#which means they’re failing or they’re lazy

[starlooove]

I knew y’all were gonna take ‘the narrative doesn’t have to hold your hand’ and run with it

[successfulgoddess333]

Why the Void State is so easy?

When bloggers say the void is easy

They’re not lying

Here’s why

Every time you fall asleep you lose awareness of the 3D

During this time

Everything around you does not exist because you are in your 4D

Which is why entering the void is easy

You’re doing EXACTLY what you do when you fall asleep

You just lose awareness of the 3D!!!

Only difference is now

You’re doing it on purpose

You’re just becoming aware that you are pure consciousness

There are lots of moments in life where we are no longer aware of focusing on the 3D

When we zone out in class

Daydreaming about our crush

Thinking what we’re gonna do when we get home from school or whatever

During these moments we do not focus on the 3D

And it feels good

To daydream

About our desires if about our favorite person or food of whatever

Because in that particular situation you are just thinking of something that makes you feel good

You’ve ever daydreamed so hard you can physically feel what you’re imagining? It takes you away from your reality

Which is why people snap their fingers at you to snap you back into “reality”

But What is reality?

Reality to me

Is whatever you assume

Whatever you want

If you’re sitting in class hungry

But you’re daydreaming about a juicy cheeseburger

I mean think about it

It’s got the perfect amount of cheese

Lettuce tomato onions the meat is cooked to your desire crispy or soft buns

(Damn I’m getting hungry)

Be honest

You just went

“Mmm” didn’t you?

Because when you daydream

It results in feelings cuz our body it reacting to whatever we’re thinking about causing emotions

Emotions play a key part in our self confidence

If you think negatively you’ll feel bad about yourself

Think positive thoughts and you’ll feel good

It’s this easy because you’re simply giving your positive thoughts a label and by labeling them you’re giving them importance

So when it comes to the void state

Reality Shifting manifesting Lucid Dreaming etc whatever

Feel

The key is to FEEL

Your thoughts

Feel your desires as you visualize them

Many people label things and give it importance

By saying you “failed” to enter the void of to shift

You’re giving it power and importance

STOP DOING THAT ✋

Because the only powerful thing here is you

There’s nothing in this world you can’t have Sugar

If you want it a you it is yours

Like

It’s yours

Failure in my opinion IS an option if you assume you’ll fail

Then you will

Don’t make this an option for yourself

“I’m gonna TRY to enter the void tonight”

Yeah bitch that’s exactly what you always do

You TRY

You gave that word importance

By doing so

You’re only stuck thinking and feeling

That all you are able to do is TRY

No you are GOING TO

There’s no trying there’s doing

When we call ourselves a procrastinator or lazy we give that word importance

By giving it that label

We’re making it harder for us to change our ways

When we say we are depressed

We’re giving it power

STOP PUTTING LABELS ON SHIT THAT DOESN’T EVEN RESONATE WITH YOU

So when meditating for the void

Your desires are that cheeseburger(sorry for any vegans here)

Thoughts create feelings

When we think about something bad

Like

“Omg what if this what if that?”

Etc

You’re going to start panicking

Mental disorders, intrusive thoughts are JUST like this

Coming from someone who used to deal with countless mental issues

I’ve been knowing this

So think about it the longer we let in unwanted thoughts we go crazy obsessing over them to the point where we start hearing or seeing things because our minds told us so

This is what created delusion fear

And something as simple as a thought could cause you to feel very negative thing as if it were real

If you think about something negative and it creates negative feelings and energy

Not only did you give it power but you’re letting it consume your energy

Why?

If you can think negatively

You can think positively

Like I said before

It’s YOUR brain

Why are you fighting it?

You’re fighting yourself OVER yourself and you’re still losing??? Huh

Babe how you losing a war that YOU started??

And why are you letting fuck ass thoughts that don’t resonate with you win?

If it doesn’t resonate with your soul it’s not meant for you and if it’s not meant for you then it will never be true

Because thoughts are thoughts

They’re the results of whatever you spend our time obsessing over

If you’re always talking about your crush

You’re gonna think about them 24/7 right?

Stop thinking

Start feeling

It’s ok to daydream

But don’t constantly think and obsess over your desires

Because of f you already had your desired bf or your desired face you wouldn’t obsess over it

LIVE IN THE END

This is your movie

If you you can skip to the best part and just stay there

Life is a movie

Who cares if nobody comes to watch and support

Who cares if it’s not interesting for some people

It only has to make sense for you

It only has to make you happy

The 3D is just here

The 4D is the REAL reality

In the 4D you are everything you wanna be

In the 3D you are not

Why?

Well bitch you’re not connecting with your 4D self

Because your 4D self

Is YOU

The 3D is dead

3D you exists because of her assumptions

You might think this is clicking

But the 4D you gets it

The 3D you does not

She needs to disconnect from HER reality

In order to be in tune with her 4D reality

So she can live in her real true reality

You need to connect with your 4D

The 3D is the cover of a book

It can be changed if you(the author) doesn’t like it

But the 4D is the inside of the book once it’s been published

You’re the author of your own life

Don’t hand someone else the pen

Create the story(reality) that YOU want to see and live in

Add new characters

Create plot twists

Because the best thing about being the author of your own life

Is nobody gets to tell you how to write your story

If you don’t like how you’re living

Turn the page💗💗

[r1elle]

for my peace of mind i want to live in the belief that miya atsumu has AT LEASTTTT got to be a candidate in the “pretending to be nonchalant but horrendously failing at it” trope.

like can you just imagine ..

a just freshly out of the change room miya atsumu, —who, by the way, has his brothers clothes on. (he wants to make a cool impression, and unfortunately, it’s his brother who always has the better outfit choices between the both of them. though he’d rather die than admit it.) anywho, he’s outside of the gym on standby to see if you had already walked past the building at your usual time. (he knows because he’s timed it.)

and when he realizes you already did, and that he had missed to take advantage of that one time slot in your routine, he’s BUMMED. he’s bummed out like a bum in bum central. but it happens as much as it doesn’t, so he still can’t figure out why he’s so dejected whenever the outcome turns out to be the former. (maybe cause he’s just so in love with you like that ?? duh)

but anyway, cmon now. you really didn’t even stop by to see if you could catch a glimpse of him setting ?? serving ?? heck, even spiking ?!?! because he couldn’t care less whether or not you knew which position he played, or what move he often did on court—…okay, well, maybe he cared just a bit. but screw all that. he can just tell you all about it when he’s finally able to call you his ! because what’s most important right now, is you seeing him during the times when he looks his “absolute coolest”.

but goodness gracious you should see the complete 360 his expression does when he sees you laughing along with your friends near the vending machine, indicating you hadn’t fully left just yet. he’s basically grown dog ears, and they’re raised HIGHH. osamu just wants to throw up, especially even more so as he sees heart eyes practically being etched onto his twin brothers dna, and he could only hope it wouldn’t apply to him as well.

with this profound opportunity, atsumu suggests that maybe they should buy something from the vending machine using their remaining coins. (“their” as in osamu’s. atsumu has .99 to spare, but he thinks he’ll save it for another day. perhaps to buy you those 50 cent candies at the nearby 7/11?).

“i’m thirsty. are ya not? c’mon. let’s use ‘em remainin’ cents.” though, anyone can see that it wasn’t a suggestion. it was a demand. (atsumu has never loved the “i was born 5 minutes before you.” card so hard in his entire life.)

osamu can’t help but feel the obvious desperation radiating off of his brothers anticipating expression, so he feels bad and says yes. atsumu internally thanks his brother, thinking that maybe telling him that ‘he should’ve ate him in the womb’ a couple of days ago was a bit mean.

but now that he’s infront of you, what should he do? the boy can physically feel his critical thinking skills melting away.

and so, with little time to actually prepare, he settles on nodding his head towards yours as a greeting (? if it can even be called a greeting), avoiding eye contact as he poorly executes his cowardly advances. he internally wallows in doing so, because that was NOT what he wanted to do. gosh….why couldn’t he be as smooth as he was on court ?!?! what he wanted to do was,—

“hey,” [add in a lazy but still oozing with confidence expression. whatever looks nonchalant and cool!] “want this? i was gonna buy one for myself,” [handing off his coins with one hand while his other one goes off to casually brush his blond hair to the side,] “but eh. dun’ really want it. take it, if ya’ want.” [finishing off with a low-key but proud sniff as he shoves his hands onto his pockets.]

but no. that was not what had happened. at all.

instead, he’s now completely focused over to the vending machine, his eyes directly staring onto the drink he had caught glimpse of you already drinking. (how could he not? it was the whole reason his plan backfired.)

well. at least he was able to give out a (puny) nod at you.

before he could even do anything else to salvage this already weak pursuit of his, atsumu hears you and your friends’ conversation exit out of his earshot. assuming that you were now further away from him, his knees seem to find themselves giving in.

one may think it was due to the exercises coach had given for todays practice.

but miya atsumu is a star volleyball player who yields the magic of ‘athleticism’. so surely, the runs up the mountain during todays agenda should hardly be the reason of any damage caused on the blonds already well maintained physique.

and surely,

heated cheeks, rapid beating of the heart, growing sense of frustration, and a yearning for some sort of impactful interaction with you..

wouldn’t qualify as side effects of hard practice, right?

“stop leanin’ on the vending machine like that, ya’ idiot.” osamu snidely comments, and his ‘face-mushed-to-the-vending-machine’ twin brother can only groan in response.

——

the walk back home is surprisingly quiet, until a low grumble decides to finally greet the silence.

“i was supposed to talk to her.”

“maybe that lame nod told her all that ya’ needed to say.”

“it ain’t my fault she already had a drink in her hand!”

“yeah, yeah. sure. ya’ still looked lame, though. i almost felt bad.”

“shut up! ya’ don’t know what it’s like to be a man in love!”

“…..….”

a silence.

a silence from atsumu who’s now just truly realized how doomed he was.

a silence from osamu who wonders if the person behind them had heard atsumu’s rather flamboyant confession.

“love, huh? didn’t know you were that deep into her.”

“ARRRRRRVHHHHGGGGGGGGGH! SHUT YER’ TRAP, SAMU’!! I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHIN’ !!!”

and of course,

a silence from you, who couldn’t help but just take the longer way back home, all because it meant getting to walk a few steps behind him. (even if he had always failed to notice you doing so, every. single. time.)

i was thinking of ryu sunjae from lovely runner while making this … i hope most ppl will see the vision 💔💔 I JUST LOVE LOSER MEN WHO JUST LOVE THEIR PARTNERS SO VERY MUCH !!!!

[coriannawrites]

Lots and lots of nightbringer liberties taken here, and this is not a happy imagine:

But…

The one time MC participates in the “denying your partner a kiss trend”, they get sent back in time to a world where they haven’t started dating their partner.

It’s karma, when they reach a hand out for comfort and their demon looks at them in confusion and abject disgust.

MC is so, so very sorry. They wish they’d gotten one more kiss because it looks like they won’t be getting anything for a long time.

Lucifer doesn’t let them get close enough to try and it stings. The Lucifer MC knows would’ve leaned into their touch with a soft sigh and a kiss. This Lucifer is frazzled — more than usual— and wrangling not only the demon he created but the guilt that weighs him d own.

Mammon isn’t around long enough for them to try, always off chasing another high. And MC had loved his thrill-seeking nature, but not when they couldn’t join Mammon on their escapades.

Levi’s room is locked. MC saw him once and then never again. They went to open the door once, but a haggard looking Lucifer had turned the corner and warned them not to. They could always open the door, if they didn’t mind the high risk of death.

Kissing Satan? The Satan that’s an uncontrollable beast who wants to maim everything in his path, that Lucifer is struggling to contain? MC is foolish, but not foolish enough to go into uncharted territory. Even if they miss their Satan, a lot.

It’s easy to kiss Asmo. To touch him, to feel him, to hug him. But it’s not the same. The feelings MC pours into those hugs and kisses aren’t reciprocated, and it ends up hurting more than it heals. Their Asmodeus would kiss them like they were the most precious thing in the Devildom. This Asmo accepts their affection to feed the gaping maw of desire and insecurity in his soul. This is not their Asmo.

There’s always something in Beel’s mouth. If MC isn’t lucky, it could be them next. Beel is depressed post losing one of his loved ones, and sad people eat. As the avatar of gluttony, he’s famished, more than usual and he can barely control his urges. There’s no chance in hell MC will get what they want from him.

Belphegor is in a state where he’d probably kill MC if they tried. One— they’re not dating in this universe. Two— his sister died. He’s not exactly looking for a partner or lover right now, he probably thinks you’re a sick and twisted person for trying to. Mostly too lazy to fight MC off, but physical touch with him does not feel good.

Diavolo? Good luck. To get close enough to do so would mean you’re in close enough range for Barbatos to wring your neck like a dish towel. And he will, with no hesitation. Who does MC think they are, approaching the future demon king and begging for affection they’re not owed?

Barbatos is a bit distant. MC had expected this— Barbatos must’ve seen it, the timelines where MC tries (and fails) to get affection and comfort from him. He for one, does not want to provide it. Bugger off.

Bonus:

When things feel terrible (which they mostly are), Solomon is waiting with open arms.

[familyabolisher]

hi if u don’t mind me asking, could u please elaborate on your thoughts on the critique of contemporary anti-intellectualism (specifically on social media)? i’m legitimately curious and enjoy a lot of ur analysis and commentary i mean this in good faith :)

Broadly speaking, the philosophical concept of anti-intellectualism tends to critically describe the ideological + rhetorical relegation of intellectual production to an elitist practice fundamentally at odds with the interests of the layman; and, crucially, the treatment of these categories as fixities. I disagree with the propositions of that philosophical discourse as well, but that’s not always the form that the discourse takes on this website. On here, ‘anti-intellectualism’ is more of a vague catch-all used to describe anything from people who express frustration with the literary canon & mainstream schooling in ways that don’t coddle the sensibilities of people with literature degrees to people who come out with outright fascistic views on provocative art; it attempts to corral what are in fact very disparate positions and perspectives under the umbrella of insufficient ‘intellect,’ often shorthanded to ‘reading comprehension’ or ‘media literacy’ (or ‘[in]curiosity,’ a new favourite) without any materialist investigation into what we mean when we talk about intellect and literacy and a lack thereof or whether this is a politically expedient description of the dynamic[s] in question.

When I say materialism, I mean it in the Marxist sense, ie. as a counter to idealism—because what’s being described here is a fundamentally idealist (and therefore useless) position. The discourse of anti-intellectualism as it exists on this website relies on idealist propositions—people lack curiosity, they lack interest, they are ‘lazy,’ they are ‘illiterate’ where ‘illiterate’ is not a value-neutral statement about one’s relationship to a socially constituted ‘literacy’ but communicating a moral indictment, at its worst they are ‘stupid,’ ‘idiots’—these descriptors rely on an assumption of immutable internal properties rather than providing a materialist description for why things are the way that they are. These aren’t actionable descriptors; at best they’re evasive because they circumvent serious interrogation of the conditions they’re describing, at worst they’re harbingers of an inclination towards eugenicist rhetoric. The discourse casts those who are ‘illiterate’—which in this capacity means those who fail to perform conventional literacy, who lack a traditional education, who don’t demonstrate sufficient interest in classic literature—or the more unkind ‘stupid’ (which, frankly, is what people want to say when they say ‘illiterate’ or ‘incurious’ anyway, lmao) as socially disposable and places the onus of changing one’s behaviour (so as to not be cast as illiterate/incurious/stupid) on them rather than asking what conditions have produced XYZ discourse of social disposability and responding with compassion and ethical diligence; I hope I don’t have to explain why this is eugenicist.

The discourse also lacks an ability to coherently describe what is meant by the ‘intellectualism’ in question—after all, merely appealing to ‘intellectualism’ is a similarly idealist rhetorical move if you don’t have the material grounding to back it up—and indeed tends to dismiss legitimate critiques of intellectual + cultural production as ‘anti-intellectual.’ People love to talk about ‘literacy,’ but don’t like expounding on what they’re actually describing when they do so—the selection of traits and actions that come together to constitute a correct demonstration of ‘literacy’ are built on the bedrock of eg. an ability to thrive within the school system (a mechanism of social control and stratification), fluently speak the dominant language by which this ‘literacy’ is being assessed (in online spaces like Tumblr this is usually English), and engage with the ‘right’ texts in the ‘right’ ways where ‘right’ means ‘invested with legitimacy and authority by the governing body of the academy.’ Literacy is used as a metric of assimilation into hegemonic society by which immigrant and working-class children are made rhetorically disposable unless they demonstrate their ability to integrate into the hegemonic culture (linked post talks about immigrant families being rendered ‘illiterate’ as a tactic of racism in France, but the same applies to the US, UK, etc); similarly, disabled people who for whatever reason will never achieve the level of ‘literacy’ required to not have Tumblr users doing vagueposts about how you deserve a eugenicist death for watching a kids’ show are by this discourse rendered socially disposable, affirming the paradigms which already make up their experience under a social system which reifies ableism in order to sustain itself. (This includes, by the way, the genre of posts making fun of the idea that someone with ADHD could ever struggle with reading theory.) ‘Literacy’ as the ability to understand and respond to a text is difficult and dispersed according to disparate levels of social access, and a lack of what we call literacy is incredibly shameful; any movement towards liberation (and specifically liberatory pedagogy) worth its salt needs to challenge the stigma against illiteracy, but this website’s iteration of ‘anti-intellectualism’ discourse seems to only want to reaffirm it.

Similarly, the discourse dismisses out of hand efforts to give a materialist critique of the academy and the body of texts that make up the ‘canon’—I’m thinking of a post I saw literally this morning positing a hypothetical individual’s disinterest in reading canonical (“classic”) literature as an “anti-intellectual” practice which marked them as an “idiot.” (Obviously, cf. above comments re. ‘stupidity,’ ‘idiocy’ as eugenicist constructions.) People who will outright call themselves Marxists seem to get incredibly uncomfortable at the suggestion that there are individuals for whom the literary canon is not even slightly interesting and who will never in their lives engage with it or desire to engage with it, and this fact does not delegitimise their place in revolutionary thinking and organising (frankly, in many areas, it strengthens it); they seem determined to continue to defer to the canon as a signifier of authority and therefore value, rather than acknowledging its role as a marker of class and classed affects and a rubric by which civility (cf. linked post above) could be enforced. (I believe the introduction to Chris Baldick’s The Social Mission of English Criticism touches on this dimension of literary studies as a civilising mission of sorts, as well as expounding on the ways in which ‘literary studies’ as we presently understand it is a nineteenth-century phenomenon responding to the predictable nineteenth-century crises and contradictions.) People will defer to, for example, Dumas, Baldwin, Morrison, to contravene the idea that the literary canon is made up of ‘straight white men,’ without appreciating that this is a hugely condescending way to talk about their work, that this collapses three very different writers into the singular category of ‘Black canonical writer’ and thus stymies engagement with their work at any level other than that of 'Black canonical literature' (why else put Dumas and Morrison in the same sentence, unless as a cheap rhetorical ‘gotcha’? I like both but they’re completely different writers lmfao), and that this excises from the sphere of legitimacy those Black writers who don’t make it into the authorising space of the canon; and, of course, reaffirms the canon’s authenticity and dismisses out of hand the critique of loyalty to hegemony that the ‘straight white men’ aphorism rightly imposes.

The discourse operates on a unilateral scale by which the more ‘literacy’ (ie. ability to speak the language of the literati) one has, the greater their moral worth, and a lack of said ‘literacy’ indicates the inverse. This overlooks the ways in which the practice of literary criticism wholly in line with what these people would call ‘intellectualism’ has historically been wielded as a tactic of reactionary conservatism; one only has to look at the academic output of Harold Bloom for examples of this. People will often pay lipservice to the hegemony of the academy and the practices by which only certain individuals are allowed access to intellectual production (stratified along classed + racialised lines, of course), but fail to really internalise this idea in understanding that the critical practices they afford a significant degree of legitimacy are inextricable from the academy from which they emerged, and that we can and should be imagining alternative forms of pedagogy and criticism taking place away from sites which restrict access based on allegiance to capital. Part of my communism means believing in the abolition of the university; this is not an ‘anti-intellectual’ position but a straightforwardly materialist one.

A final core problem with the 'anti-intellectualism' discourse is that it's obscurantist. As I explained above, it posits the problem with eg. poor engagement with theoretical concepts, challenging art, etc., to be one of 'intellect' and 'curiosity,' idealist rather than materialist states. In practice, the reasons behind what gets cast as 'anti-intellectualism' are very disparate. Sometimes, we're talking about a situation wherein (as I explained above) someone lacks 'literacy'; sometimes we're talking about the reason for someone's refusal to engage with and interpret art with care and deference being one of bigotry (eg. racist dismissals of non-white artists' work, misogynistic devaluing of women's work, etc.); sometimes we're talking about a reactive discomfort with marginalised people communicating difficult concepts online as a 'know-your-place' response (eg. backlash against 'jargon' on here is almost always attacking posts from/about marginalised people talking about their oppression, with the attacks coming from people who have failed to properly understand that oppression; I've been called a jargonistic elitist for talking about antisemitism, I've seen similar things happen to mutuals who talk about racism and transmisogyny). All of these are incredibly different situations that require incredibly different responses; the person who doesn't care to engage with a text in a way that an English undergrad might because doing so doesn't interest them or they lack the requisite skill level is not comparable to the person who doesn't care to engage with a text because they don't respect the work of a person of colour enough to do so. Collapsing these things under the aegis of 'anti-intellectualism' lacks explanatory power and fails to provide a sufficient actionable response.

Ultimately, the discourse is made up of a lot of people who are very high on their own capabilities when it comes to literary analysis (which, as others have pointed out, seems to be the only arena where all this ever takes place, despite the conventional understanding of ‘media literacy’ referring as much to a discerning eye for propaganda and misinformation as an ability to churn out a cute little essay on Don Quixote) and have managed to find an acceptable outlet for their dislike of anyone who lacks the same, and have provided retroactive justification in the form of the claim that not only is [a specific form of] literary analysis [legible through deference to the authority of the literary canon & the scholarship of the nineteenth century and onward surrounding it] possible for everyone, it is in fact necessary in order to access the full breadth of one’s humanity such that an absence thereof reveals an individual as subhuman and thus socially disposable. A failure to be sufficiently literate is only ever a choice and a personal failing, which is how this discourse escapes accountability for the obviously bigoted presumptions upon which it rests. In this, all materialism is done away with; compassion is done away with, as it becomes possible to describe the multiplicity of reasons why someone cannot or does not demonstrate ‘literacy’ in X, Y or Z ways in the sum total of a couple of adjectives; nothing productive comes of this discourse but a reassertion of the conditions of hegemony in intellectual practice and the bolstering of the smugness of a few people at the expense of alienating everyone else.

As I’ve said countless times before, the way to counteract what we might perceive as ‘incuriosity’ or disinterest in challenging texts is to talk about these challenging texts and our approaches to them as often as we can, to make the pedagogical practices that are usually kept behind the walls of the academy as widely accessible as possible (and to adjust our pedagogy beyond the confines of ideological hegemony that the academy imposes), and to encourage a culture by which people feel empowered to share their thoughts, discuss, ask questions, and explore without being made to feel ashamed for not understanding something. The people who cry ‘anti-intellectualism’ because they saw someone on Tiktok express a disinterest in reading Jane Eyre are accomplishing none of this.

[moniibu]

Reader finding out that Yan Bully is being sweet to them, kisses Yan Bully and is slowly falling for them?

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY X FEM READER *:･ﾟ✧

this is based on my other works, which are on my page. i plan on making a masterlist soon where you can just click.

things to watch out for: yandere themes, bullying, lovebombing(?), possessiveness, delusions, etc.

word count: i’m a little too lazy to do a word count this time 😅, but we both know it’s over 1k

summary: you and *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ have had a few rough patches. all of a sudden, her demeanor has switched, leaving you confused, angry, and captivated.

notes: hi everyone !! i am so sorry i took so long to make this request as well as make more parts for *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, since you guys like her so much. i’ve been busy with school and personal things so i haven’t had that much time until now to write this.

thank you once again anon for sending in a request! it means a lot to know how much you guys like my work.

this isn’t an official part two to the last request post i made, but i will be referencing from it, so make sure that you read it so you know what i’m talking about.

this honestly goes more with the second one rather than the ask itself, but they’re similar, so i added them both.

reblogging/reposting is appreciated, and like this anon here, if you would like to see anything specific, just request since requests/ask ARE OPEN !!

someone commented about the name a while ago, but this was already made, so i might use the name in the next post if i make another post about *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧

remember, this is a LESBIAN post, so MEN & MEN ALIGNED PEOPLE DNI!!

thank you guys all sm for the love and support!! i hope you enjoy this next post, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY X FEM READER *:･ﾟ✧ !!

it’s been two weeks since the whole “buy me food or else” incident, and ever since then, it’s been like hell. you hated *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. you hated the way that she purposely targeted you, or the way she made sure that you were alone from everyone else so that you would have to be by yourself. you hated the fact that you had to personally change your route to school just so she would leave you alone.

you hated *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, loathed her even, and you were sure that she felt the same way. that is, until she started following you around like she was your own personal bodyguard. instead of bullying you like she used to, she now had a possessive streak.

she no longer targeted you. instead of making you eat alone, you were now forced to eat with her and the rest of the delinquents. you were now forced to sit with her when you two shared a class. you two “coincidentally” started sharing a gym class? now no one wants to be your partner —which is thanks to her— only leaving you with picking *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ as your partner.

you hated it. she went from being the biggest migraine to completely controlling your life. in fact, the change in *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ actions only fueled your hatred more than it was before. you knew you needed to get rid of this version of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, and fast. or, at least back to where you two weren’t as close as she tried to force now.

you secretly tried to find a way to get rid of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ once and for all, or at least tried too. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ saw all of it, and quite frankly, she thought it was kinda cute. did you really think you would be able to get rid of her? she likes you, and will do anything in her power for you to feel the same way and understand how much love she has for you.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ thought it was funny at first, until she realized that means she failed in giving you an understanding that you were hers. she wanted to love you and protect you. she wanted to cherish you, and if given the chance, provide for you. she failed at letting you know, but there’s nothing money and connections can’t fix, and she has plenty of them.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ first starts harassing your friends into giving her information on what you liked. the ones who did got things in return, like getting full marks for the month or being ranked top 10 in the school. the others who decided to keep their mouths shut while *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ was being nice? they were either pulled from their sports and clubs, or purposely given bad grades unless they gave up information. the ones who still wouldn’t let up were given a talking to by some of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s other “friends”.

a couple of people dropped you while others looked at you in disgust. you were shocked and confused. you didn’t know what happened, or what got your friends to act like this until you realized that this must be one of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ doings.

honestly? you were embarrassed and blue. why would she do this? what did you do that was so terrible that not only did she bully you and force you to buy her food, but now she decided to alienate your friends from you? you had enough. you decided you were going to confront her right after the day was over with.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ locked herself in the bathroom. after getting information from your friends, she personally dressed herself to make sure that she was your exact type. she wanted you to blush the second you saw her, for you to look at her and get all coy the way she does —internally— with you. after finding out you liked people with curls, she went to the salon that exact day to make sure it was perfect.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ had on a black compression shirt, outlining her muscles. she knew you had a thing for them, and wanting to show them off so she could prove to you that she was strong and could take care of you if needed. she was nervous. so far, she’s done a 180. it might come as a surprise to you, but she genuinely wants you to know and see how much she wants you.

once *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ believes that she looks good, she grabs the bouquet of red roses and her gift bag of a necklace that she knows that you’ve been eyeing. she hopes that you don’t reject her.

after all, she’s *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, there’s no way you could reject her. sure, she would be upset, but she knows deep down that you love her. you rejecting her —if you do— just means that she has to try again until she gets it right.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ walks down the hallway with her head held high. she’s confident, and gotten rid of everything that might ruin what could come true.

you on the other hand are a complete opposite from how *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ is feeling. anger is pulsing through your veins, and you can’t wait to see her so you can demand answers on why she did what she did.

you walk down the hallway and see *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. while she has a mixture of happiness and being flustered on her face, you on the other hand mismatch her energy. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ can see it, and her mood immediately changes.

“*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, get over here, now. let’s talk.” you leave no room for argument, anger clear as day in your voice.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ follows behind you silently like a kicked puppy. she’s usually angry, cold, and walks around with an “i don’t care” attitude. yet here she was, wondering what it was that she did that make you talk to her that way.

you lead *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ to an empty classroom. after she walks in you shut the door behind you. “sit. we’re going to talk and you will explain yourself. i don’t care if you want to or you “don’t care”, but we’re not leaving this room until you say something.”

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ does as you say. she sits down, and waits for you to speak, which is a first for you. you look at *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. the sight of her makes you sick and angry to your core, but you wanted answers, no matter how rough the situation might go.

you may want answers from her, but after all, she’s a bully. you two are alone, and if she wanted to, she could beat you up and leave you the classroom in pain. you think about how to go about it without making something wild like that a possibility. you begin to tear up. all the emotions you’ve been holding back begin to crumble. your walls are beginning to break, and the reality of the situation finally hits you. the woman in front of you purposefully bullied and targeted friends and people you knew, and for what? a bouquet of roses? a necklace?

you don’t say anything at first, but eventually you feel your eyes water, which turns into tears running down your cheeks. you may look like a crybaby right now, but you don’t dare to wipe them. you want *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ to know exactly how much pain and heartbreak she has caused you.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s heart breaks at the sight of your tears. she’s never wanted to cause you this much pain. the fact that your crying over her actions makes her want to take her anger out on someone. she made you cry, which makes her feel like an ass. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ may act like a bully and that she doesn’t care about anyone or anything, but the sight of you crying is making her feel something she hasn’t felt in a long time:

guilt.

she doesn’t say anything, but looks bewildered when you say something. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ lifts her head up, asking for you to repeat yourself.

“i said, why.” a sob comes out of your throat, but quickly switches to anger. “WHY. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU THAT HAS MADE YOU LIKE THIS.” you shout. “WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU THAT HAS MADE YOU TARGET ME.”

it was the first time *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ has seen you show an ounce of actual emotion. the question catches her off guard, and all she can do is muster out a “what?”

“stop acting dumb.” you sneer. “everyday when i come to school you’re right in my face, picking on what i’m wearing. when it’s lunchtime, you purposely drag me to your table, even when you know i don’t want anything to do with you or your other delinquent friends. you then target my friends and bully them, for what? a gift? and you think that a twenty dollar bouquet of roses and a necklace will make up for everything you’ve done?”

“w-what? no! that’s not why i did it.” *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ banters, or at least tries to. “you have it all wrong. please, let me explain.” *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ gives you a pleading look, and the only thing you can do is agree in response.

“fine. that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? explain yourself.”

“okay. it was like that in the beginning. i did hate you. i hated the fact that you acted so nice, even when people gave you a look that meant that they hated you, and i know you could see it too. i hated how you smiled to everyone. i hated how you had a calming vibe and for once in my life, you were a person that didn’t make me immediately hate them. while i was hating you, i didn’t realized that i loved you, and because i didn’t understand that feeling, i took it out on you.”

by now, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ is on the verge of tears herself. “stop crying. you have no reason to cry. you were purposely rude just because you could be.” the look you gave *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ was full of disgust and shame. instead of acting like she didn’t care, she switches up, grabbing your wrist desperately. “please! i’m sorry! please, give me a chance! i know you don’t believe me but at least let me at least prove it to you.”

before you could say something to combat her, she shoves the roses in your hands. “please, give me a chance to prove to you that i don’t actually hate you. i want to let you know that i’m truly sorry.” before you can say anything, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ gives you a peck on the cheek and walks out of the classroom.

at first you didn’t believe her, but *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ kept true to her word. she’s a delinquent after all, so when it came to your friends, she could care less. but with you? *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ changed up her whole act. it began with her giving you a small smile before you walked through the door. she would look at you lovingly if you walked past her.

as for the gifts, she brought you one each day. the first day, it was a pair of earrings from a store you liked. the second day, it was a coat from a store you were window shopping at. each day it was something you longed for, or it was something little that showed you that she was paying attention to you.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ has become desperate. she had been bringing you gifts, smiling at you, and even staring at you. she was beginning to think it didn’t work until you grabbed her hand, leading her towards the classroom you took her to two weeks prior.

“I don’t forgive you, at all. what you did has hurt me, angered me, and irritated me. you still have a lot to make up for if you want me to forgive you.”

“i understand.” *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ says. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that means that you’ll forgive me.”

you stand on your tippy toes, reaching towards *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s lips, giving her a kiss. “thank you for the gifts. i appreciated them.”

you look away shyly before pulling away, or at least try to. before you can pull away, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ grabs your arm harshly, smashing her lips onto yours. she grabs your waist, pulling you as close to her as you physically can. she grabs your arms and puts them on her neck, kissing your jaw and your cheeks before going back to your lips, kissing them once more. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ rubs the sides of your waist, asking to put her tongue inside your mouth.

you grant it, and for what seems like forever, the two of you have a make-out session that makes it feel like you two are in your own world. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ moves forward, almost demanding more. your tongues move in a frenzy, and while you hate to admit it, you’re enjoying the kiss yourself. you rake your hands through *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s hair, which makes her moan into the kiss.

your let go to break for air and stare at *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. you look at her before she grabs you in her arms, hugging you like a lover. “don’t worry. i’ll make it where you’ll see my actions and immediately know it’s love instead of doubt.”

“i’ll know it when i see it.” you scoff. outside, there was someone that saw your make-out session. you didn’t see it, but *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ surely did. she looked at that person with a haunting look in her eyes, almost daring them to try and fuck with her.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ was happy that you accepted her. you may not have accepted her fully, but it was a start. maybe you should’ve went with your instincts and removed her from your life forever. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ had just gotten a taste of you, and she was already addicted. now that she had you in her arms, she was never letting go.

you were hers.

forever.

*✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:

*✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*

this idea was made and created by @moniibu. all rights reserved to @moniibu, and you are NOT allowed to steal, copy, or translate this work.

January 2024.

[fujii-draws]

Hi I just wanted to say that I love Ribbons and Aimilios so much, they're so cute and sweet!!!

May I make a humble request for Ribbons and Amilios fluff,,,

I must know these dweebs are happy and would love to hear how they eventually fell for eachother!!!

AAA!! I’ve thought about this ask so much. And I’m happy to finally deliver!!!

——————

Ironically enough, Ribbons and Aimilios didn’t start out as ‘great friends’ from the jump.

Unlike main game. After Aimilios convinces her to join Wigglytuff’s guild on a whim, their relationship is… well.

Firstly, Aimilios tends to get slightly annoyed by Ribbon’s lack of preparation. Laziness. And hasty behavior. Feeling like she isn’t taking his dream as seriously as he thought she would.

And Ribbons— doesn’t like Aimilios for his stick-in-the-butt, teacher’s pet attitude. And how he never trusts her with things like the treasure bag/map. Constantly putting the load on himself, leaving her with nothing to do.

They still are on good terms! They do enjoy certain aspects of eachother! It’s just that they also dislike other aspects of their partner. Which; results in Ribbon’s teasing of the Riolu. (Playing ‘keep-away’, hiding certain items to get on his nerves.) Which was in good fun in hopes to lighten him up more. That isn’t to say it wasn’t mean-spirited at times.

And Aimilios in turn; rats on her whenever she becomes too troublesome to deal with. His clean-freak nature also causes him to misplace a lot of her items— (Which, Ribbons looked almost ready to bite Aimilios when her brown Patsy bow went missing.)(Until he told her where he put it, deciding to nip him another day.) And in-general their relationship starts on a rocky start. And why they fail so many jobs in the beginning due to their lack of coordination and teamwork.

They like eachother enough to work together… but not to see eye-to-eye. Aimilios starts to wonder if asking Ribbons to join him was a mistake… and that her heroism at Beach Cave was a major fluke.

…until Drowzee kidnaps Azurill.

Aimilios was Frozen when confronted with the hypnosis Pokémon. An outlaw? And not only that— a Psychic type? The Riolu was nothing short of terrified. That is, until Ribbons piped up. Barking towards the criminal with not a single drop of fear in her voice. This, in turn give the Aura Pokémon the confidence to fight back aswell.

(…This is also When their first really positive interaction happens, Aimilios being the one to reciprocate Ribbons joking-tendency with a jab of his own. Stating how starving she must be for her stomach to growl like an Ursaring. Till his stomach does aswell, making both young Pokémon’s laugh.) (And later that night when they’re in their haybeds, he whispers how brave/cool she was today.)

(Which makes Ribbons face light up, before trying to play it off like ‘Yeah that’s cool.’ Until her tail betrays her—giving away how happy that compliment made her. Just from the sheer velocity alone.) (She tells Aimilios to shut up when he laughs at the endearing display.)

After that… they start to trust eachother a little more. Aimilios shares more items with her. Lets her lead more Job Requests, snitching on her less. Actually even aiding her in mischievous/morally questionable activities, like steal A/S Rank jobs.

Chatot is super strict about what Jobs they take as junior Explorers—Aimilios only agreeing because he wants to prove himself. He feels the rush of adrenaline when they escape the Guild with their newfound jobs, Ribbons patting him on the back and ‘welcoming him to the dark side’.

“If Chatot catches us, we’ll never hear the end of it.” The breathless riolu stated. Looking over to his partner, who had a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Then we won’t get caught.” Ribbons responded with confidence. Playfully placing her paw on his snout.

“Cmooon—That birdbrain won’t know what hit him! As long as you don’t tattle!~”

“…You’re a horrible influence.” The Riolu huffed out, smiling despite his backhanded comment.

On the flip side, Ribbons stops stealing items away from the Aura Pokémon as much like she used to. (She’s still teasing the ballocks out of him. Only difference being that she knows when to stop when it actually starts to upset him.) (The Riolu is still sticking his tongue out in retribution to the Eevee’s crimes. >:<.) (She blows a raspberry back >:3)

And… they start to notice certain things they really like about the other.

Ribbons loves how intelligent Aimilios is. The reason she was so butthurt towards him the first time…was because she was jealous. He was clearly the brains of their little rag-tag duo. She still doesn’t know why Aimilios chose her as his partner. He could do so much better. She also adores how he’s able to be gutless and quick-witted despite his fears. In Ribbons eyes—That’s bravery. Not the dumb, ‘Fuck-it-we-Ball’ mentality she has.

Something else she likes but can’t wrap her head around with the type of Pokémon they meet, is his kindness. She doesn’t know how he does it. Or why he’s able to tolerate so many of their clients. Ribbons… also views that as another strength he had, but she lacked— Arcues knows how short-tempered the Eevee was. And certain Pokémon began to take advantage of Aimilios . Which makes Ribbons extremely protective of him—standing protectively infront of the riolu during fights despite her size. (Around this time; Team skull.) She hates those punks so much. Ohhh do they make her blood boil.

She feels her heart twisting into knots when she sees Aimilios lost all sparkle in his eye. Only dejectedly laying on his haybed with sunken pupils as he lost the opportunity to join the expedition. The Eevee secretly wishes him a goodnight, brushing his fur with her tounge. Before returning to her bed. Praying that he’ll get picked—even if it meant giving up her spot if she got in.

And Aimilios… hoo boy.

Much like in-game, he’s enamored by how fearless she is. How she’s able to speak her mind to the largest and strongest of Pokémon. (You should’ve seen his face when she insulted The Great Dusknoir straight to his face.) He draws a ton of strength from her. He wouldn’t even be accomplishing his dream if it wasn’t for her.

Something else he loves about her… is her jokes. She has some of the most cornball humor to grace the Grass-continents. You can hear the entire guild groaning whenever she makes one.

So imagine to Ribbon’s surprise when she turns to face her Riolu partner one day— covering his mouth with his paws with tears in his eyes. Trying so desperately not to laugh. (She makes it her mission to make his ass laugh and admit to her face that she’s funny.)(It’s an on-going gag even after evolution.) And overall just how infectious her silly, carefree attitude is.

(She’s also the reason why he stops being so much of a people-pleaser. Aimilios didn’t notice it at first, but squabbling and being frustrated with her at times in the beginning… it helped him grow a bit of a spine.)

And that’s when the seeds of their friendship and other feelings begin to sprout.

During their first Expedition with Bidoof, Ribbons sees first hand just how much Aimilios is growing— taking more of the lead and being in charge. Not because he doesn’t trust her— but because he’s gaining confidence for himself. (Her cheeks do not become tinted with pink when she witnesses this.)

And when Aimilios is mere moments away from fleeing from the Groudon-illusion. He sees Ribbons start to grin. Exclaiming how she’s been itching for a real fight. (Which also doesn’t make him fluster up like a Red Gummi. Nope. Natta.)(That’s his hubris-filled maniac and no one else’s.)

And… they mutually get flustered watching the Volbeat Geyser. Aimilios exclaiming just how beautiful it is while Ribbon’s eyes lock on him—Before she laying her head on his shoulder. Making the startled Riolu look her way. Before carefully closing the distance, wrapping his arm around her.

(The guild members absolutely tease those two mercilessly for that display when trecking back to the Guild, and a few more days afterwards.) (Aimilios covers his face in embarrassment while Ribbons tells them to screw off.)

After the expedition to Fogbound Lake— their teamwork and rapport improve drastically. Being able to take on a number of jobs like that hadn’t before. Thanks to their newfound coordination and ability to be on the same wavelength. Complimenting eachother on a job well done.

They do little gestures for eachother to show the other how much they care. (Aimilios helps organize her Treasure bag with permission. Studying Unown runes/Gatekeeping duty. Patching her up from bad jobs.) (Very adamant about the last one.) (Scolding her for barely taking care of herself. Not noticing her staring at him adoringly.)

While Ribbons tends to spare him from particularly mean jokes. Getting actively frustrated towards Pokémon who treat Aimilios slightly wrong. Grooming him with her tongue during nights at the Guild. (He’s so focused on guild work that he forgets to take care of himself.)

The flaws they once detested about the other become things they now love about one another.

Ribbon’s laziness evolves into her teaching Aimilios to relax. Aimilios’s judgmental views are now more worrisome things he notices; asking Ribbons to exercise caution whenever she takes a job alone.

Ribbons listens to the riolu go on and on about a certain book he’s reading with stars in his eyes, gazing softly towards the aura pup. Aimilios listens to all of her bad jokes, barely stifling his laughter around her.

Aimilios watching lovingly at her ability to make connections with other Pokémon effortlessly, even with how dumb she feels.(He wishes he wouldn’t call herself such things.) While Ribbons loves just how intellectual he is, not minding his trouble with looking Pokémon in the eye.

They enjoy eachothers company so much. Becoming nearly nigh inseparable. Going from two, squabbling kids. To being attached to the other’s hip. Substituting for their partner’s weaknesses with their strength. Almost in a Yin-Yang fashion. (Opposites attract afterall ;3)They become co-dependent. (Which is very much a flaw… but it’s the one they never grow out of.)

And After that…! Aimilios is the first one the catch feelings! Mainly bc Ribbons is denser than the Relic Fragment tied around the Aura Pokémon’s neck. Wondering if some divine intervention was punishing him. That and Ribbons just thought she saw Aimilios as a really good friend as the explanation for why she felt fuzzy around him. (I’m not joking.)(You underestimate her singular braincell.)

The aura pup goes to Dusknoir for advice. Trying to be as VAUGE as possible towards the ghost-type when referring to certain ‘Pokémon A’ that ‘Pokémon B’ (which is NOT Aimilios.) would like to get to know better.

Dusknoir immediately catches on, finding this literal case of ‘puppy love’ to be endearing. (And absolutely entertaining.)(He promises to not tell a soul, with Aimilios responding ‘I-I didn’t mean anything by it!! Why are you swearing secrecy on something totally not connected to me—!’)

Although Ribbons is oblivious— her watching Aimilios nearly get murdered by Grovyle made her feel upset. Really upset. Watching him barely breathe while Dusknoir carried the two of them… Ribbons with the last on her strength crawled over to him (Much to the wraith’s dismay, imploring her to not hurt herself.) …Before she curls into him, sniffling a little.

No one else but Dusknoir is able to detach the tearful Eevee from her partner. The cloaked specter only having done so to make sure the Riolu was healed and patched up properly. (That didn’t stop the Eevee from crying out for her partner in her sleep.)(…The ghost-type gently brings the Riolu to her haybed—Ribbons immediately curling into and purring.)

And then they’re dragged into the Paralyzed future. Where their friendship is heavily tested.

The two don’t say anything at first, but hold slight resentment towards one another, mainly towards Ribbons not using her D.Scream, and Aimilios not using his aura sensing/sharing so much information with that damned ghost.

So when looking at the stockade lights, an argument breaks out. Just a screaming match between two terrified kids that want nothing more than to escape the hell they’ve been forced into.

They go back and forth, back and forth on who’s to blame. Until Aimilios’s angry screams slowly transform into uncontrollable sobs. Telling Ribbons that she was right and it was his fault. Ribbon’s heart nearly shatters as she watches Aimilios fall to the ground holding himself.

She immediately rushes to now, sobbing riolu. Telling Aimilios that she was being stupid and she only snapped in anger— begging for him to stop crying. Because if he does, then sh-she’ll…

She pulls him into a hug. Aimilios clings onto her like his life depended on it— with the Eevee embracing her partner so tightly. Muttering apologies like a broken record. The scene goes about the same, the only other change being how Ribbons looks back towards the way they ran from. Staring at the abyss-like cavern in fear of the ghost-type pursuing them. (She shakes it off. She can’t afford to be scared. She has to be strong. For him.)

So Ribbons continues to protect Aimilios during their run from the revenant they trusted. Constantly picking him up, getting infront of him to take hits during dungeons, etc. and it helps Aimilios… continuing to draw strength from his partner. (Even when he’s begging her to stop nearly getting herself maimed in the dungeon. Which falls on deaf ears; Both Pokémon exchanging somewhat bitter glances.)

So how hilarious is it when Aimilios watches Ribbon’s back away in fear for the first time. Being completely frozen just like the time in the future. Unable to retort anything Dusknoir said. Being reduced to tears. Her ears pinning back as her pupils dilated to cat-slits. Breathing heavily as the open clearing spun from vertigo.

Oh how hysterical! Oh how simply entertaining it was to the ghost-type!!

But Aimilios wasn’t laughing.

Not one bit.

He gets infront of his now, trembling Eevee partner; angrily baring his fangs about how they weren’t Dusknoir’s puppets— before yelling loud enough that his scream emenanted an aura. An Aura large enough that made Dusknoir flinch, and even Primal Dialga react—squinting annoyedly towards the pup.

(If Aimilios took a quick glimpse from behind—he would’ve seen a glossy-eyed Eevee, staring up at him in complete awe.)

That same night when they returned to the present— Ribbon’s had a nightmare about Dusknoir. Waking up in a cold sweat as a voice called out so desperately for her. She opens her eyes, only to be greeted with a very worried-looking Riolu.

She takes a moment to process why Aimilios looked so worried, before it all came back to her, every horrible word she spouted towards her precious partner. And how he was still trying to see if she was okay after everything she said. Ribbons cries her heart out—Aimilios now being the one to hold his tearful partner.

When she’s finally shed her tears… the Riolu offers to let her sleep in his haybed for the night. Ribbons hesitates, before nodding silently. Not wanting to use her voice in fear of blubbering again.

Sharing the haybed was a good idea from the way Ribbon’s clung to Aimilios— almost immediately sleeping in the comfort and safety of her partner’s arms. While Aimilios is looking at her… it hits him all at once. How small she is. How fragile she is. Even with how brave the sleeping fox was. He saw her terrified for the first time.

Just how many times did she help him? How many nights had Ribbons listened to him. Comforted him. Gave him confidence. And exactly how many times did he repay the favor…?

This epiphany only makes the Riolu hold onto the frail Eevee even tighter.

Ribbons senses this change when she feels Aimilios is the one starting to take as many hits and she does for him. Confidently asking to lead the party at times as to make the load easier on her. And… it nearly clicks. Ribbons nearly figures out her weird, fuzzy emotions. But keeps suppressing them; save the world first— then weird butterflies in tummy!

And it’s When Ribbons is disappearing— it’s in that moment she finally realizes her feelings towards the aura pup. But…

Rather than making the grand gesture of revealing how she truly felt— she bites her tongue. Hard. Was she really going to make her goodbye even harder on Aimilios? After what she pulled? After lying to him?

…even after she returns. She never tells him. In Ribbons eye’s? She lost her opportunity the second she hurt Aimilios. So much. with her stupid sacrifice. With her stupid words towards the stressed pup in the future. Not feeling worthy of being anything more with the Riolu out of guilt.

(That, plus Future Trio returning adds a bunch more to their plate before they can figure it out.)

Speaking of Which, they act as wing-Pokémon for the two, the three older mons almost playing a game of Cupid with Ribbons and Aimilios. (With Ribbons gaining help from the two grass-types, and Aimilios from the ghost.)(Those three see how much those two are holding back from one another and by the legends they are going to help these kids.)

It takes an absurd amount of time. But…

Ironically enough? The one who’s braver enough to take the first step… is Aimilios.

He asks Ribbons to walk with him towards the Beach, the same one where their journey began. Aimilios also no-so-subtly waited to make his confession when the Krabby blew bubbles. (Ribbons stares at him knowingly and smugly.)(He tells her to ‘B-be quiet—!’ and listen to what he has to say.)

And it’s just… the most corniest love confession. Everything about it. The setting. The bubbles… it’s so overly cheesy and sentimental. Just like Aimilios.

And Ribbons feels her smile faltering more and more when he goes on— before she starts crying unexpectedly. Aimilios asks what’s wrong— hoping for them to be happy tears rather than sad ones. And unfortunately; It’s the latter.

Ribbons tells Aimilios to not waste his time on her. To find someone better—someone who won’t hurt him. She spills her guts about why she was so hesitant to confess for so long.

“…You’re afraid.”

“E-eh..?! I-I mean…” Ribbons looks away, her tail coyly rubbing the side of her shoulder. “I guess…”

“T-then don’t be..!” The Riolu declared— hovering his fists infront of his chest. “I-I want you to be brave..! Be—“

“The bravest ever.” It was astonishing how the two Pokémon read eachother’s mind— finishing the sentence Aimilios begun in unison.

After that I have a little animatic idea in the tune of ‘Best Worst Mistake’ with those two. Which near the end of it… ends with the Aura Pokémon picking up Ribbons and spinning her— to then connect foreheads.

Only for a cyan light to wrap around the two Pokémon… what emerges from it, being a Sylveon and Lucario.

Seeing themselves evolve at the same time… they laugh with tears in their eyes. Ribbons tackles the hell out of Aimilios as their limbs are entangled on the same beach they met. Tails wildly wagging as they embrace eachother. Not minding the sand getting stuck to their fur.

…Future Trio is witnessing all of this happen in real time. With Celebi nearly chuckling as she watches the grass and ghost-types be on the verge of tears.

The two Pokémon go to the trio hours later— telling them how it’s official. Grovyle puts his hands in the Sylveon’s shoulder’s—kneeling as he exclaims just how proud he is. On the other side of the bluff— Dusknoir is telling Aimilios the same thing— cupping the Lucario’s face in near tears. Bellowing out just how far the Lucario has come. (Ribbons and Aimilios Are NOT choked up by their gestures. They both have leftover sand in their eyes. That’s why they’re crying.)

Their relationship is still relatively the same. Ribbons being the same, playful and gutsy girl she is. Playing harmless pranks on her partner. Being overly protective of him, etc. While Aimilios remains the clever pup that he is. Letting Ribbons gnaw on him arm whenever she gets bite-y, keeping track of their shared items. Cleaning her matted tail and adding Garcedia flowers from Shaymin peak… That isn’t to say that their relationship is perfect— still finding themselves hitting bumps along the road and arguing. The main difference being that they’re more mature— and aren’t kids anymore. (It’s us vs the problem, not me vs you) type growth. (Even if it takes awhile to get there with the Lucario’s self-loathing issues.)

That being said, Ribbons loves PDA w/ Aimilios. Even when the poor Lucario flusters. (She stops when he’s about to turn as red as a Cherri Berry.)(That isn’t to say he’s being spared when they return to the bluff >:3)

Yet ironically enough, whenever they’re behind closed doors; it’s the reverse with Aimilios flustering her right back. He’s been able to do so at the start of Post-Game—The only difference being that he’s gotten much more consistent in finding the Sylveon’s weak points. (Ribbons hates him for it.)(How dare he use her own powers against her. She isn’t supposed to be the blubbering mess.)

(Also they begin to share their haybed in the beginning of post-game—Constantly waking the other up to protect them from their nightmare lest they have one.)(They never separated it since.)(…Well okay maybe ONE TIME but THATS FOR ANOTHER DAY >:3)

[Tl;dr: They squabble and get annoyed by eachother. Before they become overly codependent/protective of the other. A silly, unkept, mischievous Eevee/Sylveon—with her stressed-out, lanky, goody-two shoes Riolu/Lucario partner.]

(+ some old art I never shared for y’all’s troubles)

[shiftingconfessions]

A lot of these new shifters who came from TikTok and Amino are lying. Not because their stories are unrealistic—they are realistic—but it's because Amino was coded the same way. In 2021, everyone got exposed for lying, and now on TikTok, they're admitting they're lying for attention. Now, shifting is real; I have been doing it since 2019, but be careful who you're following and who you're listening to. A lot of these new shifters who ran away from TikTok because it's crumbling are just Wattpad writers or having a false attempt at living "in the end" in hopes that helps them shift. And then, others are just having lucid dreams or false awakenings and calling it a day. Please do your own research; shifting is very real. Stick to the old shifters on here—I can think of 3—not anyone who came during 2024. The quality of shift Tumblr is becoming juvenile, which is sad because it's been one of the best communities thus far. Take from the OG and please dip so you don't slow down your own journey. This has happened on every platform, unfortunately, but the people engrossed in drama are lying and attention-seeking.

The stories that literally sound like they're Wattpad-coded or just make no sense to the foundation of shifting are lying; the questionable memories are lucid dreams or a hypnagogic state. Again, shifting is REAL, the law is REAL, manifesting is real, but a lot of people are uneducated and literally want to spread misinformation and lies for shits and giggles, and it's embarrassing. Keep it on Amino and TikTok—you know who I am talking about. m unfortunately but the people engrossed in drama are lying and attention seeker, the stories that literally sound like they’re wattpadd coded or just make no sense to the foundation of shifting or lying, the questionable memories are lucid dreams or hypnagogic state. Again shift is REAL the law is REAL manifesting is real but a lot of people are uneducated and literally want to spread the misinformation and lies for shits and giggles and it’s embarrassing keep it on amino and tik tok you know who I am talking about

As someone who shifts often and meets with other wise shifters across realities , here are some tips:

1. **Stick to the Law**: The law of assumption will not fail you and is always in operation. Learn about it.

2. **Avoid Useless Debates**: Stop engaging in meaningless debates; this isn't drama club. Those involved in such debates likely aren't shifting—they're like crabs in a bucket.

3. **Embrace Lucid Dreams**: Lucid dreams can be your best friend. You sleep for a third of your life, so use it to your benefit!

4. **Believe It's Possible**: Yes, you can shift without trying, but most won't achieve this because you can't do something you don't believe to be true. Don't lie to yourself; honesty is key to progress. It’s okay to want techniques and use them, it’s okay to be lazy sometimes but some of you guys are being lazy without the assumption that will aid you so it will not work!! Shifting is worth it but some work in it’s okay…

5. **Don't Let Doubts Hold You Back**: Understand that your doubts can't stop you. Don't attach yourself to them.

6.Use Methods That Fulfill You: Stop copying others. There are no rules to shifting, which is why it works differently for everyone. Just because a method worked for someone else doesn't mean it will work for you in the same way.

7. **Feeling Is the Secret**: Your emotions and feelings play a crucial role in shifting.

8. **Have Faith in Yourself**: If you doubt everything else, at least have faith in yourself. Shifting is a part of you and is within you.

Good luck, and research wisely! Shifting is very real it’s so amazing guys. Please don’t scroll too much on this app anymore the quality has gone to shit in the last week or two and it will get worse.. don’t make the same mistakes everyone did in 2020!!!! You all can do it even the people currently lying (and it’s very obvious pls log off lol) they can do it too :)! To infinity and beyond my friends ☯️

.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Closing Time

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Bartender!Reader

Rating: Mature

Notes: Not beta-read, cause when is it ever. Just a little oneshot, set pre-show

No physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Warnings: Cursing, flirty Rhett, drunk Rhett

Summary: “You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. 

“S’that supposed to mean?” 

“You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.” 

You knock on the bar twice, catching Rhett's hazy eye and raising a brow. 

“You good?” 

“Fine.” It’s a near-slurred mumble, chased by the delayed glance toward a woman you’d seen him talking to half an hour ago. There are so few people left in the bar, it's hard to miss her. Now, she’s on the arm of one of the Tillerson’s—you’re too lazy to get a better look at which one. You’re already dreading whichever one might come over to pay the tab, if they bother to pay the tab tonight. You’ve been working long enough to know not to chase the Tillersons out the door when they haven’t. Luke typically turns up some time around opening the next day, asking what they owe with a smarmy smile, dropping a thick stack of bills on the countertop to cover it, and telling you to keep the change, sweet thing. 

You lean back against the counter, eyeing the few other patrons, waving at the few that have already paid and are on their way out. You glance toward Rhett again, toward where he’s trailing his finger along the side of his half-full beer. He looks back as the TIllerson’s explode in laughter. They rise from their table, trailing toward the door. 

“‘Ey,” Rhett mumbles it at first, so softly that you hardly realize he’s spoken. He tries it again, louder, as the Tillerson's breeze outside. 

“Hey!” He yells, rising so quickly that he sends the stool tumbling to the ground. 

“Dude!” You hiss. 

“You didn’t pay!” He’s still yelling after them, as if they’re not already gone. You lean over the bar and reach out, whacking him in the bicep with the rag you use to clean the counter top. It seems to snap him out of it, and he glances between you and the door, pointing after them. “They didn’t pay!” 

“Thank you for the update, Columbo. Would you sit back down?” 

You reach out, taking up his unfinished beer and dumping it out. 

“I wasn’t done with that—” 

“You’re done with it now. Sit down and gimme your phone.” 

Rhett seems to take a moment to process what you've said. Then he takes your orders one after another, reaching down and taking up the stool and righting it before sitting. He fishes into his pocket, drawing his phone out and passing it over. You eye the cracked screen before you hold it up to him. 

“Open it.” 

He hesitates, gaze flickering to you before he does as he’s told again. You bring the phone back, finding Perry’s number and raising it to your ear. 

“Rhett?” The question is croaked out after two rings, “What are you doin’, callin’ now?” 

“Come get your brother.” 

“...Aw, hell,” Perry mutters. The sound is in and out; you’re almost certain he's scrubbing his hand over his face. “Alright. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

“Fuckin’ better. I've gotta close here.” 

You don’t wait for his answer, you just hang up and toss Rhett’s phone onto the counter in front of him. You catch a glimpse of his hangdog expression as you turn away from him, taking up a coffee mug and filling it before turning back to him. 

“Take your time with it,” You warn as you set it down. “It’s hot.” 

“...They didn’t pay.” 

“I know. They’ll come back in the morning.” 

“That so?” 

“Trust me. This isn’t the first time.” 

“They get away with all that shit.” 

“They’re not getting away with anything," You fib. "If you left without paying, I’m sure you’d be back in the morning, too.” You walk over to the counter, popping the register open and beginning to count the till out. Otherwise empty, the bar has settled into quiet, save for the murmur of music over the speakers, and the odd thud of Rhett’s coffee mug being set back down on the counter. You glance over at him, weighing your options, watching him smooth his hand over his hair, the brace on his wrist nearly obscuring his face as he reaches up. You turn back to the bills, counting through them. 

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. 

“S’that supposed to mean?” 

“You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.” 

“How’d you know I got a bad bull?”

“Heard people talking.” 

“I wasn’t trying to fight Luke.” 

“Oh, please,” You chuckle. “Don’t pretend you were trying to protect the integrity of the business.” 

“They act like they own everything in this damn town.” 

You won’t argue with that. He’s not wrong—but it’s also not something that you’re willing to combat. They’re assholes, but they’re assholes that tip. 

“Keep drinking your coffee,” You advise. “Your ma’ll have my head if you’re drunk as a skunk when you get in.” 

“She won’t,” Rhett chuckles. “She loves you. ‘Sides, I did this myself.” 

“I should’ve cut you off two beers ago.” 

“I ain’t that bad.” 

“Not all that good, either. Speaking of which, if you’re gonna toss, aim for a trash can.” 

“I’m not gonna be sick.” 

“You sure?” 

“Trust me.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I been worse than this.” 

“Well, that I know.” 

“You’re really makin’ me feel better.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I’m not here to make you feel better, Abbott. This isn’t Cheers, despite the fact that you chose to go somewhere everybody knows your name.” 

“Can’t go anywhere in Amelia County without someone knowing my name.” 

“Well hey, big guy, my apologies.”

“That ain’t what I mean,” Rhett chuckles. Then he perks up, patting his hands on the counter. “What can I do?”

“What?” You frown, glancing up from the stack of twenties.

“Put me to work. What can I do?” 

“Seriously?” 

“I’ll just be sitting here til Perry comes an’ gets me. C’mon.” 

You hesitate before you nod toward the flap. 

“Grab the clorox spray and wipe down the tables if you really wanna help.” 

Rhett stands, rounding the counter and lifting the flap to get behind the bar. He ducks down, eyeing the shelf that you pointed to before he grabs the spray and the rag. You arch a brow, watching him round to the end of the bar, starting with the furthest tables. Maybe he’s trying to get out of trouble with you. Maybe he thinks if he helps out, you won’t mention this to his mama. Hell, you’re not planning on mentioning it to her, anyway, but you’ll take all the help you can get. 

“If you throw up, you’re cleaning it up,” You warn. 

“Told you,” He calls back. “I’m not gonna be sick.” 

You grunt, filling out the closing sheet before tucking the cash into the envelope. You find yourself tucking it into the back of your jeans, drawing your shirt down over it. You trust Rhett, sure, but if someone comes in when you’re cleaning up and it’s just laying around, and that sleeve comes up missing, your ass is on the chopping block. 

You look over to find Rhett studiously scrubbing the bar. You can’t help but smile a little. That hangdog look seems to have vanished. You can’t help but wonder what’s done it. Maybe his head is clearing up; maybe it’s because he’s helping you out, making himself useful. 

“You gimme a minute, we can start putting up the chairs,” You offer. 

“I can do it.”

“It’ll go faster with two.” You shut the drawer, locking it before you round the counter. You reach out, taking the rag and spray from him. “You feeling better?”  

“Yeah,” He admits. “Think I just needed to move around a bit. Coffee helped.” 

“Good.” You glance toward the clock. “Perry should be here soon.” 

Rhett nods, picking up his coffee and taking a swig. 

“Want some more?” You ask, nodding toward the mug.

“Uh…” He frowns, tipping the mug toward himself. “If there is more, yeah. Please.” 

You nod, taking up the coffee pot. “Polite as always, Abbott.” 

“Not always.” 

“I suspect you can be damn polite when you wanna be, so long as I’m not a Tillerson.” 

“Alright, let up,” He grumbles, drawing his mug back as you empty the coffee pot and set it down again. You smile as he nods back. “Are we stackin’ chairs?” 

“In a minute. Drink your coffee.”

“You always been this bossy?” 

“Yes.” 

“How’d I never realize?” 

“Probably too distracted by cute girls and the Tillerson’s to notice.” 

“Jealous, honey?” 

The accusation sends heat skittering up your neck. You force an eye roll, turning away and straightening up. 

“Alright, cap it and help me stack some fucking chairs,” You grumble, skirting out from behind the bar. 

“That a yes?” Rhett trails after you like a puppy; even with your back to him, you can practically hear his dopey smile. It makes that heat creep up just a little higher. You reach down, forcing your mind to the task at hand, and away from Rhett’s fastidious and curious gazes. 

“S’alright, you can tell me. If you’d told me sooner, I might’a done something about it,” Rhett adds. You glance over toward him, watching him lift a chair and set it on the table. 

“Is that right?” You ask dryly. 

“Sure. Always thought you were pretty.” 

“Were?” You lean into it, ready to brush off the flirting, “The bloom’s already off the rose?” 

You set a chair onto the table, and before you can get any further, you feel the warmth of him behind you. He raises his hands, bracketing you in and grasping the legs of the chair that you’ve set on the table. Your heart ticks up in your chest as you keep your gaze set forward. 

“You see all those other chairs, Abbott?” You ask lightly. Rhett is quiet for a moment, stepping closer, lips brushing against your temple. 

“I don’t see anything else in here but you, sugar.” 

You push back the warmth that his murmur wells up in favor of nudging him aside with a laugh of, “Oh, that’s good.” You walk to the next table, stalwartly keeping your gaze from his as you begin to put up more chairs. You glance back to find Rhett leaning dejectedly against the table, and you sigh softly. 

“Don’t do that,” You grumble. 

“What?” 

“Pout.” 

“I struck out twice.” 

“You only struck out once.” 

“What do you call this?” Rhett asks, waving his finger between the two of you. You rest a hand on the table, cocking your hip. 

“This," You mimic his gesture, "Was never gonna happen. No offense, Abbott, but I don’t fuck drunk patrons.” 

“What about sober ones?” 

“You aren’t sober, Rhett.” 

“Not right now, but…” 

You raise your brows as Rhett lets it hang in the air. You consider for a moment before you shrug a little. You may as well throw the guy a bone—especially since you mean it, a little.

“Maybe,” You concede, “But bat those pretty lashes all you want, it ain’t happening tonight.” 

Your stomach flips as Rhett’s lips pull into a teasing little smile. “You think my lashes are pretty?” 

You laugh again, shaking your head and turning away from him. 

“Put up the damn chairs, Abbott.” 

[doodlegirl1998]

ngl im a mineta defender until the end, now before you jump me let me explain

his behavior is obvi disgusting (lets also not ignore the fact that hori has said hes his self insert) BUT IT IS EXTREMELY EASY TO FIX!

a lot of kids and teens who have similar behaviors often have parents with the same beliefs. not to say that this is always the case but it’s more common than not

which means that they’re raised not knowing that their behavior is wrong. they see it as acceptable, and not only that, but *expected* of them

it is an extremely easy thing to rectify. of course sometimes it’s harder depending on how much the behavior has been ingrained into them, but at the end of the day it is *fixable*

he was failed by his parents for encouraging his behavior and he was failed by other adults/teachers for letting it continue

also it’s not that much of a stretch to say that he was probably heavily bullied. he has a very prominent lisp, he’s a heteromorph, and he’s extremely short. i’ve seen several ppl who hc that he has dwarfism and i definitely agree with that

aizawa doesn’t seem to give a shit because he never takes any action to try and discipline him for how he acts

also im sick of the shinso replacing mineta fics. the only good thing abt shinso replacing aoyama is that ppl don’t have an excuse to replace him.

like for the love of god it’s not that hard to simply change his character. it annoys me to no end. bc i like mineta a lot! his quirk is interesting and he has a lot of potential as a character but he’s reduced to a creepy pervert bc every shonen anime needs to have at least one 🙄

tl;dr stop bashing mineta and start bashing hori

Hi @the-jello-bowl 👋

Stop bashing Mineta and start bashing Hori... hmm. You know what? That's a sentiment I could get behind.

After all, the ultimate problem with Mineta lies in his writing.

At the start of the series, Hori wrote him too perverted with too little of any other redeeming or sympathetic quality. That impression stuck - so a lot of fans want him out of heroism and out of 1A.

This is fair because Mineta's behaviour is triggering for many people, and he could make a dangerous figure as a hero and an adult if left unchecked and if his perversions worsen.

While I understand why, Shinsou replacing Mineta is a lazy way to do take Mineta out of 1A, since Shinsou canonically hasn't shown he deserves to be in the hero class nor shown to have good interactions with 1A as a collective.

While it doesn't make his behaviour excusable, you are right when you say Mineta was failed by the adults around him. Especially his parents and Aizawa, as you pointed out, they were the ones prime positioned to fix this behaviour, yet they did not. We don't know what his parents are like for certain, but I believe his dad was likely a verbally and emotionally abusive misogynist who Mineta idolised. And we know that Aizawa fluctuates between negligence and using his hero grade weapon on Mineta as discipline... so there is no consistent messaging there. Yikes.

Instead, Hori implied Mina had to clockwork orange Mineta to stop him being a pervert which... took away Mineta's whole agency in his decision to stop being perverted. (Did his character even get better at all by his own freewill really if Mina had to do this? Will that 'brainwashing' break one day? Here is another reason to hate Hori's writing.)

Hori also doesn't expand on the things that could make Mineta sympathetic, the lisp, the possibly being bullied in the past, the likely self-confidence issues. He doesn't expand on Mineta's backstory or expand on why he wants to be a hero, really (if it was just girls, he would have quit by now, let's be real).

It is a failure in Hori's writing that he doesnt give Mineta (as a HERO student) a redemption arc where he realises just how awful he's been to the girls and vows to make up for it. This moment could have even begun because Mineta stops his perversions due to wanting to be more well-liked and like Midoriya (who he looks up to). The building blocks are there - Hori neglects them.

TLDR: Mineta is a character that could have had potential, and his quirk is interesting. He had potential for a character redemption arc, potential for an interesting backstory, too.

The reason why Mineta is hated is because Hori wastes all his potential to have a lazily written creepy pervert throughout the majority of the story.

Good traits such as Mineta's bravery only make a large appearance later, and the perversions disappear too late in the story to really salvage his popularity.

Not only that, but being a hero is a privilege, not a right. Mineta has got to show through the story as a member of 1A why he deserves to be there and why he has the character for Heroism - unfortunately Hori fails to do this for him because of the reasons I mentioned above.

A lazily written cowardly perverted character could have worked in a minor villain character, but this is instead in a member of 1A, who we are meant to root for adding to the cognitive dissonance of his character.

[captain-hawks]

shinichiro sano + books + purple

(congratulations on 1k! 💖)

(thank you so much<3!!!!)

shinichiro sano x reader

c: fluff, book store meet cute

“Got any books on bikes?”

Attention pulled away from the book propped open beneath your hand, you slip a bookmark between the pages and glance up. The man standing across from you on the other side of the counter sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the bookshop’s overflowing shelves and kitschy armchairs, the large, lazy feline lounging beside the register lifting her head to appraise his appearance.

Messy black hair flops over his forehead, despite his futile attempt at carding a hand through it as he offers you a lopsided grin, the thumb of his other hand hooked in one of the belt loops of his jeans with a lighter lodged between his fingers. A leather jacket is thrown over one of his shoulders, a few dark smudges breaking up the stark white cotton of his t-shirt and lingering across his knuckles as well. And with that, you’re certain he doesn’t mean bicycles. 

The cat hisses.

He laughs, and he reaches out to pet her, despite the menacing swat of one of her furry, orange paws.

Shinichiro Sano is far softer than he looks.

And he makes a habit of it—coming into the bookshop.

Coming into the bookshop and disrupting all flow of rational thought from your brain, your mind losing focus the moment you hear the now-familiar sound of his bike coming down the busy street, heart fumbling in your chest without fail the moment the rumble of the engine cuts out. 

Shinichiro has to know—that you haven’t the slightest damn clue which of the various books on motorcycles and auto mechanics nestled away in the reference section are the best reads. They’re topics that are entirely out of your depth, those shelves an entire universe away from your favorite well-worn paths in the romance and fantasy aisles. 

But you do the same dance every time—

He smiles, he waves.

He ambles up to the register, busying himself with haplessly trying to win over the cat if you’re occupied with another customer.

(Several cat toys have mysteriously appeared over the past few months.)

And then he vaguely rattles off the name of some book he’s looking for, shooting a boyish grin over his shoulder as he waits for you to come and guide the way like he has no idea where he’s going. Like he doesn’t end up in the same exact aisle every single time he comes in. 

Shinichiro Sano is far softer than he looks, because despite the loud bike he parks out front and the bold tattoos that wind up and down his arms—

—despite the way his heavy black boots scuff against the carpet—

—despite the fact that he disrupts the shop’s pleasant scent of books with the distinct, heavy smell of motor oil—

—despite the fact that you’re more than a little certain at this point that he’s got history with Tokyo’s motorcycle gang scene—

—he opens each book like it’s a precious artifact.

(You’ve found yourself distracted by the sight of his long fingers carefully turning pages more than a few times.)

He wipes his shoes on the little welcome mat at the door.

He pets the cat.

He brings you tea from your favorite café two streets over.

And maybe it’s ridiculous, how you think perhaps you’re a little bit in love with this man already.

—

It’s that goddamn purple book that does it, in the end.

The book’s an eyesore—a thick tome bound in a gaudy shade of purple, the spine embellished with an equally offensive sprawl of lime green text. 

It’s some odd collection of new age poetry, one that you’ve contemplated tossing in the garbage bin time and time again in the five years that you’ve worked at the shop, given that it’s clearly destined to live a life in shelved purgatory. (It would be a merciful sendoff.)

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon when you spy the book nestled away in the wrong aisle on the wrong shelf, staring at you tauntingly beside an otherwise aesthetically-pleasing row of classics. 

A very high row of classics. 

And naturally, rather than taking the time to fetch a stool, you opt for your tiptoes and outstretched fingers instead, hand coming up empty as you predictably lose your balance and stumble backward—right into something solid.

Someone.

Shinichiro’s far warmer than you expected.

It’s all you can think about as you hear the familiar sound of his hushed laughter behind you, the sound reverberating through his chest.

“And yet you always yell at me for doing the same thing,” he huffs in amusement, sending a shiver jolting down your spine at the intimate feeling of his breath hitting the shell of your ear. 

“The stool is across the store,” you protest, trying and failing to keep your voice steady despite the onslaught of emotion frying the circuit board of your brain at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you.

He’s—

He’s reaching for the book.

One hand outstretched, he asks, “Which one?”

His fingers flutter lazily in the air, like he has all the time in the world.

Like he’s not pressed up against you in an empty aisle, his hair tickling the side of your face as he leans forward. And for once, it’s not the scent of books that pervades your senses as you stand before the shelves, nor is it the whiff motor oil that incessantly clings to him.

It’s the light, pleasant fragrance of detergent that envelopes you, the smell gentle and calm like an early summer breeze. 

(Softer than he looks.)

There’s no use in hiding the hitch in your breath.

“The purple one,” you whisper.

“That’s the ugliest book I’ve ever seen.”

And then you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and his hands are on your shoulders and he’s spinning you around to face him and his smile is so soft and he’s looking at you so intently your heart might just burst and—

“I love it when you laugh.”

And he’s kissing you.

An ugly purple book lies forgotten on the shelf and Shinichiro tenderly takes your face in his hands and kisses you. Again. And again.

And again.

[lovelybarnes]

The Thing- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: best friend bucky, i do not think it’s an au but honestly i dont know? I wrote this for fun so i made details fuzzy, innuendos. Did i check over this right im so tired About: new girl inspired. I was watching the episode with the trench coat and that fucking scen got to me like??? I had to. I started crying.

Bucky thumps around in your closet, too-long limbs making the doors shake when vibranium fingers slam against them. He grunts, followed by a disconcerting silence, only charcoaled by the metal clinking of steel hangers and heavy breaths. You purse your lips, looking up from your phone to stare at the shut doors. You can imagine him standing frozen for a glimpse of peace. Or staring at your favorite sweater, metal-finger-torn. You frown.

“Are you okay? Did you pass out?”

He huffs, more shuffling noises ensuing. “No.” Something drops to the floor.

“Pick that up!” you call when it doesn’t sound like he does.

“Why couldn’t I change in the same room? It’s cramped in here. And you’ve seen more.” He pauses and you can hear his smirk. “So have I,” he mutters pleasedly.

Your fingers reach for the closest thing and launch it at the closet. “Because the last time you did, Wanda walked in, and then Sam did, and we ended up with half of our friends staring at you half-naked on my bed.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bucky argues.

“And my closet isn’t that small,” you quip.

Your closet doors roll open, light defining Bucky’s features and catching the blue in his irises. His sweater compliments the color too nicely than should be possible. Along with it, he wears a grimace.

“What’s wrong? You look great.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” he admits, pulling at a thread.

“Starting to?” you parrot. “Agreeing?” You shove your legs to the side of the bed and stand, heading toward him. “Bucky, they had to bribe you into saying maybe. And then you insisted on staying anyway the entire time up to now.”

“I would really rather stay here with you.” Bucky leans into your touch when you settle your hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently.

“That’s all you’ve been doing for months,” you point out.

“And I’ve really enjoyed it,” he allays.

You laugh, fingers coming to a frustrated rest on his face. You try to come up with an argument but fail, deflating. “Me too.”

He grins. “See? I’m gonna go tell them I’m just gonna stay here to watch more horror movies with you.”

You loop your index and middle around his wrist before he can leave your room. “You know how much I love you. And how much I love spending time with you. Which is why I think you should go.” You continue before he can begin to argue. “This’ll be good for you. And me. You’re kind of annoying, you know?” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

He rolls his eyes but relents, inhaling deeply. “Fine.”

“If you absolutely hate it—”

“I will.” You glare at him.

“Then I will fully support you in never going out again.”

He perks up. “You’re my best friend. You should support me before that,” he jibs.

Exasperated, you wag a lazy finger in the air. “You’re so annoying.”

The door to your room bangs open to Sam and a slightly begrudging Steve both very dressed up. Sam has a hand over his eyes, other arm extended dramatically to search around him. “Everyone decent this time?”

You glance at Bucky.

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky groans.

He grins and claps. “So we can finally go out? Do I have to drag you out kicking? ‘Cuz I will.”

“He did,” Steve remarks further.

“No,” Bucky glowers, then gestures to you. “‘Convinced me.”

“Of course,” Sam says, turning to you with a smile. “Now, you. I love you, you know that, but tonight we’re going out to have fun. Which means,” he begins to count off on his fingers, “none of the girlfriend texts or calls you send all the time.”

“They’re not girlfriend,” you argue.

“And she can call me if she needs anything,” Bucky adds.

“But try not to,” Sam insists. “Now, let’s go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, lamely watching his friends go out the door again. He turns to you and pecks your forehead. “Call me for whatever. I’ll probably thank you if I’m not the one insinuating.”

You shove him lightly. “Have fun.”

“Love you too!” he laughs, waving once more at you before he disappears past your doorframe. It’s only a few more seconds of the guys chatting before the apartment door closes and steals away the noise with it.

You deflate, sagging onto your bed. Dazedly, your fingertips drift to your forehead, where the shadow of a kiss still warms your skin. Frustration digs its nails into your arm and your hand fists, eyes squeezing closed. There’s the sticky rush of tears in the back of your throat and you groan loudly, but it’s obstructed and thin.

You pop an eyelid open when something else catches your attention, squeezing your lips closed to focus on the thin, chalkboard scratches further away. You sit up and stare out your door for a second, before realizing it’s coming from the front door.

“Bucky couldn’t have backed out by now,” you mutter, reasoning that he could’ve forgotten something when the noise suddenly stops. “Huh,” you quip. He must’ve found it.

You sigh again, at least satisfied that the sudden burst of emotion had passed. Deciding not to dwell on it, you pull your laptop onto your bed and search for a show to watch until you come up with something better to do.

It’s an episode and a half past when the noise returns, a little louder and accompanied by a faint tapping. Hopeful, you pause the episode, expecting for it to disappear with the click of your touchpad. When it doesn’t, you tense and think, calling out your friends’ names and listening to the responding quiet.

You pull at your fingers nervously, debating stilling to will it to go away or going to investigate. Clips from yours and Bucky’s horror movie night the previous day flash in your mind, making you cringe and stay put. Silence falls after a minute, but you remain unsettled, uneasily dragging yourself off your bed, poking your head out from your room to observe the hall up to the living room. “Bucky? Sam?”

No response.

You stare at the door, expecting some tangible inference of yours to appear in the shadowed crooks of the weathered red thing. When it doesn’t, you force yourself to be brave and head down to the living room, wrapping yourself in blankets with your front facing the entrance.

You resume your show but pay only half attention to it, jumping when there’s a loud crash in a scene. Hand to your heart, you pant at the scare, dissolving into a disbelieving laugh.

“I’m an idiot,” you state to no one. “I’m scaring myself.”

You splay yourself on the couch and breathe, rationalizing.

“This is Bucky’s fault,” you say matter-of-factedly. “He’s the one who chose home invasion horror when he was leaving me home alone the night after.”

You stare at your keyboard, rubbing off a smudge on the space key.

“I hate home invasion horror,” you mutter, running a hand down your face.

“This is pathetic,” you lecture. “What am I reduced to?”

Bravely, you stand, taking your computer with you to the kitchen.

You’re gathering a ridiculous amount of oily cookie cutters in your oven-warmed apartment when you hear it again, louder and more startling than the previous times. You flinch, a multitude of colorful molds tumbling to the floor in your startlement.

You leave them in exchange for paying attention. Slowly, you slink over to the door, peeking through the peephole to see nothing. Now confused, you pull the door open, greeted with silence and an empty hallway.

You walk away once you shut the door with heavy hesitation, shoving warm cookies into your mouth, unsure.

Trying to be rational, you type out a short text contorting your panic into something a little more playful, your thumb hovering above the send button just as you remember Sam’s warning. Isn’t this what he meant? Silly requests that interrupt Bucky’s good time?

You stop, deleting everything you’d written and flipping your phone screen down on the kitchen island. Everything was fine, you were sure.

It’s juxtaposingly pleasing and frightening to hear it the next time; both disappointing and reassuring that your mind wasn’t making things up. The intervals between the noise get shorter, too, until it’s less than a half hour after the last, and you’re buzzing with paranoia.

You text your scariest friend first, anxiously waiting for Sent to turn Read below your message to Natasha, but it never does.

It takes half an hour and the noise to come back before you give up on her, instead watching Wanda’s three little dots pulse before they settle on an apology because she’s on a date.

Tony and Bruce are out of town for some convention and Thor is on vacation, meaning you’ve officially run out of friends to call for help.

Your fear builds until you can’t help yourself, powered by thorough panic when you click on your first contact number. It’s only a couple tones before Bucky answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so, no big deal, but there’s something scratching at the door and I’m worried for my life.”

“What?”

“This is your fault,” you cry. “It’s the movies, I—”

“It’s probably the neighbor’s kids playing tricks on you. You know they’re assholes.”

“But I’ve gone outside and there’s no one there. There’s no way they can run that fast, right?”

“Maybe?”

“Look, I’m really freaked out,” you admit. “I really don’t want to bother you but Nat isn’t answering and Wanda’s out on a date and it keeps coming back and—”

“Okay, hey,” Bucky’s voice comes through a little clearer, paying more attention. “It’s okay. I’ll come back, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” You feel bad. You feel so bad your skin prickles with regret, suddenly willing to stand out in the hallway and let your monster eat you alive.

“Don’t be.” You can feel the comforting nudge he gives you when he’s reassuring. “I was about to call you anyway, this is as bad as I remembered it being.”

You manage a weak laugh. “Thank you,” you say genuinely.

“Thank me by not asking questions when I somehow get there in three minutes, okay?”

You furrow your brows. “What? How would you—”

“I think that’s a question,” Bucky interrupts.

“You left already,” you conclude. “Why did you leave early?”

“I think it’s unfair you can do that.”

“I think it’s hypocritical of you to say that.” Your near peace dissipates when something scrapes down the length of your door. Uselessly, you duck down behind the kitchen island. “Are you here yet?” It’s more of a beg than anything, a longing for the sound to be his clumsy fingers with a dodging key.

“Elevator. Which means—” His voice fizzles predictably, inspiring a fresh surge of hate for the machine. A few expected seconds tick by, a click cutting them off.

“What—” You tap your phone angrily. “I hate this stupid building—”

The noise returns, sharp and close and angrier than you’d heard it. You’re only slightly comforted by the thought that Bucky should be nearby, mainly in vehement disagreement with your fate. You curl your fingers around a rolling pin and crawl closer to the door, nails digging into your palms at the close proximity of your aggressor.

The door flies open and you jump up in tandem. “Don’t! My best friend is really big and he’ll beat you up!”

Bucky stands in the doorway, blue eyes rounded, palms up and open.

You pant together for a moment, before your limbs relax in relief, rolling pin tumbling to the ground as you fall into his chest. “Oh my god.”

Automatic, his hands steady around your waist. He says your name in question, pulling you closer anyway.

“What was that?”

“I thought—I thought it was the thing.”

“The thing?”

“I don’t know what it is Bucky, that’s why I called you,” you snap, digging your nose deeper into his neck.

“I didn’t see anything outside,” he offers.

You deflate at his saccharinity. “I’m sorry. That was mean. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, smoothing his palm over your back. It’s a comforting weight, his lovely tolerance of you endearing, although he’d frown at your choice of words. You pull away but stay at his side, laying your head on his shoulder. Your phone rings and you make no move to answer it. He looks at you questioningly.

“I left voicemails in case I died,” you explain, watching Clint’s contact picture flicker. “It might’ve been an exaggeration but look how late they’re calling. What if it were a dire situation? How useless would they be?” You fist your hand in his jacket. “I’m glad I have you.”

“You didn’t leave me a voicemail,” Bucky complains. “You never called in the first place. Whaf if you had died? What about me?”

“I called you.”

“To come here. No goodbye message.”

“It wasn’t a goodbye so much as fear-spurred insurance—”

“Well, how come I didn’t get one?”

“For one, you answered the phone. For two, I knew I’d be fine if you said you’d come. And for three, I knew you’d come if I asked.”

Bucky quiets. “I would.”

“You did,” you agree. 

Something shifts. Subtle and sweet, his heat on your skin isn’t all that casual anymore. He notices, too, shifting lightly on his feet, the weight of his fingers on your waist definitely heavier.

“So,” he starts. “I’m really big, huh?”

[codenamesazanka]

Spinner used to be a hikikomori and NEET, which means he was a recluse who wasn’t in school or employment (and technically still isn’t) and had withdrawn even from his family to hide out in his room.

We get two one-panel flashbacks to this era of his life and the imagery prove the label undeniable. As official Viz translator Caleb Cook notes:

…Book stacks, tied-up garbage bags, general clutter. This is the classic NEET/hikikkomori living space, as portrayed in media like Welcome to the NHK and other series. It screams "young adult whose life is in shambles.” There's huge visual contrast between a NEET apartment and a teen's room in manga/anime. The latter is almost always spick and span. In Japanese media, excessive clutter is often a visual marker for characters who have failed society's expectations of them. Practically a trope.

Going by this imagery, guess who else is a hikikomori/NEET— or, is (supposed to be) read as a hikikomori/NEET?

Shigaraki Tomura’s room fulfills all the requirements of this trope, down to every tiny bit of filth on the floor. There’s really no difference between his and Spinner’s room.

And Spinner likely recognizes this. While everyone else is watching Shigaraki after they escape from Kamino - minus Mr. Compress and Toga who are talking - Spinner is the only one staring at the dirty floor, lost in his own thoughts.

＊

I’ve seen meta before about how Shigaraki’s living conditions are a direct result of All For One’s lack of proper education - that All For One purposefully wants Shigaraki to have bad hygiene, to wallow in his own filth and just completely neglect any basic upkeep. Just another way to whittle him down. That’s a fair assumption, but I think it’s worth pointing out that in Tenko’s early years living with All For One, his room is neat and clean, even after he starts to accumulate toys and books and general stuff.

The best time to teach a child to set (or not set) habits is when they’re young, and clearly Tenko knew at least to not toss litter around carelessly, to put things away, and even to make his bed:

Of course, it could be that the teaching of deterioration started when AFO gave Shigaraki Tomura his name, but the people around Shigaraki the most have always shown to be neat and proper: AFO is always dressed in a suit; the Doctor’s lab is crowded with a lot going on, but not dirty; Kurogiri, who we assume has been babysitting Shigaraki for years, keeps the bar immaculate. AFO’s other wards also live in neat, clean environments:

That’s not to say AFO didn’t contribute at all to Shigaraki’s hikikomori vibe - simply keeping someone isolated and depressed will bound to make a mess of their mind and that will be reflected in the environment; just that AFO didn’t have to purposefully teach Shigaraki not to clean up after himself - he didn’t need to when Shigaraki does it on his own.

In any case, Shigaraki reads as a hikikomori/NEET from the start, someone alienated from society and wildly off the typical, proper life path expected of him as a young man, and resents the rest of the world for it.

＊

Combining the two observations, I think this is another aspect to why Spinner had so quickly grew attached to Shigaraki after the Doc calls Shigaraki a loser

Being hikikomori/NEET is just another commonality they both share, in Spinner’s eyes. Before the crumbling, glittery horizon of Deika; even before the revelation of Shigaraki’s grand ‘Destroy Everything’ goal, Spinner was just some depressed 20-something-year-old who saw another depressed 20-something-year-old and recognized their similar pain, then wanting to lift that burden somehow, however he could.

＊

*Important to note: Often hikikomori/NEETs are seen as failures that can really only blame themselves, lazy parasites on their families and society. Of the three hikikomori the series have shown so far - Shigaraki, Spinner, La Brava - the story have been careful to clearly draw a line between the marginalization they face and why they ended up how they did. Shigaraki was kidnapped by a criminal mastermind; Spinner stayed inside for his own protection because walking outside got him sprayed with pesticides, among other things; and La Brava was bullied and mocked by her peers. Horikoshi have made all three characters incredibly sympathetic and made the root cause of their alienation not from faults of their own but from how society had failed them.

[iamthecomet]

Impatience

[Kinktober Day 7 - Cockwarming] (Prompts from the lovely @kroas-adtam)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mountain/Dew

Featuring: Cockwarming. Bottoming from the top. Desperate Mountain. Unaffected Dew. Anal Sex.

Word Count: 768

Mountain pretends he's in charge. We all know he isn't.

Read it on AO3 or under the cut.

“Stop moving.” 

Dew doesn’t. Not for a few more agonizing moments where Mountain is sure the soft impossible heat of Dew’s body will actually kill him. Then he settles down, settles in. Shoulder’s sagging with a soft huff of air that makes Mountain’s stomach twist. 

He runs a hand up Dew’s spine. Curls it around the back of his neck, over baby hairs already gone sweaty. 

“Dewdrop–”

���I was getting comfortable,” Dew retorts. He leans back against Mountain, melting into him. Mountain doesn’t have much of a choice but to allow it. To curl his arms around Dew’s waist. Pressing his back against his chest. The angle change is madness for Mountain. Tighter, somehow. An angle that makes him want to piston his hips up into Dew’s body. Makes him want to take. To break his own rules. 

Dew closes his eyes, turns his head to rest his cheek against Mountain’s collarbone. 

“Do it again and you can leave,” Mountain tries to sound tough. Like he means it. Dew humors him. Nods against his chest like he believes him. But there’s a lack of conviction in Mountain’s words. He can pretend that Dew wants this more than him. 

That he’s annoyed. Doing Dew a favor by allowing him to sit on his cock. But they can both feel the tension in Mountain’s thighs. His stomach. Dew can no doubt feel the way Mountain’s cock twitches inside of him. 

Dew feigns relaxed, easy. Mountain isn’t sure which of them will break first. He’s worried it might be him. He won’t send Dew away. Not now. Not after he watched Dew work himself open. Spread wide and exposed–a show that made Mountain’s mouth water. Not now that he’s buried to the hilt inside of that hot little body. 

Dew clenches around him unconsciously. Little twitches and flutters from the pressure. Each one of them squeezes Mountain in all the right places. Makes him long to drive himself upward. To press his palm over the telltale bulge between Dew’s hip bones. To feel himself split Dew in half. 

Dew’s supposed to be the one sweating. The one begging. The one who wanted to get fucked so badly he’d settle for this–just being stuffed full. But Dew’s breath is even. Eyes closed. Relaxed. 

Mountain feels like he’s going insane. Like one wrong move, one twitch, and he’s going to dig his fingers into Dew’s hips and fuck him into next week. 

He could. He’s supposed to be in charge here after all. He can do whatever he wants. But he has the strangest sense that he should be asking for permission. That somehow everything has flipped and Dew is the one who gets to decide when Mountain lets loose. When he’s allowed to fuck the ghoul currently lounging on his lap. 

Mountain drags his eyes away from Dew’s lax face and back to the TV. To a documentary about bees he’s been dying to watch for months. Now that they’re home from tour he has time. He thought it was a good idea. Something to distract him without fail from the way he and Dew are connected. 

It isn’t working. 

“Relax,” Dew purrs. Breath hot against Mountain’s throat. Dew reaches back, arm curling up so his hand can slip into Mountains’ hair. Dew tips his head up, pulls Mountain’s down, and then they’re kissing. 

It starts soft and easy. The slow glide of their lips. Lazy. Dew licks at the seam of Mountain’s lips and he opens his mouth for Dew’s tongue. Swimming in the taste of him, the feel of him. He melts into it and Dew pulls back, settling his head back down. Fingers still scratching gently against Mountain’s scalp. 

“I can’t,” Mountain admits finally. Wanting to chase Dew’s mouth, wanting to shove him forward, press his face into the mattress and fuck him.

Dew’s other hand smooths over Mountain’s trembling thigh. “Thought you didn’t need it. Thought you were doing me a favor.” 

Dew throws Mountain’s own words back at him with practiced ease. 

“I am.” 

“No, you want it. So why don’t you just take it?” 

Mountain closes his eyes. He holds Dew a little tighter. Long arms wrapped around his waist, fingers digging into the spaces beneath his ribs.

Dew wiggles, manages to get a good roll of his hips, and then another. Until he’s moving in earnest. Mountain’s hands go slack on Dew’s sides and Dew starts to bounce. 

“Sit still,” Mountain growls.

Dew laughs, bounces harder. Free from Mountain’s grip he rolls his hips on each downstroke, taking exactly what he wants. 

“No.” 

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: One Hell of a Prince

Summary: Sebastian, (Y/N), and Ciel find a strange prince and his khansama in London.

            “Have you still not apprehended the culprit, Abberline?!” cried Lord Randall as (Y/N), Sebastian, and Ciel walked up to another crime scene of an Englishman being hung upside down naked in the street.

            “I-I am profoundly sorry, sir!” said Abberline.

            “Failing to catch Jack the Ripper, doing nothing but putting feathers in that brat’s cap…” Randall huffed.

            “That brat? Do you mean Ciel Phantomhive?” said Abberline as he looked over case files. “I cannot help but feel he bears some immense burden even though his is still but a child.”

            “A child?” remarked Ciel, leaning over to see Abberline’s files without announcing himself. “A series of incidents targeting those who have returned from India?”

            “Master Ciel!” exclaimed Abberline.

            “It seems there haven’t been any fatalities yet,” said Ciel. He stepped up and took another paper from Randall’s hands. “ ‘Crazy and lazy children, huh?’ ” He read from the statement of the perpetrator. “The culprit’s choice of words is very accurate. I also think this country would be considerably better off without the nouveau riche who cam back from India. At any rate, this mark is…”

            “They’re making fun of us and Her Majesty the Queen!” declared Randall. “The culprit has to be Indian.”

            “Ah, so that’s why I was called out,” said Ciel. “The vast majority of Indians who have been smuggled into the country are situated in the East End underworld society. Scotland Yard still has no idea of the exact number or their precise location, does it? There is no way we can sit idly by while the royal family is slandered. Let’s go, Sebastian, (Y/N).”

            The small group walked along the port to where many suspects might live. As they walked, a man bumped into Ciel.

            “Oh, so painful!” cried the man dramatically as more men surrounded them. “I think one of my ribs has fractured! Damn it, I might die!”

            “This is terrible,” cried another man. “You should get compensation to pay for a doctor!”

            “You better leave us everything you have,” said another voice in the crowd.

            “We seem to have been surrounded by rather loutish thugs,” remarked Sebastian.

            “So unfortunate. We should clear the way,” said (Y/N).

            “Take care of this quickly,” said Ciel.

            “Understood,” said Sebastian.

            “Hey!” The man grabbed Ciel by the collar. “All the Indians around here have a grudge against you English!”

            Which is fair, all things considered, thought (Y/N).

            The man raised a dagger, and Sebastian flicked him in the forehead. The simple motion threw the man to the ground.

            “Are you alright?” asked Sebastian with a smile.

            “Yes,” said Ciel.

            “You bastard,” growled the man. He raised his dagger again.

            “Wait,” said a new voice. Everyone paused as a two well-dressed men, one with purple hair and the other with white, stepped out onto the street. One held a really terrible drawing. “We are looking for someone. Have you seen this person?”

            “What do you want, you bastard?! Don’t interrupt me!” said the thug.

            “Are you having a duel or something?” said the new man brightly. He blinked as he saw (Y/N) and Sebastian beside Ciel. “Oh, he has a khansama with him. Are you one of the English nobles?”

            “And if I am?” said Ciel coldly.

            “In that case, I shall side with my countrymen in this quarrel,” said the young man. He turned to the man following him, the white-haired one, and said, “Agni.”

            “Yes?” said Agni.

            “Defeat them,” said the man.

            “Jo anja,” said Agni dutifully. He began to unwrap his bandaged right hand. “My right hand, blessed by the Gods, shall be wielded for my master.”

            Agni ran at them. Sebastian grabbed Ciel and jumped out of the way, and (Y/N) blocked Agni’s attack, their eyes narrowing as Agni’s inhuman strength, yet he was as human as anyone. Agni adjusted quickly, turning midair, kicking, flipping, and striking with blows faster than the human eye could be. (Y/N)’s reactions were catlike with precision, perfectly timed with his attacks.

            “I’ve hit your vital points several times now,” said Agni. “You should already be paralyzed. How can you still move?” (Y/N) smirked at his confusion.

            “Hey! We were just passing through here!” said Ciel. “It was those men who looked to rob me.”

            “What? You people, did you attack the little one over there for no reason?” asked the purple-haired noble. “That is not right! This time, my countrymen are at fault. Agni, take the little one’s side.”

            That’s how easy it is to change is mind? (Y/N) raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

            “Understood,” said Agni, and in a moment, all the men were lying in a heap on the ground. “It’s taken care of, Prince Soma.”

            “Good,” said Soma. “Well, then, I was in the middle of looking for someone, so I had better be going. See you.” He sighed and turned away with Agni. “English roads are too complicated. Let’s head left next.” And they just…walked away.

            What strange humans, thought (Y/N).

l

            “I’m completely drained,” muttered Ciel once they made it back to the townhouse. “The culprit might have been one of those we saw.”

            “Let us await Lord Randall’s report,” said Sebastian.

            “Young Master, welcome home,” greeted the rest of the servants.

            “If I keep getting called out to London for all these trivial incidents, there’ll be no end to it,” huffed Ciel.

            “Ah! Earl, you really did come!” Lau opened the front door, not caring for decorum or invitations as usual.

            “You’re always so unannounced!” said Ciel. “I keep telling you, if you’re going to visit, at least send a letter or something first.”

            “Have you said that?” Lau’s memory was terrible as always.

            “Since we have a guest now, I shall prepare some tea,” said Sebastian.

            “Fine,” said Ciel.

            “I’d prefer an English Chai blend,” said a familiar voice.

            “Fi—!” Ciel’s eyes widened as he saw Soma and Agni standing in the doorway.

            “Ah, I met them around the corner,” said Lau. “They said they wanted to meet the Earl.”

            “Why are you here?!” cried Ciel.

            “Why? We got acquainted earlier, did we not?” said Soma.

            “Acquainted?” questioned Ciel.

            “And, also, we saved you,” said Soma, walking confidently into the house.

            “Saved?! In what way?!” cried Ciel.

            “In India, hosting for those to whom you are indebted is common sense,” said Soma. “Is it the English way to throw such people out under the cold sky?” He walked upstairs casually to a bedroom.

            “Who are you anyway?!” demanded Ciel as he threw the door open after Soma and Agni.

            “Me?” Soma was lounging happily on the bed. “I am a prince.”

            “A prince?” asked (Y/N). The rest of the servants peeked into the room next to them.

            “This personage is the Bengal Kingdom’s prince, the twenty-sixth son of the King of Bengal, Prince Soma Asman Cadart,” said Agni.

            “I’ll be imposing on you for a while, Little One,” said Soma.

            Presumptuous. He’s going to be an irritating guest, thought (Y/N).

            “Wow! A prince!” exclaimed Finny.

            “A prince!” echoed Mey-Rin.

            “This is the first time I’ve seen a real prince in the flesh!” said Baldroy.

            “You may approach me,” said Soma. The servants crowded Soma with questions.

            “So, you brought your servants with you this time?” remarked Lau.

            “Yes. We have a guard dog to protect the manor while we’re away now,” said Sebastian.

            “Well, that must be a relief,” said Lau.

            “Sebastian, (Y/N), keep an eye on them,” said Ciel.

            “Understood,” said Sebastian.

            “Yes, sir,” said (Y/N).

l

            “Master Ciel, it is time to wake up.”

            Ciel’s eyes opened before jumping in shock. Agni and Soma were in his room.

            “Namaste, Master Ciel,” said Agni, smiling.

            “Why are you in my bedroom?!” cried Ciel.

            “We’re going out, Little One! Show us around!” said Soma brightly, picking up Ciel.

            “Why should I have to?!” demanded Ciel, trying to push out of Soma’s arms. “And I have a proper name! It’s Ciel, not Little One!”

            “Then, Ciel, I ask that you be our guide,” said Soma. “Come!”

            “Sorry to intrude,” said Sebastian, stepping into the room before Soma could run away with Ciel. “But the Young Master has studies and work duties to attend to today to today.”

            “You’ll have to accompany yourselves,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “No, we shall stay and wait for Ciel,” said Soma, smiling as if that was normal.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched in annoyance.

l

            Sure enough, Soma and Agni were not far behind Ciel as he practiced violin. (Y/N) watched in amusement as Sebastian, in a tutor outfit (which made (Y/N)’s eyes unabashedly roam him), instructed him.

            Ciel played as best he could, and Sebastian listened for imperfections. The melody was interrupted, however, when the sound of prayers began. Agni and Soma had erected a statue of a Hindu goddess and were praying before it.

            “What on earth?” asked Ciel.

            “It seems they’re praying, but that’s a rather fantastic idol, isn’t it?” remarked Lau.

            “I’ve seen Cults. This is reasonable for hu-people,” said (Y/N).

            “All I can see is a statue of a woman carrying a head with a necklace of heads around her neck, dancing on the body of a man,” said Sebastian.

            “She is one of the Hindu gods we worship, the Goddess Kali,” said Agni.

            “Hindi gods, eh?” said Ciel.

            “Kali is the wife of Shiva and a goddess of power,” explained Agni. “In far distant times, a certain demon recklessly challenged her to a fight. Of course, the goddess Kali won. However, after that, unable to quell her destructive urges, she went on a rampage of death and destruction. In a bid to defend the Earth, her husband, the god Shiva, lay down at her feet. Having stepped on her husband with unclean feet, the goddess Kali returned to her senses, and the Earth once again became peaceful. Kali is the great goddess who defeated a demon after a mighty battle. As proof of that, she has the demon’s head in her grasp.”

            “So he says,” said Ciel, glancing back at (Y/N) and Sebastian.

            “To think there was a god as strong as that…” murmured Sebastian. “I will have to be careful if I ever go to India.”

            “I rather liked Egypt when I traveled there,” said (Y/N). They smirked. “I convinced some people to worship me.”

            “Well, then, our prayers are concluded, so let’s go out!” said Soma.

            “As I said, I’m busy!” said Ciel as Soma tried to drag him out again.

            “What are you even doing anyway?” sighed Soma.

            “You’re being distracting. Be quiet!” said Ciel. He picked up his fencing sword. He had practiced violin, now it was fencing. “If you want my attention so badly, then I’ll be your opponent!”

            Soma excitedly took the other sword. “So, if I win against you, you’ll come out with us?”

            “If you can,” said Ciel.

            “Good luck,” said Agni.

            “Well, then, begin!” said Sebastian.

            Agni is going to be beaten, thought (Y/N). He clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

            Sure enough, Agni swung the foil at Ciel’s leg, and it bent.

            “There’s no benefit to hitting the foot with a foil,” remarked Ciel sarcastically.

            Agni parried a few blows and huffed. “That’s unfair! I don’t know the rules!”

            “A match is a match,” said Ciel. “It’s your fault for not knowing.” Ciel had the upper hand and was about to finish the match with a blow to the stomach.

            “My Prince, look out!” Agni intervened. One hand held a cup to block the tip of the fencing foil, and the other struck Ciel’s pressure points, causing his arm to go limp. Agni’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d done. “M-Master Ciel. I’m so sorry. When I thought that His Highness was going to lose, my body moved of its own accord.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. Agni seemed to have some honor, even if Soma seemed immature and naïve. They would remain careful around the unnaturally talented human, but they had to admit, he wasn’t the most intolerable mortal they’d met.

            Sebastian noticed (Y/N) observing Agni, and his eyes narrowed.

            Soma laughed. “Agni, you protected me well. I give you my praise! Agni is my khansama and belongs to me. Therefore, the win was mine.”

            “Th-That’s ridiculous!” said Ciel.

            “Oh, dear, Sebastian, it seems like the Young Master’s honor must be defended,” said (Y/N). They smirked and tossed Ciel’s fallen foil to Sebastian.

            He caught it effortlessly. His eyes turned to Agni. Well, he had to prove a point now that the human had gotten (Y/N)’s attention. “Good grief,” he said. He masked himself easily with disdain at Ciel. “This happened because you teased an amateur who doesn’t know the rules.”

            “My fault?!” huffed Ciel.

            “Nevertheless, as a butler of the Phantomhives, now that my master has been injured, I cannot sit by and watch,” declared Sebastian. “All else aside, we’re ten minutes behind schedule.”

            “So, that’s what you’re really irritated about,” muttered Ciel.

            Not even close to correct, thought Sebastian.

            “I will allow a duel,” said Soma. “Agni, in the name of Kali, do not lose!” Agni bowed and took the fencing foil.

            “Sebastian, this is an order! Shut the brat up!” said Ciel.

            “Make this entertaining, you two,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Yes, of course,” said Sebastian, smirking.

            “Jo, ajna,” said Agni.

            “Begin,” said (Y/N).

            Agni and Sebastian were instantly in motion. With each thrust and parry, they danced around one another. Both were perfectly matched for the duel with inhuman grace as they fought. (Y/N) watched in fascination. Agni was most definitely human, but his skills were equal to those of Sebastian at the moment. It was truly fascinating to wat

            At the last moment, Agni and Sebastian both thrust their foil’s out, and the tips met. The foil’s bent. They snapped.

            “Oh, my. The foils snapped,” observed Sebastian.

            “The match is a draw,” said (Y/N), blinking in surprise.

            “Ciel’s khansama is pretty good,” said Soma. “Agni is the best fighter in my palace. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone fight on par with him.”

            Ciel walked to Sebastian and (Y/N) and whispered, “Just what is this man? He’s not one of those…” Reapers…

            “No, he’s definitely a human,” said Sebastian.

            “But with that power…He’s a likely suspect for the hangings,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian nodded. “Indeed. Hanging people would have been an easy task for him…” Perfect. (Y/N) would be wary around him instead of interested in any way.

l

            It seemed that everyone else was having a positive reaction to Agni, as well. When Sebastian and (Y/N) stepped into the kitchen, they expected the usual chaos. Instead, Baldroy, Finny, and Mey-Rin were working well beside Agni.

            “Thanks to everyone’s hard work, it looks like the food will be delicious,” said Agni.

            “This can’t be real,” said (Y/N).

            “Indeed, to have this lot helping you…” Sebastian didn’t have to elaborate.

            “Everyone is born with their own talent,” said Agni. “They have a duty and path laid out for them by the gods. We children of the gods abide by that and do what we can.”

            “You are a most well-rounded individual, aren’t you, Mr. Agni?” said Sebastian.

            “Not at all. Until I met the prince, I was a hopeless fool,” admitted Agni. “I will be forever in his debt. I injured those around me, strayed from the gods, and accumulated many sins. Finally, my day of judgement came. Without leaving any attachment in this world, I would…have died. But Prince Soma gave me a new life. To me, who had not even believed in the gods, who had thrown everything away…A god appeared! Indeed, that day, I saw the holy light of God within the prince.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. An interesting mortal.

            “The prince is both my king and my god,” said Agni. “Therefore, I will use this new life to protect the one who gave it to me and grant as many of his wishes as I can.”

            “Interesting,” said (Y/N), cocking their head. “You truly are devoted to him.” They had no loyalty to anyone in that. Well, almost anyone, but as a demon, they had to be ready to let go of attachments at any moment.

            “Yes,” said Agni. He brightened for a moment. “Ah, and I wanted to say something to you, (Y/N).”

            “Yes?” said (Y/N).

            Agni bowed. “I apologize for fighting you when we first met. Had Prince Soma and I known our countrymen were at fault, I would not have attacked.”

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. They put on a smile. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself against you, and you were following your prince’s orders as a servant should.”

            Sebastian’s respect for Agni’s devotion to his master and pure humanity was quickly losing to his desire to throw the man out of the house.

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[688199]

i will, don’t test me thomas doodooballs. my hatred for you triumphs everything 🔥🔥🔥 once i familiarise myself with mlb (🤮) i will maybe write a test script for an episode.

thomas and his writing team is proof that just because you have a job in something doesn’t mean you’re good at it.

huge rant and ramble:

as an avid enjoyer of story telling, i strongly despise everyone behind the writing of mlb.

firstly, marinette is supposed to have bad luck through her ditziness. i watched a few episodes, and her “bad luck” seems to just be with anything regarding adrien? it’s actually just more of her being obsessive and leading to stupid mistakes. on the other hand, bridgette obviously has bad luck. getting drenched, burning her tongue, yet she smiles through it. THIS IS POTENTIAL FOR BRIDGETTE’S CHARACTER. marinette’s character has never been properly explained. why is she this way? why is she different as ladybug? (honestly is she even different? kinda, but it’s not obvious) we sure do know why adrien is more carefree as chat noir. but not marinette. on the other hand, the set up for bridgette’s character can lead to so many plot possibilities. why is she so optimistic? is it because it’s what is expected of her? is she purposefully dense? when she gets drenched by the car, she pauses for a short while looking solemn, then smiles. but that smile looks pained almost. like she’s sick of acting that way. (yes i know i’m looking too much into a pv but that’s the point. i’m saying why the pv has potential.) therefore, as ladybug, she can be herself. someone who does whatever she wants, going ahead without thought, being the person she cannot be. anyways, why the hell is marinette even in love with adrien anyways. he just gave her a god damn umbrella or smth idk. i believe my baby bridgette loves felix because she truly sees his soft side. it may be cliche but it sure is a better reason than an umbrella.

secondly, felix. thomas and his team said he was too much like a cliche male anime protagonist, and adrien would let them tell more interesting stories. i mean sure, but it’s most ironic how they even FAILED AT THAT. i rather a cliche male anime protagonist than bitch boy adrien who is as bland as cardboard. felix being cold to those around him is very reasonable because as a model, he’s used to people only liking him for looks and his money. he thinks that bridgette only likes him for those reasons, so he pushes her away. but as chat noir, felix, like bridgette, is able to be someone he truly feels. unrestrained by societal pressures. EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE BOTH POLAR OPPOSITES, ONE BEING COLD WHILE THE OTHER IS TOO WARM, THEY SUFFER FROM THE SAME ISSUES DEEP DOWN. AS HEROES THEY ARE THEMSELVES. ISNT THIS COOL????? ISNT THIS A GOOD STORYTELLING POINT?????????? then even though he needs to kiss ladybug to break the curse, he soon falls in love with her because he admires her boldness, which is something he lacks when he’s himself. he doesn’t have the courage to stand up against his father. i think mlb chat noir likes ladybug for similar reasons but i don’t remember it being connected like that. (never watched the entire 100+ episodes, only bits and pieces, and read up other stuff so might be wrong.)

i believe his team is just straight lazy. they watered down the relationships and characters to the point that dynamic contrast is just not as powerful as before. in early preproduction art, the concept shown is supposed to revolve heavily around the idea of opposites. marinette is now just an obsessive stalker and adrien takes it. chat noir flirts with ladybug and she takes it. where’s the rejection from the opposite party??? where’s the oomph?? where’s the spice???

i do enjoy the concept of them letting go of their crushes. but i didn’t like how it was done in the series. it’s as if the writers don’t fucking know the hell they’re going. felix struggles with understanding whether he truly loves bridgette or is it because of the effects of the ring’s curse. does he really want the curse to be gone? while it gives him bad luck, he gets to be himself. what does he truly want? for bridgette, she realises that she is bothering felix too much. wanting the best for him and for her to focus on being ladybug, she learns to leave him in the past for both their good. she also suffers with the weight of being the main heroine. even though she uses her identity as ladybug to be free of expectations and responsibilities, yet it’s coming back to haunt her so she starts to feel stress. while chat noir and bridgette backs away, felix and ladybug realise that they miss the other’s company since the other was always there for them when they needed it the most. the way this was written in mlb was awfully horrible.

look at what i can do thomas astruc, look at the potential. “their chemistry sucks it’ll never work” SUCK MY BALLS WHAT BULLSHIT IS THAT.

anyways, other than the obvious reason as to why the animation is a lot more visually striking and can express more things the cgi can’t (dynamic movement, special effects, etc) (funny enough, the people behind mlb said the cgi made the show more dynamic???), this is why the pv has much more potential and i will never stop believing that.

(also why didn’t the cgi ever put in effort to make ladybug and chat noir look different than their normal selves. it’s the biggest fucking plot hole that never attempts to change. even the pv tries to make bridgette’s hair change.) (sorry for low quality but see, her hair is more messy too.)

thomas astruc and zag you’re just lazy money grabbing bastards 🗣️ i stand by that. if you’re truly passionate about what you want to do (which i believe you guys were until you weren’t), you wouldn’t have sacrificed quality for money.

“the concept of the original show dealt with political themes geared towards teens and young adults but it failed to gain traction with networks so it retooled for a younger audience.” other than the team failing to realise that “cliche” doesn’t automatically mean bad, the other huge fault is that they think children are stupid and can’t handle heavier themes. look at bluey, look at all the series out there with a relatively large children audience which also deal with such stuff. it’s not impossible, it just needs exceptional writing skills. but what can i expect from a team like that.

sorry not sorry, i’m pretty mad. i have a lot of other complaints but i already spent 2h writing this. down with thomas astruc!!!!! all hail ladybug pv!!!!!!