#canon agere

[babybatxxx]

Friendly reminder that Nimona is canonically a teen permaregressor!

Although it’s not stated directly that Nimona didn’t age mentally she’s implied to still have the mental capacity of a edgy rebellious teenager despite living 100s of years.

[alolababy]

✧·*:💎✨💎✨💎✨💎✨💎:*·✧ 👘🍡 Yotsuyu / Tsuyu Agere Stimboard! 🍵🌸 x x x / x x x / x x x .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[chickpea0]

Someone please draw to//ki and nurse ben//dy on a play date and with every canon age regressor we add them on please and thank you

[bunnelbaby]

anytime you worry about consuming not so child friendly content when regressed, just remember that the most well known age regression representation we have come from shows intended for mature audiences: nurse bendy from moral orel and toki wartooth from metalocalypse.

[haljordns]

*shouting from a rooftop* start making regression content for that character nobody cares about but you ‼️

[cherry-koi]

puppies and kitties can play together !!

[the-universal-sun]

what if instead of stan punching ford when he was branded he regressed

I love this idea! And sorry it took so long, I could only see this request on mobile and not my computer for some reason

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ahhh!” Stan screams, the pain in his shoulder was like fire scorching his skin. He clutches at his shoulder, he’s not touching the burn but he can feel the heat radiating off of it, coming in waves. He whimpers, all the fight leaving him, unwitting tears leaking from his eyes as he stifles a sob. It hurts so bad, worse than anything he’s been through. He hates this, he hates the pain, he’s tired of the pain. He doesn’t know why this is affecting him so much, because it was Ford who caused it? But, Ford didn’t mean it, did he? His brother, his big brother, wouldn’t mean to hurt him, right? He rocks himself, almost violently, hoping to at least soothe the torrent in his mind.

“Oh my gosh, Stanley! A-are you alright?” He can hear Ford call out as he rushes over to check, but he can’t bring himself to speak, the pain in his shoulder too great and his tongue feeling too thick. He just moans lowly in his throat, wincing as he feels Ford prod at the edges of his burn. Hearing his brother talk to him without scorn for the first time in a decade is what causes his sobbing, unaccustomed to and sorely missing his brother’s words and presence, He finds it hard to breathe with his tears, he rocks faster and faster until he’s stopped by a hand on his other shoulder. He finally looks up to Ford, throat tight and eyes wet and blurry. Stan doesn’t know what Ford sees in his face, but whatever it is has him gently hauling him up and guiding him to the basement’s elevator. Stan’s legs are heavy, like his tongue, and don’t want to move, so he stumbles a lot, his brother having to keep him steady. He winces, scared to get yelled at again, but Ford says nothing, just tightens his hand around Stan’s waist. The elevator ride is silent, Stan doesn’t speak, he just leans against Ford, thinking about how long it’s been since he’s done this, instead of the pain.

After what seems like forever, they make it upstairs and hobble into a room at Ford’s direction. It’s a bathroom. Stan distantly wonders if there’s hot water, he hasn’t had hot water in forever. Would he be able to shower, with his shoulder? Stan starts to think there’s something else he should be worried about when Ford makes him sit on the toilet, stepping away. He grasps at Ford’s coat, bringing him closer, so scared he’s going to leave him, making him be all alone again. He doesn’t want to be all alone again

“Stanley, I have to get a first aid kit to help and examine you. Your burn is very serious, infection is a dangerous possibility.” Ford tries to pull away again, but Stan buries his head in Ford’s and shakes his head, silently begging for him to stay. “Stanley, please,” Ford sounds exasperated, grabbing Stan’s hands to pull them off, “I need you to-” he whimpers out a vaguely sobbed ‘no’, clenching tighter to the coat. He feels Ford kneel down, his hands bringing Stan’s up, making their eyes connect. He speaks softly. “Stanley-Lee, come on. I won’t be far, the first aid kit is right under the sink here, you can still see me. Okay?” Ford stands up, backing away slowly as Stan lets the coat slide from his fingertips. Stan grasps the end of his brother's coat, still looking at him. He needs this contact, he’s scared Ford will leave and disappear if he doesn’t keep a hold on him. Ford just stares at him, a weird look in his eye, before he steps towards the sink and opens the cabinet underneath, rummaging for the first aid kit. All with Stan grasping his coat.

Ford steps back to Stan and tries to step behind him when Stan panics again, turning to face him. What if Ford leaves when Stan can’t see him?! He’ll never be able to find him then! Stan can feel more tears leak and the ache in his throat and chest get worse at the thought of losing his brother again. He can feel Ford hovering around him before something gets shoved in his lap. He looks down to see his brother’s coat, but wasn’t he wearing this? Stan looks back up, Ford’s hands are hovering right in front of him.

“There, now that you have my coat, I can’t leave. Now can I please see to your burn?” Stan can’t argue with that logic, it’s super cold outside, and his brother’s too smart to go play in the snow with no coat on. Subdued, Stan turns his back to Ford, letting him look at his shoulder. It really does hurt a lot now that he’s not so worried about Ford leaving him. Ford’s silent as he pokes and prods at his burn, anytime he hisses and whimpers in pain, his brothers hand strokes his head, calming him. Stan hears scissors snapping and feels Ford cut away his shirt and jacket. He sniffles, holding back tears, this was his warmest coat, his only coat, and now he’s gonna freeze. Stan brings his legs up the the toilet seats he’s sitting on and buries his face in his knees, using Ford’s jacket to wipe away his tears and hide his face until his burn is fixed up.

It takes forever, but Stan feels Ford finally cover his burn with a bandage. Just in time for Stan to release a big yawn, rubbing his eye with one hand, the other still clutching Ford’s coat. Now that everything’s hitting him, Stan feels really sleepy, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“Stanley, how do you feel?” Ford’s kneeling in front of him again. How does he feel? He feels light, fuzzy, kind of hazy? He doesn’t really know, and he can’t speak anyways, so he just shrugs and blinks slowly. He stands with Ford as he walks over to the door, Stan grabbing his hand and clutching it tightly before he could open it.

“Stanley, really I-“ Ford doesn’t finish what he was saying, he just looks. Stanley yawns again, swaying on his feet. If his tongue weren’t so heavy, he’d ask for jammies and to sleep. Ford must have read or mind, his brother’s so smart, because all he does is softly say something about getting Stan some clothes and getting him a room. He follows Ford as he walks, holding his hand, before he freezes. His bag! Stan’s bag is still by the front door and he needs it! It’s got Poindexter, and he can’t sleep without Poindexter!

He walks to where he can kind of remember where the door was, still holding Ford’s hand, dragging him along and tuning out his protests. He gets to the bag and finally lets go of his brother’s hand, bending down and rummaging through it until he finds and brings out Poindexter. He turns around to show him to Ford, shoving him in Ford’s face.

“Stanley what-Ack! Yes I see it! Very nice-“ Stan shakes his stuffy, Ford’s not getting it! He points to Poindexters glasses and then to Ford’s, trying to tell him that they’re matching. “Y-yes, your-um. Your bear and I both wear glasses, Stanley, that’s very fun. Listen, why don’t you get some pajamas from your bag-“ Stan cuts him off, shaking his head. He doesn’t have any pajamas, just some shirts and pants, nothing he can sleep in.

“You don’t have pajamas? Stanley, I-I…” Ford doesn’t finish his sentence, he looks really sad, which confuses Stan. He doesn’t know why Ford’s looks sad. He shuffles on his feet, clutching Poindexter and Ford’s coat tighter, he really wants to go to bed now. Ford must want to, too because he doesn’t finish his sentence, grabbing his wrist and guiding him to a room with a really ugly carpet. He’s so distracted by the ugly carpet that he doesn’t notice his brother left his line of sight until Ford’s in front of him, trying to get him to raise his arms. He lets Ford move him, too sleepy to protest. Ford dresses him in a cozy sweater, tight but warm and clean, and moves Stan to the couch in the room.

“You can sleep here tonight, Stanley. It’s the only room with a bed right now. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Ford covers him him a blanket and tries to leave, but Stan grabs his hand again. Staring up at him, begging him to stay. He buried his head in Ford’s hand, hearing him sigh. “Just until you fall asleep, Stanley.” And Stan relaxes, happy that Ford’s watching over him, that he’s staying with him and won’t leave him alone. He’s so tired, it doesn’t take him long to drift off, curled up tight against the couch, clutching Ford’s hand, his coat, and Poindexter. He manages to move his heavy tongue to mumble a ‘night-night’ to Ford, and Poindexter, before he falls fully asleep, his eyes too heavy to open any more.

“I’m sorry, Lee”

[multi-fandom-agereg]

🩹 What if... 🩹 CG!Stanford + Reg!Bill

☁️💤 I suppose this is an odd choice of cg×little duo, but that's what I aimed for. The two deserve to be happy and I believe somewhere, they care about each other too

Commissions open 🙏

[sillystringsimpsons]

random doodles

[kayakoto-enterprises]

Your f/o understands it when you need to age regress. They may not know about it or fully understand it but they will try to learn more to accomodate your needs. They will listen and maybe even offer to become your caregiver if you two would be comfortable with it. They'll learn to understand the language and do their best to make you feel loved and comfortable. You can always tell them how you need to be comforted, how you'd like to play, what are your limits, what to do when you vent regress, etc. Anything. Anything so you're happy.

Proship do not interact🍓

[little-pup-pip]

sorry if this one is weird, but would it be possible to do one around gloomy bear? and yes paci please if it's not too much trouble?

Here you go!!

[idontplaytrack]

well the little reader x gina fic was amazing, wouldn't expect anything else from it. Do you think we could get a little more of them? Pretty please?

Pretty like…

Regina George x fem! reader

Warnings: age regression, fluff

Cozy fall day with Regina 🧡

The usual green leaves have turned into crisp shades of orange and browns, the air's turned chilly, the people were bundled up in thicker layers and comfy outfits. The fall atmosphere always felt like the epitome of comfort to you, and you loved that.

Regina was typically a little grouchy because the weather wasn't particularly good for her back, but doesn't really complain seeing that you were so happy, obviously.

You had no classes today, but Regina did. She had a lecture from nine in the morning to noon while you only woke up at 10:30 so you didn't have to kill a lot of time before Regina came by. Since you were home alone, you were more relaxed because there was no one around to ask you what you were up to.

You were dozing off when you heard the front door open, and some swift steps walking up the stairs.

Because of that, you jolted awake, blinking profusely. Then someone knocked on your bedroom door. "Hey, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Yeah." You answered. The door opens up slowly a second later. "Hi, baby." She grins, "How you doin'?"

You rolled over onto your stomach, face smushed into the mattress. "I take it that means you're sleepy." She laughs, sitting down on your bed.

"No." You answered with a pout. She rubs your back, "C'mon, you can sleep if you want to, baby. That’s okay. Turn around.”

“Uh-uh.” You continued.

“Look at me, baby.” Regina nudged, “I don’t want you to face downwards.”

Slowly, you did as she told you to. “Hey, you.” Regina tickled your stomach, making you giggle. “Can I have a kiss?”

You nodded, puckering your lips as she leaned down to peck your lips.

“Should we get something to eat?” She asks, eyes locked in with yours. 

“Yes.” You agreed.

“Should we…go out?” 

You nodded excitedly, making her smile. “What do you want?” 

“Fries?” You asked.

“Okay, let’s go for some fries.” She helped you up and got you appropriately dressed for the chilly weather outside before you both got in her car. “Stay seated, okay?” She says while buckling you in. “Promise.” You nodded firmly. “Good.” Regina replied then started driving. Eventually, you both wound up in a quiet little diner a little ways away from where you both lived. You don’t remember this place. 

“Okay, here we are.” Regina declared while parking in the lot. “Best fries in Evanston. And they have really yummy ice cream.” 

“Ooh, I want ice cream toooo.” 

“We’ll be getting some, after lunch.” 

“Alright.” You sulked.

“Hey, I promise, baby.” She laughs. You do the same while she unbuckles your seatbelt. “Let’s go have some food.”

She took your hand and led you to the diner. Quickly, you were both seated in a both and looking through the menu. Well…she was looking through the menu, you were drawing on the paper laid on the table with crayons. “We’ll be getting fries. But do you want grilled cheese?” She asks, “Or pancakes?” 

“Pancakes.” You decided, eyes focused on your drawing. “Sure.” Regina nodded, “With chocolate chips or sprinkles?”

You gasped softly, “I want sprinkles. Please?”

“Absolutely.” She couldn’t help but allow her lips to tug into a little bit of a smile. Then, she ordered the food before joining you in the doodling. “Aw, that’s cute.” She pointed out, “The puppy has a hat.”

You chuckled over your words, “He does.” 

After a leisurely lunch, you and Regina split a hot fudge sundae before going on the road again. Unbeknownst to you, Regina rips off the part of the paper with your drawing of the puppy with a hat. She wanted to keep that. “Alright, now…let’s go have a little bit of fun.”

“Where we going?”

“We are going to a corn maze, then going home to make some s’mores.”

“Okay.” You answered, still giggly. Regina has noticed this after taking care of you for a while now, she secretly loves it. The corn maze was really just an excuse for her to keep holding onto your hand and keeping you close. Not that it was going to be scary, but…she was just truly taking advantage of your clinginess when regressed to show you some more physical affection— freely. You dozed off briefly. The weather was very nice and made it extremely easy for you to sleep. When you woke up, Regina was parking the car again. “Hi, sleepyhead. We’re here.” She lets out an exhale in amusement, “C’mon.” You followed her lead, though you’d really like to be curled up in her lap for a nap right about now, but you pushed through and focused on the activity in front of you. “Do you want something to drink?”

You nodded, mumbling in agreement while you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Regina bought an apple cider on the way to the corn maze for you both to share. You just clung onto her arm, somewhat leaning onto her while you walked. “Here.” She held the bottle for you, the straw by your lips, “Apple cider.”

You took a sip and your face scrunched up feeling the carbonation of the beverage. Regina was obviously amused and laughed, “You okay?”

Well, that woke you up.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, going in for another sip. Regina could actually get through the maze in a breeze but she took her time with it, and even took some photos of you, then some with you. “Since we’re here…and there’s a bunch of trees around, you wanna jump in some leaves?”

————

Admittedly, she never thought she’d be where she was today, especially in a role like this one, caring for you in this way. But, she loved you dearly. After some weeks, Regina had processed it all, read up more on age regression and even talked to you about it. If anyone was going to keep you safe and make you feel loved it was going to be her. Regina admires the guts it took for you to open up to her, and her heart was happy by how much you trusted her. Now that things were how they were, she wouldn’t want them any other way. You were doing so much better being able to heal and reclaim a part of your childhood that you had lost. 

“Reggie!” You gasped, tugging on her arm.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can we get that?” You pointed to one of the stalls selling a snack.

“Sure.” She said yes instantly, then got you the candy apple you asked for. You shared that with her of course, while sitting under a tree. “Look here, baby.” She taps your thigh to get your attention. You turned your head, but weren't paying much attention to her or what she was doing. She was taking photos of you, actually, But you couldn’t care less and just enjoyed the sweet treat. She laughs heartily, brushing the hair out of your face, “Is it good?”

“Mhm.” You beamed. 

“Can I have some?”

You held it out for her to take a bite out of, “Ooh, yum.”

“Thank you.” You told her, still chuckling just slightly. “I really gotta be careful with how much sugar you eat.” She jokes, “Can’t stop giggling, can you, sweetie?”

“No.” You replied, pursing your lips together. 

“You’re so cute.” She pinches your cheek, sneaking a bigger bite of the candy apple.

You noticed that though, “Aw.”

“We’re making s’mores tonight.” She reminded you, “But now I’m thinking maybe not.”

You pouted, “Okay.”

“But tomorrow…we could.” Regina continues.

She finished up the candy apple for you then the drive home began. Regina let you play with some games on her phone in the meantime while you quite literally talked her ear off. She stayed very engaged with you in the conversation though— there wasn’t a single moment of silence from the start of the drive until she returned to her place. Regina decided on that herself, but knew you’d appreciate it not having to deal with any suspicion from either of your parents. 

Before you knew it, dinner was finished and you were already getting ready for bed. No s’mores tonight, but Regina sure made up for it with the cuddles. “You sleepy yet?”

“No.” You shook your head, playing with her fingers. 

“No?” Regina gasped dramatically.

“Uh-uh.”

“Well, I’ll be right here holding you if you do fall asleep. In the meantime…did you have fun today?”

“Yup.” You let go of her hand, she rests it on your torso. 

“I’m glad you did.” She caresses your abdomen soothingly, “I had fun too.” She lays down with you upon your request. “Close your eyes, baby. Get some sleep, we have a pretty long day tomorrow.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, snuggling closer to her.

“Fine?” She repeated, you usually didn’t use this word with her when you regress. Regina smirked, “Learnt a new word?”

You simply kept quiet, face smushed against her chest while her fingers combed through your hair and scratched your scalp. “Really, though. I’m gonna need you to sleep soon.” You both had classes the next day, and she wanted you awake early enough so she was sure you were okay to go to class.

“Night night.” You murmured.

“Good night, baby.” 

“I luv you.” You mumbled. 

“I love you more.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to your head.

The day has been pretty, like a warm summer night with clear skies. Like Christmas lights twinkling all around town every winter, like colourful flowers and birds chirping in the spring…but fall, was Regina’s favourite. The warmth she feels from the colours of the leaves changing, despite the chill in the air setting in. It was her favourite because of you, the day she’s just had with you. It was picture perfect, exactly like she’d imagined. And she couldn’t wait for more of these with you. It was like she’s begun to see the world through a completely different lens and she loves it. Regina loves how she appreciates the little things, she loves how she’s been more present, she loves how she loves. You’ve changed her, and she wasn’t afraid. She was going all in with you and she couldn’t have been more sure of what she wants in her life. You.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Vision that literally came to me in a dream:Kandi bracelet with a Ramona Flowers charm on one end and a Bluey Heeler charm on the other

[mukuharakazui]

"Alphabet mafia" was funny (courtesy of @birthclod) so here are my alphabet mafia + nationality headcanons for Town of Salem's best faction (sorry to the roles without skins </3)

[the-universal-sun]

little stan crying for his mom and ford/fidds having to try and comfort him 🤞🤞🤞🤞

Nonny, I had a hard time deciding on whether I wanted to do Ford or Fidds as Stan’s caregiver, but I decided there wasn’t enough Stan and Fidds! Forewarning, there is mention of death of a loved one and some minor cursing! So, please don’t read if this is sensitive, uncomfortable, or triggering for you!

Stanley’s had a rough day. No scratch that, he’s had a rough week. No, scratch that, he’s had a rough life. But he thinks today might just take the cake for how damn shitty his life is. He got a call from Shermie today, technically Ford did because he, Stanley, is literally dead to his family. And now normally he likes his calls with Shermie, the updates on his nephew and his eldest brother's life are a nice reprieve from the tourists and the portal work, but he wishes he never picked up the phone today. Shermie didn’t call to update him on his son's college life or how California is. He called to tell him that mom passed. Their mom. His mom. She’s gone, going into the ground and he’ll never see her again. Hug her again, never talk to her again. Or taste her Latkes, she’s never going to send him Sufganiyots every holiday season.  He’s never going to be around his Ma’ ever again. He hasn’t been around her since the fake funeral, and now he’ll never get the chance to again.

He slid down the wall he balanced himself on when he first heard the news, the telephone hanging by the cord, he didn’t even realize he dropped it, were his hands shaking? He’s on the floor, but his knees still feel so weak, why? He lifts his shaking hands up to his face, wiping off the tears that keep streaming down his face, his white shirt already darkening where the missed tears hit. His chest hurt and his head felt tight, or was that the other way around? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t think. He doesn’t want to think. He can’t think. He just wants his mama, to be held in her arms again like he used to, before he got too big and grown up to be held and rocked, with her stories and lullabies. He can’t even stifle his sobs, and he hates himself for it because he’s a man and men don’t cry. He didn’t cry when Flbrick passed. Hell, he didn’t even show up to the funeral, so why is he sobbing like a baby now?

“Stanford? Stanford are you there? I-I know this is a lot to process, but I need your help planning her funeral. Can you-” At Shermie’s mention of a funeral, Stan let out a wail before he clasped his hands over his mouth, not wanting to alert Fidds or Shermie to his aching chest and furthering fuzzy head. He’s so in his head that he doesn’t hear Fiddleford’s footsteps or register his voice.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Stanley, are you alright? I heard a noise an’ I-” Fiddleford stops short at the scene in the kitchen. He takes a moment to process what he’s seeing. Stanley’s sobbing on the floor with the phone off the hook. He can hear someone’s tinny voice coming through the hanging phone. He walks over to Stan, kneeling down and trying to see his face.

           “Stan? Hon, are you alright? What happened?” He asks quietly, voice panicked. Is Stan hurt? He doesn’t see anything indicating that, and Stan’s usually so strong against pain, he’s only seen him cry when regressed….Oh dear. Oh this isn’t good. Stan was having a good day, a really good one, until he briefly stepped away from dinner to take a phone call and now he’s on the floor sobbing and most likely regressed. Fiddleford pulls at his hair, not as hard as he used to before Stan but still hard enough to get him to focus. Focus and be calm is what he needs to do. He’s a Father, a Big Brother, and a Caregiver, he can deal with tears. He can do this. He takes a deep breath in, exhales it out, and stands up, grabbing the phone on his way. He’s going to see who and what just upset his baby.

“Stanford! C’mon man! I need you to talk to me here-” Fiddleford heard from the telephone receiver as he brought it up to his ear.

“Dr. McGucket, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” He asked coldly, not liking the angry tone of the man on the other end. This is the one who probably upset his Pumpkin, and he will not stand for that yelling or anything as such directed towards his family. It doesn’t matter who the man on the other end is, he will shut down any and all attempts to strong arm or deride Stanley.

“Dr. Mc-What it? Listen, I need to speak with Stanford right now, so just-put him back on the phone. It’s important family stuff, so, none-ya-business-” came the irritated reply from the man steadily making an enemy out of a one Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

“I’m Stan’s research partner, Dr. Fiddleford McGucket, and Stanford is currently-” he looks down at his boy, still sobbing, but now wrapped around his legs, and his eyes softened, “-indisposed at the moment. I assure you, Sir, that I’ll be sure to relay any messages back to him. Now, I ask again, who are you and what’s your business with Stan?”

“It’s Shermie, his big brother. Listen, I’ll call back whenever he’s not uh- “indisposed”-” Fiddleford can just hear the air quotes, “and all. Just let him know that I need help with Ma’s funeral, okay, Dr. Whatever? Bye.” Fiddleford hears that dial tone and his heart feels heavy in his chest. Oh no, oh his poor, poor baby. He loved his mama so much, always smiled for hours after talking to her, and now she’s-

Fiddleford lowers himself to kneel beside Stan, whose arms are still wrapped around his leg, and gently lifts his face to look at him. He sees Stan’s tear stained face, his lips in the biggest and wobbliest frown he’s ever seen on his boy's face and he finds himself at a loss for words.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry about your Ma’.” Is the only thing he can think to say at the moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hearing those words, Stan feels the ache in his tummy get worse, his throat burns, and he can’t stop the new tears as they go down his face. He wasn’t dreaming it or thinking wrong, if Fidds’ is saying that, then Mama must really be gone, but he doesn't want her to be gone! He wants to hug his Mama now!

He buries his head in Fidds’ chest, sobbing so hard he finds it hard to breathe. He knows he’s gettin’ tears an’ snot on Fidds’ nice white shirt, but he doesn’t say anything. He just rocks them and rocks them, and pats his back and talks to him. Stan can’t hear what he’s saying, but he always likes to hear his voice, Stan’s always found it so nice to listen to his Fidd speak to him, even though he can’t understand what he says.

He feels Fidds chest rise and fall in a big way, and matches it because Fidds taught him that to calm him down when he’s feeling these big emotions, when he can’t swallow and his tummy hurts like it does now. He looks up at Fidds, and he can’t say what the look on his face is, but it makes Stan's tummy ache worse, so he just buries his face in the shirt again.

He feels himself being lifted up and walked somewhere. He doesn’t want to walk anywhere, but his knees were hurting sitting down, so he guesses this is fine. He blinks when a bright light turns on and he’s sat down. They’re in the bathroom? He sniffles, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes and looks around, he’s confused on why they’re here, he doesn’t want to take a bath. He doesn’t want to do anything but lay down with Poindexter and cry and miss Mama. Except he doesn’t want to do that either because it hurts to cry and miss her, it always does, but there’s no more calling her when he misses her any more because she’s gone! His lips wobble and he can feel the tears in his eyes again, but he doesn’t want to cry again, he’s a big boy and big boys don’t cry! Stan startles when he feels a warm and wet washcloth gently touch his face, wiping away his snot and tears. He looks at Fidds, who’s kneeling in front of him with a serious look on his face.

“Now, Stanley, I know what you’re going through is hard. It’s the toughest thing anyone can go through, so it’s alright to cry. Ah!” Fidds cuts off when Stan shakes his head, “None o’ that, Love Bug, crying is healthy and good for the soul. Lord knows I’ve done enough crying to know how it can feel like a release. So it’s okay to cry, you loved your Ma’, and it’s a painful feeling, that loss. I lost my momma when I was about to graduate high school, and it was the hardest thing I’ve been through. I cried like a baby every day for weeks. Does that make me less of a man?” Stan quickly shook his head, feeling dizzy from the force of it. Fidds was one of the manliest people he knows (excluding the entire Corduroy family), he’s super duper smart, and he can cook, and he can chop woods, and Stan saw him tackle a Deer once! Fidds is so cool, smart, and manly!

“Exactly, crying is nothing but a human emotion, and you’re a human, you can let yourself feel your emotions, Stanley. I promise you, I will not make fun of you, no teasing, no nothing of the sort, ya’hear?” Stan nods his head, “Good. It’s okay to grieve, I want you to grieve, I want you to remember your Ma’, all the good she’s brought in your life and how much love she filled it with, I want you to always remember her, okay?” Stan feels more tears fall down his face, his Fidds is so wise. He knows how to help Stanley, what to say and do, even when Stanley doesn’t know why he’s feeling a sort of way, or can’t find himself to speak or think. He loves his Fidds, he wishes he had him as a dad instead of him, then life would’ve been super better, probably great even!

“But, don’t get stuck in your feelings, you can remember and love your Ma’ all you want and need, but you need to remember there’s other people that care about you. I care about you so much, so many people in town care about you. So when you find yourself feeling too much about your Ma’ or your past, remember your present and the people here that love you. Remember me, Stanley, remember how I love you as much as I love to breathe. Remember that you’re my baby, that I love taking care of you, that I love being here, in the now, with you. Can you do that for me, Sweetpea?” Stan sniffles and throws his arms around Fidds’ neck sobbing into him. He also loves his Fidds! He loves how he cuts his sandwiches just right, how he does the voices when he reads to him, he loves how Fidds doesn’t call him stupid or girly. He loves how he can just be small around him, that he’s allowed to cry. Fidds would be such a good Pa’.

Stan feels Fidds softly pat his back as he cries again, for what feels like forever this time. When he feels his tears stop, he sniffles and leans back, wiping his nose on his hand. He giggles as he feels Fidds swipe at his face with the cloth again, covering his face from the ticklish feeling of the cold water. He softly pushes Fidds’ hands away with a soft spoken “stop”, breathy from his giggling. 

“There’s my boy! Now, I think we both need an early bedtime, hmm? What do ya’ about getting in your comfiest pajamas-I’m thinking your Whale long johns-and getting cozy in bed with Poindexter and “Goodnight Moon”? How ‘bout it?” Stan nods his head slower this time, crying always makes his head hurt. He doesn’t want to think anymore right now, he just wants to cuddle his Fidds, Poindexter too of course, he couldn’t leave out his bestest friend, and fall asleep under a warm blankie. Fidds helps him off the toilet seat and into their room, helping him step into his fuzzy whale pajamas and tucking him tight into bed. All the way up from his feet to his neck, just how he likes, and finishing with a forehead kiss that has scrunching his nose up into an adorable smile before settling under the covers with the book open. 

“In the great green room there was a telephone and a red balloon…” Fiddleford began reading.

And, as he drifts off to sleep surrounded by warmth and love, he lets out a whispered “G’night, papa”, which squeezes Fiddleford’s heart, which in turn means he squeezes his boy even tighter, resting his head on top of his Stanley’s. Promising, to both himself and the little nestled right here in his arms, that he’ll never waver in love and devotion to his little family.

[kakusu-shipping]

Emile's Commissions are now open!!!!

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