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Age Regression - Blog Posts
CASSIUS or Cass, Cash — 17yrz. / O7-14 reg. ( middle regressor ) age reg not shared online, only age dreaming. ☆ therian, otherkin, fictionkin : 🌲 autistic / developmentally disabled. ∞ ‘flip’ big brother. moodboard and fic writer.
— 🧦 : he/it. no they/them. agender, masculine leaning, boy-masc terms. fem compliments okay, ex: ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’. no fem terms, ex: ‘girl’.
— ⚔️ : Do Not Interact AgeRe purists, will police my page, if you are regressed while online. (i may curse on my page or post big-kid interests and i do not want to trigger anyone. if you feel you will be fine, feel free to follow anyway.) i am not anti kink. i block freely. i do not vague post.
saying goodbye to your older sib going off to college … bittersweet AgeReg story
“So.. you’re not.. coming back?” You ask, watching wearily as your sibling packs their final suitcase.
“I am. Don’t worry, kid, I’ll be back on holidays. It’ll be fine. You’re brave, aren’t you?” They ruffle your hair and pinch at your cheek, trying their best to reassure but ultimately failing to soothe.
“I’m going to miss you.” You choke out, feeling the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes. Your sibling exhales at the sight.
They cup your face. “If you start crying, I’ll start crying. We have to be strong for each other, kiddo. Can you do that for me? Can you be strong for me?”
“Why can’t I come with you?” You ask, allowing yourself to let loose a few tears. Your sibling sighs. Fear washes over you. How can you live without them?
Laughing, they rub your cheek. “You know the answer to that question, hon. You’re way too little to come with me. They don’t have kid classes in college, not that I know of.”
You cling to them, rub your cheek against their chest. “Please visit as much as you can. You will, won’t you? Won’t you?”
Hesitating, your sibling smiles. “Of course. I’ll visit next week, tell you how things are going. You can visit me, too. Promise to come visit me?”
Your eyes light up. “I’ll visit. I promise.”
“And you can sleepover. And we can watch movies together, and hit up the diner, and go shopping… on a budget.” You both laugh at the last part.
“I’m going to miss you too, little kid. I’m gonna miss you a whole lot.” Your sibling pulls you close, a tight hug.
“you’ll always be my best friend.” you finally say, melting into them.
𐔌 PNGS : blueish misc baby items ⟡˖
𐔌 PNGS : green baby clothes ⟡˖
to be a kid again, reading comic books, watching cartoons. big bowl of cereal. relive my childhood as a boy. toy cars, trucks, legos, figurines. a brother that i pester frequently but we are best friends. yearrnnn
unconventional caregivers, you’re seen. caregivers that curse, caregivers that aren’t parental and more so sibling coded, caregivers that can’t be full time, caregivers that want to be full time, caregivers that help with medical issues and not so much regression issues— you’re seen. your work is appreciated!
Hello! Reminder that moodboard requests / suggestions are open and im more than happy to make you something! you can do an emoji combo or give me an aesthetic name, character, etc.
sleepover with your sibling … ⋆˙⟡
joel finds you out in the cold. your parents haven’t returned from a supply run. you’re alone and scared— so he takes you back to his camp.
Joel slings his backpack over his shoulder and forces himself forward. He knows that stopping to rest now is essential if he plans on getting home, even if he so desperately wants to keep pace and make it there within the next hour. Logic wins. He pulls himself down and rests his fist under his chin.
A shuffle grabs his attention. He immediately pulls his gun, his eyes darting frantically, scanning for a threat. He lowers his weapon once the ‘threat’ enters his vision. A small kid, can’t be above 10. Shivering, clutching a dirty stuffed bear to their chest. You look terrified— rightfully so. With the world you live in now, it would be strange if you weren’t terrified. Joel approaches you slowly. Puts his gun away to show you he means no harm.
“Hey.. you, kid, under the porch. I ain’t gonna hurt ‘ya.” He crouches and offers his hand to you. You’re timid, untrusting. He understands, he’d probably have taught you to be untrusting too if he was your parent. He rolls a water bottle under the crack. You roll it back over his way.
“I promise it’s safe. Watch.” He takes a waterfall from the bottle. Showing you he didn’t do anything to the drink. Rolls it back to you. This time you accept it, gulping it down quickly. You were dehydrated. You haven’t left this spot since yesterday.
“Thank you..” you mutter, still afraid. Joel has a warm aura. You decide that maybe you can trust him. Maybe.
“Yeah. Come out from under there, kid. It’s ’bout to be night time. Don’t want a clicker to get ‘ya. I’ll keep you safe, bud.” He gives you his hand again. You take it. After pulling you out from under the porch he throws his jacket over you, not wanting you to freeze to death on the way home.
“I have a camp. Lots of food. Good things. You’ll like it. Other kids your age. You can play… whatever kids your age do. Learn to shoot, too, if you want. I teach that course.” You shrug. You aren’t sure what you want yet. You just want a warm bed, and to know that your parents are okay. “What were you doing under there anyway?” You both start the journey back to camp.
“Waitin’ for mama and papa.” Your voice cracks as you say it. Joel sighs.
“I’m sorry about that, kiddo. Really damn sorry.” He rubs the back of your head, trying to soothe the hurt, though he knows nothing could repair that wound. He’s lost a daughter before, he imagines it feels just like that, but reversed. Having to lose both your parents.
Hours pass and you’re nearing the camp. Joel can see how sleepy you are. He chuckles. Kids always look cute when they’re tired. “Think you can make it, kid?” You’re barely awake. You give him half a nod. He shakes his head.
“Listen, I can carry ‘ya. I don’t mind. I don’t bite, swear.” You blink, thinking it over. Drowsiness takes over and you reach for Joel. If he wanted to hurt you, he probably would have already. “Good. Good. C’mere, kiddo.” He reaches and pulls you up into his arms, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “Sweet dreams. When you wake up you’ll be in a warm bed. Safe. I’ll pull some strings and get ‘ya some candy, too. A welcome home gift.”
You’re too tired to react. All you do is yawn and nod, letting the sleep overpower you and finally, it consumes you.
hey— you— yes, you— you’re allowed to curse when you’re regressed. you’re allowed to be angry. be sad. not want to be touched. not want to be around anyone but yourself. regression is a scary thing, it’s a trauma response, it’s a medical symptom— it’s a bunch of things. and it can be scary. how you act when regressed is not a reflection of you being a ‘bad’ person but more so a reflection of the wrong you have suffered at the hands of others and the trauma that you’ve survived. im proud of you. your regression doesn’t have to be fun. for some of us, it isn’t. sometimes it’s just scary. sometimes it comes when you’re walking home in the rain and you’re scared and wet and all you want is to get under your blankets and fall asleep but your house is blocks away and walking feels heavy. it’s okay. it’s okay. i promise.
kiddo that’s just trying to find any way to make cleaning more fun; bringing their dinosaurs along with them. come now, friends, before mama and papa get home, we have to brush our teeth and clean our room! really, we should have been finished hours ago… but it’s not our fault! we got lost watching tv! now, we’ve only got… 15 minutes! we can make it!
— fort build with your big sib
together you slowly build the fort. pillows, blankets, bed sheets. you fight over who gets to hang the final blanket but ultimately you decide lil sib should place it. lil sib is overjoyed and jumps around, giggling, grinning. big sib hums and runs to the kitchen to get snacks prepared. mom and dad are gone for an hour, we get the house to ourselves! no babysitter for us, big sib promised mama and papa that they were big enough to watch over lil sib. mama and papa decided that an hour wouldn’t be too bad.
big sib arrives back into their room with a plate of cookies, popcorn, crackers, pepperoni slices and other miscellaneous foods. lil sib gasps and takes a big handful of crackers. “ive got the tv ready, bubs! come on! i put on the elf movie!” big sib places the big plate inside their fort and gets settled in.
“bubs, where’s teddy?” lil sib whines. “right here, bubbie! see?” big sib hands the teddy to lil sib. a big grin appears on their face. yawns come from both of them, tired kids exhausted after a long fun day.
mama and papa come home to find their kiddos cuddled up inside a giant fort, crumbs all over their faces, holding hands. the elf movie dvd has stopped playing and is now just stuck on the ‘start’ page. they sigh. “did they eat all of the gummies?” mama asks, a chuckle leaving her as she looks down at her babies. “i think they did. it’s okay, at least they had fun, right?” papa smiles and carries the biggest off to bed, while mama cradles the littlest and follows right behind him.
shoutout to the age regressors that aren’t ‘little’. tweens i see you. teens i see you. young adults i see you. all big kids, i see you. your regression is just as valid as anyone else’s.
regressors with ‘scary’ theriotypes, i see you. wolves, tigers, lions, bears, coyotes— all of you. you are important. your experiences matter so much.
regressors that get mean when they regress, because it is a trauma response, you’re seen. you deserve kindness and gentle hands when you’re 3 and want to color, and also when you’re 8 and have growing pains, and also when you’re 12 and are starting to see yourself and form an identity and needing an adult more than ever to guide you and help your insecurities. to aid you and show you the right path.
regressors that were always torn down for showing emotions when they were younger so now you’re stuck at 10 and all you can do is cry and scream, beg for a hug and then pull away because of how scared you are.
regressors that feel like they’ll always be 13, scared, hurt, betrayed in their heart. waiting for someone to heal the inner child’s wound, because you feel like you can’t, because you’re still just 13 yourself.