Involuntary regression is NOT the same thing as vent/stormy/trauma regression. Voluntary regression is NOT ALWAYS all sunshine and rainbows either. Sometimes you can voluntarily vent regress. Sometimes involuntary regression is sunny regression. You cant just say "involuntary" and assume it means vent/stormy. That is not even the definition of the word involuntary
I have no idea why this has become such a widespread misconception? Especially since I thought it was common knowledge that a there are a lot of common positive triggers for sunny involuntary regression, like walking past the toy isle in the store or being spoken to like a little kid and getting subsequently triggered into agere. You guys know that's also considered involuntary agere, right? And it isnt vent?
"Involuntary regression" ONLY means regression that you didn't intend to happen or that you didnt put yourself into consciously.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ free to use? : YES (w/ credit) ࣪ 🩹 flag design : me tw / cw : vent / trauma focused flag .
DEF : Regressor who is clingy with their caregivers / sibbies, but has deep trauma due to expressing it in the past, and therefore struggles to show / communicate neediness or clinginess. The individual is stuck in an endless loop of want to reach out ↺ feels too much.
The thing that annoys me most about those cutesy “I love agere because you don’t have to worry about adult responsibilities, you can just be a kid again” posts is that those responsibilities still exist. I hate that they do, but they still exist.
Feeling too small to go to work or attend class? Too bad because you have to or there are consequences. Figure it out.
Feeling too small to properly wash dishes or do laundry? You either have to figure out how to do it yourself or deal with not having clean clothes or dishes.
Feeling too small to make your own dinner tonight? Well, get yourself ready to go out to eat. Too small to do that either? You’re just… not eating tonight.
Like, I know that those posts aren’t really for me. But… I don’t like how feeling too regressed for these sorts of things isn’t treated as a bad thing. But maybe I just hate my baby self.
A flag for Regressors who feel as though they have little to no friends or overall struggle with creating or maintaining friendships and/or past superficial levels. It makes them feel isolated, impact in their self-esteem and/or overall regression.
summary: in a frenzy you decide to quite agree, Sevika comes home early luckily and stops that
cw: age regression, struggles with hating little you
a/n: self indulgent, my apologies, but yeah this is basically what I'm going through right now
—
Sevika had always been good at noticing things, small things. Such as the way you avoided her eyes on certain evenings, or the way your voice softened when you were half-asleep, she just noticed. That was how she was, that was who she wanted to be.
But she also didn’t push.
Working under Silco had taught her that control wasn’t about force. It was about timing.
And Sevika had patience.
You didn’t, on the other hand, you stood in the middle of your bedroom with a trash bag in hand, breathing like you’d just run a marathon. You were Sevika pretended not to notice under your pillow, the stuffed shark she had one for you on your birthday 2 years before. And you felt ridiculous, you weren’t weak, you weren’t a child, you didn’t need this.
Regression was supposed to help, that’s what you’d read, that's what you've seen, that is what Sevika had gently implied without ever saying outright as she soothed you to sleep through tears. It helped when the noise in your head made you want to scream or punch something, when expectations pressed down on your lung and made you choke and gag.
But it also made you feel smal, and small was dangerous.
You tied the trash bag shut, clenching your jaw as if you were bracing yourself for a hit.
“You don’t need it,” you muttered, “You’re fine. You can just stop..."
The front door clicked open, your heart stopped.
Sevika never came home this early.
Dammnit.
Heavy boots crossed the threshold. A pause.
“Why’s there a trash bag in the bedroom?”
You froze.
Maybe if you stayed still, she’d leave it alone.
The bedroom doorway darkened.
She took in the scene in one sweep, landing on your teary face, then the overstuffed trash bag, and the open drawers.
Her eye narrowed, “Open it.”
“It’s just junk,” you said too quickly, glancing away.
Sevika stepped forward, “Open. It.”
You swallowed and slowly ripped it open, gnawing on your lower lip nervously, and everything spilled out shortly after.
Sevika blinked, face twisting, not angry, but hurt. Something much worse.
“You were gonna throw it all away,” she said quietly, you hated how soft her voice got when she was trying not to snap.
“I don’t need it anymore,” you rushed, “It’s stupid. I’m not a kid. I can handle my own problems.”
Sevika crouched down, and she picked up the pacifier, turning it over in her fingers like it was fragile glass.
“So you stop?” she asked.
You blinked, confused, “What?”
“You stop shaking when the shipments come through?” Her gaze flicked to you, “You stop flinching every time someone raises their voice?”
You didn’t answer.
She stood, stepping closer, “You stop having nightmares?”
Your throat closed... “No,” you whispered.
Sevika set the pacifier gently on the dresser.
Then she reached out, resting her hand on your jaw, tilting your face up slightly.
“I don’t care how you cope,” she said. “Long as it ain’t hurting you.”
“It’s embarrassing,” you choked, anger bubbling in your voice, “What if someone finds out? What if they think I’m weak?”
A humorless huff left her, she shook her head, “Anyone in Zaun thinks softness equals weakness doesn’t last long.”
Her thumb brushed under your eye, wiping away a tear before it could fall, her eyes soft, tired. “You think I don’t know what it is?” she asked quietly.
You stared at her, “I know you regress,” she continued, “I know your voice changes. I know you hide it like it’s contraband," she paused, “and I know it helps.”
Your resolve cracked, “I just… I don’t want to need it.”
Sevika’s expression softened in a way she only ever let you see, “Needing something ain’t the same as being broken.”
Her hand slid to the back of your neck, “You live in Zaun. You survive this city every day. If hugging a toy shark keeps your head above water…” She shrugged, “That’s strategy.” she pulled her hand back and booped your nose.
You let out a laugh, shaking your head, and guided you to sit on the bed. Her movements were firm but careful.
“You don’t get to quit coping just ‘cause it makes you think it makes me uncomfortable,” she said, "That’s self-sabotage, self harm even.”
You stared at the floor, and her fingers gently hooked under your chin again,“Look at me.”
You did, “When you're little,” she said slowly, “you don’t become less. You just let someone else carry the weight for a while.”
Your lip trembled a bit.
“And I can carry it,” she added and the words broke something open inside you.
You felt it,, that familiar slipping sensation, “I- Sev…” your voice wavered, higher now.
Her expression changed instantly, “Yeah,, I know baby,” she murmured. “I’m here.”
You curled in on yourself, and she reached behind you, pulling the blanket from the half-packed trash bag and draping it over your shoulders. Then she picked up the stuffed shark and pressed it into your arms without a word.
“Thought you were quitting,” she muttered dryly, but it was playful.
You sniffled, “'m tried.”
“Yeah. I saw.” she snorted and sat beside you, letting you lean into her side. Her arm rested heavy and warm against your back.
“No more throwing things away,” she said, and you nodded against her shoulder, “And no more pretending you’re fine when you’re not.” Another nod.
She glanced at the sippy cup still peeking out of the bag,“You want juice?”
You hesitated, cheeks burning then puffing out in a pout, “…Yes.”
A faint smirk tugged at her lips, “Course you do.”
She stood, grabbing the cup on her way out.
“And if you try quitting again without telling me, or ever frankly,” she called from the kitchen, “I'm gonna trap you in, er, a playpen.”
A small giggle bubbled out of you before you could stop it.
I'd like to talk about something that's been on my mind a lot recently, and it's something that I've been meaning to bring up.
Littles! Stop taking advantage of CGs!
I'm tired of being taken advantage of by littles who only want someone to coo at them and say nice things and someone who they can dump their trauma on randomly (this is not in relation to my last post. I don't mind if people come to me for advice or for a place to vent, but I need them to ask first!). I want someone who wants a 3 dimensional relationship! Where we are friends first and then we move on to being in a agere relationship. But I get so many littles who claim to be looking for a caregiver, but they only ever want to talk while they are little, and aren't interested in taking it slow and building that very special relationship between carer and little.
I'm not some person who has infinite energy, I'm not some person who is a fanfic where I'm always ready to listen to your worries and anxieties, I'm not this flat, 1 dimensional person who can fit your fantasies of a cg.
I'm a human too, who wants a relationship with the littles I meet /p. Please, littles, please stop taking advantage of online cgs. We aren't your fictional story book that you can leave and come back when you feel like it. We have feelings too, and it's not fair that you play on our natural caring nature.
