You pass through the entryway of your shared penthouse apartment, the doors slamming shut behind you. With a groan, you kick off your shoes and trudge over to the pink, plush couch. You bellyflop onto it, and your mind, which has had your stress amped up to eleven for the past month due to needing to finish your thesis, finally breaks away and puts you in a more vulnerable state.

As you hug one of the many plushies of Mettaton’s box form that lies around the house, the aforementioned robot enters the room. “Well, hello, beau-” Mettaton stops short as he sees you curled up like a cat on the couch, hands clenched around the marketable plush. He slowly walks over to the sofa, gently sitting on it and placing a hand on your back. “Is it one of those small times again, darling?” You nod, your head peeking out for a moment. “I understand. You’ve been so stressed lately and barely had a break.”

“Been hard,” you mumble. “Don’t have much time for care.” The anxiety had taken an effect on your skin and body, with pimples from stress sprouting on your face and your back aching from hours spent bent over your laptop.

“I can tell, lovie. Would you like me to help you feel pretty again?” You nod in response, and Mettaton takes a pillow from the couch and places it on his lap. “Come here, let me braid your hair.” You ease into his touch, allowing his gloved fingers to ease the tension in your scalp and partition your hair. The motions are repetitive and controlled, allowing you to relax more and reduce the worries inside your head. “I understand if you don’t want to talk, darling. Would you like me to share some good news instead?” You reply with a happy hum. “Good!”

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The dwindling embers of the campfire illuminate the outline of Halsin’s simple tent, guiding you as you stumble out of yours and cling your plushie close. It was another nightmare, fueled by the fears of what would happen if you lost your protection from the Absolute. The anxiety made you default to a smaller headspace to cope, and you searched for your carer for assistance.

Halsin was tending to the plants that hung from the wooden beams of his tent so the heat from the morning sun wouldn’t dry them out. He greets you with a wave when you arrive. “How’s my little cub doing?” He examined the look on your face, his usually relaxed expression turning concerned. “Oh, dear. Things aren’t going well, I suppose.” You sniffle, as losing your will to speak was common for your regression. A chill blew through the air, causing you to shiver. “Ah, maybe my tent isn’t the best place for you to calm down. It might be too open to the elements for your tastes.” 

Halsin stands up, dusting the dirt off his hands. “Would you like me to carry you, little one?” You nod fervently, making grasping hands towards the druid. “Alright, up you go!” Halsin lifts you with a hup, holding you close to his chest as you curl in his arms. He strolls over to your tent, ducking under the flap and gently setting you down once you’re inside. When he does, you quickly get back into his lap, hugging him close. “There must be something truly wrong for you to seek this much comfort. Not that I’m opposed to it.” 

He pats your head, soothing your hiccups and silent cries. “Was it another nightmare?” You nod, burying your face in the soft, worn leather of his shirt. “It’s alright. I’m here now.”

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You sift through Mettaton’s walk-in closet, amazed at all the costumes and accessories he’s amassed over the years. “Is there something that catches your eye, beautiful?” The robot follows closely behind, able to reach the hangers above. 

You notice a floor-length pink gown adorned with a giant bow on the back. Your eyes light up with excitement, and you push the other outfits to the side to show it to your carer. “This one!” You bounce on your heels and are excited to try it on.

“Oh, that’s a great choice! Something from the older collection, but it’ll look perfect on you!” Mettaton takes the dress down and holds it up to you. “Anything else to go with it, darling?”

You dash over to where Mettaton keeps his boas and point to a white one made of ostrich feathers. “This too!”

Mettaton chuckles and takes it down for you as well. “Is that all?” You nod, wrapping the boa around your neck. “Don’t get too excited. We have to do your makeup too!” Mettaton helps you change from your MTT Brand robe into the dress, zipping it up in the back before placing a makeup cape around your neck. “Now, what do you want today?” He presses a button on the makeup case, and it opens with a hiss. 

You point at the pink eyeshadow palette and the mascara tucked in next to it. “Oh, that will look absolutely beautiful!” As the robot monster prepares his brushes, you kick your feet in the chair he took out for you. “Don’t move too much, dear. I don’t want to ruin your makeup or the dress.” You hum and still your legs, waiting patiently. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Mhm! Wanna look all pretty,” you chirp.

“Good!” Mettaton coos as he pats your head softly.

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Equius laid on the floor of one of the laboratories around the meteor the trolls were stranded on, his beloved moirail painting the walls nearby. Soon enough, he heard the pat-pat-pat of paws approaching.

EQUIUS: D --> Are you done with your painting, Nepeta

Nepeta nodded, flopped next to Equius, and began to purr. He coughed, preparing his role-playing voice. It wasn’t completely perfect, but it was suitable for the feline-like troll.

EQUIUS: D --> I inquire about what M%. Leijon intends to roleplay as

Nepeta shook their head but continued purring. They batted at where the blueblood’s hair pooled on the floor, like playing with a cat toy, but gentle enough not to cause pain.

EQUIUS: D --> Nepeta EQUIUS: D --> This seems more f00lish than your usual role-playing activities

The oliveblood shook their head once more, looking intently at their moirail.

EQUIUS: D --> So, you're not role-playing, then

Nepeta smiled and nodded, letting out an adorable meow.

EQUIUS: D --> Interesting EQUIUS: D --> Is this perhaps like when you've felt younger around me

Nepeta’s eyes lit up at Equius’s correct assumption, nodding enthusiastically and rubbing their head against his arm. He knew of their tendency to age regress, but regressing to a catlike state was a new sight.

EQUIUS: D --> I see EQUIUS: D --> If it makes you happy, then I'll allow it

Equius spotted a stray yarn ball near him and tossed it to Nepeta. Their pupils blew wide, and they began to teethe on it and throw it between their hands. Equius chuckled, dangling the unraveling string in front of their face. It drew the oliveblood’s attention, their ganderbulbs darting back and forth as the lilac string swayed. The oliveblood’s eyes focused, and they snatched the yarn strand between their claws. Nepeta meowed happily, gently chewing on it.

EQUIUS: D --> Be careful, Nepeta EQUIUS: D --> You don't want to swallow it

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Astarion drapes the final wool blanket over the two chairs you had propped up near the fireplace. “And… there! That should keep my little one all safe and warm.” He kisses your forehead and is about to sit down until you hand him a pile of pillows. “I almost forgot these! Thank you, love.” You help him form a cushioning pile underneath the blanket fort, a variety of tapestry, cotton, and dupioni silk fabrics illuminated by the nearby flames. “Wait a moment, darling. I’ll be right back.” 

You cozy up underneath the fort, taking a blanket not used for the structure. Astarion returns momentarily, holding a mug of hot chocolate out for you. “Cocoa!” You carefully take it from him, taking a careful sip. “Thanks, ‘Stars.”

The vampire chuckles and wipes the milk foam that has formed on your upper lip. “You’re very welcome, dear.” He nimbly gets underneath the blanket “roof” with you and pulls you into his lap. “It’s quite lovely to do this, especially during the winter. I don’t know why we didn’t think of this earlier, honestly.” Astarion sighs contentedly. “I get to keep warm by the fire, and you get the cuddles you desperately crave.” He gives you a tight hug, causing you to giggle. “Isn’t that right, little one?”

“Mhm! Cuddles are always nice.” You tilt your head back and look up at Astarion lovingly.

Astaron deftly retrieves the mug from your hands and puts it out of reach so his plan doesn’t cause any spills. “Then surely you wouldn’t mind if I did… this!” Astarion roughly tousles your hair, but not enough to cause harm, then moves his hands to tickle you. Your laughs fill the air, overshadowing the sound of the crackling fire. 

“‘Staaaaars!” He ceases once you’re all giggled out and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

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Your classroom was finally cleaned for the evening, with each toy and writing utensil neatly put away. As you were about to leave and lock the door, you couldn’t help but feel pulled towards the bookshelf in the corner. It hosted a variety of books by human and monster authors alike, and the golden binding of one of them caught your eye. You pulled it out and examined the cover. Well, no one else is around. It shouldn’t be too much of an issue if I give it a read.

You settled into the beanbag next to the bookshelf, opened the cover, and read the paragraphs underneath the illustrations to yourself. As you did, you found yourself easing into that younger mindset that you usually reserved for when you were home after you graded all the homework as a way to destress. You found yourself excited for each turn of the page, the childlike happiness comforting you.

The door to the classroom opens, and you hear soft, padded footsteps. “I am sorry to bother you, but I seem to have left my records in one of the classrooms.” Toriel, the principal and founder of the school you worked at, looks at you. You look back at her with wide eyes, not flinching out of your regression, as the Boss Monster was known for her motherly nature. Toriel stops for a moment as if her heart skipped a beat. She blinks twice, then moves to kneel next to you. “I- uh, see you have made yourself quite at home. Would you like me to read to you?” She catches herself. “I am sorry if this is too forward. You just reminded me of… someone.”

“I-It’s ok!” You shift in the beanbag, allowing for some space for Toriel. “You can read to me,” you smile.

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The usual bustle of the Lower City is silent, the moon illuminating the night sky as you and your companions try to rest for the evening. You, however, are unable to find comfort in your tent. Feeling small from the day’s activities and missing your carer’s comfort, you tiptoe across the cobblestone from your spot in the alley to Astarion’s, ready to cause some mischief. 

Your party had mutually agreed to finally take care of their hygiene needs, which were left unattended during most of the adventure, including dirty laundry. Astarion’s older camp clothes (you had bought him new ones from Facemaker’s Boutique as soon as you reached Baldur’s Gate) were hanging on a clothesline above his tent, already dry from the afternoon sun.

You giggle as you neared the rope above, the vampire’s worn shirt hanging just out of reach. “Almos’ thereeeee…” You stand on your tiptoes and tug the shirt hem, causing the clothespins holding it in place to spring off in separate directions. Your beloved carer’s shirt is in your hands, and the soft cotton and lingering scent of bergamot are blissfully comforting.

As you turn around, you blindly bump into something, or rather, someone. “What do we have here, my love?” Astarion stands over you, a loving smirk on his face. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you’ve learned to be quite a rouge." 

You hug the shirt close to your chest and pout. “‘S mine.”

“Is that true? Well, surely this must be my shirt, then.” He gestures to a shirt on your clothesline, a sage green top with dark brown leather accents.

“No! ‘S mine too.” You try to run over to protect your shirt, but Astarion blocks your way.

“Well, then, whatever shall I wear in the morning?” Your carer chuckles and hugs you close, kissing your forehead. “Make up your mind, little one.”

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