littlerainyghoul

[littlerainyghoul]

Hello my little ones,

This post will be talking about some triggering things. If you are not in the headspace, please prioritise your mental health. You are loved and cared for.

Talk of cancer:

I was recently diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully, it’s not terminal, and we caught it early, about the best kind of bad news you can get. Still, it’s been a whirlwind: tests, appointments, “just in case” conversations, and those strange, quiet moments where everything looks the same, but I feel different. Like the sun’s still shining, but I’m not the same person standing under it.

I started chemotherapy and I am on the path to remission. But I am feeling chronically tired and sick in the meantime. I am still working as i can't afford to not work. I am also doing a full time degree in university. Hence, I will likely be taking a step back from social media for a while. I will be posting updates when I can, but for now requests will be closed.

Thank you all for the immense support you have given me. It means a lot.

With love, Rainy

[littlerainyghoul]

I wonder if kits (baby ghouls) are aware if their own tail. Imagine...

Little kits, barely more than fluff and mischief, tumble through the underbrush on unsteady legs. Their oversized ears twitch at every sound, and their bright eyes gleam with curiosity. But their tails — long, twitchy, and entirely unpredictable — are a mystery to them.

One kit spots the flick of its own tail. They freeze. The tail flicks again.

Enemy spotted.

With a squeaky growl, the kit spins, tripping over their own paws. The tail is gone. But wait — there it is again! The chase is on. Around and around, a blur of fur and determination, the kit circles so fast it forgets why it started.

Nearby, another kit watches, head cocked. Then its tail twitches.

Moments later, the whole den is a cyclone of tiny predators locked in a valiant, hopeless battle against their own behinds.

One by one, they collapse in a fluffy pile, dizzy, victorious, and none the wiser. Their tails, now still, curl like question marks.

[littlerainyghoul]

hi!

just wanted to say that I discovered your regressed ghoul fics recently and they’ve been wonderfully comforting to read while regressed myself

thank you for them!!!!!

AWW I'm glad you like them! Again I'm so sorry it's been quieter. It takes a bit for me to get into the headspace to write ages regression fics.

More are on the way I promise!! :]

[littlerainyghoul]

Steady Hands, Steady Heart

For @nyxtheghoulette

Regressed Dewdrop and Caregiver Mountain Summary: Dewdrop is trapped in the aftermath of a nightmare, panicking as he unintentionally hurts Mountain in his sleep. Filled with guilt and fear, he avoids Mountain, convinced that he’s angry.

Tags and possible trigger warnings: Hurt/Comfort Angst Guilt Vulnerability Nightmare Panic Attack Regression Cuddling

Word Count: 3.5K Read on Ao3

Dewdrop wasn’t happy. Not at all.

Even in sleep, his body refused to rest, caught in a restless cycle of tossing and turning, his limbs twitching with every flicker of the nightmare that refused to release its hold on him. A low, distressed whine slipped from his throat, barely audible in the stillness of the room, his claws curling and uncurling against the sheets as if searching for something—someone—that wasn’t there.

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

The nightmare clung to him like thick fog, suffocating and inescapable, pressing down on all sides with a weight that made his limbs feel sluggish, as if he were trapped in something viscous and unrelenting. He could feel the cold creeping into his bones, an unnatural, aching chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, spreading through his body like an infection that no amount of warmth could chase away.

Alone. Lost. Cold.

The fear curled around his ribs, tightening with every uneven breath he took, every desperate call that left his lips only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence surrounding him. He called for Mountain—reached for him—but there was nothing. No warmth. No steady presence at his side. No solid hands to ground him, to pull him out of the darkness. Only the endless, suffocating emptiness that stretched on forever, swallowing him whole.

A soft, broken whimper escaped him as his body betrayed him, his limbs growing heavier with every passing second, his strength draining as though something unseen was taking it from him. He was stuck, trapped, unable to move, unable to run, unable to find what he so desperately needed, his mind spiraling deeper and deeper into panic as the feeling of helplessness wrapped around him like an iron vice.

And then—something touched him.

The shift was instant, his entire body going rigid, his instincts screaming before his mind had the chance to catch up, fear twisting into something sharp and blinding as he jerked upright. His breath hitched, panic surging through his veins like wildfire, his muscles coiling too tight, his body moving before he could think, before he could stop himself—

His elbow swung out, fast and hard.

A sickening thud. A startled, pained grunt.

His eyes flew open.

Everything was too much—too bright, too sharp, too real—and yet, his brain refused to make sense of it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as his vision swam, his surroundings unfamiliar and suffocating all at once. His heart pounded erratically against his ribs, his claws digging into the sheets as his mind struggled to catch up, to understand—

And then he saw him.

Mountain.

Sitting up, his broad form barely shifting under the weight of the hit, his features still fogged with sleep and confusion as he pressed a large, steady hand to his side where Dew had struck him.

Dew felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, a sickening, lurching sensation that left him lightheaded and dizzy, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse roared in his ears. The panic that had already taken root inside him twisted and morphed into something far, far worse, something sharp and gut-wrenching that made his insides churn with guilt and horror.

He had hurt Mountain.

He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t even been aware—but that didn’t change the fact that he had done it, had lashed out blindly, had hurt the one person he had wanted—needed—to be there the most.

His breathing turned shallow, too quick and uneven, his body shrinking in on itself as the realization sent another violent wave of nausea rolling through him. He had to fix it. He had to do something—but his thoughts were running too fast, slipping through his fingers like sand before he could grasp onto anything solid, and the only thing his panicked, nightmare-drenched brain could come up with was—

Get away.

He moved without thinking, his limbs feeling too light and too heavy all at once as he scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in his rush to put distance between them, his chest tightening painfully as his mind screamed at him to go, go, go.

Mountain’s voice was rough with sleep and concern as he leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Dew?”

Dew flinched at the sound of his name, his claws twitching at his sides as his throat tightened, every muscle in his body wound so tight he thought he might snap apart at the seams.

“I—I gotta go,” he choked out, the words barely making it past the tightness in his chest, barely even sounding like his own voice, before his legs carried him forward, and he ran.

He didn’t stop.

Not until he was far, far away.

It didn’t matter that it had been an accident. It didn’t matter that Mountain was too kind to say he was angry, too patient to lash out, too Mountain to hold it against him. Because he must have been angry, right? Even if he hadn’t yelled, even if he hadn’t looked at Dew with anything other than concern, even if he hadn’t—

Dew squeezed his eyes shut, curling his arms around himself, his claws digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he fought the nausea twisting in his gut.

It didn’t matter.

He had hurt Mountain.

Even now, the memory replayed in his mind on an endless, suffocating loop—waking up in terror, his body moving before his mind, the dull, sickening thud of his elbow connecting with Mountain’s ribs, the way Mountain had grunted in pain, the brief flicker of surprise on his face before Dew had bolted from the room like a coward.

The worst part was that Mountain hadn’t even gotten mad. Hadn’t cursed, hadn’t scowled, hadn’t done anything but look at him with sleepy confusion, concern bleeding into his gaze as if he were the one worried about Dew.

And that? That was so much worse.

Because it left too much room for Dew’s mind to fill in the gaps.

Of course Mountain was upset. Even if he hadn’t said it, even if he hadn’t shown it. How could he not be? Dew had struck him, had lashed out like an animal, had run away like a coward without even checking to see if Mountain was okay. Just because Mountain was too kind to hold it over him didn’t mean he wasn’t angry. It just meant he was keeping it to himself, letting it fester, waiting for the right moment to actually let it show.

So Dew needed to stay away. At least for a little while. Let Mountain cool off. Let himself cool off.

And that was exactly what he did.

For the rest of the morning, Dew avoided Mountain like his life depended on it.

He stuck to the farthest rooms in the abbey, keeping his head down, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, lurking in the quietest corners where he knew no one would bother him. If he had to be around others, he made sure to position himself near an exit, just in case Mountain walked in.

At breakfast, when Mountain sat down at the table, Dew suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore, the mere thought of sitting near him making his stomach churn. He gripped his plate a little too tightly, his claws scraping against the ceramic as he muttered some excuse and left before Mountain could even look his way.

When he caught sight of Mountain in the hallway—broad-shouldered and steady as always—Dew shrank into the shadows, his steps light and quick, his heart hammering as he pressed himself against the cold stone walls and held his breath until Mountain passed.

When he heard Mountain’s voice from another room, deep and calm as ever, Dew’s ears flattened, his tail curling tight around his ankle as he immediately turned on his heel and went the other way, refusing to risk even a glance in his direction.

He was careful. So careful.

And yet, Mountain must have noticed.

Because more than once, Dew caught him looking.

It wasn’t much—just small, quiet glances, his brow furrowed in a way that Dew knew meant he was trying to figure something out, his head tilting slightly when Dew passed him without a word. At one point, when Dew had been too slow to slip away unnoticed, their eyes met across the hallway—just for a second, just long enough for Dew to see the question there, the faint flicker of something that looked almost like hurt—before he tore his gaze away and fled.

But Mountain never said anything.

And of course he didn’t.

Because Mountain was mad at him.

Because Mountain was just waiting for Dew to get over himself, waiting for the right moment to let the frustration boil over, to tell Dew exactly how disappointed he was, how stupid Dew had been for reacting the way he had.

Dew just had to wait for it to pass.

Right?

Because what if Mountain was mad? What if he’d just been holding it in, waiting for Dew to come to him so he could finally let him have it?

No. Dew would rather keep running than risk finding out.

Unfortunately, Cirrus had other plans.

He didn’t even see her coming. One second, he was slipping through an empty hallway, head down, steps quiet, already planning his escape route. The next, a firm hand snatched him by the collar, yanking him backward with surprising strength.

Dew let out a startled yelp, scrambling for balance, but before he could react, Cirrus shoved him into an alcove, pressing him back against the wall with one hand flat against his chest.

His heart jumped, panic flaring hot in his veins—but when he met her eyes, it wasn’t anger he saw. It was something worse.

Irritation.

Disappointment.

Like she was tired of whatever ridiculous thing he was doing.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice clipped, her piercing gaze locked onto his like she could see right through him.

Dew swallowed hard, claws twitching at his sides. “What are you talking about?”

Cirrus rolled her eyes, stepping back just enough to cross her arms over her chest. “Don’t play dumb, Dew. You’ve been skulking around all morning like a kicked puppy. I’ve seen you running from Mountain like he’s out for blood, and spoiler alert, he’s not. So why don’t you quit the theatrics and tell me what’s actually going on?”

Dew’s throat tightened. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her scrutiny. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just—drop it, Cirrus.”

“Not a chance.”

"Dew sighed sharply, frustration bubbling up, but Cirrus didn’t budge. She just stared at him, unimpressed, waiting him out like she always did when she knew he wasn’t being honest.

And, okay, maybe he wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it.

Still, Cirrus wasn’t going anywhere, and Dew knew from experience that she wouldn’t let up until she got something out of him.

So, reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and muttered, “I— I hurt Mountain.”

Cirrus blinked. “You what?”

Dew winced, his tail curling around his leg. “Not—not on purpose, obviously,” he said quickly. “It was an accident. I had a nightmare, and when he tried to wake me up, I panicked and— I elbowed him. Hard.”

Cirrus’ expression shifted slightly, her sharp glare softening just a fraction. But she didn’t say anything, so Dew kept going, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, voice tight. “But I still did it. And Mountain— he didn’t even get mad. He just looked at me. And I— I ran. Like a fucking idiot.”

Cirrus sighed through her nose, pinching the bridge of it like he was giving her a headache. “Dew.”

He clenched his jaw. “What?”

“You are an idiot.”

Dew’s ears flattened. “Wow. Thanks.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “You do realize Mountain isn’t mad at you, right?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

Cirrus gave him a deadpan look. “I do know that, because I actually talked to him today. You should try it sometime.”

Dew frowned, something uneasy settling in his chest. “What did he say?”

Cirrus sighed again, her voice softer now, losing its edge. “He’s worried about you, Dew. That’s why he keeps looking at you. He doesn’t  care that you hit him—he just wants to know why you’re avoiding him like the plague.”

Dew’s breath hitched, guilt clawing at his ribs.

He had been so sure Mountain was angry. So sure that staying away was the right call.

But what if he had been wrong?

Cirrus must have seen the realization hit, because she nudged his shoulder—gentler this time. “Go talk to him, Dew,” she said, and for once, there was no teasing, no bite to her words. Just quiet insistence. “Before you drive yourself insane.”

Dew swallowed hard, his mind spinning, but deep down, he already knew she was right.

So, before he could talk himself out of it, he took a shaky breath—

Dew had wandered aimlessly through the abbey, his steps slow and uncertain. The weight of everything—the guilt, the worry, the constant feeling that he had done something horribly wrong—hung heavily on his shoulders. He couldn’t stay away forever, but he couldn’t bring himself to face Mountain either.

His heart ached with each passing moment, and he just needed something familiar, something safe.

When he finally found it, the warmth of the fire flickered from the hearth in one of the common rooms. The glow cast soft, inviting shadows on the stone walls, and the crackle of the fire was like a gentle whisper in the quiet room. He hesitated in the doorway, a twinge of uncertainty making him pause. But the warmth, the soft hum of comfort in the air—it pulled him in.

He stepped closer, his body instinctively seeking out the familiar warmth of the fire, a small, hidden part of him craving the comfort it offered. The flames danced brightly, their warmth sinking into his skin, and Dew felt his tension ease just a fraction.

He curled up near the edge of the hearth, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. The fire crackled, the room’s stillness settling around him like a heavy blanket. He closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out the heaviness in his chest.

His breathing hitched as something sharp squeezed at his heart again. The guilt. The fear.

His mind raced, and he found himself sinking lower, smaller, as if something inside him was craving the safety of his younger self—the time when things were simpler, when he didn’t have to carry the burden of his own mistakes. His body seemed to respond on its own, a wave of vulnerability rushing over him.

And then, just like that, he was younger.

His chest felt tight as tears sprang to his eyes, his breathing growing faster and more erratic. He was small again, so small and overwhelmed, his body trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t understand. His hands shook as they clutched his legs tighter, his knees pulled up to his chest in a desperate attempt to feel safe.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and before he could stop it, the floodgates opened. He buried his face into his knees, muffling the quiet sobs that wracked through his body.

He couldn’t stop it. The flood of emotion, the overwhelming wave of insecurity, guilt, and fear—it all just spilled out.

His mind kept repeating the same thing, over and over: I hurt Mountain. I hurt Mountain. I hurt him.

The fire crackled softly, but all Dew could hear was the pounding of his heart, the quiet sobs that refused to be held back, and the gnawing feeling that he had messed up beyond repair.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered to no one in particular, his voice small and weak, like he was a child again. “I didn’t mean to hurt him… I just wanted to be… be good.”

His shoulders shook with each sob, the young part of him just wanting someone to fix it, to tell him it was okay, to make it right. He didn’t know how to do it himself.

And just as his sobs began to quiet, a soft, steady presence entered the room. The familiar scent of Mountain—warm and comforting—filled the space, and Dew felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to face him, not like this, not when he was so small and broken inside.

But then, a gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Dew’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Hey, Dew.”

It was Mountain’s voice, low and soothing, as always, full of the kindness Dew didn’t deserve.

Dew’s whole body tensed, but he couldn’t fight the sob that wracked through him. He finally lifted his tear-streaked face, his wide eyes searching Mountain’s as if looking for any sign of anger, any sign that he wasn’t forgiven.

But Mountain’s expression was soft—gentle, even. He knelt down beside Dew, careful not to crowd him, giving him space. His hand remained on Dew’s shoulder, comforting and steady.

“I’m not mad at you,” Mountain murmured, his voice like the warmth of the fire, soothing the raw edges of Dew’s panic. “You’re okay, Dew. You didn’t hurt me. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Dew’s tears only seemed to fall harder at the reassurance, the kindness that filled the space between them. He didn’t know what to do with it. His emotions, his fear, they had been too big for him to carry alone.

“I’m sorry,” Dew whispered through his tears, his voice small and shaky. “I didn’t mean to—hurt you… I just… I just—”

Mountain gently pulled Dew into his arms, wrapping him in warmth, and for a moment, Dew felt like he was back to being small and safe, curled up in his arms like nothing else mattered. His sobs began to quiet as the overwhelming feeling of safety wrapped around him, the warmth of Mountain’s embrace washing away the fears that had been holding him hostage.

“You didn’t hurt me, Dew,” Mountain said softly. “You never could.”

Dew let himself collapse into the comfort of Mountain’s arms, letting the tears flow freely, knowing that, for once, it was okay to be this small, this vulnerable. Mountain wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe—just maybe—he could let go of the fear that had been suffocating him.

For now, that was enough.

He closed his eyes, the quiet of the room lulling him into a space of peace. He felt small again, so small, like the weight of the world had lifted off his tiny shoulders. The overwhelming flood of emotions faded, leaving only the warmth and safety of the moment.

The sobs stopped altogether now, replaced by something softer, something that felt more like a need for comfort than a cry for help. Dew let his body go limp in Mountain’s arms, his hands now clutching at Mountain’s shirt like a small child seeking reassurance.

He felt the instinct to curl up even further, to make himself smaller, to let the security of Mountain’s embrace shield him from everything else. His thumb found its way to his mouth, a soothing gesture from childhood, and he sucked on it absentmindedly, his eyes half-lidded, unable to fully focus on anything but the warmth he felt in this moment.

Mountain didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply held Dew as he was, letting the ghoul’s body relax against his own, feeling the smaller form trembling just slightly, still caught in the remnants of his emotions. Mountain’s hand continued to stroke Dew’s back, a calming rhythm, never once pulling away, always offering comfort. He knew what Dew needed now more than anything: patience.

Dew’s breathing slowed, growing steadier as he sank deeper into the regression. The room around him felt distant, the fire’s warmth still crackling gently beside them, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the steady presence of Mountain, his solid warmth, his quiet, unshakable support.

His mind, his thoughts, everything about him started to dissolve into a soft, dreamlike state as he regressed fully into the comfort of the moment. His body, still nestled against Mountain, felt so small, so innocent, like a child once again—free from the heavy weight of worry, free from guilt and fear. He could let go now. There was no need to hold onto anything anymore.

“Mounty” Dew whispered softly, his voice muffled in the warmth of Mountain’s chest, barely above a breath. “I feel… safe.”

Mountain’s arms tightened around Dew gently, the promise of safety and protection evident in every movement. “You always will be, Dew. You’re always safe with me.”

[littlerainyghoul]

Please forgive me if this is unwanted or too personal of an ask, but I just wanted to say-

It's okay to take breaks. It's okay to need time, to need space. You don't owe anyone here anything, and you deserve to take time for yourself for as long as you need. Please don't feel bad or obligated to apologize because of it; what's most important is that you're taking care of yourself the best you can.

Drink some water, get a snack, take some meds if you have any/need to, and be gentle with yourself. Everything's gonna be okay!

Op this is so sweet <3 Thank you for being gentle and understanding <3

[littlerainyghoul]

Could we get a little sickfic with regressed Aurora?

Again, i am super sorry for how long this took. It took me sooo long to get into the mindset i needed to write this again.

To be honest with you, I'm a little regressed myself as I'm writing this so it's likely reflected. As always, you can find this on AO3, but do bear in mind there are things not suitable for littles, but I will keep the two separate :)

Baby Aurora’s Sniffly Cuddle Time

Regressed Aurora and Caregiver Papa Copia

Aurora didn’t feel good. Not even a tiny bit.

Her head was all fuzzy-wuzzy, her throat felt all scratchy like mean sandpaper, and her nose was stuffy and sniffly. It was awful. No fun at all. She had tried curling up in her bed with her stuffed kitty, tried hugging her blankets super duper tight, but nothing made her feel better.

So she did the only thing that made sense—she went to find Papa.

She toddled her way down the hall, her bunny slippers making little shuffly noises against the floor. Every step felt super heavy, like she was walking through a big squishy swamp. Her little arms wrapped around her stuffed kitty, and she let out a tiny sniffly whimper as she pushed open the door to Papa’s study.

Papa was sitting in his big cozy chair, reading one of his big books. His funny little reading glasses were perched on his nose, and his big fluffy coat was wrapped around his shoulders like a warm hug. But the second he looked up and saw her, his eyebrows scrunched all worried-like, and he closed his book right away.

“Oh, tesorina,” he murmured, his voice all soft and gentle. “What’s the matter, little one?”

Aurora sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with her fist. “Feel bad,” she mumbled, her voice all wobbly and sleepy.

Papa’s face got even more concerned. “Oh, poverina.” He opened his arms, and Aurora didn’t waste a single second—she climbed right into his lap, snuggling up against his chest like a sleepy little kitten.

“There, there,” Papa murmured, wrapping his arms around her all nice and snug. His big gloved hand started rubbing slow, warm circles against her back. “You’re all warm, piccolina. You have a little fever, don’t you?”

Aurora just let out a teeny-tiny whimper and nuzzled closer, pressing her nose into his robes. “Mmhm,” she mumbled, her words all mushy. “Don’ like it.”

“Oh, I know, dolcezza,” Papa cooed, rocking her just a little. “Papa’s got you now. You just rest, my sweet.”

She let out a tiny, sleepy purr, her little body melting against him. His heartbeat was all slow and steady, like a lullaby just for her. He smelled nice too, all warm and safe, like incense and cinnamon and something soft, like honey.

For a little while, he just held her, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head every now and then. It made her feel all warm and floaty, like she was wrapped up in a big, soft cloud.

But then Papa hummed, tilting his head down to look at her. “I think maybe some juice would help, tesorina. Would you like some?”

Aurora scrunched up her nose. “‘M not hungry.”

Papa chuckled, giving her back a gentle pat. “Juice is not food, silly thing. It will help you feel better, I promise.”

Aurora thought about it for a second. Juice was kinda yummy. And Papa never tricked her, not ever.

“…Wha’ kind?” she asked, peeking up at him with big sleepy eyes.

Papa smiled, reaching over to grab the little sippy cup he always kept on his desk just for her. He unscrewed the lid and poured some juice from the fancy glass bottle he always had, then held it up for her to see.

“Mela,” he said. “Sweet apple. Your favorite, sì?”

Aurora let out a teeny, happy hum. Apple juice was her favorite.

Papa held the cup up to her lips, and she took a small, slow sip. The juice was all cool and sweet and made her throat feel a little less scratchy. She let out a tiny sigh and took another sip, Papa watching her the whole time with soft, gentle eyes.

“There we go,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Bravissima, tesoro. That will help.”

Aurora yawned, her eyes already starting to close again as she cuddled back into his chest. “Stay wif you?” she mumbled, her voice all sleepy and small.

Papa tucked her in even closer, wrapping his big fluffy coat around her like an extra blanket. “Of course, little one. You stay right here with Papa.”

Aurora let out one last, teeny little purr before she drifted off, all safe and warm and cozy in Papa’s arms.

[littlerainyghoul]

I am so sorry I disappeared from here for several months. I kinda couldn't write anything age-regression related for a while. I am really sorry about that and you deserve better communication.

[littlerainyghoul]

Story time 🩷

[littlerainyghoul]

Baby regression 🍼

- sleepy Whining and eye rubs

- sleeping on your tummy or curled up in a ball

- drinking from a bottle!!

{especially if your not holding it}

- being held!!

- being cradled and bounced!!!

- nonsense coos and babbling

- fussing and clinging to your caregiver <33

- Always wanting a little nap

i love babyspace, it’s where i usually regress too

[littlerainyghoul]

You’re still doing okay as a regressor if you…

✨ : are usually upset or in a negative situation when you regress

🎀 : don’t know what age you regress to

🍼 : act mainly as a caregiver but still regress

🫧 : have done things you regret when regressed

✨ : cannot control your regression

🎀 : are mainly a regressor but also a caregiver

🍼 : feel like a burden for being disabled and needing extra or specific care

🫧 : are worried to tell people about your regression

✨ : can’t really tell the difference between when you regress and when you don’t

🎀 : are afraid of getting / don’t want a caregiver due to trauma / other circumstances

🍼 : do things considered “big” or “adult” when regressed

🫧 : are an alter who can’t tell if you’re a regressor or a syskid / ageslider

✨ : deal with intrusive and un-childlike thoughts / behaviors

🎀 : you are always deserving of comfort, safety, and a happy regression 𓂃⊹

reposted blog ~ credits

[littlerainyghoul]

This is what being regressed is like. 2 me

If you're a nsfw blog you don't have my consent to interact 🖕 this is a sfw space and I'm also a minor bodily. Same goes if you have -18 on your dni, for obvious reasons. This includes likes, even though they don't do anything it is still interaction.

I will check, even not claiming to be a nsfw blog but having nsfw reblogged will result in a block

[littlerainyghoul]

Edible cookie dough recipe for regressors ☆´ˎ˗︶︶︶

gif credits

Who doesn't love cookies? Or, alternatively, who doesn't love scraping the bowl for leftover cookie dough? Because I love it, a lot, it makes me feel very small! That's why I started looking for edible cookie dough recipes, and after some tests and adaptations I made my very own recipe!

Basic Ingredients ☆´ˎ˗

for every 1 cup of all purpose flour, you'll need...

🥣: 1/2 cup of brown sugar

🍪: 1/2 cup of softened salted butter

🥣: 1/4 cup of milk

You can use granulated sugar instead of brown sugar for a more sugar cookie-like flavor

You can use edible flours (such as: almond flour, coconut flour) instead of all purpose flour and skip the heat treating step altogether

Instructions ☆´ˎ˗

🍪: Heat treating the flour: to make sure the flour is safe to eat raw you'll need to heat treat it. This can be done in three ways

With an oven: Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Spread the flour on a tray, over baking paper, and bake it for 5-8 minutes

With a stove: spread the flour in a saucepan, turn the heat to low and stir it for ~2 minutes. Be careful to not burn the flour!

With a microwave: Microwave the flour for 30 seconds and stir the flour so the heat can be evenly distributed, and repeat the process 2-4 times. Remember to use a microwave-safe bowl!

🥣: Mix in the butter and sugar, and whisk them together until fluffy

🍪: Add the flour and the milk to the mixture and mix until homogeneous. The end result should have a soft and thick texture and hold itself together well.

Adding in flavor ☆´ˎ˗

Now, if the plain cookie dough isn't enough, here's some extra ingredients for specific flavors

🥣: 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract for a classic vanilla flavor

🍪: 2 tablespoons of peanut butter for a peanut butter flavor

🥣: 2 teaspoons of coffee powder for a coffee flavor

Adding the sprinkles ☆´ˎ˗

To finish off, a perfect cookie is usually adorned with sprinkles for added texture and colorfulness! This step is completely optional

🍪: Traditional chocolate chips

🥣: All kinds of confetti, hundreds & thousands, etc

🍪: M&Ms or skittles

🥣: Chopped chocolate

🍪: Chopped nuts

Enjoy! ☆´ˎ˗

🥣: This recipe serves around 6 portions and the measures can be cut or increased for less or more portions

🍪: This recipe can be stored in a fridge for around a week and can be added to ice creams and milkshakes

🥣: This recipe cannot be baked! It was made to be eaten raw

[littlerainyghoul]

oh nooo:( i hope you get well soon!

okay, soft thoughts:

Rain is the type of cg, who makes sure that his outfit matches with baby Dewdrop’s outfit!

Little Phantom has the most irresistible puppy eyes! They always get what the wanted if they use their “weapon”!

if you need more of them, let us know!

Awww thank youuuuu <33333

[littlerainyghoul]

Im at hospital can i have some soft thoughts? 🥹

[littlerainyghoul]

gon a preten da ghools ar here and cuddlis and eepy an no meeny no showty only heppi thooghts and no mo crying ;-;

[littlerainyghoul]

Not me writing a sick-fic while sick myself

[littlerainyghoul]

i’m opening up ficlet requests again !!!

i’ve still got a lot to work through but my hope is that some fresh requests will prompt me to get back into writing ficlets and inspire me to fill the ones currently in my ask box :))