This is an Age Regression Blog. A place for me to sit when in a childlike mindset and babble about whatever is on my mind at the time. Handle with Care!
Stuff abouts Me.
Name: Lopebun, Lopebus.
Nickname(s): Lope, Bun, Bubba
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Little Age: 1-12? I usually define it as `Infant, Toddler, or Kid`, though.
Petre: N/A (Furry, not a Pet Regressor).
(Extra Info Below!)
Boundries.
Petnames?: Yes. Masc Preference.
Roleplay/Touch?: Yes. *Huuuugs*
Discuss Pet Regression?: Yes.
Discuss Padded(Diapers) Regression?: Sure!
Swearing: Don't care, speak however you like lol
Minour Interact?: Preferably 16+. I am 19, so talking to people who are like... 13 is a bit uncomfortable.
Discuss Impure/Vent Regression?: Depends heavily on the topics involved.
Discuss NSFW, Sexulization, etc: No. I prefer to avoid anything to do with NSFW theme while in headspace.
Discuss Ageplay, AB/DL, DD/LG, etc: No, thank you! I'm not into that sort of kink and do not consent to my regression being seen as kinky!
Politics: No.
Regressed Me
- I like playing video games, drawing, colouring, reading, and listening to music!
- I tend to take naps and just chill, not wanting to do too much thinking.
Idk how to explain this, but this is gonna be more serious, even if it doesn't entirely seem like it to others.
Warning(s): Vaguelly Discussing the response to Trauma, Cursing
This is a Barbie Dreamhourse (no shit-). For context, I live with two roommates. We moved in with each other at a quite young age due to desperation to get the hell out of our parents homes for different reasons. I was 18, and my other roommates were 20 and 21, respectively. We bought the dollhouse mostly as a joke, and as a way to cope.
"We're adults now. We can buy whatever we want without judgement!" We all wanted a dollhouse as kids, but couldn't due to financial issues and family. So, as dumb teenagers with freewill and, at the time, no semblemce/understanding of money, we bought the dollhouse with the intention to play with it.
We had a blast setting it up for the first little bit, but it more or less sat in the corner of our living room.
Time jump. Trauma.
I don't want to get too much into it, but the TLDR of it was we let the wrong person and her pedophile (or, sorry, "Hebephile". Still fucking gross.) of a boyfriend into our house. She used the dollhouse a lot, we let her, and she enjoyed it, but also kind of stopped us from using it.
Long story short, it ended with us kicking her and her bf out. Once they were out of the house, however, we still felt the intense negitive energy she brought with her. Especially with the dollhouse, causing us to take almost a fucking year to recover and process what the hell had even happened. But with this, we kind of shoved the dollhouse out of sight to pretend it didn't exist.
At one point, we discussed getting rid of it. "We barely used it anyway". But we still felt hesitant. It's *our* dollhouse. We wanted it so badly. So why can't we just use it? My one roommate especially felt very violently about getting rid of it. "We can't. We're just giving up on it".
But alas, now it just sits in the spare bedroom. We haven't touched it since moving it for the 5th fucking time. I'm sick of seeing it covered in filth but remain untouched. I want to use it. I want to play with it. But the memory is still there. But I don't want those memories continuing to stop me from playing with it.
So, I wanna more or less record progress. I'm gonna spend as much time as possible cleaning it and all the small accessories. Redecorating it. Making it our dollhouse again. Idk if my roommates wanna join or do anything, but even if I'm the only one using it, I'm happy.
Sorry for the random trauma dump! This is just something that I've wanted to scream about for a while. I'm kind of hopeful for it. I'm excited to get my dollhouse back. Even though this whole things feels... overreactive? Idk. Trauma is weird.
AgeRe Fanfic - CoD:MW
Ao3 Link <- here if prefered
Word Count: 2350
Tags: Regressed - Simon"Ghost"Riley, Caregiver - John Price, Fluff
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Simon felt... weird.
Nothing horrible had happened, per say. It was just mistake after mistake, followed by irritating injuries like stubbing his toe and hitting his head on the doorframe. The final nail in the coffin was Ghost standing in Price's office as the captain rose his voice at him, not even by a lot, just a few decibals to let Ghost know he wasn't fucking around. Price was the captain, that was his job. So why did he feel so... weak, and pathetic, and strangely vulnerable. His emotions easily hid behind his mask, but that didn't stop the waver to his voice as he muttered a quiet "yes, sir". Price seemed startled by the weak sound of Ghost's voice, quirking a brow. His most terrifying soldier, cracking his voice to being scolded?
"What's wrong, soldier?"
"Nothing, I'll get right on it, captain."
"Negitive, come 'ere."
"No, I'm fi-"
"Simon."
"Yes, sir." Ghost tensed, walking closer to Price's desk, standing in front of the cross-armed man. Ghost easily had a few inches, maybe even a foot, over Price, yet he still seemed like a child cowering away from an angry parent three times their size.
"Speak, soldier. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Mm just tired."
"You're always tired, Lieutenant. Why is today different?"
"I... don't know. I'll be fine." Ghost reassured, struggling to make even the most basic eye contact.
Price shook his head, not believing Ghost for a second. Price let his arms drop, pacing around the table to stand closer to Ghost. The Lieutenant subconsciously backed away, his posture tense and defensive. Price shook his head, lifting a cautious hand, reaching for Ghost. The man was tense as a board, not wanting to run from his captain, but not wanting to risk being hit either. Eventually, Price managed to get close enough to lightly rest his hand on Ghost's shoulder, staring the man in the eye as Ghost kept his gaze at the wall past Price, the ceiling, Price's chest, the wall again, anywhere but Price's piercing eyes. The captain sighed, moving his hand toward Ghost's neck, causing the man to hold his breath.
"I won't hurt you, Simon. Just take a deep breath." John moved his hand up, lifting Ghost's signature balaclava. Simon's immediate instinct was to slap the man's hand and run, but for some unknown reason, possibly paralyzing fear, he completely froze. It only took a quick tug for the mask to be free, nothing but a thick layer of black eyeshadow around Simon's eyes to remind the world of his allies. Simon's breath trembled, a few scared tears drizzling from his eyes, smearing the make-up as it traced his cheek to his chin, gathering until gravity pulled it from its own weight to the floor.
"There you are. What's wrong, Simon? Come on, boy, talk to me." John lifted both hands, holding Simon's face, rubbing his right thumb along Simon's cheek-bone, swiping away a tear while further smearing the makeup.
"I don't- I just, feelings aren't- they're big and, and- everything's so- I... I don't know, I'm just... pathetic, and, and, I can't... I don't know!" Multiple different thoughts came out at once, cutting each other off and stumbling out. Being unable to properly formulate his thoughts and emotions into legible words did little to soothe his ever growing emotional outburst. His face scrunched into frustration, turning a harsh shade of embarrassed red as his teeth clenched together and his brow furrowed tight enough for deep crevices to form on his forehead. John said nothing for a while, giving Simon the chance to try and figure it out on his own, but after a solid 20 seconds of gibberish followed by tense, heavy breathing, John decided enough was enough.
"Too many big emotions for that little head of yours?" John asked, his voice slipping to a slightly gentle and higher-pitched tone. A tone that one would use towards a child. Simon winced, sniffling and breathing unevenly, eventually nodding. He hated to admit it, it was humiliating, but he felt small. Not a man in his 40s, but a child. Maybe even a toddler. He whimpered out an apology as he covered his face with his arm, trying to wipe the tears away with his sleeve, but John immediately shook his head while ticking his tongue with his teeth tight together. "Do not apologise for being human, Simon. It's okay to cry. Come, let's get'cha cleaned up, and bring yea somewhere a little more private."
Simon nodded, following John close, hand in hand, as the older man gently guided and pulled Simon into the bathroom suite of his office. He sat Simon on the toilet, lid closed, and grabbed a tissue, holding it to Simon's nose.
"Blow." Price commanded softly. Simon whined, taking the tissue and lightly swatting Price's hand away, blowing his own nose. Price huffed in amusement, gathering makeup-remover and an old cloth he didn't care about while Simon cleared his sinuses.
Once the tissue was disposed of, Price stood in front of Simon, pouring a generous amount of makeup-remover on the cloth.
"Close your eyes, please." Price asked, inching the cloth closer to Simon's face. The boy huffed, turning his face away. "Simon. Come on, you can't keep that eye stuff on all night, it'll soil yer pillow."
Simon continued to huff defiantly, but eventually turned his face to look at Price. The older man smiled as he quickly started wiping away the gunk on Simon's face, taking advantage of the momentary obedience.
It only took a moment at most to get most of the shadow off. There was still a light haze over Simon's skin, but the boy was getting restless and it wasn't gonna come off even with the harshest elbow grease, so Price decided it was good enough, tossing the rag in the laundry basket and offering a hand to pull Simon off the toilet.
Simon took the hand firmly, but whined once he stood, his legs feeling like jelly. Price quickly hooked an arm behind Simon's back, keeping him upright.
"Alright, kiddo, let's go to my room, yea?" Price offered, walking Simon out of the room, back to the office. The duo walked to the opposite wall, opening a door to enter the captain's personal barracks. Price let go of Simon's hand, heading for the closet where he kept all his soldier's most personal secrets and belongings. He opened the door and quickly glanced around to find the box labeled "Simon", grabbing and pulling it out with practiced speed.
John turned, jumping a little once he caught sight of Simon. The soldier was a lot closer to Price than expected. Price thought the boy would have wandered to the centre of the room, but nope, he had remained shoulder to shoulder with Price the whole time. Price laughed a little, nodding his head over to the empty space of the room, politely guiding the boy further away from the closet. Price crouched, grunting as his old bones popped, not pleased with having to bend. He plopped onto the floor with a sigh, opening the box to dig for a special plushie and a few other supplies. Price gently grasped the plush, a dirty lamb with coarse fur from years of love. He held the plush and looked up to Ghost, who was still standing, staring at Price silently.
"You can sit, Simon. Come'ere." Price patted the floor next to him, urging Ghost to join him on the floor. Ghost whined, but nodded, lowering to the floor, his eyes still focused on Price like a prey to predator. Price frowned, sighing. "Untense your jaw and shoulders. You'll end up with more grey hair than me."
Price tried to be playful, but Ghost still seemed so tense and anxious. He felt so small and frail, and it scared him, causing him to refuse to truly "let go". Price stopped laughing, frowning once again. He shook his head a little, clicking his tongue.
"You put too much stress on yourself, Simon. You made mistakes, yes, but you're only human. It's not fair to let those mistakes wreck your whole mood for the day. Nobody is gonna hit you for making a mistake, Simon. You're safe here." Price attempted to reassure, staring at the vulnerable man. The vulnerable boy hiding behind those glossy eyes was trying to reach out, but Ghost remained stubborn.
"Lamby needs a hug, take him." Price urged, holding the plush up while his other hand dug through the box to figure out what other supplies he should use. Simon reached out, grasping the toy. He visibly untensed, staring into the eyes of a well-loved friend. His thumb rubbed the lamb's paw, a slight crinkle heard. He remained more or less motionless, starring and rubbing the lamb, stuck in a sort of fuzzy trance until a calloused hand grasped his jaw. A rough index and thumb pinched either side of Simon's jaw, forcing his tight jaw open, ultimately causing his lips to part as well. Simon inhaled sharply.
"Ah! Sto-" Simon couldn't argue before a pacifier was pushed into his mouth. Simon paused for a minute, taking a moment to process what was in his mouth.
"I was gettin' worried you would crack a tooth with how tight your jaw was. So, there you go." Price stared at Simon with his usual friendly smile. Simon stared at Price, betrayed, yet calm. His heart was pounding, he was shaking. But he wasn't in danger. Price crouched, offering a hand for Simon to take. "I know, I shouldn't have grabbed you so roughly. I'm sorry. But, I was worried about your little teeth. Next time I'll ask, okay?"
Simon stared at Price, reaching and holding his hand, letting Price rub his knuckles to help calm him down. This was better... Simon took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. The pacifier bobbed carefully, and eventually Simon nodded as if deciding this was okay for the time being. He reopened his eyes and glanced up to Price, staring at the older man. He let go of Price's hand, then crossed his arms and tapped his shoulders, a sign that Price grew to know as Simon's way of demanding a blanket.
"Do you want your baby blankie or the other one?" Price asked as he stared back to Simon's box of items, digging through it. He waited for an answer, then remembered that Simon was muted from the pacifier, so he glanced at the boy expecting some sort of motion or sign of what he wanted. Instead, he was just met with a blank stare. The boy had really dropped...
Price stared back for a moment, before eventually grabbing both. He handed the tiny blanket to Simon, then wrapped the other around his shoulder. Simon seemed pleased, making an odd "merp" noise, snuggling into each blanket and his plushie. Price sighed, relieved to see Simon so calm and happy. The captain, or in this case: caregiver, stood up and gently took the box away, putting it back in the closet and instead grabbed a different box labeled messily as "Toys" in crayon, marker and whatever else his boys could find to decorate the box. Price gently dropped the box next to Simon, flipping the lid open for him.
"Do you wanna play with anything?" John asked softly, picking up random toys and showing them to the boy. Wood blocks, figurines, colouring books and a large bag of crayons, soft sensory cubes, foam matt pieces, anything a kid could ask. But Simon just stared at the box, watched Price grab a toy and put it back, seeming more interested watching Price move around than actually playing with the toys. John eventually caught onto this and just chuckled.
"Not interested in toys today? That's alright, Soap'll probably tear the box apart later if his solo mission goes as well as I think it will." John stood up, speaking with a sense of sarcasm, groaning a bit. "Do you want to be held? Do you wanna just sit and stare? What do you wanna do, kiddo?"
Simon stared at John for a while, until eventually staring off at the wall, fidgeting with Lamby, then looking back at the older man. Price hung his head for a second in defeat, laughing a little.
"Well, that doesn't tell me a whole heck of a lot, kid." Price crouched down, holding his hands out. "I have paperwork, do you wanna sit in my lap while I do that?"
Simon didn't give an answer, but didn't stop Price from placing his hands under his pits and lifting him either. John groaned, often forgetting that it isn't easy to lift his boys like a babe. He had to readjust, putting Simon back down for a moment and instead scooping an arm under Simon's bum and using the other to hold him to his chest.
"1...2...3!" With a huff, John stood up, taking a moment to balance with the added weight. Once he could ensure he wasn't about to collapse, he quickly walked to the dinky table he called a desk in his room. He pulled the wheeled-chair out with his foot, then quickly sat down with a large huff, letting his arms relax.
Simon adjusted a little, getting comfortable on Price's lap, tucking his head under Price's chin. Once both were comfortable, Price pulled over his laptop, pushing it open and quickly typing in the same password that could access his bank and social-media account. Tapping the trackpad a couple of times eventually opened a long, boring document, but at that point Simon had turned the laptop into background noise, more focused on listening to Price breath, listening to the ventilation system flow, listening to any other small noises he could pick up. He felt at peace. Why was he even upset earlier? That doesn't matter now.
All that mattered right now was the soft texture of his blankie, the gentle thump of Price's heartbeat, and the heaviness of his eyes as he drifted off to a fitless sleep.
I wanna draw I wanna play games I wanna dance and listen to music I wanna run around and scream (positively) I wanna play in the mud and be messy I wanna go to the park I wanna watch cartoons
hehe comfort piece, really missed the borders i used to do, thought i should bring them back!!!!!! reminder please don't use my ocs for profile decoration (pfps, headers, etc!) fanart is ok though!
Can we lay on the ground on our tummies and colour together with the TV playing? Oo! O! What if we finger-painted? Promie I won't get it in the carpet again.
playdate where we don't really talk a whole lot but just coexist cause we're both very anxious or don't have lots of social energy but still like having someone else there that gets it.
