#(I don't know man I just personally think the entire was so stupid and clear indication that the writers had no idea what to do for finale

[thewertsearch]

KARKAT: AND HERE I THOUGHT THE NEW PLAN WAS GOING TO BE SOMETHING INCREDIBLY STUPID AND SUICIDAL. KARKAT: DID I SAY OH YET? KARKAT: BECAUSE THAT'S THE SOUND I MAKE WHEN I'M FUCKING RELIEVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GAMZEE: honk. KARKAT: WHAT. GAMZEE: HONK.

Isn't it so awesome that Gamzee's still using his post-breakdown typing quirk? I personally think it's extremely awesome, and my guard is now 100% lowered. I trust this clown, you guys.

Jokes aside, it's incredibly strange that no one has even glanced at what is presumably an extremely blood-soaked teenage juggalo for this entire conversation. I imagine Gamzee's using his Rage powers again, concealing himself from everyone's perception so they don't raise the topic of restraining or imprisoning him.

It's damn creepy, is what it is. Gamzee's clearly still up to something, frenzy or no frenzy.

KARKAT: I WILL SHOOSH YOU AGAIN, SO HELP ME GOD. I WILL SHOOSH YOUR CLOWN ASS TO SHANGRI-BULLSHIT-LA AND BACK, AND FILL YOUR EAR WITH MY WHITE HOT PALEBRO SPITTLE. [...] DAVE: man what the hell even happened on this meteor anyway DAVE: actually dont even tell me

I understand the sentiment, Dave, but you probably do want to know what happened here. It'll let you know who you need to steer clear of, during this three-year journey.

KARKAT: CALL ME CRAZY, BUT IT'S KIND OF HARD TO RELAX WITHIN A STONE'S THROW FROM, OH, I GUESS ONLY THE BIGGEST FUCKING STAR ANY MORTAL HAS EVER LAID EYES ON. KANAYA: Actually I Was Just Thinking KANAYA: Its Nice To Get A Little Sun After So Long

Aww, I never thought about that.

Kanaya loves sunlight, and she's been stuck in a sunless dimension for almost a month. Even worse, she about to be stuck in a different sunless dimension for at least three years.

Forget about weapons - what these kids really need to alchemize are some Vitamin D supplements.

KARKAT: IT'S SO BRIGHT, I NEED SUNGLASSES OR SOMETHING. KARKAT: QUICK, WHICH ONE OF YOU AWESOME DUDES HAS A RADICAL PAIR OF SHADES I CAN BORROW??? KANAYA: One Moment

...oh, god.

Sorry, I was about to start laughing about Kanaya being Karkat's mom friend, but then I remembered....

...it wouldn't be the first time.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I want to thank my Lord and savior Tom Cardy for posting a song that has the exact vibe I wanted for the relationship of ps8!Lance/ps8!Allura with an oc I have for this au

[ladyempty]

Yandere Maegor, Daemon and Aegon I reaction to Reader running away and marrying someone else and having children?? Please 😭😭

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. | ° | English is not my first language. |

Aegon I

Aegon Targaryen I is the definition of a conqueror, courageous, intelligent and ambitious, with a friendly and captivating personality, easily lovable and admirable, but with few close friends. A certain air of enigma surrounded his figure, making people try to unravel him, attracted like moths by his light of monarchical dignity.

The king was comfortable and accustomed to sycophants, women dragging themselves for crumbs, or simply a single night in his bed. He was unfamiliar with something denied to him. He had "conqueror" in his name for a reason that went far beyond the submission of the other lords.

So it came as a complete shock when he was so bluntly denied when he approached you at one of the numerous banquets hosted by the royal family. At first, Aegon couldn't even process it, the features remained the same with a gentle smile and analyzing eyes and no words uttered. Like a person who was suddenly punched and in the first few seconds didn't understand or simply didn't know how to react. He just narrowed his purple eyes and watched you leave in an elegant bow.

The first time he was seriously denied, you hadn't done it to pique his interest, but rather to preserve your own honor, not wanting to be just another king's case knowing that he would return to Rhaenys at the end of the day. He admired this. If his plans were to push him away, you were not successful, you only made a dangerous obsession settle in your being.

He began to pursue you subtly, with gallant and courteous gestures, he urgently wanted to erase the first impression you had of him. Forcing the Targaryen to reveal his personality beyond the superficial, rambling for countless hours about some common interest and constantly summoning his presence, whether to read to him while I work or simply enjoy his warm presence.

And when his barriers were still not lowered, the king had to resort to more drastic measures, asking for her hand in marriage and making it clear that he would not accept being denied.

You would be softer when you were a wife and had duties towards him. The conqueror thought wrongly. Never in a thousand lifetimes did he expect you to run away. As soon as he found out, Aegon simply went crazy, the image made up of himself falling down the moment he threatened to destroy the entire seven kingdoms again if he didn't get you back.

Stone by stone, leaf by leaf. Everything was meticulously investigated by the countless guards spreading even through the most forgotten places by the gods. The Targaryen king became somewhat paranoid and easily irritated by his disappearance, not even Rhaenys could calm him down or change his mind. It was two years of pure torment.

Ah... When he finally found you in a small house in pentos... Married and obviously pregnant... It was like the world was open beneath your feet again. A loving feeling of betrayal. How dare you? Did you think that pathetic man could love you more than him?! How stupid.

He coldly killed her husband and none of her tears and pleas could change his mind. His heart was partially darkened by his betrayal. He won't forget anytime soon, you'll have to regain his trust to have the slightest amount of freedom. Countless guards will follow you closely, if you are even allowed to leave your quarters.

And your son? Don't worry, Aegon will assume paternity of the child even if it comes with rumors about having deflowered you before the wedding. It didn't matter. He just wouldn't let you mother a bastard or have that other man as a part of your life. Aenys was his heir anyway.

Maegor, The Cruel

You were certainly a very unlucky person to have caught the attention of the Targaryen king who was called cruel. You probably met at an event organized by him to celebrate one of his conquests, reaffirming his power and sovereignty as king, or you were one of his wives' ladies-in-waiting.

Whether you were from a big house, small house or even a commoner. It didn't matter. You were his the moment the king laid eyes on your enchanting figure.

Maegor was a man of few feelings, he didn't truly love any of his wives, it was lust mixed with the rational thought of creating heirs. But you were different, there was something special that made Maegor feel a bubbling sensation in his chest, a pleasant and addictive warmth like he had never felt before. It was something unfamiliar, one that he felt slightly hesitant to demonstrate or how to handle. But he just knew he wanted you and he would have you. At any cost.

Maegor was far from the definition of courteous, he knew little about the gallant arts or gentle love. Therefore, he had little knowledge about the courtship, the little he knew was from his mother's advice, who only knew about these things from the poets who surrounded Rhaenys.

Either way, he is not discreet. He doesn't even make an effort to appear less intimidating than he is. His eyes are fixed on you no matter the moment, his intimidating and darkening presence looming over you like a shadow. Once he even gave him a white fur coat, an animal he himself killed. It was his way of showing his interest. Something raw and rustic, without words, just proves to be worthy of you.

Either way, he wouldn't wait long. The moment he gets tired of waiting and the itch that grows in him is not relieved, he will attack. Demanding her hand in marriage from her, leaving no room for disagreement. He didn't expect you to run away in the middle of the night... Stupid little bird. Did you think he wouldn't come after you?

The man flew into a rage the moment he found out, destroying everything and everyone in his path, no matter if they were his wives, servants or important masters. Everyone should pay for his blinding rage. He turned the seven kingdoms into hell looking for you. A thick layer of blood, smoke, ash and corpse covering every corner of the kingdom.

And when he found you... Ah, dumb little bird, did he think he could hide for another year? Never.

He killed her husband the moment he saw the man, not even bothering to give him a painful death to pay for his crimes. He was as furious as a bull at the sight of any trace of red. He never thought about seriously hurting you, but he would have to punish you in a certain way to put you in your place. But his angry thoughts strayed the moment he caught sight of her swollen belly with a child.

A baby, that could and should be his. It was someone else's... It was an unforgivable betrayal. He could never fully forgive you. He would never forget or leave you alone for even a second.

He wouldn't kill the child, he would keep you away until you gave birth and then pretend that the child belonged to his lady-in-waiting, even if it was his child behind closed doors. It was a good way to keep tabs on you. Do you love your child? So better obey, you don't want something bad to happen, right?

Do not worry, dear. If you want to be a mother and wife so much, who would Maegor be to deny you that? You would be two things very soon.

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon was never a man to love madly, he fell in love a few times. He rolled from bed to bed without a fixed commitment, just looking for momentary fun and vague pleasures. He indulged in his desires without shame. Bad luck for you to have been so captivating. He was hooked on you the moment their eyes met his.

Any slight affection he ever had for other women and men was forgotten. For you he felt love. Real love that went beyond lust. After all, he had never touched you intimately and he already had such overwhelming feelings.What was it if not love? You were his only thought.The first thought when waking up and the last when going to bed.

And Daemon had no intention of hiding his affection. His hands constantly find their way to your shoulders or start from your waist, a touch that lingers on a simple handshake and a look so intense that it would make anyone else tremble in fear.

As expected, rumors were created questioning his honor and how terrible the prince was. When his father went to confront him, Daemon just smiled mischievously and just said he would marry you. To everyone's great surprise, after all, the Targaryen had demonstrated his unhappiness during his first marriage.

But you weren't like that woman uglier than a sheep. You were perfect in every aspect and in the very definition of the word. Something to be admired every day.

It was a strong, stunning blow when you disappeared during the night, your maids only finding cold, wrinkled sheets when they went to wake you up that morning.

Where in the seven hell were you? He would find you... You couldn't run away.

He destroyed, killed, tortured and threatened. He spent days flying with Caraxes to every corner of the seven kingdoms just to find you. Unsuccessfully. A long year without having your favorite addiction... You.

He drowned himself in e wine while you were gone, nursing a bubbling rage and constantly exploding at everyone, scaring even Viserys, who thought he had seen the worst side of his brother.

But nothing lasts forever. He found you. He invaded your home in Essos without hesitation. He didn't kill your husband at first because his stunned mind simply refused to understand that you had betrayed him in such a disgusting way.

But the moment she saw the little newborn baby in her arms. He understood everything.The black sister ran through her pathetic husband without mercy, blood spatter staining his robes in small crimson droplets.The cold, darkened eyes like never before were directed at you.

For a moment you feared for the baby's life, placing the small bundle against your chest to protect it.

"Don't worry, I would never hurt our son." He smiles as he says each word slowly. He would legitimize that child as his and didn't care what he would say. A good way to keep you behaved and not tarnish his bloodline with bastards. Obviously he would love his own children more with you, but he wouldn't show it so openly. You're lucky the child looks so much like you…

[fanfics-for-you]

what's in a name? || Patrick Verona (TTIHAY) x gn!reader (Modern!College!AU)

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (SOON)

Inspiration: ✨️Patrick Verona✨️

Summary: Patrick Verona is apparently the most intimidating guy on campus. You just want to get by, pass your classes, and get to your actual dreams. When you casually approach him one day and decidedly are not scared of him, Patrick has some questions.

TWs: light language, use of Y/N (only like twice), second person POV (you, yours).

[[A/N: This is basically under the concept that you approach Patrick first, and aren't really as afraid of him as anybody else. He's intrigued. Also this is a college AU, because I am in college and I think it's weird to write about high school lmao. ALSO,,, I know this is incredibly niche and a dead tag, but... I watched the movie recently and was violently possessed to write this. The parasites in me what to continue this universe, but idk. Anyway. Enjoy :)]]

You were exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

You'd stayed up all night for your chem quiz, and still, didn't think you did great on it. Which made your day ever so worse. So, when you went to the library, and someone was sitting in the spot you always sat in, you halfway wanted to cry and halfway wanted to rip your hair out. Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but today it was. So, with a certainty that rivaled a lawyer in court, you stomped over to the chair.

For a moment, the guy didn't even look at you. He kept staring at his friend, a surprisingly 'metal' dressing guy who was talking avidly about something.

You cleared your throat.

That's when they both looked at you.

You were entirely focused on the one in your seat. A taller guy with built shoulders, curly hair and a sharp jaw. In normal circumstances, you'd probably think he was hot. Today was not normal circumstances.

The man raised an eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe it was a little normal circumstances, but that wasn't relevant.

"What are you doing?"

The man answered, simply -maybe a little confused, "Sitting?"

"That's my spot," you clarified, pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" the man pretended to start getting up before pausing -speaking sarcastically, "-Oh wait, I've just remembered, this is public property."

Mindlessly noting that he had an accent that you couldn't quite place, you rolled your eyes, "I sit there everyday. Just give me the spot."

"You weren't sitting here all day," he pointed out, "-or else I wouldn't be here."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, "I was busy failing a chem test, now get up."

His eyes skimmed over your face, thoughtfully, "Do you know who I am?"

"Why-" you sighed out, frustrated, "-would I know who you are?"

Even despite the comment, he did seem familiar somehow but you weren't going to tell him that.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and didn't say anything. You felt like you were going to explode in fiery flames.

You groaned, "Oh my god. There are thousands of seats on campus, just go sit somewhere else."

"Exactly," the man countered, "-why don't you sit somewhere else?"

"Because-" you huffed out a breath, "-that's my spot."

"And why is this spot so important to you?" He shuffled slightly, moving his hands along the cracks of the seat, "-You got something good stashed in 'ere?"

"Dear god," you huffed out a breath in defeat, "-Whatever. Enjoy your seat, asshole."

And with that, you spun on your heel and pulled yourself deeper into the library. Taking a breath in, you pulled yourself into a seat not too far from the original, but you were around the corner so you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face. You soured just at the thought.

You pulled open your chem book, and read through it -trying to figure out which ones you definitely missed, that way you could get the ballpark for what your grade might be. You really needed to know, to make sure your GPA stayed in the range for your dream university.

But, in the middle of it, you heard someone plop into the chair in front of you (it was a group of chairs, like for a group of people if necessary).

Before looking up, you spoke -sharply, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Your eyes shot up at that familiar accent, and you frowned.

"You got the seat," you pointed out, bitterly, "-What the hell do you want now?"

"Your name," he answered simply.

You blinked, (what?) before settling back into your seat and flipping to the next page, "Yeah, no."

The man seemed to move forward, and unwillingly your eyes flickered to him (his curls moving with the motion), "Why not?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," you retorted -flicking your eyes down to your book, "-especially not assholes."

"Don't know if I can change who I am," he smirked, "-but, I can work on the stranger part."

You frowned, eyeing him particularly, "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I already told you," he replied, fidgeting with something in his hands (you weren't paying attention), "-I'm Patrick, by the way."

"Well," you exhaled, sharply, and ignored his name, "-you're not getting it."

"Well," he repeated with the same sort of grin, "-I'll just have to work on that too, then."

You looked up at him again and squinted at him -trying to read him somehow. All he did was grin at you, a charming kind, of course, that made crinkles on his cheeks. You ignored the flutter in your chest that it gave you and darted your eyes back down to your book.

The next day, you were in better spirits. After studying for an entirely different class, you were pretty sure you aced that test. So, you weren't as pissed, thankfully. Until you went into the library to sit between classes like you always did.

You paused in your step and frowned.

The guy (Patrick, your mind treacherously noted) was sitting by your chair, mindlessly tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. He wasn't in your chair, thankfully, but still, he was in the one beside it. Pointedly close.

You huffed out a breath, and moved toward the chairs, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he repeated.

You raised an eyebrow.

He seemed to take that as a repeat of the question -before saying, confidently (too confidently), "I'm studying for a test."

"You don't seem like the studying type," you retorted, throwing yourself into the chair and pulling out your laptop -realizing it was no use to try and get him to leave.

Patrick pointed out, "You don't even know me."

"And I don't intend to," you replied with ease, flicking your eyes to meet his, "-your point?"

He grinned the same bright one from before, amused maybe. Your heart skipped a beat, so you dropped your eyes back down to your laptop. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to look away.

"What's your major?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"I won't tell you my name," you leveled, scrolling through your online schedule for homework, "-but you think I'll tell you my major?"

"Well," he reasoned, "-a name is much more identifiable, but your major," he shrugged, "-not so much."

You eyed him again for a second, before saying, "What if you just want to look up my classes and hunt me down?"

Patrick smiled again, before asking, "What is your next class?"

"Why?" You ask, pointedly, "-So you can force me into talking to you again?"

"Preferably," he replied, grinning cheekily.

You raised an eyebrow, and bit your lip to pull down a smile that begged to quirk up, "I'm not telling you that either."

"What if I just follow you when you leave?" He questioned, curiously, "-Figure it out myself?"

"And what if I-" you smiled at him -patronizingly, "-call the campus police?"

He raised both eyebrows as if to say 'touché' without saying it out loud. You bit down another smile and moved back to your computer -pulling out your planner and jotting down dates.

"Your pissiness," he suddenly spoke, "-Are you often filled with boiling hatred?"

"No," you sigh out, before shooting him another patronizing smile, "-that's special just for you."

He laughed then, and something warm zinged down to your toes (you ignored it), "Do you seriously not know me?"

"Do you know how many Patricks exist in the world?" you point out, "-No, I don't know you."

"So you do remember my name," he smirked, patting along his lap with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but didn't say a word.

It ended up like that for the rest of the time, Patrick shooting questions now and then, and you shutting them down. His stupid smirk and low, rumbly, accented voice, you hated that he actually seemed kinda nice -all things considered.

But, as you stood up to leave, you decided on something.

"Literature," you said simply, gathering up everything into your bag.

He paused, shooting up his eyebrows, "What?"

"My next class," you answered, nonchalantly pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "-Intro to Literature."

Patrick grinned, bright and shiny, "Gen Ed?"

"Yeah," you answered, moving to put the last few things in your bag.

"Can I walk you?"

Your eyes snapped to him then, curiously -detailing the rather honest look, before answering solidly, "No."

He burst into laughter then, throwing his head back against the chair -you mindlessly watched his curls fall back with the motion and then snapped your eyes away.

"Same time tomorrow then?" He asked, still laughing a little bit (something in you twinkled).

"Nope," you exhale a breath, ignoring the disappointment that swirled into your chest, "-I'm not on campus tomorrow."

He seemed to falter for a second, "Do you live on campus?"

You raised a solid eyebrow, you really think I'd tell you that?

"Right, yeah, okay," Patrick conceded, holding up his hands in faux surrender, "-What days are you on campus?"

You paused, pressing your lips together, but something in you did it, "Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays."

He grinned a little brighter, "Are you here around the same time on Mondays?"

Something in your chest flipped, but even still, you answered, "That's what you have to figure out. Not me."

And then, you spun on your heel and walked out of the library. His laughter trailed out behind you, and if you had a small little smile on your face at the noise, that was only for you to know.

Monday came, and you woke up early and made your way to campus -the first class of the day was at the crack of dawn. You physically despised it, but so is the schedule of a college student. Plus, you still worked, so the earlier the better for your schedule -didn't mean it didn't suck though.

Sipping on your drink, you wandered back toward the cafeteria -crossing the main connecting area, where everything led to. There was a baseball game going on, not an official one by the looks of it, in the grass. Your eyes hinged on the game for a few seconds, the echoes of laughter shooting toward your ears. It looked fun, but you weren't too invested in being outside for that long. Before you could look away though, your eyes caught on a familiar frame.

Patrick.

His hair was tied back, and he was wearing a pretty bland tank top (just grey), with some typical jeans. With his hair pulled back, you could see his jaw more distinctively -the sharp lines clear from even this far away. (Not that you were looking.) The sun bore down on them but all of the players seemed to be happily distracted. And you kinda were too.

You pursed your lips, for a moment, and looked forward again after a breath, heading toward the cafeteria again confidently.

Before you could get very far, though, you heard a familiar accent.

"Hey!" He yelled, a little distant -footsteps following his voice, "-Hey!"

At first, you weren't sure if he was talking to you, so you kept moving.

"Shit, I don't know what to call you," he called out, breathless and much, much closer.

You spun on your heels with furrowed brows, and met his eyes over a few people's heads. The grin that swallowed his face whole should've been criminal, bright and twinkly and... charming.

Before you could say anything, he was by your side with heavy breaths -assumedly from playing baseball and getting over to you. Leaning over slightly, he leveled out heavy breaths. You were almost concerned enough to offer him water, but he seemed to settle himself before you could.

"Hi," he echoed, "-'Ve been looking for you all morning, what time did you get here?"

You blinked, all morning?

"I get here early, 7, and immediately go to class," you answered, a little blankly (looking for you, looking for you, looking for you).

"Oh," he paused, "-I got here at 8. There's classes at 7?"

"Obviously," you respond, because you did in fact just say it.

"Did you-" Patrick started, before pursing his lips together, "-Are you going to the library now?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat between classes. Why?"

"I'm actually quite hungry myself," he avoided the question, "-Do you mind if I tag along?"

"What about your game?" You furrowed your eyebrows even further -eyeing him curiously.

"'S just to fill time," he explained, "-It's nothing serious. They're sure to find someone to fill in for me."

You flicker your eyes along his face, trying to read him. What's your prerogative?

After a moment, you come up with nothing and instead, just turn on your heel -leading the way to the cafeteria.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then?" Patrick called out from behind you, catching up and matching your stride with ease (despite you making no move to slow down).

You decidedly don't answer him, and say something focused elsewhere -eyeing him as you walk forward, "Do you always stalk people this much?"

Patrick laughed, catching your eye with his warm brown ones (they were almost sparkly under the sun of the day), "Only the ones that blindly hate me."

You pressed your lips together in a flat line (trying not to give anything away), "I didn't say that I hated you."

His face lit up at the words (and you couldn't decide if you regretted it or not), "Well, you could've convinced me."

You roll your eyes, and keep walking forward, "Not telling you my personal information isn't... hating you."

"I'm not sure not introducing yourself is exactly anything but hatred," he argued back, fluidly.

"I just told you that I don't hate you," you point out, "-so it isn't."

"Does that mean you'll eventually tell me your name?" Patrick asked, curiously.

You turned to him, flicked your eyes over him, and then looked forward again, "Maybe on good behavior."

He burst into laughter, brown eyes set on your face, "You're quite an enigma, you know that?"

"And you're not half the mystery you portray," you fire back, naturally, with the flow of the conversation.

He grinned at that, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite label, "You know, I don't think I've met a person like you. You're fearless in like a-" he motioned with his hands, "-casual way."

"I'm not fearless," you argue, approaching the door to the cafeteria, "-I'm just confident."

"Do they not go hand-in-hand?" Patrick offers, getting to the door before you and promptly holding it open for you -unflinchingly.

Something warm stirs in your stomach at the gesture (and his woodsy scent that brushes your nose as you walk past him), but you ignore it, "You can be certain and still be afraid."

"But knowing you're right doesn't necessarily mean-" Patrick followed you in, matching your stride again, as if it's natural, "-that you're confident."

You furrow your eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, "What do you mean?"

He paused, maybe a little shocked by your attentiveness, "Plenty of people know they're right and still concede to someone else because they don't want to fight it. You-" he pointed at you, "-will fight it."

"Well," you purse your lips, avoiding his eye contact, "-maybe I'm only like this with you."

"You," Patrick paused, "-You're not this fiery ball of rage with anyone else?"

You eye him for a second, before saying flatly, "Maybe."

"All of this seething hatred and impressive indifference just for me?" He grins, the big teeth-showing kind, "-I'm touched really. Because I am special to you in some weird kinda twisted way-"

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh at his words -just a quick one. Barely there.

But you could still see the delight smooth along his face, and just knew he caught it.

"How much of that have you been holding back?" He tilted his head curiously, before continuing to push it, smirking, "-Oh I bet you think I'm hilarious."

Your heart skipped a beat at the smirk, and you simply pressed your lips together and turned on your heel to the food counter. There wasn't even a second before you heard footsteps following you.

"You're not denying it, you know," he called after you, close on your tail.

You peer over the selection of food, eyeing the different items thoughtfully, "But I didn't confirm it either."

"Still not denying it," Patrick hummed, sing-songy.

"You know," you turn to him (mindlessly noting that he is very close), sharply, "-someone can have one good joke and still be unfunny."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes set on yours -challenging, "Then tell me why it came out like you were holding it back?"

You blinked at him, once and then twice, the sudden closeness sent a shock through your brain and the challenging tone of his voice nearly gave you full-body shivers. You can't find words to say, and you can nearly see it processing on Patrick's face (the way that he had made your mind melt for a moment), so you turn to the counter and point at something random for them to pick out for you.

The woman eyes the two of you suspiciously, but still diligently pulls out a to-go plate and piles the... mashed potatoes onto it.

"Oh my god," he finally says after a moment (you ignore it).

You go through a few other items, and the woman gathers them onto the plate. You pay, grab your plate-

"You like me," Patrick retorts, and you're not even looking at him but you can tell he's got a shit-eating grin.

Your brain malfunctions for a moment, but you step toward the tables and fire back (on autopilot), "I won't even tell you my name."

He's hot on your trail, following you diligently, "You're avoiding the question."

You spin to him, and reply -sharply, "You didn't ask a question."

His eyes flicker along your face, taking you in (you want to squirm but you steel yourself in place -your eyes now challenging), and then he grins so bright that you'd need sunglasses in any other scenario.

"Oh, you're really into me," he continues, low, gravelly, accented voice rumbling through your ears.

You screw up your face into something defiant, roll your eyes, and turn back to slide into a table. Patrick follows you like a lost puppy. Well, an incredibly arrogant lost puppy.

"You're still not denying it," he slides into the chair beside you and you hate the way your brain swims at the woodsy smell that brushes your nose.

"'Thought you were hungry," you say, simply (avoiding the question and decidedly not denying).

"It was very obviously a ploy," Patrick chimed back, with natural ease -tilting his head slightly and looking at you with twinkling eyes, "-They had pizza out there for all the players. I've already eaten."

Your fork froze for a millisecond (even still, you were sure he caught it), and after a moment, you pulled it to your lips. Maybe conquering both of your lack of response and the way your mind lit up at the idea of 'he just wanted to see me'.

His smile and eyes seemed to soften slightly, as he leaned his head down to catch your eye and guide it back up to your natural gaze (your heart skipped a beat). His brown eyes were soft and if you were honest, maybe a little affectionate.

"What's your name?" He finally said after a soft few moments.

And just like that, for you, the moment snapped, and you rolled your eyes -turning back to your food.

"Oh, come on," Patrick tried to catch your gaze again, "-Look, I'll tell you. Patrick Verona. That's my name-"

You bit down a smile, as he motioned to you with his hands.

"-Now, your turn, tell me yours."

You raised an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a half-laugh, before leaning forward slightly on the table -not quite a breath away, but certainly closer.

"You're so stubborn," he laughed, "-I'll beg. You want me to beg?"

You can't help but let the smile slip onto your lips then, "Why would you beg for my name?"

"Because I want it," he pointed out, still grinning "-Because I want to know you, and personally, I think it should start with a name."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you let your fork hang there on the path to your face. You took a moment, scampered your eyes along his face (dark brown eyes so incredibly soft, curls coming down from where he put them up in individual tendrils). Your resolve was weakening, it was really and truly broken under Patrick Verona's hand.

Stupid pretty boys-

"Y/N," you said finally (quieter than intended), immediately pulling a bite to your mouth.

Patrick blinked, "What?"

"'S my name," you explain -shortly, moving a hand in front of your mouth as you chew, "-Y/N."

His eyes lit up at the words, that stupid charming grin smoothing onto his face as he repeated, softer than expected, "Y/N."

You shove down the fluster that begs to climb up your cheeks at his accented voice saying your name. It's something you'd never really thought about but now that it's said, you probably should've thought about it.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, eyes still set on you. He was still grinning, as he said simply, "Suits you."

You furrow your eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raises his hands in faux surrender, laughing to himself, "Jesus, you're a true ball of rage, you know 'at?"

"I'm not-" you huff out, and take a deep breath in, "-I'm not mad."

"Defensive then," he mends, "-You act as though I'm about to strike any minute."

You pursed your lips, "Whose to say you aren't?"

"Me," Patrick laughs, "-This entire conversation. The way I've acted around you since the beginning-"

"Oh, shut up," you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your lips, "-you were an asshole once."

He groaned, but something like amusement was twinkling in his eyes, "You are the most stubborn human being on this earth-"

"You took my spot," you interrupt, sturdy.

"-It's public property," Patrick argued back, "-and how was I supposed to know it was yours before I sat in it?"

You paused, for a moment, before saying, "You couldn't. But, you could have given it to me when I asked."

"And then we wouldn't be here," he explained, now fully grinning, "-and wouldn't that just be such a bore."

Your eyes swam over his face a moment, Patrick Verona. And his dumb persistence. And his stupid handsome face-

God.

You let out a long sigh, picking around at your food. Eyes watching the swirl of your fork, you debate a few different things to say. Finally, after a few spare seconds, you made up your mind.

"Yeah," you hum, flickering your eyes up to his, "-it would."

Patrick grinned, big and bright and twinkly (you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest). His eyes, the deep brown that if you weren't careful you could stare at for way too long, were soft but still sort of happy, eager. Definitely eager.

And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to-

"I told you I could work on the 'stranger' thing," he suddenly said, smirking, "-You never should've doubted me."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You said-" Patrick explained, "-you don't give your name out to strangers. And I said I could work on that part-"

You level a look at him.

"-And look, I did," he continued, before adding with a smirk, "-I have successfully escaped the cavernous barrier, deeper than the ocean I'd say, that walls you off from any poor soul who wishes to know you-"

"You're really pushing it, Verona," you chime back, fiery (but not quite all the way).

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, like he said nothing at all to warrant the reaction, "-You can't tell me that it's not like pulling teeth getting to know you. Or trying to anyway-"

You press your lips onto a flat line, "Wow, you must be a sort of masochist, then?

He faltered for a second, before laughing a little, "Oh absolutely, I chase the high of you ignoring me for 2 hours straight every day."

You rolled your eyes, biting down a smile, "I despise you."

"Better that than indifferent," he responded with ease, "-I prefer you feeling something rather than nothing at all."

"Oh my god-"

It continued like that, a back and forth, as you finish eating your mediocre cafeteria lunch. The silence is sparse but not uncomfortable when Patrick isn't running his mouth, that is. It was nice. Insanely nice. You'd probably never had as much fun on this campus as you did with him, just in general, but...

"Same time Wednesday?" He poses with a cheeky grin, leaning onto one hand against the table -closer to you than before.

You felt something warm swirl into your stomach, as your eyes flickered over his face. He was still smiling, like he wasn't able to stop when he was here with you. And something in you never wanted to see it go away anyway.

So, with a slight head tilt and a brighter grin than what you'd let slip past all day, you repeated.

"Same time Wednesday."

[doberbutts]

There's also this Gamer Behavior (derogatory) where I see these folks going off the rails about having a meltdown because of something that is 100% optional.

Taash exists as a nonbinary romance option. They have optional side quests regarding their exploration of their nonbinary identity. You 100% do not have to do any of this and can in fact ignore Taash 99% of the time and the worst that will happen is MAYBE not getting the exact ending you wanted from the final battle. Maybe. Because you don't have to send Taash at all if you make other character choices.

But cue freak out over the game forcing you to gender them correctly and forcing them as a romance onto you etc etc. I did not romance Taash and found it quite easy to not pursue that option actually. I did do their character side quests but only because if I'm paying that much money for a game I'm doing alllllll the things including the optional stuff.

You have the option of top surgery scars and colored hair and more in the character creator. You can just as easily not have these things on your character and instead look like something else. You do not need to put any character traits on your character that you don't want to.

But cue freak out about normalizing mental illness and transgender traits and SJW aesthetic. It's woke now. Top surgery scars are by default turned off and you have to locate it within the menu and then press buttons to turn them on. Somehow that is seen as forcing them onto the player.

You have the option of romancing a man and a nonbinary character as Yasuke. To be entirely clear there are also women available for Yasuke and in order to romance the other two you have to like, deliberately put forth effort into chasing them. This is not a Gale BG3 situation where being mildly nice to him turns him into an incel that refuses to leave you alone- it very clearly lays out that if you choose these options this character will take it as pursuit of a romance. The easiest option is to simply not do that.

But cue freak out about how Ubisoft is forcing the gay agenda on you and making you be gay and witness gay things. You literally do not have to do this. There's even a setting which you can turn off romance options entirely. If it bothers you that much, you can skip over it completely, or go kiss a different person besides either of the queer romances.

Within the game itself you don't really have to play as Yasuke outside of a very limited number of quests. You can actually play entirely as Naoe and ignore that Yasuke exists for the bulk of the game. Naoe is the much more Assassin's Creed style character as she relies heavily on stealth tactics and does poorly when outnumbered and surrounded (ask me how I know lmao) compared to Yasuke who is much more an Eivor situation of a wrecking ball in combat but sucks at parkour and stealth.

But cue freak out about how these guys think it's stupid that a 6ft tall black dude built like a wall of muscle would be in a stealth game. Yeah uh the game actually tells you straight up that if you want to do stealth you need to be Naoe because Yasuke kinda doesn't blend in. "How is this guy standing on rooftops not being seen" he actually goes get spotted and quite readily on every difficulty except the easiest because the man is 6 feet tall with nearly jet black skin and that sort of is a bit out of place in a setting like idk feudal Japan. You can switch between them- so once the game opens up and gives you the option you genuinely can just ignore Yasuke if you want to play as the series-typical assassin instead of the RPG tank.

Really the problem is that these Gamers (derogatory) have a difficult time with "other people besides you like playing these games" because they already have what they are asking for but they're mad that there is the option to do something they specifically dislike.

[firestorm09890]

figured out something I’ve been idly spinning on for a long time while assigning pokemon to the sinners, of all things

It’s about Meursault

I believe his Canto will be about dehumanization. Again. Even though we’ve already seen it multiple times and will probably see it even more. But hey, Limbus Company is a game about the experience of living in this bitch of a world despite it all and dehumanization is a struggle that comes in many forms.

It might be obvious that his canto would do that, considering the murder, but I actually think the discussion of how his victim, whoever it may have been (since The City seems to be over our version of racism and colonialism in favor of… other shit + Classism EX), was not treated as an equal class of citizen as Meursault (this is actually false. more on that next paragraph), will be secondary to Meursault’s own dehumanization.

In his source, he, a settler in French Algiers, kills an unnamed Arab. It is clear that any other white settler would have gotten away with it with a slap on the wrist- the court expected his trial to go quickly and for the main event of the day to be a different trial- but Meursault in particular is not afforded that privilege because the court believes him to be inhuman for- you guessed it- not crying at his mother's funeral. And also being an atheist and going out with his girlfriend the day after that funeral and asking for a cigarette when he wasn't supposed to and only a tiny bit the part where he shot the corpse 4 times, the point is it's over the stupid stuff not the stuff that matters

“[The prosecutor] said that he had peered into [my soul] and that he had found nothing, gentlemen of the jury. He said the truth was that I didn’t have a soul and that nothing human, not one of the moral principles that govern men’s hearts, was within my reach.”

In other words, this is a narrative about how quickly someone who you might think is part of the in-group can be cast out. He’s The Stranger, if you will.

N Corp is the Wing that values the concept of "humanity" perhaps the most in the entire City and I'm certain he has history with that view working to his detriment.

What's actually more important than what's happening within the story is "the cold, uncaring gaze of the anonymous masses"- the real world, that is- not that it's not all happening in-universe too.

I'm pretty sure jokes explicitly calling Meursault a robot have fallen to the wayside (though I don't exactly look for them so I'm not sure) in favor of the joke that Meursault can do literally anything if he is ordered to. He can become S Tier. He can manifest EGO. He could, I don't know, defeat Goku if Dante told him to. And so the tone changes, but... the sentiment doesn't. He's superhuman now, not subhuman, but he's still not a normal human.

The same goes for how the other sinners treat him. He's a wonderful source of information, almost like an encyclopedia. He can run fast with perfect breathing and he's strong and he can give massages. He is the perfect man- something I have seen said on a few of my Meursault posts. The easy solution to any physical problem.

Even his quirk of not being a good judge of when he should be taking action or telling people about things doesn't really matter anymore, since it has an easy "fix"- just telling him exactly what you want to be done. Goodness knows he's capable of it.

Even Vergilius seems to add to this view of him- Meursault gets one of the very few positive special voicelines from him in the announcer booth.

And the only announcer line of his to individual sinners that can't be read in a backhanded way.

He is less than human, or he is more than human. How does Meursault himself feel about any of this? Does he care? His input is valued more than before, which is great, but he still really just expresses observations and recites objective facts, not opinions and personal values.

...They don't actually like his personal values very much. Of the three occasions I can think of where he talks about what he thinks, Heathcliff in particular reacts negatively and loudly to all of them- the first is seen above, from Canto III; the third is in Canto VI, when Meursault had to go "hey I'm not finished talking yet", and though Heathcliff was Going Through It I think he also had it in his mind that he and Meursault do not tend to agree on courses of action; and the second is this one from Canto IV

(Heathcliff's words after Dante says they're going to help)

Keep an eye on this Meursault reaction. When Canto X comes out next year I'm sure we'll find out what those ellipses mean.

I believe that in his canto, the incredible, flawless image of him that the sinners have all built up in their minds will be torn down and they'll all have to contend with that. Heavy speculation, but maybe they'll even turn on him for a little bit, unable to cope with the shock that he's done something so terrible.

You know, how parasocial relationships and cancel culture works in real life.

As much as I like the idea of him having some connection to distortion (Carmen as the sun from the book is just too good), I think if he's anything but 100% human it cheapens his story. He's the perfect specimen by N Corp standards, and he's still not good enough, by metrics he could never hope to understand.

That is how I think The Stranger will be adapted.

[multifandomslxt]

How I think each Nct 127 member would be during a heated argument (honest)

THIS IS NOT REAL. MY IMAGINATION IS AT WORK HERE. IDK THEM PERSONALLY.

Taeyong

he plays the victim really well

The argument started because of something he did

but he flipped the script

now he's pinning EVERYTHING on you

manipulative

omg its crazy

knows exactly what to say to set you off

and when you do bow up he says something like

"see? this is what I'm talking about"

Johnny

he speaks to you like you're a child

like you don't know basic shit

ALOOTTT of hand gestures

and the worst part?

he sometimes disregards your point just to get his across.

twists your words a lot

He's a walker btw.

walks away from you whenever it's your turn to speak

Yuta

You won't win

let me clear that up first and foremost

You. Will. Not. Win.

You could've made an entire PowerPoint presentation with detailed examples

He doesn't give a shit.

You're coming at him for shit like this?

alright then here

He's saying the most low-balled shit ever

he's throwing shit back in your face btw

stuff you confided in him about

so you're not gonna win this one

Doyoung

Girl bye.

attitude on top of more attitude.

looks at you stupid

"how does that even make sense?"

"whatever"

and quite literally blocks you out after that.

argue with yourself is basically what he's saying

Jungwoo

pretends like he doesn't know what he did.

CANNOT take accountability for shit

everything is "but-"

excuses and more excuses

also plays the victim

also manipulative

a manipulative crier (I have ptsd from this)

makes you feel like shit for even coming at him like that.

Jaehyun

don't argue with this man if you value your sanity

he does not give you ANY reaction

just sits there and nods

"alright." "okay."

like he just wants this over with

makes you feel stupid because he really and truly is not even attempting to properly engage at all.

"are you done now?"

Mark

He tries to understand where you're coming from but boyyyy

he got some shit to get off his chest too.

he'll try to word it nicely but just ends up making it worse.

walks away and then comes back later more calm and collected

arguments don't go too far with him.

Haechan

"and?"

that's what an argument feels like with him.

completely disregards anything you say and makes you feel stupid for even thinking it.

"y/n, be serious..."

"...so tell me then, since you're so smart"

rolls his eyes at EVERYTHING.

[zorosangell]

I love your fics sm they’ve been getting me through my weekend! In honor of the cold and flu season, maybe a Zoro x Sick Reader would be cute ^^ (where of course Zoro is a big blockhead who doesn’t know how to care for someone who is sick but is too overprotective to not at least try).

⛥ﾟ・。 ham melon

synopsis: after you contract a rare, deadly disease, zoro has to take care of you... the best he can.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a lovable idiot, reader's a little nervous

a/n: love the love i'm receiving from some of you guys tysm. though i just wanted to remind some of you in my inbox that it is the holiday season, and while i'm writing these i am also getting my house and gifts together for christmas. so plz give me some grace lol. i am doing my best to work through my asks

"Zoro... honey... I don't think I can eat that," you rasped, breathing labored and voice weak as you glanced toward the man standing at your bed side. "I can barely keep down water..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed with embarrassment, now feeling stupid as he glanced down at his hands, which held the bone of a comically large cut of raw ham melon.

And after he spent a whole hour looking for it, too...

'Dammit.'

"Shit..." he cursed under his breath, tossing the meat off to the side as he ran an anxious hand through his hair, looking around the room for something else to help.

Of course, fate had to have chosen the worst possible person in the world to leave you with.

"Alright, I'll... um... shit..." he frantically thought aloud, his hand coming to rest on his chin as he brainstormed more things to give you. "Tea helps people when they're sick, right? Do you want some tea?"

He turned to you for an answer, only to be met by your heavy wheezes, your chest rising and falling both slowly and deeply in an attempt to get as much air as possible.

Your eyes were shut, blankets pulled up to your neck for the body chills and rag placed carefully on your forehead for the fever—which was a whopping 104 degrees last he checked.

Moving closer, Zoro removed the wet cloth and placed the back of his hand in its stead, letting it rest against the painful flush for a moment before quickly yanking it away, worried.

"Christ, woman, your burning up! Tea's gonna kill you!" he winced, concerned, before quickly turning around and rushing toward the exit. "Here, gimme a second!"

Bursting into the kitchen, he bee-lined it for the cupboard and grabbed a glass, moving to get water out of the fridge.

Chopper and the others would have to hurry up if you were going to survive the night.

After docking on a mysterious, tropical island, you somehow managed to catch a rare disease—a disease that had a one-hundred percent fatality rate.

Naturally, the entire crew was worried, but an elderly woman from the town explained that a cure could be made from the large lotus flower that sat in the center of the jungle.

But, because there's always a catch, the jungle was teeming with dangerous animals and man-eating plants, thus making the trip a suicide mission.

So, Luffy and the others embarked on the journey, while your boyfriend was left on ship-watching and you-watching duty.

Though, it was clear that the crew was having a far easier time with their task.

"I got you some water," Zoro stated, walking back into the room.

Quickly, he took a seat next to your bed, scooping his hand under your neck and lifting you up, helping the cup to your lips as you drank.

"Thank you..." you mumbled, taking a few sips before allowing him to lay you back down. "M'sorry... m'such a pain in the ass."

"The hell are you talking about?" he raised a brow, placing the glass on the end table.

"Well... you never get sick... and it's my luck the one time I do, it's deadly," you looked down at yourself, slightly embarrassed. "Not to mention you probably had things you wanted to do today..."

"You talk as if I think you're a burden."

"Well—"

"That's stupid."

You piped down, slightly surprised by his blunt statement.

"There's no burden in this relationship. There's me... and there's you," he stated, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "You keep me sane... and I protect you... and both of us pick up the slack where we need it."

Seriously, he turned to you, eye practically peering through your soul.

"I don't date dead-weight. If that were the case, I would've never asked you out in the first place."

Gagged, you could do nothing but sit there, stunned to silence.

You didn't know he thought so much of the relationship...

Not that you were treating it was a fling, but that you didn't think your swordsman read so much into it.

"You're talking better. The fever must be breaking," Zoro yawned, standing up from his seat. "You need anything else?"

Quietly, you shook your head, and he let out a heavy sigh, allowing his shoulders to slightly sink before he flopped onto bed with you.

"Good... M'takin' a nap..."

"Zoro! I'm gonna get you sick!"

He grunted in response, allowing his eye to shut as he rolled over and dropped his head in the pillows, tucking his hands behind his head.

"You said it yourself... I don't get sick..."

"Well, I don't wanna risk it!"

"Just shut up and c'mere," he mumbled, looping his arm around your waist and jerking you into his side.

The moment you came in contact with his shirtless body, you nearly let out a sigh of relief, his warm skin doing wonders for your body chills.

'Maybe... a few snuggles won't hurt...'

"Five minutes..." you warned, groggily, resting your head on his chest as you inched closer.

"Mhmmm," he hummed in agreement, already half asleep.

Though, when the rest of the crew returned around midnight, the two of your were still in bed together, a mess of limbs and snores as Zoro held you close—his position that of a shield as his front cradled you in his arms, and his back shielded you from any outside dangers.

After Chopper administered your medicine, and Luffy ate the ham melon left behind on the desk, the crew left, leaving you both to continue your slumber.

Zoro, relieved that you were still alive, able to sense your breathing through his sleep.

You, relieved to know that your swordsman viewed you so highly, and saw you as anything but a burden.

[exilethegame]

k but what would your characters do if Commander gave them a box to look after but they were told whatever they do, do NOT look inside?

hmmm now I'm curious what MC is putting in there

Vethna: I think this depends on MC's personality. If MC is genuine, they'd really want to look, and they'd probably just pout a lot, but they wouldn't. If MC was stoic or aggressive, Vethna would take it a lot more seriously and just not look at all-- they'd probably assume it's something bad or dangerous. And if MC is sarcastic, they'll immediately open it the second MC even kinda turns away, fully expecting it to just be empty or something stupid.

Nikke: Would depend on MC's body language! If MC read as being super serious, he probably wouldn't open it and would smack other people's hands away who try to. Definitely spends the entire time wondering what the actual fuck is inside the box. If MC is just screwing with him, and he'll know if they are (trust me), then he'll be like "Oh, yeah for sure, mhm, whatever you say Captain," super sarcastically and then just immediately rip the top off.

Jost: "Okay." (Proceeds to do exactly as asked and hold it until MC comes back for it. If MC never does... oh well.)

Amilia: Asks a billion questions as to why she cannot open the box. Is there something hidden in there? Is it dangerous? Is it a gift? For her or someone else? Is it something embarrassing? Does peeking through a gap in the lid but otherwise keeping the lid on count as opening...?If she's super close with MC, she won't open it, but she'll be oh, so very restless about it. Otherwise... yeah, she's peeking. Sorry. Choose someone more responsible!

Sabir: "Okay... why...?" Would not look in it, even if he thinks it's a prank. Would be very suspicious about the box regardless. Proceeds to try and subtly ask MC in a million different ways what is in the box and will not stop prodding until MC tells him. I mean this could literally last for years. MC forgets about it and then they'll be hanging out years later, MC confiding in him, and Sabir will just... "you know what ELSE was a secretive, sensitive topic...?"

Syfyn: Raises a brow, stares at the box, then takes it and does as asked. I don't think she'd care what's in the box, or if there even is anything in the box. Like even if MC was just pranking her and it was empty, she'd still carry it around. She'd probably know it was empty too and just be like "man I wonder why this empty box is so important to MC. I better keep it safe for them."

Freedom: Why would you even do that. Why. You could literally hand them Pandora's box, make it clear it's Pandora's box, and Freedom would be like "oh that's sick" and then pop the top right off.

[v88sy]

Lmao but for real. Idk if it's bts drama with Ryan or something but it's getting more and more obvious. Bobby, his captain just died and the guy is just over there offering a cookie to Ravi in these trying times like an extra on set with a blank expression on his face.

I refuse to feel bad for enjoying this situation. Bvddie shippers have made their own bed. I don't like Ryan at all, but even I can admit there's only so much toxicity an actor can take. Buck was at least allowed to exist in his own right in their eyes even if they couldn't stand him canonically dating a man (so much for being LGBT warriors and caring for representation!). But the way they're obsessed with Eddie and try to bring every plot he has back to him being "gay" is exhausting and weird as fuck.

Imagine being an actor and being excited for the storyline your character is getting that season and your fans are just like "we don't care, when are Buck and Eddie going to fuck on screen tho?" Not saying Eddie's plots have always been exciting at all, lord knows they've done some stupid shit with the character, but still. Eddie arguably had the most interesting SL in years while trying to mend his relationship with Chris and they could not have cared less because it meant he was in Texas and not bending over for Buck. I wouldn't blame Ryan if he wants out, if his acting in this ep is any indication, his heart just isn't in it anymore.

I didn't mind Eddie at first, I really didn't. But, it kind of feels like after Shannon died, the writers just...didn't know what to do with him. His entire existence became about grief without any real action to address it or deal with it. I get it, grief never really goes away, but you can't just Fight Club your way out of it either.

I often wonder if the writers intended to write him as insufferable and selfish as they have. He says things to hurt others and never reflects or takes accountability. It's been talked about ad nauseum here, but his friendship with Buck is incredibly one sided. Again, I don't know what's more scary...to think this was all by design...or that it wasn't.

And, since we're just going for it here, Ryandrew Tateman absolutely hasn't done himself any favors here. I know what he did. You know he did. And I wish I could say that was the only thing, or even the most recent.

On a personal note, I've worked in healthcare for 20 years, including the height of covid, so being an anti vaxx/anti covid vaxx is an instant 'fuck off' from me.

And the memes he's been sharing about Pete/Bobby? Salty edgelord.

You make excellent points about anything and everything being boiled down to Gay Eddie™ in some people's minds. Not even bi or demi, or any other shade of queer. It has to be gay, and Buck has to serve as the trad wife self insert surrogate. Which, really makes me question their motives, because it ain't representation. We already got that, and have since day one. Not that they'd ever know.

Look, it's very clear by now that I'm not his biggest fan by a long shot, but it's absolutely disgusting that people want to disregard his body autonomy by saying things like "it doesn't matter what he wants, they're gonna force him to do bddie anyways because it's what the people want".

No, they don't, and honestly, that makes me wonder about your views on consent. The role would involve, at the very least, kissing Oliver, (not that I'd mind myself, but that's another topic for another day) so...yes. It absolutely is his choice, as it should always be when engaging in contact with someone, acting job or not.

And yeah, I'll give it to you that he's probably tired as fuck about being reduced to nothing more than "the guy who absolutely must be gay because *insert harmful stereotype here.*"

And that's in addition to having every. single. interview. harp on the ship that he has said repeatedly that he doesn't want to do, for actually valid reasons, assuming those are the real reasons and he's not just blowing smoke up our ass.

So, yeah, I don't blame him for wanting an out, but I also don't think we should be blamed for wanting to be able to enjoy our show and the fandom as a whole once again.

All that being said...are you trying to put me in jail, katey 😂

[tozettastone]

Been working on that Urahara/Ichigo/Urahara time travel fic (the one where Urahara is a chatty and beloved parasite) and they're being VERY cute in my drafts lately.

--

[Ichigo and Kisuke] got very distracted, then — so distracted, in fact, that Ichigo almost didn't notice the flare of reiatsu that was Rukia meeting Renji several miles away.

"Should we go and take care of that?" he wondered. Obviously he wasn't going to let Rukia get executed, but he could rip open a garganta and get her from Soul Society at any time he felt like it. "I should take care of Aizen while I'm there, too."

"Once he reveals himself, I think. We don't want the Captain Commander believing we murdered a shinigami captain in cold blood."

That was a thought. "Right. But was it me who made him reveal himself last time?"

"...Perhaps," Kisuke admitted. "His plan to use the sougyoku made sense as far as the extraction was clear, but it wasn't entirely clear to me if he intended to remain secretive about his activities otherwise. It would have benefited his plans immensely."

"Do you want to go to Soul Society, make some noise, wait for him to frame me for killing a bunch of people, and then execute him?" Ichigo wondered. "Is that the play?"

He could feel Kisuke thinking it through, and even hear all the thoughts involved, but they were a little too context heavy and quick to make all that much sense to Ichigo. That was fine. Ichigo wasn't stupid — he was, in fact, pretty sharp — but Kisuke was just smarter than him.

He gave him a moment to think about it.

"Yes. We'll have to, I think."

There was a greedy flash of excitement from him, then. Kisuke was excited at the prospect of killing Aizen. It was nothing like Ichigo's righteous fury or even the pure bloodlust of his inner hollow.

Kisuke ...simmered. How, his murky thoughts wondered, would Aizen Sousuke feel when someone with the combined power and strategic insights of Ichigo and Kisuke showed up out of nowhere to ruin his day?

Ichigo tilted his head, puzzling it out. He realised that, aside from all the strong reasons for putting Aizen down — you know, his casual cruelty, all the murders, his world-destabilising plans, his aspirations to godhood and so on — one very powerful motivator for Kisuke was personal.

Aizen had outplayed him.

He had humiliated him.

Now, Kisuke was giddy with smug, petty anticipation. He didn't just want to win: he wanted to see Aizen lose. Badly. He wanted to rub his face in his defeat.

Aizen had ...injured his self-image, in a way. It was unbearable to be brought low before everyone he'd known and to run to the human world in exile.

Intellectually, Ichigo had known the bare details, but he hadn't actually felt it before. He did not like the feeling, and even though he was a hundred years too late to do anything to stop it from happening, he felt briefly, incandescently mad about it.

"Do you think you — er, Urahara-san — would like it if we brought back his head?" Ichigo wondered.

He knew the moment he said it how it sounded. This wasn't something a shinigami considered. It was the kind of offer made by a vasto lorde. But Ichigo was at least one third vasto lorde. Much like Kisuke being smarter than him, it was just... how he was now.

And Kisuke didn't immediately reject the idea. Instead, a soft, flattered pleasure filled Ichigo with its rosy delight. It was such a tender and vulnerable feeling that for a second it was hard to imagine it actually came from Kisuke.

There was a long pause while they both processed this.

"Practically speaking, I think he'll have more questions than we want to answer," Kisuke said regretfully. "But as romantic gestures go, bringing a man the heads of his enemies is a classic for a reason."

Ichigo hummed, evaluating.

Questions. They could evade or simply not answer questions as they arose, but that fluttering feeling of unexpected pleasure was priceless.

"Well. I won't stop you," murmured Kisuke. His soft voice did not fool Ichigo one bit, for his thoughts were warm and heavy with anticipated satisfaction.

[sparks-and-wires]

Eh, might as well drop this in

Can I ask for general dating headcanons for 1P America and Prussia (separately, ofc)? Preferably with a fem!reader

My tired brain couldn’t think of anything else, but it may be good to start off with general dating headcanons for my best boys. Thank you, Spark! 💖

Yeah, sure bestie! Though I make my stuff pretty gender neutral, hope that's ok.

America General Dating Headcanons

⭐ The type to gush about his partner when prompted. Arthur made the mistake of asking about you one time and Alfred talked so much about you that even Bonnefoy would be worried. They can't even call it puppy love, it's like he's memorized everything about you.

⭐ He's ready to fight anyone who ever says a bad thing about you, 'the hero' doesn't see flaws unless it slaps him in the face. He's the type to always see something positive in his partners even despite a person's hardships, or physical and mental capabilities. Anyone who questions his reality of you is probably at the very least, going to be screeched at. It really depends on how long they egg him on for.

⭐ "Mr. Brightside"/"Mr. Silver Lining". He has a habit out of strategically trying to find a positive in every bad situation. It starts raining on a day he planned a beach trip? Guess you're going to have to sit through a musical number from the 1952 classic "Singing in the Rain" while this fool dances with an umbrella. Please stop him before a crowd gathers, it'll just spur him on.

⭐ Clingy to an annoying degree. While he's fine by himself most of the time, he still craves attention. Until he learns your personal boundaries and schedule, he can get in the way of a lot of your daily activities. Private time is something you have to ask for.

⭐ Like always, he wants to be seen as a hero, so he might put himself into some dangerous situations just to get praise from you. This man will literally take a bullet for you, please stop him from putting himself into that position.

⭐ The first to apologize after an argument, even if he feels like he's in the right. He really doesn't want to mess up in his relationship over something he'd consider 'stupid'.

⭐ Due to his broad interests, he's open to a lot of date ideas. Whether it's staying home to watch a movie together, going to an arcade, or even hiking, he's up for it.

⭐ Just let him know ahead of time if you can't handle scary movies, like make it 100% clear you don't want to see them, because he may try to rope you into watching them like he's done with Kiku in the past. Trust me, listening to him freak out over the movie is honestly more nerve wracking than the actually movie.

⭐ If you're the type to hyperfixate on things, you now have someone to rant to. He's ready to listening to you talk about stuff even if he doesn't entirely understand it. Just be open to listen to him rant at ten times the frequency about the things he likes however childish they may be at times.

⭐ The nosey boyfriend. He gets into your stuff, checks your social media posts when your out with other people, and calls you a lot when he's not working to see what you're up to.

⭐ Tries to be romantic, fails at it, nerdy edition. He really does try to take you out 'nontypical' romantic locations, like a planetarium. Yet he nerds out so much over stars and constellations it translates more as 'cute' rather than overly romantic.

Prussia General Dating Headcanons

🐤 The type to brag about his partner to anyone who would listen, his brother being the one to hear the most. It's to the point where Ludwig wouldn't be able to sit through a family dinner without you coming up at least once in conversation.

🐤 If you live with him, chores are split 50/50, he likes a clean home. He's set aside hours of the day where he just cleans his home, so it's best to either plan around that, or move to another room to stay out of the way. It's not that he wouldn't accept help, but he acts and says he doesn't really need it.

🐤 The type to stop arguments from happening by pulling the 'agree to disagree' card, or at the very least try to explain his views in a nice way if you haven't enraged him somehow. Always open to compromise. As much as he likes to start fights with other nations, he's not about to start that with you. You're supposed to be on the same side after all.

🐤 Hope that you like birds, since he's pretty attached to his. The bird may try to land on you, perch on your shoulder, talk to you (chirp at you), or simply rest near you on. You may want to start carrying birdseed with you.

🐤 Extremely confrontational with others. He only gives people one warning not to insult to you before he physically hurts someone or publicly humiliates them. He really doesn't see an issue with getting in other people's face about their treatment of you. He doesn't care what the person's problem is, if they don't stop, they're going to be dealing with a very pissed off eastern German man.

🐤 He's actually more socially awkward for not trying to pursue romance until now. Sure he says he's awesome at everything but he's spent most of his life until now dodging marriage and fighting other nations. You can't expect him to be perfect, especially since the closest thing he's experienced to it is playing the 'big brother' role. He's just been really lonely until you came along, and he's certainly not going to know how to process it fully until later on.

🐤 I'm pretty sure you're going to find him splayed out on the floor taking apart a microwave or even a car at least once in your relationship. His interests in mechanical engineering will come into play anytime he becomes too bored. He likes knowing how the mechanics of devices work, just hope he knows how to put it back together before you'll need to use it again.

🐤 If you ask about his own history (given that you know he's a nation) he's going to give you a less factual and more abridged "I have always been awesome" version. If you want something more reliable, try his diaries, you can read between the lines more easily (and it's not like he won't let you read them if you ask).

🐤 Outwardly ignores when other people flirts with him (not that they would do that very often), he knows he's awesome but he has an almost equally awesome partner already and he isn't going to settle for less than you. (Though he'd give anyone who flirts with you a death glare because he's literally right there.)

🐤 Picky eater, if he's not cooking, it's more likely that he'll talk Bonnefoy into cooking for both of you. Honestly though, he'll say you're a great cook even if you cook simple things.

[catboybiologist]

Wanted to ask about this for a while but you had asks off, you mentioned having experienced hetero(ish) relationships from "both sides", so like, do you have any interesting observations or perspectives you think most people don't know about?

Ah yes, the bisexual transgender eye. There's lots to say here, and I don't think much of it hasn't been said before. I don't think my observations are limited to what I'm rambling about here, but here's some surface level ones.

Btw, this is probably going to be my post with the most weirdly gendered thing of anything I've posted here. I hope its abundantly clear that I don't think any of this intrinsic or morally good, its just my observation on how heterosexuals act towards each other while dating. This isn't about the boxes men and women should be in, its about the boxes that society has put them in.

I think that dating apps are intensifying stereotypical "masculine" and "feminine" dating roles in heterosexual relationships. Eg, encouraging men to "take the intitiative", oftentimes enabling harassing behavior in the process. This, in turn, forces women to screen and shut down men extremely harshly. Except, because of the entire dynamic that's being set up now, this makes a lot of men think women are "playing the game", and again, enables harassment from them.

I recently deleted all my dating apps, but even before then, I had them set to women and enbies/other only for a long time. Her was my primary app, but it has a very small userbase where I live.

Irl, men absolutely take the initiative more than women, but less aggressively than online. There's a huge added element of fear because of the in person aspect, however, and when meeting up, men can be extremely pushy.

The "toxic girlboss" angle of this is that this is often fun to play with. If you're clearly communicating in a serious context, and have established systems of consent that extend to communication as well as the bedroom, playing with "the chase" is... intoxicating. Having a man wrapped around your finger is really fucking fun. It has to feel safe and fun for both parties involved, though. You need to be able to "break character" at any point and have direct conversations, either about boundaries or directly communicating a want or need.

Obviously I haven't publicly been a woman for very long, so my experience isn't vast and limitless or anything. But I've had a few wonderful romantic entanglements with men already. Luckily for me, one of these is ongoing 😘

As for some of the people I've talked to, but never gotten far with.... cishet men are really stupid. I'm sorry but like. Y'all are. There's a lot to be said about how society normalizes male incompetence in heterosexual relationships (eg, the dopey husband stereotype) but I think this also extends to the early stages of a relationship. Men very frequently bitch and moan about "games" while not realizing that they play just as many "games" themselves. Oftentimes, those games involve being overly pushy with everything, and then not communicating their own limits and what they want out of a situation, expecting women to figure it all out for them. Eg, they want to bring forward unlimited energy and pushiness, but expect women to be the ones that whittle them down to what they actually want. This applies both romantically and sexually. Men have a lot of emotional needs, of course, and yes its a problem that they're often not met. But a huge part of that is society discouraging them from openly communicating what they want.

I guess to summarize all of this, I feel like so much of modern dating is essentially a process of elimination, where men are constantly encouraged to push and say yes, and women are constantly encouraged to shut them down for their own safety, and if they're lucky, they eventually reach a healthy dynamic by sheer process of elimination. Which... really isn't fun, and leaves a lot of room open for frustration.

Queer relationships and flirting provide a lot of open communication that hetero dynamics don't. I've had the most luck in "heterosexual" dynamics with queer or queer adjacent people, and literally everyone I've ever gotten past the initial stages of "talking" with has been at least a little bi, by their own admission. It's not that straight men aren't interested in me, or that straight women weren't interested in me before, its just that these are the people who will understand my existence as a queer woman the best and communicate with me the most openly.

I probably could say more, but that's a summary, I guess. I know its weird and stereotypical, but unfortunately, heterosexual dating is pretty much the most gendered possible environment you could be in. I feel like Jane Goodall in there sometimes, but hey. Ya gotta do what you gotta do.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 27

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1214

Masterlist

There’s never been this uncomfortable a silence between us before.

We're walking back to the AirBnB, and everything about your body language is making it clear you don't want to talk. Your hands are in your pockets, out of my reach, and your head is down so that I can't see your face. You are hunched, purposefully, in a way that screams: do not talk to me!

When we get back, you slip out of my grasp when I try to touch you. You hang up your coat and stuff your beanie in the pocket and then turn to me.

You back up when I reach out again.

“Don't.”

“(Y/n)...”

“I just– Joe…” You say, and close your eyes. “I can't. Not tonight. I–”

“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”

I'm about to offer that we watch a movie - and I'm anticipating an extremely fun night sitting on opposite ends of the couch - when the doorbell rings.

You jump. We are right at the front door, and the sound is loud.

I open the door.

I don't recognize the people standing on the steps as cops, at first. They are dressed in full blue outfits with a bright, neon yellow stripe across their upper arms and chests. For some reason, my brain provides the word 'crossing guard' even though these people look nothing like crossing guards, either.

One of them is a woman, the other a man, and the man greets me in Dutch, using a word I can't understand.

You butt in, gesturing at me. I hear the word I know means ‘English’ and the people nod, then greet us again.

“So sorry to disturb you both,” the woman says, and then adds something to you in Dutch. I hear your last name.

You nod.

She says something else.

You nod again.

“They’re with the police,” you tell me. “They want to talk to us… separately.”

“I see,” I say. “Well, no problem, right?”

The woman goes into the bedroom with you, and the man shakes my hand and tells me: “I'm Tim, but you can call me officer friendly.”

I chuckle.

“Um, okay.”

“Sorry, I've just always wanted to make that joke,” Tim says. “Tim will be fine.”

His English is good, but not good like yours. He has a definite accent. Also, he's taller than me, and he knows it.

“So what did you need, officer?” I ask.

“Just Tim. Anyway, first things first: are you aware that an acquaintance of Miss (Y/l/n), Mitch Wegganger, is dead?”

“Yes,” I say. “I also know he wasn't exactly an acquaintance.”

“Well, no,” Tim agrees. “According to his family, mister Wegganger-” He says ‘Wegganger’ in a way I would never be able to pronounce it “-was rather taken with miss (Y/l/n).”

“He was stalking her,” I say.

“Alright,” Tim says. “I don't know anything about that. I just know she was the last person he talked to.”

“As far as I know, that was a completely one-sided conversation,” I say.

I can't be too hostile, but this guy is just not taking my words seriously at all. I can just tell from his smug grin that he's going to tell his buddies about this later.

“Yes, well,” Tim says, self-importantly. “Can you tell me where your girlfriend– Is she your girlfriend?” I nod. “Can you tell me where she was between eight and twelve o'clock last night?”

“Here,” I say.

“Right. And you were also here?”

“Well, I did take a walk,” I say. “This was around… nine pm, I'd say?”

“How long were you gone?”

“An hour,” I say, which is stupid. I was gone for over two hours, and you are going to tell the other officer I was gone for more than two hours. “Maybe an hour and a half. I didn't pay attention to the time.”

“Where did you go?”

“I was just taking a look around the neighborhood.”

Tim nods. He's not writing any of this down. That's good, right? That means he doesn't actually think either of us did anything.

I hope.

“And you're sure miss (Y/l/n) was here that entire time?”

“Well, she had just taken a shower when I left,” I say. “And gotten in pyjamas. And she was still wearing those when I got back.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “What was she doing when you got back?”

“Reading a book.”

“Which book?”

“The priory of the orange tree.”

“Had she gotten a lot further along since you'd left?”

“She wasn't reading when I left.”

“But had she?”

Before I can answer, the bedroom door opens. You and the other officer step out and the two officers speak to each other for a moment, heatedly. At some point, Tim begins to frown. He turns to me.

“I'm confused,” he says. “You say you went for a walk, but your girlfriend here says you didn't leave the house all night.”

I don't know what to say to that. I look at you.

You're lying for me. But why? As far as you know, there's no reason to lie.

I widen my eyes.

“Oh, that's right,” I say. “I'm so sorry, officer–”

“Just Tim.”

“Tim,” I say, and look at him. “I think I've got a case of vacation brain. The days are all blurring into each other. I didn't go for a walk last night, that was the night before.”

“Is this true?” Tim asks, turning to you.

“Yes,” you say.

You are too good a liar.

“And how long was he gone for?” Tim asks, casually.

“I don't know,” you say. “I wasn't paying attention. I was reading, so.”

Tim nods.

“Well, we're sorry to take up so much of your time,” the woman says, half-glaring at Tim in a way that makes me think she's far more on your side than he is. “Really, we wouldn't have come by so late, but we had a hard time tracking you down today.” She directs this at you. “And we didn't want to risk missing you tomorrow. What with you being on vacation and all, I can imagine you're out a lot during the day.”

You nod slowly.

“Anyway,” the woman says, familiarly. “Call if you think of anything.”

“Uh huh.”

With that, the officers leave. You close the door behind them, then lock it. Then, you close the curtains.

You won't look at me.

“(Y/n),” I say.

No response.

“(Y/n).”

You turn to me. Finally, you meet my eyes. You're challenging me, but I can't tell what the challenge is.

“Why did you lie for me?” I say.

“I didn't lie,” you say.

“But you did.”

“No.” You shake your head. “You didn't go for a walk last night. You were right here. That's what I'm going to say every time someone asks, because that is what happened.” You take a step closer to me, so you're in my space. “Okay?”

Your eyes are burning. You’ve never looked at me this way. You are angry but you're also scared. Why are you scared? Is it me you're scared of, or do you just think the police will want to blame one of us?

“Joe–”

“Just answer me something,” I say, holding up a hand. “Where do you think I went last night?”

You press your lips together. Then, you look away.

“You didn't go anywhere,” you say. “You were right here.”

[verysium]

I’ve been seeing some discourse around twitter about the blue lock boys and whether they’d be a loyal bf or not 😭 Curious to know who do you think would be more inclined to cheat or who just wouldn’t at all!!!

I saw someone say sae would 100% cheat like whattt I feel like he wouldn’t even bother looking at anyone else if he already has someone (Cuz I mean dating him would likely mean you actually mean something to him) but I digress

ok anon you had me pulling up a whole argumentative essay here cus WHO TF SAID SAE WOULD 100% CHEAT??? 😔 that mischaracterization is so painfully inaccurate. twitter really took the whole emotionally unavailable itoshi archetype and ran with it. let me just clear the air here because my man deserves some explanation.

sae itoshi would not cheat. as in capital N and capital O. he took nearly an entire decade off his life just to work on his own issues and finally form a functional and healthy relationship with another human being. and you're telling me he's just going to let all that wash down the drain for someone else? 😒 twitter logic really be showing its illogical side here. apparently a man can be loyal to a professional sports career for eighteen years, but he can't be loyal to his significant other.

i think this misunderstanding probably happened cus of shidou. people read the manga and saw that sae dropped rin for a bug-eyed freak and automatically assumed he was disloyal. 😑 let me just say two things here:

(1) sae and shidou's relationship is strictly professional. imagine being stuck in an god awful corporate office with coworkers who bore you with their weaponized incompetence and a boss who annoys the living shit out of you. and then one day, the company hires a new recruit who is probably the most unhinged and debauched creature known to man. you're probably left wondering how he even got hired in the first place. but then you find out...he's useful. he takes risks and gets a high return on what he invests. it's impulsive and stupid, really. but at least it's unconventional and outside-the-box. he has your interest piqued. that's basically sae and shidou in a nutshell.

(2) just because sae gave shidou his number after the u-20 game does NOT mean he would do the same to any other person who would try to encroach on your relationship. and let's be real here. sae would get one text from shidou and block his contact.

anyways, here is my analysis on the bllk boys in general. introducing the anti-cheating to pro-cheating spectrum:

(A) cannot cheat under any circumstance (as in they already hate the fact that they live on a planet with 8.1 billion other people who are not you):

itoshi brothers (atp they don't even have the physical or mental capacity to entertain a third party), ness, reo

(B) cannot cheat due to physical incapability (literally cannot pull anyone within a five-meter radius to cheat with):

ego, igarashi, raichi, bachira (not that he's in any way unattractive...it's just...i feel like he would purposefully act weird to drive off people who aren't you)

(C) could not cheat (basically option A and B but less problematic version)

yukimiya, barou, kunigami, noa, loki, gagamaru, chigiri, niko, hiori, karasu (baby boy literally felt inferior cus his crush was the cutest in his class), kurona (head empty, just you)

(D) would not cheat (on you but everyone else is not included)

isagi (unintentionally a homewrecker to others but would never let anyone homewreck his relationship with you), leonardo (idk why but i just don't trust him entirely)

(E) could cheat (depends on what they get out of it):

kaiser, shidou (honestly what did you expect when you willingly dated a blonde man...)

(F) would cheat (either proven by canon or they accidentally fucked up somehow):

otoya, oliver, nagi

[femsolid]

Hi,

I was wondering how you'd respond to this

"What does feeling like a woman mean? Outside of gender norms and stereotypes?"

Feeling like a woman isn’t about ticking off gender stereotypes like dresses, makeup or whatever. It’s an internal sense of embodiment like an instinctive feeling of how you should exist in your body and how you relate to yourself and others. Even outside of societal norms, most people just know in a deep way what fits for them and what doesn’t. Same way you don’t have to explain why you feel human or why you feel alive...it’s just a fundamental part of your being....like handedness...being right-handed or left-handed. You don’t choose it because of cultural pressure it’s an innate way your brain and body sync together.

Gender identity works in a similar internal embodied way...also stereotypes didn’t create that feeling they just distort it....a person can know they are male or female regardless of societal roles that’s why even people raised without strict gender roles still often have a very clear sense of their gender internally

"What does feeling like a man mean?"

Feeling like a man like feeling like a woman isn’t about stereotypes like liking football or having a beard. It’s about the internal sense that your body, mind, and presence fit a certain way into the world...a deep "this is me" feeling. It's identity at the level of existence, not clothing not behavior. Just like cis men feel a natural unquestioned comfort identifying as male without listing traits...trans men feel the same way even if their bodies at birth didn’t match their internal map. Imagine being handed a script at birth saying "you are female" or "you are male" but from the very beginning something inside you just knew it was wrong. Not because you hated certain stereotypes or hobbies but because your entire self felt mislabeled.

Research has shown that trans people's brain structures often align more closely with their identified gender than with their sex assigned at birth (example: Rametti et al., 2011 on white matter patterns)....ancient societies like the Two-Spirit people among native americans recognized that gender identity could exist beyond stereotypes...it’s been understood for centuries that gender isn't purely societal roles. If gender was only about social expectations, trans people could just conform instead of risking everything to live as themselves. But they don't because it's way deeper than that

Ah, the usual post modern word salad: when you finish reading it you don't even know what was said. It's just a "deep, instinctive, internal, innate, identity at the level of existence." lol what? They love musing about the abstract and they're always one step away from talking about a soul. I'm only interested in material reality.

There's no such thing as "feeling like a woman." Women are not a feeling, women are individuals. We're not an identity, we're not a concept, we're not an emotion, we are people with our own thoughts and personalities. So there's nothing to "identify" with, unless you don't think women are people. A man can't know what being a woman "feels" like because 1) he's not one and 2) womanhood is not a feeling, nor an identity, it's just a biological fact. Simple. To say otherwise is as stupid, ridiculous and offensive as saying "I identify as black" when you're white. It doesn't even deserve an answer.

"Feeling like a woman isn’t about ticking off gender stereotypes like dresses, makeup or whatever."

Why are "gender therapists" diagnosing kids as trans for, I quote, "consistently not conforming to gender stereotypes?" Why are transbros candidly saying "I always knew I was a girl, even as a kid I liked nail polish and make up! uwu" I've lost count of the number of times I've heard that one. Or the women saying in interviews that they always knew they were a boy because they liked football and didn't want to become a housewife. Why does Amnesty International define being transgender as not conforming to the traditional expectations associated with one's sex? Why are people claiming a person is "trans" the minute they don't follow sexist stereotypes? Butch women in particular. Why is "gender expression" even a thing? Expressing your "innate gender" through clothes and mannerisms, that's not sexist? You go on reddit and read what "trans women" are writing and vomit at the casual misogyny. Why are so many trans people gay? Why are the large majority of them girls? Why so many underage girls? I mean if it has nothing to do with sexist stereotypes, then there's no reason for girls to be the ones most willing to become members of the opposite sex, right? Don't tell me this is "innate."

"It’s an internal sense of embodiment like an instinctive feeling of how you should exist in your body and how you relate to yourself and others."

There are some people who have an "instinctive feeling of how they should exist in their bodies" that tells them they should be disabled. They buy wheelchairs, white canes and injure themselves on purpose. Is that okay? Should we all pretend they're actually disabled so as not to be bigots? Should we pay for their amputations? Or should they get therapy and learn to accept themselves and reality? I personally feel like I should be able-bodied and play sports, does that change reality? It's such a male way of thinking: "my feelings are facts and my thoughts can change reality." What about anorexics? They also have "an instinctive feeling of how they should exist in their bodies." Actually, we're back to mind/body dualism: "exist in your body" as if you were the inhabitant of a body, when in reality you are your body.

"Even outside of societal norms, most people just know in a deep way what fits for them and what doesn’t."

It's an empty sentence but I think it's funny that someone would claim to know how people think "outside of societal norms" when every human being on earth was born in a human society. They're declaring as "fact" something that they can't possibly know.

"Even people raised without strict gender roles still often have a very clear sense of their gender internally"

Same remark as before. No one was ever raised without strict gender roles in a patriarchal society. They're declaring as "fact" something that they can't possibly know.

Also, if this so called "gender identity" is a personal sense of self then it can't be proven nor disputed. We're just supposed to believe, on faith, that this dude is a woman because he says so. That the oppressor is actually oppressed. Even if I were to ignore how offensive that is, I would have to point out that asking people to believe you on faith, especially as you say something grotesque, is raising all the alarm bells for me. That's just not the way I operate.

"You don’t choose it because of cultural pressure it’s an innate way your brain and body sync together."

Again, how do they know that? Since every human being is born in a culture? How can they know that it's innate and not cultural? That's the third time they claim to know something they can't know. The nature vs nurture debate is still ongoing in the scientific field, but this random tumblr user has everything figured out apparently...

"Your entire self felt mislabeled."

Yes, when you're a girl and you're labelled all sorts of nasty things because you were born female, your entire self feels "mislabelled" indeed. It's not being trans, it's being human.

"Imagine being handed a script at birth saying "you are female""

They call it a "script" because to them your biological sex defines your entire life (because of gender stereotypes. Yes, the same gender stereotypes they claim don't matter).

"Research has shown that trans people's brain structures..."

Blablabla no. There's no woman brain vs man brain, that's been debunked as sexist nonsense. The researches done on transbros is flimsy at best. Also the ones studied were gay (not the usual "transbians" we've come to know and hate.) There is, to this day, no proof that "gender identity" is a biological fact. And it makes sense given how nebulous a concept it is. Also, the brain is not the only organ that makes you you. All your organs work in concert with each others and are responsible for the person are. In the scientific field, they even call the intestines "the second brain", because we've discovered that it impacts our feelings.

"Ancient societies like the Two-Spirit people among native americans recognized that gender identity could exist beyond stereotypes…"

This is the seemingly inevitable moment when the trans activist reveals that they're white. They looooove the "noble savage" trope. You see, if even the primitive savages agree with me, then I must be right, right? They're connected to nature and stuff. Before the white coloniser tainted them, they were pure and always right :)

But "ancient societies"....? The term two-spirit was invented in the 90s... it's a modern concept to categorise people who don't conform to sexist stereotypes... it was invented, much like "non-binary", by people who, instead of challenging gender roles, decided to claim that if someone was operating outside of those gender roles then they weren't normal or a real female or male.

"It’s been understood for centuries that gender isn't purely societal roles."

To us feminists it's always been understood that gender is a patriarchal tool invented to subjugate women. There's nothing fun or deep or personal about it. Certainly nothing innate nor instinctual. Gender is sexism.