little stars

yep!

finally got some free time good lord im fucking exhausted.

favorite thing to say when im little: mama

favorite thing to do: say mama and think of mama and talk to mama

It has always bothered me a little that a lot of the "what is agere?" cards are just. Not as in-depth as i know i needed when I discovered the community.

So I made some to clear things up and explain what I would have liked to know !!

These are for parents/loved ones of regressors and people who are just discovering agere

Warning for small text and a good amount of reading. I tried to make it as readable as I could!! This is only the basics, it is NOT everything (I couldn't fit everything into 4 cards!!) Click for better quality ❤️

Strawpage link ☆

she can't find it.

trinity tries not to get upset, she really, really tries. icky feelings swirl in her gut and burn at her eyes, but she tries. she doesn't wanna be annoying or needy, doesn't want her mama to find out she's lost it. she doesn't wanna get in trouble.

logically, maybe, she knows baran wouldn't be mad at her. but to her little self? it feels like impending doom, anxiety curling through her ribs, too used to screaming that came from her real mother. useless, stupid child.

trinity chokes back a whimper as she rummages through her toy bin for the third time, sure she had put it back. it's only a stupid stuffie, a black kitty plush— but it's one baran, her mama, got her. it's special. and she wants it, bad, just needs to bury her face in the fur and breathe in. just for a minute. but it's gone. trinity doesn't remember where she could've had it last.

baran isn't even home. she will be, soon, with groceries and hopefully yummy snacks, and she'd made trinity promise that she was gonna be okay for the half hour she was gone. made trinity promise that she wasn't feeling small, didn't need her to stay.

trinity, still too unused to accepting the kind care, lied. slipped even smaller as soon as baran closed the door. which is why she needed her stuffie. miss mittens would regulate her, right? then she wouldn't be alone.

except miss mittens is nowhere to be found, and trinity is feeling so, so small, and she can't hold back her hiccuped little cries any more. she curls up and sobs, beating the flat of her palm against the side of her head, sharp smacks to her temple. she doesn't even deserve her stuffie. she doesn't deserve comfort. she's a bad kid.

unbeknownst to Trinity, miss mittens had been in the passenger seat of mama's car this whole time, and baran pads back into the house with a smile on her face, calling out trin, silly girl, you forgot your kitty—

—in the car. baran is rushing over to her poor girl in an instant, dropping her bags to pull trinity out of her little ball, take hold of the hand that's still hitting against her head. trinity fights her and squirms and cries but baran just holds fast, tucking the fussy little into her lap and squeezing her tight.

trinity regulates after a while of hushing and rocking and squeezing, the pressure soothing her overwhelmed brain, til baran is able to slowly loosen her grip, trinity going slack against her. her sniffles start to fade and she realizes miss mittens has been tucked against her, found.

...you found her, trinity sniffles, wipes her palms over her wet eyes before blinking up at her mama, small. I didn'— I didn' mean to lose her, I swear, m'sorry—

could never be upset at my sweet girl, baran is quick to whisper, soothe, cradle trinity's damp face in her palms. never ever. I'm just sad you're sad, baby. why don't we come up with a plan for how you can tell me you're feeling all small without getting too shy, huh? maybe you could draw me a picture? I don't want you being alone, kittycat.

trinity nods, a final shudder wracking her frame as she nuzzles into mama's warm hands. her voice is small as she agrees, okay.

okay?

okay, mama.

yes!

they'd love to braid each other's hair. the braids usually end up lopsided and loose and messy, but it doesn't matter, cause they're not really there to stay. it's just soothing and nice, playing with each other's hair— Victoria loves Emma's soft curls, Emma loves the silky waves that Victoria gets when she doesn't straight her hair :3

their mamas would get them matching pjs, Emma's in pink and Victoria's in lavender <3 soft tshirts and shorts, baggy and comforting. they'd love lazing around in a puppypile, dozing off for an afternoon nap.

they would soo throw blankets over Dana's living room table and crawl under, lay on their stomachs and giggle at each other's stories. they could yap and yap for hours, bring their stuffies with them and make them have little conversations, too.

Dana and Cassie would be sooo fond of them. they'd coo soft at their tuckered out little ones after a long day, Cassie scooping up Victoria to leave with a did you have fun, baby? yeah? oh, I know, so sleepy. say bye to your friend, sweetheart. and Victoria humming a soft bye, Ems.

not when baran becomes her caregiver. baran notices every time trinity gets one, gets a little more subdued than she is already, expression twisting a little with the ache. she knows it makes her girl feel unpleasantly adult again, in that halfway space between inner child and grown-up that's so difficult, so raw and hurting. the tears make headaches worse, and it just breaks baran's heart to watch.

so she learns how to prevent it. she's quick to tug her girl into her lap and coo soft, (there you go, come here..) pressing gentle kisses to her head. she helps trinity swallow little pills, drink some water, praising her for being able. (good job, sweetie!)

she takes trinity to bed, curls up with her. it's soft and warm, the room dimmed and the mattress easy to sink into, baran's fingers rubbing lightly at trinity's temples when she rests her head on mama's stomach. it keeps her all fuzzy and safe, kept and held. the ache in her temples starts to subside and the crisis is averted, no halfway regression or hiccupy tears. just warmth. just the quiet bliss of being taken care of for once.

When I get a change I want to write a longer drabble, but you can have a couple headcanons as a treat:

Caregiver Baran Al-Hashimi ♥ Little Trinity Santos Headcanons

(note: COMPLETELY sfw agere here. I do not consent to interaction from nsfw-centric blogs.)

Trinity does not like being called "Santos" in little space. She's been barked at, screamed at, and belittled too much under that name. Baran almost exclusively calls her "Trinity", "Sweet girl", or "Azizam" (which is a Farsi term of endearment).

Baran has a difficult time getting Trinity to eat when she's big, but little Trinity has the appetite of a linebacker. Little Trinity also greatly enjoys spicy food and douse all of her food in spicy vinegar (Baran needs to watch this, little Trin gets excited and has ruined her dinner beyond repair on multiple occasions).

Trinity throws tantrums. I'm talking red in the face, crying, throwing herself on the floor or at the walls kind of tantrums. Poor baby has needed to be (gently) coaxed out of hitting her head on the walls. Baran has resorted to letting little Trinity rip up some cardboard if she particularly needs a physical release. These tantrums are also usually followed by lots of crying and a looooong nap in mama's arms.

Despite her pension for online trends, little Trinity isn't a TV watcher! She much prefers to run around and play active games. I like to think that Baran has a trampoline for her son and that little Trinity is obsessed with showing her mama all her tricks (from her gymnastics heyday). Baran gives each one an exaggerated perfect 10, making Trinity bust out in that giggle that Baran loves so much! (This has resulted in some pretty nasty bruises and cuts, which Baran always kisses better).