I don’t think my posts are showing up when I’m tagging star wars agere!! please let me know if you’ve seen my din djarin cg headcanons while scrolling :(
Caregiver Din Djarin & Regressor Reader Headcanons
I’m currently rewatching all of The Mandalorian in preparation for the new movie (Just cried my eyes out during the season 2 finale… The music… Luke… Din taking his helmet off so Grogu can see him before they say goodbye) and decided to finally write headcanons for caregiver Din! In these headcanons, reader (you!) is with Grogu and Din on all their galaxy-wide adventures. Let’s also say that the Razor Crest was never blown to smithereens…
Din is protective by nature. Despite his gruff exterior and all the violence that has to do with taking up bounty hunting as a profession, Din is a true caretaker and is willing to put himself in harm’s way for both you and Grogu. It’s inevitable that Din finds trouble wherever he goes, and interactions with slimy characters on core and back-water planets means that Din is constantly checking in on you. The phrase are you alright, kid? is suitable for any and all situations when you’re little, Din always handling you with caution and care.
He tends to dislike leaving you and Grogu alone in the Razor Crest — only doing so when he feels a place like Coruscant’s lower levels are too volatile for you when you’re regressed, or when he knows Grogu is in a particular trouble-making mood.
However, Din also knows when the right times are to bring your regressed self along to explore all that planetary travel has to offer. Once at Mon Cala’s seafood market, he tucked Grogu safely in a bag slung over his torso, with his hand firmly holding yours. He chuckled fondly when you tugged him along and eagerly pointed at an array of slithering tentacles wrapped around skewers, begging him to let both you and Grogu try the street food. And when your food attached itself to your cheek and you yelped, he really laughed, tugging your meal from your skin with a gruff statement typically reserved for Grogu: don’t play with your food.
When you’re little, Din tries his best to keep travel in the Razor Crest as calm as possible. During long hours spent in hyperspace, he likes to keep you entertained with a datapad that is strictly for reading, falling asleep in the pilot’s chair while you curl up in your seat behind him to read about space pirates. Sometimes he’ll wake up with a start and see your datapad on the ground and Grogu in your arms, both babies fast asleep. When that happens he puts Grogu to bed first in the little hammock above your sleeping nook, then returns to take you in his arms and gently places you in bed, tucking a warm blanket around you. And on days when he’s feeling particularly sentimental, his helmet lifts so he can press a tender kiss to your forehead.
Din likes to use Mando’a with you when you’re regressed. The term of endearment that slips most easily through his voice modulator is ad’ika, meaning “little one.” He uses it in any context and for any reason, when gently soothing you after a nightmare and you drop very young, or when shaking his head in frustration after you stomp your feet and screech at his rules on the Razor Crest for when he has to leave you and Grogu unattended.
In fact, Din is very particular about the way he likes things on the Razor Crest because of all his years spent alone. This makes keeping his ship an orderly place difficult because of all the havoc that you and Grogu cause together. You’ll hide pieces of his beskar around the ship just to watch him furiously search for it. Dinner ends up on your front sometimes, not purposely, but he’ll spend an entire half hour cleaning you up and making sure you’re as tidy as his shining beskar. Din will chase you down when you task Grogu with flinging fruit across the ship with the Force, and he’s certainly not afraid of putting you in time-out or sending you to bed early.
The first time Din had you around people he knew personally when you were regressed was during a stop in Tatooine to pick up a job from Boba and Fennec. You were practically hiding behind Din as you descended the stairs of Boba’s Palace and headed straight to the Daimyo’s private office. Your face clearly read of both curiosity and nervousness as you clutched onto Din’s cape for purchase and both Boba and Fennec eyed you with confusion, and in the same moment, understanding.
You’ve got a habit of picking up strays, Boba had remarked.
Din replied, it seems I could say the same to you, receiving an eye-roll from Fennec that brought a small smile to your face.
All in all, Din is an attentive, protective, and at times strict caregiver who would give up the world just for his ad’ike. <3
Learning to Heal: Regressor Dustin Henderson and Caregiver Steve Harrington Headcanons
Obviously my mind is SPINNING after the episode where Dustin clings to Steve and begs him not to go across the (seriously, horribly, dangerous) ladder and get himself killed because he can’t deal with it again, and he’s sorry, and he sobs, scared and grieving and needing Steve to stay. And Steve’s immediate reaction, despite his surprise with wide eyes and the realization of how much Dustin’s been dealing with, is to wrap his arms around Dustin and cradle the back of his head and assure him that no, no, no, he doesn’t need to apologize, it’s okay, and he’s not going anywhere.
So, without further ado, please accept these sort-of headcanons following the development of Steve and Dustin’s big and little bro relationship! I haven’t seen the finale yet so let’s say this takes place in a world where Vecna gets blown up and everyone lives happily ever after. (TW: grief, mentions of death)
Dustin started lashing out and pulling away from everyone after Eddie’s death. Partly due to his closeness to Eddie — how could anyone understand what this deep, dark, horrible pit of grief felt like after the acceptance and kindness Eddie had shown him — and partly because he felt responsible for what happened. If he would have just told Eddie to jump through the gate before him, or hadn’t hurt his leg so he could have caught up to Eddie before the demobats did, things might have been different.
Dustin channeled his grief into picking fights with the jocks at school, getting himself into situations where they’d beat him to a pulp or he’d get back at them for desecrating Eddie’s grave. It didn’t matter if they hit him or not, because he felt he deserved it or nothing could be as bad as what Eddie went through. Mike, Will, Lucas, and Steve all admonished him for his actions, confused at his behaviour and growing frustrated when Dustin would only return their pleas with anger.
Steve understood why Dustin had been so difficult, so volatile and angry, and regretted saying what he did about Eddie to Dustin in the Upside Down as soon as the boy’s arms wrapped around him, not to fight, but with the desperate and terrified plea of a kid begging his older brother to stay with him.
The moment was simple yet profound for the pair. Dustin’s ability to let his grief out in such a visceral manner proved how much their relationship mattered, and allowed Steve to peer into Dustin’s battered heart.
Their caregiver and regressor dynamic grew slowly. Steve picked things up with Dustin like they’d never been bruised from Eddie’s death, allowing the kids to hang at the radio station with him and Robin, poking fun at Dustin and remarking that he was looking more like one of the teddy bears from Return of the Jedi everyday with his curls — They’re Ewoks, Steve. How many damn times do I have to say it until it sticks the landing on that smooth brain of yours?
But as they got closer again, Steve could see Dustin’s desire to be around him grow. Steve couldn’t help but to offer more hair-ruffling and pats on the back when Dustin came around with another theory on black holes that he could never in a million years understand, and Dustin couldn’t help but to smile more often, to pick fun at Steve and feel a little bit like a kid again, excited over new things and to tell his big br—Steve about it.
Steve started to let Dustin hang around him more and more, Dustin visiting him at his often empty family home, and Steve eating dinner with Dustin and his mother. Hugs from Dustin came at seemingly random moments during these times, and Steve started to pick up on it gradually. When Dustin was bogged down by the weight of grief, he clung onto the older boy, both as a comfort and a way to reassure himself that Steve was there and wasn’t going anywhere. And when he was happier, lighter and less anxious, he also hugged Steve, boisterously and joyfully. Lightsaber fights and ideas for extravagant D&D campaigns came to life. Movie nights and popcorn strewn all over the carpet took place once a week. A teary-eyed and small Dustin appeared every now and again with fists rubbing his eyes and a need to be tucked in on the couch with a warm blanket.
The regression became the most apparent when Dustin himself realized what was going on and leaned into it rather than away. He was at the arcade with Steve, impatiently bouncing on the heels of his feet and waiting his turn at the Star Wars pinball machine when everything clicked. Steve had picked him up, taken him to the corner store for snacks, fixed the way his cap sat on his curls, and was engaging in a level of geekiness exceeding any personal choice. Steve was treating him like a kid, working on healing whatever had gone wrong all those years ago when Will first went missing, and Dustin was happy.
Steve? Dustin spoke up, Steve hitting the side of the machine and cursing as the paddle missed the pinball by an eighth of an inch. I’m not a kid. Steve looked up with a wince, face pinched and an apology on the tip of his tongue. But sometimes, it’s probably better to be one with you.
I just recently watched the crown for the first time (a bit late I know) and thought the episode where charles learns some welsh for his speech was sooo heartbreaking. the emotion in charles’ eyes and the softness and the yearning when he sees his teacher and the teacher’s wife put their son to bed — immediate agere material there.
and then I just watched the new knives out and loved josh’s character in it too. the kindness and understanding in his voice when he comforts people and talks about Jesus. he’s too good so anyways longwinded explanation over, here’s the moodboard!
any interest in agere fics involving a little charles or caregiver father jud?
rising from the ashes of writer’s block and full time job corporate anxiety from Frankenstein (2025). the creature (adam) is just a little guy. the littlest guy ever. what’s interesting about him is that I wouldn’t necessarily classify him as a regressor — I think the perfect spot for fics for him is that sweet spot where the blind man tutors/fathers/teaches him, whatever you want to call it. like let’s write a fic where elizabeth frees him from victor’s torture basement and raises the creature as her own. let him have his temper tantrums and tears and smiles and softness and ALL of it. he really deserved to be raised like any other child. or perhaps she makes victor see his illogical and evil treatment of the creature and we get a different kind of family dynamic.
however, I do see the opportunity for agere fics because the creature never got a childhood - he had to learn almost everything from books and his time with the blind man was so short that there’s no way all aspects of childhood vanished from him. SO, I guess all I’m saying here is that there’s so many opportunities to write for him and I can’t figure out where to start!! but this movie has my mind working creatively again and I really want to write at least headcanons soon!!!
okay so after watching the new frankenstein movie (and absolutely loving it) I have decided on a (kinda) regressor Moodboard for Adam / the creature!!! — I wasn't quite sure how to convey his regression but I tried my best...
Little!Bob and Little!Yelena: First Times Regressing with the Team
Been cooking up this post for a couple weeks after watching Thunderbolts! Did I shed (many) tears when Alexei told Yelena he doesn’t see her mistakes when he looks at her, and instead the happy little girl she used to be? Absolutely. Aside from that, YES Bob is a little and YES Yelena is too! Let me know if you’re interested in seeing more of them. I wanted this post to be essentially two separate little stories of Yelena and Bob regressing in front of the team for the first time!
Russian translations:
Lenochka (Nickname for Yelena used for kids)
Moya devochka (My girl/daughter)
Malen’kaya devochka (Endearing term for little girl)
Malyshka (Used for very young children, roughly translates to a version of “baby” like “cute tiny one”)
Little!Bob
Bob regresses around the team before Yelena does. Realistically, he’d already been regressing for years — and had technically regressed in front of them for the first time when he woke up in the OXE Vault in pyjamas that swamped over his form, making him feel small — but the first time the team realized what was going on was after a long press day.
Valentina had the team out all day posing for photographs to be plastered over cheap merchandise and cereal boxes, attending charity events, and visiting animal shelters. The day dragged on and on, with Ava and Bucky grumbling, John and Yelena bickering, and Alexei telling a thousand humourless jokes.
Bob was quiet, not unusually so, but started getting antsy near the end of their expected duties. He flinched every time Alexei’s booming laughter erupted near him, pushed a concerned Yelena out of his space at the animal shelter, and then cowered in the backseat of the SUV carting them back to base with tears dripping down his face.
“Hey, hey, Bob — what’s going on with you, huh? Too much today?” Bucky’s sharp senses picked up on the mere change in Bob’s breathing as he sat next to him, careful to make his tone of voice as gentle as possible. He already knew Bob was a regressor anyways — the innocence the young man carried that shifted his depression into something manageable was as clear as day.
Bob squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away from Bucky, as if ashamed to be seen crying and scared of being reprimanded. “S-sorry, ‘m not trying to — to be annoying.”
“Annoying?!” Yelena piped up in offense before Bucky could respond, whipping her head around from her seat in front of them, obviously having been listening to their exchange. “You are not annoying. Walker is annoying. Alexei is annoying. You are just little.”
“Little? I mean, he’s not as tall as me, but I wouldn’t call him little,” John said quizzically, only to earn a punch in the arm from Yelena.
“He’s young,” Bucky cut in before Yelena could continue bickering. “Is that right, Bob?”
Bob’s shoulders were up to his chin now, all eyes in the van on him. His gaze darted around anxiously before he finally nodded and then covered his wet cheeks and teary eyes with his arms.
“Ohhh,” John said dumbly.
“Yes, ohhhh. Now stop staring at him. He’s scared.” Yelena rolled her eyes at John and turned back around in her seat.
“I can help,” remarked Alexei from the front seat of the van, looking in the rear view mirror at Bob’s very sad outline, “Lena is sometimes still my itty bitty Lenochka—“
“Not the time!” Yelena balked, sinking in her seat when Ava and John exchanged knowing looks. However, Alexei’s statement worked enough to get Bob’s arms to retract from his face and look wide-eyed at the back of Yelena’s head, especially as Alexei kept going on, halfway between Russian and English.
“There is nothing wrong with it, malen’kaya devochka. It is as good a time to tell as any. And look, Bob is curious for the small Lena!”
“I thought we shouldn’t look at him,” Ava joined the already overstimulating conversation, but luckily for Bob, Bucky picked up on his growing anxiety.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Bob?” Bucky asked quietly and carefully, not sure what the boy was comfortable with. What they had all seen and heard in Bob’s trauma rooms, the harsh hands and words of his father, the mocking utterances of “Bobby,” made Bucky want to treat him gently.
Bob squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, but anxiously clutched at his shirt. Unfortunately for him, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions in check. A rather strange whimper forced its way out of his throat, and his shoulders jolted with a sudden sob.
“Look, you made him cry,” Ava said dryly to Alexei, earning a loud protest from the man while Bucky was quick to jump into action.
“Bob, I’m going to touch you, alright?” The older man stated before placing a hand on Bob’s back. He wanted to put an arm around the boy but didn’t know how he would act.
Bob jolted on instinct but took the gesture gratefully, leaning against Bucky and burying his face into the older man’s shoulder.
“There we go. You’re alright,” Bucky chuckled a little, wrapping his arm all the way around Bob’s shoulders and holding him.
Alexei glanced into the rear view mirror as the van pulled up to the Watchtower. “We are home! Do you need a hand with the little one?” He was practically giddy, every fatherly instinct in him oozing out for everyone to see.
“I think he’s got it,” John remarked, throwing the van door open and climbing out with Ava hot on his heels.
As everyone piled out of the van, Yelena hung back to keep an eye on Bob and Bucky. The need to help itched away at her, especially because she knew how Bob might be feeling. The young man clambered out of the vehicle with Bucky behind him, sniffling and stopping in his tracks as he saw Yelena waiting. All it took was for Yelena to open her arms for him to run into them, curling into her and letting out a contented sigh.
Bucky smiled softly at the scene, and Yelena grinned back at him. She wasn’t alone in her regression anymore.
Little!Yelena
Yelena was ashamed about her regression at first, embarrassed to be small around Alexei because he really was her dad — but when he told her he still looked at her and saw her as the little girl she once was, everything fit together perfectly. She had known this feeling of littleness for years, but had finally put the pieces together with Alexei.
Her regression came on for the first time with the team around while fooling around with Alexei. Being with her dad made her feel small in general, like her body was remembering some semblance of happiness she’d experienced with him in her childhood that her mind couldn’t recall. Sometimes she would be devastatingly sad, weepy, and upset, calling out for her daddy to come save her from the red room with its sharp knives and biting memories. But other times, she would feel happy and light, small and giggly. Much like a warm summer’s day spent with Nat, back when the lies were real.
When the team first experienced it, little Yelena was playing a game where she would attempt to sneak up on her dad without him noticing and launch herself onto his back. Her bright laughter and energy bounced off the walls of the tower, and she didn’t care when Ava and Bob showed up after she tugged on Alexei’s beard and he roared and covered her in tickles. The team knew there was this side to Yelena anyhow, the fact common knowledge after Bob’s van escapade.
“Daddy!” Yelena squealed with joy as Alexei picked her up by the middle and tossed her on the couch of the Watchtower’s main living room.
An amused smile appeared on Ava’s face as she watched the pair play fight, and she nudged Bob with her elbow cheekily saying, “Care to join them?”
Bob laughed a little but tugged on his hands in embarrassment, shaking his head. “I’m okay today.”
At the same moment, John came thundering in, barrelling past Ava and Bob and pushing his way between Yelena and Alexei. “Why are we fighting?” He exclaimed in all seriousness.
His sudden appearance did nothing except make Yelena fall to the floor laughing, only to be intercepted by John catching her by the arm. The action made Yelena dangle off his arm for a split second before he came crashing to the floor with her.
“Oh no, do we need to—“ Bob gasped, ready to step in and help, only to be stopped by Bucky’s hand on his shoulder, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Bob jumped a little, but settled when Bucky gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“Nope,” Ava nodded to Yelena who was completely silent, not because she was upset, but because she was in such a state of humoured hysterics that no sound was coming out.
Alexei had his hands on his knees, laughing at a very confused and dazed John and leaning down to pick Yelena up and set her on her feet.
Yelena hung onto Alexei instead of standing up, and her dad chuckled at her antics and settled her as comfortably as possible in his arms as she caught her breath and wiggled happily. She wasn’t typically this little, usually closer to seven or eight than four or five, but the presence of the team was making her regress further.
John got up swiftly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and muttering out a strained apology. “I heard fighting… Not that it matters, but… Sorry.”
Yelena piped up before Alexei could or Ava could interject with a teasing remark. “S’okay! You’re funny.”
Her innocent voice made everyone’s hearts squeeze in their chests, especially Alexei who placed a big kiss on her cheek. “Malyshka, you are so sweet. Like a little candy.”
“You might want to rethink what a fight sounds like, Walker. Friendly fire.” Bucky remarked, giving Yelena a small smile before slinking away.
“I said sorry,” John grumbled and moved to escape the room. However, as he did so, Yelena held her arms out for him.
Alexei exclaimed in surprise, “You want Walker, Lenochka?”
Yelena nodded, and her words made it all make sense. “Don’t feel bad, Johnny!”
Alexei saw the little girl on the soccer field again, the one that cared more about others than herself. John, on the other hand, looked both fearful and reluctant to take the usually bristling Yelena. Despite his experience with regressing soldiers, Yelena being one herself was new to him.
Yelena reached out again and John took her in his arms. It lasted about two seconds as she climbed over him and decided to hang onto his back instead. He hooked his arms under her legs for stability, and sensing her mood took off running.
The laughter resumed, echoing exuberantly down the halls of the Watchtower.
Hello! I have come from your post on Twitter and I was just wondering if you were ever going to make that post about Elvis being an age regressor? I just saw on Twitter you planned on making a tumblr post about it and I was really hoping you would make one. ☺️
hi. I have emerged from my lair and honestly… I think with this one ask you’ve convinced me. although I might post on here rather than twitter — I got sooo much flak last time!
I’m literally 100% certain without a doubt that elvis regressed. like the amount that I’ve read and researched over the past 3 years has made my doubt totally disappear about it. he regressed!
Hey, I’m just reaching out to people on Tumblr. You’ve probably heard of Jesus and God, but have you ever reached out to Jesus for problems in your life? Big or small. Not to make you uncomfortable, but did you know sin (in your life and other people’s lives) can really hurt you, it make feel like there is a void that is never satisfied. That void could be called a “God sized hole.” Sin sucks and not just in a societal cookie cutter way, but in a way that it feels like there is a decay within a person. That can be a lot to take in, but I hope it is good food for thought. I hope you’re having an awesome day!! 💕
hi whoever u are! I gave my life to Christ a few years ago now. I think this is a rlly good opportunity to let ppl know how much Jesus loves u and changes your life! and I’m so grateful God has given me the ability to write and run this account — I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!
Lumon Industries falls after Helly R. speaks the truth about the company's treatment of Severed employees. All chips are removed and Mark copes the only way he knows how. This proves difficult, sharing a body with his innie and a brain fighting reintegration.
Age regressor Mark fanfic! (cross-posted on my ao3 account, here)
Chapter 1: New Beginnings
Word count: 1845
Mark Scout had an idea of what his life would be like after working at Lumon. He dared to hope that his time at the company would ease the pain of losing Gemma enough to return to the university. Maybe he would lecture on the Battle of the Somme again, and cut loose his grief by returning to a past far beyond that of his own. History could be an escape once he no longer pondered his own and spent time wishing the brake pedal had been pressed a fraction of a second earlier. Smoke and rubble would belong on paper rather than the recesses of his severed mind.
What Mark Scout didn’t hope post-Lumon life would be: the searing pain of new memories bursting from his eyelids into brilliant, white light – an endless labyrinth of walls and numbers, fear and wonder. And it certainly didn’t take place at his sister’s house, with the shrill cries of an infant ringing in his ears and Ricken, of all people, holding a cold compress to his forehead. The worst part about it? He found that he craved the attention from Ricken, a tender touch and attention to his pain. His innie had to be here too.
Devon’s voice sounded muffled and far away, as if water filled Mark’s ears and flowed into the torrential waters in his mind. “He was fine two hours ago. Is it reintegration sickness?”
“I think so. His spirit feels split.” Ricken’s voice boomed, almost drowning out the end of Devon’s question. Mark winced, and found himself being softly shushed by his brother-in-law. His mind lit up, his brother-in-law!
Mark opened his eyes when the baby – Eleanor – shrieked. But, his eyes felt wet. Could babies make you cry? No, no, that’s idiotic. I was a baby once. Yes, you were.
Another wave of pain surged through Mark, and he found that he was speaking every word aloud and crying much like Eleanor. Devon passed Eleanor to Ricken, swooped in on Mark, sitting next to him on the race car bed and turning the compress over so it was cooler on his forehead. Eleanor’s cries faded as Ricken took her out of the room.
“S’better,” Mark murmured, his speech slurred, breaths choppy. He closed his eyes again and felt Devon gently dabbing away his tears with a tissue. More still fell anyway. Did he cry at Lumon? Another memory passed his vision, one of Petey’s hands clapping him on the shoulder, offering him a tissue as the door to the break room slammed shut behind him and he was enveloped in white again. “Dev,” Mark gasped.
“I’m right here, Mark. I got you.” She replied, somber and empathetic, her heart being pulled in three directions at once. One, for her Mark, another for the sweet innie she was just getting to know, and the last for the Mark in between – the one who always seemed to be suffering ever since he was cut free from his chip.
Devon knew what was coming next. She felt she gained a mother’s intuition even before Eleanor was conceived, one that was gifted to her by her darling firstborn from eternity so she would know just how to help her brother when he couldn’t voice his unending grief.
Mark felt horribly desperate, like he was scrabbling for something he couldn’t see. And yet, the pain of two lives in his mind dissipated with one word, almost like the elevator at Lumon had carried him up to reality. “Devvie!” He uttered, eyes fluttering open reaching towards his sister with a hand to make any sort of contact.
There it was. Devon recognized her Mark, and the innocent place he retreated to when it was all too much. She pulled the compress from his forehead, clasped his hand in hers and wiped the dampness from his face. “Oh, honey, it’s okay. Was that a bad one?”
“Hurt. And – my innie. I remembered.” Mark sniffled, his eyes hazy and his throat sore from crying. He sat up in his bed, Devon’s hand moving to his back to run her fingers up and down it soothingly. “Don’t like him.”
“You don’t mean that, honey. I know it’s painful when your memories mix with your Innie’s, but he feels it too.” Devon offered the statement in return, smiling softly at Mark’s childish speech.
“Don’t like him.” Mark repeated, this time with a scowl, brow furrowing with nothing but contempt.
“Well,” Devon pushed Mark’s hair out of his eyes, “He likes you.”
“Don’t care.”
“Okay, bud.” Devon breathily chuckled, more out of relief than anything else, but it earned her an even fiercer look from Mark. She liked him like this – bratty and quick witted, sure, but also willing to speak his feelings much more than when he didn’t feel young.
“Where’s Ellie?” Mark then asked, perking up at the thought of the baby, tears and pain dissolving into curiosity and alertness.
“Rick took her on a little walk around the house. Do you wanna go find her?” Devon offered, standing up and holding out her hand for Mark to take. His eyes danced from her hand to her face and back again, as if hesitant to fully accept the dynamic. His hand clasped hers anyways.
Unsteady on his feet, Mark swayed as he got up from his bed, frowning. “Ugh,” He groaned, an uncomfortable, dejected noise.
“I know. We’ll get you some hot tea too, it’ll help.” Devon steadied him with her other hand on his shoulder, and gently coaxed Mark into following her to the kitchen.
Ricken stood in the kitchen, rocking Eleanor in his arms and shushing her gently. The lighting was dim, warm and inviting, easy on Mark’s subsiding headache and tired eyes.
Mark looked like he wanted to say something to Ricken as his sister pulled him into the kitchen, but he kept his mouth closed and his eyes wide as he looked at Eleanor, who was calm and quiet. He found it harder to talk in front of Ricken when he was in this regressed state, uncertain with a whisper of embarrassment that he never told Devon about. Those feelings were much too big for him anyways – the point of a return to childhood was getting away from them.
“Feeling better, Mark?” Ricken asked in a hushed tone, expression worried as he rocked Eleanor back and forth.
Mark gave a single nod, but kept looking at Eleanor, even as Devon let go of his hand to put the kettle on to boil. “Umm,” He started, “D-did I wake her up?”
Ricken and Devon shared a look, and Ricken said, “No, of course not – well, yes.”
“Can I hold her?”
The couple shared another look, and Ricken shook his head. “I’m sorry, little guy, but I just got her settled. You feel bad about waking her up, right?”
Mark pouted, and nodded again. He didn’t like the guilt that was creeping into his stomach and turning his insides around. He hated causing trouble for Devon and the baby, and didn’t particularly enjoy all the aspects of the whole depending on someone else shtick that Devon had been very insistent on ever since he showed up on their doorstep in the middle of the night with his car in the bushes.
“Well, I know how you can make it better.” Ricken continued, tone lilting.
That made Mark’s pout fade and his nodding more enthusiastic. He could do something to help.
“Why don’t you go and find her pacifier? The one with the wooden handle?” As soon as Ricken asked, Mark set off to the living room, looking under the couch and flipping around cushions.
“You’re good with him.” Devon remarked with a wistful grin, pouring a mug of tea for Mark.
“Well, it is purely instinctual. But… His face is plastered with emotion when he’s like this. Little Mark needs unassuming coddling. Coddling without it being obvious.” Ricken replied, as if it was as simple as making the mug of tea that was sitting on the counter, steam trailing upwards and disappearing.
“But,” Devon chewed on her lower lip anxiously, watching Mark determinedly march past the kitchen and back to his and Eleanor’s room in search of the pacifier. “What if he fully reintegrates, and this doesn’t work anymore? When he’s young like this, it’s – Rick, you know as well as I do that this is the most content we’ve seen him since Gemma.”
“I know. But he needs time before we start theorizing. It’s been a month since the chip was removed, Dev. We’ve met innie Mark, what, five times? Six? They don’t switch often.” Ricken brushed Devon’s worries aside, moving toward some kind of inner peace that Devon couldn’t see herself finding.
Still, Ricken had a point, especially when Mark came around the corner, a rare and true smile on his face. Victoriously, he put the pacifier on the kitchen counter and watched joyously as Ricken coaxed it into Eleanor’s mouth, which made her little eyelids close sleepily.
Mark lingered by the counter, hands resting on its edge as he watched Eleanor settle. Devon studied him. The way his shoulders weren’t drawn so tight, the way his mouth didn’t immediately press into that exhausted, unreadable line. He was so much younger like this, even if she knew it was temporary. Maybe that was the part that scared her most.
“Good job, Mark,” she said, pushing the mug of tea towards him and his eyes flicked toward her, startled, as if he hadn’t expected praise. Somehow, it made his head thrum. He carefully picked up the mug and took a sip, the warmth soothing his throat.
Ricken hummed in approval. “Yes, quite. A man of action.”
Mark shrugged, but there was satisfaction behind his expression, burning brightly in his usually dim eyes. His fingers tapped against the ceramic mug, lightly dinging in the quiet of the kitchen.
“She’s okay?”
“She’s okay,” Ricken confirmed. “Because of you.”
Mark’s embarrassment spiked, and he attempted to hide behind his mug. Devon laughed softly, truly this time, and even moreso when Mark squeaked out, “Bedtime?”
The family headed back to Eleanor and Mark’s room, Devon pulling back the covers on the race car bed for Mark to climb into. Ricken gently placed Eleanor in her crib, removing the pacifier and pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead before joining the siblings.
Devon and Ricken both kneeled next to Mark’s bed, Devon pulling the blankets up to his shoulders but not quite to his chin – Mark had quipped one night that he didn’t like feeling suffocated when Devon tucked him in too tight.
“I’ll be back later to come check on you and Eleanor. Feeling alright, honey?” Devon asked one last time, gaze soft as her motherly instincts guided her words.
Mark answered with a sleepy “uh-huh,” eyes heavy and body succumbing to sleep, exhausted and safe with his family.
Devon leaned down and pressed a kiss to Mark’s forehead, loving her brother the same way she did her daughter. For now, it was enough
OH MY GOSH REGRESSOR CARMY ?!??!? i just jumped around oh my gosh i have been thinking about it but thought i was the only one. i really need to get back to watching the bear ough it is so awesome.
yes!! I do have a headcanon post for him under #the bear agere tag. it took a couple episodes for me to go “YES. YOU. REGRESSOR.” ugh seasons 1 and 2 of the show are soooo good but I didn’t particularly like season 3. I hope it picks back up for the 4th but I fear They Lost The Plot
agere headcanons/fics that are in the works right now! (the works being My Brain)
- ABSOLUTELY little glinda and little elphaba with cg!fiyero! I totally think that glinda and elphie would regress together. I have a great idea for how they both found out that the other regresses
- so. I just started severance. MARK IN THE CAR BED AT HIS SISTER’S HOUSE. NEED I SAY MORE.
- I want to write more for arcane, especially for jinx and probably sevika. jinx is canonically a regressor of sorts, so writing for her would be soooo fun
- in the near future I would hypothetically like to write more for carmy from the bear, but that would mean having to rewatch the show and idk if I can do that to myself these days. it’s suuuuper heavy
- what we do in the shadows and our flag means death! and I especially want to write character headcanons for both. I’m just not sure how much interest there is, especially for ofmd. but yall know me. if it’s niche you best believe I’ll be writing it
Little!Jayce with Caregiver!Mel & Viktor Headcanons
As a fandom, I know we’re big on little Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx and Viktor more than Jayce. I love every one of them, but hear me out on little cutiepie Jayce! No spoilers for season 2.
Jayce isn’t necessarily afraid to be vulnerable around Mel and Viktor — obviously he seeks comfort from Mel when he needs it and isn’t afraid to weep tears of sadness and joy at Viktor’s bedside. But when he’s little he feels a deep sense of guilt, especially after he takes on his role as a councillor. Like he’s not allowed to regress because there are responsibilities are piled onto his shoulders and he’s a grown man, and who would ever understand
In comes Mel. Jayce regresses around her first because she makes it so easy, with her tender touches and tendency to cradle his face and look at him with such warmth in her eyes that it feels like he’s staring into the sun.
At first he’s small without telling her. They lay on her bed together as the sun sets, Jayce’s head in Mel’s lap and her fingers carding through his hair. It’s a typical pattern for them, a safe space they love to come to and rest quietly in one another’s presence. However, Jayce finds it difficult to hold all of his emotions in and winds up sniffling in her lap one evening, hiding his face in the soft fabric of her dress and quickly dissolving into sobs of relief and embarrassment when Mel tells him that it’s alright, sweetheart. You can cry if you need to.
Mel takes very good care of her boy. She slowly chips away at this new, vulnerable side of him and learns a lot about little Jayce by treating him gently. For one, Jayce is much more sensitive when he’s little, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t like wearing his stuffy senatorial clothing, and especially hates the high collars of many of his usual shirts and jackets. A way that Mel can tell Jayce is close to regressing or needs to be small is when he tugs at his shirt collar uncomfortably, clearing his throat and practically itching to flee whatever room he’s in.
Emotionally, Jayce is quick to look down on himself and is oftentimes teary. If Mel tells him not to touch her painting while it’s drying after he’s caught curiously poking the canvas, a deep pout will appear on his face and he’ll apologize and go sit himself down in the corner of the room. ‘M sorry, Mel. Didn’t mean to be bad.
He also gets embarrassed very easily, quite unlike his adult self. He has a hard time shaking off his internal adult monologue that tells him there’s something wrong with acting the way he does. He struggles with asking Mel for food or toys and oftentimes prefers to listen to her read out loud rather than participating in a child-like activity. Jayce will hold onto her hand while she reads to him and grows easily frustrated when she has to let go to turn the page.
Viktor knew Jayce was regressing months before he directly found out. Viktor’s incredibly smart and very sharp, so it wasn’t any less than completely obvious to him when he picked up on the way Jayce would skitter away to Mel after a long day or grow too quiet when they worked on the newest Hextech formula together. He was hesitant to bring it up to Jayce, though. Viktor figured that if Jayce wanted him to know he’d say so. Besides, Viktor respects Jayce far too much than to pry in his personal business.
They ended up being forced to confront Jayce’s regression during a late night at the lab. Jayce had fallen asleep at his desk, softly snoring as Viktor quietly tinkered with a new Hextech prototype. However, Jayce’s gentle breathing turned into the smallest sounds of distress — these were common for Viktor to hear, after all, Jayce started having stress dreams about the same time he became a councillor. Viktor glanced over at Jayce, brow furrowing, concerned about the other in a way he didn’t typically show from day to day. His brow furrowed even deeper when Jayce woke with a start and glanced around the room with wild eyes, like he didn’t know where he was.
Then, a soft and scared Mel, left his lips, and Viktor immediately identified what was going on. Jayce had been feeling small even before he fell asleep, and waking up without being in his normal environment with Mel made him regress further. Viktor had never seen him truly regressed before, and everything about Jayce’s body language made him seem so much smaller and unsure than he usually was.
Jayce, you’re here in the lab. It is alright. Viktor reassured him as best he could, despite being very unsure about how to speak to Jayce. The little’s ears went red immediately as he realized where he was and that Viktor was talking to him, and oh no, that Viktor knew he was small when he was supposed to be big. He couldn’t help but to burst into tears of embarrassment, his crying only making him even more upset. Viktor’s oh dear didn’t help matters much either.
Viktor managed to calm Jayce down by simply sitting quietly and allowing him to get all his tears out. Once Jayce’s sobs had slowed down to sniffles, Viktor got up and gently squeezed the little’s shoulders, meeting his eyes. He murmured that everything was quite alright and that they could go and find Mel together. Jayce nearly knocked Viktor down with the force that he threw himself at, wrapping the smaller man in a hug. Viktor wheezed and then chuckled, patting Jayce’s back affectionately as they parted. He knew it was time to see Mel when Jayce’s next action was to tug at the high collar of his shirt. Come on, little one, Viktor remarked, as the pair went off to wake Mel in the middle of the night.
