raincloud

SFW Ghost Agere blog

[littlerainyghoul]

Sfw side blog for Ghost (the band) and regressed ghoul fics :]

Safe space <333

Main blog -> @rainycavedew

Main writing blog -> @ghoulelegy

Disclaimer: I am over the age of 18. These blogs above are largely 18+ (please keep in mind that there might be things not appropriate for littles)

Sfw age regression here - not a kink.

Only safe for work stuff will be posted here :]]

Please don't send gross nsfw asks here :)

Requests are open.

Masterlist

[prionsadhd]

Would anyone be interested if I make a discord server?

[littlerainyghoul]

🌙 The dark isn’t mean anymore 🌙

Caregiver Swiss & Regressed Storm

fluffy, hurt/comfort, age regression, child-friendly ✨

Storm is new, overwhelmed, and trying very hard to be brave - but the dark feels like too much. When Swiss finds him scared and small, he reminds Storm that it’s okay to need light, comfort, and someone steady to sit with him until the storm passes. Read here or on ao3!

Storm tried really hard not to be scared.

The room wasn’t bad. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even cold. But the lights were low… and when the shadows stretched, a storm brewed in his mind, small at first, then louder. Not thunder - more like pressure. Like the air before rain.

Too dark.

Storm sat on the edge of the bed, feet not quite touching the floor, fingers knotted in his sleeves. The quiet pressed in, heavy as thick clouds. Every little sound felt too loud—the hum in the walls, the distant echo of footsteps, his own breathing, rushing like wind in his ears.

He told himself it was okay. He told himself he was a ghoul now. Big. Strong.

But his thoughts went wobbly anyway, like a compass spinning in bad weather.

The dark made everything feel wrong. Like the corners of the room were watching. Like something might move if he blinked. Like lightning could strike even when the sky looked calm.

“I don’ like it…” he whispered, voice small and shaky. “Too dark…”

He hugged his knees, rocking just a little, trying to ride it out. But the storm in his chest wouldn’t settle. His purr wouldn’t come. His hands felt cold, like he’d been left out in the rain too long.

The door creaked.

Storm startled, shoulders jumping, heart thudding like sudden thunder.

“Hey - hey,” Swiss said quickly, voice soft and warm. “It’s just me, okay? You’re safe.”

Swiss stepped inside and didn’t turn on the big light—just a small lamp. A gentle glow filled the room, like sunrise after a long night, pushing the shadows back into harmless corners.

“There,” Swiss murmured. “Better.”

Storm peeked up, eyes shiny. The storm inside him eased just a little, like rain slowing to a drizzle.

“It was scary,” he admitted, words tumbling out now. “I tried bein’ brave but it got all… big.”

Swiss crouched in front of him so they were eye to eye. “That’s okay,” he said without hesitation. “You’re new. Everything’s different. Being scared doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.”

Storm sniffed. “Dark feels like… too much.” Like standing in the middle of a storm with no shelter.

“Yeah,” Swiss nodded. “Dark can be like that. Specially when you’re little.”

Storm hesitated. “…I’m little?”

Swiss smiled gently. “Right now? Yeah. And that’s allowed.”

Storm’s shoulders sagged like he’d been holding them up against the wind forever. The storm in his chest finally broke—not into lightning, but into soft rain. He made a tiny sound and leaned forward, pressing into Swiss’s chest.

Swiss wrapped his arms around him right away, warm and steady. Like a solid roof over his head. “Gotcha,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Storm curled in, fingers clutching Swiss’s shirt. His purr finally started—soft and shaky at first, then stronger, steady as rainfall as Swiss rubbed slow circles on his back.

“Can the light stay on?” Storm asked sleepily.

“As long as you want,” Swiss said. “We can even leave two on if that helps.”

Storm relaxed fully then, melting into the hug. The storm inside him faded to quiet air. The dark stayed far away, held back by warm light and gentle hands.

“Swiss?” he murmured.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“…thank you for not bein’ mad.”

Swiss hugged him a little tighter. “Never,” he said softly. “You’re safe here. Even when the storm gets loud. Especially then.”

Storm stayed curled against Swiss for a long moment, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. It was slow. Even. Nothing rushed. Storm tried to match his breathing to it, little inhales and long, careful exhales.

His purr rumbled on its own now, a quiet, needy sound he hadn’t meant to let out. Swiss didn’t comment on it. He just kept rubbing slow circles on Storm’s back, over and over, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” Swiss murmured after a bit. “Wanna sit up here instead? Bed’s softer than the floor.”

Storm hesitated, then nodded. Swiss shifted carefully, keeping one arm around him the whole time, and settled them both onto the bed. Storm crawled closer without thinking, tucking himself against Swiss’s side like he was afraid the dark might sneak back if he didn’t.

Swiss pulled a blanket up and around them. “There we go. All wrapped.”

Storm made a tiny pleased noise and burrowed in deeper. The lamp cast a warm little circle of light, just enough to see Swiss’s mask and the edge of the room. Everything outside that glow didn’t matter.

“Dark feels quieter now,” Storm said softly. “Not… mean.”

“That’s ’cause you’re not alone in it,” Swiss replied. “Dark’s a lot less scary when someone’s sittin’ with you.”

Storm thought about that. His fingers traced the edge of the blanket, then curled into Swiss’s sleeve again. “When I’m by myself,” he whispered, “my head makes stuff up. Bad stuff.”

Swiss hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. Brains do that. Specially tired ones. Specially new-ghoul ones.”

Storm sniffed. “I didn’t wanna bother nobody.”

Swiss stopped rubbing his back just long enough to gently tip Storm’s chin up so he’d look at him. “Hey. You’re not a bother. You’re allowed to need help. You don’t gotta earn that.”

Storm’s eyes went glassy. “Even if I’m scared of somethin’ dumb?”

“Storm,” Swiss said softly, firm but kind. “Being scared isn’t dumb. It’s just your body askin’ for comfort.”

That did it.

Storm curled in again, pressing his face into Swiss’s chest. His purrs got louder, fuller, like his body finally believed it was okay. Swiss wrapped both arms around him this time, holding him snug and steady.

“Can you stay?” Storm asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Just till I’m sleepy?”

Swiss smiled under his mask. “Yeah, kid. I can stay as long as you need.”

Swiss stayed just like that, arms snug around Storm, rocking them the tiniest bit without even thinking about it. The kind of motion that said nothing bad is happening right now. Storm melted into it immediately, heavy and warm and very, very small.

His purrs softened into a steady little rumble, like rain tapping on a window instead of pounding the roof. His fingers relaxed, unclenching from Swiss’s shirt just enough to rest there instead, trusting it wouldn’t disappear.

“Hey,” Swiss murmured quietly. “You’re doin’ real good, y’know that?”

Storm made a sleepy noise. “Mm’tryin’…”

“I can tell.” Swiss brushed his thumb gently along Storm’s sleeve. “Storms don’t last forever. Even the big ones.”

Storm shifted a little closer, nose bumping into Swiss’s chest. “Felt real big,” he mumbled. “Like… whole sky was mad at me.”

Swiss’s heart clenched just a bit. He hugged Storm closer, firm but gentle. “Nah. Sky wasn’t mad. Just noisy. And noisy stuff needs somewhere safe to settle.”

Storm considered that, eyes half-lidded. “Like… like birds hidin’ when it rains?”

“Exactly like that,” Swiss said softly. “You found shelter.”

Storm hummed, pleased. His purr picked up again, stronger for a moment. “You’re… my shelter?”

Swiss smiled. “Yeah, kiddo. I can be that.”

Storm’s shoulders finally went fully slack, all the leftover tension sliding out of him. He wriggled just enough to get comfortable, tucking his feet against Swiss’s leg and his head under Swiss’s chin.

“Can you… talk a little?” Storm asked quietly. “So my head don’ get loud again.”

“Sure,” Swiss said immediately. “What d’you wanna hear?”

Storm thought hard, brow furrowing. “Somethin’ boring,” he decided. “So I can sleep.”

Swiss chuckled softly. “Alright. Boring it is.”

He started talking in a low, even voice—nothing important. Just gentle nonsense. What the halls were like at night. How the lights always hummed the same way. How tomorrow there’d probably be breakfast, and maybe something warm to drink, and Storm wouldn’t have to do anything before he was ready.

Storm listened, eyes drifting closed. Each word felt like another blanket laid gently over him.

“Swiss?” he whispered suddenly.

“Mm?”

“If I get scared again… I can come get you?”

“Anytime,” Swiss said without hesitation. “Day, night, storm, sunshine. You don’t gotta be brave by yourself.”

Storm smiled, small and sleepy, cheek pressed to Swiss’s chest. “Okay…”

His purrs slowed, stretching out between breaths. His breathing evened, matching Swiss’s heartbeat again—slow, steady, safe.

The lamp stayed on. The shadows behaved. The storm inside Storm faded completely, leaving only quiet clouds drifting away.

And tucked warm against someone who wasn’t going anywhere, Storm finally, finally fell asleep - little, safe, and held.

[littlerainyghoul]

I really need to update my masterlist omg

[littlerainyghoul]

ok so I feel the need to send a follow up, feel free to not respond.

I sent the first ask about little Air when I had only read your writing without fully scrolling through your blog. I read what you had/have been going through and I am so so sorry.

I cannot imagine the frustration and confusion that comes with those things, and I’m just glad that you are relatively ok. Please don’t worry about my request or anything. Your blog alone has helped me tremendously and I barely even scratched the surface of it apparently! Keep doing what your doing, your accomplishing more than you know everyday.

Anon, i would absolutely love to write out the request for you. And I am so glad that the blog has helped you out. This is such an incredibly sweet message it brought me to tears /pos. Give me some time to go through my backlog of fics I've written but never posted, and I'll get right down to yours, I promise <3. Take good care of yourself anon.

[littlerainyghoul]

Crooked Stars and Soft Blankets

Regressed!Dewdrop and Caregivers Copia + Aether - SAFE FOR WORK Read here or on Ao3

Dewdrop hadn’t meant to sit down.

One moment he’d been standing in the hallway, noise all echo-y in his head - voices, footsteps, the low thrum of the Ministry - and the next his knees just… plopped. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, back pressed tight to the stone.

Everything felt too much.

His gloves felt funny. His mask squished his face. The lights overhead buzzed in a way he couldn’t make go away. He curled up, elbows on his knees, hands twisting in his sleeves like he didn’t know what to do with them.

He tried to breathe.

It didn’t help.

His thoughts started to wobble, edges blurring, sharp frustration melting into something tiny and shaky. He rocked a little without meaning to, slow and uneven. He hated this part—the way he felt like he was shrinking when he didn’t wanna.

“Stop… get it togethers,” he whispered, voice tiny and squeaky.

Footsteps came closer, then slowed.

Frater Imperator stopped a little ways off. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t loom. He just stood there, quiet and soft, until Dewdrop noticed and stiffened.

“I’m… f-fine,” Dewdrop squeaked, too fast. “J-just… tired.”

Frater Imperator crouched down so he wasn’t so tall, bringing himself to eye-level. “You look… overwhelmed,” he said soft-soft.

Dewdrop shook his head, hair falling into his face. “I shouldn’t be. I can handle it…”

Frater Imperator watched for a long while, taking in Dewdrop’s tiny hands, the rocking, the eyes glued to the floor.

“Come w-with me,” he said at last, voice gentle. “We’re gonna make somethin’.”

Dewdrop blinked. “M-make… wha…?”

“A room,” Frater Imperator said softly. “One that’s quiet-quieter than here.”

Dewdrop hesitated, then slowly got to his feet. He stayed close as they walked, tiny fingers brushing the wall for comfort.

They stopped in a space—empty stone, forgotten, bare. Frater Imperator looked around, thinking.

“This’ll do,” he said.

Over the next while, Dewdrop sat on the floor and watched, little breaths soft in the quiet.

Frater Imperator dimmed the lights till they glowed soft and sleepy. Blankets—thick and warm—appeared in a basket. Pillows piled in a cozy heap. A low table, simple and safe, was set.

Later, Frater came back with little treasures: smooth stones, squishy putty, soft fabric bits, coloring pages, and fat crayons. He set them down carefully, like he was tucking them in.

“This room,” he said softly, “is for any ghoul who feels all squishy and too-full inside. Just like you now.”

Dewdrop hugged his knees to his chest. “I… I’m not… breaking anything?”

“Nope,” Frater Imperator said, gentle-gentle. “You’re listening to what your body needs, lil’ one.”

Dewdrop reached for a blanket with tiny fingers, then pulled it into his lap and wrapped it around himself. He curled smaller, softer, safer.

The room felt… different. Quiet. Soft. Like it was giving him a hug back.

Frater Imperator watched for a heartbeat, then smiled. “I’ll leave you to it for now, sweetling. Stay as long as you like.”

When the door clicked closed, Dewdrop was alone—but not lonely.

He tucked his chin into the blanket and breathed.

For the first time all day, the world felt… soft.

Dewdrop stayed longer than he thought he would. He traced the blankets with his fingers, let his tiny body melt against the pillows, and slowly, slowly, the hallway echoes and Ministry hums faded into a soft purr inside his chest.

He noticed the table with crayons and coloring pages. At first, he poked them nervously. “I… I shouldn’t…” he whispered. But the colors called to him. He picked up a green crayon, drawing a wobbly spiral. Then another. A few dots. Each scribble felt like leaving a little bit of him safe here.

“Good lil’ one,” Frater Imperator said softly from the doorway. Dewdrop jumped - then saw the door was just cracked open. “You can use all this. It’s yours… and for anyone who feels too squishy or tired. But right now? It’s just for you.”

Dewdrop’s ears turned pink. “I… I didn’t wanna… take up space…”

Frater Imperator crouched again, careful not to loom. “You’re not taking up space, snugglebug. This room is here because you need it. Because you’re precious. Every little stone, every blanket, every crooked star—it’s all okay.”

Dewdrop hugged the blanket tighter, sliding the crayons across the table, stacking a few pages, arranging stones. His tiny heart tickled with pride—it wasn’t claiming, it was… being allowed to exist without hiding.

“I… I like it here,” he murmured.

Frater Imperator smiled. “Then keep making it yours, tiny one.”

Dewdrop’s little hands rearranged pillows into a nest, tucked blankets around, lined up stones like tiny guards, and even stacked coloring pages in a neat-but-crooked little pile. Each movement made him feel braver inside, even though he was curled small.

“And when I’m all tiny and scared?” he whispered to himself.

“This room is yours,” Frater Imperator had said. “You are allowed. You are safe. You are loved.”

Dewdrop reached for another crayon, scribbled a happy swirl on a page, and hummed softly. Tiny, careful movements. Tiny purrs escaping his throat.

The guilt began to fade. Comfort seeped in. And for the first time in a long while, Dewdrop felt he truly belonged somewhere.

Dewdrop had just finished taping another crooked star to the wall when he heard the soft creak of the door.

He froze, hugging his blanket nest tighter.

“Aethie?” he squeaked.

The figure in the doorway stepped lightly into the warm glow. Calm, soft, like a slow tide. Aether crouched down near him, careful not to scare him.

“Hi, lil’ one,” Aether said softly. “May I come in?”

Dewdrop nodded, curling tighter. Fingers fiddled with a smooth stone as he watched Aether settle nearby.

“You’ve made this room so nice,” Aether murmured, eyes flicking to the crooked stars, the stones, the nest. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Dewdrop purred - a tiny, happy little sound. “I… I like it,” he whispered. “It’s… safe.”

Aether’s hand moved slowly toward him. Dewdrop leaned in, pressing into it. Purrs tumbled out, tiny vibrations running through him.

“You don’t have to be small alone,” Aether said. “You can let someone be here with you.”

Dewdrop snuggled closer, curling fully into Aether’s arm. Head tucked, little body relaxed. Every exhale calm. Every purr a soft drum of relief.

“You’re safe,” Aether murmured, chin on his head. “You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to fix anything. You can just… be you.”

Dewdrop’s tiny fingers tangled in the blanket. He let himself melt. Purrs soft and warm, tears pricking his eyes from relief, not sadness.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, voice tiny, baby-like.

“I’m always here, lil’ one,” Aether promised. “Whenever you need me.”

And there, in the quiet, cozy, crooked-starred room, Dewdrop purred fully, letting all the comfort fill him.

[littlebittyrynsie]

🍎I love you regressors who can’t work public jobs

🍐I love you regressors who are disabled

🫐I love you regressors who feel useless because you feel like you aren’t contributing enough

🍓I love you regressors who aren’t able to be independent

🍊I love you regressors who aren’t “productive” in the eyes of capitalism

🍎I love you permaregressors

🍐you all are so valid and you deserve to live a happy, innocent, beautiful life

[littlerainyghoul]

🦇 Regressed Phantom Ghoul Stimboard + Headcannons🦇

🦇🦇🦇/🦇🦇🦇/🦇🦇🦇

Regressed Phantom Ghoul Headcannons

🦇 Will meow at you

🦇 Brings you his favourite toys as “gifts”

🦇 If he’s wearing the bat wings, he’ll flap them around when happy

🦇 Loves to gently nibble on your shirts when he misses you

🦇 Will sleep on your shirt. Because he misses you.

🦇 Very, very, VERY cuddly — will subconsciously cuddle with you in his sleep

🦇 Loves to repeat words when speaking

🦇 Has a talent for mimicry, often copying sounds around him

🦇 Favourite games when regressed: “bat” and “bugs” (pretending to be one or the other)

🦇 Once broke the chandelier in the ghoul common room trying to hang upside down like a bat

🦇 LOVES sleeping upside down

🦇 Favourite scent is sandalwood

🦇 Likes to nibble on his claws when anxious or fidgety

🦇 Fascinated by shiny objects — will “hunt” them playfully

🦇 Tilts his head curiously like a bat if you say his name in a funny tone

🦇 Gets distracted easily by sparkly lights (fairy lights, glitter, candle flames) and will try to chase them

🦇 Makes soft clicking or chirping noises when excited

🦇 Curls up in blankets like a cocoon — only glowing eyes peeking out

🦇 Collects “treasures” and hides them in little stashes (coins, beads, buttons)

🦇 Flaps his arms like wings and wiggles his tail when really happy

🦇 Loves being read to, especially animal or creature stories

🦇 Very sensitive to tone of voice — gentle praise makes him beam and wiggle

🦇 Rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands when sleepy, softly humming to himself

🦇 Chews or mouths soft things (plushies, blankets, sleeves) for comfort

🦇 Sometimes tries to “echo locate” in dark rooms with little noises

🦇 If startled, hides behind you and peeks out while clutching your sleeve

🦇 Mimics your gestures without realizing it (if you stretch, he stretches too)

🦇 Melts when scratched behind his ears or along his horns

🦇 Occasionally gets the zoomies — scampering around with squeaks and flaps until he crashes into a nap

🦇 Will fall asleep on top of you like a weighted blanket, no matter how inconvenient

[littlerainyghoul]

🦇 Regressed Phantom Ghoul Stimboard + Headcannons🦇

🦇🦇🦇/🦇🦇🦇/🦇🦇🦇

Regressed Phantom Ghoul Headcannons

🦇 Will meow at you

🦇 Brings you his favourite toys as “gifts”

🦇 If he’s wearing the bat wings, he’ll flap them around when happy

🦇 Loves to gently nibble on your shirts when he misses you

🦇 Will sleep on your shirt. Because he misses you.

🦇 Very, very, VERY cuddly — will subconsciously cuddle with you in his sleep

🦇 Loves to repeat words when speaking

🦇 Has a talent for mimicry, often copying sounds around him

🦇 Favourite games when regressed: “bat” and “bugs” (pretending to be one or the other)

🦇 Once broke the chandelier in the ghoul common room trying to hang upside down like a bat

🦇 LOVES sleeping upside down

🦇 Favourite scent is sandalwood

🦇 Likes to nibble on his claws when anxious or fidgety

🦇 Fascinated by shiny objects — will “hunt” them playfully

🦇 Tilts his head curiously like a bat if you say his name in a funny tone

🦇 Gets distracted easily by sparkly lights (fairy lights, glitter, candle flames) and will try to chase them

🦇 Makes soft clicking or chirping noises when excited

🦇 Curls up in blankets like a cocoon — only glowing eyes peeking out

🦇 Collects “treasures” and hides them in little stashes (coins, beads, buttons)

🦇 Flaps his arms like wings and wiggles his tail when really happy

🦇 Loves being read to, especially animal or creature stories

🦇 Very sensitive to tone of voice — gentle praise makes him beam and wiggle

🦇 Rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands when sleepy, softly humming to himself

🦇 Chews or mouths soft things (plushies, blankets, sleeves) for comfort

🦇 Sometimes tries to “echo locate” in dark rooms with little noises

🦇 If startled, hides behind you and peeks out while clutching your sleeve

🦇 Mimics your gestures without realizing it (if you stretch, he stretches too)

🦇 Melts when scratched behind his ears or along his horns

🦇 Occasionally gets the zoomies — scampering around with squeaks and flaps until he crashes into a nap

🦇 Will fall asleep on top of you like a weighted blanket, no matter how inconvenient

[littlerainyghoul]

Decided to open my requests again, they might take quite a bit because I am currently in an open ward and don't always have access to internet :) but I do really enjoy connecting with you and offering comfort.

[littlerainyghoul]

I hope everything's going okay. I miss you , as a mutual and fan of your writing, but mostly, you. I've been worried about you, though we've never spoken.

I can only hope and pray to my god that you're okay. It's scary. I've been where you are. It can be awful.

I'm not very good with words, but, when, if, you decide to come back, I hope this finds you well. I hope everything goes well and smoothly.

This is all to say; i hope you are happy. I hope you are loved. I hope you have never ending energy and friends and love, love, love.

Tw: mentions of cancer, chemo, but positive.

Thank you for saying that, it really means a lot. It made me realise how quiet I have been online. I’m in remission now, after 2 or 3 months of chemo, and I’m slowly recovering with my family around me. Some days feel steadier than others, but I’m taking it one step at a time and trying to be patient with myself.

Writing is still a little tough, I usually need to be in a softer headspace to get words out, and I don’t always have the energy to reach that place. I’m slowly trying to find it again though, little by little. I sometimes don't have the energy. Between being in an open ward and not always having access to my laptop, my online presence has been at the back of my mindm

Your message felt really kind and grounding to me. I’m noticing small signs of healing, a bit more strength, more moments of connection, and the thought that joy and love can keep finding their way back in. I’m grateful for that, and for you reaching out with such gentleness.

That being said, feel free to reach out whenever, anon. I do have a backlist of ficlets I never got round to writing because I have been so incredibly exhausted but I do want to try and tackle it slowly.

Thank you for existing, anon

[littlerainyghoul]

Hello my little ones,

This post will be talking about some triggering things. If you are not in the headspace, please prioritise your mental health. You are loved and cared for.

Talk of cancer:

I was recently diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully, it’s not terminal, and we caught it early, about the best kind of bad news you can get. Still, it’s been a whirlwind: tests, appointments, “just in case” conversations, and those strange, quiet moments where everything looks the same, but I feel different. Like the sun’s still shining, but I’m not the same person standing under it.

I started chemotherapy and I am on the path to remission. But I am feeling chronically tired and sick in the meantime. I am still working as i can't afford to not work. I am also doing a full time degree in university. Hence, I will likely be taking a step back from social media for a while. I will be posting updates when I can, but for now requests will be closed.

Thank you all for the immense support you have given me. It means a lot.

With love, Rainy

[littlerainyghoul]

I wonder if kits (baby ghouls) are aware if their own tail. Imagine...

Little kits, barely more than fluff and mischief, tumble through the underbrush on unsteady legs. Their oversized ears twitch at every sound, and their bright eyes gleam with curiosity. But their tails — long, twitchy, and entirely unpredictable — are a mystery to them.

One kit spots the flick of its own tail. They freeze. The tail flicks again.

Enemy spotted.

With a squeaky growl, the kit spins, tripping over their own paws. The tail is gone. But wait — there it is again! The chase is on. Around and around, a blur of fur and determination, the kit circles so fast it forgets why it started.

Nearby, another kit watches, head cocked. Then its tail twitches.

Moments later, the whole den is a cyclone of tiny predators locked in a valiant, hopeless battle against their own behinds.

One by one, they collapse in a fluffy pile, dizzy, victorious, and none the wiser. Their tails, now still, curl like question marks.

[littlerainyghoul]

hi!

just wanted to say that I discovered your regressed ghoul fics recently and they’ve been wonderfully comforting to read while regressed myself

thank you for them!!!!!

AWW I'm glad you like them! Again I'm so sorry it's been quieter. It takes a bit for me to get into the headspace to write ages regression fics.

More are on the way I promise!! :]

[littlerainyghoul]

Steady Hands, Steady Heart

For @nyxtheghoulette

Regressed Dewdrop and Caregiver Mountain Summary: Dewdrop is trapped in the aftermath of a nightmare, panicking as he unintentionally hurts Mountain in his sleep. Filled with guilt and fear, he avoids Mountain, convinced that he’s angry.

Tags and possible trigger warnings: Hurt/Comfort Angst Guilt Vulnerability Nightmare Panic Attack Regression Cuddling

Word Count: 3.5K Read on Ao3

Dewdrop wasn’t happy. Not at all.

Even in sleep, his body refused to rest, caught in a restless cycle of tossing and turning, his limbs twitching with every flicker of the nightmare that refused to release its hold on him. A low, distressed whine slipped from his throat, barely audible in the stillness of the room, his claws curling and uncurling against the sheets as if searching for something—someone—that wasn’t there.

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

The nightmare clung to him like thick fog, suffocating and inescapable, pressing down on all sides with a weight that made his limbs feel sluggish, as if he were trapped in something viscous and unrelenting. He could feel the cold creeping into his bones, an unnatural, aching chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, spreading through his body like an infection that no amount of warmth could chase away.

Alone. Lost. Cold.

The fear curled around his ribs, tightening with every uneven breath he took, every desperate call that left his lips only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence surrounding him. He called for Mountain—reached for him—but there was nothing. No warmth. No steady presence at his side. No solid hands to ground him, to pull him out of the darkness. Only the endless, suffocating emptiness that stretched on forever, swallowing him whole.

A soft, broken whimper escaped him as his body betrayed him, his limbs growing heavier with every passing second, his strength draining as though something unseen was taking it from him. He was stuck, trapped, unable to move, unable to run, unable to find what he so desperately needed, his mind spiraling deeper and deeper into panic as the feeling of helplessness wrapped around him like an iron vice.

And then—something touched him.

The shift was instant, his entire body going rigid, his instincts screaming before his mind had the chance to catch up, fear twisting into something sharp and blinding as he jerked upright. His breath hitched, panic surging through his veins like wildfire, his muscles coiling too tight, his body moving before he could think, before he could stop himself—

His elbow swung out, fast and hard.

A sickening thud. A startled, pained grunt.

His eyes flew open.

Everything was too much—too bright, too sharp, too real—and yet, his brain refused to make sense of it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as his vision swam, his surroundings unfamiliar and suffocating all at once. His heart pounded erratically against his ribs, his claws digging into the sheets as his mind struggled to catch up, to understand—

And then he saw him.

Mountain.

Sitting up, his broad form barely shifting under the weight of the hit, his features still fogged with sleep and confusion as he pressed a large, steady hand to his side where Dew had struck him.

Dew felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, a sickening, lurching sensation that left him lightheaded and dizzy, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse roared in his ears. The panic that had already taken root inside him twisted and morphed into something far, far worse, something sharp and gut-wrenching that made his insides churn with guilt and horror.

He had hurt Mountain.

He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t even been aware—but that didn’t change the fact that he had done it, had lashed out blindly, had hurt the one person he had wanted—needed—to be there the most.

His breathing turned shallow, too quick and uneven, his body shrinking in on itself as the realization sent another violent wave of nausea rolling through him. He had to fix it. He had to do something—but his thoughts were running too fast, slipping through his fingers like sand before he could grasp onto anything solid, and the only thing his panicked, nightmare-drenched brain could come up with was—

Get away.

He moved without thinking, his limbs feeling too light and too heavy all at once as he scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in his rush to put distance between them, his chest tightening painfully as his mind screamed at him to go, go, go.

Mountain’s voice was rough with sleep and concern as he leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Dew?”

Dew flinched at the sound of his name, his claws twitching at his sides as his throat tightened, every muscle in his body wound so tight he thought he might snap apart at the seams.

“I—I gotta go,” he choked out, the words barely making it past the tightness in his chest, barely even sounding like his own voice, before his legs carried him forward, and he ran.

He didn’t stop.

Not until he was far, far away.

It didn’t matter that it had been an accident. It didn’t matter that Mountain was too kind to say he was angry, too patient to lash out, too Mountain to hold it against him. Because he must have been angry, right? Even if he hadn’t yelled, even if he hadn’t looked at Dew with anything other than concern, even if he hadn’t—

Dew squeezed his eyes shut, curling his arms around himself, his claws digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he fought the nausea twisting in his gut.

It didn’t matter.

He had hurt Mountain.

Even now, the memory replayed in his mind on an endless, suffocating loop—waking up in terror, his body moving before his mind, the dull, sickening thud of his elbow connecting with Mountain’s ribs, the way Mountain had grunted in pain, the brief flicker of surprise on his face before Dew had bolted from the room like a coward.

The worst part was that Mountain hadn’t even gotten mad. Hadn’t cursed, hadn’t scowled, hadn’t done anything but look at him with sleepy confusion, concern bleeding into his gaze as if he were the one worried about Dew.

And that? That was so much worse.

Because it left too much room for Dew’s mind to fill in the gaps.

Of course Mountain was upset. Even if he hadn’t said it, even if he hadn’t shown it. How could he not be? Dew had struck him, had lashed out like an animal, had run away like a coward without even checking to see if Mountain was okay. Just because Mountain was too kind to hold it over him didn’t mean he wasn’t angry. It just meant he was keeping it to himself, letting it fester, waiting for the right moment to actually let it show.

So Dew needed to stay away. At least for a little while. Let Mountain cool off. Let himself cool off.

And that was exactly what he did.

For the rest of the morning, Dew avoided Mountain like his life depended on it.

He stuck to the farthest rooms in the abbey, keeping his head down, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, lurking in the quietest corners where he knew no one would bother him. If he had to be around others, he made sure to position himself near an exit, just in case Mountain walked in.

At breakfast, when Mountain sat down at the table, Dew suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore, the mere thought of sitting near him making his stomach churn. He gripped his plate a little too tightly, his claws scraping against the ceramic as he muttered some excuse and left before Mountain could even look his way.

When he caught sight of Mountain in the hallway—broad-shouldered and steady as always—Dew shrank into the shadows, his steps light and quick, his heart hammering as he pressed himself against the cold stone walls and held his breath until Mountain passed.

When he heard Mountain’s voice from another room, deep and calm as ever, Dew’s ears flattened, his tail curling tight around his ankle as he immediately turned on his heel and went the other way, refusing to risk even a glance in his direction.

He was careful. So careful.

And yet, Mountain must have noticed.

Because more than once, Dew caught him looking.

It wasn’t much—just small, quiet glances, his brow furrowed in a way that Dew knew meant he was trying to figure something out, his head tilting slightly when Dew passed him without a word. At one point, when Dew had been too slow to slip away unnoticed, their eyes met across the hallway—just for a second, just long enough for Dew to see the question there, the faint flicker of something that looked almost like hurt—before he tore his gaze away and fled.

But Mountain never said anything.

And of course he didn’t.

Because Mountain was mad at him.

Because Mountain was just waiting for Dew to get over himself, waiting for the right moment to let the frustration boil over, to tell Dew exactly how disappointed he was, how stupid Dew had been for reacting the way he had.

Dew just had to wait for it to pass.

Right?

Because what if Mountain was mad? What if he’d just been holding it in, waiting for Dew to come to him so he could finally let him have it?

No. Dew would rather keep running than risk finding out.

Unfortunately, Cirrus had other plans.

He didn’t even see her coming. One second, he was slipping through an empty hallway, head down, steps quiet, already planning his escape route. The next, a firm hand snatched him by the collar, yanking him backward with surprising strength.

Dew let out a startled yelp, scrambling for balance, but before he could react, Cirrus shoved him into an alcove, pressing him back against the wall with one hand flat against his chest.

His heart jumped, panic flaring hot in his veins—but when he met her eyes, it wasn’t anger he saw. It was something worse.

Irritation.

Disappointment.

Like she was tired of whatever ridiculous thing he was doing.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice clipped, her piercing gaze locked onto his like she could see right through him.

Dew swallowed hard, claws twitching at his sides. “What are you talking about?”

Cirrus rolled her eyes, stepping back just enough to cross her arms over her chest. “Don’t play dumb, Dew. You’ve been skulking around all morning like a kicked puppy. I’ve seen you running from Mountain like he’s out for blood, and spoiler alert, he’s not. So why don’t you quit the theatrics and tell me what’s actually going on?”

Dew’s throat tightened. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her scrutiny. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just—drop it, Cirrus.”

“Not a chance.”

"Dew sighed sharply, frustration bubbling up, but Cirrus didn’t budge. She just stared at him, unimpressed, waiting him out like she always did when she knew he wasn’t being honest.

And, okay, maybe he wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it.

Still, Cirrus wasn’t going anywhere, and Dew knew from experience that she wouldn’t let up until she got something out of him.

So, reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and muttered, “I— I hurt Mountain.”

Cirrus blinked. “You what?”

Dew winced, his tail curling around his leg. “Not—not on purpose, obviously,” he said quickly. “It was an accident. I had a nightmare, and when he tried to wake me up, I panicked and— I elbowed him. Hard.”

Cirrus’ expression shifted slightly, her sharp glare softening just a fraction. But she didn’t say anything, so Dew kept going, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, voice tight. “But I still did it. And Mountain— he didn’t even get mad. He just looked at me. And I— I ran. Like a fucking idiot.”

Cirrus sighed through her nose, pinching the bridge of it like he was giving her a headache. “Dew.”

He clenched his jaw. “What?”

“You are an idiot.”

Dew’s ears flattened. “Wow. Thanks.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “You do realize Mountain isn’t mad at you, right?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

Cirrus gave him a deadpan look. “I do know that, because I actually talked to him today. You should try it sometime.”

Dew frowned, something uneasy settling in his chest. “What did he say?”

Cirrus sighed again, her voice softer now, losing its edge. “He’s worried about you, Dew. That’s why he keeps looking at you. He doesn’t  care that you hit him—he just wants to know why you’re avoiding him like the plague.”

Dew’s breath hitched, guilt clawing at his ribs.

He had been so sure Mountain was angry. So sure that staying away was the right call.

But what if he had been wrong?

Cirrus must have seen the realization hit, because she nudged his shoulder—gentler this time. “Go talk to him, Dew,” she said, and for once, there was no teasing, no bite to her words. Just quiet insistence. “Before you drive yourself insane.”

Dew swallowed hard, his mind spinning, but deep down, he already knew she was right.

So, before he could talk himself out of it, he took a shaky breath—

Dew had wandered aimlessly through the abbey, his steps slow and uncertain. The weight of everything—the guilt, the worry, the constant feeling that he had done something horribly wrong—hung heavily on his shoulders. He couldn’t stay away forever, but he couldn’t bring himself to face Mountain either.

His heart ached with each passing moment, and he just needed something familiar, something safe.

When he finally found it, the warmth of the fire flickered from the hearth in one of the common rooms. The glow cast soft, inviting shadows on the stone walls, and the crackle of the fire was like a gentle whisper in the quiet room. He hesitated in the doorway, a twinge of uncertainty making him pause. But the warmth, the soft hum of comfort in the air—it pulled him in.

He stepped closer, his body instinctively seeking out the familiar warmth of the fire, a small, hidden part of him craving the comfort it offered. The flames danced brightly, their warmth sinking into his skin, and Dew felt his tension ease just a fraction.

He curled up near the edge of the hearth, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. The fire crackled, the room’s stillness settling around him like a heavy blanket. He closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out the heaviness in his chest.

His breathing hitched as something sharp squeezed at his heart again. The guilt. The fear.

His mind raced, and he found himself sinking lower, smaller, as if something inside him was craving the safety of his younger self—the time when things were simpler, when he didn’t have to carry the burden of his own mistakes. His body seemed to respond on its own, a wave of vulnerability rushing over him.

And then, just like that, he was younger.

His chest felt tight as tears sprang to his eyes, his breathing growing faster and more erratic. He was small again, so small and overwhelmed, his body trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t understand. His hands shook as they clutched his legs tighter, his knees pulled up to his chest in a desperate attempt to feel safe.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and before he could stop it, the floodgates opened. He buried his face into his knees, muffling the quiet sobs that wracked through his body.

He couldn’t stop it. The flood of emotion, the overwhelming wave of insecurity, guilt, and fear—it all just spilled out.

His mind kept repeating the same thing, over and over: I hurt Mountain. I hurt Mountain. I hurt him.

The fire crackled softly, but all Dew could hear was the pounding of his heart, the quiet sobs that refused to be held back, and the gnawing feeling that he had messed up beyond repair.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered to no one in particular, his voice small and weak, like he was a child again. “I didn’t mean to hurt him… I just wanted to be… be good.”

His shoulders shook with each sob, the young part of him just wanting someone to fix it, to tell him it was okay, to make it right. He didn’t know how to do it himself.

And just as his sobs began to quiet, a soft, steady presence entered the room. The familiar scent of Mountain—warm and comforting—filled the space, and Dew felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to face him, not like this, not when he was so small and broken inside.

But then, a gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Dew’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Hey, Dew.”

It was Mountain’s voice, low and soothing, as always, full of the kindness Dew didn’t deserve.

Dew’s whole body tensed, but he couldn’t fight the sob that wracked through him. He finally lifted his tear-streaked face, his wide eyes searching Mountain’s as if looking for any sign of anger, any sign that he wasn’t forgiven.

But Mountain’s expression was soft—gentle, even. He knelt down beside Dew, careful not to crowd him, giving him space. His hand remained on Dew’s shoulder, comforting and steady.

“I’m not mad at you,” Mountain murmured, his voice like the warmth of the fire, soothing the raw edges of Dew’s panic. “You’re okay, Dew. You didn’t hurt me. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Dew’s tears only seemed to fall harder at the reassurance, the kindness that filled the space between them. He didn’t know what to do with it. His emotions, his fear, they had been too big for him to carry alone.

“I’m sorry,” Dew whispered through his tears, his voice small and shaky. “I didn’t mean to—hurt you… I just… I just—”

Mountain gently pulled Dew into his arms, wrapping him in warmth, and for a moment, Dew felt like he was back to being small and safe, curled up in his arms like nothing else mattered. His sobs began to quiet as the overwhelming feeling of safety wrapped around him, the warmth of Mountain’s embrace washing away the fears that had been holding him hostage.

“You didn’t hurt me, Dew,” Mountain said softly. “You never could.”

Dew let himself collapse into the comfort of Mountain’s arms, letting the tears flow freely, knowing that, for once, it was okay to be this small, this vulnerable. Mountain wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe—just maybe—he could let go of the fear that had been suffocating him.

For now, that was enough.

He closed his eyes, the quiet of the room lulling him into a space of peace. He felt small again, so small, like the weight of the world had lifted off his tiny shoulders. The overwhelming flood of emotions faded, leaving only the warmth and safety of the moment.

The sobs stopped altogether now, replaced by something softer, something that felt more like a need for comfort than a cry for help. Dew let his body go limp in Mountain’s arms, his hands now clutching at Mountain’s shirt like a small child seeking reassurance.

He felt the instinct to curl up even further, to make himself smaller, to let the security of Mountain’s embrace shield him from everything else. His thumb found its way to his mouth, a soothing gesture from childhood, and he sucked on it absentmindedly, his eyes half-lidded, unable to fully focus on anything but the warmth he felt in this moment.

Mountain didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply held Dew as he was, letting the ghoul’s body relax against his own, feeling the smaller form trembling just slightly, still caught in the remnants of his emotions. Mountain’s hand continued to stroke Dew’s back, a calming rhythm, never once pulling away, always offering comfort. He knew what Dew needed now more than anything: patience.

Dew’s breathing slowed, growing steadier as he sank deeper into the regression. The room around him felt distant, the fire’s warmth still crackling gently beside them, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the steady presence of Mountain, his solid warmth, his quiet, unshakable support.

His mind, his thoughts, everything about him started to dissolve into a soft, dreamlike state as he regressed fully into the comfort of the moment. His body, still nestled against Mountain, felt so small, so innocent, like a child once again—free from the heavy weight of worry, free from guilt and fear. He could let go now. There was no need to hold onto anything anymore.

“Mounty” Dew whispered softly, his voice muffled in the warmth of Mountain’s chest, barely above a breath. “I feel… safe.”

Mountain’s arms tightened around Dew gently, the promise of safety and protection evident in every movement. “You always will be, Dew. You’re always safe with me.”

[littlerainyghoul]

Please forgive me if this is unwanted or too personal of an ask, but I just wanted to say-

It's okay to take breaks. It's okay to need time, to need space. You don't owe anyone here anything, and you deserve to take time for yourself for as long as you need. Please don't feel bad or obligated to apologize because of it; what's most important is that you're taking care of yourself the best you can.

Drink some water, get a snack, take some meds if you have any/need to, and be gentle with yourself. Everything's gonna be okay!

Op this is so sweet <3 Thank you for being gentle and understanding <3

[littlerainyghoul]

Could we get a little sickfic with regressed Aurora?

Again, i am super sorry for how long this took. It took me sooo long to get into the mindset i needed to write this again.

To be honest with you, I'm a little regressed myself as I'm writing this so it's likely reflected. As always, you can find this on AO3, but do bear in mind there are things not suitable for littles, but I will keep the two separate :)

Baby Aurora’s Sniffly Cuddle Time

Regressed Aurora and Caregiver Papa Copia

Aurora didn’t feel good. Not even a tiny bit.

Her head was all fuzzy-wuzzy, her throat felt all scratchy like mean sandpaper, and her nose was stuffy and sniffly. It was awful. No fun at all. She had tried curling up in her bed with her stuffed kitty, tried hugging her blankets super duper tight, but nothing made her feel better.

So she did the only thing that made sense—she went to find Papa.

She toddled her way down the hall, her bunny slippers making little shuffly noises against the floor. Every step felt super heavy, like she was walking through a big squishy swamp. Her little arms wrapped around her stuffed kitty, and she let out a tiny sniffly whimper as she pushed open the door to Papa’s study.

Papa was sitting in his big cozy chair, reading one of his big books. His funny little reading glasses were perched on his nose, and his big fluffy coat was wrapped around his shoulders like a warm hug. But the second he looked up and saw her, his eyebrows scrunched all worried-like, and he closed his book right away.

“Oh, tesorina,” he murmured, his voice all soft and gentle. “What’s the matter, little one?”

Aurora sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with her fist. “Feel bad,” she mumbled, her voice all wobbly and sleepy.

Papa’s face got even more concerned. “Oh, poverina.” He opened his arms, and Aurora didn’t waste a single second—she climbed right into his lap, snuggling up against his chest like a sleepy little kitten.

“There, there,” Papa murmured, wrapping his arms around her all nice and snug. His big gloved hand started rubbing slow, warm circles against her back. “You’re all warm, piccolina. You have a little fever, don’t you?”

Aurora just let out a teeny-tiny whimper and nuzzled closer, pressing her nose into his robes. “Mmhm,” she mumbled, her words all mushy. “Don’ like it.”

“Oh, I know, dolcezza,” Papa cooed, rocking her just a little. “Papa’s got you now. You just rest, my sweet.”

She let out a tiny, sleepy purr, her little body melting against him. His heartbeat was all slow and steady, like a lullaby just for her. He smelled nice too, all warm and safe, like incense and cinnamon and something soft, like honey.

For a little while, he just held her, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head every now and then. It made her feel all warm and floaty, like she was wrapped up in a big, soft cloud.

But then Papa hummed, tilting his head down to look at her. “I think maybe some juice would help, tesorina. Would you like some?”

Aurora scrunched up her nose. “‘M not hungry.”

Papa chuckled, giving her back a gentle pat. “Juice is not food, silly thing. It will help you feel better, I promise.”

Aurora thought about it for a second. Juice was kinda yummy. And Papa never tricked her, not ever.

“…Wha’ kind?” she asked, peeking up at him with big sleepy eyes.

Papa smiled, reaching over to grab the little sippy cup he always kept on his desk just for her. He unscrewed the lid and poured some juice from the fancy glass bottle he always had, then held it up for her to see.

“Mela,” he said. “Sweet apple. Your favorite, sì?”

Aurora let out a teeny, happy hum. Apple juice was her favorite.

Papa held the cup up to her lips, and she took a small, slow sip. The juice was all cool and sweet and made her throat feel a little less scratchy. She let out a tiny sigh and took another sip, Papa watching her the whole time with soft, gentle eyes.

“There we go,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Bravissima, tesoro. That will help.”

Aurora yawned, her eyes already starting to close again as she cuddled back into his chest. “Stay wif you?” she mumbled, her voice all sleepy and small.

Papa tucked her in even closer, wrapping his big fluffy coat around her like an extra blanket. “Of course, little one. You stay right here with Papa.”

Aurora let out one last, teeny little purr before she drifted off, all safe and warm and cozy in Papa’s arms.