Yes! He does! He really really likes Sleepytime (me too but it's my second favorite heheh). He probably watches it before bed to ease his anxiety about sleeping :3
My actual favorite episode is Stories, though that may change cuz I actually haven't seen all of Bluey yet
Tween regressor Grace trying to be rebellious to get a rise out of his caregiver as someone who was never a rebellious teen. (He's so bad at being 'rebellious' that it's honestly cute and not even deserving of punishment.)
Cg Eva Stratt who was an actual rebellious teen just watching and thinking it's rather sweet, probably not the reaction Grace wants 🤣🥺
Yes oh my goodness xD
Tween Grace getting all giggy because he's rearranged all the silverware so that the forks are where the spoons typically are. It's honestly more of a minor inconvenience than something rebellious but, Stratt lets him believe he's being rebellious!
Whereas actual teen Stratt was stealing the nun's/minister's cigarettes and smoking them in the attic of the church with her choir friends. So Grace gets kinda pouty when instead of Stratt sighing in annoyance, he gets her softly smiling and her eyes crinkling from holding back a cooing laughter xD
[cw: implied body dysphoria, murder, cannibalism, details of injuries, implied gun wounds/shots]
----------------------🎧-🎤----------------------
Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune
For merely dreaming we were snow, mmh-mmh
A siren sounds like the goddess
Who promises endless apologies of paradise
And only she can make it right
So things are different tonight
- Dream Sweet in Sea Major
{ ---------------------🎙️-📻-------------------- }
Birds chirped, the sun barely rising above the horizon, a gentle orange and pink in the sky, signaling to all life that it was the start of a new day.
The glow cascaded onto trees and leaves, making soft shadows in their presence, all the way up to a small, run-down wooden hut.
Alastor laid around in this little wooden hut, the exact home he truly had for a few years now, and he prepared a little meat pie, cooking it over a fire.
He could feel his mouth watering, with all of this talk of how awful the meat in supermarkets was getting and the putrid substitutes he’d heard of and tasted, it was…exciting to taste something pleasurable for once!
Alastor took a step back from the fire, carefully taking off a vest he’d been wearing and laying it on an arm chair, going back into the kitchen to wash his hands.
At least he had water in here, not many people could say that.
Back into his lounge, he sat back down, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, and taking a long sip, listening to the fire crackle and crisp up his dinner.
He carefully adjusted his leg.
CRUNCH.
What could that possibly be?
Looking down at his feet, he’d noticed a very porous and brittle bone below. Hm, must’ve rolled there accidentally. The bone shards were spread everywhere, some parts still whole, but others were entirely cracked.
“What a surprise! Hello again, dear!”
He set down the glass and picked up a portion of the bone, taking it over to the water and washing it.
“I wonder if you’d taste good as a little sprinkle on top…we could always put you to good use, shouldn’t we? After all, you were, truly, very useless in life.”
So he crushed it in his hands, to the best of his ability, and sprinkled it atop the pie, beginning to laugh at the thought; the thought of being able to have a crunchy meat pie; how appetizing!
Oh, it must taste excellent! He had very high hopes for this!
He laughed as hard as he could, finishing sprinkling before wiping his hand on his trousers and sitting back to cackle a little more.
As the laughter died down, a new sound made its way into his ears; a rustle of leaves from the outside. Alastor peeked out the window, examining who was there.
It only seemed to be a small fawn, shaking on its legs, bleating out pitifully, wandering around nearby, bloodied.
There seemed to be no doe nearby, no mother or father for this fawn.
Why was it at his home?
…
He observed it, seeing as it continued to scan the place, not even seeming to notice the hut at all, or him for that matter.
‘Suppose he was hidden behind a pane of glass.
Then, the rustling stopped, and a deep shriek emitted from the creature.
The worrying part was how it stared at him now.
Begging, pleading, desperate for him.
With a begrudging groan, he grabbed a handful of raspberries and a cloth and kicked on a pair of shoes before walking out to the deer.
It didn’t run away, just approached before collapsing onto the floor.
Huh…
There appeared to be a massive gash across its ribs, appearing to be the work of some feral animal or a human, not a mere thorn in nature.
He put the raspberries down close to its mouth and gently pat the wound till no blood remained on the surface.
The fact it was still alive seemed to shake something in him.
How life can persevere through so much, truly it was fascinating.
Especially the human body! He could stab a man several times in the arm and he’d die quick, but the leg or parts of the torso seemed to have the slower and more painful side.
Seeing those victims squirm and shriek in pain, it must’ve lured plenty of animals to a next meal.
The fawn bleated at him again.
It nuzzled its head into his elbow.
“I am not your mother…off of me.”
He pulled the cloth away from the body, seeing how red it had become. Though, he’d certainly seen more bloodier tissues before.
The wound seemed…the least bit better.
He watched as the fawn finished the last raspberry, and he went to examine this injury further, but it bolted away.
…
The instincts only kicked in minutes later?
No wonder it was so wounded.
He went back inside, kicking the shoes off again, dumping the cloth into some water to soak, and sitting back down with his whiskey again, sipping it.
The smell of the meat pie and calcified bones burnt to a crisp; a delicately delicious smell according to him, and it all wavered through that singular room.
As he stated previously: at least she’d be put to a good use; in the few weeks he worked with her, she was almost like a child, especially for such an old lady, throwing temper tantrums over him “taking up her slots on the air”, threatening to get him arrested by releasing some sort of incriminating evidence against him [which he'd been quite good at hiding his crimes, she had nothing.].
Truly, it was unfortunate how she met an end like this, he did enjoy her apple pies and cooking show, to only a small extent.
At least nobody seemed to care when she vanquished off the air, hahaha!!
It must’ve been a good thing she got to die being baked into a very delicious pie, perhaps she would’ve loved to go out that very specific way!
Mmm…
Alastor carefully removed the pie from the heated fireplace, the edges of the crust were the slightest bit burnt, yet the rest was this perfect brown, crispy crust. The shavings of bone on top created an effect that made it seem like charcoal shavings from only the finest black salt found on the planet was perfectly dazzled on top.
Oh, wouldn’t his mother be proud?
He plated the delicious meal next to his whiskey.
As waited for it to cool, he inspected around his little area within the barriers of the room. Downwards, he spotted a tower made of bones and skulls.
It was a fun game he’d play when he was bored—stack everything together whilst mocking those “poor victims” last words to him. The shrieking, the sobbing, the snot that all poured out of their bodies…a putrid scene to many.
But Alastor was not “the many”.
…
Maybe the pie was cooled down enough to eat?
Alastor carefully picked it up and took a bite out of it, continuing to hold it in its casing.
Only after the bite did he realise his fingers were burning.
Steam escaped and burnt his upper lip slightly, and it was incredibly hot on the inside. He’d been eating his own flesh from within his mouth if it was only slightly hotter.
Though the taste? It was quite a luscious and savory taste, only a little hint of sweetness, and it had some specks of flavorful oil from the fat that had been on her body previously.
Even the crust was perfectly crispy, and having slight flakes peel off and spill down his chin. The bones added a perfect crunch to it, but their taste wasn’t the greatest considering they were burnt to its bone marrow.
But it was a meal, and one that would fill him up for quite a while.
{ ---------------------🎙️-🍼-------------------- }
Later that day, he’d managed to secure a new victim, slaughtered them and was on his way to disposing them, hoping that same fawn he’d helped earlier could get some food.
Though, as he dragged the body across nature’s floor, he’d heard rustling, men talking and the sound of a gun cocking.
…
He took a glance up to check his surroundings.
{ ---------------------📻-🍼-------------------- }
What…had happened?
He could feel a bullet going through his skull, but when he reached to check nothing was there—not even the sensation of a hole.
…
He could feel it emerging out the other side.
And then a headache began to appear.
But no ordinary headache, no…this one was absolutely torturous.
It felt as if he’d fallen asleep and woke up again, yet only for a second…
What was happening?
And everything in his body began to tingle and lose some sensation.
…
The pain became unbearable, it just immediately made his eyes wet.
….
Did he have to cry over pain? This was uncharacteristic of him. Alastor didn’t cry, he was a very…grown up…brave…boy…
Mama!!
Mama…mmmmama…where was mama to help him?
…
The crying lightened the pain.
…
Alastor glanced down at his body.
There was some dark…dusky…purpleish trousers, feet or shoes that were split like hooves, a baby pink vest with white strips…a white button-up shirt it appeared…and he could feel a bowtie close to it’s neck.
The body was thin, wasting away almost, a pressing force against the skin of his neck, was he growing an Adam’s apple? No, it must’ve been too big to be one; it felt the size of a small notebook in this throat was growing there. Some claws sharp and painted like blood. The skin around them was thin enough that he could see blood traveling by when he looked incredibly closely. He could even see his pulse!
…it was very fast.
He did also now notice how the ends of these sleeves were ruffles.
Why was it so lanky? Why was it so formal? Why was it so…big and…wrong?
This body…it…it didn’t feel correct…
Like…his skin had been stretched and pulled into this body…all the muscle from a smaller body was piled into this new one…clearly that old body wasn’t this size.
Why did he jaw hurt so much as well? Why did his cheeks feel stiff? Where was mommy?
Burning hot tears flowed down his cheeks, falling down fast enough to end up dripping onto his shirt and soaking it. His vision was so blurry, everything was just vague curves.
Allie choked out a loud sob and shoved a sleeve into his mouth, chewing down on it.
He leaned backwards, resting his head against a smooth, but bricked wall, thankfully it had no areas that could pinch his delicate skin.
Creak
“I’m sayin’, if there’s another rowdy sinner outside causing a ruckus, then we’ll have tomorrow night’s dinner sorted.”
A woman’s voice, some sort of southern ‘twange’ to it…he must’ve disturbed somebody by crying…her voice seemed familiar though.
Alastor had to get up and run right now.
He tried to pull himself onto his feet, clawing the wall as best he could and trying to push his feet under him.
Nothing worked.
Rustle.
He kicked his feet and chucked little bits of dirt.
Nothing.
Rustle.
He threw himself forward to get onto his hands and knees, tearing through the ground to try and gain his footing.
Alastor managed to crawl.
Rustle.
A force grabbed his shirt and yanked him straight back, no matter how deep he pushed his claws down.
“Who are you, mister?”
The same figure snapped him around and he was face-to-face with somebody.
A daunting lady, tall, scowling, glaring into his heart, dressed in a deep purple nighttime gown, skin pale and cold and her boney fingers curling around his arms. Eyes sucked cold of any life, blood drained from her very essence.
The sight make his skin crawl.
But the voice remained familiar…
Was this…
“Have I seen you before? You seem…”
She lifted up his chin, looked at his neck.
“…recognisable…”
She let his chin fall down into her palm and looked at his hair.
It couldn’t be…
Goddammit! This very woman was the same one he made a deal with, the same woman who downplayed his motivations as being nothing more than child’s play, the same woman who teased and mocked him over a damn radio…
He had to…no, why, needed to prove her wrong! He was not a mere child!!
“Tell me, what’s your name?”
She took her hands off him.
This was his moment!
“Ah…Al…Al-a-thor…”
…
What in hell.
His speech was all slurred and slow and…lispy…
That wasn’t…no, no, no!!
He could even see her mouth creak upwards, breath hitching and body stiffening.
“Oh-oh- Alastor?”
Allie nodded.
His nose began running again, his eyes watering…perhaps it was the pollen from around him…? If any…?
"You look quite upset Alastor. Transition from Earth to Hell still shaken ya'?"
He bit his cheek, trying to control the tears he could feel piling up.
“…Something else on your mind?”
The tears fell back out and the fawn began sobbing again, choking and sputtering out spit everywhere. It was…it was…why couldn’t he be loved already?!
“MMMUUUAAAAMMMYYY-!!”
Allie choked and spat out a multitude of saliva, reaching up and immediately going to hug her as tight as he could, gently nuzzling these claws into her outfit.
‘Mammy’ crouched down and squeezed him closely.
“My, I haven’t met a soul as unique as yours... There, there...”
Her voice was so gentle, so tender, so…motherly. For a woman who originally seemed so dismissive of his claims to power in their deal and for a woman he found so…nerve-wracking at first, she was…
…nice.
“Oh goodness, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m called Rosie!”
Rosie…
It was…it well…
It fit her.
Roses, to him, were always a pretty flower that smelt sweet.
But they had thorns and you had to be gentle with them!
And Rosie was…almost like somebody young, somebody very young, trying to say Rose.
A gentle tug of his hair brought him out of his thoughts; she’d been brushing his hair out his face, wiping any wet strand with her fingers, squeezing out droplets of liquid from it.
For a place, which he assumed to be Hell, it seemed…more peaceful and nicer than he expected. A soothing first impression, one could say.
“Muma…Wosie…”
Alastor mumbled feebly, looking up again to meet her eyes full of…pity? Her eyebrows were so downcast, like a sad thunder cloud, but her lips were tilted upwards.
At his admission, her features smoothened and her eyes widened the slightest bit. He could see was her empty eye sockets even more now, and without the back shivers.
Why couldn’t he have those eyes? Nobody would know if he wasn’t looking at people in the eye, nobody would get mad at him…
But, she seemed to snap out of it quickly,
“Deary me,” she shivered, “it’s gettin’ cold out here. How about we both get inside? You can stay with me.”
Promptly, before he could even agree or disagree with her choice, he was scooped up and taken into a pinker building, some purple accents too. They went through a set of doors again and he found himself in a more domestic setting, face still pressed upon her chest.
“Ah, he must’ve gone upstairs…”
She mumbled.
The entire house smelt like some sort of sweetness, mixed in with hints of blood and flesh; Alastor began to salivate again, feeling it slip out his mouth and onto his shirt.
Despite that, she took him up some creaky wooden steps and down a hall. He could see some paintings, not that he could tell when they were painted. The corridor was pretty wide, with a few windows he could peek out of and see the darkened sky, and he could see three doors at the end of the corridor.
“This room,” Rosie pointed at the door to the right, “is me and Frank’s room. Frank is my husband, so you’ll certainly meet him sometime.”
She got to the middle door, “this room is the bathroom. And that one,” gesturing to the left door, “is gonna be your room until you get your footing.”
Whilst she finished her sentence, she etched closer and opened the door and set him down onto his steadying feet. It wasn’t too fancy, just a bed, a bedside table, a window with the curtains drawn to the sides, a rug, a desk and…the scent of raspberry pie.
“Do you smell anything?”
“Raspberry pie!”
Allie walked into the room. The bed covers were a deep red—and very fluffy, and the walls and floor were more dusky, pale red…they certainly liked red. They did also have a carpet! Not as red, fortunately.
“Mmh…yes…I haven’t baked anything recently…is raspberry pie your favourite smell?”
“I like it.”
Rosie chuckled,
“You get yourself cozy before some dinner, I’ll be in my room.”
The door shut.
He could see a shimmer of moonlight shine upon his body, making him almost seem to glow. Etching closer to the window, the moon above was this very dusty red sphere with a pentagram on it, next to a white…beacon with…more rings around it, and what seemed to be a white mist behind it.
Alastor felt absolutely fascinated; he’d never felt this way about the moon.
And when he looked closer, he could see the rings around the white beacon spin around, trembling slightly as they did. Sometimes he could see different colour’s roll around on it, like blues, pinks, yellows, purples or browns. The mist seemed to even pulsate, going opaquer and more transparent in a certain rhythm. It was subtle, so he had to pay super close attention!
He took another whiff of the raspberry pie.
Right, where was that smell from? It clearly wasn’t on the bedside table or the desk or on the bed… It couldn’t possibly be above his head! There was no shelves, and it would be silly for it to be so high up!
Alastor still looked up at the ceiling. No, it wasn’t there.
Perhaps it was on the ground? He fell onto the ground, looking under the desk—where it was not found—and under the bed—where—
Wait, what was that?
The smell hit him in the face, so he reached under the bed, grabbed ahold of some item, and pulled it out.
It wasn’t a raspberry pie, but it was a…deer stuffie.
The softest little fur on it! It was…beige furred and…with cute little white spots on it! And…and soft brown antlers! And…it had brown hands and feet! And it smelt like…raspberry pie!
Alastor couldn’t help but cuddle the stuffed toy close.
The stomach was a little firm, so he pushed down on it; a radio scratch emitted, and a shadow burst out of it!
Sssshh…
Alastor snapped his head around, seeing the shadowy figure stretch on his wall, the end of it starting from his feet. It showed off its massive claws, had the scariest smile ever, and cackled in a deep tone.
…
The fawn began crying.
The shadow returned back to the toy and seemed to go back into it. A green glow came from its belly, and what sounded like a typical radio broadcaster began to talk,
“Hello! I am-I am-”
Oh, it was very glitchy…
“BUY ONE- I a-###-am M-###-MIX-##ister S-SHADOW SHADOW ON THE WALL-”
Alastor laughed.
“Mxxx-taar Shadow!! I Al-ah-tor!”
The sound went back to static, then it began speaking again,
He couldn’t help but give the stuffie a big hug! He had a new best friend! Two new best friends! Mxster Shadow…and…and…!
…
What was he doing?
Why was he acting so infantile?
A serial murderer, excited by…imaginary friends of all things.
“Mis-Mixtar Shadow…wh…why am I…this?”
He gestured at his body, feeling his jaw bones, his trachea, his ribs, feeling the bumps and lumps from all that bone.
“Simply, you died and went to Hell.”
Shaking his head rapidly,
“No! No! Why am I-why am I…babyish…?”
The glow began to flicker and dim.
Silence enveloped the room for a little while.
But a hesitant voice muttered out again,
“I do not know, truly. I only know you ended up this way. Perhaps a consequence of your deeds in life?”
What could’ve Alastor done to become this way?
He never killed children, that was cruel, most of them were helpless and vulnerable, and he never…acted like a child. Despite what Rosie said, he was quite grown up and mature in life.
…what could be it?
Was him making fun of that childish woman the cause behind this?
That was harsh!
But it was Hell.
“Mmmkay…”
Allie hugged the toy again, feeling his worries melt away again. Blissful peace…
Then, Mxster Shadow jumped out the toy and went into Alastor’s own light reflection, seeing as the creature morphed in there, blending in smoothly.
“Where go?”
His voice began going towards the end, his throat began to creak, and his trachea began to hurt and ache; not only that, he could feel the tips of his fingers feel more…electric or…strong, and his back felt pins and needles along six specific circles, starting from his shoulders and going down to just above his hips.
…
Strange.
…
He had to show mammy his new plushie! So, the boy shrieked out,
“MAMMYYYY!!”
His voice…it was new! It was…his grown-up voice again! Deep, but slightly high-pitched and it was very smooth and almost slid off the tongue and…it was charming! It has to be! And now, and now…it had a radio filter over it! Like how the other men on the radio spoke!
…
Digging under his vest and button up, he felt his chest.
…
They were still there.
Smaller, but noticeable enough up-close that he’d still need to flatten them.
Allie would figure out something eventually…he would…
The door swung open and his hand flew back out, plushie pressed against his chest.
“Al?”
“I have a new voice.”
Alastor pointed at his mouth, sharp teeth holding a huge, proud grin on his face. The filter was amazing! He loved it! He really did sound like he was on the radio!
“Well, no wonder you sounded different. Sound just like the little boy I met a night ago!”
She walked over and chuckled. He grumbled and turned his body away from her.
“Oh, who’s that little deer?"
Dammit, she still saw the plushie and acknowledged it…he turned around to show her it. She stroked its cheeks, then sniffed,
“Whu-! That’s where the raspberry smell came from.” The lady gave a forced cough, “…does it have a name?”
He forgot to name the stuffie! How could he forget that? That was the most important part! Oh dear…oh…uh…
“No.”
Rosie grabbed his shoulder and ushered him onto his bed, the two sitting down next to each other and examining the deer plushie, feeling it’s soft fur in-between his claws.
“How about…Raspberry?”
“No. That’s basic.”
“Hmmmm…Fawny?”
Allie shook his head.
Rosie clicked her tongue, pretending to have no more ideas,
“What do you think it should be called?”
He thought long and hard, then came to a conclusion,
“Meat pie! No-! That’s boring! I need a better one!”
Alastor stood up and gasped, arms up in the air,
“Venison!”
The toddler began to cackle, imagining thunder and lightning going off and rain pouring down beside him, as if he were an eviiiiiil scientist who concocted a new recipe to bring people back from the dead!
“How brilliant!”
She cheered and patted his head.
“I ought to make you some food about now, don’t I? You stay here and figure yourself out…”
She squeezed him, then left the room.
Allie walked over to the window again. No rain, no lightning or thunder, just the moon and the stars.
But he didn’t care. He’d shut his eyes, hug Venison tightly to his chest, and be able to hear the rain pour down, feel the buzzing and blood pumping inside Venison and the shallow breathing as he became alive, croaky whines and mumbled confusions that he’d proclaim! He could hear the rain thump and thump and thump against the window, and the lightning strike that house and strike that pole, and the thunder bellow all over the townsfolk below!
…But he was safe, in mammy’s house, protected from that scary storm. And if it got too much, he could always go downstairs and ask mammy for help.
Alastor opened his eyes again, looking back at the silent night, the glowing moons and the little glitter speckles in the sky.
do you think Shauna ever regressed really small with someone other than Jackie and they just didn’t know what to do since they never see her so small
honestly i do, though i don't think its willingly. maybe shes slightly more open before the loss of wilderness baby, but probably not really young headspace.
I think that in the wilderness its potentially someone like Tai, and it only happens because Shauna is so genuinely overwhelmed and Jackie is away for some reason or another and she's sore, scared, and lonely. Tai recognizses the regression for what it is almost immediately but Shauna is just pushed deeper into her headspace by her fear of what is going on. Tai just holds her and waits until Shauna cries herself to sleep to try and change her and get her under a blanket.
On a happier note, I think that in the house Shauna regresses very occasionally only when she's sick or stressed - potentially her father has sent a letter for the first time since the crash - and she just can't hold it in any longer. I think this is a lot more of a positive regression though, and maybe someone (Tai again? Or maybe Nat or Lottie - little Mel wants to help, but she pretty quickly gets given another job...) just holds lots of pretty toys for her to grab and play with, hoping she'll stay sweet. Everyone wants to get in to see Shauna (or 'the baby' as the youngest regressors are often referred to) but they get pushed out of her room while whoevers looking after her watches Shauna kick and play about!! Its definitely strange for the person looking over her since Shauna is well... Shauna! She's the one who is often regressed to either a cranky kid or tween age, not this adorable little one whos blowing raspberries and grizzling if she doesn't get a bottle.
On a night Tsukasa feels particularly maternal, he finds his cubs up way past bedtime, writing notes and drafting blue prints(Senkuu), tending the fields(Taiju), sharing stories with the village kids(Mirai), and drags them off to his den for much needed sleep.
