- uses kids products to help motivate showers, brushing teeth and brushing hair
- cocoons themself in plushies and blankets, staying in bed all day and barely sleeping at night
- uses kids dishes and nastolgic meals when struggling with low appetite
- uses a sticker chart and reward system to try and feel excited and productive about chores
- cling to fictional cgs from comfort shows
- use diaps when they are too tired to get up to potty
- whine for a cg they don't have
- struggle to remember to eat, shower, change clothes, brush their hair or teeth or take medicine
- struggle to get excited about their interests
- lack the energy and/or time to regress
- struggle with nightmares and use their stuffies to comfort then
- only have the energy to be a completely dependent baby and nothing more
- who are both too scared to ask to be cared for, but also too uncomfortable to regress alone
- who feel a ton of shame, anxiety or guilt during and/or after regressing
- who can only age dream due to intrusive thoughts or anxiety
- who rely on regression completely for getting out of bed in the morning and falling asleep at night
been so depressed recently so I thought I'd share this. I truly could go on and on about how my regression is integral to my depression. I hope some of you can feel seen from this !
Formative childhood experiences are so fucking wild, in retrospect.
I let a bunch of 8-year-old schoolchildren decide for me whether I was "weird" or "normal." And I believed them FOR DECADES. Children I would not trust to order a fucking pizza!
It was a mentally ill 14-year-old me that decided I was fundamentally unlovable and would always have to scramble desperately to provide enough value to make people like me. I didn't even have a learner's license! I knew absolutely fuck-all about psychology! But somehow I was qualified enough to lay down a core belief that has haunted me ever since.
Like, ok boomer babies. Y'all decided some objectively wild shit 30 years ago. That should not play a starring role in my life decisions today.
Robert was having a bad day - or more specifically a bad week. You could tell it was coming, the way that he started sleeping all day but throughout the week it just got worse and worse and at least three times you had to change the sheets because he had refused to get out of bed even to go to the washroom
You didn’t mind, you knew that sometimes things got like this, and that it was best you didn’t push him. pushing him would only result in this depressive episode lasting longer, if not for anything but sheer defiance. It got all the way till late Sunday night, and you had started to worry that this episode was going to last for more than this week. That is… Until Robert slowly pulled the blanket back from over his head and peered up at you with empty eyes.
“I want you,” he says, barely above a whisper, voice from having not talked all week. You open your mouth to question exactly what he means but he doesn’t give you the chance to answer. He almost flinches like the sound of your voice might hurt him. When he’s sure you won’t speak, he grabs onto your wrist, tight and bruising, guiding your hand down under the blankets to his soft cock. “You make me feel good, I wanna feel good,”
The desperate pleading in his voice is what makes you wrap your fingers around his cock. You would do anything to make your boy feel better and if this is what he wants, you would do it, even with his pushing his face into your neck, where you both lay on the bed, smelling faintly of dried piss and body odor.
Rob whines softly against your skin and bites his lips so he stops any noise that might make its way out.
At that, you began to stroke him slowly. As pleasing as it was to have him hot and hard in your hand, you were still so very worried about hurting him or upsetting him in some way.
Robert lets out a shaky breath, hot against the crook of your neck. "Yeah, that's good; that's really good, baby." He breathes quietly, eyes fluttering shut.
“Whatever you need, darlin’,” you murmured and leaned over to kiss his cheek. You didn’t speed up your touches. While Robert had asked to cum, your goal was still aimed more toward supplying him with comfort and pleasure. You were in no hurry.
Robert isn't trying to rush it either; he isn't bucking his hips up or pushing at you verbally. He's content to half sit and half lay there, panting softly and soaking up the steady strokes of pleasure.
“You’re doing so good,” you murmured softly, praising. You paused what you were doing to rub over the head of his cock slowly, gathering up precum to help the glide as you began to stroke him slow and steady once more.
Robert shivers as he whimpers softly, and his panting picks up just a fraction at the newer sensation of the smoother glide.
Sshh,” you remind softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. The only thing that can be heard in the room is his pants and the muffled sound of skin sliding against slick skin, slow and rhythmic.
"Feels so good." He murmurs, careful to keep quiet, still not asking or pushing to speed up. He turns his neck as much as he can to bury his face back in the crook of your neck and starts to kiss there, wanting to muffle any noise and also give you some pleasure.
Tipping your head up, you automatically shifted to accommodate Rob, humming softly at the feel of his mouth, letting your eyes close as you kept up the slow strokes, root to tip and back. In the quiet of the night and the softness brought on by having Robert close and relaxed in his head, You let yourself go as well. All that mattered was Robby was against you and the slow glide of his cock in your hand. You lost track of time like this, just enjoying that you could give Robert such soft and gentle pleasures.
Robert isn't sure how much time passes; 20 minutes, maybe? An hour? He feels like his brain is half asleep, but he feels a tight curl in his stomach and pulls away from you. "I… think I'm gonna cum."
You don't stop moving, just hum softly and smile. “If that is what you want right now, then cum. If not, I can stop and wait until you are ready again.”
Robert nods; typically, he would never turn down the opportunity to be edged, the resulting orgasms were always the best he's ever had, but he's feeling too fuzzy and wonders if this was a wrong choice and if he should've taken the cuddles instead.
“Use your words, darlin’,” You remind him, pressing a kiss to his temple. Pushing just a little since he seems so responsive.
"I want to cum, please." He answers softly, reaching over to slide one hand up your shirt just to feel.
You nod and kiss him gently, continuing the slow and steady strokes, the slide now easy from all the precum he had leaked. You shifted when Robert tugged on your sleeve. You didn’t stop stroking, just slipped your other hand down to cup the head of Robert's cock so you didn’t make a mess and end up having to do another load of laundry.
It only takes a few more strokes before Rob shouts a muffled moan into his hand, fingers curled around his mouth, spilling thick white ropes into your hand. “Sshh,” You murmur against his temple. “That’s it, baby. Give me all you have…” You stroked Rob through each wave of his orgasm, milking him of every drop of cum.
Toes curling under the blanket, Robert shivers as you milk him. He felt good, of course, he did, but it wasn't the blackout knock of pleasure that came after a really intense scene. He wasn't unsatisfied; it just wasn't the satisfaction that he was used to, specifically with you.
Pulling your hands away before he tipped over into overstimulated, you pressed a kiss to Robert's jaw before you sat up and barely hesitated before you lifted your hand to your mouth and began to clean it of the cum.
After, you grabbed a tissue and finished cleaning your hands off. Then, you reached out to cup Robert's cheek gently, thumb stroking.
"Think you can rest now, sweet boy?" you asked with a soft smile. You knew you weren't out of the woods yet, but at least he felt better for now, even if it didn't last.
-> I adore everyone who reads and reblogs, ❤ if you like this, please think about showing a little extra support. I would love to be able to get groceries for my dad🥰 <-
Try putting yourself in Jax's shoes //im gonna be sick
Imagine: your loved ones, your family, suddenly died. Everything is over, no one is left. And you are so shocked that your brain blocks this memory and all emotions — it shuts down so as not to explode.
Nothing makes sense anymore; meaning died with them. Everything around you becomes empty; you feel neither good nor bad emotions. The world stopped at that moment. The only thing that exists is distraction, in which you have to run, fight, roleplay and complete tasks.
And you dive into it very actively: your brain thinks only about what is happening at this second. It helps.
When this distraction breaks down or becomes monotonous, you get tired, sad and angry. Without distraction all you feel is pain in your chest and deadly fatigue.
At some point during the distraction, you run with someone on the team. They are fun, interesting, and you work well together. They are so similar to your family that you feel at home and safe again. Calm.
And then you take first place together and this person hugs you.
The contact brings you back to your senses and all the memories come flooding back. You are still emotionally numb, but you realize that positive feelings are associated with fear, horror, unbearability and pain on a subconscious level.
The closeness is comparable to a forest fire, to the end of the world all over again. There is emptiness and deadly silence before your eyes.
You involuntarily break free, pushing the person away from you. Muffled feelings, like a crack in the ice, begin to surface, and you are terrified.
The person tries to make contact again, but you are no longer there, it is not you. It has not been you for a long time.
You try to escape from a danger that cannot be escaped, which is not even a danger. You scream, you shout insults, just to drive these feelings away.
You sit down in a secluded place. The pain does not go away, it drips and drips onto your inflamed brain, stinging more and more each time.
...
You can no longer keep it inside: you rush into the bathroom and turn on the water to calm your mind. This day has affected you, keeping up appearances is now not only difficult, it has ceased to matter.
Of course, you still try to squeeze something out of yourself, but everyone, even those detached, is beginning to notice that something is wrong.
This hole is bigger than you, heavier. You completely distance yourself, existing by inertia.
This tether to the departed refashions grief into a strange, enduring intimacy.
You are as if in a delirium: death beckons, it seems comfortable and soothing. You realize that it has long been more attractive than reality.
It inspired me to paint James Clark Ross in his later years. It feels ironic how everyone remembers the heroic polar explorer, yet forget the man broken by unimaginable tragedy.
I tried inking as it felt like a good medium to convey the chaos and grief.
PS: There is some Easter egg hidden in the dark and messy room
Edit: I realised I posted this on his birthday and I feel horrible.
Summary: How is it to date Flame Reaver! Phainon in a modern au setting (o゜▽゜)o☆
Content: GN!Reader, SFW
Note: If anyone wants a smut/NSFW version of these headcanons, I am more than willing to do that (￣y▽￣)╭ Ohohoho….. but after my exams… Also, I'm writing this during lecture, so if something is a bit incoherent, that's why 😅
Edit: Due to internet issues, I posted this before it was ready, so if anyone seen this, no u didn't 🔫
Warning(s): hints of depression, light angst, and tooth-rotting fluff (✿◡‿◡)
Congratulations! You have an equivalent of a wet cat as your partner, and you said you can fix him.
Jokes aside, FR isn't a talkative person, and he will bottle up everything.
He has gone through a lot in his life, scarring him both physically and mentally.
And oooohhh boy, a lot is going on in that noggin of his.
It will take a lot of patience and coaxing for him to open up, but if you overdo it, he will shut you out.
In other words, it will take you some time to find the perfect balance of those two so that he doesn't find it overbearing and starts sharing his feelings and thoughts.
Once in a while, he'll have moments where he just completely shuts down.
Guide him to sit down and give him a moment, he'll be back to "normal" in around half an hour.
Sometimes, during those episodes, FR will be able to "speak", but the words will be spaced out a lot and a bit incoherent
Because of the physical scars that are noticeable on him, his rather unwilling to go somewhere out on dates.
Unless it's somewhere secluded.
Or cute home dates 🥺
From other physical aspects besides scars, he also lost sight in one eye and has issues with mobility in his right arm.
Pls don't get angry when something falls out of his hand, his really trying.
He also appreciates it a lot that when u are showing him something, you do it from the side of his working eye.
It's the little things that matter the most.
Quality time and physical touch are a big thing for FR.
Kiss his scars and he will melt (and probably cry a bit).
He gives the warmest hugs, both metaphorically and literally.
Good luck sleeping with him in the same bed during summer, the man is a walking furnace.
Loves when you wear his clothes, especially hoodies.
He gets self-conscious very easily, especially when u two are out somewhere in public.
Show him that he has nothing to be self-conscious about.
