa or one of the chairs to read. Sometimes, she set up the chess set and started playing a game by herself unless someone asked to play with her. She loved chess and was fairly good at it too. She lost sometimes, but she won alot. There were books on chess strategy on the bookshelf. She had read all of them, fascinated by the complex strategy it often took to win a game of chess.