The pieces below all touch on themes of dolls & witches, abuse, neglect, abandoment, negative mental health, suicidal ideation. Not everything here is negative, but it is all sincere. Individual pieces will have their own content warnings if they step into 18+ territory, but don't forget where you're at.
And remember, it's just a silly little doll.
The kind of tool that sits in the back of the drawer. You kinda forget you have it until the rare occasion you need it. It's a little busted and requires some extra finesse to use. Each time you curse yourself for not replacing it, but it gets the job done. Then, back in the drawer it goes.
A doll is a gentle touch wiping away your tears and an arm around your shoulder when you're breaking down
A doll is a message just to ask how you're doing when you're alone
A doll is open ears and a lack of judgement when you feel like everyone hates you
A doll is patient because it knows you're doing your best
A doll is supportive
A doll is love
A doll is understanding
A doll is everything it never had
Look, this one appreciates the sentiment. Truly. That you even want to help means so much to it. But trying to convince this one that any being gets what it "deserves" is foolish.
If beings get what they deserve, you have decades to work through before this one can start to believe it deserves happiness. If that's even possible.
If they don't, then it's a meaningless statement and it doesn't matter what this one deserves.
It felt safe in the arms of its witch as it rested its head on her chest and listened. Her embrace shielded it from a hostile world. The sound of her breathing kept its own thoughts quiet. Every beat of her heart filled it with warmth.
She let out a relaxed sigh and held her doll in front of her. She couldn't help but smile. "So sweet."
It wasn't a sweet doll. It wasn't much of a doll, period. It was patchwork, pieced together from scraps salvaged from various dumpsters and curbsides. Every part of it, from its stuffing to the threads barely holding it together, was trash that had already outlived its usefulness.
Its witch loved it, though, as much as any doll, and cared for it just the same. It didn't understand why. There were more worthy dolls out there. It didn't know how to deal with feeling loved, either. It never had before, not really.
It didn't deserve her love. It tried proving that to her often, but it never worked.
She hummed an upbeat melody as she prepared its bed. She fluffed and set the pillows and pulled the blankets down. She double-checked that the blankets were layered just the way it needed before bringing it over.
It felt safe in the arms of its witch.
Her warmth stayed with it as she laid it in bed and pulled the blankets up to its chin. She smiled, gave it a kiss on its head, and walked to the door.
"Good night, sweet doll of mine," said its witch, turning the light off, "it is so wonderful."
It wasn't a sweet doll.
But it could be.
Because it was her doll.