Checklists For Littles! :3

There comes a certain sadness in being a regressor without a caregiver, but also one who's severely traumatized and neglected. Finding comfort in dark moments by tumblr caregiver posts, feeling like someone cares. Not entirely understanding nostalgia and getting sad when seeing posts about favorite childhood snacks, movies, activities because you never grew up on them. Feeling awkward while playing and or having to relearn it because it wasn't really a thing. I wasn't allowed or given many toys at all. Seeing other regressors happily posting about their caregiver, feeling bittersweet. I'm glad they have them, they deserve happiness and support- but will I ever get that? I hope one day that's me too. Living through cartoons: wishing you had a friend group, family, or whatever like those characters. Happy endings. Imagining lots of scenarios or talking to character.ai cg characters, wanting it to be real so bad. Wanting a caregiver, yet being so scared about being a "difficult" regressor or needing "too much care and comfort." Wishing there was just someone to hold me and pat my head while tiny, playing with my hair and giving me their full attention. It would feel weird, really weird- I don't get attention much, but I'd hope that little me would be okay and happy with that. Bottom line, I hope for the fun days and happy ending of finding someone who will love me and accept my regression. If there's any regressors out there with c-PTSD, trauma, or really just anything that makes them fearful they won't ever get it- please keep trying. One day. I always tell myself that I'm sure I'll be so happy in the future, and look back on moments like these going "she was strong. she didnt know of the moonlight that would hug her everyday, yet she still pushed through- she made it"

I just want the hungry pillar to crawl on my face and give me tiny kisses and then we can eat a cookie together and won't have to share with anyone it'll be our big cookie just for us.

i think we could achieve communism through loons

Trans Pride Agere Moodboard 🩵🩷🤍

Syl scrunkly

Getting my friend into stormlight archive was the best decision i ever made. I started rhythm of war today and he soon is onto oathbringer. So here is syl- being silly, sylly if you will

feel free to use this if you want

Some thoughts on the Stormlight Archive:

(Minor spoilers for Words of Radiance and Dawnshard)

In the Stormlight archive, every surgebinder has access to healing magic. This healing magic can heal your body from pretty much any injury, to an extent. But importantly, the way in which it heals your body is into the shape of your soul. Souls in the Cosmere are a composite of the different things that make you you: a web of pieces of identity, a mixture of things that were imposed upon you and things you believe about yourself. The soul is in flux, is dynamic, and is constantly changing. But at the end of the day, it is still your soul.

In Words of Radience, we are briefly introduced to the king of a small nation who any modern day observer would identify as a trans man. He is seen and treated by his people as a man, and expects to be referred to as such. His manhood is never questioned by his subjects, nor by the narrative.

A few books later, in the novella Dawnshard, we learn that the King has become a surgebinder. And because of this, his body has changed. His once female body has become totally and completely genetically and physically male.

This is important. In the Cosmere, your soul is shaped like you, and is a reflection of what you are. This to me suggests that Brandon Sanderson is a trans ally in the deepest sense of the word. Brandon Sanderson, in his work, does not merely believe that trans people are trans. Here, he shows that, in no uncertain terms, he believes that trans men are, deeply, profoundly, on a fundamental level, men.

Thank you Brandon for your wonderful works. I look forward to seeing more LGBTQ rep from you in the future, as you have already shown you have a profound sensitivity to depicting queer experiences. It would be fun to see how queer people exist in the cosmere, and I am excited to see what you have in store.

pottery 101

Night owls

This is my first post like this, be gentle! And do let me know if you'd like something in my ask box. Enjoy <3 - Papa Chevy

I hear you stirring on the baby monitor, fighting sleep. Next thing I know, your sweet little head pokes in the doorway, your arrival preceded by the patter of tiny feet. Your hair is wild, paci hanging from its clip on your sleep shirt, treasured stuffed toy in tow. Papa?

Just to finish this sentence... What's that, baby? You tug on my sleeve with a whine, and I look away from my glowing blue iMac. I push my reading glasses up into my ruffled hair, tousling your head. My room is dark but for its light, and I've been up working on my college classes ever since I put you to bed. Rain raps at the window. The Eagles play softly on the CD player up above, more to keep me awake than anything else. I notice the time with a start - much too late for papas or little ones. It's late, honey, whatcha doing up?

Papa... your lower lip juts out, and I can't help but scoop you up in my arms as tears roll down your cheeks, rubbing your back as I do so. Miss you!

I soften, wiping your tears with my thumb. Of course, how could I have been so careless? Oh darling, papa's finals week has been so hard for you, huh? You nod in confirmation, rubbing your stuffed lovie on your cheek for comfort, fiddling with my fingers. I offer you your forgotten pacifier, and you take it, blinking plaintively at me, eyes glassy from a lack of sleep. Is the thunder scary? You wanted daddy?

Yeah.. you sniff, throw your arms around me, face immediately buried in my shirt. I won't let you go again.

Well, let's fix that sweetheart. My lovebug is much more important, the work can wait, and you need your papa. I power off my monitor. Fancy pickin' out a show for us? Hmm little bat? I tickle your hiding cheek, and you nod hesitantly, so I lift you up to the shelf with the VHS tapes. You snatch the Goodnight Show, a little smile peeking out from behind your pacifier. There's my sweet sugar.

Good choice little dude! I load the tape into the VCR and we settle into bed, me and you and your lovey. You cuddle against my chest, and I rub your head as your eyes slip open and shut, relaxing already. You'll be sleeping with me until finals are over, you can be sure of that, and you'll never have to be afraid of the thunder again.

I want you to remember:

The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.