" James was right. I am a softy. And I do try to see the best in people... but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. " — Dick Grayson as Batman. Detective Comics #881 ⠀ ⠀ Graceson, He / Him / It !! I’m a Minor!! My Agere/Petre + Mental health blog !! I’m a flip ! :D !! Neurodivergent !!
🗞️ : This is a SFW age regression blog !!!! If you don’t know what age regression is, feel free to click here !! [What is age regression? Rentry]
🗞️ : This is mostly focused on being a caregiver blog !! Though, me — the blog runner — is a flip, and may also post some stuff related to my regression as well !!
🗞️ : This blog welcomes …
• Any type of asks !! Random asks, Vent asks, just babbling asks, asking for advice, etc! I just love responding to all of them when it comes down to it !! (Psst!! Ur also welcomed to claim an anon emoji !!!!)
• And any kiddo, or big kid, or anti hero in my asks (or DMs!) is more than welcomed to call me Dad, Dada, Papa, Mister, etc, etc !! I just ADORE nicknames, any masc, object, or neutral caregiver terms are a - okay by me !!
• DMs! They’re always welcomed, and I love making new friends, especially ones in this community !! Seriously, don’t be shy !! <33 (though, I will note — I may not respond quickly, I assure you I am not ignoring you !! I just happen to be avoidant at times unfortunately. )
• REQUESTS !! I encourage requests, I love doing them !! And You can request mood boards, stim boards, pacifier edits, agere writing prompts, etc !! And if ur oomf,,, you can request agere writing snippets from fandoms I’m apart of,,,
📌 : I do post about weed / smoking / & addiction, same with topics of mental health, so, if you are uncomfortable with either thing, please block these tags off my blog: #Mr. Dada’s Drags… 🚬🍃 ( smoking ) #Mr. Dada Talks Mental Health! 🩹 ( Mental Health )
📨 : anon emojis claimed: 🐈⬛, 🍋
DNI, ABOUT ME & CREDITS UNDER THE CUT !!
Do not interact please:
📰 : Blogs exclusively dedicated to NSFT / NSFW. This includes ABDL & sexual age play. As long as you're a consenting adult, do what you want, but this blog is a safe place for sfw regression & coping. That being said, please keep that stuff away from my blog.
📰 : Transphobes & Homophobes, LGBT phobic, Anti neo pronouns, Anti Xeno genders, Anti other kin, anti-furry, anti-therian, obviously anti Age regression or Pet regression, Racists, fatphobes, sexists, Ableists. RCTA, MAPs, Radqueers.
📰 : Anyone who uses the R-slur (or just anyone who uses a slur they cannot reclaim), harmful paraphilias, Those who encourage people who have any harmful habit/disorder/mental health condition to get worse. (having vent accounts are okay! As long as you are not actively encouraging others to get worse with their own mental illness.)
About the blog runner !! :
🧺 : My name is Graceson!! Though, you are more than welcomed to call me by any of my kin / Synpath / Copinglink names !!
🧺 : My pronouns: He / Him, They / Them, It / It’s
🧺 : I am a Minor.
🧺 : I’m a Transgender male & Genderqueer + a Bisexual individual !!
🧺: I’m a neurodivergent person who struggles with mental illness issues, and other struggles with my neurodivergence.
🧺 : I'm a flip !! Both a caregiver and age regressor & age dreamer. Plus, a pet regressor / pet dreamer at times.
🧺 : When I age regress, I tend to regress young. (Infant though 5 years old, roughly.)
🧺 : I can struggle with tones sometimes over text, so I might read the context of something wrong, tone tags are appreciated !
🧺 : I can get very overprotective of pieces of media I am interested in, or any of my favorite characters sometimes. I can get fussy or cranky, BUT I'M VERY NICE... I SWEAR. Just let me know if I’m acting like that.🥹
🧺 : Some interests that I study, and love, are sociology, statistics, philosophy and psychology !!
🧺 : I don't mind babysitting at all if you dm and ask !! Though, I'm not currently interested in becoming a caregiver for someone I have no relationship or friendship to. I already have a couple of friends and others in which I care for when possible, which I love very dearly !
🧺 : My f/o list ! & My fandom list ! (To be added soon…)
! 🖍️ ! : If I post any Age regression fanfictions, I’ll cross post on here and my Ao3! [ao3 linked]
(My Ao3 is not completely safe for work, and it most likely never will be, so beware of that while visiting my account.)
My Tags!:
#Mr. Dada’s Reblogs! 📸 (For Reblogs !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Caregiver Rambles! 📝 (For any rambles or posts related to me being a caregiver !)
#Little Vamp’s Rambles… 🧸 (For whenever regressed me is talking / speaking on the blog !)
#Vamp's General Rambles! 🦇 (For whenever whatever I’m posting doesn’t necessarily fall under caregiver status, or regressed status. Just me !)
#Vamp's Affirmation Rambles! 🧺 (For my affirmation posts for reassurance and encouragement and whatnot !)
#Mr. Dada’s Asks! 🎥 (For all of the asks I receive on / from this blog !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Advice Asks! 📼 (For any asks where someone is asking for advice, or I end up giving advice !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Vent Asks… 📨 (For any asks where someone is venting in any capacity !! I do recommend blocking this tag if you would rather not see vents from others though !!)
#Mr. Dada Talks Mental Health! 🩹 (For any posts that have me directly talking, educating, or hinting at mental health related matters !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Requests… 📞 (For all of the requests I get !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Prompts! 🎞️ (For every prompt I post !! This doesn’t necessarily have to be a requested prompt, just any prompts I post !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Fanfics / Snippets! 📖 (For every fanfiction or snippet of a fanfiction / scenario I post !! I will also tag Headcanons under this tag !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Moodboards! 💾 (For any Moodboards I made / Make !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Stimboards! 💽 (For any Stimboards I made / Make !!)
#Mr. Dada’s Drags… 🚬🍃 (For any reblogs, direct posts, or mentions of mostly weed or other smoking substances !!)
Personal views of mine that aren't likely to be explicitly stated on the blog :
📖 : I do NOT support generative AI usage, and I dislike generative AI. Though I do realize how heavily addictive it is; I simply just encourage folks who are trying to stop using it for whatever reason that may be, to try and stop using it.
📖 : I support Palestine.
📖 : I am very anti-censorship. Though, I believe actions rightfully have their consequences for what someone decides to post or do on the internet or irl.
📖 : I believe the statement of don't like = don't read, same with don't like = don't interact. Or Don't like = block.
📖 : I don't support Trump at all.
Credit for the dividers I've used, linked: [Signal divider] [Plain Nightwing signal divider] [The Batman 2022 divider] All the rest are from / made by me , including the big graphic !!
Shout out to regressors who regress when drunk !!!
Shout out to regressors who regress on other substances !!!
And ESPECIALLY shout out to regressors who are in any type of recovery !!!!!!!!!
Every regressor deserves to be treated kindly and with respect, even the regressors who need / do certain things in order to regress aren’t typically associated with kid appropriate behavior.
Regressing is for everyone, and that includes those who participate in substances and other “adult” activities.
You’re sitting out in the backyard, indulging in what you thought would be easy to stop once started, but here you are. Your carer knows about it, but you still smoke in the same place because it… feels right.
The sun is setting, and as you take another drag from your cigarette; then you hear the back door open.
“ I saw you sitting out here alone, do you mind if I join you, kiddo?”
You feel your chest bubble up with feeling despite the smoke that clouds the warmth in your chest. It feels wrong to get called kiddo when you’re indulging in something like this, but you nod anyway.
“ The stars are real pretty, aren’t they?” They stay warm and normal with you, like they aren’t mad at the bad habit you still haven’t kicked. They turn their head to you;
“ What’s going on in that big brain of yours, baby?” They ask. Once again, kindly, but not prying; a genuine interest rather than disgust.
You feel the thick layer of saliva coat your mouth from each drag that bites away at you and your cigarette, and you find yourself speaking about what you’re thinking.
“ Oh baby, Oh, Hunny bun…” You hear those words fall from their lips, “ Now why would I be mad at you for this? Why would I be disgusted?”
You don’t know, you just assumed they would be. Despite their sugary sweet tone, you still brace for that rejection.
“ Baby, I’m not upset at you at all. You’re my baby, and you know what that means? That means, all of you — every part — is the baby I love and care for.”
“ You know how I see it from my perspective?“ You tilt your head in a wordless ask. “ I see my baby already struggling with that shame. Why would I add on to that? To make you suddenly quit from shame? That’s not the best approach, and I can say from experience.”
“ I think, no matter how bad the habit may be, it all deserves a loving approach. Even if some need a tough love approach.” You take a glance at your carer to see the most caring eyes. The ones that love you regardless of this.
“ And you especially still deserve to cope. Just because of the nature of this bad habit tends to be categorized as an adult one, doesn’t mean you have to stay an adult. You’ll still be my baby no matter how many cancer sticks you smoke.”
Your carer got up from where they were sitting, “ Wait here, I’m gonna come right back, kiddo.” They say, as they go inside, and a couple minutes later — true to their word — they come back with two blankets, a pillow, and you see your pacifier on the top of the stack.
“ C’mon down, baby. How about we just stay under the stars for a bit longer, okay? And you can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with, and I’ll listen. Does that sound good?”
They let an unused blanket sit on the ground as they sit down on top of it. Meanwhile, lazily draping the other blanket on top of themselves. And on the pillow they brought? It sits on the empty side of the blanket with your pacifier just resting on it.
Your carer just sits there, not forcing you to do anything, but letting that opportunity stay for when you feel ready to take it.
Just a little affirmation / reminder for everyone ,,,
Tw: Religious mentions !!
Religion is what you want or need to make out of it, and whatever you believe in, is between you and what you believe in !!
No matter if you struggle with your faith,
No matter if you mess up again and again,
No matter if you struggle with belief,
No matter if you forget to do something in the means of devotion for whoever you believe in,
No matter if you struggle with understanding your belief / faith,
No matter the things you’ve done in the past,
No matter the things you’ve gone through,
No matter how you exist in our world,
Your relationship, devotion, faith, and love is between you and whatever god, matter, or other thing you believe in !!
I promise you, you’re doing great. Do what you can, and for what you can’t do, that’s okay. The gods, extra terrestrial beings, matter, etc, cares about the comfort, peace, and happiness that you get out of them. So, do what makes you feel good.
Your regression or your baby’s regression, is yours. Those moments aren’t supposed to stick to a fine pint, there aren’t any rules to regression, it’s whatever you need from it.
Something you or your regressor may need is something that you need. That doesn’t mean that thing needs to be understood by others. That doesn’t mean that thing has to be liked or enjoyed by others. That thing doesn’t have to fit some mold, because your regression is supposed to fit you.
Trauma, stress, and other environmental, situational, psychological, and physical factors can and will impact parts of your regression, and that’s okay. Coping, healing, recovery or resolving stress isn’t pretty, or convenient at times, and that’s okay.
It’s okay to not be understood, or to have behaviors that won’t be understood by many. It’s okay to confuse people, it’s okay to even have people judge something you may do, because they haven’t lived in your place, you have; and whatever can keep you living in that place, and hopefully help you, or make you happy, is all that matters.
I freaking love Bitsy as a character, and now as my GIRLFRIEND (WE LOVE YUMESHIPPING IN THIS HOUSE!!) and fictional caregiver, and she’s just been getting me through some nerves, and hard times.
I made a bracelet of her that I’ve been wearing to all the big, scary, important times and I’ve been wearing the bracelet during some rough, depressing times; to remind me that she would probably distract me from those thoughts, or figure out how to make me feel even a little bit better in her way.
But yeah, I love my wife & my mama :,D
(ALSO! THE ART OF BITSY IN THE MIDDLE IS FROM gravitydusty ON INSTAGRAM !)
IMAGE DESCRIPTION UNDER THE CUT !!
Image Description; A moodboard in a 3 by 3 grid format. The first image, is some white fur. The second image is a person whisking some white stuff in a bowl, on a countertop.. The third image, on the top, and right, is a yellow dress with some frills, flowers, and white incorporated in it. The first image on the second row of the mood board is, a wooden basket filled with purple and yellow flowers. The second image, is a drawing of Bitsy. The third image is a person in a rocking chair, knitting something with a ball of yarn in their lap. The first image of the last row is a blue skirt with frills and white lace. The second image is a person making cookies and shaping the cookies with a cookie cutter. The third image, is a close up of a white mouse’s nose and mouth. End of ID.
“ Awh, sugar, it’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay. I promise.”
She combed through my greasy hair that hasn’t been washed in days, weeks even — her gentle gaze examining my teeth; she didn’t even look mad in the slightest.
“ No, no baby, it’s not your fault, you don’t know how to do that stuff, you can’t help that.”
I didn’t understand how she never did look at me disgusted despite how I ended up reverting back to not knowing my basic fundamentals when it came to hygiene when I regressed or in a depressive episode.
“ C’mere, baby. Oh, hush up, all I see is my precious baby boy, and if he happens to be a little ‘dirty’, that’s fine too. Ain’t stoppin’ me from loving you to death.”
She guided me to the bathroom, the kindness in her eyes as she helped me brush my teeth, reminding me there’s separate bottles for shampoo, conditioner, body lotion and body wash. I couldn’t help but feel shocked like it was the first time she was teaching me this.
Underneath the regression, the shame I felt for not being able to comprehend hygiene embarrassed me. This happened to be one of the better days of hygiene knowledge, where I still knew my hygiene related to use the bathroom, and others.
Despite that, I see nothing but love and patience in her eyes as she re-teaches me again, and again. Not absent. Not frustrated or annoyed she had to educate me on this, no, kind.
Even when I have the breakdowns from being overwhelmed from all the new information, The old, kid me, who is too scared to learn all of this stuff — she still holds me. Loves me, and talks to me.
“ Oh dear, baby, it’s okay. Look at me, it’s okay. Sshhh, it’s okay; You don’t have to understand all that new stuff.”
She said, referring to the overwhelming idea my little mind couldn’t comprehend; using different bottles for shower needs.
“ Listen sweetpea, you don’t need to shower or bathe today either, okay? Mhm, are you feeling alright enough to use the wipes? Then, are you comfortable with using those to clean you tonight? Mhm? Well, then, thats still getting you clean, and it’s still progress, my sweet boy. I’m proud of you.”
While I sit still in her arms, tears drying on my cheeks, clothes reeking of cigarettes and weed, the reek I’ve been wearing since I was three, and yet, she still loves me.
“Oh Baby, shhhh, shhh, sweetpea, listen to me for a second here, I’m not mad. I’m not mad at you at all, relapses happen.”
“shhh, I know, I know. But right now, you can’t handle that big kid conversation. We can have the important big kid conversation tomorrow, kiddo, okay?”
“alright, lovebug. Now, can you take my hand? Are you comfortable with that? Alright, that’s okay! Just come with me, darling. I just gotta clean the cuts / clean out your nose / make sure everything’s alright, okay? Thank you, kiddo. You’re being so, so brave for me.”
“Again, I’m not mad, my dear. Relapses happen, and it’s okay. For now, just let yourself slip into that tiny mindset, okay? Mhm, I’ll take care of the rest. We’ll cuddle, and rest until tomorrow, and I can help you as much as I can with the urges.”
“Then, whenever you’re ready, we can have a big kid conversation about this, alright? And you can stop or pause it at anytime. Alright, hun, let’s go ahead and clean this. Together.”
Here’s a little snippet of a fanfiction I’m making about very high, Involuntary age regressor Robert Robertson & Older brother cg, Chase :D
The snippet is under the cut :3
Warning for cursing, angst, panic attack(?) / greening out !!
And the sensitive feeling just kept coming back; getting in his head.
He missed his dad.
Fuck.
He really missed his dad.
He really missed the times where he adored Mecha Man. Adored knowing his dad was the good guy.
Adored knowing his dad was the super cool hero everyone knew, even if he couldn’t brag about it to his friends.
Adored knowing his dad wasn’t just abandoning him, he was just busy.
All parents get busy.
A lot of parents can’t make it to their kids school events.
At least his dad was doing something good and saving lives.
Robert didn’t need coddling, it’s not like he had any extreme traumatic experiences as a kid, and he was mature for his age.
He didn’t need coddling.
His dad was a busy guy, doing great things while juggling other relationships and responsibilities in his life.
He didn’t need coddling.
Robert always had a roof over his head with plenty of food in the house, and he got pretty average grades in school.
He didn’t need coddling.
He didn’t get disappointed and cry in his room everytime his dad would end up needing to go out during a holiday again.
Robert didn’t need coddling.
He wanted it though.
He wants to be coddled.
Robert once again didn’t remember when beef started licking at his face, looking concerned that Robert was crying.
Oh, yeah.
He was crying now.
Over something so stupid.
But once again, being stupidly high didn’t help any problems. If anything, it did nothing but amplify those problems, and bring out sub-conscious issues he had purposefully avoided knowing about.
Because the loneliness he’s so used to from his own self sabotaging just stung worse.
The buried root and reason of his self sabotaging isolation rising to the top of the wound and leaking out in the form of his currently incoherent mind.
He just wanted his dad.
A dad.
Someone.
Anyone really, just a parental figure.
He needed that really bad right now.
He wanted them just to hold him and tell him everything is going to be alright.
Even if he doesn’t believe it.
Even if he’s fussy about it.
He just wants someone to be there.
Robert open palm wiped his face messily. He’s just a stupid cry baby. Stupid— stupid cry baby.
And Beef just stuck by Robert’s side, hopping up and down with small jumps and paws at Robert’s chest and arms, trying to get Robert’s full attention in order to calm him down.
Robert didn’t care how long he and Beef sat like that, in the silence of his apartment, while he sobbed like a baby.
That is, until the door opened, with a couple of thuds, and a guy already calling out for him.
“Robert— help me with the door you fuckin’ prick, I brought some groceries since your ass can’t seem to get out of this psychiatric ward ass apartment—“
Robert didn’t want to think about whose voice that was. Who that was, not like his brain would even let him while like this.
Beef had already ran to Chase excitedly, meanwhile Robert decided then and there to book it.
And by “book it” that meant standing up, immediately falling down, and just relying on crawling fast on the floor to his room.
Robert closed his eyes half way there, feeling too nauseous already; His head spinning.
All that mattered was hiding right now.
He ignored the yelling for him from that man, and just crawled into his own closet and closed it.
Robert then followed that action up with immediately pulling his knees up to his chest, hugging his legs tightly to his chest.
Cover the chest.
Cover the chest.
Cover the chest.
Cover the chest.
Robert repeated that over and over in his head, he needed to protect his chest.
He wasn’t even in the suit.
He couldn’t die if he’s not in the suit.
Daddy would be so disappointed.
Everyone has died in the suit, he also needs to die in the suit.
Robert felt his heart thumping against the inside of his chest.
He felt his heart thumping in his ears.
And his thighs.
And his head.
“I’m—“
Robert just let out a too loud sob at hearing his own voice.
His deep voice.
Right, he’s a grown man.
A grown man crying in his closet.
A grown man just wanting to get held by his daddy again.
“Kid? Hey, kid, I knew you weren’t the straightest, but this is by far the weirdest fuckin’ way of coming out to me, by making me open the closet—“
Chase paused himself from speaking any further once he slid the closet door open to see Robert unmistakably the most shaken up Chase has seen him in a while.
Yeah, Chase was a hero and used to talking nice to a victim while trying to calm them down, but… fuck.
This was Robert.
The Robert he used to babysit for.
The Robert who he’s known he could’ve done so much more to be there for him during the time after his father passed.
The Robert he didn’t have the full capacity to admit how much he really, fully means to him.
And Chase just, stayed.
Frozen.
Paused.
Standing there.
Not letting himself cope with humor, rather just being forced to automatically process this and think fast.
This is a direct opportunity to make up for the times he wasn’t there.
But instead of being fast to help somebody — Robert of all people — like he always has, he just… stood there.
That is, until Robert accidentally threw up from what looked like fear and paranoia.
That was when Chase was finally able to crouch down, (as much as he could manage nowadays with his back.)
“Robe—“ Chase stopped himself. He didn’t know why, he just felt like that name didn’t belong in the situation at the moment despite it quite literally being Robert’s name.
“Kid,” Chase corrected, “It’s okay— just, maybe step out of the closet if ya’ can so I can try and clean this real quick?”
Robert stayed silent. The man seemed to know him, and also seemed to soften his tone when Robert was seen how he is right now.
“Don’t…” Robert’s mouth felt so dry, same with the air. And the closet just seemed more crowded from the man asking Robert to get out of it.
“Dad said—“ Robert struggled to get his words out, finding a problem in every word.
Like how his mouth said dad. Dad felt too grown up, his daddy wasn’t his dad yet, that’s for big kids to call their parents and he didn’t want that.
His dad cared for him the most when he was really little, if he called daddy, dad, then he’d think Robert didn’t need him anymore and he was too grown up…
“I can’t go with strangers…” Robert ended up pushing out of his lips.
Which, Chase played along and decided it wasn’t the time to ask or pry with questions.
“Might not look like it, but I’m Trackstar, kid. I get called Chase.”
There’s something healing about being a fussy regressor after being a perfectionist child. You don’t have to be on your best behavior to be loved. You can kick your feet and pout and cry and your cg won’t be mad.
Imagine having a very no good day and throwing the biggest tantrum after holding in all your “bad” emotions for a long time. You expect your caregiver to get angry, punish you or leave you to cry, but they just sit with you as you throw your tantrum and when you’ve tired yourself out, they pick you up and coo softly over how fussy you are today.
Maybe you get a timeout, or have to write lines, or have your screen time limited, but only after they’ve made sure you got all your big feelings out in the open because your wellbeing is so much more important than anything else.
