#writing heals my soul

[linkedin-offficial]

chimera vivi batch of stuff #1million

[joaniejustwokeup]

DPxDC Prompt:

The next blow sent the human tumbling into the wall. It wheezed and spat up a gob of blood, pulling itself up on trembling arms and legs.

Pathetic.

“So this is the mortal who captured our young king’s attention. The so-called warrior who he trusted with the sacred duty of guarding his core.”

A shadowed hand pinned it to the wall and it uselessly pawed at the blade-like claws pressed against its fragile throat.

“How a weakling like you seduced High King Phantom, I’ll never know.”

The human squeezed its eyes shut. I’m sorry Danny, it mouthed with cracked and bleeding lips.

The impudence.

Slammed into the ruined bricks once more, the human let out a breathless cry.

“You dare address him like that. You dare to call upon his living name!” Dagger sharp teeth dripped shadowy ectoplasm inches from the mortal’s flesh.

“I’m doing him a favor, disposing of you.”

There was silence.

Then.

The human looked up with glowing green eyes.

A wave of unearthly force erupted from its body.

A dual layered voice echoed out from its miserable throat.

“Oh you just made a BIG mistake.”

[buttdumplin]

I’m still on the latine reader train and fucking of course I had to do one of their baby’s ears getting pierced. The boys all react a little differently, but boy, are they amazing fathers.

cw: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, piercing mentioned but not described, baby is nicknamed Bug word count: 3k

It’s not something you’d spend a lot of time thinking about, getting your baby girl’s ear pierced. Hell, it wasn’t something you had a hard opinion on even before she came into your lives. But one day, something stirs in you. She’s around 5mos old, trying her hardest to roll over in the center of a nest of pillows her fathers have piled up around her, when you make the call. And while your partners are all understanding and loving, Kyle is the one you approach.

You plop down on the couch next to him, pulling his arms around you to make him hold you. Testing the waters, you spread small, quick kisses on his cheek. It’s a clear gauge of his current mood, and it has him squinting down at you. Not judging, more curious. He knows you’re about to drop something. 

“I’m thinking about getting Bug little golden studs.”

“That would make a lovely heirloom for when she gets older, something she can keep on her.”

“No, I mean la voy a llevar down to the piercer this week.”

His arms stiffen around you, and his lack of immediate response makes you turn to look at him. Kyle’s eyes are locked on the baby, his face perfectly neutral in a way you know he’s mastered for his job, like this was also somehow a threat to national security, to life as he knew it to be.

 “Vida mía… are you sure?” concern finally creeping in to scrunch his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m worried arracadas would snag on something as she’s learning to move more.”

It’s his turn to look at you, and all Kyle finds on your face is the stillness of peace that comes with having made a decision. 

“We’ll wait to tell the others,” he knows better than to ask and it has you throwing a big, beaming smile his way. All he can do at this point is return your kisses and ask you to share a link to the shop you want to take your baby girl to. 

You got to bed excited that night, thrilled by Kyle’s support. He, on the other hand, stays up late hidden in the bathroom, digging up as much info as he can on the shop to make sure it’s a reputable place. He’s reading every single review folks have left on both the individual piercers and the place itself, and he’s pinching in on every picture to zoom in and look for even the smallest sign of something wrong. A single picture of misaligned piercings would be all that it takes from him to call it all off. But he finds nothing. No skeezy people in the shop, no questionable client pictures, and the shop even has their health and safety certifications on proud display. Well, at least it seems like you chose a good shop.

The next day, Kyle is driving you down to the shop, hands tight on the steering wheel. He wants to be there. He has to be there. Pleased with all his digging and research on the shop, he holds Bug and coos down at her as you run through the details with the piercer. He’s straining his ears like never before, just to try to catch the piercer saying a single thing that sounds off so he can haul you both out of the shop and back home. But again, everything checks out. 

His voice is low and rough as he says, “I’d like to hold her as you do it, if that’s alright.”

You know he’s just trying to look out for Bug, trying to maintain some type of control in this terrifying moment, so you just kiss his shoulder and nod at him. Kyle doesn’t say much else. He sits still with his little girl in his arms, eyes wider than usual, taking in every detail he can.

Are the needles and jewelry sterile? The piercer’s pen marks look even on her little ears. Are the piercer’s hands shaking? This close to her little face?

It all happens quickly and nearly painlessly. You’re pretty sure Bug only cried out from how tense Kyle’s arms got as the needle came closer, scared just from sensing his fear. As the piercer finishes cleaning off your little girl’s ears, you hear Kyle release what must have been a held breath. The strain around his eyes immediately warns you of the blistering headache he just gave himself. 

You take his hand gently, “All done.”

He nods shakily and presses a kiss to the top of Bug’s head.

He’s never been so proud of his baby girl before. She faced off with something sharp and pain, and she barely batted an eye. Even after, it was almost like nothing had happened. Bug went back to babbling away in an attempt to talk to the piercer, who was kind enough to carry on a short conversation with her. It makes his heart swell with an unbelievable amount of hope. She’ll be able to face the entire world itself by the time she’s grown.

Kyle spends the drive back home in the backseat, looking for any signs of discomfort as your little girl sleeps, her little hand locked around his finger, his smile completely stuck on his face.

~

Simon is the only one home when you get back. He sits in the living room, putzing around with all of Bug’s toys and rugs, clearly waiting for you to get home and preparing for some play time. There aren’t any Baby and Me classes that day, at least as far as he knows. So it must have been something else that pulled you from the house.

He greets both you and Kyle with a soft kiss and a little hum, then reaches for the carseat, “How’s our sweet girl?”

Her gurgles answer him, and she gives him a big gummy smile as he pulls her from the seat. You and Kyle slowly move to put the key and car seat and jackets away, keeping a careful eye on Simon. He lays his baby girl down in his lap, helping bicycle her little legs with big, tender hands. And everything seems fine. Simon is clearly happy to be spending time with Bug again, and you and Kyle both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief. The sound of it, unfortunately, is bigger than it should in the room, taking up all the space left open by Simon’s absolute silence. Your eyes go wide and meet Kyle’s, his own reflecting the slight worry in yours, and you both sit on either side of Simon.

“Cariño, are you alright?” you plant a kiss on his cheek, Kyle’s arm finds its way around Simon’s back.

Now that you’re next to him, you can see the little quiver of his lower lip and the tears gathering on blonde lashes, eyes locked in on the little golden studs. His stuttered breathing is the only thing to break the silence.

“She’s so little,” he chokes out, “It must have hurt her so bad.” His tears finally fall as his fingers hover near the baby’s ears. 

Kyle presses himself against Simon’s side, “Oh, sweetheart. She’s alright, just look at how happy she is to be with you now.”

“Le dolió más a Kyle than it did her, and he just held her through the whole thing.”

Simon immediately remembers all the times he’s held his baby girl as she’s gotten her shots, how she’s squirmed and cried til she was purple in the face, and he takes another stuttering breath, “What if it makes her scared of jewelry, what if she comes to associate it all with pain?”

You can’t help but smile a little at the stark differences of the picture before you. Simon��s big frame hunches over the baby and his large, scarred hands gently hold her, his face growing ruddy as more tears fall and he starts to sniffle. Meanwhile Bug is wiggling away happily as she lays against the warmth of his thighs, little fists swinging around, feet kicking excitedly at the sound of Simon’s voice. 

“I think she’ll be glad she won’t have to heal those piercings as an adult,” you say, carefully wiping his tears away. 

Simon chuckles at your comment, taking a tissue from Kyle to clean up his nose, “Yeah, I suppose it is easier now since she’s still sleeping on her back.”

“Plus think of all the jewelry we’ll get to buy her as she grows, toda chipleada.”

Simon gives a full laugh at that, his hands returning to bicycling Bug’s legs. His chest moves with the deep breaths he finally allows himself, his little girl’s infectious smile catching on his face too. What a beautiful, softhearted man he is. He turns to give you each a kiss on the forehead as you and Kyle lean against him, “I’ll have to start tucking away some more money for that then.”

By the time he’s bringing Bug down to the ground to get her moving and playing with her toys, his tears have stopped. A few sniffles pop up every now and then, but he’s smiling, his big, brown eyes warm with love as he plays with her. Simon slowly moves to lay down next to her, mimicking her as she lays on her tummy, his head resting against his folded arms. His eyes flick to her ears every now and then, as if he’s trying to keep an eye out for a potential reaction. But the more pressing matter turns out to be how hard her little hands grab at his face, pulling at his lip until he’s giggling too. He doesn’t flinch a single time. He never will, not with his loved ones. They’re the people he trusts with his entire being. 

~

Johnny’s the next one to come home, arriving just a couple of hours later. He comes in the door to find you’re all working on setting up lunch: Kyle is on table duty and sets out drinks, you’re finishing up shoving doritos into the sandwiches, and Simon is still in the living room with baby Bug. Johnny smiles so big his face hurts a little. There are few things he loves as much as just seeing his little family. He could have the single worst day at work, but coming home to yall? That fixes his entire world. 

He stands by the door, where he can see all of you, and throws his arms out, “My loves, my dearest ones, I am home.” 

You all turn to smile at him. Normally, you’d all come up to greet him with a kiss. It’s a cute little ritual he’s come to love. But you’re all understandably occupied, so it’s his turn to make rounds. He steps to you and Kyle in the kitchen first, pulling you both into his arms so he can place light, lingering kisses to your mouths.

“Feeling your lips against mine once again has righted the world,” his big declarations of love will never truly end, but yall well know just how ecstatic he is to be home again. He’s quick to steal a couple of chips from you, shoving them into his mouth before you can reprimand him. Kyle receives a quick swat to his bum and he chases after Johnny a couple of steps, mirth lighting both their faces.

Johnny jogs over to join Simon on the floor, giving him a careful kiss as well.

“Our sweet Bug, trying so hard to roll. What a perfect little-”

And you know he’s clocked it. The sunshine gleaming off her little studs catches his eye.

“What’s this?” he rises back to his feet, eyes darting to each of your faces.

 Simon is the first to try to address his concern, “She’s alright, love. Watch, she’s moving about like nothing happened.”

“No. No. She’s too small to be dealing with this,” Johnny’s pacing the room, hand in his hair as his eyes continue to bounce between your faces. He keeps looking down at his baby girl, the little gold in her ears still shining, her happy little babbling only stopping as she tries to pull Simon’s finger into her mouth. And still, Johnny paces. 

 “It’s perfectly safe for her age, and the shop was of the highest quality,” Kyle says, stepping into the living room as Johnny continues to wear a track into the carpet. The technical reassurance has him pausing for a moment, the hand clenched in his hair relaxing a fraction. 

“But why?” Johnny’s voice climbs a little higher. He’ll never shout at any of you, but the emotion has to come out somehow. “She’s so young. This could have waited.”

More and more questions and rationalizations sprout from his mouth as his pacing picks back up. He brings up his sisters, he brings up his ma. None of them got piercings until they were much older. Then they could pick what they wanted and where. He briefly mentions consent, worried that this means he’s also overstepped as a father. And at one point he just says the word “baptism” and lets out a long groan. Still, he paces. His eyes turn electric with the sheer need to understand. He’s spiraling.

“Johnny, it’s cultural,” you cut through his rambling. It stops him in his tracks. 

“Cultural?”

You give him a nod, and his shoulders ease down from their tense clench. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so? We’ll have so many cute options for her once they heal,” he says with a smile once again adorning his face, plopping down to join Simon and Bug. “Is there a sandwich for me too, or should I make my own?”

 You let out a breathless laugh, the boys look up at you from the floor, smiles toothy and proud.

Kyle covers his face with his hands for a moment, mumbling something to himself before going back into the kitchen, “Yeah, we already have one for you, you brat.”

~

When Price arrives home, he lingers by the door for just a moment, taking in all the sounds of his family chattering and giggling away. He’ll never say it out loud, at least not unless he’s directly asked, but the sound alone of all of you happy and healthy and safe rejuvenates him, adds another 5 years to his life every time. He smiles a little to himself as he puts his shoes into the rack, mindful of where he stores his pack too. You’ve been kind enough to help figure out a system to keep all their shit straight and easily accessible for coming and going, and he tries to reinforce it so much with the other boys that he’s not about to fuck it up.

He’s still smiling as he joins the rest of you in the living room. Price is expecting the usual big smiles and lunging for hugs, but instead, he’s met with all of you trying to talk over each other. Kyle’s on the floor with Simon, both with a hand to help Bug sit up, and you and Johnny are shoving and trying to push the other behind. He can make out Johnny saying the word “cultural” over and over again, but the rest is jumbling together. 

Price raises a single hand, immediately silencing the room, “You can all explain what exactly is going on, one at a time, but first I will make my rounds.” 

He makes his way around the room, carefully bending for a kiss from each of you. Truly, of all the rules yall have put in place, this is one of Price’s favorites, the greeting smooches for everyone when they come in the door. It gives yall a chance to reconnect, and it really helps him settle back into the peace of his role as a father and partner. He gets to focus on his family in these moments, and he wouldn’t trade that for the fucking world.

As he picks Bug up to give her her own little smooch, the commotion starts again, making him raise his hand once more. He looks over his sweet little girl, taking in her excited little noises and smiling in return.

“Gold looks beautiful on you, Bug,” he murmurs as he gives her another smooch, enjoying the little squealing his facial hair causes. 

You let out a little whoop and the rest of the boys give a joyous little cheer as well, immediately launching into how they can use this new development to best spoil their precious Bug. And that’s all there is to it. At least in that moment.

Later on, as you’re all getting ready for bed, you notice Price is still in the nursery. He’s messing with the baby monitor, turning it on and off a couple of times to check the battery, bringing it in as close to the crib as he can. All he needs to do is tap on it to check the mic to complete a full system check. And just as you’re about to call him to bed, he does just that. He turns at the sound of your chuckle, his face so pink you know it’s spread all the way down his neck.

“You bought the top-of-the-line monitor, remember, corazon? Todo ese dinero on fancy walkie-talkies,” you press the words against his chest as he holds you close.

“Can never be too sure.”

A couple of hours later, you’re trying to untangle yourself from the too-warm cuddle puddle and all the entangled legs when you notice Price is no longer in bed. But you hear it before you get too far in your search for him, his gravelly voice humming a song through the baby monitor. 

You walk into the nursery to spot him on the big rocking chair, his legs up and reclined as possible, Bug sleeping against his bare chest. 

“She’s wounded,” he croaks as you run your fingers through his hair, “she needs her daddy to heal.” 

You don’t bring attention to the way his voice is choked up with tears, “Claro que sí, papi.”

“You were her age when you got yours?”

“I was younger.”

“And it didn’t hurt?”

“Never.”

He goes quiet, relishing the feeling of her little back rising and falling under his hand as she breathes.

“Can we take her to the guest room? Sleep with her? At least for tonight?” his nervousness seeps into his voice as he asks.

You grab the baby monitor with you as you walk him towards the guest room, just so the boys don’t panic when they wake up. Thank god yall regularly maintain the guest rooms, it makes settling the pillows and bedding much easier this late at night.

Price shakes his head when you motion towards the center of the bed for him to lay Bug down. Instead, he climbs in alongside you, keeping a sleeping Bug on his chest.

“Just for tonight,” he whispers, “Just for tonight.”

In the morning, Kyle’s voice wakes you, “I don’t know how Bug does it. She sleeps better through his snoring than any of us.”

AN: Once again, HUGE fucking shoutout to @mikichko for encouraging this and also giving us Price's precious line of "she's wounded, she needs her daddy to heal." I can't thank you enough, Kiko.

[starrylevi]

🐚 A tiny bit of dadvi! Inspired by this tiktok 🐚

You watch Levi as he wheels his way across the boardwalk, stopping every once in a while to pick up something buried in the sand. You wait for a few seconds before walking over to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Seashells.” Levi mumbles to you.

“Hm?” You don’t quite hear him.

Levi sighs and repeats himself. “Seashells.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. You glance over and see a small pile of seashells in his lap.

Levi answers your silent question as he follows your gaze. “They’re not for me. They’re for Armin.”

You take in his words and remember that Armin’s birthday is tomorrow. “That’s so-“

“Don’t. Please don’t.” He cuts you off before you make a big fuss and you giggle in response.

“Okay.” You snicker. “Do you need help?”

“Maybe.”

“I can carry the seashells for you.” You offer him.

He seems to contemplate it. “Okay…Thank you.”

You give him a beaming smile. “You’re welcome.”

You see a hint of pink on his cheeks before he mumbles a couple more words. “Love you.”

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG I’m so excited for this!!! Can I request Vil with the prompt rainy nights?? Can it be fluffy and romantic? Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day!! :)

Rainy Nights; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established romantic relationship

Content Warning; Reader cries because of a movie, death (movie)

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I had a vision; watching old movies with Vil as the rain came down. I had a lot of fun writing this, and this is also my first solo Vil piece, so I hope I did him justice here.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were rummaging around the TV console, going through the numerous DVDs and VHS tapes that were just sitting around and collecting dust. Tonight was your night for movie night, as yesterday was Vil’s, so you were weighing your options. Sure, there were streaming services, but there’s just something that hits differently with a physical copy, flaws and all. Plus it’s not like you could go out since it was raining like no tomorrow outside. So, movie night.

“Having any luck,” Vil gently called from the washroom, still doing his nightly routine.

Your eyes still scoured the various cases, trying to find the perfect one. “Not yet. Just give me a minute, m’kay?”

Vil gave you a hum as an answer, leaving you be.

Horror movie? No, he wouldn’t like that. Mystery? Too predictable… And then you found what looked like the most faded cases, colour worn away from age and a hand going back time and time again. That one.

Pulling it out, you dusted off the case, inspecting the title. Of the smudged-out words, you could make out The, some kind of smudged-out word, Blossom. It looked like a black-and-white movie, and on the front were the protagonists with their backs together, flower petals surrounding them, and a dagger above them. This, this is perfect.

Vil came out of the washroom, wearing his matching royal purple pyjamas and house robe, and glowing from the various skin products that he used. He looked curiously over your shoulder. “Hmm, The Bitter Blossom,” he mused, turning his gaze to you. “Is that your pick, Schatz?” His tone was light, a sign that he approved, and was mildly surprised at your pick.

“Mhm,” you hummed, placing the VHS tape into the VCR player. Whoever had played it last had saved you the trouble of rewinding it. “Have you watched it before?”

“Surprisingly, no. Copies of it are extremely hard to come by.” He got the sofa ready, adjusting the pillows, grabbing one of the many quilts, and a box of tissues, just in case. He noticed the look you were giving him, “I haven’t watched it, but I have heard about how it ends.”

You raised a brow, but shrugged. You pressed play and scrambled over to your spot next to Vil, getting comfy and pulling that handy quilt over the both of you — the rain had made it a little bit chilly.

The Bitter Blossom started playing. Not only was it in black-and-white, but it was also a silent film. The protagonists were two lovers who met by chance, their relationship going from cold strangers to a budding romance. 

But why had Vil grabbed the tissues? The movie was almost over, it couldn’t possibly—

But then the antagonist, a jealous ex of one of the main protagonists, stabbed the love interest in the back with a dagger. The movie ended with the protagonist hugging their love interest, flower blossoms falling down around them.

“Do not let the bitter blossom of hatred and vengeance bloom in your heart or mind, my love. Do not let it ruin the happiness which we fleetingly had.” The words flashed on the screen before the movie ended with the screen fading into black.

That, that was why Vil had grabbed the tissues. Wait, were you crying? That would explain why Vil was gently dabbing away the stray tears as they rolled down your face.

“A lovely film, love,” he whispered, “I should have warned you about the ending—”

You stopped him by grabbing softly at his hand, bringing it up to cup your face. “No, it’s alright. It was a beautiful movie,” you hiccuped, leaning into his touch. 

Vil caressed calming strokes on your cheek, the slow movements helping you focus on him. He placed a kiss on your forehead, a gentle hum escaping as the kiss lingered. “Oh potato,” your old nickname from when the two of you were still just only acquaintances, “what am I going to do with you?”

You grabbed a tissue and loudly blew your nose, “Cuddles?”

Vil sighed softly, but put his arm around you, resting his head against yours and placing a kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he hummed and continued humming a gentle tune until you were falling asleep. While he would prefer sleeping in bed, he supposed he could stand to cuddle with you on the sofa as the rain eased up outside.

~~~~~~~

Schatz; German for treasure, a common term of endearment

Tags; @azulashengrottospiano [I've seen the Vil brain rot and gushing], @eynnwwyjth, @xxoomiii

[moonlight-s0nata]

Sometimes it feels like I was put into this world to give love but not receive it.

[beccawise7]

It's ok to get lost for a moment.

To forget who you are and even question yourself.

It's ok, but don't reside there.

Remember your worth.

Remember your power and step away from anything that doesn't add value to your journey.

~beccawise7 💜🖤

[worldbuildingwanderlust]

Find me

In the darkest places

Of your soul

Waiting by a fire

Welcoming you to

Rest

[helsensm]

making absolute BANGER art posts! I can't get enough (TT_TT)

(I'm so sorry for spam reblog/liking dksalfd )

bestie, you have nothing to apologize for, I'm always happy to see you in my notifs! 💗 I hope you're finding time for rest and fun in your tight schedule~

and when life gets hard you can hug Raiden ⚡

also THANK YOU SM I'm glad that my silly pictures spark joy hehehe

[trunklewunjle]

I did some twists and turns to the Dreamtale I included in the server me an my friends rp in, and I’ve been kinda hyper fixated so I did a little thing

I don’t like perspective but im going to have to eventually learn, soul shattering I will never be the same once i dominate it

Yea the fucking tree told him to shoot night because everyone is so mean to him so I just yknow she might as well also be mean to a fucking seven year old who knew no better 

Dreamtale (Dream and Nightmare) Belong to Jokublog

[rentumblsstuff]

Have I mentioned they own my heart?

[just-blahh]

[darethshirl]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock & Co. (Podcast) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Additional Tags: Recreational Drug Use, Autistic Sherlock Holmes, Canon Autistic Character, canon neurodivergent character, sensory issues, Bisexual John Watson, Past Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor (mentioned), Jealousy, Banter, Pining, Trust, Crushes, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Praise Kink, Humor, Fluff Summary:

The thing was, John did have a sense of self-preservation buried somewhere deep inside. He had common sense, and he could recognise a catastrophically, stupendously bad idea when it was staring him right in the face. You didn’t get involved with your housemate who was also your coworker who was also the main and only source of your income, you just didn’t. John should just shove all inconvenient thoughts into a tiny box in a recess of his mind, lock it up, and throw away the key. That was what a smart, responsible person would do.

So, naturally, John was doing the exact opposite. Like a Pandora’s box opened by the confirmation of sexual compatibility, his horny thoughts spread out and infected the rest of his brain like evil little imps.

[earthbaby-angelboy]

pinky promises | little!reader x 70s!cg!elvis (wc: 1,435) - A/N: I know, it's been forever, but I didn't want to leave you guys high and dry. so, enjoy a sweet fic about E and his baby who absolutely does not want to sleep. btw this is defo not proofread so sorry in advance! <3

It was 11:30 at night, and you knew damn well that you should've been sleeping some odd couple of hours ago. But lo and behold, your insomnia just wouldn't let you. The bigger problem wasn't necessarily that you couldn't sleep, it was that you had gotten into the habit of refusing to let yourself sleep.

Tonight was one of the nights where your brain just wouldn't stop going. All the lights in your room were on, there was a record spinning, and you were doodling random things on a spare piece of paper. You couldn't stop thinking of all the things going on in your personal life, with the main thought being that you weren't doing enough for the people around you. You were well aware that not sleeping wouldn't help the crappy emotions bubbling up, but at the same time, you felt like you didn't deserve to rest. As you laid on your bed and doodled mindless shapes, you couldn't help but wonder: "why does he keep me around?"

You'd lived with Elvis for a long while now, and it was a far cry from the life you came from. You grew up doing everything and then some. And now, you had people doing it all for you; there was always the maids running around the house, completing the housework and tasks that needed to be done. There was Mary, who was always cooking whatever you or E would request. And of course, there was the Mafia, who were always scrambling to complete whatever task their boss had requested of them. This left you with lots of free time. Most of it was spent with Elvis, galavanting on whatever adventure he had thought up, but quite a bit of it was spent in your own head. You felt guilty, like you were mooching off of the man you loved so dearly. Between those thoughts and the busyness of your life, you had pushed your regression to the back-burner of your brain; you already felt guilty that Elvis had to support yet another person in his life, nevermind a little with lots of emotionally demanding needs. No, you couldn't do that to him, but a small part of you knew it was (almost) inhumane to be doing this to yourself.

Your regression was something incredibly dear to you, and your boyfriend understood this fact very well. The last time you had genuinely regressed was months ago, and you denying yourself your biggest coping skill was killing you internally. Elvis had tried mentioning the subject once or twice, but was quickly shut down by you. You couldn't bear talking about it, knowing that it wouldn't get you any closer to being comforted. Tonight was one of those nights where your brain was screaming, pleading for you to help yourself and just give in. If not to regressing, then to sleep. But no, you were stubborn, you needed to stay awake.

Deciding that you were bored of doodling, you hopped off your bed. You stood up for a minute and swayed where you were standing, confident that you were okay to walk. Your vision began to blur and you could see stars, but you were determined to keep yourself up. Just as you went to take a step, your legs gave out from beneath you. You yelped the second your body hit the floor, more from shock than from pain. As soon as Elvis heard the thump from downstairs, he ran as quickly as he could from the table where all the guys were gathered, up to your bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, he had to take a pause and catch his breath. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he shook the discomfort away and kept on going towards your room. Swinging the door open, his eyes darted around the room before landing on you, sprawled out on the floor, panting. As you locked eyes with him, he spoke, "nungen, what're you doin' on the floor?"

You looked around, as if trying to figure out where you were. "I…I don't really know. One minute I was fine, but just as I went to get up, my vision went all fuzzy. Now I'm here." You gestured around you with a dry laugh.

Elvis looked around your room; seeing the record spinning and realizing that your lights were on, he asked the obvious.

"You keepin' yourself up again?" Your eyes dropped to the floor, and a small sense of shame filled you as he caught you in the act.

"Elvis, I've told you. It's never enough."

He knew you'd been struggling recently, both with your sleeping patterns and your mental health. You had become increasingly more agitated with him, refusing to let anyone help you with even the most mundane tasks. You had pushed him away, both physically and emotionally. He had an inkling why, and although it hurt, he wasn't going to steer you into even more discomfort.

Disagreeing with your sentiment, he shook his head as he moved to help you stand. Putting his hands beneath your arms and lifting you up, you got a pang of comfort in your chest. For just a moment, you felt like his baby, the little girl you would always be to him. But as if it was planned, the feeling dissipated and was replaced with that same shame you had felt just moments ago. Once you got your footing, you craned your head up to look at your caregiver.

His hair was tousled, his eyes were soft, and his features held something that could only be described as an air of concern. As your eyes scanned his face, you hoped for something that would break the silence hanging heavy in the air. Elvis, who could read you like a book, pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. And softly, as if not to spook you, asked, "what's goin' on inside that yittle head of yours?"

And that was all it took for the floodgates of your brain to break as you fully regressed within a matter of seconds. Your eyes watered, and before you had the chance to respond to his question, your daddy was pulling you into his arms.

"Daddy," you cried into his chest. "Been needin' daddy, but couldn' ask," you sobbed.

With how you were feeling, this was about all that you could manage to say. But to Elvis, that was all it took for him to make sense of it. You had needed to regress, but didn't want to "burden" him, simple as that. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, and placed his chin on top of your head.

So this is what was getting you so worked up.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he whispered. He couldn't help but tear up as the realization hit him: you thought of yourself as a burden upon him. How could you, the little ray of sunshine that broke through all of the crass darkness in his life, be a burden? "My beautiful baby, how could lil' old you ever be a burden on daddy? You know that ain't true." His voice cracked slightly on the last sentence, making you cry harder.

As much as you believed Elvis' words, you couldn't help but feel a haunting sense of overwhelm; at the love you were receiving or the sudden release of emotions, you couldn't decipher, but it was an amalgamation of feelings that had been longing to escape your little heart.

"C'mon," he spoke, "look at me." He gently pulled away from the hug, and put his hand beneath your chin so as to direct your attention towards him. Seeing the look on your face broke his heart.

"Honey, you don't need to worry about doin' nothin' in this house. You're just a dolly, and dollies don't need to be worryin' about doin' chores or nothin' of the sort. You bein' your cute itty-bitty lil' self is all I need. Can you do that?" He finished off with a small smile. You sniffled, and nodded aimlessly as you went right back in for another hug.

"M' sorry daddy. Buntyn's feelin' real pitiful tonight," you mumbled into his chest. He stroked your hair as he adjusted his arms around you. "I know, yittle. C'mon. We're gon' have Mary fix you some angel milk, and then we'll get all cozy. How's that sound?" You peered up at him. "Satnin gon' cuddle wit' me?" You asked innocently. He gave a small laugh, and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Satnin will always cuddle wit' his baby. I pinky promise."

[serenelity]

there are jewels that hang from my neck

and there is gold that drips from my wrists

crimson gloss over my lips

and a crown on my head

my throne is plush velvet and my heart is pumping gold all through my veins

i watch as my empire grows and thrives

and i watch as it decays and wilts

like a petal in the cold

it falls to the ground, and i fall to my feet

my crown still sits & my jewels still remain

and there is nothing but ashes at my sides

[hollowwish]

scott and pearl and cleo slept in a cuddle pile during last life send post