#alphabet books for toddlers

[ecoeyeau]

Alphabet Books

Website : https://www.ecoeye.com.au/

EcoEye offers Australian Alphabet Books, Puzzles & Giftware, designed by Graphic Artist Robyn Williams.

Cushions, mugs, personal journals, spiral notebooks, stickers and more designs by Robyn Williams are available on our website.

K is for Kangaroo:

"K is for Kangaroo" hardcover books reflect the vibrant colours found in Australia's landscape. Every picture tells a story … each is uniquely Australian.

Multi-layered illustrations showcasing Australia’s favourite animals, beautiful birds, floral emblems, and famous icons including Ned Kelly as well as Vegemite and Sydney Harbour Bridge.

"K is for Kangaroo" books and matching puzzles are ideal for children of all ages.

“K is for Kangaroo" An Australian ABC emerged out of a bright idea to create a love of learning in an artistic and Australian way! From ghost gums to homesteads, echidnas to crocodiles, wombats to waratahs … multi layered illustrations help young readers discover Australia’s favourite animals, beautiful birds, floral emblems, cultural icons and A-Z sign language as they learn to master the alphabet in a truly colourful way.

Wholly designed and printed in Australia, "K is for Kangaroo" is a hardcover book of quality and style. Launched at Somerset College on the Gold Coast, “K is for Kangaroo” books have spread far and wide internationally and across Australia, landing in more than a hundred Aussie cities and towns.

Business Email : prwilliams61@gmail.com

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/RobynWilliamsDA

Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/ecoeyerw/

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[rowdyluv]

buy here

do I dare buy it? for my nephews of course

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil!

I just wanted to say thank you for my daughter’s new favorite book, Pirate Stew. She loves chanting along with me, and giggling when I inevitably cannot say “all the seashells she sells surely” correctly for the life of me.

She also likes Cinnamon and The Dangerous Alphabet, and I’m looking forward to introducing her to Instructions and Blueberry Girl once they get here.

Thank you for helping to encourage my toddler (and myself) to have a more twisted and open imagination.

You are so very welcome.

And yes, that line was just put in to make people reading it aloud (including me) work a little harder.

[regressionschool]

Maturity Test Part 4: Life as a toddler

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A year had passed since Anna had taken Olaf and Becky into her care, and the routine of their daily lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The once stark contrast between the two of them had grown even more pronounced, as Becky’s preschooler skills flourished while Olaf’s regression deepened. They shared a brightly decorated bedroom, with walls painted in soft pastel colors and shelves filled with toys and books, each reflecting their distinct stages of development.

Becky’s side of the room was neat and organized, her bed adorned with colorful blankets and a couple of plush animals. A large, colorful potty training chart was pinned to the wall beside her bed, and it was covered in suns, each one representing a day where she had successfully used the potty. There were a few clouds scattered here and there, but overall, it was clear that Becky was well on her way to mastering potty training. Her pride in those suns was evident whenever she looked at the chart, a smile lighting up her face.

Olaf’s side of the room, in contrast, was a little more chaotic, filled with stuffed animals, blocks, and other toddler toys. His bed had guard rails on the sides, making it resemble a large crib, and next to it was a changing table stocked with diapers, wipes, and powder. Olaf had become completely accustomed to his diapers over the past year, his potty training skills having long since faded. The few times he had tried to reach for the potty in the early days had ended in tears of frustration, leading to Anna’s gentle but firm reassurance that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Olaf’s dependency on his pacifier had also grown. It was almost always clipped to his shirt, and when he wasn’t sucking on it, he seemed restless, his hands fidgeting or his lips quivering slightly. The pacifier was his comfort, his security, and it had become a constant presence in his life. He had adapted to his toddler role more fully than anyone could have imagined, and while there were moments of confusion or sadness, they were fleeting, quickly soothed by Anna’s comforting touch or a favorite toy.

Anna had taken great care to treat each of them according to their assigned ages. Becky was praised for her growing independence and learning skills. She attended preschool every day, where she was learning to read simple words, count to ten, and even beginning to write her name. Becky beamed with pride when she showed Anna the new things she learned at school, and Anna encouraged her every step of the way. At night, however, Becky still wore diapers due to her heavy wetting, something that she accepted without much fuss. It was just part of the routine—something that separated her from being a "big kid," but not something that bothered her too much.

Olaf, on the other hand, spent his days in daycare, where he played with blocks, listened to stories, and napped in a room filled with other toddlers. His diaper changes had become so routine that he barely noticed them anymore, and his remaining potty training instincts were long gone. Anna treated him like the toddler he had been classified as, her voice always soft and reassuring, never pushing him to do more than what was appropriate for his age.

One afternoon, an official from the reclassification center visited to check on how things were going. Anna had been expecting the visit, but there was still a nervous energy in the air as she welcomed the official into the house. The official was a stern-looking woman with a clipboard in hand, her expression serious as she began her inspection.

Anna led the official into the shared bedroom, where Becky was proudly playing with a set of alphabet blocks, forming simple words she had learned in preschool. Olaf, meanwhile, was on the floor with a pacifier in his mouth, stacking large, colorful rings onto a peg.

The official’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the distinctions between Becky and Olaf’s sides. She walked over to Becky’s potty training chart, tapping it with her pen. "I see Becky is doing very well with her potty training," she remarked, her tone neutral.

Anna nodded, smiling. "Yes, she’s been doing great. She’s very proud of all her suns. But she still wears a diaper at night since she’s a heavy wetter."

The official made a note on her clipboard. "And Olaf? I see he’s fully adjusted to his toddler classification."

Anna glanced at Olaf, who was happily chewing on his pacifier as he played. "Yes, he’s doing well, too. He’s very comfortable in his diapers, and he’s still quite dependent on his pacifier, but it helps keep him calm."

The official walked over to Olaf, crouching down to his level. She carefully examined his diaper, noting its slight sag, indicating he was wet. "Olaf," she said gently but firmly, "how are you feeling today?"

Olaf looked up at her with wide eyes, his pacifier bobbing in his mouth as he nodded. "Good," he mumbled around the rubber nipple, his words barely understandable but filled with contentment.

The official straightened up, her expression still serious. "It’s important that Olaf remains in his toddler role," she said, turning to Anna. "He shouldn’t be encouraged to behave in ways that are beyond his assigned age. Any attempt to push him toward behaviors that are too mature could be detrimental to his well-being."

Anna nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course. I always make sure to treat Olaf appropriately for his age. I want him to feel safe and secure."

The official seemed satisfied with the response and moved over to Becky, who was showing off her block words with a big smile. "And Becky, how do you like preschool?"

Becky beamed. "I love it! I’m learning to read, and I can count to ten now! And I almost never have accidents anymore."

The official gave a rare smile. "That’s wonderful, Becky. You’re doing very well." She glanced at Anna. "It’s clear that Becky is progressing appropriately for her classification."

Anna felt a surge of pride as she looked at Becky. "She’s a bright little girl, and I’m very proud of her."

The official finished her notes and then looked at Anna with a hint of approval. "It seems that everything is in order here. You’re doing an excellent job maintaining the appropriate care and boundaries for both Becky and Olaf. I’ll submit my report, and we’ll schedule another check-in in a few months."

Anna nodded, feeling relieved. "Thank you. I just want to make sure they’re both happy and healthy."

Two years had passed since Anna had taken full guardianship of both Olaf and Rebecca, and the rhythm of their days had settled into a comfortable routine. Each day began with Anna waking up her two littles, getting them ready for the day ahead, and ensuring they were happy and well cared for. Today was no different.

Anna quietly opened the door to the bedroom they shared, the soft creak of the hinges echoing through the stillness of the early morning. The gentle hum of a white noise machine filled the air, a soothing background to the scene before her. Becky was curled up on her side in her small bed, her thumb nestled in her mouth as she slept peacefully. Across the room, Olaf lay sprawled out on his back in his toddler-sized bed, his pacifier bobbing gently in his mouth as he dreamed.

Anna’s heart swelled with affection as she stepped into the room. It was always a bittersweet moment, seeing how much both of them had changed and how deeply they had regressed into their new roles. But she loved them both dearly, and they seemed happy, even if they didn’t fully understand the depth of their regression.

Gently, she knelt beside Becky, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Becky," Anna whispered softly, her voice as gentle as the morning light streaming through the window. "It’s time to wake up, sweetheart."

Becky stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times, then yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Morning, Mommy," she mumbled sleepily, sitting up with a small smile.

Anna smiled back and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, Becky. Did you sleep well?"

Becky nodded, though her face fell slightly as she shifted in her bed. She glanced down at the thick nighttime diaper between her legs, her lips forming a small pout. "I…I had an accident again," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I thought I could keep it dry this time."

Anna’s heart tugged at the disappointment in Becky’s voice. Despite her progress during the day, Becky still struggled with nighttime accidents, and it clearly frustrated her. Anna reached out, gently cupping Becky’s cheek. "That’s okay, sweetie. You’re doing so well during the day, and nighttime accidents are nothing to be upset about. We’ll get you all cleaned up and into your big-girl pull-up for school."

Becky nodded, the disappointment in her eyes softening as Anna helped her out of bed. Together, they made their way to the changing table, where Anna efficiently removed Becky’s soggy diaper, wiped her clean, and helped her into a fresh pull-up. Once dressed in her favorite preschool uniform—a light blue dress with a white collar—Becky’s mood had already lifted.

"All set!" Anna said, smoothing out Becky’s dress. "Ready for a big day at preschool?"

Becky smiled brightly and nodded. "Uh-huh!"

Anna turned her attention to Olaf next. He was still fast asleep, his pacifier gently bobbing in and out as he nuzzled into his pillow. His nighttime diaper was clearly soaked, the faint yellow discoloration obvious through the thick padding. Anna couldn’t help but smile as she reached down and gently shook him awake.

"Olaf, time to wake up, little one," she cooed softly, rubbing his back. Olaf blinked his eyes open, his thumb automatically moving to replace the pacifier in his mouth as he stirred. He looked up at Anna with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, his pacifier still firmly between his lips.

Without a word, Anna guided him to the changing table, where she expertly removed his soaked diaper, cleaned him up, and slid a fresh, thick diaper beneath him. The crinkling of the plastic filled the room as she fastened the tapes securely around his waist. Olaf remained quiet throughout, still too drowsy to do much more than suck on his pacifier and stare up at Anna with wide, trusting eyes.

Once he was freshly diapered, Anna dressed him in a simple t-shirt, the diaper peeking out from underneath. "There we go, Olaf," she said, tapping his nose playfully. "All ready for breakfast."

Olaf giggled softly around his pacifier, still content in his little world.

Together, they made their way to the kitchen, where the familiar morning routine continued. Becky, being a preschooler, was allowed to sit at the regular table and make her own breakfast. Anna handed her a slice of toast and a small jar of jam, and Becky eagerly set about smearing the jam across the toast, her little tongue poking out in concentration as she tried to keep the mess contained.

Olaf, on the other hand, was placed in his highchair, the familiar click of the buckles securing him in place. Anna tied a bib around his neck, the bright fabric adorned with cartoon animals. Olaf pouted slightly, but he didn’t resist. It was a ritual by now, and despite his occasional grumbles, he had grown used to it. He waited patiently as Anna prepared his breakfast—warm porridge, sweetened with a touch of honey and a splash of milk.

As Anna fed Olaf small spoonfuls of the porridge, he happily kicked his feet, enjoying the taste. "Good boy," she cooed, wiping a bit of porridge from the corner of his mouth.

Between bites, Olaf absentmindedly played with his pacifier, his focus entirely on the bowl in front of him. As Anna continued to feed him, a soft hissing sound filled the air, faint but unmistakable. Anna’s eyes flicked down to Olaf’s diaper, just in time to see the slight yellowing of the material as it absorbed the wetness. Olaf, however, didn’t seem to notice. He continued eating his porridge, blissfully unaware of the accident he had just had.

Anna sighed softly, her heart aching a little at how deeply Olaf had regressed. He had become so accustomed to his diapers that he didn’t even realize when he was wetting them anymore. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she finished feeding him, then gave him a gentle pat on the head.

"Let’s get you dressed for daycare, little man," she said softly, wiping his hands and face clean before lifting him out of the highchair.

After a quick check of his diaper, which was indeed damp but not soaked, Anna dressed Olaf in a pair of shortalls, the thick padding of his diaper barely hidden beneath the fabric. He looked every bit the part of a toddler now, from his pacifier to his bib to the soft crinkle of his diaper with each step he took.

Once both Becky and Olaf were ready, Anna ushered them out the door and into the car. Becky, buckled into her booster seat, chattered excitedly about the day ahead at preschool, while Olaf, in his toddler seat, quietly sucked on his pacifier, content to watch the world pass by outside the window.

Their first stop was Becky’s preschool. As Anna helped Becky out of the car and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, Becky waved enthusiastically. "Bye, Mommy! I’ll see you after school!"

"Have a great day, Becky!" Anna called back, watching her run off to join her friends with a smile.

Next, it was time to take Olaf to daycare. As they pulled up outside the building, Olaf’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Mommy…" he mumbled around his pacifier, his voice barely audible.

Anna smiled down at him as she unbuckled his seatbelt and lifted him from the car. "Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re going to have lots of fun today, just like always."

Olaf nodded hesitantly, clutching tightly to Anna as she carried him inside. She gave him a reassuring hug, rubbing his back softly. "You’ll be okay, Olaf. Mommy will be back to pick you up before you know it."

With that, Anna handed Olaf over to one of the caregivers, who smiled warmly at him and led him toward the play area. As she watched him waddle off, his shortalls riding up slightly to reveal the edge of his diaper.

[luc1-anna]

NEED the toji nsfw alphabet fic PLSSSS 😭🙏

𝐍𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 (𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨)

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱)

Aftercare is a big thing to him despite how annoyed he may seem when he does stuff for you he secretly loves it, especially when you ask for a massage or just some time to cuddle afterwards because he'd do anything to stay closer to you.

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬)

He loves your whole body, and he makes sure you know that but if he had a favourite part of you it would 100% be your ass. Just because he likes how it looks whenever he's fucking the life out for you, plus it would be more normalized to slap your ass rather than any other body part.

His favourite part on him would have to be his arms or chest, just because you're always touching him there. Whenever you two are in public your arm was always wrapped around his, especially when you were pregnant and sometimes got too tired so you leaned on him, he loved it. His chest because you're always laying on it whenever you two sleep, maybe because he likes the intimacy of it.

𝐂= 𝐂𝐮𝐦 (𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐦)

He loves to cum inside of you then push down on your stomach so it all spills out, he finds it so attractive when you do that. Despite loving to release inside of you he hates the idea of children especially when they're through the stages of a newborn to a toddler since they're the most challenging in his books. It always puts him off.

𝐃= 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲)

It's not really a secret that he likes whenever you wear his clothes, especially after you wake up from the night before, only wearing your panties and an oversized shirt of his. He's always got to hold himself back from fucking your guts out.

𝐄= 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲?)

He's either a virgin or he's had past hookups, it depends when you met him. So if it was the latter it's cause you met him through his mid twenties or something like that, but if he was a virgin when you two met it's cause you were probably his first everything/love. Somehow he knew what he was doing despite having no prior experience.

𝐅= 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ( 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠)

He's 100% a doggy type of man. But it really depends on what position you're in, so if your upper torso is being pushed down or your bent over something, those would be his favourite. He hates when you lay down just because he can't get deep enough and only gets a few lousy moans out of you.

𝐆= 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭?)

I feel like he's be the more serious type when fucking you, sometimes he just blurts out random stuff which causes you to laugh, it's always on accident as he does mean to make you laugh but he likes when you do. Most of the time he's relentlessly teasing you so he doesn't have any room for humour.

𝐇= 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬?)

He hates shaving, it's so time consuming since he always does it whenever he's about to shower so it takes time away from being with you. So he's got some hair down there just like how he has some stubbles on his face. He hopes you wouldn't mind but sometimes it just goes overboard and you force him to shave despite how much he may hate doing it.

𝐈= 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 ( 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭?)

He's not used to intimacy as much as you are, so you're always the one to take charge and show him the ropes of how you want him to be in bed, but he does the basics like holding your hand or kissing your forehead occasionally. But half the time you're the one doing those actions like caressing his cheek or chest, telling him how good he's done or whatever.

𝐉= 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 (𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

I feel like he's the type to sneakily take some of your underwear and use it to jerk off, like he was a pervert for you, but he always made sure that it was a nice lace lingerie one rather than your usual ones. Or he'd do phone sex which isn't really masturbation but it is at the same time.

𝐊=𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬)

It's either a mommy kink which I doubt he has or a praise kink. He's like a dog wagging it's tail whenever he hears compliments spit out from your mouth especially when he is deep inside of you as you just can't control them then.

𝐋= 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ( 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭)

He's fond of the car or just anywhere people couldn't see you two.

He could really do it anywhere he wanted, he didn't mind. Though he's more used to a hotel room or kitchen than anywhere else. Just because they have the best surfaces to bend you.

𝐌= 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ( 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧)

He loves whenever you wear his clothes, it's probably his biggest turn on for him other than your body itself. It's either that or whenever your bossy, ordering him around.

𝐍= 𝐍𝐨 (𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨/𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬)

Breath play on you or anything that would/could cause you harm, just because he knows his own strength and how stupid it wold be to loose the love of his life because he was too strong in bed. But he'd gladly let it get done on him.

𝐎= 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠)

Depends who you are to him, if you're some one time thing or something close to that he'd prefer it if you gave him head rather than him wasting his energy onto you. But if you're his wife he'd 100% still prefer receiving but he'd be less reluctant to actually eat you out too. Just because he feels like that type of trust is there.

𝐏= 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞 ( 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥?)

Sometimes he just goes out of control from being so drunk on you, if you told him to go slower than his normal pace he'd soon forget after around 5 minutes just because he got so distracted with your body. But normally he'd go for a fast and rough pace, especially if he's trying to punish you, but with the occasional parts of him getting a little exhausted before regaining his energy.

𝐐= 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧)

He doesn't love them but he doesn't hate them, he's in the middle just because whenever he has a quickie it's because he's already late and he's got to go meaning no time to actually rest with you, like he always needs to hold you somehow afterwards.

𝐑= 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬?)

He's risky, I can imagine him trying to kiss you in public but you always push him away because you know how out of control he can get when you allow him. Though it isn't risky like sexual just suggestive if that makes sense. Like the type to have a takeout session in an alleyway.

𝐒= 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 ( 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭?)

He could already last a while but with his enhanced body he could last forever, heavenly restrictions was his best friend whenever he had sex with you as he could please you for hours on end without getting tired.

𝐓= 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬? 𝐃𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟?)

I feel like he's own didlos just for you, but he makes sure they never get used on anyone else other than you, especially him. I think he's tried to stuff your hole with the didlo and his cock only to realise they wouldn't both fit so it shoves it in your ass instead. I feel like he owns handcuffs but that's really it if not a ball gag too.

𝐔= 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞)

He loves to tease you, just seeing your whiny face whenever he fucks you turns him on even more. He acts just like those stereotypical American bullies bullying/teasing the nerd student but they secretly like them.

𝐕= 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞)

I mean, he's not that loud other than a few groans when he's a top, but whenever he wants to give you a try at taking control he's trying to suppress his moans, unfortunately for you he does a good job at it. On the other hand whenever he fucks you he's made sure you were loud enough that the neighbours had to file a complaint.

𝐖= 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧) (contains somno)

He sometimes wakes you up by eating you out, like it only happens when he is really horny to the point he can't wait so he gets you in the mood whilst you're sleeping. But it was a one time thing after having some second thoughts about what he was doing,

𝐘= 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

𝐗= 𝐗-𝐫𝐚𝐲 (𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬)

I know he's packing down there, I feel like he's more on the thicker side rather than lengthy. But you really didn't mind because he could stretch you out either way. His tip is a darker pink then if his cheeks were to turn red and he's probably uncircumcised.

He's higher than average that's all I know. Back before he met you it was lower than ever just because he wasn't really enjoying his life much and there wasn't much thought of women or anybody in general. Till he met you where he learned how to actually love someone, whenever you walk by wearing something if his he just gets turned on he doesn't even mean it but it's a natural reaction.

𝐙= 𝐳𝐳𝐳 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬)

Depends how his days been but most of the time he falls straight asleep, he dreads proper aftercare as he always wants to pass out and hold you despite teasing you the whole way saying that he'd fuck you till he passed out, not the other way round. Sometimes he'd just lay there arms stretched waiting for you to join him.

[fetusharryluvr]

knight in shining armour

in which a single mother moves in three doors down from harry, and her two year-old finds herself outside his flat…

Harry fumbled with the keys after locking the front door to his flat, shoving them into his pocket. Whilst humming some random tune that, if you asked him where he’d heard it, he wouldn’t be able to tell you, he turned around, stopping in his tracks when he was met with a strange sight. A little girl standing all alone in the hallway. Well, ‘little girl’ may be a bit of an overstatement, she couldn’t have been any older than two.

He crouched down so he was more at her level, giving her a warm smile, “Hello, little lady.”

The 2ft child sniffled, rubbing her nose with one hand and giving Harry a small wave with the other.

“Where’s your mummy, love? She must be worried sick.” He felt a bit silly asking her, nor did he expect her to tell him, but what else do you ask a toddler wondering about on their own?

She pouted. Her little lip started to quiver, and she looked up at the man with sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He soothed. He stretched out his tattooed arms, picking up the girl and propping her up on his side. “It’s okay, bubs, we’re gonna find your mummy.”

He carried her around, trying to work out where she could have possibly come from. The little light bulb inside his head lit up when saw the door to flat 106 was slightly open. Despite that, Harry didn’t want to intrude into your home, so he lightly knocked three times.

It took a couple of minutes for you to open the door, and when you did, your face fell, eyes widening at the sight of your daughter in the arms of a stranger.

Harry could clearly see how worried and confused you were, which why he was quick to jump in and explain. “She was wandering outside my flat. I saw your door was open and I assumed she’d gotten out. Uh, I live three doors down - flat 109.”

“Oh my god,” Your voice was shaky, as if you were on the verge of tears. The brunette loosened his grip on the toddler, allowing you to take her from him and hug her tightly, her little arms wrapping around your neck. “I’m so sorry. I was too focused on the washing up— I must’ve left the door open— I didn’t realise she got out.”

Harry simply nodded his head and smiled. He didn’t quite understand why you were apologising to him. You had nothing to apologise to him for. “She’s adorable.” He stated, unable to pull his eyes away from the little angel.

Just as intended, his words brought a bright beam to your face. “Well, I definitely think so, but I suppose I’m biased.”

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You informed him. “An’ this is Noelle.”

Now he could see the both of you side-by-side, Harry realised just how similar you and Noelle looked. She was like a mini you, and, my god, you were gorgeous.

“Do you wanna come in for a coffee?” You offered, “As a thank you.”

“Yeah, I’d love to.” He smiled, and you were secretly relieved. You couldn’t thank him enough.

Harry followed you inside, shutting the front door behind him. He looked around in reverence. For such a small flat, you kept it unbelievably tidy, especially considering you were the mother of a toddler. The rug by the sofa was spotless, with a plastic container full of toys in the corner of the room, and a rather empty bookshelf in the other corner - which consisted of a small collection of Paddington Bear books stacked in alphabetical order, and a couple of true crime novels.

“You’ve got a lovely place.” He observed.

“Thank you. It’s not ideal, but it’s got the extra room for Elle.”

Whilst you hovered around the kitchen counter to make coffee, Harry sat himself down at the table, making faces at the little girl in the high chair opposite him. “Have you lived here long?” He asks, “‘S just I haven’t seen you around before.”

You grabbed two mugs out from the cupboard, “We moved in two weeks ago. The rent on my old place was gettin’ too expensive. Plus, Elle was getting too big to be sharing a room with me.” You heard her laughing, prompting you to turn around. Harry was playing a game of peek-a-boo with her, causing her little lips to turn up in a wide smile. “She likes you.”

“Yeah?” He peers over his shoulder at you with an endearing grin.

“Yeah.” You nod, returning the expression. “She’s normally not great with strangers, but that’s probably the most I’ve seen her smile in a long time.”

He turned back around, continuing his string of goofy faces. “Well, she’s got a beautiful smile. Just like her mum.”

You bent down and opened the door to the fridge, hissing out a quick, “Shit.” Under your breath.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, concerned.

“We’re out of milk. I’m so sorry.” You sighed, rubbing your temple. It was clear in your tone that you were embarrassed.

Much to your surprise, Harry wasn’t mad. Far from it, in fact. “It’s okay.” He softly assured you.

You shook your head, beginning to feel another headache coming on, something that tended to happen when you didn’t get enough sleep. “No. No, it’s not. I should’ve checked— I could’ve sworn I had at least half the carton left—”

“Y/N.” Harry calmly cut you off, “Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“I’ll pay you back somehow.” You assured him. “I promise.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You nodded, not wanting to take no for an answer. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing her back, I dread to think what would’ve happened if—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, but the look on Harry’s face told you that you didn’t need to. “You’re our knight in shining armour.”

You visibly cringed the second the words left your mouth, “Sorry,” you laughed. “Been reading too many fairytale stories.”

His cheeks flushed red. “No, I like it.” He breathed out a chuckle, whilst Noelle wrapped her hand around his forefinger. “I’m always happy to help a little damsel in distress.”

[incorrectbatfam]

What kinds of babies would the batkids be if Bruce adopted them from the start?

I did another ask here a while ago talking about what if the batfam were adopted as babies, which I’m using as a frame of reference. While it’s not totally accurate to their canon age differences, I kinda like how it worked out. 

Dick is mobile from the get-go. He crawls as soon as Bruce puts him down, tries to climb out of his crib, and is the reason the high chair has a seatbelt. Things only get worse when he learns to grab and stack things. Bruce walks in on him climbing a teetering tower of toys to reach the cereal box, and he just barely catches him before it topples over. Everyone thinks Jason is the reason for the child leash, but it’s actually Dick after he got lost at the museum. He’s the most outwardly affectionate of all the children, but his Terrible Twos are also the worst when he uses his limited vocabulary to argue with Bruce at every step. He’s also jealous when he’s no longer an only child and makes a big fuss at first before accepting it. 

Although Barbara has her own parents, the Waynes and the Gordons are very familiar with each other, both through Bruce and the Commissioner’s friendship and babysitting each other’s kids. Dick is more active, but Barbara learns to speak first and can even read the alphabet by the time they’re in daycare. Her parents try to limit screen time at home, but at the Manor, she learns to ask Alexa to play Little Einstein. Dick is also personally offended when he offers her his favorite candy and she goes blegh. 

Cass comes 3 years later, and she’s the baby you can’t let out of sight unless you feel like searching the whole house. She’ll hide anywhere, from under the bed to the trunk of the car. Selina suggests a cat bell, but Cass quickly learns to take it off. At first they think it’s because she’s shy, but it turns out she just prefers to watch people from a distance. Playing the Barbie ballerina music draws her out, though, because she loves twirling around. Cass learns sign language from her aunts Harley and Ivy first, and she makes up some of her own gestures to signal what she wants. Her hair was longer until Dick got peanut butter in it and they all agreed it’s easier to keep it short. 

Harper and Cullen are a year apart from each other, with Cullen being Cass’s age. They’re adopted at the same time, though, because it took a while for Bruce to prove that their bio father isn’t fit to be a parent. As a toddler, Harper is pretty independent, including dressing herself and using the bathroom. She likes to take things apart, so Bruce keeps expensive devices out of her reach—not that it works for long (see: Dick). She’s the most vocal baby and the first to learn “bad words” like poo-poo head. She’s the messiest though, often leaving things out and getting upset when people put her things away because she needs them. 

Cullen, on the other hand, is more shy from their previous household and takes some time to warm up to people. Bruce encourages him to ask for what he wants and always reassures him that there’s plenty to go around. The first person he grows close to is Cass, who takes him under her wing in a protective way. Together, they like to play pretend as mythical creatures or flip through picture books together despite not knowing how to read. He has a hard time falling asleep, so Bruce reads him stories until he does. On stormy nights, he goes to either Harper or Dick and will climb into their beds without warning. The first time that happened, Dick thought it was the monster from his closet and screamed so loud he woke everyone else up. Once Cullen learns how to use the remote, getting him away from the TV is a daily struggle. 

Jason is a year younger than Cass, and he’s a bit of a coin flip. Most days, he’s perfectly well-behaved and will quietly play by himself, especially with the pop-up books. Other days, he’ll throw the worst tantrums and break whatever he gets his hands on. He fights with Dick the most because at the time, he’s the youngest and can get away with more. Eventually, things even out a little and he fits perfectly into the fun-and-mischievous role, earning the affectionate title of Papa’s Little Nightmare, which he wears like a badge of pride whenever he licks people’s forks or sticks his finger up Bruce’s nose. He also likes to watch Alfred cook and his birthmark is his white streak. 

A full five years later is Tim, a quiet but observant baby who can learn fast by watching others. He picks up now to climb the banister from Dick, hide in tight spaces from Cass, how to use a hammer from Harper, what shows to watch from Cullen, and how to argue from Jason. He and Jason don’t get along at first because Jason felt like he was being replaced, but they eventually learn to coexist. Tim’s first toy to himself is a plastic camera that shows pictures of cartoon characters. He’s the kid that asks tons of questions, like why Bruce and Selina lock themselves in the bedroom. He also likes to explore and believes any unfamiliar creature is an alien. 

I know canonically Steph and Duke are a few years apart, but as babies I headcanon them as “twins” born on the same day to different parents and are two years younger than Tim because it’s cute and chaotic. Sometimes they share things, like their bedroom and toys. Other times, they get double, like two birthday cakes. At least once a week, they’ll try and confuse people by swapping clothes. Duke makes up stories and Steph scribbles out the scenes—sometimes she even does it on paper. If the house isn’t a mess before, then it definitely is with them when Bruce finds fruit gummies in the couch and shoes in the microwave. Instead of blankies and stuffed animals, Steph falls asleep clutching a box of toaster waffles and Duke with a bear-shaped honey bottle. Duke tells anti-jokes that he finds hilarious (“Knock knock” “Who’s there?” “Me!”) while Steph flat-out roasts people (“Dickie smells like icky”). They have concerts where Steph scream-sings while Duke bangs pots and pans. Steph prefers to be on Bruce’s shoulders while Duke clings to his leg. There’s a big Get Along shirt for when the siblings fight, but Steph and Duke just wear it for funsies. Because Tim sometimes gets overlooked, they follow him around like baby ducklings and think he’s the coolest sibling. 

Carrie, who’s two years after Steph and Duke, is the most imaginative baby and will loop people in as her side characters. Usually her roleplays involve being wilderness adventurers, after she watched Dora The Explorer. She likes to run around, often wearing a towel cape, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or play with things like bugs. She’ll only do baths if she can bring her snorkel and her many pool toys. In the car, no one wants to sit in front of her because she’s a seat-kicker. She’s easily wired even with just a little bit of sugar, so whenever another kid mad at Bruce, they’ll give her a whole bag of candy and set her loose. 

Damian is the last one and is three years younger than Carrie. He’s the smallest baby because he was born preterm, and Bruce is also worried because he rarely cries. But when he does, he won’t stop until he wears himself out. Carrie is the most protective of him and Tim thinks he’s secretly an alien (after seeing him hooked to machines in the hospital). Whenever Talia visits, he’ll systematically show her his toys, including his favorite stuffed cow. Besides Mama and Dada, his first words are animal sounds. He also likes art and will poke his head in whenever he sees his siblings drawing. If he senses someone having a bad day, he’ll sit outside their door and wait for them to come out. 

[h0neytalk]

Practicing the Arabic Alphabet

I honestly lucked out so much taking Arabic in college and learning basic MSA reading/writing/grammar from an excellent professor but I’m gonna compile the most useful things we did in class here to help people learning on their own (this isn’t focused on resources, just strategies, might do a separate post with worksheets and videos but they’re pretty easy to find):

Get the alphabet in front of you. We had a packet with a page for every letter with the letter written in the three positions, pronunciations, names, and lines to trace and write like 100 times. And then a page with all the diacritics. These sheets abound for free online. Make yourself an alphabet packet. Watch copious videos/listen to recordings going over the letters and how they sound. Repeat it back. Work in chunks and don’t move to the next set until you can recognize and write the current set.

Tracing! Learn to write the letters right to left and with the proper order from day one. This sounds obvious but people in my class were still drawing letters left to right as isolated shapes next to each other so idk maybe it’s not. Having nice handwriting in Arabic is both satisfying and absurdly helpful. Learn how the letters connect. Spend more time than you think is necessary on this.

Write English words and sentences phonetically using diacritics and Arabic letters. Do not worry about translation and spelling. Just make the connection between shape -> sound. Use anything you have. Lists of names, entire pages from books and magazines, texts from friends, menus. Literally anything. Work through how to make those words with the new alphabet. You will learn a surprising amount about the language and pronunciation by doing this. How do you translate sounds that don’t exist? What about multiple sounds where English only has one? Read it back with the accent.

Transcribe English phonetically. Same as above but do it without the English in front of you and just listening. Make that voice to visual connection.

Hand write word lists once you get to vocab. Then type them on your laptop and phone (if you want to be able to type in Arabic, also highly recommend a keyboard cover with the letters next to the Latin alphabet). Copy all the diacritics even though that’s not necessarily how native speakers do it. I have a notebook that looks like it belongs to lunatic toddler because it just has the same words and snippets written over and over again lmao.

Finally, transcribe Arabic. If you can use something with a transcript or captions to check your work even better! But don’t check for perfect spelling, check you used mostly the right letters and marks. You will definitely smash some words together and miss a silent or elided letter or something but try and hear the difference between ع and ا or ق and ك etc. The more sources you use the better.

We did this for one full semester of 50 minute classes 3 times a week while sprinkling in some basic vocab towards the second half. It felt like forever at the time but I never lost my ability to phonetically read and write in Arabic despite 4 years of complete non-use while living in America in an area without any significant Arabic-speaking population or language presence. It is absolutely CHISELED into my brain.

[riddles-n-games]

When Grayson was a toddler, he always fell asleep to Mary Had A Little Lamb during naptime and the method of counting sheep before bedtime actually worked for him. In reality, as a kid he was good at falling asleep in general before he hit high school and those ungodly night hours of work took effect. He also had a phase at ages 5-7 where he was fascinated by sheep and read every book he could find about them. Legit at one point, if you asked this kid to name breeds of sheep, he would recite them all in alphabetical order.

One Easter, his aunt coordinated a surprise for him by getting him a bunch of books about raising sheep and got him two live lambs, one a Valais Blacknose ewe and an Icelandic ram, imported from their Scottish estate where Tobias Hawthorne kept prized sheep herds. Little Gray was very excited and named them Mareep (yes, after the Pokémon-he was obsessed) and Oven (don’t ask why, nobody has figured out why to this day, not even him, looking back). They became his pets and though his grandfather hired people to care for them, Grayson was adamant to do what he could to take care of them himself. He was very hands-on with the lambs.

Eventually, after they grew up and since they were of quality pedigrees, the old man asked him if he wanted to enter into sheep showing. Gray enthusiastically agreed and soon enough, his sheep were winning prizes in livestock competitions. Mareep won more awards and was bred several times, often producing triplets.

When Grayson turned 16, Tobias asked him if he would like to take over an experimental breeding program with the goal to create a new breed. For years, the Hawthorne sheep farm had bred specific breeds to enhance their qualities but also chose outstanding individuals in each new generation to be part of the experiment. During the time Grayson had received his first lambs, they were still at the first step; mixing and choosing to make the prototype breed. He accepted his grandfather’s proposition and revised steps in the project, bringing on more researchers for a fresh perspective, and adding ever so carefully sought out traits to increase the productivity and quality of what would become the Hawthorne staple in the sheep world. Xander even sometimes visited with him to Scotland to learn about genetics and get an in-depth understanding of it during the processes of the breed creation.

Soon, the first generation of the actual breed came about just before the passing of the old man and with many buyers interested in the billionaire's contribution to ovine genetics, Grayson was in the early stages of registering the breed to the Scottish and American breed registries respectively. It would officially be the Scottish-Texan Longcurl ('Scottexan" for short) or the Hawthorne Longcut alongside some lesser used synonyms like Hawthorne Longcoil, Horned Longcurl, and more but colloquially known among the community as the Hawthorne Jackpot. Nowadays, Gray looks to create another when he has the free time (which is never) that may come to fruition at some point in the future with prototype drafts already in place but really, he wants to simply do it for fun (I know, shocker, he actually knows that word; it's still in his dictionary even after all these years).

[exhaustedbunnytm]

Brain Out of Order

It is frightening how much my memory has been effected the last few weeks. And the brain fog on top of it is not helping.

I can not keep my shit together. I constantly forget things I need to do and forget to look at my To Do list I keep to not forget. The list isn’t helpful if I forget about the list.

I am constantly late to things, I can not keep my calendar or remember if I have to be somewhere. I am so scared to commit going anywhere or doing anything with people out of fear Ill forget. I used to be the chronically 20 minutes early person and now I am the chronically 15 minutes late person. I hate it. I never wanted to be the always late person, even when i try to leave an hour early I end up 15 minutes late.

I can not keep track of my phone notifications, messages, keeping in touch with people, I can’t keep track. Some of the break from notifications is nice, but it can also be isolating.

I forget to pick up my meds at the pharmacy, or forgot that I picked them up but can not find them in the apartment. My partner finds them most of the time. I sent him to the pharmacy yesterday to pick up meds I already picked up 2 weeks ago…

All of those things I can mostly deal with the frustration from myself and others. My friends and family say they understand and are giving me some slack with these things because they see the complete 180 from how I used to be and I can tell they are worried. I appreciate their grace and they are just happy that I show up. It still doesn’t make it hurt any less as I grieve the me before.

But what is starting to really freak me out the most is I am unable to keep track of finances. I can not remember what bills I paid and when even though I write on the bill that info, and I keep a log but forget to keep the log, or I can’t remember where I put the bills. I can not keep track of how much I have spent of my allotted budget for the month. I can’t figure out where my money is going. I am definitely over spending (not to a danger point, but still should not be left without addressing). My system doesn’t work anymore, I am trying to find a new system. I keep trying to look at them and get everything back in check and I just get confused and overwhelmed. Nothing makes sense. But my finances are so simple for the most part, I should not be feeling like I am trying to balance my books that mysteriously turned into another language.

I feel like a toddler who just learned how to count to 5 trying to do calculus. I love math, I used to find immense pleasure and joy balancing my checkbook and doing my finances. Something I used to enjoy is now something that causes instant dread and overwhelms me with emotions and stress, which makes everything worse.

I am the keeper of the finances in my household, I can not give that responsibility to my partner. There are many reasons why I have to be the finances person of the relationship. And now this is worrying me. I need to keep the finances together. I can not afford to pay someone to help me.

I am organized, I am a color-coded, alphabetized, spreadsheet goblin, and now I can barely keep anything together.

I hope that this is just a bad brain month and maybe my future brain will be better, but it seems to just keep getting worse. I continue to remain hopeful, late, but hopeful.

Any suggestions or recommendations to help keep my shit together would be appreciated…

[omnomnomdomcaps]

A Guide to Language Domming, Pt. I

Language Play, Qu'est-ce Que c'est?

Republished for your reading pleasure. And to all who attended my Language Play 101 Class at CAP '23- thank you!!!

What is language play?

Language domming, or language play, is a highly immersive activity where a little or sub experiences speech and media exclusively in a foreign language they either don’t know and at all or have very little knowledge of. For the purposes of most of this guide, I’ll be focusing specifically on language play in an AB/DLs or ageplay context, but it is possible to work into some other kinks - I’ll get to that near the end. 

The appeal, especially when you’re dealing with ABs and ageplayers, is pretty clear. Rather than your little having to pretend they’re too little to understand what all the grown-ups are saying, well, they genuinely won’t understand what all the grown-ups are saying. They won’t be able to grasp most of the things you’re saying to them. They won’t be able to read along with storybooks - they’ll just have to look at the pictures and use their imaginations. They’ll consume simple cartoons the way a young toddler would. And all of this, if presented with the right amount of love and care, can make your little feel very, very little. 

I do want to make it clear here that I didn’t invent this idea. A number of bigs, CGs, and doms I’ve spoken to have used native tongues or foreign picture books to make their littles feel little. It’s even come up in some fantasy writing, where an international setting, or even an extraterrestrial one, leaves a little with a babyish inability to communicate. But I haven’t seen it formally spoken about much, so I figured I would share this guide with you all.      

So how does it work?

Language play sessions normally last a few hours, but if you’re feeling adventurous (and very well prepared) you can stretch it for a day or more. The idea is to completely immerse your little in the target language for as long as you’re playing. Speak to them only in that language. Show them cartoons in that language. Read them stories for bedtime and naptime in that language. The more activities you have to help immerse them - children’s board games and card games, toys that say foreign phrases, even alphabet blocks for non-Latin languages - the more wonderful possibilities there are. 

When playing, your little may try to say things to you in English (or whatever you usually speak), and there are a few ways to handle this. You can enforce that they can’t, with spankings and other punishments, or just with a wag of the finger and a reminder of ‘non, non, en français, s'il vous plaît’ or the equivalent. Alternatively, you can just pretend not to understand them, looking quizzical and bemused (but do listen to what they’re saying, in case it’s important). In either case, as long as you don’t break into English yourself, your little will start to get used to it, and will lean more on non-verbal communication and whatever simple words or phrases they’re able to pick up (and often butcher in the cutest possible way). 

Of course, your little one not being able to talk means there’s a whole lot more they’re not going to be able to do for themselves. You’re going to have to choose their activities, so be sure to plan ahead and know your little’s likes well. You’re going to have to give some diaper checks without asking - well, you can ask, but it’s not like they’ll know that you did. You’ll also be the one figuring out the menu, and you may want to feed your little directly to add to the ageplay immersion. 

Because this is one of the more intense ageplay activities, and because communication during play can be difficult, preparation and communication beforehand is key. Learn your little’s likes and limits, make sure to put away any grown-up distractions (work phones, etc.) and set time aside firmly, and have cues in place to use as safewords (and STOP IMMEDIATELY if you see them). Oh, and when you’re done, be sure to have a gentle, warm, snuggle and talk through the experience - your little is going to have a lot they want to tell you, and you might have quite a bit to share as well. 

What if I’m not fluent in a foreign language? Can I play too?

YES! Believe it or not, you don’t have to be native or fluent in your target language to use it for a wonderful, immersive play experience. In Part II of this guide, I’m going to walk through some key words and phrases to focus on, so that you can be ready to immerse your little with just a few weeks of practice, a bit of strategic Googling, and a whole lotta love. 

Pt. II Can Be Found Here

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Sick Days & Ice Queens

—

Kili patted another fistful of snow into a snowball. He rolled it over in his hands making sure that it was solid and that it fit nicely into his hand. He set the completed snowball onto the pile and promptly scooped up another handful of snow. He was so focused on his task that he failed to notice that the school down the street had let out. This was always accompanied by yelling and laughter, and on today, the final day before Christmas break, it was no different. 

When his mother had taken his temperature that morning and told him that he was going to be staying home—school rules—he had pouted and hurled himself into his bed. The final day of school before the break never consisted of much work. It was usually just a Christmas party and some “housekeeping” as his teacher called it.

But Kili had a fever of 100.3. So he had to miss all the fun. He didn’t even feel sick. His mother had not listened to his protestations; he had already received his first dose of cold medicine.

Fili had pushed open the door to their bedroom before leaving for school. He was already dressed in his coat and hat and his gloves dangled from the cuffs of his coat. “I’ll bring you some cookies?” he offered.

“It won’t be the same,” Kili huffed, face buried in his pillow. 

“I know,” Fili agreed.

Kili rolled over to look at the bottom of the top bunk. Glow in the dark stars  were dull against the wooden boards. Some paper snowflakes hung near the foot of the bed. He sighed. “Why aren’t you sick?”

Fili shrugged. “I don’t eat food off the floor,” he teased.

“That was one time!” Kili protested loudly. 

Their conversation was interrupted by their mother calling for Fili, saying that he was going to be late.

“I’ll see you after school?” Fili offered before turning the corner.

“Yeah… I guess…” 

Kili spent the morning mopping around the house and driving his mother crazy with questions and being a general nuisance. There was nothing on the television worth watching after 9am unless he wanted to watch toddler shows, soap operas, or the news. His GameBoy batteries were dead and he couldn’t find new ones. And he did not want to read a book, thank you very much. When noon rolled around Dis fed him a lunch of vegetable soup with alphabet noodles and grilled cheese. And then she took his temperature again. 

99.8

And with that she declared him better and shooed him out the door before his coat was even fully zipped.

Kili stayed outside and that was where Fili found him a couple hours later when the knees of Kili’s snowsuit were soaked through and his cheeks were red from warmth and exertion rather than cold. He had constructed a wall of snow using an old ice cream tub and had dragged the plastic play furniture from the shed into his snow fort. 

Fili stopped next to the snow wall. “What’re you doing?”

Kili’s head snapped up. “You’re home!” he exclaimed. “You can help defeat the ice queen!”

Fili dropped his backpack on the snow. “How do we do that?”

“Well we have to be older,” Kili said matter-of-factly. “Like old enough that you have a beard. And then we have to go to the faeries to get their help.”

“Faeries?”

Kili nodded vehemently. “They’re the only ones that know how to defeat the ice queen,” he said, then added as inspiration struck, “Maybe they have a magic potion! Or a sword! Or—”

“A magic spell!” Fili interrupted, already getting sucked into his brother’s imaginative play.

“Yes!” Kili nodded.

“I’m going to get my boots and then I’ll be back,” Fili said. “My toes are already wet.” He lifted a wet sneaker as proof. 

“Can you bring Oscar when you come back out?” Kili shouted at Fili’s back before he disappeared inside.

“Yes,” Fili shouted back. 

Fili returned a few minutes later with different shoes and his own snow gear and a wooden reindeer clutched in one fist. He set Oscar down on the table. 

“So how do we find the faeries?”

Kili spelled out his plan and the two of them traveled through “Mirkwood” to the “Long Lake” their imaginations turning the bushes that were icy and had a few leaves still clinging to their mostly bare branches and the koi pond in their neighbors yard turning into a dense and magical forest that bewitched its visitors and a lake that was visited by a dragon. The air was cold and tasted of snow, but the two boys stayed out until the street lights were coming on. 

“Fili! Kili! Dinner time!” Their mother called them away from their play and everything drifted back to reality. Oscar was a wooden toy, not a warm companion that made sure they didn’t fall into the lake or the river. The plastic play furniture was no longer a wooden table laden with rich foods to tempt them away from their quest. But the invisible Ice Queen was still out there, undefeated, as the dense covering of snow was proof.

The boys rushed inside knowing that tomorrow they could build a different world with their imaginations.

[sleepinglionhearts]

Man, just saw a post about it, but renewed my frustration over work nonsense yesterday

Being like, oh, cool! It's disability pride month! We get to switch the displays in the store! I wanna make a really cool display right up front!!

Getting a cart to go start selecting books from our wide array of children's books, picture books, YA novels, adult fiction, nonfiction, etc that I know feature disabled characters and people and that I've seen sitting on the shelves for a while, our previous book buyer was always suuuuuper vocal about finding books w disabled characters, after all, representation just MATTERED SO MUCH to her,

And then being absolutely dumbfounded when we BARELY HAVE ANYTHING outside of characters w ADHD/Autism. MAYBE anxiety. PERHAPS a character has cancer. THE FAINTEST SUGGESTION of a wheelchair in one book. Huntington's? Question mark? In another? Conditions resulting in disfigurement/amputation? The concept could possibly exist in this book, uhh.. maybe...... anything else? Ha! Not on these shelves I fucking guess?!

Like.... we have a ton of books w queer rep! Different body types! Different skin tones! Teach your toddler about social justice! Transgender characters! Nonbinary characters! The alphabet but we're making it gay! At least one book, I think, with asexual characters! But no, we don't have our self-empowerment books anymore or the little guide to sexuality and disability, we have Buddhist monk advice for anxious people, but nooooo we DON'T have that cool book that talked about disability activism anymore, and definitely not in time for July!

I know she and I were at odds before she left, and I know my specifically putting "National month of..." prompts up on my desk calendar after she expressed it was "so difficult to find out what each month is the month of!" probably really irritated her, but I'm like. Appalled that she hadn't been ordering to restock for disability pride month since she always made such a big deal about having books like that in the store.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

There's a handful of reasons I relate to Wylan so strongly, but one of them has to be the unique experience of being an illiterate adult.

A few years ago, right before the pandemic, I moved across the world to work in a country where I didn't speak the main language. None of the languages commonly spoken in my new home uses the Latin alphabet so attempting to read and pronounce any letters/words in an unfamiliar writing system has been difficult.

Just don't be ignorant, you might think. Learn the language! For the record, I did. Well, I started to, but then the pandemic hit. My language class stopped and strict quarantines limited opportunities to practice. Two years and two babies later the world opened back up. Work and my tiny dictators, I mean, toddlers have kept me too busy to throw myself into learning the language with the gusto I once had. But over the years I've learned enough to get by with basic pleasantries: hello, goodbye, thank you, yes, no. Numbers 1-10. And how to order food at a restaurant. "How are you?" "Good." Unfortunately, that’s the limited extent of my conversational abilities.

The alphabet still trips me up and I often feel like a kindergartner slowly stringing syllables together and incorrectly sounding out words. Plus, there's the bonus of pronouncing the words but still not knowing they actually mean.

So I relate to Wylan a little bit in having to navigate the world at a disadvantage, one he cannot fully understand. Luckily for Wylan he can speak even though he can’t read, which gives him more coping strategies than are available to me. But you don’t realize just how much is written, especially in the modern world, until you are unable to read it.

Being an illiterate adult is a humbling experience. I cannot emphasize that enough. Book Wylan is a teenager, but was thrown into the “real world” and left to fend for himself as if he were an adult. Show Wylan is an illiterate adult who was also more or less thrown into the wild world. And I’d like to imagine that he shares similar illiterate adult encounters and experiences with me.

There isn’t a moment that I forget that I can’t read the language around me. However, it’s very easy to tune out the writing. To be blind to it and not see signs or labels because my brain stops looking for them, unable to to understand them.

Getting lost. Knowing the name of the place, a building, an address, the street that I'm searching for, but not being able to locate it by sight even though it is right there.

Walking past shops and stores unable to read their name and wondering what’s inside. What do they sell? What business do they hold? There’s no way of knowing unless I go inside myself.

Shopping and buying items based on the image on the packaging. Trying to figure out if there’s any difference between two items. Occasionally guessing wrong, buying the wrong thing.

Need instructions? Written directions (like for cooking)? Lol, Guess I'm going to wing it and hope for the best.

Being unable to read a written menu and ordering something generic because the restaurant probably serves it.

Putting off chores that require using the skill I don't have.

Having to act overly polite to everyone (regardless of how I feel) because I am the inconvenience when everyone else is just living their normal life.

Being treated like a child because, in my inability to read, I have the skills of a child so people will treat me the same way they would a child. And worse, all the while still having to act so polite about it because again, I am the inconvenience, even though I am being spoken down to like a child.

Accidentally, unintentionally being rude because I can't follow the sign's directions.

Pretending that I can read (or speak). Sometimes nodding along and agreeing with without any context is easier than a admitting I don't have a clue what's happening.

And in the modern day... I rely heavily on my cell phone to translate the way Wylan would use speech to text features. And there are times when there's no cell service, the phone or app stop working correctly. The translations/transcriptions are imperfect and confusing. It's scary when those safety nets stop working.

So yeah, being an illiterate adult is quite the experience. It can be exhausting. I am incredibly lucky that in my case it's due to living in a multicultural world and that given the time and patience, I could became literate and fluent in another language. The entire experience gives quite the insight on the hurdles and experiences Wylan might face.

[chaoslulled]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃….

𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴: 𝙰𝙼𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙰 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙶𝙴: 𝚃𝚆𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚈-𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴://𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙰𝙻.𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

a daughter born of a siren mother and a reaper father; her father was on the ship that her mother had been determined to bring down, sent there to collect the souls of the dead and usher them to their next location. they two of them fell into a gorey sort of love that only supernatural beings that feed off of death can  –– and as a result, made life. her mother wanted nothing to do with her and her father gave her a coven of witches who owed him a favor. afraid that her voice would manifest, they performed a spell to keep it locked away inside of a key locket that she wears around her neck. none of the witches are happy with having the siren-reaper hybrid in their possession. they don't treat her like an extension of them, a daughter, but instead just a nuisance. she mainly stays in the attic when she's not attending school –– forbidden from any of the spell books that lurk on the shelves below. it isn't until she's sixteen and restless with teenage rebellion that she begins to dive into what she really is, knowing that she is not a witch. none of them come forth with any answers for her, and it results in her sneaking into the office when her pseudo-parents are out, breaking into their lockbox, and finding the manilla envelope that has her name scrawled across the front of it. within it contains the information that they were given about her from her father and nothing more. frustrated and more confused, she steals the documents and resorts to not knowing more about her lineage, but having that emptiness that settles inside of her when she realizes that she has no one to go to. her father has long since disappeared –– any searches reveal nothing, and selfish call outs in the middle of the night don't summon him. when amelia is eighteen she meets malachi westin. she is initially hesitant given that he is a witch, but the two of them manage to hit it off quickly. he's the one that senses the power locked away around her neck and together they destroy the locket –– setting the true power amelia has been denied free. with it comes the constant fear of using her voice against others and making them do what she wishes without meaning to –– and also brings the reaper association down on her, this newfound one that has escaped them for this long. she quickly becomes caught up in the politics of the supernatural world –– and what they want of their new favorite child. she is sentenced to collecting souls and passing judgment –– something that proves far harder than amelia could've ever imagined it to be.

𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴://𝙹𝚄𝙹𝚄𝚃𝚂𝚄 𝙺𝙰𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽.𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

sold by her father at age five at an auction house underground that deals in curses and unique curse users. amelia was born with the ability of cursed speech, rare outside of the clans that normally hold it. without much care for a daughter, her father sold her to the highest bidder –– fetching a million dollars for the doe eyed red head in his possession who looked horrified and alone when she was pulled away from his hand. she was taken to tokyo where she was to begin her training immediately, even if the toddler didn't know what was actively happening. she was trained day in and day out –– she learned how to use a gun before she knew how to fully form the alphabet with her hands. she was taught how to be a weapon before she was ever taught how to be a daughter. the cursed souls found their lucky weapon –– a yakuza adjacent faction that deals happily in curse users and pay days from obliterating anyone that stands in their way. she doesn't often actually exorcise curses; her power is used to lure normal humans close before she pulls that trigger. however, in the rare occasion that she is around curses, she can use her voice in order to make them obey and do her bidding. she's known further for bringing death wherever she goes; held down by the shackles of the organization that has bought her and raised her, she often doesn't know a way out even when she gets separated from them in the depths of shibuya the night that sukuna sets his plan into motion. in the wreckage of the world that's left afterward, amelia learns what it means to be a curse user when the activity around her begins to ramp up and there is no organization to fall back on –– and it teaches her a valuable lesson about just how cursed speech can actively affect those around her when she tries to learn how to lean on others when the world comes crashing down.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Ranking cursive letters

A is pretty good. Gets the point across and looks like a regular a, if a lowercase one. 9/10 and would be 10/10 if the capital A actually looked like a capital A

The capital M and N are fine, but the lowercase forms have one too many humps. The n looks like an m and the m looks like someone tried to write an m and screwed up. U and W have the same problem. 7/10.

The lowercase I is just about perfect, but the uppercase one is is skating on thin ice. How hard is it to just draw a line instead of this weird loop? 5/10.

P is perfect. That looks exactly like a p, no need to stretch it into some weird loopy form. 10/10

The lowercase G is good but the uppercase...

3/10. Do better.

S

Fuck you. Fu ckyou. Go fuck yourself. That is not an s. The capital is a fucked up ampersand and the lowercase is closer to an a than anything else. How do you fuck up a curvy line in two completely different ways? I want to raise whoever designed this from the dead and beat them over the head with a toddler's alphabet book until they learn what an s looks like. This is so bad that it must have been done deliberately as a prank on future generations. 0/10. I award you no points and may god have mercy on your soul.