Littlest Pet Shop - Generation 1 Pets･ﾟﾟ･｡ᡣ𐭩

i always wake up in my dr because why would i wake up in a reality i don't want to be in? why would i be somewhere that doesn't align with my 4d? that's so silly. i exist in whatever reality i choose to exist in.

Mood after getting cheated on again🥰🥰

Chat how much aura did I lose ??

Never shooting my shot again 😭🔫

Bonus !! (My homeboy’s response)

Hey, let's talk about anons like this, because I know some people haven't been in a position to see the patterns these play out in on broader scale and may indeed not spot the trap.

And it is a trap.

An ask like this has several purposes.

First, it uses social justice language in passive aggressive and manipulative ways to try to coerce a behavior. In this case, the desired behavior is usually for the recipent to participate in community shunning and/or harrassment. The language above is intended to put the recipient on the defensive where, in the haste to disassociate themself from the Bad Thing, they quickly disassociate themself from the bad person, often with no particular fact checking or evidence.

The message is also intended to create a sense of being surveilled and judged by an unknown amount of people with unknown amount of social power and an unknown amount of relevance to your life.

Notice that these asks are usually framed as if they are coming from a follower or potential follower, someone who is addressing you personally and who cares about your opinion and who your blog has an effect on. However this is usually.... very much not the case. If you've ever had the misfortune to watch a gossip campaign from like this from the outside, you will very quickly notice that messages like this get sent in mass batches to dozens and dozens of strangers. (You can often turn these up with a tumblr search, if you look.)

The sender does not know you and probably does not follow you. They have a person they don't like (possibly for their stated reason and possibly not), and they are going through the reblogs of a post from that blog and mass messaging *everyone* with a form letter. They will not see your response and they will probably never even see your blog again.

Which brings us to the second goal of whisper campaigns like this:

Notice that I blacked out the names above? That's because when the recipient answers anonymous asks like this, they provide a platform for the opinion on their blog. An anonymous message like this that gets posted doesn't just spread gossip and apply pressure to the recipient, it is spread to the recipient's entire community.

The *goal* is to get access to your community. The *goal* is to use you as a soapbox.

Is the information accurate? Did anyone check? Does the anon have an ulterior social motive? BIG SHRUG

If you go into the comments on one of these whisper campaigns you will see that *most people never bother to check.*

They assume good faith from a follower, they're off balance defending themselves, and they jump straight to conciliation.

It's a really, really effective form of social manipulation, and really really commonly misused.

How to stop getting bored in a meditation no glue no borax

I'm gonna try shifting to MHA tonight, WISH ME LUCK CUZ I WANNA BE WITH MY POOKIES

Remarkable

Batfam x Neglected! Reader

Prologue

Part 2, Part 3

I know I usually post twisted wonderland works, but the idea of this story made me really excited, so please be kind.

You had spent your whole life trying to please your family.

You were a Wayne child, and although you knew certain things would always be expected of you, having your accomplishments ignored broke you.

You had lived almost your whole life with out your mother. She was a sweet kind woman with a troubled past. While you knew you had a father, you never knew who he was until her passing. When the state came to collect you they informed you that you’d be placed with your father, Bruce Wayne. Even though you lived outside of Gotham, you still knew who tech mogul and billionaire, Bruce Wayne, was. While you were quite shocked at who your father was, you still tried to comfort yourself with the idea of a warm and loving home, like your mother had always tried so hard to provide for you. Unfortunately once you arrived at the manor your hopes were dashed. While all your physical needs had been met your emotional ones were left completely ignored.

When you first arrived at the manor you tried your best to stay hopeful. You smiled and played the dutiful daughter hoping your father would notice you, and give you some sign of affection. Every test you took you received an A, every competition you entered you won a gold medal, but it still wasn’t enough. Your father would never acknowledge you, and your brothers gave you a cursory nod at best, or completely ignored your existence at worst. You just wanted to be loved, was that really too much to ask?

Apparently it was, because no matter how hard you tried everyone was always busy. Damian would sneer at you when you tried to start conversation, Tim would just walk by you, too sleep deprived to take time out of his day for you. Jason seemed to hold your relation to Bruce against you, and never showed you much good will. Your last hope was Dick. You thought for sure the golden boy of the family would care for you, but unfortunately you were wrong. Dick didn’t mean to ignore you, really, it’s just…you’re so…unremarkable. He honestly forgot you existed most days.

Your father wasn’t much of a difference either. He acknowledged your presence and would pay for any and all of your needs, but whenever you would ask for his attention he would never even look up from his papers. You were left alone to deal with your emptiness and grief even though you lived in a house full of people.

So that’s how your life went at Wayne manor for a very long time. You became content with your solitude and decided you rather enjoyed being a wall flower in the family. Even without their recognition or connections you still achieved a lot on your own through the power of networking and the natural charisma you had been blessed with. Everything would have continued that way if you hadn’t crossed paths with a man by the name of Harvey Dent .

Finally fucking shifted

A possessive & obsessive lover with a soft spot for me when?? WHEN

✤ FOREIGN AFFAIRS ✤

AN: So this is a fic that literally nobody asked for but I've had it in my drafts forever and I thought it would be a shame to waste the idea. Whoops. Enjoy. CW: Non-Con, Cunnilingus, Brief mentions of spitting in mouth and spanking, Threat of pregnancy, Sort of implied American reader but you could read it as any english speaking country, though there is a dig in there that is pretty much aimed at Americans,

It’s hard being a foreigner in a country where you can’t speak the language. Harder than you’d thought it would be when you moved halfway across the world for work.

Getting around is tough and it’s hard to remember all of the customs and formalities, but the worst part about living so far from home is how lonely it is.

At the beginning, you spent most nights curled up in your tiny apartment, crying and googling time differences to see your parents would be awake to call. Things haven’t changed much since then. You know a little more of the language but you're still lonely. You still haven't made any friends.

Well, unless you count your hot landlord who lives next door. 

He doesn’t speak a lick of english, but you don’t need to speak the same language to fuck.

You aren’t quite sure how your arrangement came to be. One minute you were handing him rent money and the next he was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. It doesn’t matter. You're content knowing that if he’s waiting on the staircase when you get home from work, it’s going to be a good night.

He’ll pull you down the hall, hands tangling in your hair and lips crashing against yours, fumbling clumsily with his keys to unlock the door to his apartment, all but kicking the door open and carrying you inside.

His kisses are hungry, greedy. Filled with a passion that you’ve never felt with boys back home. Maybe it’s just the fantasy-fulfillment aspect of having a hot foreign lover, but if he’s anything to go by, the rumors of men overseas being better at sex are definitely true.

Before you can even make it into the bedroom, your clothes are peeled off and shed on his kitchen floor. He's all over you the minute you’re naked, grabbing and touching you like he wants to commit the feeling to memory, worshiping every nook and cranny like he may never feel you again. 

You and him will somehow stumble into his bed in between hot kisses. Sometimes he’ll chase you playfully, sometimes he’ll lead you by the hand, sometimes he’ll scoop you up and throw you onto the mattress; mumbling something in his language that you don’t understand but sounds pretty hot regardless. 

Then he’ll climb on top of you and take you apart piece by piece. Suckling gently on your nipples while his fingers work your clit, nibbling little love bites on your thighs before lifting your hips so he can bury his face in your cunt, pressing teasing kisses down your body, mumbling what you assume to be praise of your figure in between each one. 

He just understands your body. He's attentive, a quick learner. It only took about a week of sleeping together for him to know exactly how to unravel you. He’s a generous lover. You’ve never slept with him without orgasming at least once. You’ve never had to fake an orgasm either, which is a massive improvement from the past men you’ve been with. 

It's not lost on you that the way he treats you is kind of strange for a fuck-buddy...

...But damn if it isn’t hot when he gets down on his knees and mumbles a prayer of adoration into your stomach.

Once it’s his turn to receive it can go one of two ways:

He’ll either be gentle, caressing you like fine china as he rolls his hips into yours, making love to you slowly, reverently, using your moans as a guide on how to touch you. He’ll cum with you, holding your hand as you both tumble over the edge, then pull you into his chest as the two of you come down and prepare for round two, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Or he’ll be rough and relentless. Pounding into you unforgivingly, tossing you into whatever position he pleases before fucking you hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. He’s quite kinky, you’ve learned. When he’s in these moods he likes spitting in your mouth and pulling your hair, calling you filthy names as you cum for the third time.

You’ve learned a few new words in his language since you met him: faster, slower, slut, fuck, and I’m going to cum.

Not very practical for day to day use but still nice to know.

Once the two of you are spent, you’ll shower and he’ll pour you a glass of wine, then you'll sit on his small balcony in silence, looking out at the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. 

It’s…nice. Peaceful. It’s strange that you feel so intimate with him when the only real conversation you’ve ever had was a google translated text message about rent. 

But just like any good drama with a foreign fling, it can't last forever. 

As great as he is in bed, this country isn’t your home. You miss your family and friends and being able to ask for directions without feeling like an idiot. You’ll miss him—no doubt lie in bed sometimes and wonder what he’s doing, if he still thinks of you—but it’s better this way. You don’t belong here, you never have.

You’re sitting on his balcony basking in afterglow about three weeks before you’re set to leave when you drop the news. It’s better sooner rather than later, you decide. It’s not like you could irish-goodbye him, he is your landlord.

“Leaving…” his brow knits. He says it like the word tastes sour in his mouth.

“Yeah, in three weeks.” you smile, holding up three fingers for clarification.

He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, shaking his head and mumbling something that you can’t understand. He looks…distressed. You hadn’t expected him to be thrilled by the news, but he looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

“Are you alri-”

“You aren’t leaving me.” he snaps, grabbing your wrist hard. Possessively, as if he’s nervous you might run away from him.

You're surprised by his hostility, but more so by the response he gave you. It was heavily accented and short, but it was grammatically correct English—something he’d never given any indication of knowing. 

“What are you-” 

You're cut off by a searing hot kiss. Ravenous and passionate, full of teeth and tongue—but not in the way they normally are. This one is… darker, like he’s trying to establish his dominance.

You squirm and try to push him off of you but he won’t let you go, fisting a hand in your hair to hold you in place as his mouth claims yours.

“Did we mean nothing?” he asks, backing you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head, “We’ve been making love for months and you want to leave?”

“English…” your eyes tear up as he nips at your neck, “I thought you…”

“I’ve known it the whole time,” he lets out a small laugh of amusement. “They teach us English in school. We actually have good education here.” You cry, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he alternates between making out and nibbling at your neck, “I thought you'd think it was romantic, having a foreign lover.”

Each kiss steals your breath, makes you dizzy. He licks his lips, eying you hungrily, “I was going to pretend to learn english for you. I thought it would be a cute story to tell our children…”

Your eyes widen. Children? He wants to have kids-

Your thoughts are interrupted by him rising to his feet, hoisting you up with him and walking you to his bed. He tosses you on the mattress, climbing on top of you, hissing something quietly in his language that you don’t understand as he rocks his hard erection against your thigh.

“You aren’t leaving.” he growls, “I’ll handcuff you to this damn bed if I have to. There is nothing where you came from that you don’t have here”

You writhe as he kisses down your torso, bucking and squirming, trying to push him off of you. He tugs your hips down with a growl, sinking his fingers into the squishy flesh to keep you from moving. 

“P-please…” streams of tears roll down your cheeks as he tugs down your pants, “M-my home… My family.”

“This is your home now,” he growls, holding you down with one hand, fumbling with his pants with the other, taking out his hard penis.

He chuckles to himself in amusement and lines up with your hole, murmuring the next part in against your swollen lips as he pushes himself in.

“And I’m gonna make you a brand new family tonight.”

You once heard that foreign men are better lovers. 

Guess it depends on which one you run into.

suguru geto, satoru gojo, levi ackerman, eren jaeger, bakugo katsuki, keigo takami, shouto todoroki, atsumu miya, osamu miya, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, kiyomi sakusa, keishin ukai, cameron beck