Hallo! Im Ollie/Foddy -- she/he/they -- I'm 24 years old -- i age regress to 5-12ish -- i have a lot of trouble identifying my age when im little/middle haha ~~~ (~￣³￣)~
Age regressor Grace who secretly loved the idea of Rocky watching him sleep because he's been alone for so long and if he presents hard enough he can imagine Rocky reading him a story, or narrating whatever little project keeps his slaws busy. He's always tinkering with something.
Rocky who notices that Grace, in his sleep, presses his quilt to him mouth, and at first Rocky perceives this as unconscious hunger. And he could be right.
But, when he decides to search more into this human sleeping habit, he is met with human pebbles. 'This isn't right. Grace is not a pebble.' He thinks, feeling frustrated. The human thinking machine is tricky, he realizes.
This, of course, leads him down the rabbit hole of age regression. 'Perhaps it's involuntary, since he is sleeping. Will have to ask difference.' Rocky thinks, noting a lot of things that could probably help his human friend.
"It helps calm and destress people, a safe and effective way to cope with anything, most commonly are from everyday stress to trauma. There's no correct way to regress, as everyone is differently unique."
He reads article after article, fully intended to bring it Graces attention, as he already takes care of his human friend along with Armando, for the handy work. No pun intended.
When Grace wakes up, Rocky is still watching, though working on something new.
"Good morning." Graces voice is groggy, and he's still lying down, watching through the wall as his buddy tinkers. "What are you working on?"
Rocky moves his body contemplatively, as if choosing his words.
"New project for Grace. Did lots of research while sleeping." He explains, quite obviously vague.
"Oh? What is it?" Grace asks, catching on quickly that it's something the other might want to hide.
"Mouth soother, for adults. Look on human thinking machine about oral fixation in sleep. You are using your quilt subconsciously in your sleep, this can lead to protection choking or asphyxiation. Am making item to help prevent, since I cannot come over just yet."
Grace blinked at him, surprised and intrigued.
That was a lot of information at once. A soother? For adults?
"Like a pacifier?"
"Need word."
"Pacifier? It's a soother typically made for babies and children, to soothe and help their teeth grow in." Grace explained with a little shake of his head. "You're making a pacifier?"
"Yes, will be right size for Graces mouth. Measured myself, will help." Rocky says this with confidence, which makes something in Grace shine.
Part of him feels like he ought to argue, defend himself, even fight and deny it, but he when he turns his head towards anger it feels... lackluster. Not the way anger can feel good, this felt icky.
That promise that sweet headspace promised was nipping at his heels. Tempting indeed.
Grace takes a deep breath and sighs.
"Wow... uhm.. thank you. Rocky." He coughs, clearing his throat as his face flushes. It feels embarrassing to suddenly exist, and he wants nothing more than to hide.
"You are welcome. Will be done soon."
He stares and stares at Rocky until Mary quite loudly announces it's time for breakfast.
"Up time." Rocky announces, getting into his ball and leaving the station. It makes Grace a little sad. Rocky must notice this because he makes a reassuring song.
"Will finish before next scheduled meal, I am quick worker. Come," He's rolling his ball into Graces knees.
some project hail mary bits, copy-pasted from discord. no wetting but there is a conversation that alludes to using diapers thumbup
//
He's not sure why they let him have these.
Maybe the whole forcing him out of his home with no warning and making him live on a boat for the foreseeable future thing- that's gotta be something. Or they think he's a weirdo and just wanna keep him happy so he'll keep working. Either way, he's grateful. They even got him a 3 pack- three adult-sized pacifiers lined up neatly in plastic packaging atop the dumb science-pun shirts he requested and the NASA branded sweatpants. They even match the project's logo- orange, black, and light blue.
Stratt's the first person to see him use one, barging into his room when he overslept, nearly startling him off of his shelf- he caught himself, thankfully, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and mumbling around the soother that he'd be right down. She hadn't batted an eye. She's probably the one who got them, then.
//
There's pacifiers in his mission bag. Weird.
//
In the mess of suddenly having a roommate, Rocky finds his pacifiers.
"What this, question?" it taps, pointing at the offending blue object, now awkwardly crushed and skewed to one side after being rolled over.
"Oh that's- don't worry about that," Grace scoops it off the floor, frowning as he tries to slot its pieces back into place, "it's not like, mission important."
Rocky nods and moves on.
//
"That one is different."
Grace startles, hooking his finger on the loop of the orange soother in his mouth.
"Have more, question?"
"Uhh," he doesn't want to take it out of his mouth, but Rocky might not understand if he doesn't, and he really doesn't want to have to explain this more than once. He reluctantly pulls it out and wipes it on his shirt, "yeah, three. Well, two now, since you ran one over, but- yeah."
"You said was not mission important."
"Well, no, but it's me important, so."
"Is what, question?"
"S'a soother," he says, shrugging, embarrassed despite the fact that
Rocky has no clue that he's technically too old for this stuff, "pacifier, whatever. It's nice to suck on."
Rocky considers this- says something in his rock language, then, "need word, need word."
Grace sighs and gets his laptop.
"You are upset question?"
"Not at all buddy," Grace answers, shooting it a smile, "let's figure this out."
//
"Grace?"
He sniffles, rolling over to see Rocky standing over him.
"You are awake question?"
"Yeah," he answers, "I'm awake."
"You need soother question?"
He sort of regrets making that Rocky's word for it. Somehow it's more embarrassing than just calling it a pacifier.
He's bundled up and warm, for once. He would like his soother but he doesn't want to get up.
"Can you get it for me?" he asks, already knowing and childishly dreading the answer.
"Can not," Rocky answers. The robotic voice is as even as ever, but Rocky's tone is slightly gentler. "Rocky is sorry."
// (diaper cw)
He spots her across the dining room, dipping in and out for a meal and two coffees that are already set aside for her. One blink and he missed it- she's already heading back into the hallway. He stumbles out of his seat, (rather un-gracefully. Haha), and practically jogs to catch up.
"Stratt-" he calls, waves even though she doesn't turn around "-Stratt, do you have a minute?"
"I am very busy, Dr Grace," she answers briskly, "I will have time for you in three hours."
"Okay," he says, "I don't- I don't need an entire meeting, I just need a minute."
She stops and turns to face him. A scientist passes them in one direction, a team of builders passes them in the other- a tight squeeze in the hallway. Stratt checks her watch and sips her coffee.
"You have two minutes."
She looks at him expectantly. He clears his throat and glances behind him.
"Could we slip into a side room or something I don't want to have this conversation in the hallway," he chuckles awkwardly.
"Privately?" she asks, and at his nod, shakes her head, "I'm afraid every room on this vessel is occupied, this is as private as we can get."
"Right, right, okay," He puts his hands on his hips, looks to the ceiling, then the wall, then the opposite corner of the floor to avoid eye contact. Drops his arms to his sides when an engineer nudges past.
He sighs, "Okay."
He leans in as much as he dares and lowers his voice, "if you're going to make me wear- them-" he gestures vaguely, hoping she'll know what he's talking about without him having to say it "-could you deliver them a little more privately than just leaving them on my cot?"
Stratt's face does not change, though he's sure his is stained pink. She lowers her voice as well and answers, "Dr Grace, do you think you are the only person aboard this vessel with stress induced incontinence?"
He clears his throat. Resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and ends up pinching the bridge of his nose, so halfway there. His face burns and he sighs through his nose.
He knows a few of the symptoms, and the odds if it developing. Drops his hand. "No, probably not."
"We have a bulk supply for nearly a third of the population of this ship. No one will make fun of you," she assures him, "but yes, I will request that the deliveries are made privately."
He bites his bottom lip, face still burning, and nods after a second.
"Thank you."
"Is that all?"
He nods, offers a tight-lipped smile, "yeah- yeah, that's all."
She returns the nod and turns away, "have a good day, Dr Grace."
Just a pretty standard Minecraft base if I’m being honest
Here’s some other angles of the outside. I haven’t gotten around to putting vines all over it or making the staircase to the roof look better so the other sides look a little plain.
I like the view from the roof and the windows though.
The broken portal nearby looks cool at night in my opinion.
yello fellow froggy :] if ur doing the outfit ask game then maybe somebody in A2 ? maybe a canary jimmy or whoever you’d like! - @froggymarsh
This took AAAAAGES bc when i reblogged that ages ago i didnt think i would get any asks 😅😅 sorry about that! I hope ya like it! I gave him a paci bc everyone deserves a paci but theres a version without too.
And a speedpaint! (I eyedropped the colors thata why they match)
[DNI Banner says: SFW interaction only! DNI if: nsfw/kink, ddlg/variants, anti-lgbtq+, anti endo]
inspired/based off minecraft mobs (specific ones listed by the outfits) with help from the awesome ideas of @froggymarsh + @dragon-queen21 !
⛏️How to use!
- choose a character and an outfit, and send it to the person who reblogged!
- if you reblog it from someone else, consider sending them a pick to help everyone share in the fun! have a good time!
- feel free to add pacifiers, diaps, ect! it's your art- have fun with it :)!
haters will say shades dont belong in your mouth but dont listen to them theyre your shades u can do whatever u want forever. chew on the shades. there will surely be no repercussions
It's a bit of a frenzy, having this many regressed hermits at once. Tango keeps pounding on the table with his fork, singing loud, off-tune songs and flicking his tail while Gem covers her ears and complains just as loudly. Zed is dozing, (somehow), and Grian and Mumbo are coloring, chattering about their bases, snails, pictures, magic- anything really.
It's a lot. Impulse called Skizz and Joel in as backup, and they're on their way.
They can't get here fast enough.
"Tango, Gem, stop shouting, please," he calls over them, but neither of them can hear him, so it's a bit of a futile effort. He stirs the mac n cheese as there's a whirlwind of feathers behind him, as Grian appears and thrusts a drawing up at him.
"Oh very pretty," he praises, and he doesn't have a hand to take it with but it ends up in his arms anyway. He leans away from the pot so it doesn't fall in, "want to pick a magnet and put it on the fridge?"
Grian takes his drawing back, (thankfully), and the scream-singing pauses as a voice calls out, "'ello kiddos, is Impulse about?"
"Back here, Joel!" he calls. Joel walks through the door a few moments later, the singing starting back up behind him.
"A bunch of kids at a sushi bar," he grins, "that's somethin' you don't see every day."
"I don't really have sitting space anywhere else," Impulse laughs, "do you mind dealing with Tango? These'll be ready in about five minutes."
"Giving me the hardest job! Typical," Joel scoffs, but there's no bite to it as he wanders back out to the bar area. He shouts "hey!" and suddenly Tango is quiet, (a blissful relief), and Impulse listens as he explains the rules to a simple attention game- a marble beneath a bowl that he shuffles around with two other bowls- and soon the kids' squealing and laughter filters through the door, and Impulse's shoulders drop with a sigh.
He isn't usually so wound up. He's handled more kids than this before. He doesn't know what's different- and if he's regressing then it's never been like this, like someone's made a wasps nest out of his head and it's all buzzing buzzing buzzing-
"Hey hey hey!" comes a new voice as Impulse opens the oven just a touch to check on the chicken nuggets, "I'm not too late to join the party, am I?"
The kids cheer for Skizz and Joel complains, (fond and joking), about how nobody'd made this much of a fuss when he got here, and he and Skizz fall into silly banter while the kids laugh. Impulse smiles to himself, turning off the oven and the burner, gathering up enough hot pads to take everything outside with.
"Who wants mac and cheese?" Impulse calls, and the kids cheer. Skizz ruffles his hair, taking hot pads when Impulse extends his elbow just so. He drops them on the counter and Impulse sets the pot down.
"How are you holding up, dop?" Skizz asks, leaning close, "sorry I was late."
"Fine," Impulse answers, hoping it doesn't come out sounding as tired as he feels, "there's chicken nuggets in the oven, would one of you-?"
"I'm on it," Joel says, and disappears around the corner.
"I'll get bowls," Skizz says, and reaches to the cupboard above him to do just that. He gets five bowls, passing them to Impulse one by one. Impulse fills them with pasta, and when Joel comes back with the tray of chicken nuggets, five nuggets each.
Skizz serves them like a chef, each with a flourish and a silly voice. Tango snatches up his spoon, as does Grian, and Zed needs to be nudged awake by Joel to take his. Mumbo and Gem both say thank you- Mumbo a little quiet, Gem a little loud.
"You're very welcome, Gemmy and Mumbles," Skizz ruffles both their hair. Gem sticks out her tongue.
Impulse laughs, and gets a bowl for Joel, (at his request). He's distracted when Skizz calls out to him again.
"Hey dop, will you come here a sec?"
"Yeah!"
He passes off Joel's food and hurries over, "what's up?"
"Stand in front of me," Skizz gestures.
Impulse raises an eyebrow, and does just that, "okay?"
Skizz smiles, "ready?"
"For wha-"
Then Skizz crouches just a bit, just enough to lift him and place him down again. Into a high chair.
Impulse completely forgot that he pulled it out.
He freezes, gripping Skizz's arm as he reaches around Impulse, pulling the belt straps around and clicking them into place. The tray comes after it. Then Skizz steps back, nodding at his handiwork. Joel stares. The kids stare. There isn't silence, but there's something meaningful, something different. They stop staring but there's something different about it. Something scary.
The buzzing is back. Impulse tenses up all over.
Then he's scrambling to get out, easily snapping the tray out of place and dropping it on the floor. He unbuckles himself, slips out of the chair and stands. He doesn't say anything to Skizz, retreating into the kitchen and breathing heavy for a bit.
What was that?
He's never been put in a high chair before. Some of the other hermits like using them- mostly Scar and Ren, but everyone's dabbled in it.
Everyone except him, apparently.
He flaps out his hands and takes off his apron, hanging it up. When he leaves the kitchen nobody says anything- and Mumbo asks if he'll help him with his food.
Impulse nods, and comes to sit.
He's distracted for the rest of dinner, spooning up bits of mac n cheese for Mumbo to eat, reliving the moment over and over and over again- Skizz had lifted him like he weighed nothing, scooped him up easier than anything in the world and plopped him down like it was no big deal. The buckles were so secure, and he'd expected to feel so constricted but instead he was just - safe.
Mumbo whines, and Impulse snaps back to himself to find the cheese has dripped onto Mumbo's shirt, the bib effectively useless, and Impulse quickly mutters apologies as he scrapes together a napkin to wipe it up with. Mumbo doesn't cry as much as he used to, but his eyes still well with tears, and for some reason, so do Impulse's.
Before they can fall, though, Skizz swoops in.
"Hey Mumby-muffin," he greets in his gentle teasing voice, "c'mere, lemme help you with that."
Impulse lets out a breath that is much shakier than he thought it would be, and steps aside so Skizz can help Mumbo up. And because wherever Mumbo goes, Grian follows, Grian jumps up after them, accidentally whacking Impulse with his wings on the way.
"Sorry Impy!" he calls over his shoulder at Skizz's prompting, and Impulse forces a laugh and says it's alright.
Impulse sits, buzzing as the hermits around him eat and chatter. Food makes some of them big again, and they step in to help when it's clear Impulse is struggling- and soon enough food is being cleaned up, stools are being straightened, and Impulse is left in the lingering quiet of his sushi bar, trying desperately not to cry.
He's startled out of it by a hand clapping him on the back.
"Whew! Another dinner, successful, thanks to us!" Skizz cheers, pumping the fist that isn't at Impulse's back, then holding it out for a high five, "dads of all time right here, gimme some!"
Impulse stares at his outstretched hand. He knows he's breathing too heavily. He feels oddly frantic. It takes everything in him to bring his hand up to press against his, trembling all the while.
At this, Skizz's smile fades. The hand at his back starts drawing gentle circles, "what's wrong, dop?"
Impulse can only breathe, shrugging. Skizz's hand curls around his, squeezing once, before letting him go.
"How does some grub sound?" Skizz asks, patting his back twice before pulling away, "any requests?"
At this, Impulse forces out words, "a-anything's fine."
"So leftover mac n cheese is good?"
Impulse nods.
Then Skizz starts whistling, and Impulse focuses on his breathing, counting seconds as Skizz putters about, retrieving a spoon and a bowl and a cup for Impulse, turning the sink on at the end.
Impulse counts the six seconds it's on. Then the one-two taps of the pot being lifted and set on the burners. Then the click-click-click of the burner being turned on. He counts how many notes Skizz whistles, tries to recognize the tune, but Skizz has never been so good at whistling.
The buzz quiets to something manageable, but it still lingers. He turns to face Skizz, pausing on the high chair.
Something like hope pinches his lungs.
"You good, dop?"
"Could you do it again?" comes spilling out of him.
"Do what? The chair thing?"
Impulse dares a glance. Skizz is smiling, overly fond, and the glint in his eye is almost excited. Impulse looks away, overwhelmed by the fondness and the new heat in his face, and nods.
"Yeah, I can do that," Skizz says, softer now, "come on over."
They move to the chair together- Impulse on slightly trembling legs and Skizz with a comforting surety. Impulse turns around to face him, and Skizz smiles down at him, ruffling his hair.
"Ready?"
Impulse nods.
Then it happens again- Skizz crouches just enough to scoop Impulse up by the arms and place him in the chair. Impulse sits, leaning forward so Skizz can drag the straps out from behind him, clicking them in place across his belly. Then he steps back, retrieving the tray from the floor, brushes off a few crumbs, then clicks it into place one stap at a time, first on the right, then on the left.
The buzzing in Impulse's mind turns to a fuzz. He brings a hand up to his lips, and rests his elbows on the tray.
Skizz smiles, ruffling his hair again, "how's that, buddy? Not too tight?"
"S'good," he whispers, suddenly overwhelmed. Tears leak out of him, he wipes them away fast, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
There's a slight counter weight, as he assumes Skizz puts his own elbows on the tray, leaning in close.
"Good tears or bad tears, bud?"
Impulse shrugs, shaking.
"That's okay," Skizz answers, and there are hands on his arms now, rubbing gentle circles with their thumbs, impossibly comforting, "we can stay like this for a bit, yeah?"
Impulse nods, his breaths heavy. The hopeful pinch in his chest spread to something warm and comforting, like the lingering warmth of a hug.
"Lemme know when you're ready for that mac n cheese."
Impulse nods again.
//
It's sort of a Thing after that. Something he thinks about often, thought he doesn't really use the chair in front of the hermits if he can help it.
✮⋆˙ Thinking of being a big brother to a little sibling. Making them some kraft and putting some nuggets in the oven for lunch, letting them help stir the cheese in if they're careful and high fiving them when they've finished helping making everything and serving the food.
✮⋆˙ Teasing them, and laughing when their cheeks puff, just to stop and let them finally have their way because how can I say no for too long? Giving them a disconnected controller before connecting it and helping them choose their character, or sliding my hand away right before they land the high five only to ruffle their hair right after. I'm big bro, it's my job to be a little bit teasing!
✮⋆˙ Pretending I don't wanna play with their toys, but still doing it anyways because I not-so-secretly love playing with them. Putting on my best "girl voice" for the drama with the dolls, or losing on purpose when play wrestling, or helping them build a block tower just to knock down.
✮⋆˙ Putting on a scary movie, and trying to get them to go to bed. 'This is for big kids, it's not for lil bugs like you.' If they insisted, I'd let them, putting on one less intense than I originally planned. If they get scared, I'll shut it off and shush them, gently telling them 'I told you, bubba's movies are too scary'. I'd let them sleep in my room for the night though, making a pallet on the floor or passing out in my gaming chair after a night of quietly gaming after they went to sleep.
