#love is so much better than hatred and violence and aggression

[f1nneas]

I yearn to be a mother but I don't want to bring life into a world full of hatred and it gets me mad sometimes

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Spencer Reid Headcanons (General)

"I promise to keep you safe." — Spencer Reid.

❝ 🕵 — lady l: It's been a while since I wrote a general hc, so I don't know if it's good, but I did my best! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes. 🤎

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, invasion of privacy, breaking the law (?) and very implicit murder.

❝🕵pairing: yandere!spencer reid x gender neutral!reader.

Spencer Reid is a genius, in every sense of the word. He is not only intelligent but a true genius, someone who hunts criminals with pure skill, and you, his obsession, his darling, even if you are not a criminal, will be hunted by him. He will have you in every meaning because you belong to him, just as he belongs to you.

He is known for his brilliant mind and his exceptional ability to analyze complex patterns. His eidetic memory allows him to retain vast amounts of information, making him an invaluable asset to the FBI team. Too bad for his darling, however, because he will use his skills and resources to get you at the end of it all.

Spencer is fully aware that his thoughts about you are disturbing, to say the least. But is it so wrong to love someone? He believes not. Maybe the graphic and explicit violence he thinks when someone hurts you isn't exactly healthy but he doesn't care as much as he should.

You are like an enigma that he wants more than anything to decipher, to unravel all your mysteries. If he could, Spencer would read your mind to know all of your thoughts, even the most intimate ones. His insatiable curiosity would drive him to explore every corner of your mind, seeking to understand every thought, every emotion and every facet of your personality.

Spencer is driven by his desire for curiosity and his obsession with you. He values ​​his work at the FBI and his friends but he values ​​you even more. You became an extra motivation for what he does; hunt down criminals to keep the world safe so you can live in it.

He would be disturbingly uncomfortable at the thought of losing you, and his analytical mind could lead him to investigate and monitor your activities closely, perhaps even crossing some ethical lines in the process. Spencer can and probably will become a meticulous and highly effective stalker, watching your social media, searching anyone who was/is close to you.

Spencer doesn't know the word "privacy" when it comes to you, he will look up everything he can about you. He can't bear the thought of not knowing everything about you, he hates the thought of you keeping some kind of secret from him. His willingness to cross boundaries and violate other people's privacy shows how far he is willing to go to maintain his control over you.

He would love to be able to read your mind, just to know what you're thinking and if you're thinking about him because Spencer is always thinking about you. His thoughts are always about you, about how he can make you happy, how he can make the world a better place for you to live. Everything is about you and always will be.

Spencer is extremely possessive of you and it becomes evident very quickly. He is not the master of hiding his feelings for you, including the most dangerous ones. He will stare with hatred evident in his eyes and make strange expressions when someone gets too close to you.

He doesn't want to be controlling and he isn't, but Spencer gets jealous very quickly due to the fact that he's insecure about your love for him. He won't kill someone out of jealousy, he's from the FBI and knows better than to do that, but he can become more aggressive, and bitter if you don't show that you just care about him.

Along with his possessiveness comes absolute overprotection. Spencer is suffocating and ruthless when it comes to protecting you. He will go to great lengths to take care of you, being your own armed escort or having the FBI protect you. When it comes to your safety, he doesn't mess around.

He wouldn't be the type to kidnap you that quickly, no, it would take a lot of motivation for him to take you like that. Maybe you kept rejecting him or you were in a situation where you could have died, in both situations, Spencer would know that he would have to increase your protection. And the best way would be for you to move in with him, without your prior consent however.

Spencer Reid isn't the worst yandere to have, he's just very overprotective and a determined stalker. He will never hurt you, not on purpose at least, and he will make sure you are always well taken care of. He can become very smothering when he is jealous but he means well. Just don't hide anything from him and everything will be fine because Spencer can't stand the idea of ​​not knowing everything about you.

[kevindavidday]

writing perfect court is insane for several reasons but i think what's made me pause and reevaluate everything is the dynamic between nathaniel and riko, if they had grown up together. the hostility is definitely still there, the competitiveness, the anger issues, fire and fuel, but all that's expected.

it's the way these two care and how they show it that is quite literally undoing my work right now. care about each other is too much of stretch, but the one intersection in their lives isn't even their families, it's kevin day. they both are abysmally attached to him, and neither of them know how to show love in stereotypically normal ways so poor kevin is stuck in the middle of their dick measuring competition. he's older than them but he's not allowed to be better than riko, and he's not allowed to be aggressive the way nathaniel is. kevin struggles to understand their easy acceptance of violence because he didn't grow up as a moriyama or a wesninski. his legacy is free of blood, but nathaniel and riko? they're born to it, their earliest memories are of people dying some of which they had to experience and witness together.

that brings me to the absolutely gut wrenching realization that nathaniel would've still tried to convince riko that he was nothing more than a cast off and it would do them better to be allies. he would've tried to convince him that they have a common enemy (tetsuji moriyama) who has been using them since the beginning of their lives, that their worth has been reduced to mere investments, that nathanielnbelieves in the perfect court but not if riko keeps playing into the delusion that he's part of a family that cast him aside. kengo would die and nathaniel would tell him 'i told you. i warned you they didn't care, king. you did not listen' and riko, instead of being moved by the reasoning words of a boy who has grown with him and seen him change from a hopeful child to a tyrant king, will lash out because how dare you say i told you so?

and nathaniel would be hurt in the process of it, nathaniel would have to, at a certain point, give up all hope in riko moriyama's humanity because the other boy truly believes nathaniel and jean are property. he does not see them as human, and nathaniel's hatred for him will grow to the point that it consumes him. over and above it will be his hatred for tetsuji moriyama, because despite everything, nathaniel had wanted to be the best. he'd wanted their perfect court to be a reality and it was the master's cruel ways and ridiculous teachings that had turned riko away from himself and consequently the rest of them. he would fight riko but blame tetsuji, because tetsuji forced his hand.

"Put a bird in a cage and call it a nest - cripple it, torture it, hide it from the sky. And then you expect it to take flight when pushed. Put like that, it's obvious the bird will fall." Nathaniel paused . "All the things you've done to us, to me, to Kevin, to your own nephew. Your success was always bound to failure, and I'll say it because no one else ever has, Tetsuji Moriyama, you are the stupidest fucking man alive."

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Five)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: Some of the answers can only be found on the line between life and death.

CONTAINS: Drug use, near death experiences, swearing, angst, toxic behavior, NSFW art, misogyny, hurt/comfort, Patrick Bateman is a warning himself.

WORDS: 4.4k

A/N: Sorry guys for the long wait, I was in the hospital, but now I feel better and hope to get back to my writing form. Thank you so much for your support and comments, I love you all!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Sighing tiredly, Patrick quickly ran his hand over his face. "Because you told your... 'co-worker' that I'm aggressive." He said quietly. "You can explain why you were absent without being so...so specific. Look, if people think I'm...aggressive, they're going to do a wellness check. And if you keep screaming and crying and acting hysterical, I could get in trouble. Do you really want me to get in trouble?" The man straightened up slightly and furrowed his brow. He felt a deep hatred for you, one that could only be resolved with complete violence. But he held himself still. "How can I trust you to go to work? After your behavior? Hmmm?" His grip on you tightened. "God, I can't deal with you. Do your parents know how...pathetic you are? I'm the least scary thing in this fucking city, honey. I hope you realize that."

Scowling, you yanked your wrist roughly from his grip, rubbing the spot where the dark bruise was sure to bloom. "Leave your cheesy pet names for Courtney, okay?" you hissed, getting up from the bed, ignoring the way the hem of your long shirt was pulled up. "Vincent's picking me up soon, I'll be late tonight because I have to... overwork for missing my shift yesterday," your tired gasp echoed through his opulent bedroom. "Have fun, but...if you're going to bring some hookers here today, you'd better tell me now, because I don't want..." you paused, crossing your arms. "I don't want to be a part of that depraved shit..."

Bateman let you go and stepped back. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils and closed his eyes to calm himself. "Okay...okay…I'm sorry…just…you're stressing me out." He sighed, suddenly exhausted. It was easier to deal with Evelyn because she didn't fucking live with him. Sure, she was a chatterbox, but at least she didn't notice anything he did. He scowled. "I'm not going to hire anyone. I'm going to...take a nap...or something." Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. "Besides, it's not depraved. Everyone does it. Even women. Better get used to it." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Also, wear some fucking clothes, huh? If you're going to act like a jealous bitch around Courtney, then have some dignity, you know?"

A wave of anger washed over you at his last remark. For a brief moment, you stood in the doorway, considering whether to stab him back. "Uh, you keep saying how pathetic I am, but you...you're stuck in a situation where you're marrying a woman you don't like because your mommy said you had to," you chuckled and looked back at him. "While the woman you LIKE," you dragged out the last word. "Is about to marry another guy, so you can just be an errand boy while her fiance is away on business," you licked your suddenly dry lips briefly before picking up your clothes and opening the bedroom door. "Isn't that pathetic, Bateman?"

Huffing angrily, the man stared at you, his arms crossed and his eyes widened slightly at your outburst. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're in this situation too, aren't you?" He scowled. "Also, for your information, I don't like Courtney. She's just a great lay. Her fiance is a fucking queer anyway, so, y'know, that won't last long." He ranted, angrily following her to the door. "I'm not pathetic! You are! I have more money than your whole fucking family, sweetheart—I could BUY you! But, oh, who would want that? Who would want a fat-headed, no-good brat in their house?" He was angry now. Bateman grabbed your books off the table and shoved them into your arms, then pushed you out the front door, not caring if you were ready to change or not. "Tell your family the marriage is off. Tell them you've pushed me beyond my breaking point and I'm doing everything in my power not to break your fucking neck right now!" Patrick said this calmly, but there was a burning hatred in his eyes. Then he slammed the door and locked it, pressing his back against it.

When you heard the lock click, you couldn't believe your luck. 'Finally...finally I did it!' You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief, hugging your books closer to your chest as you realized you hadn't put on your panties. At first you wanted to knock on the door and ask him to let you take your things, but then you decided that it would only make you look pathetic and you would never give him that kind of pleasure. At least you managed to put on the casual dress you usually wore when you went out. But the lack of underwear made things a little more difficult.

After a few minutes, you left the American Gardens Building and walked down the street to the phone booth, where you dialed your family's home number and thanked God that your mother picked up the phone. "Hey, Mom," you murmured in a shaky voice. "I don't have much time, but...I'm sorry for ruining everything...I know how important this marriage was to our family, but...I couldn't go on like this...it's all over now." And with that, you hung up without even giving your mother a chance to respond when you noticed Vincent's car pulling up to the street.

Your sudden call was like rain on a sunny day, almost giving your mother a heart attack—Mrs. Rice pressed a hand to her chest before asking her maid to bring her some water and a sedative. Breathing heavily, the old lady dialed Mrs. Bateman's number, hoping that Patrick's mother would give her some information about what the hell had happened. When the beeping finally stopped and the old woman heard her friend's voice, she relaxed for a moment before beginning to speak. "Linda, hi, it's Janet," she swallowed and tugged on the phone cord. "My daughter just called me...she said the wedding is off...do you know anything about it?"

Linda lay in her hospital bed staring at the ceiling. She'd been in the sanatorium for years now, and it was easy for her to entertain herself. Time passed quickly now. She jumped when she heard the phone ring and sat up. She picked it up with trembling fingers. "Hello?" She asked tentatively before hearing a familiar voice. "Oh, dear - well... I didn't hear anything, but I'll... I'll call him. I'll put you on the other line, Janet." She clicked a button, then punched in Patrick's number and waited patiently.

Meantime, annoyed and stressed out, Patrick poured himself a J&B. He felt great though, as if an impossible weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. He swallowed it down and walked into the living room, glancing down at the phone as it began to ring. He picked it up and rested it on his shoulder as he walked around. His elation was momentarily dampened when he heard his mother's voice. "Look, Mother—the woman is a lunatic." He moved to lie down in his bed. "She's an ugly pig and I'm really offended that you would set me up with her. There are... thousands of other women in New York who are richer, more attractive, and...well...better than her. Okay? I'm 27 years old. I can make my own decisions." Bateman went to his closet and opened a drawer. He blinked when he saw a small baggie of what looked like cocaine. He picked it up between his fingers and smiled to himself. "Listen, I'll call you later." Patrick hung up the phone and set it on the side of the bed before opening the baggie. He poured some on his AmEx card and snorted, blinking a few times. It was...very strong. Without even thinking, he spread the rest on his teeth with his finger and lay back, closing his eyes.

The day at the hospital had been so fucking horrible, starting with not having any underwear—you couldn't just walk around like that, so you had to find a solution. Thank God you had left some of your clothes in the staff room, so after you changed into the fresh underwear and then into the medical uniform you started to feel so much better, although it was so hard to forget the ride with Vincent because you had to hold your legs together every damn second.

After the work day was over, you praised yourself for not getting upset about the whole situation that had happened in the morning—it was the right decision to get him off, despite all the feelings you had for this man. 'He doesn't exist anymore,' you sighed as you waited for the taxi, the heavy medical kit in your hand. Since you had decided to return to your family's house, you wanted to collect all your things, including those that were trapped in Bateman's apartment. If he didn't let you in, you would tell your mother that all the jewelry she had given you was gone forever.

A taxi ride was quite short, maybe it felt short, but as you stepped out of the elevator on the 11th floor, your senses suddenly warned you—something was definitely wrong. You walked slowly down the clean hallway to Patrick's front door when you noticed it was open. 'What the hell?' You tensed as you remembered how meticulous Bateman was about security. With careful, quiet movements, you opened the door and stepped inside, soon to find an unfamiliar woman in the living room, looking for something as she went through Bateman's CD collection.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?" You yelled, hoping Patrick was nearby. 

The woman stalled before slowly turning around, which helped you notice Bateman's Rolex, his gold cufflinks, and some cash in her hands. "Wait...I...I didn't call an ambulance!"

Frowning, you looked down at your medical uniform before hissing. "I'm not the ambulance...but I'll be a lot worse than that if you don't put all that stuff in its place and leave!"

The unknown woman, who was probably a hooker, sobbed but obeyed and put all the stuff on the coffee table, her hands visibly shaking. "Okay, okay, I'll go, but I... I didn't kill him!"

"What?!"

"I didn't kill him...he just fainted and..." the woman cried, grabbing her head. "I didn’t do it…I swear!"

With that, the hooker stormed out of Bateman's apartment, but that was the last thing you had to worry about after what she had said. Nervously biting your lower lip, you quickly ran into the bedroom to see Patrick lying absolutely naked on the bed, his skin sticky, covered in sweat and...his cum? 

"Patrick!" You called out to him, lifting his pale face. 

(Patrick and Becca art by my gorgeous fairy @anyarlly).

When he didn't respond, you opened his eyes—the pupil was so dilated it was obvious he'd OD'd. 'Did that bitch do this to him?' you thought briefly before rushing to grab the medical kit and find the antidote. 'Stay fucking professional,' you muttered to yourself, not letting the panic get the better of you. As soon as you grabbed the packet of naloxene, you returned to Bateman and sat on top of him, spraying two sprays of the antidote into each of his nostrils. "Patrick, Patrick, can you hear me?" you gently slapped his face to help him regain his senses. Breathing heavily, you began to stress when you realized that Patrick would probably have to be taken to the hospital, but since he had overdosed, that would cause him so much trouble. Not to mention when you noticed that his breathing became so shallow and weak that it scared the hell out of you. 

"Oh, no…Patrick, breathe, breathe you bastard!" You shouted at him and before you started the artificial respiration you also took a dose of naloxene to prevent yourself from overdosing in case you accidentally came into contact with any drugs Patrick was taking. As your lips covered his, you closed his nose and began to inhale the oxygen into his lungs, praying that it would help.

Patrick's vision was dark, his consciousness trapped in the deepest recesses of his mind. All he could remember was taking the drugs and hiring a hooker. Maybe they had sex, but Patrick couldn't remember. He felt cold. Then hot. Then cold again. He wanted to scream, to rip the skin from his flesh, to run outside wearing only a coat and let it fly behind him like a cape, but he couldn't move at all. A spark of light came into his mind. Then another. His breath was short and shallow and he felt like he could just die right now, but the light gave him hope. Something to hold on to. He felt air being pumped into his lungs. Suddenly his eyes opened. His arms desperately flew up and wrapped around you, needing more air. When the man remembered how to breathe properly, he let go of you and closed his eyes, which were bloodshot and sore from the drugs.

If you ever dreamed how your first kiss with Patrick would be, you would never have imagined it would be like this. Panting, you quickly wiped your mouth, feeling a little dizzy. 'Damn, he probably rubbed the coke right into his gum! What a reckless idiot!'  You took a few deep breaths before getting up from Patrick's weak body. "I... I'll get you a shot, you'll feel better," you mumbled and went back to the medical kit, then grabbed a vial and a needle. "Stay with me, Patty," a sudden rush of tenderness coursed through your small frame as you ran a finger along his pale cheek. "You'll be fine," you hummed, taking his hand carefully to find the vein on it. "If your condition doesn't stabilize in fifteen minutes, we'll have to go to the hospital," you closed your eyes for a second and exhaled as you heard Patrick's painful cough, your heart bleeding from the scene. "Just stay with me..." You begged before disinfecting the spot where you were about to make an injection.

The man was panting heavily, his other hand over his heart, which was beating rapidly. He blinked before opening his eyes fully, looking up at you with an unfocused gaze. Nothing was really being processed. His hand tensed from the shot, his veins protruding slightly through the thin skin of his hand. Before he knew it, he was sobbing. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his shoulder shook as a small whimper escaped his lips. Just a few minutes ago, he was teetering on the edge of life and death—and now he was here. 'Thank you . ' Bateman couldn't quite see your face, but your soft, silken voice helped him recognize you. He gripped your hand tightly before loosening his grip to something more comfortable for you. "Don't... don't leave me here..." Patrick choked out, looking up at you tearfully.

His suddenly pleading voice stirred something in your chest, something you tried to bury, but no matter how hard you tried, that something was alive, longing for the man beneath you. "Hey, hey," you pressed your palm against his cheek. "I'm not going to leave you, Patty, you're going to be okay, I promise," you noted the time, you only had fifteen minutes and if the injection didn't help, you would have to think about the possibility of taking him to the hospital. "Patrick, I know that you and your family always get medical treatment at some elite clinic, is that right?" you asked suddenly, adjusting the pillow underneath him to make him more comfortable. "If the medicine doesn't work, you will need medical treatment that can only be provided in a hospital. Do you understand?"

Patrick breathed heavily, his heart slowing slightly as he stabilized himself. The injection made him feel a lot better, thankfully, but he was still scared. He didn't think about anything but not letting you go. He felt that he needed you at this moment. "Y-Yes... I understand..." He said softly. Bateman moved up slightly and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down to lie with him. Then, the man wrapped his other arm around your back, burying his head in your neck as he sought comfort. Fuzzy memories from a few hours ago began to return to his mind. Him yelling at you and kicking you out. He sobbed again, clenching his hands into fists. "Oh God..." he choked out. "I'm sorry...please don't go...don't go..." He mumbled, repeating 'I'm sorry' in a hushed tone.

(Patrick art by my amazing queen @somnolenthour).

Paralyzed, you tried to hold your breath and not burst into tears at his sudden unraveling. "I'm here, I won't leave you," you knew his behavior was the result of the side effects of the antidote you had given him, and as soon as he regained his senses— he would forget everything. And that spurred you to go down to Patrick's trembling lips and seal them with yours. It was not even a kiss, just flesh touching flesh. "I love you, Patty," you murmured against his mouth before embracing him and pulling him closer so that his nose could nuzzle the soft skin of your neck. "I always have and I always will, since the day we met, two little kids," you chuckled sadly, on the verge of tears. "You should stop living this life, you deserve much better," your words were more like a mantra, as if you were trying to convince yourself. "Besides... I know Jean cares about you, maybe you should give her a chance?" A small, telltale tear slid down your cheek, but you brushed it away and let it fall onto your medical uniform. 

"No." Patrick said slowly. "I... I don't... I don't want Jean. I want…"

"I'll give you some sedatives and you'll sleep like a baby...after that you'll feel refreshed, I promise." You tried to shush him but he continued.

"I want...you..." Patrick pulled away to look at you, his eyes still bloodshot and filled with tears. He seemed to panic slightly when you mentioned sedatives. The man shook his head quickly and licked his lips to rehydrate them.

His sudden protest against taking any sedatives made you stop and look at him with unspoken concern. "Shhh, it's okay," you cooed to him, but when Patrick put his hands on your breasts, which he probably did accidentally, it almost broke the resistance you had meticulously built up all this time. "All right, no sedatives," you conceded, looking down at his palms holding your breasts, but you didn't try to take them away, thinking that maybe he was relaxing in such a depraved way. "Tell me...tell me what do you want instead of sedatives? I want you to sleep and rest."

"Just…stay..." Bateman murmured tiredly, closing his eyes. He wrapped one leg around your hip, almost trapping you on the bed with him

In another situation, you would feel like the happiest person in the world, but now all you felt was sadness and compassion for the man who had trapped you in his strong arms. "Okay, okay," you kept your tone as sweet as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to fall asleep and feel better. "After you fall asleep and wake up, everything will be back to normal," you murmured, the pain in your voice undeniable. "But I want you to remember this—please don't do drugs, don't risk your life," you quickly ran your finger along his flushed cheek. "I don't want to see you like this, I want you to be happy," you continued whispering, your words lulling Bateman to sleep. "When you wake up, you won't remember everything you told me or the way you held me," as you watched him close his eyes, you sighed and rolled onto your back, quickly kicking off your medical shoes and looking up at the white ceiling above. "How unfortunate that I will remember all of this…"

Patrick nodded slowly, hearing what you said but not really listening. It was hard to really listen when his head was buzzing. The man closed his eyes and breathed slowly, keeping his breathing steady to bring his body back to its usual state. He planted a few soft kisses on your shoulder as his face pressed closer to your body. Before he knew it, consciousness melted away and he was asleep. He didn't dream, as usual, nor did he stir. His grip on you never loosened, and the only evidence that he was still alive was the soft breathing and the gentle smile on his face.

A few hours later, you didn't even notice falling asleep either, but the sudden thunderstorm outside didn't let you get much rest, thankfully it didn't wake Patrick. Slowly, you slipped out of his arms and after tucking him into the blanket, you quietly sneaked into the living room to finally take off your medical uniform, leaving yourself in a tight top and shorts. Then you checked that the front door was locked and that everything was in its place. 'Fuck, should I tell him that the hooker tried to steal his Rolex and some other stuff?' You wondered as you went into the kitchen and turned on the light. Then you opened the fridge to see what you could cook for Bateman, because when he woke up he would feel a terrible hunger as a side effect of the medicine you had injected him with. Looking through the stuff in the fridge, you found some vegetables, meat, and soon you were cooking some pasta for him, although you expected he would not like it since you were not a chef from Dorsia. 'Whatever, if he doesn't like it, I'll eat it myself.' As you strolled past the bedroom to see if Patrick was still asleep, you caught a glimpse of the coffee table and noticed his Walkman and a pair of headphones. Without a second thought, you took everything and came back into the kitchen, now listening to what Patrick had been listening to the last time, and that was TOTO's tape. 'Oh God, I love this band.' You chuckled softly and mixed the ingredients in the pan, moving rhythmically to the Hold The Line song.

Meanwhile, Bateman let out a small whimper as he felt the lack of warmth in his arms. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, his eyes still slightly sore. Frowning, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, slowly getting to his feet. He noticed that he was naked, but didn't bother to put anything on. A bit clumsily, the man walked from his bedroom to the kitchen, the light hurting his eyes and making him squint. He saw your silhouette behind the counter. The drugs had worn him down, but something inside him wanted to be close to you again. He couldn't remember much about what happened last night, but for some reason he didn't feel the same anger towards you. Patrick wasn't even angry that you were back in his apartment. With a smug grin, he walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. He took the Walkman off your head. "If you're going to use my Walkman—at least use the cheap one."

"Patrick...how are you feeling?" You asked before a loud clap of thunder rang out, scaring you a bit. 'Does he remember that I'm afraid of thunderstorms?' you wondered as you turned to face him, even now he looked so perfect, so desirable, so...so Patty.

Slightly confused, Patrick seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his arms away, taking a step back. He moved behind the counter to hide his naked form. Of course, he would show it at every opportunity, but he felt more vulnerable being completely naked like this. "Uh, I feel fine." The man scratched his head. He couldn't remember anything from last night and he felt a bit dizzy. A terrible feeling, really. He looked up at the ceiling as the thunder rumbled and noticed your frightened reaction. A flash of memory flashed through his mind—him as a boy with a girl about his age—maybe a little younger—huddled together in his parents' house during a thunderstorm. Bateman inhaled sharply, startled by the sudden nostalgia, and began to turn around. The man pulled down the blinds on all the nearby windows, then walked over to his stereo. He picked out a Huey Lewis CD, his favorite, and put it on. Patrick tapped his hands on the stereo to the rhythm of the song before grabbing his Bijan robe from the top of the couch. He wrapped it around his body and walked back to you, standing behind but not touching you. "Uh, by the way...you can...you know... you can still stay here..." He stopped and looked over your shoulder. "What are you doing?"

'No, Patty, I can't stay here.' You were about to say when Patrick asked about the food. "It's... uh... it's pasta bolognese, I hope I pronounced it right," you looked at him, noticing his skeptical look. "Antidote always makes people hungry after a nap, I checked the fridge and when I didn't find anything specific I thought I'd make this," you turned to the pan, the smell was really amazing, though you were sure Patrick wasn't impressed. "If you don't want to eat it, I will, and then you can throw it in the garbage, I won't be offended." With that, you yawned tidily and covered the pan, trying not to focus on Bateman's drilling gaze behind your back.

Patrick chuckled slightly. "Well...I'm sure it won't be Barcadia quality, but it seems hard to mess up pasta." He squinted at you, then sniffed the air. It smelled heavenly. He closed his eyes and sighed softly, crossing his arms. He almost complimented you, but stopped himself. His reverie was interrupted when he heard the word 'antidote'. "Uh, antidote?" He asked suspiciously, moving closer to you. "What... antidote? Did something happen last night?"

You accidentally burned your finger on the hot pan, you squealed, bringing it to your lips to blow on it. "Uh, I..." you turned to face him, noticing how close Bateman was standing to you—dangerously close. 

'I should tell him everything, shouldn't I?'

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[cyanidas]

⚠️SHSL Detective ! Kazuichi Souda 🕵️‍♂️

I'm hoping to make a small series of fun lil sprite edits with my talentswap AU that scrambles the talents of Class 77 and Class 78, and has its own weird lil story to go with it

(someday I'll think of a cool shorthand title. maybe. perhaps. as a treat. i would also like to write this story someday... we will see, since evidently im allergic to projects)

Headcanons? Headcanons for Detective Souda?

(also a lil comparison between this one and normal Kazu, and some AU info)

For this AU, characters' original body types, general interests/inclinations, and much of their personality is intact - the only parts of their personality that change are things influenced by their line of work alone. A lot of who we are and who we become tends to be influenced by our interests, which in turn is influenced by our upbringing, which also influences who we are... but I intend to keep the characters as close to how they are outside of their original talents as possible.

This AU also swaps the end twists between the 1st and 2nd games, and in some way keeps original relationships (like Makoto and Kyoko's partnership, and Souda's inclination towards Sonia). Some personality aspects are allowed to bloom or forced into hiding, depending on the upbringing I imagine would have been needed to allow these talents to shine within them and rise to Ultimate status.

ok Souda Headcanon Time:

The teeth are actually natural - he has a disorder which effects a number of things but especially effects his teeth, which are sharp as a result (something that evidently exists?? tho i forget the name, and it's not as perfect as drawn here ofc but.)

I think og-Souda would have a great skincare routine, one that Detective Souda lacks, since he never gained the motivation nor inspiration to care more about his appearance in front of others. So, he has some zits.

When he was very young, he was living with his father in their bike shop, but his dad went too far one night. A worried neighbor called authorities on them after witnessing his dad's aggression. At some point, the situation tips over, and Kazu's removed from his father's custody.

The detective investigating his father's abuse took care of him, and eventually adopted him after his dad was incarcerated. New Dad was not physically abusive, and genuinely cared for his new son, but due to his line of work he wound up kind of a sad sack of a person, so he's still a pretty cringefail/wetkitten father figure.

Kazuichi would accidentally stumble across his files around the house, and witnessed far more corpses than he likely should have as a child. Terrified at first, he eventually suppressed his fears in favor of trying to become a stronger person, and insisted on applying himself to learn his caretaker's line of work... inadvertently witnessing even more death and dying than he should have, from a young age.

As a young teen, he took interest in therapy and self care, and came to realize his trauma regarding his father and his guardian / upbringing. New Dad has his full love and respect and he tries to change for his son. This kind of expands Kazu's self-respect a little, while adding new depths to his hatred/fear of violence and conflict.

Due to his new caretaker, he never went to the same schools, and lost his original friends as a result - so he doesn't suffer from the same trust issues as OG-Souda, and as a result, easily clings to the people around him and allows himself to get lost in his head a tad more often than OG.

He specializes in forensic investigative work, because his brain is still wired better for calculations, spatial reasoning, and mathematical speculation.

He also still loves learning about how things work, and now, he's especially interested in how things have happened / come to be - finding satisfaction in analyzing evidence, instead of reverse-engineering parts/machines.

He even still has a mild interest in mechanics! But he is firmly convinced that being handy and technical is nothing to boast about.

He is also now convinced that he wouldn't make a good repairman/mechanic/engineer, anything of the sort. Part of this apprehension is due to his hatred of his father.

He is still pretty timid, and jumps easily at any sudden or loud noise, is afraid of the paranormal, gets upset easily when socializing, and feels terrified when there is any perceived threat.

However, death and dead bodies are some of the things that no longer frighten him. Upset, sure, but nothing like OG-Souda. He sees dead bodies as objects to investigate and solve, as opposed to feeling the horror of seeing a deceased fellow human, or feeling too overwhelmed if it's someone he knew. Because of this, it's easy for him to get lost in his work and feel totally disconnected while investigating.

[bwat5-blog]

Spoiler Warning for Arcane in its entirety*

An honest look at Silco

Let me start by saying Silco is a great character. The revolutionary who fell prey to “The End Justifies The Means” is a trope that rarely feels fresh or interesting these days, but Silco does. You never doubt his love for his home or for the ideal of what it could be. And like many of the characters, he starts off in the right. The oppression and abuse of the under-city is deplorable on every level. His best friend tries to kill him due to everything they go through and he is left alone, maimed and friendless. However, unlike Jinx or Caitlyn, Silco never finds his way back from the darkness he falls into and its evident in everything he does.

1. Intimidates a young street kid into being mutated by Shimmer

2. Finances the creation of Shimmer in general, experimenting on animals and people (HIS OWN PEOPLE) and flooding the under-city with it creating mutated addicts among other things

3. Uses the shimmer mutant he forced the boy to become to murder the sheriff of piltover ,who had actually tried to keep the enforcers out of the under-city so he can install his own corrupt puppet sheriff Marcus

4. Despite the fact that he promised to make a better Zaun for Felicia’s children, and that he would know who Vi and Powder are, he is completely prepared to murder them both.

5. Various gangster shit. Killing those he wishes, threatening children, all the classics

But of course, Silco’s most important role in this tale is his relationship with Powder/Jinx. The violence between Vander and Silco is tragic. We even see sadness and regret in Silco over what he believes to be Vander’s death. But it is undeniable that through the events he instigates by taking Vander he ends up becoming a “Father” to powder, and the end result is the birth of Jinx.

Silco made Jinx:

1. When Silco finds Powder, she is afraid, overcome with guilt, angry, heartbroken and hurt. Rather than take her and help her through any sort of healthy grieving, Silco weaponizes her. He speaks of revenge, “We’ll show them all”.

2. I don’t doubt Silco loves Jinx as his daughter. The issue is that Silco’s idea and concept of Love are broken. Powder needed help and support overcoming her grief and doubt regarding her role in her families deaths. Instead, she was taught to kill, to consider anyone not “us” as the enemy. “Everyone betrays us Jinx”.

3. We need only look at Jinx’s mental state after years of living with Silco to see how his raising her has changed her. She is not doing well. She is manic, aggressive, hallucinating voices and visions of her dead family, and is still overcome with guilt and self hatred.

4. Upon finding out Vi is alive, Silco immediately moves to have her killed and discredit her to Jinx. Even knowing the “daughter” he loves is buried under so much guilt and loss, he makes every attempt to deny her that catharsis.

5. During Jinx’s dinner party, Silco makes every effort to convince Jinx to murder her own sister, and to turn away from who she truly is.

Jinx tells us (the audience) in season 2 that things are much quieter in her head with Silco gone. In fact we only see him (apparition) twice. When Isha is taken, and when Isha is killed. Now of course Jinx misses him. We see this how she speaks to his chair, smells his coat, and longs for the idea of how things might have been different if Silco had found Vanders letter. But overall without him she is undeniably more at peace.

In the end, i think its fair to say that Silco created Jinx. Yes jinx tells Vi it was her, but at that moment is the same Jinx who tries to make Vi choose to have Caitlyn killed, even knowing Vi’s feelings for the enforcer. And all born out of uncontrollable jealousy and paranoia. It’s important to remember, Jinx is what was left after Powder was, in a way, destroyed. And I’m not trying to get deep on alternate personalities or anything, just keeping it basic:

1. “Powder fell down a well”- She doesn’t consider herself that person

2. “You got the name right”- She once again confirms she IS Jinx

3. Her big moment of acceptance at the end of the show, arriving at the head of the undercity forces and saving the day, is as Jinx. And thats not a bad thing. She is a changed person and the whole point is her forgiving herself, breaking the cycle, and moving forward

So with all of that considered, i say to all you “Silco was such a good daddy” folks, I disagree. He loved her the best way he knew how. He scooped that terrified little girl named Powder into his arms, and warped her until only Jinx remained.

**side note I am NOT judging anyone who loves Silco. I think he is fascinating. Just my observations. Once again to anyone bored enough to read my blathering I appreciate you*

[moonpie016]

Y'know, I never really thought about how (in my own interpretation, headcanon??) of how Heart became blind.

Other than being annoyed by how contradictory I made his vision previously, I never really made a reason as to why he just can't see. And I could say that Mind or Soul caused it. But...for me it wouldn't really fit. Most likely would make sense for the two ("intimidating") figures of the headspace with aggression, would cause such a thing.

But. Since I write and portray Soul with some understanding and more patience to everything, and Mind wouldn't stoop down low to Heart's actions (unless necessary).

I figured, ... why not themself?

---

CW/TW:

The rest of this will mention themes of self mutilation/harm (to the eyes), guilt/regret, and other things that might be uncomfortable.

(the eye description is a physical representation to me of blocking things out, like memories, actions, anything. So while this includes these mentions, the only thing it reflects is the mental/internal wording of it. Nothing actually physical. (If that's a worry, I'm just here to clarify.)

---

---

I don't know what I'm doing.

I thought of this while daydreaming, rereading my work and just thinking..

I would think that after so much that would happen to HMS, Heart in an instance, fueled with anger and hate, hate for their actions, everything that they chose to do.

Thinking that he could've done more and everything would be fine. That everything would all blow over and be just how things were before. He'd perk up a smile, a small teasing remark, anything to potentially cheer his siblings up.

That doesn't happen. He doesn't smile, he doesn't lift everyone's spirits up, he puts Whole into a depressive state that lasts for weeks, a month, time isn't even a thought in his mind. If he could prevent everything from happening, then just maybe, he wouldn't have to keep seeing it every day. Seeing her face. (In a way, Love Interest could represent in a way past mistakes, relationships, just past stuff in general.)

So, he with all his might, thinking that it'll fix everything, it will if he didn't have to see anything bad happen ever again.

While this is... something of an interpretation. I guess it could reflect my own state of.. doing things? Like the saying is, "out of sight, out of mind". (I think.) If Heart can't see what's causing him and their vessel this pain, then.. everything will work out faster.

It doesn't get reversed, the loop isn't a time loop. Nothing gets reversed. It stays. Not all the time. Sometimes the scars stay or peak through. And while it would be better to ignore them. ..it wouldn't be good in the long run.

And sometimes expressing or talking about it just helps. Painful, yet freeing. Even if for a little moment.

Maybe that's why Heart is something to me. Emotions are a tough thing to understand. Why we did this, why we did that. And..Heart ripping his own eyes out of his sockets, leaving just this purple scarring.. Again with the violence being depicted here as not of malice, or hate, (like full blown hatred to kill each other) or a "punishment". He's just. Him.

Through every terrible outburst, comes more understanding to work it out. Still not the best at handling things under intense clouded gazes, vision pointed at the one thing that's on your mind. And you just explode.

And in some cases, you do things that hurt you, internally or externally. (More internally for Heart, yet still somehow both.)

The two, to the best of their abilities, try to work things out. Even though Soul going through the whole (no pun intended) "out of sight, out of mind" tactic. And even Mind.

Them acknowledging it and growing from it is lots better. They'll get stuck, Heart will get stuck in his anxieties and reminders. But he has comfort. It's not all good. But not all bad either.

---

Ok, I wasn't expecting to go off this long. I thought I was going to explain this in...how many numbered paragraphs, and be done. But I guess I had more to express.

I think what makes writing these guys so...easy somehow? Is just looking into my own head and piecing things on them that would make sense. To my understanding of everything at least. Is this a perfect explanation? Probably not at all. But I had a nice yet interesting time writing this.

And this wasn't written with sad intent, I just wanted to ramble about Heart and his everything.

Man's has flaws. Flaws exist. (<- Saying this in a non causal way, by the way.)

Hope you all have a good day, and.. enjoy?

---

[hearts-hunger]

the thing about tlou hbo's portrayal of joel and ellie is that it feels very much like a way to retcon their characters to make tlou2/the second season of the show seem even remotely believable.

you have to have ellie be snarky and aggressive and bitchy from the get go for it to make sense that she becomes cold and distant and hateful in the second game/season. because an innocent eager child who loves and trusts very easily is not realistically going to become a closed off loner spree killer. so you change her character and try to show that she was always angry and violent and closed off from affection and hope and kindness. she was never vulnerable and childlike. she was never obedient to adults or eager to please. she was never scared and wanting a hand to hold. she was always aloof, never cared about making people like her. she was always domineering, rude, vengeful, and mean-spirited.

you have to nerf joel's character too, because ellie can't be subject to a disciplined, stoic, consistent, trustworthy authority figure. because it makes no sense for her to be a feral little freak if she has a guardian who takes care of her, praises her efforts to please and obey him, is one hundred percent of the time a dependable and stable and competent adult. so you make him someone ellie would be weak and stupid to love, someone who is emotionally volatile, subject to intense mood swings of aggression, panic, grief, someone who is impulsive and shown from the first moment to be led by the people around him. you make joel into a needy, guts-spilling-out kind of person who parentifies this oddly girlboss child who knows better than him, fights better than him, and seems to not really need him. you make joel a crumbling mess who can’t really protect ellie because he's too busy crying or beating someone to death in a haze of the emotion that rules him. you make him into someone who isn't strong enough to be her safe place, who can't rescue her, who can't be a father to her.

the dynamic of tlou1 only works with a kind, gruff, adult who actually does know better than the eager, genuine kid who wiggles her way into the adult's heart. when it's a little girl softening the heart of a father who's forgotten how to love and hope but just needs a reminder. when it's a man who does right by this child because he knows what's in her best interest and has the strength of will to do it.

it doesn't work if it's a miserable, unwieldy adult who needs to learn some life skills from the prickly, aggressive kid who somehow gets the adult to use his emotional volatility to kill for her. when it's a match and a fuse just waiting to be lit. when it's some all-wise teenage punk and a weepy grownup with no ability to make the right decision because he's too in his own head. when the kid knows best and the adult screws it up so bad that the foolproof plan to save the world goes completely to hell.

now, tlou2 works with that dynamic — the whole narrative of the second game blames joel for his selfishness and weakness and nails ellie to the wall for her violence and coldness. joel fucked everything up because he was a blubbering, uncontrollable, panic-ridden idiot who wasn't strong enough to make the necessary sacrifice. ellie should have died on that operating table like she knew she needed to, because the world would be a better place, because the only thing she's capable of in life is revenge, hatred, betrayal, sarcasm, iciness, anger, sharpness of tongue and sharpness of blade. she is not hopeful or good or loving or trusting or open hearted. she deserved to die for everyone else, and now that she didn't, we all get to suffer and so does she. she's a shitty person who doesn't want to be better, even as a kid, and there's no changing her. too bad she missed her one chance to make a positive impact on the world because of some selfish moron who can barely function because of his emotional distress.

the problem is that the dynamic needed for the second game’s message to work is just not present in the first game. joel is a man's man, a good father, a strong person mentally and physically. ellie is a kindhearted child, one who strives to please joel and make him like her, a spunky and likeable little girl. but the creators of the first game hate that now, apparently, or look down on it as naive and unrealistic. even though they made it. and i think their solution is to retcon the first game's story with the show, and just straight up attempt to gaslight audiences into thinking that's all the first game ever was. all the things you liked about the first game? they suck and so do you. fuck you for liking them and wanting them reflected in the show. truly.

[felassanis]

I do view John's motive for atoning the deputy initially being because he doesn't want to risk Joseph's anger/disapproval. Also, because of course, he believes Joseph when he says his chance of getting into Eden hinges upon the atonement of this one deputy. So, like a self-preservation thing to a certain degree. Even if he doesn't understand why Joseph wants the Deputy, he will do as he's told.

Because if the Baptism thing is anything to go off. John did not think the deputy was worth the effort of converting.

But then I think it becomes more than that. I think John sees himself in the Deputy. In all their violence and Wrath. And it's then that John wants to save them for real.

He's reminded of Joseph's lesson. "Those who reject us are in need of our guidance more,". He thinks with utter loathing of who he was before the project. Of how Joseph saved him. How he views the Deputy, and realises (in his mind) that they are in need of saving THE MOST. Because HE needed saving too.

How he went his entire childhood abused and beaten and made to feel small and helpless. Finally, FINALLY Joseph comes back into his life, and for the first time (again in John's mind, not reality wise), he is SAVED. Someone WANTED to save him. And nobody has wanted to since Jacob. The way Joseph is so good at making people feel special and seen is likely something he wants to bestow upon the deputy.

He wants to save someone who he views was in the same position as him because for so long, no one wanted to save him. That's why John expresses so much disappointment during the aerial fight. You could've been so much more. Put that wrath and that inescapable urge for violence for a better purpose. Its why the last words he ever says to them is wishing for God to have mercy on their soul.

(Also top that off with the burning hatred and aggression he treats them with because its a projection of his own self loathing at seeing someone so intertwined with him acting like the worst part of himself and doubling down on it. But so desperate to redeem you in his eyes because it's also redeeming him and he's in love with you)

[bloodlegacies]

Not really related to my previous ask, but still sort of on brand with the overall current asks. It's funny how while I dislike Hayden's father and my MC does too, it's not really true hatred either. I feel like my MC resents his own father more, even if he still loves him too.

My MC is pretty gentle all things considered, and he really dislikes fighting and killing - always did. He WILL do both if he has to protect his people or his close ones, or even just random innocent people who may be in trouble. He even killed everyone during that attack when he lost his mother. But the torture, the executions of defenseless prisoners and what not? That's something he despises more than anything. I feel like even if ultimately he loves his father, part of him also hates him for trying to force him to do these things, or simply for how okay he seems to be with it in general. It's sort of like "that ISN'T okay, and it DOESN'T help" - he didn't need to have killed maimed people before the attack to kill the enemies there, and at least there he fought them - even if it was still very one sided in terms of power.

So really, as much as he dislikes some of the king's actions, I think at the end of the day his goal will be to change the way things are done in his own territory instead of trying to change the kingdom.

It makes sense the mc, and I understand. Eleazar can be difficult and cruel in the eyes of many, although he still cares, and is seen as an example by the Darians, precisely because of the protection and violence he is willing to commit for those he cares about. Petrus also has certain prejudices and grudges against the Darians that will be difficult to change, and haven't changed much, even after centuries. The resentment is great, both between Petrus and the Darians and the people who live in the regions. It's a passive-aggressive feud, you might say, and the king is an example of this, and both in a way mirror each other. They all try to preserve their lineage and their heirs to make themselves better, to protect their people, but they do it in their own ways. And they're not always the best... Although in their view it is.

[oscconfessions]

Hot take but why are Cabby and Suitcase haters one in the same, if ykyk hate what you want ig but why so, aggressive abt it, why go into places that are all for this character and then start yapping abt how much you hate the character

then complain… when ppl tell u to stop… like you put urself in this situation… you could’ve avoided that… this rlly goes for all haters of characters who intentionally bother fans of said character for whatever reason like just hate with other haters why bother going into spaces where you know it’s gonna be a fan club of a character hate I don’t understand

Back to cabcase // not the ship but calling ‘em cabcase to address same issues // but erm… do you guys have a problem with women winning or… “ugh ur reaching this is not misogynistic!! biggest reach ever u have no real reasons!!”

Idkkk chat I think constantly berating and belittling two characters for being ‘too emotional and sensitive’ as well as actively believing the only reason they won is bc they have mental issues is… iffy… just maybe…

and just to b sure I don’t come off as bias. I WANTED KNIFE TO WIN. I WANTED HIM TO WIN SO BADDD UGHHHHHH!!! WDYM HE DIDNT WIN!!!!

But watching these Case haters come out of no where… saying shit like “oh I’ve always hated Suitcase” “She was better when she spoke less” “She only won bc she’s a mentally ill woman” girl don’t pmo I know what you are and nobody is surprised to see that these are the same ppl who were mad when Cabby won; and fyi again I WANTED BALLOON TO WIN TOO UGHHHHHH I CAN NEVER WINNNNNNNN

But genuinely all of this shit that’s targeted towards Cabcase feels so misogynistic it’s not even funny especially the “over dramatic” bits

fym overdramatic?? If you got your reality shattered or constantly felt you had to prove you weren’t a manipulative monster you would probably “raise your voice a little” too

Balloon can be overdramatic, ofc he can be overdramatic he’s a goddamn poet. A POET. He literally screams and yells and raises his voice more than Suitcase ever did and y’all wanna call her overdramatic and whiny?

Knife literally killed ppl lol! He has a Dora doll as a comfort item! // good for him // He resorts to violence as his first instinct to emotional turmoil!! When he got his reality shattered same time as Case He got so overwhelmed with his anger (which is an emotion) he “DRAMATICALLY” flew across the room to punch that CEO (dramatically) but Suits crying?? CRYING THAT UR NOT REAL?? That’s too far!!! Be a man!!

Cabby crying?? Cabby being angry?? Bc she’s afraid she’ll never be anything more than just a screw up? No matter how hard she tries?? That’s too much!! She’s being overdramatic!! Wahwahwah!! She needs to “man” up!!

I will never ever fw a cabcase hater, I live by the // hate what you wanna hate, love what you wanna love // mentality. But as somebody who could probably care less for these two winners and was literally pissed tf when they won… the hatred they get is so blatantly rooted in the fact they’re women. And no matter how much I bring up these talking points bitches will still go and yell “REACHING WAAAA REACHINGGGG UGGHHHH THEYRE FICTIONALLL” while simultaneously saying the most absurd things abt real women // fiction affects reality //

If you hate cabcase, more power to you. If you actively put down ppl who love cabcase I’ll be the first to tell you that you are a very miserable kind of person.

Hate responsibly ig. Idgaf it’s midnight I’m tired I’m a ghostly ghoul I’m a lesbian protector I’m Knife from Inanimate Insanity and I should’ve won and hating women is not cool goodnight or don’t I guess

.

[fallenstar193]

Secret’s of the Night Part 2

Micheal Corleone x Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N and Michael’s relationship has deepened much more. Though the cracks begin to show behind closed doors. But even so, nothing will tear them apart.

Y/N and Michael weren't what people would call a happy, well-balanced couple.

It wasn't because they didn't love one another, which they did, nor because they weren't happy in each other's arms, which they were. But no matter how much they adored one another, their relationship was anything but well-balanced and normal.

Michael had grown as a Don more and more so with each passing month, his need for control and violence becoming second nature to the young Italian-American man.

That meant that Y/N had to deal with his volatile mood swings, as well as his late-night meetings and violent outbursts. There was no question he was a different man from the young boy he had once been before his father died. He was even different from the man Y/N had married only a year before.

Being his third wife wasn't easy either. Especially not when the mother of his children was still in his life and loathed Y/N with a fit of searing anger no one could control.

Every time she arrived to drop off the children, Kay made a point of talking down to Y/N, even when Michael warned her multiple times, not to any longer.

But what could Michael do? He had slapped his ex-wife while they were still married, but short of having the mother of his children killed, he couldn't entirely stop that sharp tongue even if he tried.

Once or twice Michael had slapped his ex-wife across the face to calm her down, but this only managed to make Kay's hatred toward Y/N grow even stronger.

"You're just a silly entertainment for him, and little more," She once hissed at Y/N as the children rushed into their father's study to let him know they had arrived.

"I'm nothing of the sort," Y/N hissed back, crossing her arms before her chest. Y/N knew better than to jump at the older woman; it would be insane to attack the mother of Michael's children. She just had to deal with her until her jealousy died away over time. That didn't mean she couldn't talk back to her and put Kay back in her place. "I might have been his lover once, but now I have a ring around my finger. I don't see one around yours."

"I'm the one that divorced him, slut. He wouldn't have given you the time of day if I hadn't kicked him to the curve."

"Keep dreaming," Y/N replied, rolling her eyes and playing with her wedding ring, just to aggravate Kay. "He ran to me whenever you turned your back on him."

The look on Kay's face made it clear she was just about ready to jump on his ex's new wife when Michael entered the living room with his children in tow.

"What's going on here?" He asked, staring harshly at his ex-wife. She just pursed her lips and shook her head forcefully.

"Nothing. I was just about to leave." Kay replied, and Michael agreed at once.

"Yes, you better do that. Children, say goodbye to your mother." He said, and the children kissed Kay goodbye.

"I'll see you on Monday," She told them tenderly, caressing her kids' heads before turning around and leaving the house she had once lived in, yet not before shooting a harsh glare Y/N's way.

If looks could kill... Y/N thought, but she decided to brush it off. After all, Kay was now alone, and she had won the man they were both bickering over a long time ago.

Kay showing up at their place wasn't helping their relationship get any better, that was for sure.

Michael and Y/N seemed to be arguing more and more often. Though Y/N didn't mind him being a mafia boss as Kay had, she did have a problem with him coming back so late most nights, obsessing over his business instead of spending time with her.

His attitude was also less patient than ever and more aggressive, and though Y/N adored being spanked and pinned down during sex, that didn't mean she wanted to have him snapping at her all day long.

"You're becoming a real jackass," He hissed his way one afternoon after yet another argument over God-only knew what.

"And you're being insufferable, Y/N. Can't you give me a little break? I already have enough people wanting things of me. Everyone seems to want something from the Corleone family!"

"It's what you've always wanted, isn't it, Michael?!" She asked back, crossing her arms defensively. "Why do you always have to be so angry, so aggressive? I love being around you, Michael, but you need to remind me you are still in love with me from time to time."

"Oh, don't say that Y/N, you know I love you," He whispered, wrapping his arms around her body hotly, just like he used to back when they were lovers. Michael pulled her into his embrace, pinning the young woman against his chest sensually.

They kissed so passionately, their tongues dancing the same kind of dangerous tango they would every time they were about to make love.

Just then, though, someone knocked at the door, and Michael reluctantly let go of his wife.

"What is it?!" He snapped, turning around and glaring at one of his employees, who quietly entered the bedroom.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Don Corleone. It's time for the meeting you asked me to remind you of."

Michael pursed his lips and nodded, dismissing the man in the dark suit before turning around to face his wife.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'll be back before midnight, and I can show you how much I adore you then," He said, trying to grab her hands, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

"Whatever you say, Michael," She replied sharply, walking away from her darling husband. No matter how much she loved him, she also needed company, and he seemed unable or unwilling to provide her with it.

That was precisely how Y/N began growing closer to one of Michael's close friends, Luca.

Luca was around Michael's age, and of course, belonged to his organization. He wasn't as high up in the family, which meant he had more time than the Don to enjoy his private time. He still hung around the Corleone household often, and bit by bit, he took a shinning for the young, lonely Y/N.

"I can stay for a cup of coffee if you need a bit of company," He offered her one night, just as he was getting ready to leave. Michael wasn't there, as usual, and feeling lonesome, Y/N immediately agreed.

"Sure, that sounds lovely!" She replied at once and asked one of the maids to prepare them two cups of coffee and a few pie slices.

That was the first night they started hanging out together, but certainly not the last one.

It wasn't like they were doing anything wrong. They were never together in her bedroom, always chatting in the living room or out in the garden.

They spent hour upon hour chatting idly, drinking coffee or tea and simply enjoying each other's company. It was nothing more than a simple friendship, though Y/N noticed how he seemed interested in something more from time to time.

Since he never made a move, never attempted to kiss her or even take her hand, she decided to turn a blind eye to this fact. As long as he acted as her friend and confidant, she wouldn't ask him to leave her alone.

She needed a friend in her life, after all, someone to keep her company and make her smile through the day. Michael wasn't there for her, and it wasn't exactly easy for a mob wife to make new friends, so Luca was the best alternative out there.

For a few months, everything seemed to be going well. With Luca there to offer an ear and a friendly smile, Y/N was feeling better about her lonely days. She was even more patient with Michael's erratic schedule and his occasional bad mood.

She assumed he knew about the time she spent with his friend since nothing in that household was truly a secret. Y/N was confident that if Michael had a problem with it all, she would have found out about it a long time ago!

"He's surely happy that I have someone to talk to. We're getting along better now. Since it's his friend, he knows he can trust this man around me," She told herself, though nothing could have been further from the truth.

Because Michael had no idea Y/N had been hanging out two or three times a week with his old friend, and the moment he found out about their meetings, he would immediately assume the worse.

It was a rainy night when Michael entered the Corleone household, escorted by three of his bodyguards as usual. Y/N was chatting with Luca in the living room, giggling at a silly joke he told her.

The instant Michael heard his wife laughing that way, he immediately stormed into the room. Even though the door was open and anyone could have walked in on them, just seeing Luca sitting by his wife's side was enough to make him go red in the face, his lips becoming a thin, angry line.

"Michael, hi! Is everything ok?" Y/N asked, standing up as she noticed how livid her husband is. "What's wrong, honey?"

"What is he doing here?" Michael demanded at once, staring at his wife and then at his friend. "At this time of night in my living room, with my wife?!"

"Michael, it's not what you think!" Luca replied at once, standing up, looking worried and pale. It was then that Y/N realized Michael had no idea about their meetings. Luca had never told him, for some reason!

What was simply an innocent chat among two friends had become something far more suspicious all of a sudden, and seeing Michael's furious expression let her know something awful was about to happen in that room.

"You have no right to be alone with my wife!" Michael screamed harshly, clearly so furiously, so livid and red-faced.

"Michael, it's not like that!" Y/N replied, trying to grab his arm tenderly, but he stepped away. "We're just chatting, we're good friends, and I can speak to him when you are busy!"

"So he's a replacement?!"

"No, it's not like that; I'm serious! He's just a friend!"

"I want to make this clear, Y/N," He said awfully quietly, almost in a whisper, which made Y/N know something horrible was about to happen. "You belong to me and to no one else. You are my wife, and you're not going to abandon me like Kay did. I love you, you are mine, and that's final."

But Michael didn't hurt his wife. He would never hurt her, not in a million years, even if he did sometimes lose his temper. Instead, he turned to face his old friend, who tried in vain to reason with the Don.

Michael refused to listen to reason, and, sliding his hand in his side pocket, he pulled out a gun and aimed it at Luca. His aim was perfect as he shot two single times: One in the heart, the next one through the forehead.

It was so quick, so harsh and cold-blooded that it took Y/N a full moment to even be able to react. She stood there, wide-eyed and shocked until she could finally snap out of it, screaming in horror as she took a step back.

"What the hell did you do?!" She asked, her heart going a million miles an hour.

"Come with me," He demanded, grabbing her hand and pulling at it, guiding his wife out the living room and into the corridor. "Get rid of the body," He told the bodyguards before dragging Y/N upstairs.

Once they had stepped into their bedroom, Michael closed the door behind them and turned to face Y/N.

"You are mine, Y/N, now and forever." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her slender body and pulling her close.

"How could you make such a mess?! I told you we are only friends!" She protested, but he wouldn't allow her to speak any further. He silenced her, not with a gun but with his lips. Their kiss was impossibly passionate, tongues dancing together, his hands caressing her body in ways that drove the young beauty crazy with desire.

He guided her toward their bed, and oh, how he undressed her, how he stroked her gorgeous body. He was filled with a blind passion she could not and would not control. Y/N gave herself into his desires. Though she was mad he had made such a mess, killing poor Luca, she was delighted he adored her in such a way that he would kill to keep her by his side.

Soon they were lying naked on the bed, their clothes pooling messily on the floor.

"You're perfect, my beautiful wife... you're never going to abandon me. You are mine now and forever," He grunted against her skin as he kissed her neck hotly. She closed her eyes and stretched out her neck to allow him to nibble at it with growing passion.

Michael stroked her nipples sensually, flickering them from side to side, claiming over her body as she gave in to the passion of their intense relationship.

He was not perfect, yet he was hers, and she was his, and that would never change!

Y/N began caressing his back hotly as he pinned her hard against the bed, his hands everywhere, her skin so hot, her body so ready for his touch.

She felt his cock pressed against her inner thigh, and oh how she gasped, aching to be fucked, to feel his, fully his!

"I want your tongue on my cock, beautiful. I want to feel your lips wrapped around me," He grunted, sliding off her and allowing her to get between his legs instead, ready to show to her husband how much she adored him, even after the mess he had made downstairs.

She licked it gently at first, enjoying the taste and smell of his arousal. But pretty soon, her lips were wrapped around his bulbous head, and she was moving down on him, taking every last inch into her eager mouth.

Y/N began twirling her tongue around it passionately, bobbing her head up and down her husband's cock. Her lips and tongue explored his length as Michael panted and rested his hand on her head.

She was so aroused by his moans and grunts, and she began moving her head up and down his shaft faster than before, sucking him with an intense, blind passion!

She felt his long, calloused fingers wrapping around her hair, helping her keep up her pace. And oh, how he grunted as she rolled her tongue around his bulbous head, gulping down his precum with delight and arousal.

"Fuck, yes! I need to be inside you so badly!" He grunted, and soon he forced her to slide off his cock, a string of precum and drool connecting his crown to her lips for an instant.

He positioned himself behind her, prompting Y/N to get on all fours, his favorite position to fuck her in. He could spank her so easily while making love passionately to her from behind.

"Oh, god! Yes, Michael, yes," Y/N panted as the Don thrust hard inside her, his cock plunging inside her as powerfully as ever.

And so Michael began to move behind her, his hips rolling all the way back before he thrust hard inside her. With each new thrust, a spank would arrive as well, until her ass was red and sore, and Y/N was dripping with arousal.

"Fuck, your pussy's perfection, Y/N," He grunted, feeling her walls clenching so hard around his cock.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She moaned loudly, panting hard as they made passionate, sensual love. They rarely, if ever, made sweet love. It simply wasn't their style.

"I love you, Y/N... you are mine!" He grunted from behind, plunging himself harder and harder inside her tight sex.

Her stunning boobs bounced back and forth with each new thrust, filling the room with the sounds of their arousal, of their bodies crashing together.

She moaned again and again, throwing her head back and whimpering as his hand came crashing down against her ass. It was so red and sore, but she didn't ask him to stop: she loved every minute of it!

The passionate, wild love for what felt like hours, until their bodies were covered in perspiration and her sex was filled with his cum.

He was so possessive of her, and Y/N adored every instant of it.

They ended up falling asleep in each other's arms, exhausted and elated, feeling that deep connection linking them together forever only grew stronger.

Months slipped by after that fateful night, and though things were never quite easy, something seemed to have improved in their relationship.

Y/N soon began feeling nauseous and uncomfortable, though, her body so overly sensitive to any small touch. Even smells that never bothered her before were starting to be a problem.

She had an inkling about what might be causing these issues, and so, without telling Michael about it, the young beauty bought a pregnancy test.

Sliding into the bathroom late one night, she peed on the tiny stick and sat there, waiting, feeling her heart beating so fast in her chest.

"Oh my god..." She whispered as the test came out positive.

Michael was getting ready to sleep by the time she leaped into their bed, embracing him so tightly and covering his face with excited kisses.

"Hey, hey," He chuckled, holding her close and kissing her back. "What's got you so excited, beautiful?"

"Oh, Michael, you won't believe it!" She squealed, smiling so brightly, so beautifully. "I'm pregnant!"

He stared at her with stunned silence for an instant before a huge grin filled his face, and Michael kissed Y/N once more, this time with an impossible-to-miss glee going hand in hand with his passion for her.

"I can't believe it! It's the best news I've heard in a long time!" He exclaimed, holding her so tightly, caressing her belly, and covering her with sweet kisses.

They made love that night, and the following morning, Michael arranged for them to visit the same doctor that had helped deliver his other two children.

As she laid on the gurney, and the doctor applied a generous layer of gel on her belly, Michael held Y/N's hand tenderly, clearly filled with joy about this turn of events.

But the surprises were far from over as the ultrasound began.

"Here's your baby, here's its heartbeat and... oh, wait!" The doctor exclaimed, continuing to slide the ultrasound probe across Y/N's belly. "Congratulations, mom and dad... it's twins!"

"Twins?!" Y/N and Michael exclaimed at the same time.

"Oh, yes, no question about it... look! Here you have one of your babies, and here's the other!"

Y/N and Michael stared at one another in stunned silence for a moment before an excited smile began to spread across their faces.

"Is that ok?" She whispered sweetly, and he nodded at once, holding her hand even harder than before, with such love and devotion.

"It's more than ok, my love. I can't wait to meet our twins." He assured her, kissing his wife lovingly. Y/N knew that no matter how rocky their marriage could get from time to time, they'd always be together.

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

Thoughts

The usual personality of these sly things could be attributed as callous, cruel and cold. They have their deeply ingrained purpose to feed. Food equals energy to better mimic their prey, to take down said prey, and to make more of themselves.

Mates however are a rare occurrence, Pretenders do not exist within a cohesive society like say Cybertronians do. They are scattered and hiding all over the universe, to add another barrier when it comes to reproducing all of their genetic markers are different. Every pretender has a different “set” of forms inherited through genetic memory, among any they study and memorize. This can lead to problems with genetic compatibility if they are too estranged from one another.

That leads to a sad low among them for ever actually having family units. If a male meets a female, their natural genetic markers make themselves clear and whether they can mate and have children. If its a no they, depending on their personalities, values ect. Will either give one another a while of physical comfort, or use this new source of food. 

If they can have children they do so, depending on their situation they may move on from each other after the deed is done. Too many of them in one place could put them all in danger, so the father, usually leaves. (The children may stay, but the mother usually sends them away if things get dangerous.)

This again is all set by the culture they are hiding in, the morals of the pair. Some stay together and stay mated for life, the bond is irrefutable and leaving after too much time together is impossible. Their early life of being alone and forever paranoid leads to iron bonds between mates.

Other than that Pretenders will try to avoid others like them. If they meet it would most likely end in violence, and the sure point of cannibalism. Others with the ability to expose them are a risk they cannot take.

Again, the point in which they circle around is the ability to feed. Changing all of your cells to mimic another species, and then tampering with the changes indefinitely, takes a copious amount of energy. Their instincts and inner workings overwhelm any and most personality when it comes to the need to eat. A pretender can become rather close with others of another species, but if they do not eat and the bond isn't beyond acquaintances, that section of their brain wont pull back. It would take a huge amount of starvation for a Pretender to be overwhelmed by his instincts in such a way, but its always a chance.

If they become part of a family unit, become adopted into their culture instead of just residing in it, their diet may change. But again if starvation occurs and they cannot refuel-

Aggression, irritability. 

The pretender may lock himself away.

Weakness and less movement.

Paranoia may skyrocket. 

Depression and self hatred is common, as expected if you start salivating over your family’s heartbeat.

If it goes on long enough the natural instincts will take over completely, for survival.

However, the instincts may take on a new form if the Pretender is devoted, hunting instincts would try to curve around the family members. The need to protect and defend their families at any cost would take its place(being lonely can lead to some clingy people). Especially their secrets.

A pretender’s life is a secret, their real names, their families. Survival is secrecy. Telling a secret to a pretender would mean it never touched the air again. So if any other creature tried to dig up dirt on them or their family, they would instinctively take it as a dangerous threat that should be eliminated. Whether they act on it depends.

A pretender is a slave to his instincts, in every way. Don't take this as them being stupid though, or just animal minded. They are scarily intelligent, with amazing memories. They can understand social dynamics if given enough time to study, feel deep love, and devotion beyond reason. But they are also extremely paranoid, deeply suspicious, hard to get close to and vicious. They hold grudges forever. If a Pretender gets exposed by a family member, they wont see him again.

Ever.

(Just some not so well organized thoughts on Pretenders. @quibble-auk maybe this isn't disappointing, thought you may wanna know some of this stuff for the future. Perfect au or not :D )

[clanoftheearthmother]

Garahirn Grimtotem

Born to Grimtotem warriors, the Tauren was raised by the tribe on a dogma of hatred and violence. He spent his days carrying materials for the tribes smiths as they fashioned weapons of war, and his nights falling asleep to the battle stories of the tribes raiders. Despite the brawny physique the calf sported as a result of constantly lifting ingots and anvils, he showed little aptitude for combat. In all of his training he was berated for his clumsy footwork and his weak sword-arm. The most concerning issue for the tribes Elders though was the child’s lack of killer instinct. In all of the calves sparring rounds he would fail to press any advantage he would win, preferring instead to hang back and prepare his defensives for a counter attack. For a tribe built on the belief of supremacy over others, this was a problem. For years the tribes warriors would work with the child, impressing the importance of aggression in pursuit of the tribes goals, but one by one they resigned from tutoring him, frustrated and enraged by the youths lack of drive and assertiveness.

Deemed a liability in combat he was assigned permanently to the role of blacksmithing; a position afforded great honour for a battle-hardened elder, but great shame for one as young as he. Thus Garahirn spent the early ears of his adolescence under the tutelage of Elder Kwahrol, who though the subject of a great many battle songs, was weary of violence and grateful for the company. For 3 long years he worked to melt down and reforge the metals that the raiders returned with. He ignored the disdainful looks they shot him and focused on cladding them in the highest quality equipment he could forge.

In his 14th winter a famine gripped the tribe, leading to infighting and unrest within the Grimtotem. Several Elders were supplanted by young upstarts dissatisfied with their efforts to provide for the community. This new regime brought with it a cleansing of those deemed superfluous by the leadership. Elder Kwahrol knew that this did not bode well for the smithing pair and though he didn't voice these concerns to Gara, he crafted a plan to spare him. The youth was sent on a mining expedition to the eastern edge of Mulgore. Though this was not an uncommon excursion for him, the location Kwahrol directed him to was not one Gara had visited before. Knowing better than to question the Elders instructions, he set out immediately armed with a pickaxe, buckler and knapsack. He never made it to his destination. As he approached the area marked on his map he was accosted by a group of Thunder Bluff Braves. They hauled him back to the city where the guards searched his knapsack. Within they found a strange letter.

"Whomever finds this young calf I beg you spare him. Though he was born a Grimtotem, he was never meant for this life. He was blessed with a gentle soul that no amount of training was able to break. He harbours a great love for smithing and the crafting of fine metal works. Our tribe has suffered greatly this season and I'm sure the Elders will not suffer him much longer with our sparse resources. If able to I ask that you look past the sins of our tribe and take him into your care."

--

And so it was that Garahirn was welcomed, despite his heritage, into the myriad tribes of the Horde Tauren. He quickly established himself as one of the foremost smiths in Thunder Bluff and spent countless hours discussing techniques with artisans of all professions. Before long he had his own forge and was sought after for projects of all sizes. One such request came from Aponi Brightmane. The head of the newly formed Sunwalkers, Brightmane entered his smithy to request the creation of arms for order. Behind the paladin, shuffled a young calf no older than he. She wore her hair in a braid on her right flank and as she looked at Garahirn with her piercing azure eyes, she gasped audibly. It may have been her exclamation, or that Gara felt he had never seen a more beautiful Tauren, but whatever the reason, he tripped, spilling the half dozen scabbards that he was carrying across the tent floor. As he gathered up the results of his clumsiness, he heard the two women exchanging hushed whispers.

"Him? Are you sure?" "Yes mother. I'm certain. It's almost as bright as yours" "I see"

The elder of the two women strolled over and offered Garahirn her hand. He took it, meekly as she explained the exchange.

"I had come to find the craftsman I'd heard worked here, said to produce great works the like of which are rare even in the great cities of the elves. It seems I've found something more." She paused, regarding the youth slowly. "My daughter has a gift. She is able to see the aura of those blessed by the children of The Earth Mother; be it Mu'sha, or in your case, An'she. While most of our people bare some level of connection to both, a few are afforded something far more incredible."

Gara looked from Aponi to her daughter, not quite sure what the former was talking about, but certain that her child was, as she said, incredibly special.

Aponi bade him come with them to the heart of their order and while he was reticent to leave his forge, something from within told him that he needed to see what she had to offer.

Over the following years the young Grimtotem learned of a The Earth Mother, An'she, and the order of Sunwalkers that drew upon his power. Aponi's daughter Hunadi had not been wrong in her assessment, and he found that channelling An'she's power came as naturally as swinging a smithing hammer. With it he could craft weapons and shields from pure light and wield them in combat. With practice he found that he could also infuse the light of An'she into all of his crafting, affording the metal he worked with incredible strength and flexibility. Using these armaments, Gara found a new confidence in battle beyond anything his tribe had been able to impart upon him. Though he was more competent as a bulwark against attack, in time he was able to provide something of an offense, and before long he was accompanying other Sunwalkers on excursions away from the orders halls.

As much as he enjoyed his newfound confidence, he was always eager to return to his forge and to Hunati Brightmane, a friend with whom he had grown incredibly close. By day the two youths spent countless hours sitting in his forge, talking on everything from their studies to their favourite cuisine. By night they would lay under the gaze of Mu'sha, watching her glint with the reflected light of her brother, talking at length about their plans and the adventures they hoped to embark on. Before long the two of them were inseparable and a badly hidden romance began to blossom.

By the time the Sunwalkers departed for Pandaria in an attempt to quell the Sha's destructive rampage, the two had promised themselves to each other. They fought against the emotional emanations of this new land in perfect harmony, protecting each other and striking against their foes in equal measure. Garahirn found himself particularly resilient to Sha influence, likely owing to the same inner strength that failed to break his spirit during the long years of Grimtotem dogma. Hunadi did not find resisting as natural but spent many hours in quiet contemplation of the Earth Mothers wisdom to prevent undue influence.

As the Horde offensive continued and the sickness that festered within its leadership grew, the Sunwalkers became a beacon of tranquillity and reason amid a storm of vitriol and chaos. Many horde combatants found themselves drawn to the group, especially those of Tauren heritage. To aid in the curbing of negative emotions the Order of the Earth Mother held numerous services and held many celebrations and festivals. Frequently the merriment would extend far into the night, and it was on one such evening that the couple discussed the taking vows of bonding. They had discussed the idea before of course, but it had always seemed like a far-off concept. Now, beneath the swaying boughs of the strange flora in this foreign land, they could think of nothing they wanted more than to pledge to one another and set about creating a life for themselves.

Within a month, the ceremony was held and while the resulting party lasted for several days, it was nought compared to the lifetime of joy that lay before them. The two continued to adventure alongside one another for many years, facing all manner of foes, and exploring ever more exotic lands. No matter how far their journeys took them, they always returned to their home in the Krasarang Wilds, and it was in their hovel on an otherwise unremarkable warm spring morning that the two welcomed their firstborn into the world. Looking upon the newborn, Kuoth Kwahrol Brightmane, was the single greatest joy that either had ever experienced. As they clutched the babe between them, they swore to safeguard the child above all else and to continue to fight for the betterment of the world he would inherit.

Beem

Named by Garahirn's son for the shafts of light that shine into his forge, Beem was a small doll crafted by a merchant in Thunder Bluff and gifted to the lad by his father. Despite his protests, the sunwalkers boy insisted that he take it with him as his duties took him far from home. Seeing the warmth and love in the childs eyes, An'she formed a simulacrum of the toy and granted it life. It is that creation that follows Garahirn as he roams, a constant reminder of the young calf waiting for him to return.

[blakegopnik]

THE FRIDAY PIC is Nicole Eisenman's “Untitled (Billy Clubs),” from "The History of Hand Knitting," the two-woman show she shares with Rosemarie Trockel at Leo Koenig's gallery uptown in New York.

I reviewed the show for today's New York Times, and as I came up with what I wanted to say, I began to wonder how much of a critic's take can be purely personal, even eccentric, and how much has to be rooted in likely readings that others might come up with in looking at the work. Which is better, a reading of Hamlet that gets at his undoubted self-doubt and procrastination (for the umpteenth time) or one that decides to test the possibility that he's all about identifying with Ophelia's female gender? Which is better, that is, explication or interpretation?

At any rate ... here's what I did come up with for the Times:

So much of our suffering is caused by male aggression. (How many victims of war have been killed by women?) But for all the horror of that violence, there’s often something oafish about it, if only because of the boundless stupidity it represents.

This show captures some of masculinity’s toxic idiocy.

An untitled installation by Nicole Eisenman presents 20 “clubs” leaning against the wall. Each is just a length of scrap wood with a dumb blob of plaster at its top, as though its maker was either too lazy or too dimwitted to perfect his weapons beyond the minimum needed to bash a head. Nearby, also in plaster, a three-fingered blob of a hand sits on the floor, ready to grab at its clubs at the slightest provocation. (“You callin’ ME a blob of a hand?!”)

A blob of a head, about three feet tall and painted blue, looks on dimly from a pedestal, as though helpless to govern its own hand.

Rosemarie Trockel contributes quite different pieces to the show, but they hit similar notes. Back in 1984, she began to order up machine-knit balaclavas, like a terrorist or paramilitary fighter might wear. But instead of being bad-guy black, they had “girlish” patterns knit into them. My favorite covers its wearer’s face in plus and minus signs, like the love charms worn by Frenchwomen that stand for “more than yesterday, less than tomorrow.” It’s not clear if Trockel’s pattern counters the balaclava’s associations with masculine threat, or if instead of pointing to a love that’s bound to increase, it lets its wearer proclaim a hatred that’s always on the rise.

Photo by Shark Senesac

[thelostgirl21]

Men are the reason I realized I'd just been raped in the first place.

All my women friends, when I'd described the "bad sexual experience I'd had" were, just like me, attempting to rationalize it.

They were trying to say things like "well, maybe he really likes porn, and thought that's how women genuinely like sex", "he might have believed your tastes were similar", "maybe in his country, women are..."

For context:

Rape trigger warning:

It was a man that I was working with and who had spent 6 months becoming a dear trusted friend and confident of mine, only to suddenly "shift gears" in bed, start becoming really aggressive and demeaning, etc.

And so, I got so utterly confused and paniqued, because each time I told him to slow down, he'd go "Oh! I know how you like it rough!", ignore me, and it just got worse and more painful. Your mind is struggling to understand what's going on, because you do love and trust him, and you did genuinely want to have sex with him before it started.

And suddenly, he becomes a completely different person you don't recognize, which makes him 100% unpredictable.

If you start actually asking him to stop, will he hit you? Kill you?

The survival instincts kick in, and you more or less decide to be as "docile" and "loving" as you possibly can, and to "keep him pleased and satisfied" with you, in the hopes of pacifying him.

I never once said "no", attempted to insist he stopped, or tried pushing him away. The moment I realised I had a complete stranger in bed, I did all I could to avoid setting him off.

End trigger warning.

But my friend - a boy I'd known and been really close to since I was 15 (I was 21 when it happened) - looked me in the eyes and said:

"You were raped. Listen to me very carefully: you were raped. I'm a man, and I can guarantee you that there is no way in Hell that asshole didn't sense or notice your discomfort! The way you are attempting to justify what happened right now is typical rape victim behavior, and there is absolutely zero doubt in my mind that this guy raped you. You are the closest thing I have to a sister, and if he was in front of me right now, I'd fucking kill him! "

I will forever be grateful to him for how immediate and deep his anger over what had happened to me was, how much hatred he had for the other guy, and the profound conviction of his words, because they hit me like a ton of bricks and seemingly gave me no other choice than to believe him!

Thanks to his intervention, I was able to stop feeling responsible for what had happened to me, shift the blame where it truly belonged, allow myself to get angry, and start healing.

As long as women (and non-binary folks) have been so conditioned to believe that we carry the responsibility for the violence that men do to us (i.e. that we are causing it to happen), and struggle with being able to recognize it when it happens, we need men standing firm against it and calling bullshit on members of their own gender attempting to normalize it.

Men are also victims of the patriarchy, some of them are fully aware of it, and many of them are strong, vocal advocates for tearing it all down and letting people be who they are, love who and what they love, etc.

In an ideal world, women and non-binary individuals should be able to talk for themselves, and have men listen and empathize with them when they do.

But the reality is that some men will only listen to other men. So, the more men actively reject patriarchy, embrace feminism, and get loud about its message in male dominated spaces, the more likely we are to change society.

Queer men always 100% belong in LGBTQ+ and queer spaces, it shouldn't even be an issue!

But I'm a panromantic demisexual pansexual genderless woman in a relationship with a cisgender straight guy.

If I go to Pride, or any other global LGBTQ+ gatherings where gay men and lesbian women are allowed to celebrate with their own partners, you better believe that I'm going to be there to celebrate with my own partner as well!

Our relationship is queer! Our love is queer! Just because one of us isn't queer doesn't mean that we aren't a very queer couple celebrating queer love together!

Those men who fiercely love us, respect us, support us, listen to us, witness our struggles, and share their lives with us are being immersed in our queer universe, and have chosen to embrace it alongside us!

Denying their contribution to our lives and our communities, and rejecting their love and support, is not the way for us to grow stronger and stop men violence against members of the LGBTQ+.

Monosexuals actively seeking to penalize bisexuals, pansexuals, omnisexuals, and polysexuals, because they fell in love with someone of a different gender than themselves, can suck and choke on it!

And if you go "it's fine if they are both bisexual, but a pansexual with a cisgender straight guy should leave the cis straight dude at home", screw you!

I shouldn't be punished and stripped of the right to celebrate love with the one I love because of "how queer or not" my partner is!

And if patriarchy is the only home some men have ever had and known, and we tell them "feminism doesn't want you! Stay away from us!", the only thing left for them to do is to cling to patriarchy with all their might to fucking survive, because it's the only space that remotely pretends to care about them!

We are keeping them trapped into a violent, toxic global "family system" that brainwashes them, and teaches them that everything outside of that family is a threat!

Then we go "You are inherently bad based on your gender alone, and no one loves nor wants you!", confirming that patriarchy is 100% right! It's the only system that will ever give them a right to exist and feel safe!

You are actively reinforcing and strengthening patriarchy by giving it the single most powerful tool it needs to keep growing and thriving: pushing men into a corner by yelling at them that they have no other options.

My queers, we really need to put the "no men" thing away. Men are not inherently bad. There are queer men. There are questioning men. There's men that are just plain cool. Denying these men a space at our table is not helping - except the TERFs. I just came off the back of reading a transphobe gleeful rant about the need to have pride without men - They of course mean me. This kind of stuff is damaging to me and I really need us all to take a step back and maybe kill this "men dni, men not allowed" stuff. What you mean is "no men who are going to do mean stuff to me." And frankly those men won't give a shit about that kind of boundary.

But I promise you there's a fleet of good honest men who will see that and be sad they're not allowed in your version of queer spaces.

PATRIARCHY is what you hate. Dni Patriarchs.