To All The Littles Out There In Tumblrland

friends asked me to draw a bee with a binky here you guys can have it too

i love my sister so much,,, i just wanna play with her wings all day and never have any responsibility

🌙 - If the affini weren't so obsessed with making sure we're all good girls for mommy in order to get treats (which is just drugging us up to be mindless fuck slaves) then I'd be more willing to fuck an affini. But no, I don't wanna risk being injected by a pleasure drug mid sex and she hypnotizes me into being her good girl.

being absolutely handled by a woman in her 40s calling me her daughter while shoving her fingers in my mouth along with my own saliva from sucking her cock

little sprout nervous to ask for a root beer 'cuz it's got a swear word in its name

Reading Golden Ladder by @ashinbloom and I’m fucking bawling. Seeing Cory get flashbacks and her regression slips in the same way I do and calling out for her “mommy” and Riker stepping up to that role for her is just… god. Ash writes age regression so fucking well. The gender dysphoria is on point too, and how other trans characters talk to Cory’s dysphoria directly like “no you’re not creepy” without her even voicing it is very similar to what I do with other trans girls when they come out.

The Affini are so varied in this fic. Both in body type and mannerisms. It pushes the setting forward for what an Affini can be or act. They get petty! They have internal power struggles. It’s so good.

The story frames Caregiver/little dynamics in both a horror and wish fulfillment light by presenting multiple scenarios and how one can easily become the other. It’s peak HDG.

Don’t mind me gonna crawl into a corner and bawl my eyes out while reading more chapters

I want you to try something for me.

Try looking up for a moment in whatever room or space you’re in right now and just imagine what a creature double your size would actually be like. Perhaps they would have to hunch over just to fit. They certainly wouldn’t get through the door without significant compression.

Imagine what a creature double your width would be like. A creature that size would carry themselves with a sense of scale, a sense of magnitude that would be humbling to observe. It would feel powerful, dangerous perhaps.

Imagine that creature was made entirely of flora, lush waxy leaves and flowers. A face constructed of a wooden mask that would almost be the size of your chest. It would look down on you, it would be impossible not to. Your eye-line would reach their waist, and with your arms outstretched you would maybe reach their petal constructed pectorals.

A creature like that would bring with it a smell. Anyone who has been in a greenhouse knows that a volume of plant matter that dense generates a rich perfume of life itself. Sweet and grassy and floral.

A creature like that would flutter and tremble with every movement, ripples from the sheer weight of it running down with every fabricated breath and subtle adjustment. Imagine each shifting change, how noticeable it would be. How much of your animal brain would be dedicated to those observations, making sure that you were not in danger.

Envision how piercing its gaze would be, focused and attentive on you from those massive eyes so high above you. How it would make your heart race if that huge wooden mask clicked and clattered as it adjusted into a thorny smile.

Consider how it would actually feel to be lifted off the ground by this figure. You wouldn’t become weightless under them. You would be just as strong as you currently are, just as beholden to your own centre of gravity, simply supported by their tremendous arms and careful vines. The strength necessary to make such a manoeuvre effortless would be immensely tangible. Fear inducing perhaps. Or maybe it would be like a profound surrender, to be so easily carried in a way you haven’t felt since you were a child.

Consider all of this. And look back up. Really try to place this creature in your room.

Now imagine that it loves you.

That is what biorhythms are.

That, is what an Affini is.

So girls, when are you going to stop pretending and let mommy take over?