Batman Dollhouse Novels & Stories

I bought a stun baton so that Selena could take it around when she left the house. But she thought that it was ugly and would destroy her image as an exquisite housewife, so I could only leave the stun baton in the entryway drawer. However, this particular stun baton did not seem right. It was shorter than the one I had bought, and there were strange lines on it. With a frown, I took a photo of it to identify it. In the next second, the product description popped up. [An adult toy. Silent. Easy to carry and can vibrate.]

The dollhouse is small enough to carry and large—enough to sit on a table and become a world. Mia stands with both hands pressed flat against her sternum as if holding herself in. The dollhouse is painted soft white with lavender trim. The roof is shingled in what might be real cedar, each piece cut small and laid in overlapping rows, and a tiny copper weathervane at the peak has a crown instead of a rooster. There are four rooms visible from the open side—a throne room with a floor made from thin slices of shell, a bedroom with a canopy bed that has actual fabric on it, fabric so small it might have been cut from a scarf. There is a kitchen with a bucket the size of a thumbnail. There is a

Zariah always said dolls were misunderstood. People thought they were cute. Delicate. Passive. But to her, they were powerful. And tonight, she was ready to play. The Doll House stood behind a velvet curtain at the back of her apartment, a soundproof room bathed in low amber light. Walls lined with mirrored panels. Velvet chaise lounges. A wardrobe of corsets, lace gloves, and porcelain masks. Every detail designed for submission. And control. She opened the door, heels echoing on the dark hardwood.

Havermouth, Present Time It was fascinating to see where the werewolves who had tormented her at school lived, Aislen thought looking out the window as they pulled up to the neat and tidy suburban house with it’s pristine lawn and bloom-heavy rose garden. Part of her hated the domestic perfection of the house because it represented everything that she didn’t have. “Oh, look,” she muttered. “It’s the domestic Barbara set. Each pack contains the dreamhouse, one Barbara doll, one Kenneth doll, one boy doll and one baby doll. Is there a cat and dog doll, or do they come as separate purchases?”

At the mention of it, of course, her reaction was expected. " The one Daddy Dominic bought me!" Chloe squeeled as she took it from Camille's hands. " Don't call him that! He is my Daddy! Alone!" Fury lined Lila’s little voice as she warned, almost at the verge of tears. Dominic had bought the Dollhouse for his first love's daughter, despite his own daughter having begged for it before...I felt like I was being choked. " What if he is your father? He loves me more! He spends time with me more.." Chloe declared, so proudly that I couldn't stay still.

"If I'm supposed to play a role, I need to know the stage." Adrian released my jaw, stepping back to grab his suit jacket from the back of the armchair. He slipped it on, his shoulders squaring under the tailored fabric. "We are going to an exclusive, underground black-market auction house. It’s located beneath a luxury hotel downtown, run by a neutral faction that caters only to the elite of the underworld." I stared at him, trying to process the words. "A black-market auction? At two in the morning?"

Not hers. My hands started shaking. 'Are they selling off coma patients' bodies?' All those stories from school came flooding back. My skin crawled. I fought the nausea and fear, forced myself to finish cleaning her up. I was about to leave when I saw it—the music box on her nightstand. Ms. Deinert had told me not to mess with it. But my hand moved anyway. I popped it open. No music. Just velvet at the bottom. Then I saw it—tiny crumbs near the edge. Crackers, maybe?

I know in time all this training would come in handy if any situation would arise and will find myself in between. He wasn’t here, of course. But words may travel much more quickly than any disease, and he’ll know about my fight. That I wasn’t just any porcelain doll used for display only. Fragile and precious that always needed protection. I am not just an ordinary pet doll. I position myself in the middle of the ring, squaring my stance. The bell tolled and I braced myself as my opponent delivers the first move. This doll will fight and will win no matter what.

A lush garden filled with vibrant flowers and towering trees. In the centre lies a small, serene grave adorned with a single peony. Rhys with a weathered face and gentle eyes, slowly approached, his steps heavy with the weight of memories. Raindrops fell softly, casting a melancholic veil over the scene. He smiled down at the grave and replaced the weathered Peony with a new one. “Another day, my doll.” With trembling hands, he delicately placed a fresh peony on the grave, its petals glistening with raindrops. He knelt beside it, his movements slow and deliberate. Sitting beside the grave, he gazed at it with a mixture of longing and acceptance.