#is this praise? is this criticism? i don't know I'm tired

[xothatnerdykid]

read your mind

You’re a newly minted pro-hero with a quirk that lets you to read the mind of anyone you touch. So imagine your surprise when you accidentally read a certain stoic, brooding hero's mind and find out he doesn't hate you like you thought, but rather, something dangerously close to the opposite.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader. NSFW but not very explicit. 5,002 words.

“Your form was sloppy,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

You used to cringe when he’d tell you things like that, become sheepish and apologetic. Now, after months of knowing him, you'd simply smile and quip, “Awww, you watching my saves on the news again?”

You hated bumping into him. He was the reason you tended to leave mission briefings early: the ever-stoic, perpetually unimpressed Pro Hero Eraserhead.

As a relatively new hero working in the same city, you were thrilled at the chance to learn from someone as experienced as him. But your excitement quickly dimmed the first time you met as you noticed his gruff demeanor and critical, scrutinizing gaze.

You knew he was tough on everyone, but there were times when it felt like his criticism was directed at you more than anyone else. And no matter how hard you tried or how much praise everyone else gave you, he always found something to correct.

So, for the sake of keeping your self-esteem intact, you’ve resorted to treating his criticism like a game, teasing him back whenever he dropped one of his classic deadpan remarks. It was either that or crumble under the weight of his seemingly endless disapproval.

But today, all you can muster is a grunt in response, head throbbing from fatigue and chronic sleep deprivation.

“That’s my line,” he says flatly. Because apparently, someone always has to be the cheeky one between the two of you.

“Can we just…” You rub your temple, wincing as the pain spikes. "Can we just not do this today?”

“Are you feeling alright?” His voice loses a bit of its usual sharpness as he steps closer, eyes narrowing in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you huff, waving him off. "Just tired. We can't all function on only ten shots of espresso a day."

"Seven actually. I'm not a maniac. And you don't sound fine."

You roll your eyes, feeling too drained to banter with him. "I said I'm fine. Can you spare me the lecture?"

You mean to walk past him when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, startling you. Suddenly, there’s that familiar buzz in your mind — your quirk activating with the skin-to-skin contact. The headache momentarily takes a backseat as his thoughts flood in.

Is she really okay? She looks like she’s about to collapse.

Why does she always push herself so hard?

You look up at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

He yanks his hand away as if he’d been burned, the flood of his thoughts abruptly cut off. His dark eyes flicker with something—surprise? Guilt? He takes a step back.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. “Didn’t mean to…”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How are you supposed to respond to that? All this time, you thought he was just cold, that he only ever saw your flaws. But just now, he…

He was worried about you?

“I—” you start, but your voice falters. He’s still staring at you, his expression carefully guarded again.

“I’ll see you around. Feel better." His voice is clipped, betraying none of the thoughts you just heard. The words sound so casual, so dismissive, that for a moment you wonder if you imagined it all.

You want to say something to break the tension between you, but you're suddenly nervous. Your heart races, pounding with the weight of this new knowledge. Before you can compose yourself, another hero calls his name, and he mutters a quick response before leaving.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

You promised yourself you were going to avoid him like the plague.

Later that day, when you were tossing and turning in bed, still overthinking your last encounter — you promised. You even came up with (what seemed to you) a solid game plan: You were going to focus on hero work so much that you won’t even have the time to think about him, much less see him.

But the mission had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a simple recon had turned into a full-on chase through the streets when the criminal you'd been tracking for weeks unexpectedly showed up at the deal you were sent to bust. Orders be damned, you vaulted over the rooftop ledge and ran after them.

You leaped across buildings, adrenaline spurring you on. Your mind was focused, heart pounding in rhythm with your footfalls. You’d chased this villain twice before, and both times, they’d slipped through your fingers. You weren’t about to let that happen again.

The villain was fast, but so were you. With each bound, you closed the gap, watching as they darted into a narrow alleyway below. This was your chance. Your heart surged as you prepared to drop down and cut them off.

Suddenly, a figure descended from the shadows, blocking your target from your sight. Your stomach dropped.

Of course it was him.

"Stay back. This is too dangerous for you to handle alone.” His voice was firm and authoritative. Even with the goggles on, you could feel his dark eyes trained on you with that same stern expression you’d come to dread.

"Dangerous? I've been on this case longer than you have!”

You stepped forward but so did he.

“I said stay back,” he warned you. “Don’t be reckless. He’s already evaded you twice, and now he’s cornered. Desperate villains do desperate things.”

“He’s getting away! You’re ruining my chance to finally catch him!”

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” Aizawa snapped. “I’m not going to let a rookie run into a trap.”

Anger flared in your chest. You knew he didn’t respect you, hadn’t from the start. Always criticizing, always watching with that disapproving scowl. You try to push past him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, and maybe even more stubborn.

“Wait here and let me handle it,” Aizawa growled, his voice low and commanding. His scarf moved like a serpent around him, a silent warning that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if you pushed any further.

You clenched your fists but did as you were told. Much to your frustration, the villain was apprehended quickly after that. You watched from the rooftop, fuming as Aizawa cornered them with ease, his scarf tangling around the villain's limbs like it was second nature. Within minutes, the situation was over, and backup arrived to escort the criminal away.

You stayed put, your heart still racing with the adrenaline of the chase and the frustration of being sidelined once again. The cool night breeze did little to calm your heated emotions. It wasn’t fair. You’d been so close, only for him to swoop in like you were some rookie who couldn’t handle their own mission.

Now, you watch as he finishes giving his statement to the police and then make his way towards you.

You cross your arms tightly, readying yourself for whatever critique he’d throw your way this time. But when he stops in front of you, he doesn’t say anything right away. He simply takes off his goggles and looks at you.

His silence is almost worse than his usual condescending remarks. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravelly, strained. More measured than you expected.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. "I…I'm fine," you answer, maybe a bit too defensively.

Aizawa's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he’s about to call you out for your tone. But he just stares at you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

You shift on your feet, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and awkward, until he exhales and rubs the back of his neck.

"Good," he mutters, his voice softening just slightly, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of something you can’t quite place. His hand lowers back to his side, and as it brushes yours for the briefest moment, something happens.

Skin contact.

Before you can stop it, his thoughts are bleeding into yours, loud and clear.

I should’ve handled that better. She probably thinks I hate her…

Dammit, I don’t want her to hate me.

Your breath catches in your throat. A rush of emotions flood your mind: frustration, concern. Genuine fear.

She doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already good enough. More than good enough.

Heat floods your face, your pulse quickening. He… cares? Before you can process it fully, the connection snaps. A sudden coldness washes over you as your quirk is forcibly erased.

Aizawa’s eyes lock onto yours, his irritation visible in the sharpness of his gaze and the tight line of his mouth.

"I…I didn't mean to," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something like uncertainty flickers in his expression, and his hair falls down in waves as he shuts off his quirk, too. His jaw tightens but his brow furrows as though he’s trying to decide what to say.

“I...know you didn’t,” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

You flinch, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur again, dropping your gaze to the ground. You didn’t want to invade his mind, but now you couldn’t unhear what you’d discovered.

Just like before, he turns to leave.

“Wait—” you blurt out, reaching for him instinctively. You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you can’t just let him leave like this. Not again.

He pauses, half-turning to glance at you over his shoulder. Your heart is pounding in your ears. The words are there, but they feel jumbled in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling through your mind.

“I—I didn’t know. About any of it.”

Your eyes search his face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression remains impassive. You fight back the urge to touch him.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” you admit in a small voice.

Aizawa heaves a sigh. His hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, you notice how tired he looks; exhausted, worn down in a way that makes him seem more human, less the untouchable figure you’ve always seen him as.

“I’m not trying to be hard on you,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now, the anger draining away. “But you don’t always think things through, and that’s dangerous. You’re talented. You don’t need to prove anything to me or anyone else.”

His words surprise you, and you look up, meeting his gaze again. There’s no scowl, no biting critique, just honesty. You swallow hard, feeling an odd mix of warmth and discomfort settle in your chest.

Before you can think better of it, your hand moves instinctively, brushing against his arm. You freeze, realizing what you’ve done, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. And though he has every opportunity to, he doesn’t erase your quirk either.

I’m too close to her. The thought is faint, hesitant. She’s already in my head… and it’s getting harder to push her away.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s not just frustrated with you — he’s frustrated with himself.

You pull your hand back, not wanting to intrude further.

You don’t know what you expect to see on his face; surprise maybe, or even anger. But for the first time since you’ve met him, you see something warmer in his eyes — something that sends a flutter through your chest.

Aizawa takes a half-step closer and your pulse quickens at the proximity. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost a secret, he murmurs, “Don’t make me worry like that again.”

“I won’t,” you manage to whisper, your heart caught in your throat.

He takes a step back, as if remembering himself, and his usual stern demeanor slips back into place.

“Go home. Get some rest.”

You nod, still too flustered to speak. The warmth of his touch lingers long after he's gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

It’s well past midnight, the city quiet except for the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional sound of wind rustling through the streets. Your patrol route brings you to the edge of a quiet park, where you catch a familiar figure standing in the shadows, keeping watch.

“You really like brooding in the dark, don’t you?" You smile at him from over your shoulder, though your usual sarcasm is gone.

“It's my favorite pastime,” he deadpans, but you don't miss the way his dark eyes hold yours a beat too long.

“Right,” you snicker. “The city’s most stoic hero. I bet you even scowl in your sleep.”

Aizawa’s lips twitch, the tiniest of smirks threatening to break through. “You can’t prove that.”

"Oh?” You smile sweetly, batting your eyelashes for good measure. “Something tells me I can.”

His gaze sharpens slightly, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to call you out on your teasing. But instead, he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you.

“You’re bold tonight,” he says, his tone somewhere between amused and intrigued. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re actually enjoying my company.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider. “And what if I am?”

He steps just a fraction closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. His voice is low and smooth when he says, “Then I’d have to wonder what it is you think you’re getting yourself into.”

The air between you thickens, the playful banter now laced with something a little more dangerous, a little more exciting.

“You know, I could buy you a coffee sometime,” you offer, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, keep the conversation light. “To say thanks for helping me out with that last mission.”

He pretends to mull it over but, before you can react, he reaches out and grabs the coffee cup you’re holding. He takes a deliberately long sip, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

When he lowers the cup, he meets your gaze with a half-lidded look that sends your pulse racing.

“Consider it done.”

Your face feels impossibly warm now, and you’re sure your blush is painfully obvious, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you quip, “An indirect kiss? Maybe you’re the one who needs to be careful, or else other people will start getting the wrong idea.”

With a low laugh, he hands the cup back to you, and the subtle brush of his fingers against yours sets off another wave of his thoughts.

I wonder if she realizes how much I want her.

Your breath catches.

For a split second, you think you might’ve misheard it, but the heat in Aizawa’s gaze as he watches your reaction tells you otherwise. The cup is back in your hand, but your fingers are numb. Your focus is entirely on him, his thoughts still rattling around in your mind.

His lips twitch again. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice low, almost a purr. “What’s going on up there? Something I should know about?”

You swallow hard, trying to gather your composure. He’s looking at you like he’s daring you to admit what you heard.

You take a deep breath and decide to play along. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you always flirt this shamelessly.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Your heart is racing now, fingers trembling around the cup in your hand. His gaze is dark and intense. Unwavering. He's looking at you like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you and he’s enjoying it.

Your quirk had always been a double-edged sword; sometimes it revealed things you wished you hadn’t known, and other times it brought clarity to situations that seemed hopelessly opaque.

This time, it left you with a dilemma.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts. He’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of him, his presence overwhelming but not uncomfortable. “Since you’re already in my head…why stop now?”

Your breath hitches. His invitation is dangerous, yet impossible to resist. There are a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t — you work together, it’s an invasion of privacy, you hated his guts just a few weeks ago — but the temptation is too strong, his presence too intoxicating.

Hesitantly, your fingers brush against his once more, and his thoughts flood in again, more intense and vivid this time.

She’s braver than I thought. I like that.

I shouldn’t be doing this. But damn, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looks at me…

“Good girl,” he cooes, his voice a low rumble that sends a flutter of excitement through you.

You feel lightheaded, dizzy with the weight of his thoughts, the tension between you at a boiling point. You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the way Aizawa’s eyes are fixed on you — dark, intense, hungry — it’s making it hard to think straight. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel what he’s feeling.

And you do.

You feel everything.

His desire is a palpable thing, hanging in the air between you, electric and heady. You can see it in the way his gaze lingers on your lips, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean in.

“Hardly seems fair. I don't get to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” His voice dips lower, enough to send another wave of heat crashing over you. “Are you going to keep me guessing?”

Your voice wavers slightly, but you manage to respond, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what’s in my head.”

He chuckles, a dark, low sound that makes your stomach flip. “You might be surprised.”

You can barely breathe as he brushes the back of his hand against your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly on the corner of your mouth. You feel his thoughts ripple through you again, even stronger this time.

I want her. God, I want her so badly…

Your knees feel weak, and it takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely in the moment, in him. The tension between you feels unbearable now, as if one wrong move could send you both over the edge. And you’re not sure how much longer either of you can hold back.

Aizawa smirks, just a hint of satisfaction flickering in his expression.

I could kiss her right now. It would be so easy.

The thought lingers between you, thick and heavy, and you can’t tell if it’s yours or his anymore. All you know is that just the idea of his lips on yours is making your entire body hum with anticipation.

Aizawa watches you carefully, as if waiting for your reaction. He knows you heard him, and he’s not backing down.

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. “Go ahead then,” your own voice sounds small and distant to your ears, but it’s enough to tip the balance.

His lips are on yours in a second.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters, but it quickly deepens as the tension that had been building between you finally breaks. His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel his thoughts rushing through you again.

God, she tastes even better than I imagined.

Your knees nearly buckle, and you can barely focus on anything except the way his lips feel against yours — firm, warm, demanding yet tender. He’s kissing you like he’s been holding back for far too long.

When you finally pull back for air, your heart is pounding, your breath shaky. Aizawa’s forehead rests gently against yours, his eyes half-closed as he catches his own breath. His thumb brushes lightly over your cheek, a small, affectionate gesture that has you smiling up at him in a tizzy.

“Still think I hate you?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of heat as he slides his hands into the curve of your waist.

You laugh softly, pulling him closer by his scarf. “I think I might need a little more convincing.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

The days that follow your little late night tryst at the park are deliciously unbearable.

It’s as if you don’t know how to be around him anymore. There's tension during training sessions. The gym hums with its usual energy, but you can’t focus. Not with him in the room. You’re sparring with someone, half-heartedly dodging and throwing punches, but your mind is elsewhere, replaying the feel of Aizawa’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you.

Across the room, he’s speaking to a group of trainees, the same unreadable, stoic expression in place. But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes when they briefly meet yours, a look only you recognize.

Your opponent lands a hit on your shoulder and you nearly stumble. You grit your teeth and bring yourself back to the present moment. When the sparring session ends, you grab a bottle of water and try to catch your breath.

He walks over to where you’re sitting off to the side, seemingly doing the same. His voice is low enough so only you can hear. "You're distracted."

You flush, struggling to keep your expression impassive. “And what if I am?��

“Focus, or I’ll have to give you some private training later.”

His words are a promise, dripping with intent, and your blood sings. You can’t find a response quick enough before he’s already pulling away, leaving you flushed and even more distracted.

It’s not much better during night patrol, when the city streets are dimly lit and mostly empty. Although the two of you are supposed to be overseeing different sectors, you know when you turn a corner into a dark alley that he's following silently, closely behind.

You walk deeper into the alley, pretending to scan the area, but the quiet crunch of his footsteps has your heart racing. Just as you’re about to turn back, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you into the shadows, away from prying eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already on you, crashing his lips against yours.

“You’re making—it hard—for me—to concentrate,” he murmurs between kisses, each word punctuated by the soft graze of his mouth against yours. His hands press against your hips, pinning you gently yet firmly to the wall, and a wave of heat spreads through you.

Suddenly, an image flashes in your mind: him trailing his mouth downwards until he’s on his knees, hooking your leg over his shoulder and eating you out. A thought that isn’t your own.

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, though there’s no real bite to it. If anything, your voice is barely steady. “You’re supposed to be patrolling your own area.”

He runs his fingers along your jaw. "And let you wander into dark alleys alone?" He leans in, lips brush against your ear, nibbling. "Not a chance."

He crooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth and lips lingering just enough to make you gasp.

I want to taste you. All of you, he thinks. I want you to make a mess on my face, on my fingers, and then lick it clean.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. He presses you harder against the wall, and it’s dizzying, intoxicating—

Until the sharp crackle of comms cuts through the haze.

“Report. Any activity?”

You both freeze, breaths mingling, still pressed close. His eyes flick to yours, and there’s a hint of amusement dancing in them.

“Nothing to report,” he says, voice calm and collected as if he hadn’t just been kissing you senseless a moment ago.

You look up at him, dazed and wanting, heart pounding. He tilts his head at you and you realize they’re expecting a response from you, too.

“N-no activity here either,” you manage despite the tightness of your throat.

The comms fall silent once more. Aizawa is looking at you through half-lidded eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. You hate him as much as you really don't.

“We should get back to our routes before someone decides to check on us," he murmurs.

“Oh, so now you’re concerned about protocol?” You arch an eyebrow at him, though you’re sure your flushed cheeks betray any semblance of teasing bravado.

"For now." He leans down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just break a few more rules.”

A few days later, you find yourselves seated across from each other during a mission debriefing. The room is full of other pro heroes, but it might as well be empty for all the attention you’re paying to anyone else.

Your thoughts scramble every time Aizawa's knee brushes against yours beneath the table. He, on ther hand, is the picture of composure, listening to the debrief with his usual detached focus.

This meeting’s dragging. I can think of better ways to pass the time with you.

You try to focus on the mission details, but half way through, he moves his hand atop your thigh and you shiver.

How long do you think it’d take if we just slipped out, right now?

You steal a glance at him, and there’s the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes when they meet yours.

You force yourself to look down at your notes, but your mind is elsewhere, his presence impossibly distracting. Fuck it, you think before you slide your foot up his calf.

He sputters a cough, a rare crack in his usually unshakable composure, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. Under the table, his hand tightens on your thigh, his grip firm, almost possessive, and the thrill of it has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens after this.

As the meeting draws to a close, everyone rises to leave, and Shota gives you a barely perceptible nod toward the hallway. You follow at a careful distance until you reach his office, entering a good few minutes after he does so as not to arouse suspicion.

He backs you gently against the door as he locks it behind you, his gaze pinning you in place. His eyes are dark and stormy, with that half-focused look you’ve come to love so much. When he speaks, his voice is soft, a murmur meant only for you. “You’re going to get us caught, you know that?”

You smile up at him sweetly then tip-toe to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "You’re the one who can’t seem to keep things professional,” you coo, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, teasing.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Is that so? Funny, I don’t remember you objecting."

“Of course not,” you confess breathlessly, head thrown back in pleasure as you tug at his hair. You can’t make out the sound of your own voice over the blood thumping in your ears. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined us doing inappropriate things in your office?”

Your words seem to snap the last of his restraint.

A low growl escapes him, and before you know it, he’s gripping your hips and lifting you just enough to press the hardness of his length against you. You gasp. His mouth finds yours with a raw, pent-up hunger that has you clinging to his shoulders, heart racing wildly.

“And here I was, thinking I was the only one losing sleep over this,” he murmurs between kisses, tugging your bottom lip gently between his teeth.

He pulls you flush against him as his tongue explores your mouth, and you trail your hands down his chest and the ridges of his abdomen just as eagerly. You grind your hips down on his erection and he lets out a deep, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his warm, rough hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “You’re lucky we’re alone.” His tone is half-warning, half-promise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your hands.

"I know somewhere we wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted," you tell him breathlessly. “My place. Tonight. If you’re up for it.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "I'll clear my schedule.”

[mrsjjongstby]

ONLY YOURS TO CATCH - N.RK

~ HIS FAVOURITE DETECTIVE

PART 1: BAITED AND BOUND

Pairing: Obsessed serial killer!riki x Detective!fem!reader

Genre: Dark romance.

Synopsis: You, a detective who has always solved her cases with ease — until he appeared. A string of murders, all more twisted and challenging than the last, draws you deeper into a deadly game crafted just for you. As the lines blur between hunter and hunted, you realizes you're not just chasing a killer — you're the prize he’s been chasing all along. In a city full of noise, he made sure only you heard him.

Warnings: Killing, blood, knives, jealousy, obsession, stalking behaviour, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy(not related with the female lead), toxic dynamics, dark themes, cursing, jail/ prisoner setting, mentions of poison (cyanide), etc (let me know if i missed any!)

Word Count: 2,962

| Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Some traps aren't meant to catch you. They're meant to keep you."

You are good at your job, you really are. But recently the job has been feeling way too easy. Something is just not adding up. You are a very well-known pro-found detective- the one the departments brags about infront of press and in articles.

You knew you deserved the praise, the applause but now, as you are sitting before the 35-year-old man while tapping your pen against the metal table, you don't know if you deserve the “The detective who solved it all” title anymore. 

“I killed Yuri” the man- Jae states bluntly.

He continued, “Had an affair with her and got her pregnant and I didn't want Hana to know, I did warn Yuri though, told her to get abortion but she was stubborn she said she didn't want to kill a life who hadn't even developed into a baby. But I didn't want that- I didn't want her or the child. I did what I thought was best-”

“And that is to kill her?” You can’t stop yourself, gripping the pen tightly as you yell. 

Jae shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

You don't understand why this is happening, why the past five cases you’ve been handled have been too easy to solve.

But one thing is for sure, you don't like it one bit.

You liked the critical thinking, assessment of the evidence and putting pieces together that come with the job.

But lately, the criminals are being found after you’ve only uncovered a few pieces of evidence.

Not that you aren't happy that the criminals are getting caught early but it's that it almost feels too unreal, too silly and too convenient for a criminal to be found with the first 3 clues.

Too absurd for the criminals to come out and confess- always with an underlying feeling and a strange tension you can’t quite place.

You look at him and ask, “So why are you confessing to me now when you tried to hide her body, hide the murder which you committed?”

Jae chuckles almost nervously “I guess I still have a thing for Yuri.”

You get up from your chair disgusted “Rot in jail bastard.”

With that, you leave the room with your mind full of thoughts and theories. And none of them make sense.  

Now, back in your office, you sat pondering about the past five cases. A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

Detective Jun-ha, your senior, stuck his head in.

“That’s the sixth case you’ve solved in the past two weeks Ms. The detective who solved it all, are you sure you didn't make a deal with the devil?” Jun-ha, though technically your senior, never acts like one.

He has seen you grow. He was there through your thick and thin and he’s one of the few people who truly support you and are genuinely happy for you.

You gave him a tired chuckle. “Maybe I’m the devil. Anyways, what brings you here my dear senior?”

"Nothing, just checking up on my favourite detective” he says as you roll your eyes playfully.

"I'm doing alright, thanks for checking up on me senior”

“Good to know. I'll take my leave then” he says with a grin as he exits, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your smile fades as soon as the door shuts click.

This isn’t normal. It was like the justice system is on autopilot- making crime scenes easier and making criminals confess so that you have a perfect record. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind grows louder and louder. 

You know it. You feel it.  Someone is pulling strings...

A few days pass by. As you enter your office, the first thing you notice is a file placed neatly on your desk- an indicator that you got yourself a new case.

You walk over and flip it open.

There it is. 

Nishimura Riki.

The most wanted serial killer in the city. 

You aren't even surprised anymore. You’ve said the name often, seen it written across countless headlines, articles, reports, evidence sheets- it might as well be imprinted in your brain by now.

You get his cases often, it's like clockwork. Once in every three cases which took you no time to solve and are practically solved by themselves, his case awaits on your table.

A new one every time, only on your desk like the case only wants to be solved by you and no one else. 

His cases are different, they make you work, really work. 

They demand your attention, challenge your logic and wake up the parts of your brain which have been rusted due to the regular cases.   Riki’s trail is cold.

His victims are killed unusually, are scattered, his patterns are confusing and if you are being honest to yourself, the only common piece in his puzzles is, you.

All of his cases only ever come to you and with each murder of his, it's like the universe is leaving his case for you to actually solve.

And beneath the pressure and fear, you almost feel relief because for once, you aren't being handed the answer. You are chasing it  

As you are about to dig through the file, you get a call. The sound cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Ms.Y/n? We found a body. Linked to Nishimura. You are needed on-site. Now.”

You are already grabbing your coat, your mind preparing what to expect from him.

The alleyway is damp, cold and silent, completely as if its untouched by the chaos of the city around it. The streetlights flick, casting that glow on the body surrounded by rainwater.

You duck under the yellow tape. The officers nod at you, their faces pale. You nod back at them and look at her.

Female, early thirties. Clean, untouched except for the severe wound on her head. She has been posed. Elegantly, like someone took their time- as if it wasn't a murder but a performance.

What caught your eye was the folded piece of paper in her hand. You kneel and gently take the paper with gloved hands. You freeze as you open it.  

It was a page torn from a novel- not just any novel- your favourite novel. The one that you mentioned briefly in an interview a year or two ago. No one ever bought it up again.   The highlighted sentence, which was underlined by read ink reads,  

“The hunter always smiles when the prey finally notices the traps.”  

Your stomach twists. Because you know- this isn't just a message- it's an acknowledgement. 

Acknowledgement that he’s watching you- not just your work but you.

And you don't know how to feel about that.  

After inspecting the place, collecting evidence and talking to the nearby people you return to your office.

You walked into your office, but something was wrong. You locked your door- you were sure of it.

Yet there it is. On your chair. A plain black envelope. You quickly closed the door as you tear open the wax seal.  

Jae was wasting your time.   I handled it, you're welcome.  You shouldn't have to clean their messes.  You are meant for something greater- for me  Tune out the voice, love. I'm the only sound worth hearing.  Think smart, Detective This game is ours   - Your R 

You sit down slowly, the wait of the message heavy on your chest  And you feel it- he's taking control of everything around you.

Watching your every move.

Eliminating every distraction.  

For what?

For you.

You begin to notice the small things first.

The coffee on your desk, still hot and made the way you like it, even though no one was in the office when you arrived. 

Your favourite pen- the one with the broken cap with no ink left- replaced by a new one.

Same colour. Same brand.

A hair tie on your desk whenever you chose to leave your hair loose.

Always made your skin crawl and made you look around you to see if someone was watching you. 

Your instincts tell you to file a report, but something stops you.

You're a detective- why would you need another detective to help you?

That's what you told yourself.  

This felt like more than surveillance. It felt like intimacy 

Riki isn't just watching you work. He somehow made his way into your routine... Inside your life. 

And the worst part?

You don't tell anyone- Why?

Because you are scared you'll be mistaken for paranoid rather than being right. 

And that’s why you haven't been yourself lately.

You are always thinking. Something or the other runs through your mind 24/7. You haven't been able to sleep properly, fear clinging to you at night- the fear of being watched which caused you to not be energetic and more "alive-looking" in the morning.

And maybe that's the reason why you were seated across from Jun-ha after work hours in a café.  

"Ok. C'mon y/n, what's going on with you?" Jun-ha asks unable to comprehend why you have been like this for the past week or so.  

You chuckle awkwardly, "What do you mean, I'm doing just fine".

Jun-ha gives you a "Are you really fucking with me right now" look and says, "You know what I'm talking about, you look like a panda with your eye bags, you are always zoning out and you just look paranoid all the time." 

There it is.

Exactly what you feared- people thinking you’re paranoid, when in reality, you are right. Someone Riki is watching you. 

You don't want other people to perceive you as paranoid or delusional. So, you dismiss his worries and not-so-wrong accusations and say, "I'm just tired of dealing with his cases"

Jun-ha looks at you sympathetically, knowing who him means, "Ah I get it, his cases are so time consuming and hard- I wonder how you do it. Just be careful"  

You nod at that as you drink your latte, the bitter taste staying in your throat.

After a few days, an autopsy report lands on your desk.

Victim: Male, age 27 Time of death: Between 2am-4am Cause of death: Cardiac arrest (supposedly). 

You stare at the report, unease setting in your gut.

Something was wrong.

You visit the alleyway where the body had been found. The place covered with yellow "crime zone do not enter" tape and surrounded by multiple professionals.

You greet them briskly and make your way towards the scene. But you don't look at the body. No- you look around it. 

Your eyes catch a half-opened water bottle lying a few feet away holding a small amount of liquid.

With gloved hands, and after confirming with the forensic team, you carefully pick it up and bring it closer.

You unscrew the cap and take a cautious sniff.  

Minerals.

Sharp.

A chemical aftertaste that shouldn't be there.

Poison.

You sent it to the lab for testing- and the results came back quickly.

Confirmed.

Cyanide.

Cyanide- the silent killer. Efficient. Fast. And almost undetectable in standard reports, making it every seasoned criminal’s best friend and making it easier for them to get away with it.

But not on your watch.

Determined, you proceed to your next lead: Lee Haneul, the victim's girlfriend.

She's devasted when you met her- blood red eyes, trembling hands- but she’s cooperative.

"He left around midnight” she sniffles, “said he needed some air to clear his mind. He took his phone, headphones and his wallet"  

You nod, scribbling your notes, "Before this... did he mention anything strange? Anything bothering him? Weird behaviour?” 

She hesitates, then murmurs, "He... he said he'd been getting these creepy messages. Anonymous ones. He brushed them off — thought it was just one of his crazy stalker fans. He posted singing covers online... had a following."  

You thank her gently, offer your condolences, and leave, mind already racing.

Back at your office, you immediately request access to the victim’s phone — the password provided willingly by Haneul. 

You get his phone, and you extract the texts- there it is.

The last message received before his death: "Want to hear a song that ends with your last breath?"

You feel your skin crawl. 

You run the sender’s IP number.

It's a burner. Obviously.

But you trace its last activity, a ping from a local library. You head to the nearby library and review the footage along with your team.

There. A hooded figure. Tall. Black hoodie. Walked out at 1:47 AM.

You zoom in.

A janitor’s badge clipped to his chest. You track him down with the help of the authorities.

His name: Park Minjae.

Minjae is pale as a ghost under the harsh lights of the interrogation room  

"I-I didn't kill him!” he stammers, wide-eyed.

“I swear, I just saw someone dragging something in the alleyway, I got scared- so I hid" 

You lean forward, "Why didn't you call the cops?"  

He swallows thickly. "Because... because he saw me. He looked me dead in the eyes and then he smiled. Like he knew I'd keep quiet" 

You narrow your gaze.

“And this message.” You ask, showing him the threatening text.  

He widens his eyes and shakes his head frantically. "No! My phone broke a few days ago. I got it repaired but afterward, it started acting weird — random messages being sent, glitches everywhere. Turns out... it got hacked."   

He's telling the truth. You know it in your gut.

"Do you remember his face?" You ask quietly. 

"Uh y-yeah I do"  

You nod and show him a photo- Nishimura Riki mug shot. 

Recognition flashes instantly across Minjae's face.  "That's him! That’s the guy!" 

Which means...

Riki left a witness.

That's sloppy. Thats not like him- at all. 

Was it just a mistake? Or was it something else?

You began thinking- thinking of anything that could help your case move forward. 

And then it clicked. 

Cyanide.

There are only two registered mineral industries in the city who had legal authority over cyanide.

You immediately dispatch teams to both. 

One industry reports a suspicious transaction a week prior — security footage confirms it: a man matching Riki’s build, wearing a mask. 

Under pressure, the supplier, Lee Seo-Jun, folds quickly under interrogation. 

And when he does, he gives up an address. 

Registered under the name Kang Tae-jin- A name connected to exactly nothing.

A perfect ghost.

Until now. 

Your team gears up and storms the listed property — a sleek, modern house nestled in the city's quieter outskirts. 

Guns raised, shouting orders, you breach the door. 

And there he is. 

Nishimura Riki.

You visit the jail’s visiting room. It's quiet. Unsettling. 

He’s already there.

Handcuffed, relaxed, sitting like he owns the room.

His eyes lift the moment you walk in. 

And for the first time, you look him in the eye. 

Not through photographs. Not across crime scenes.

Here, In person. 

“Y/N,” he murmurs. “Finally.” voice soft—softer than you imagined, almost delicate. 

"You're earlier than I expected," he says, tone almost... proud. Proud of you- your skills.

His eyes glint.  “Though I didn’t want you to find me yet,” he says softly. 

He shakes his head, “You were beautiful out there,” he says even softer. 

The silence thickens, pressing up against the walls. 

You finally break it.  “Why? Why all of this? Why the murders, the notes, the chase?” 

He leans in, and for the first time, the smile drops. 

“Because you weren’t supposed to waste yourself on simple men and simpler crimes. They don’t deserve your mind. I do.”

You feel your stomach twist. “You killed them to get my attention?” 

“No. I killed them to clear your schedule.” 

“Riki—” 

“No,” he interrupts, voice rising just a little. “You were drifting. Getting tired. Losing yourself in noise. I fixed that.” His gaze pins you on the spot. 

“You’re here. With me. And don’t tell me it’s because of the law.” He tilts his head slightly, smile inching back. 

“Because we both know—you wanted this too.” 

You stare at him, heart hammering. Unsure if the chill running down your spine is fear… or something else.  

He leans back, eyes still on you.

"I told you this is our story, baby"

You don't know what makes you stand up- rage or disgust or the terrifying part of you that understands him a little too well. 

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor.  Riki’s eyes follow your movement lazily, like a wolf watching its prey. 

You want to leave.  You should leave.  But you don’t. 

Instead, you lean closer.  Hands flat on the cold table separating you from him. 

"You're sick," you whisper. 

His smile grows, slow and poisonous.

"I'm devoted," he corrects, voice warm like he’s confessing love — not murder. 

You clench your fists, trying to steady your breathing. 

"You destroyed lives. Families. You ruined people just to get to me Riki"

Riki tilts his head, handcuffs clinking softly with the movement. 

"Ruined?" he echoes. 

"I think of it more like... rearranging the world around you.” 

You open your mouth — 

but he leans in so fast, so close, you freeze. 

Only inches between you and him now. 

And when he speaks again, his voice is barely a breath: 

"You feel it too, don't you?" 

His eyes are searching yours, merciless. 

"The world makes sense when you're with me." 

Your throat tightens. 

You can't move. 

Can't think. 

His next words are quieter than a whisper — a blade against your skin: 

"You were always mine to catch, Detective."

The guard bangs on the door, warning that visiting time is over. 

You step back, almost stumbling, heart hammering against your ribs.

Riki watches you go, a soft smile curling at his lips — 

as if the real game has only just begun. 

The door slams between you, but you swear you still feel his gaze. 

Watching.  Waiting.  Smiling...

PART TWO YET TO COME...

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

A/n: Hey guys! Writing is not my thing so sorry if it wasnt up to your expectations! And let me know if you guys want to be added in the taglist! Part two is in the making so stay tuned! Hope you guys like it! I literally was literally a second away from ripping my hair off due to exhaustion. Anyways! This is officially one of the longest fic ive ever wrote....... PLease show alot of love! ALSO THE DIVIDERS R FROM THE VERY TALENTED : @uzmacchiato @enchanthings @kodaswrld THANKS GUYS!!!!!!! ENJOY!

[forgeofthenine]

PLEASE spare crumbs for more Hypnos headcanons? 🥺 Both N/SFW?

I'm not taking requests at the moment but I can't help but love my man Hypnos, hopefully you enjoy this small smattering of headcanons anon as it is just pure brainrot.

CW: NSFW under the cut, sleepy sex, possibly but not really exhibitionism

Hypnos SFW and NSFW headcanons

SFW

There really is no sweeter boyfriend than Hypnos, no one even comes close

Despite how lazy he might seem, spending most of his time sleeping and all, he actually pays plenty of attention with anything that pertains to you

It's almost funny watching the way he perks up and peeks from behind his eye mask as soon as your name is mentioned

His affection doesn't stop his corny jokes, however

Expect some sort of comment every time you see him

Now you're dating some of them even have a more flirtatious undertone, though that's mostly kept in private

I do feel like Hypnos would love for you to meet his family, he has so many family members and all of them are dear to him

He especially likes if you end up being close to his Mother

Hypnos is very fond of physical attention too, any time he can be touching you he will

Definitely drags you on top of him to nap, just wraps you up against him all snuggly in his blanket cloak thing

NSFW

I feel like Hypnos is just as sweet in bed as he is out of it

He definitely has a bit of a variable libido, he goes through phases where he needs a little encouragement and others where he can't keep his hands off you

Thanatos has definitely chastised his brother for getting too handy with you on public

When he gets you in private, all bets are off

Huge fan of clothed sex and it's almost entirely because of his laziness

Hypnos is more than happy to half undress you and bend you over his bed when the mood strikes him

Also, the king of sweet morning sex

All tired and sleepy, bleary eyes as hands roam just a little too far

Before you know it, You're pressed tight to his chest as he thrusts into you slowly and whispers praises against your hair

He loves feeling you close against him, even if he might not be able to meet your eyes

Just the way you feel so so soft against his fingers, so real

Hypnos loves holding your hands while making love, I don't take criticism about this

[biancasaidstfu]

The funny this is i keep seeing "don't criticize Nicola" "she never said they were together" "stop twisting her speech" "she can bring him with her" "media outlet write what they want she can't stop it" "this wouldn't happen if it were Luke" "Nicola didn't say she wanted to be shipped" "Nicola never played games you interpreted it that way" "you are focusing on the man like she said she didn't want to"

All valid points made. We all have opinions and that's ok. The pattern I see is that:

1. Every single group in this fandom has said critical things and non critical things about Nicola and Luke. That should be accepted as fact because there is evidence out there. There are valid points made about things they have and have not done - professionally and what they have shown us personally. There are valid points about the reactions towards them that are/are not fair or good. No one is above critique or praise but it is how it is done that makes the difference. I see a lot of policing of opinions but some of the same persons doing the policing do not try to look at things from different angles and they do not take into consideration they at one point also held the same critiques. They shouldn't police anyone if they are being hypocritical.

2. Seeing something presented and questioning it doesn't necessarily translate to hate. Observing something is off or not the usual of the person character that is presented is not hate. Trying to come up with a theory to explain something isn't hate. Disagreeing with a fashion choice is not hate. Disagreeing with a choice of partner is not hate, it's not our business but it isn't hate. Rereading statements and trying to align that to their actions that goes against somethings they say is not hate. Pointing out where a public figure may have erred is not hate. Having a difference of opinion with another fandom member is not hate. Calling out media publications for articles is not hate. Calling out trolls or trolling behaviour is not hate.

3. What is hate is bullying, trolling, doxxing, name calling, extreme anger towards a celebrity who do not fit expectations and translating that anger into bullying/name calling/online sabotage. Doing the same to people in their circle is hate. Doing the same to others in the fandoms is hate. Doing it unprovoked is hate. Coordinated hit posts/tweets saying vile things about a stranger who happens to be an actor we see on screen is hate. Coordinated hit posts/tweets saying vile things about anyone in the fandom is hate.

4. Hate is a charged emotion that have left a sour taste in the fandom. From all sides not just one.

I only bring this up as I'm seeing the same flaming fire on Tumblr. Blogs are going after each other, calling people names doing the most. Bloggers are being targeted with rude anons or comments. It's ok to call out things that are not right. It's ok to have opinions that differ. It's ok to not like what someone shares on their blog. It's ok to have a change of heart or change of opinion. But the way I've seen it being done is like people are happy to be nasty with their words behind a screen. It isn't even necessary and it's adults doing this. We can enjoy the fandom, we can enjoy our differences, we can enjoy when we misunderstand something and get more information to update what we know/see. We can easily enjoy the actors' work and whatever else about them that draws us to them. They should not be idolized they are not gods. We can enjoy funny posts and reminiscence on past things. It does not matter where you stand in the fandom group/sub group the basic idea is to just enjoy the show.

It's become a nasty space and I see why some people are leaving.

It’s getting pretty bad and a lot of people are getting tired of it.

[thousandyearphantombunker]

The Owl House Critical Post, scroll away now I don't know if I am being too harsh in this post but I wrote it anyway so if you don't wanna read something potentially upsetting this is a warning (to those who decide to read please tell me if I'm being too harsh)

I remember initially hating how the show handled its villains, they all felt like jokes, they never felt like threats or like they provided a meaningful challenges for the main cast, they never had any real depth or complexity. but i bit my tongue, I was told that I was basically a dumbass for complaining that Bump openly breaks a law that's supposed to be punishable by death so that Luz could fulfill her witchy fantasy and that he wasn't arrested. the show could've had him make the multiclass student thing be something underground- boom it lets luz live out her fantasy but doesn't ignore what was established about the setting and creates potential stakes if these underground classes ever got discovered! That already made me angry but the cult thing is what I wanted to complain about- i only had basic ass knowledge about cults and TOH fails at portraying that crap, most people in the EC can just quit and do so in a way that makes it feel like they're just quitting a job, it doesn't feel like they fear losing their friends or sense belonging and community, they don't feel like they're anything but jokes. Leaving a cult is scary, often times cults will send their followers into the real world and set them up to have bad experiences so they'll come running back, they'll hire thugs to scare them into staying or position them in away so that they suffer (sending them out without money or the skills to survive), they humiliate those who begin to ask questions so that they stay in line. guilt tripping, putting members against each other, cutting off contact with the rest of the world! The show only adds the whole 'forced to fight on a mountain' thing for flavor! Everytime it brings up actual stuff cults do it feels like it's more for flavor than actually writing this topic with sensitivity- look at how they treat Lilith! Imo It feels like the show insulting people for ever trusting belos, treating them like they're braindead and could've just realized fairly easily that he was evil. It's the most egregious with hunter who was basically fucking born into the EC. the show is also pretty black and white, which is curious for a show that gets praise for its portrayal of religious trauma. You think the show would be more grey. I did deeper research into cults and just got SO tired of people talking about how good the show was at conveying such a heavy topic. The titan reveal also doesn't help- Luz is told by an all powerful deity that she is the chosen one basically and is told that old man is evil and needs to go down- isn't that the same justification that belos uses for his actions- not saying belos should've gotten redemption or forgiveness but this feels wrong. He deserved to die don't get me wrong but using this justification feels gross. What's even worse is that the titan made Philip's life harder on purpose- ah yeah that brainwashed cult victim would totally change his mind especially if you make his life harder- yeah I would've preferred if belos was depicted in a flashback just having a bad time on the boiling isles and cherry picked those bad experiences to justify his actions. Also I hate that the show just writes belos off as greedy and glory seeking when it could've conveyed a message about how people can get absolutely get warped by religious dogma. I do wonder though if I'm being too harsh because TOH is for kids and I was told it would be hard to portray this stuff in a way kids could understand. I can come up with ways to make the breaking the law openly thing less egregious but I am struggling to think of ways the show could have handled the cult thing, I am aware that maybe I'm accidentally saying stuff that is kind of bad faith but this is my truth. I feel like TOH wasn't good at villains and it sure as hell didn't write cults well

[mmmilkweed]

Hiya I love your art, any tips for a beginner?

Hmmm!

Study art. Old masters and whatnot. Doesn't need to be Renaissance or whatever, you could pick a Matisse. His work is phenomenal!

Anatomy studies shouldn't be neglected either. If there is a life drawing club nearby, by God I recommend it immensely. My art has improved tenfold once I enrolled the academy I go to now.

Shapes will always be more important than lines. Negative space is your greatest friend, learn it and you got it all

It's very true when they tell you, to break rules you have to know them. Take all criticism with an open mind and a steady heart. And I mean all

... And enjoy it.

I draw everyday now because of the artstyle I've developed for smilk. I can't say I always enjoy it, I've had days now that I hated it all, I have so much more to myself than this artstyle and I have a constant need to show people that I Am Worthy of their praise. But that gets tiring. Enjoying art is the most important tip.

Sorry if this is stupid, I am probably not the best person to ask these things. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time! I just fuck around til it comes around

[rightshoeonleftfoot]

From Afar

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x afab! reader

Summary: You had a bad day and you're head over heels for a Lieutenant that's not even yours. He never even seems to look at you, let alone speak to you. Little do you know, he's been watching you.

Warnings: Stalking (innocent stalking hehe), mutual pining, possessive! Simon Riley, power imbalance.

Words: 1.7k

Part 1 - Part 2

This is not proofread so I'm sorry for any mistakes!! Constructive criticism is 100% welcome :)

I wanna make this a series eventually so let me know if you're interested! I wrote this at work lol

Average. That's what you were. An average soldier. You weren't even a bad soldier, you just weren't outstanding. You simply didn't stand out even though you desperately wanted to. You wanted to stand out to him. To the one man you'd been longing for ever since you saw him walk past you in the hallway when you were on your way to training.

A tall, broad man whose gaze would scare anyone away. He seemed cold, distant, someone you could never get along with. A man with many secrets, someone who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his life for his Taskforce. Lieutenant Riley. He never formally introduced himself but you'd heard. You'd heard all the rumours and chatter that surrounded him and you almost felt guilty.

He'd lead training every once in a while, when your superiors were away on important missions. You'd always do your damn best during those times, you wanted his attention, you wanted his praise. Yet, he'd never even so much as glance at you. It left you empty, disappointed and jealous. Jealous of your superior, Sergeant Davidson who'd openly flirt with him in front of everyone, especially in front of you. It's like she had something against you specifically, she'd often make you drop and give her 20 if you did anything that displeased her.

Today had been a shitty day. You'd slept through your alarm and ended up late to an early training session. Your Sergeant made an example out of you, making you run laps and do extra push ups. You were tired and hungry as you'd also missed breakfast, your stomach growling loudly as you were exercising. She had no pity, it was your fault after all. "You shouldn't have been late." She told you. "Don't fuck with the rules." She berated you as you held a plank. She had her foot on your back, occasionally adding weight on you to make you shake and give in to the weight she'd put on you. It was a humiliating morning to say the least, yet your day somehow got worse.

He hated the way she treated you. He hated the way your Sergeant got a power trip every time you did the smallest thing wrong. He wanted to rip her off you, tell her off for treating a Private like an animal. He wasn't supposed to feel anything for you. Hell, he had never even spoken to you once. He would just chalk it up to him being tired and not sleeping through the night. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from looking at you.

At lunch, you were starving and the mess hall was full. Not having eaten since 8 am and you were in desperate need for food. You'd finally picked up your tray and the food looked mediocre at best but you were too hungry to care. You were looking for a place to sit but the mess hall was packed. You skillfully navigated through the crowd of famished soldiers until you found a place. You quickly walked over to it, but it seemed someone had had the same idea as you. In a loud crash, your food fell to the floor, face first because of course it did. Your stomach growled once more as you looked down at the splattered food on the floor. The soldier who had bumped into you quickly apologized, his food untouched apart from the splatter of sauce that had ended on your uniform. Instead of helping you, he bolted off to eat. As you cleaned up your food, you knew your lunch would consist of nothing but vending machine snacks.

He watched. He saw you get bumped into by the careless little soldier. He saw you mutter and swear as you looked down at your food on the floor, completely defeated. "Fuck me, fuck this stupid fucking day." You'd mutter. He saw the way you quietly stared down at your food before picking up the dirty dishes and cleaning up the mess you'd made. He saw the way the soldier left you to your own devices and wanted so badly to berate him for not helping you. But he couldn't. So he watched.

You had a bit of free time after eating your snacks so you went to get changed and take the shower you didn't have time to take. You picked up your clean uniform and headed off to the communal showers, getting ready to wash off the food and sweat off you from this morning. You stripped and eagerly got in the shower. A sudden gasp came out of you. The water was cold. Very fucking cold. It wouldn't warm up even as you waited, your hand in the water. So you took a quick, cold shower.

The shower had left you tense and unsatisfied. A fitting continuation for your awful day. Next came hand to hand combat training. This was led by Ghost, so it lifted your spirits up a little. You walked into the gym early, not wanting to repeat this morning's mistake. Ghost was already there and you saluted him. In what felt like the first time since you'd met, he spared a glance at you. His gaze was cold, his brown eyes felt like they were staring in your soul. It seemed like he was studying you as the glance turned into more of a look, his eyes wandering ever so slightly to your face before he spoke.

"At ease." His voice was deep, deeper than you'd remembered. You felt happy. He had addressed you. It was almost cathartic, hearing him speak directly to you. You almost wantwd him to say more but to your disappointment, he looked away from you and resumed his conversation with your Sergeant. She was laughing and smiling, clearly flirting with him but he wasn't paying her any mind. You found yourself a partner and surprisingly enough, training went without much of a hitch. Both Ghost and Sergeant Davidson were watching over and your Sergeant was being much nicer with Ghost watching over her shoulder.

That was until the Sergeant used you as an example. Ghost looked at her disapprovingly but you didn't notice. She'd tell you to defend yourself but every time would take you down with ease. It left you humiliated and defeated. She finally got off you, clearly proud of herself for whatever reason. Your sparring partner helped you up and muttered something. "That fuckin' bitch." You were happy someone was on your side yet you felt disappointed. Ghost had just stood there, watching. He didn't do anything.

He saw, his mind in turmoil. On one hand, he could stop your Sergeant from taking you down more and cut the training short. On the other hand, he could let her keep going. She was showing a good technique but she wouldn't even give you the chance to try it on her. So he just stood there, conflicted. He wasn't doing anything.

You left training as soon as you could. You were beyond pissed and annoyed at today. You rushed to the mess hall to eat something and for once, everything was going well. You were approached by a soldier. A poor little soldier who was just as oblivious of Ghost as you were. He flirted with you and made you laugh. It was the first time today you'd felt truly at ease. He was making you laugh and over all, the conversation was just nice. You ended up shutting the conversation down early but sharing your contact information with him, a new friend couldn't hurt after all.

Your laugh. Your fucking laugh. Music to Ghost's ears. Music he never even thought he'd like, a soft melody that soothed whatever emotion he was feeling at the time. But that laugh wasn't for him. It was for this other private, this bastard, who dared to approach you while you were eating. He continued watching as you gave the man your contact information and he seethed. He didn't want to be jealous, but he was. He watched you leave to go to the shooting range for your nightly routine and as soon as you were out of sight, he walked to the soldier. The soldier froze when he saw Ghost. Ghost put his hand out, gesturing for the soldier to hand over what you'd given him. The soldier obliged and handed him the paper and Ghost proceeded to chew him out. He was ashamed of what he was doing and couldn't believe he felt the need to chew out an irrelevant soldier for hitting on you. He'd let his jealousy get the better of him.

The range was empty at this hour. Well, not fully but enough for the gun shots to be few and far between, startling you every time one went off. Going to the range after dinner was a part of your routine. There was a sort of pleasure in shooting targets to let loose of your emotions, it was therapeutic. The recoil of the gun as it went off in your hands, whether it was a p226 or an M4A4. You'd shoot for a while, never really looked at the time. But you'd often shoot until you felt the recoil of the gun in your hand without shooting, a familiar feeling.

Then came the cleaning. Cleaning your guns was your favourite part. It was slow and required patience, something you enjoyed. You'd take apart your guns with great care, feeling every nook and cranny as you did so. You'd clean them, taking the time to remove the dirt and grease which had lodged itself in all the cracks and crevices of the pistol. You liked it when they looked brand new. You'd connect your headphones to your phone and would listen to music, wanting to relax and take the edge off as you did a task most thought was tedious. Putting the guns back together was like a puzzle. A puzzle you'd done so much you could do it with your eyes closed. The way everything fit together perfectly, the way each piece clicked together with a soft, metallic sound. It was like a lullaby, soothing you to sleep. A welcome sound as it meant you'd go to bed soon.

Your ritual was over and you felt weary, your eyes closing on their own. With that, your day ended. In your shitty little barrack bed, still oblivious to your shadow. You fell asleep weirdly content with the day you had. Your alarm was set and you were confident you'd be ready for whatever awaited you tomorrow.

The range was big. Lots of places to hide, lots of places to watch. He followed you, his footsteps quiet, completely unheard by you. He enjoyed watching you shoot. It had become his routine as well. He'd watch you, correct your stance in his head without ever approaching you, then he'd watch you clean your guns. It calmed him. It soothed his mind and made him strangely happy to see someone who took such great care in cleaning their guns. He always wondered what you listened to. What had your foot tapping the beat, what had you softly smile when you cranked up the volume. He'd figure it out one day, just not tonight.

[hellsslibrary]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ NSFW Alphabet with Ruggie Bucchi˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

DNI : minors.

#a.n. : I promise this is the last change in post design. I'll leave it for a few months, not days, really. (´。＿。｀)

!!Warnings : sub!bottom!Ruggie, breeding kink, teasing, praise/humiliation kink, toys, oral sex, light feminization, bratty behavior, male reader.

Jack <————«« Ruggie »»————> Leona

Savanaclaw. Ruggie Bucchi.

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is probably tired. His fatigue is not critical, but it is still fatigue. But I see him as much as possible as a person (beastman?) who desperately needs your praise and care after sex. Like, hell, he's definitely a brat, so he needs to make sure you're not angry or something.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Well... His favorite part of you is probably your whole face(?). He is definitely a person who loves to tease. So to see how your face is distorted in one emotion or another is a great joy for him.

And his favorite part of his body is definitely his legs. Well, in the end, thanks to his childhood, he is very good at using his legs to avoid problems, so they are definitely chiseled and muscular (although still thin thanks to his physique in general).

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He cums a little at a time, and bringing him to an orgasm that is too intense is quite difficult, if possible in principle. And his sperm is more liquid than the average.

Well... He loves when you cum inside him. Who in their right mind would think otherwise? He is an animal hybrid after all.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Mmm, I guess he'd like to seriously get pregnant by you (if it wasn't for the biological make-up, of course. But if your OC is someone who can impregnate someone regardless of gender, drop it here or not lol, mine too anyway). Like, really, he would like to have about two children (puppies?), and provide them with a better life than he had. And he just loves the idea that you could seriously impregnate him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He's... a virgin, yes. But he definitely knows a lot. Like really a lot. Because judging by the stories and articles from the Internet about what is happening in such areas where he lived, then he should have observed sex of other people at least once in his life.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Well... Any position where he can see your face, out of obvious love for your face, as I mentioned earlier.

Oh yes, he definitely does. He loves to tease or make fun of you during sex. It seems that at one moment you calmly fuck, and then he shouts out some strange and vulgar thing.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I don't think he's too hairy in general, so he doesn't have much hair there either. And they are even lighter than on drapes, so he does not see the need to clean them up somehow.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Nah, he's not a romantic, really. Perhaps, after advancing your relationship in the future, he will become a romantic one way or another, but not soon for sure. For him, sex is just the satisfaction of your needs.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't have time for this, lol. Although sometimes, very rarely, he may do this while he takes a shower, but this happens extremely rarely.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink (no, I'm not making it easy for myself by sticking this kink with everyone in Savanaclaw, they're a beasts, I have the right to). I've already explained this, so let's move on. Well... Besides the obvious kink of praise, he definitely has a kink of humiliation (although don't touch on his finances and don't call him "poor", please). And maybe he has a kink for feminization/crossdressing. He likes to dress up for you sometimes, so he doesn't mind it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Mmm, he doesn't mind any place, to be honest. But I think his favorite would be any place in nature. Forest, field, some clearing. Something like that.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Whispers turn him on! Your whisper, to be exact. I think he has very good hearing, so when you lean into his ear and whisper anything to him, pleasant goosebumps run through his body, and blood rushes to his dick. But he is quite easily excitable, speaking in general.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

As I mentioned earlier, no way, no way really, don't mention his financial situation and his childhood anyway. Also, I guess he wouldn't like it if you even teasingly said something like "Maybe I should find someone who is better than you at (something) or for me in general."

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Oh, he definitely love more to give. He loves to suck you off, especially if you fuck his throat while doing it. It's just so exciting how rough you are with him.

On his own I think he'd love more if you teased him anyway. Just lick his cock from time to time or lick his rim? Yes, something like that. He loves to cum from your cock in him more than oral.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely fast and rough. He loves rough, wild and in a sense animal sex. Although he is in the mood for something more sensual, he still prefers rough sex.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Yes, this happens quite often. He ends up incredibly busy with these things of his, so you both often have a quick fuck in some closets/empty classrooms/toilets and so on. His attitude is quite positive, sex is sex anyway.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He is very very like that, yes. Like he's ready for a lot, really. He knows how to take risks and experiment if you, he or both of you want it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He certainly has a huge stamina, thanks to his childhood. So it lasts incredibly long and long. Maybe 7-15 rounds?

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes, just yes. He loves when he has free time to send you this or that photo / video where he uses some kind of toy on himself and writes something like "oh, now if it was you, it would be better, but unfortunately it's not you ;b".

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

He loves, he's one of the strongest teasers out there, no matter how, he'll do it if it makes you horny and possibly punish him for it later.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He... 7/10? He's quite loud, although if he's on its edge it can be about 9/10.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

It has extremely sensitive ears and tail. If you scratch behind his ear for long enough, he might even get a boner. The same goes for its tail, especially its base.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Muscular, especially in the legs, body, but he is still quite thin. Perhaps there are a few scars here and there. As for his cock... Strict 4 inches / 10 centimeters. And he's definitely not circumcised.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a high libido, but not extremely high. But he still wants you all the time. He can just think of you at any time and he can feel himself shrinking around the void in anguish.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fell asleep afterwards)

It depends absolutely on you. If you want to sleep, then of course. But if not, then he is ready to stay awake. But not for long, he still wants to sleep very much.

[lovehypegirl]

LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER (2)

SYNOPSIS: BEING MANAGER NAM'S TEENAGE DAUGHTER WARNINGS: NONE NOTES: NONE WC: 1.7K

In his opinion, you were easier to handle as a child since you were very predictable

He knew when you were hungry, when you were tired, when you were sick, when you were thirsty, when you wanted to play

But now you're a teenager, you weren't as vocal and a little more closed off

Until he got used to your new teenage mannerisms, he would have to ask you how you were feeling

Also, he did not put up with your attitude. He was a rather firm father and he had no problem with telling you when your attitude was out of line

"(name)" he said in a firm manner. "I'm not sure if my absence has caused you to think that you could act out of line but that is not what's going on" he looked you in the eye

You looked to the side trying to avoid his firm gaze "'m sorry". Your fifteen-year old self felt like a soldier under his disciplining gaze

"I know you are, so you need to change your behavior from now on, do you understand me?" he placed his hands on your shoulders

"Yes, dad" you nodded "I understand"

"Good"

He had placed you in martial arts from childhood and here you were in your teenage years competing

Whenever you stood in the center fighting against another teen your age he would always be giving you a critical eye and criticisms after your matches

But as always, he praised you. You were his daughter. The daughter of A.R.E.S' 'world class' fighter. His genes went strongly. No wonder you always won first place.

"Your arm could have been higher for your third block"

"Dad, this ain't a battleground...it's a martial arts match" you pointed your first place trophy at him

He ruffled your head messing up your hair "I know, I know. You did good, as always kiddo"

After Minjis kidnapping arc, his first idea was to make sure you never ran into Manager Kim, Jincheol Park, and Hansu Seong

Okay, so that didn't work

Apparently, you attended the same school as Dabin so Jincheol got a hold of you and told you that your father was in the hospital (he also included that he was the one who beat your father up)

Jincheol pulled him into the 'dad's-with-daughters-club' which Nam did not want to be in but really didn't have a choice since you don't exactly oppose Jincheol

You easily got along with Jincheol who was going on and on about how Nam had raised an amazing daughter who was mature and well-behaved and such and such and how he wished how that you were friends with Dabin and Jesus Christ his smile probably stretched over his face and around the world when you told him that you and Dabin had your duo

He went on and on about how much you looked like your father and how Nam should be proud of having a daughter like you

(They did apologize for beating up your father)

And GOD FORBID you date Taehun Seong, Nam would NOT be happy

I'm sure he'd live with it but would not like it. Like at all

"Really? Him?"

You blinked a few times "Were you expecting me to bring Choi San in through the door?"

"With how much you talk about him? Yes"

"Well- okay fair"

He doesn't really understand k-pop but he'll buy you albums whenever you ask, he'll get you everything you need for your photocards, he'll buy you concert tickets and whatnot

Anything to keep you from running your mouth about all the concepts he doesn't understand, granted he's an ex-mercenary

He loves you dearly, but he doesn't care about Wonyoungism. But he'll buy your skincare

Does he know what salicylic acid is and what it does? No, but he trusts you to know what you're buying

And although he loves you dearly, he DESPISES parent-teacher conferences (he's had a few of your female elementary school teachers hit on him before)

When he gifts you things for christmas it's gifts like vinyl, kpop albums, makeup (that you make a list for), new shoes, clothes, ect

But for your birthday, he gifts more precious items, as he sees your birthday to be of highest importance. He's gifted you Cartier, Van Cleef, and would have you

He encourages you to do what you want but there are some jobs he's restricted you from. Like the military. But he did allow you to join the JROTC since he thought it would push you towards ideas of valor and loyalty. He doesn't want you to end up like him, stuck in a mercenary group with killing everyone being the only way out. Doesn't matter if naval aviation is different from the AKL

"C'mon, I wanna be a pilot!" you said as you lifted yourself up and down on the counter in a vertical press-up fashion

"Then fly an airplane" he said nonchalantly

"I don't wanna fly a commercial plane! I wanna fly a fighter jet!" you leaned on the kitchen counter as he cut up the vegetables in precise pieces

"Doesn't matter, it's not happening pet"

"Ughhhh"

Imagine you're someone who enjoys true crime and you're sitting on the couch watching a particular gruesome episode of your favorite show while you're waiting for your dad to come home

You sat on the couch with your knees drawn to your chest as Chicago PD played on the screen. Your heard your father come in through the front door

You heard your fathers footsteps stop behind the couch as the tv screen showed the cops pulling a decapitated body out of the water and cutting to a scene of the decapitated head

"What on Earth are you watching" he said

"Chicago PD. It's getting good" you replied, not even turning around but keeping your eyes glued to the screen as they gave a close-up of the body

"Jesus. Whatever happened to Bluey or Kipper the Dog?" he asked as he tossed his suit jacket onto a nearby chair

"Dad quiet, they're examining the body" you held up your pointer finger to 'shush' him

He usually doesn't fuss too much over your grades (I don't think he did that well in school) but he just cares about the effort that you put in towards your grades more so than the result

When you were younger, you got a really bad grade on a certain subject so when you got out of school, you ran home and dug through your mailbox to find your report card and tuck it into your pants and you shuffled through the house heading through barricade "Dad" giving him robotic one worded response

You tucked the report card under your mattress and hid in your room the rest of the evening and shuffled downstairs for dinner

The entire meal you avoided his eyes and he had to bribe it out of you with cake and a trip to the zoo

He wasn't mad at you for the bad grade but he was disappointed that you hid the report card

You stopped hiding your report cards since your grades got better and in your teen years, you had no reason to hide report cards since your school had a website for parents to check on grades

Additionally, when you were little, he didn't know anything about what clothes little girls liked to wear so he bought what you pointed your finger at

You ended up with a leather aviator hat with goggles that you begged your dad for at the Intrepid in New York City, a baseball shirt, cargo shorts with a water gun tucked into your waistband

like this (You were also the pinnacle of Yotsuba from Yotsuba&! when you were a child)

or you would wear a tutu instead of shorts with knee-high socks with stripes and hot pink sneakers and it was fashion

In your teen years, he would just give you his card to shop with for all your clothes

Messy pigtails with bows that would be crazy lopsided at the end of the day turned into long hair pulled back neatly into a claw clip

Dirty fingernails from catching cicadas turned into perfectly manicured fingers wrapping your knuckles in tape after a match

Wet t-shirts from spending afternoons catching frogs turned into feet in the water while fishing with Nam in the summer

A portrait of you and him stood proudly on his nightstand. Him in his military uniform and you in your JROTC uniform. He looks at it every day and brought it with him to the A.R.E.S base

And cause you learn to fight, you've gotten into a few fights with girls at school who've tried to pour milk on you but you pulled a pocket knife on them

The car ride home was silent as Nam drove you back from school. Early pick up and a four day suspension. You poked at the leather of the BMW car seat mentally preparing for whatever lecture your father was going to give you He slowed the car down at a red light and let out a sigh The signature dad 'I'm gonna say something to scold you' sigh. Nam could swear up and down that he's never sighed like that until you came along "y/n" he began and you slowly looked over at him "If you were going to fight then you should've kept it under wraps. I thought that I had taught you to plan for damage control" "Um" how were you supposed to respond to that? "Now, I don't know what this girl did to make you lash out - so much so as you pulled a knife on her-" Nam said as the light turned green and he began to drive again "Oh please, it was a Swiss Army Knife. Those are lousy weapons" "Do you think the school board cares about that? Especially since "Her father is on the school board" "Her father is on the school board" You said as the same time "Yeah yeah" you waved it off. "He can't expell me I'm the best student AND! The school won't release this to keep their image good" you looked over at him "The only issue is shutting up the dad" you said as you pointed your finger at him "First of all, put your finger down. Secondly, don't change the subject - I'll deal with you at home. And thirdly, leave her father to me"

Tbh, he never understood half of what you did (or said) but you were his only daughter and he loves you so much

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[invinciblerodent]

Omg a fellow Rook enjoyer. It's so nice to see some positivity in this hellscape fandom. I am getting so tired of weeding through posts criticizing Rook as being "incurious" but then they also complain that Rook asks too many questions? And that Rook is too nice and they can't be evil but also Rook is too mean (to Solas specifically)??? Like, Rook is your character??? Your player character? That you're supposed to use your imagination to play? If you don't like the character you made maybe that's a skill issue???

Lol, that's exactly how I feel about it, that it's 100% skill issue- and honestly, that's probably one of the pieces of critique that I find the most frustrating. (Well. You know, not accounting for things that are, idk, blatantly sexist, racist, queerphobic, xenophobic, ignorant, or interpreting the source material in a way that' it's just straight-up incorrect and makes me wonder whether the person even played the same game that I did.)

And, if you don't mind me going off for a bit here... too nice, too mean, too incurious, talks too much, blank slate, predetermined; the simple fact that all these contradictory pieces of criticism can coexist as things people say with their full chests, as if they were objectively true, should, I think, be in itself a sign that what the person is saying it not really about the game... but about predetermined expectations they had, ones which they just can't seem to move past.

I think this utter lack of a consensus indicates that fundamentally, deep down (in my experience, not just in this fandom, but in most, and especially those that have a fairly low barrier for entry, and/or a roleplaying element, like many video games) lies a kind of... unwillingness, maybe, to take a piece of pop culture as the art it is, and engage with it as it is.

This kind of thing, it's... annoying, and disappointing, and it just keeps repeating itself, over and over, with each new popular game, and I'm genuinely beginning to think that the culprit might just in part be that people look at video games, and don't see them as pieces of narrative fiction they were invited to step into, but as something that they expect to be tailor-made for them specifically- and one of the easiest ways to give that critique, that "it's not what I would have written for myself", an air of legitimacy is through the protagonist- the piece of the puzzle that they were invited to draw themselves.

The Inquisitor was called a bad protagonist, because they didn't have every potential background imaginable, and it wasn't verbally acknowledged very often, but also because accessibility for new players and the customizability of the character was prioritized, so they were made to be able to ask many questions, and not to volunteer many opinions and personal insights. (Which, in a game in part about imposed identity and a contrast between perception and self is really interesting, but that's a whole other can of worms.)

Not long later, Ryder in ME:A was called a bad protagonist, because their singular background was written in a way that tied intimately into- and was central to the story, and they had a couple comments and asides that showed that they had a personality folded into who they are, which limited player flexibility to the expected degree, but added more concrete narrative element to their journey as a character.

Tav was called a bad protagonist, because BG3 took that piece of inspiration from DnD too, and left the creation of the protagonist to the player fully, as one would in any regular campaign- but the Dark Urge character was praised, because their background was narrowly defined and central to the story, they got a lot of extra content specific to them, and we got to learn many of the details of their pre-written life prior to the game's events.

And now Rook is called a bad protagonist, because, let me check my notes here... they have a fairly wide range of potential backgrounds that are not super defined for the sake of player flexibility, they have a handful of potential dialogue options that relate to their chosen background (mostly to reiterate information we already had about them from those blurbs), they have different types of relationships with certain characters depending on who you chose they were prior to the game, and they have three whole traits(!) that are defined about every version of them: that they have a respect for life, that they don't have much respect for authority, and that they're the protagonist of a game that's broadly about compassion and teamwork.

It's all contradictory, but it's still all the same, because the only thing these comments all have in common is that they are based not on what these games are, but on what the player saying them wanted them to be. It's determined not by the content and the merits of the art, but by the speaker's judgement on whether what they saw fit into what they wanted to see, and it's summed up neatly by words like boring, and bad, and bland- words that are entirely subjective, not really supported by any specific part of the text, and purposefully impossible to disprove.

That grinds my gears as someone who loves the Dragon Age setting and story, as someone who loves creating characters and making up little arcs for them (wouldn't call myself a writer necessarily, but in this respect I suppose I might be), and as a person who is just broadly a Literature Enjoyer.

Sigh. I need to stop talking because I'll keep going for hours if I'm allowed, but the bottom line is...

Games are art, and roleplaying is improv.

More people need to learn to just say "yes, and".

[burr-ell]

all i'll say in anticipation of tlovm 10-12 is this. if people have a problem with the way things are adapted, the way NOT to handle it is to get on your high horse like "um it's an ADAPTATION, ugh these c1 purists". the story is fictional but my annoyance is real, and you aren't helping.

i've really gotten tired of the "trust the cast, it's their story" mantra that cr fandom trots out whenever anyone criticizes anything (at least anything popular). i don't know these people. YOU don't know these people. all i know is the product they're making that i'm now paying for. if i think it did well, i'll praise it (and have), but if i think it did something poorly, i'll say so.

i hope very much that episodes 10-12 stick the landing, but there is a very real possibility that they won't, and it's not enough to just say "wait and see" (especially since followup seasons aren't assured). people should be able to be honest when things disappoint them AND think critically about why they dislike it, and demanding that people stop caring about something because you don't want to see criticism of a thing you like isn't going to foster that environment.

[madame-periwinkle]

Ateez Reaction - Running You Over With Their Car

Genre: Crack, Reaction, Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: Almost 1k

Warning: depiction of car accidents and illegal behavior portrayed in a comedic manner (both Ateez and the reader), reader is injured

Song Rec : Rover by Kai

You decide to take a stroll during the night, exploring the beautiful city of Seoul. Finding the nightlife too hectic, you opt for one of the quieter areas. All is well, until you decide to cross a street on a small road. Before you know it, you're greeted by two bright lights and almost instantly, darkness along with the smell of rubber. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to wear dark clothes tonight.

Hongjoong

Hongjoong stops his car immediately, brakes slamming comically loud and the tires screeching

He rushes out of his car, cursing both out of frustration and fear

He sprints to your crumpled body and starts shaking you frantically

You jolt up and curse him out for literally running you over

He just looks at you with that panicked squirrel expression

"Please don't sue me"

"I'm going to sue you"

The court cooks Hongjoong after a look from his dashcam

To make up for his losses after his legal defeat, Hongjoong releases a new song

Music critics praise it for its percussion

Until you decide to listen closely (he was your op but he sure knew how to make bops)

Turns out he literally sampled the exact moment where his car and your body collided

Seonghwa

The prettiest man you've ever seen rushes out of his car

Even the darkness of night can't his perfect features

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry"

Seonghwa rambles on, his boba eyes showing genuine concern

You're a sucker for people that actually take accountability and Seonghwa being a super gorgeous person is a bonus

He reaches his hand out and you reach for it

You only grab onto a fistful of sleeve

You look up

Seonghwa is wearing the most convoluted shirt ever and he managed to look so elegant

His shirt has ridiculously big sleeves and lots of ruffles

The sleeves fully envelop his hands

There's no way he could've had control of the wheel wearing those

"Why tf were you wearing those gargantuan sleeves?"

After a lot of angry questioning, Seonghwa confesses

He did see you before running you over (accidentally)

But his hands physically could not grip the wheel due to his shirt

Which he fully knew before taking the wheel

But there was no way he'd wear something ugly

Yunho

He does the right thing (mostly)

Yunho rushes over to you and makes sure you're all good and dandy

You aren't, but that's a problem for another day

Yunho fervently starts apologizing

Turns out he decided to leave the house after a Mario Kart marathon which spanned for several days

Yunho explains that this gaming marathon caused him to hallucinate being in Mario Kart while he was driving

Yes, he thought you were an item box

Of course you get mad

Not only did he game to the point of delirium, but he thought you looked like those holographic minecraft looking cubes

In an attempt to get you to calm down, Yunho explains that it could have been worse

He could've been playing Valorant

Wait, how could that be possible?

Don't tell me that he has access to military grade artillery...

Yeosang

You lie on the asphalt as the car drives away

Did you legit get hit and run?

Accepting your circumstance and also being too lazy to get up, you resign yourself to your fate

The stars look beautiful tonight

You hear engines revving

The car had turned itself around, revealing the driver, one of the most handsome man you've laid your eyes on

Too bad he doesn't have his eyes on you

"Oops wrong turn"

Yeosang is looking at his GPS while on a facetime call with Wooyoung, who is giving him directions as well

His car is headed straight towards you

For the second time that night, you got run over

"Yeosang what was that?"

"I think that was a speed bump"

San

San stumbles out of the car

He sees you lying helplessly on the floor

There's tire streaks all over you

You're not moving

In fact, it was hard to tell if you were breathing

You were fully conscious and not that hurt

However you were trying to make the lawsuit money as high as possible

As a big advocate of health and fitness, San rushed into action

His members clowned him for getting CPR certified

But oh if they could see him now

Using all of his strength, San went for chest compressions

He even sang Wave to keep his compressions perfectly timed

So the thing about CPR is that the movies don't show how hard you have to actually do them

"EUGHGHHHGGHGHG"

"Yay, you're alive!"

You learned the hard way that CPR can break ribs

Mingi

It takes him a while to register what happened

Not because he's in shock, but because his stereo is on max volume

When his car made contact with your body, he thought it was just the bass going ham

Until he sees a lump in his rear view mirror

Mingi pulls over right next to you

His tires are like 2 cm from your face and you were praying the whole time as he reversed way above the speed limit

You're trying to have a conversation with him

However he's literally rapping along to the song playing

He's really good, but time and place

"Bro I literally got run over tf are you doing?"

He holds a hand up, and you can see his designer rings

"The beat is about to drop give me a sec"

Mingi bursts out dancing

Wooyoung

The driver takes his sweet time to park his car

Wooyoung leaves the car, wearing a nice pair of shades

Why was this man wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night?

Soon enough, he's standing over your fallen body

You feel a kick

You tilt your eyes to see the most cartoon looking shoes you've ever seen

Those clompers could level out an entire termite mound

"Stop kicking me with these goofy-ah stompers"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have gotten run over"

"Excuse me???"

"Skill issue"

You shoot up, pure rage and pettiness fueling your newfound energy

It doesn't take long for you to run to his car

Seoul Hospital admits two patients that night

Jongho

Jongho immediately clocks that he ran over someone

Even if his karaoke playlist on spotify was all the way up, and he was belting for his life

He actually helps you up

You think it'll go all well and dandy, after all this lad is so polite

Until he reaches out into his pocket and pulls out cash

It's a good sized wad

"How about we both decide this never happened?"

Is this man seriously trying to bribe you?

The money's tempting, but his Mercedes Benz indicates that there's more to be won through a juicy lawsuit

You refuse the money

Jongho lets out a hearty sigh, but he doesn't seem distressed at all

"This is going to ruin the tour"

"What tour?"

"The world tour"

Note: Thank you for reading everyone! This is my first fanfic in like 7 years and I'm still very new to posting my writing online.

[riteliso]

This is a Catra doodle I did a bit ago to make sure my drawing skills didn't COMPLETELY atrophy.

I think since this space is so alien to me I'm fine being up front with my experiences with this show, actually--

I watched the show because I was genuinely fervently rabid with need for lesbians fighting each-other. Rivalries are my favourite kind of romance, and when it's fictional, I'm a "the meaner the better" kinda gal.

I certainly felt an immediate emotional draw to Catra. My first watch through I was so tunnel-visioned on her and Adora's relationship that-- I wasn't checked OUT persay, but whenever Catra wasn't on screen, I was deep in the "where's poochie?" mud.

I am-- a very critical girl. Absolutely to a fault. So, really, I was watching it to fulfill that girlfight sim meter I had that was DANGEROUSLY low. I usually make it a point not to watch things that "get better later," because in my experience, people often LIE when they say that. I, as a published author, (yes I'm being a dickhead and pulling that card even though it means NOTHING,) am under the belief that the start of your story and the end of your story have to hit the hardest.

In this respect, I find myself very happy I was in such a manic and needy mood when I decided to watch spop. I wouldn't have stuck it through if it weren't for that-- the first season isn't BAD by any means, but it's much closer to AVERAGE compared to the rest of the series.

Princess Prom as an episode irreversibly affected my brain. It was so good and got me so hype that I truly, truly, fell in love with a show all at once that, before that point, I had found "overwhelmingly charming." I have plenty of praises for what the series does pre-princess prom, sure-- but that's mostly the extremely thick use of phrases such as "this is what you left me for," "she's just confused," et cetera.

From that point I was glued to the screen, leaning over my desk, watching intently, with a cloying desperation to see how everything would work out in the end. For those who don't know me-- ever since I sort of discovered my gender identity, my "kayfabe" or "persona" for lack of better wording has been very firmly "cartoonishly angry woman who has a taste for evil." I'm sure that already spells out where I'm going with this--

I related to Catra on a level I have truly never related to-- ANYTHING before. While watching I went from a joking "damn, she just like me fr" to a very serious "why is she so-- uncannily similar to me?" The answer I eventually landed on was just- a beautiful kinda accident. There's certainly some level of nature involved-- I do read Catra as extremely bi-polar, but that's heavily supported by my bias as a bi-polar woman who identifies so deeply with her. But the other thing is, we kinda share a lot of DNA when it comes to our, like- dark backstories.

I'm not gonna BORE you with every gory little DETAIL, but both me and Catra's traumatic histories can be simplified into "at the most vulnerable time in our lives, an older woman who we desperately sought praise, attention, and PROTECTION from tired to take away our personhood and domesticate us in the most literal way possible, not respecting us as an individual, but only as a tool, and at best, a pet."

The trauma and the scars that leaves on your soul are-- uniquely identifiable. I think if you take the core idea of "weird angry girl" and put them through that trauma, as long as you're good at character-directed writing, you will end up with something that looks like Catra and I.

And I'm sure you've all come to the conclusion long before I have that yes, I do kin Catra. I didn't know near enough about kinning after watching the show the first time-- or the SECOND time, where I watched it with my wonderful girlfriend-- but after seeing what felt like "prophetic" fan-art one too many times, I had a dream. As in, literally, I had a dream.

In this dream, I was watching the stream of a friend of mine who does not actually exist. However, this theoretical friend was a huge pngtuber who happened to also be a Snufkin Kinnie who was huge in the kinning community. At one point, in this dream, they mention me, not knowing I'm watching their stream. They say something along the lines of--

"Yeah, I have this friend-- and you know, I never push anyone to identify any way, I never diagnose other people, it's rude and unhelpful-- but she is VERY stuck on Catra. Yeah, from She-ra. And, like, again-- it's not my place, I'm not gonna say anything-- but it's so obvious that it's EMBARRASSING."

Waking up from that dream was frustrating for a number of reasons-- the chief of which being that if I didn't know enough about kinning to make a decision, how the FUCK did my brain know enough to make a LITERAL BRUTAL CALLOUT on TWITCH DOT FUCKING TV? But that's neither here nor there--

I had already kinda admitted to myself I saw her as an inspiration-- she was not only very-- ME, but where my frustration came from was that she was acting more ME than I was, because SHE wasn't afraid of people thinking she was a WEIRD FREAK.

And so-- I talked to some friends who knew more about kinning. One friend in particular said not only could she really see it, but that it had come up in her head before, and then when I told her I was considering it partially from the frustration of Catra acting more like me than I was, said--

"Only a Catra kinnie would find out they kin Catra out of spite."

Which is accurate, but jesus, sister, pump the fuckin breaks, let me get ACCLIMATED FIRST

And in classic Catra fashion the second I accepted what I had to and moved forward I was instantly slapped by every stair on the god damn way down-- Not in a cruel way, but I'll admit I woulda put up more resistance to the idea of kinning Catra if I knew the day I told my girlfriend about it we'd run into the information of her middle and last names being "Applesauce Meowmeow." Semi-canon is canon enough for my girl to make fun of me, and that's what matters.

Anyway-- I know that was all REALLY rambly and nothing-- but I felt like typing it all out. It's been a weird year. There was a piece of fanart in particular that I think sparked the dream I had-- where Catra goes to kiss Adora but then fakes her out and licks her nose. I had done that to my girlfriend just days prior to me seeing that for the first time, while we were WATCHING spop. And I'm sure that plenty of antagonistic bratty lesbians do the same, (or I'm entirely off base and it really is just me and Catra but let me cope here alright,) but it really did feel like something turning to me and going: "This is as you as it gets, girlie. People see Catra and they imagine her acting exactly as you do."

I'll end this post on this pearl of cute info about me and my girl:

I bite her and call her chew-toy

She tolerates that and calls me cat-nip

And we love each-other very much.

[1800naveen]

Fancasting.

Me when I see mfs fancasting Henry Cavill to play Rhysand (leave that white man alone😭):

I was scrolling through reels a couple of weeks ago and saw this lady doing a interview with him and she mentioned that he's "popular" as a fancast when it comes to booktok and apparently, he knows it and doesn't see to mind it? (I'm trying my best to recall it so bear with me)

He has good book recommendations (saw this Tik Tok of him talking about Brandon Sanderson so I can trust him on that, heard nothing but praise when it comes to Brandon) and I doubt that Sarah is a genre for him. Anyone can read what they want but he doesn't give that vibe to me, y'know? I could be wrong but eh.

He's also a smart guy and seems to have critical thinking. So imagine if he decided to pick up Acotar, reads the first book, and go "what the fuck? And people root for this guy?" Just to find out that he's a popular fancast for Rhysand.

What's the chokehold this man has on booktok? I can't lie because he got me in one to (he can literally choke me- I'm sorry y'all)

I've seen fancasting him for Rowan Whitethorn in Throne of Glass which I don't mind but what I do mind is when PEOPLE TAKE GERALT AND CIRI TO FANCAST AS ROWAN AND AELIN!

YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT, LADIES AND GENTS. @viktoriaashleyyx I don't know if you're aware of it but if you are now, sorry you had to find out this way🙏🏾

THE GIANT ASS AGE GAP BETWEEN ROWAELIN IS WILD BUT AT LEAST, THEY'RE BOTH ADULTS. YOU ARE TAKING A FATHER AND DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP FOR YOUR FAVORITE SHIP?

Have y'all even watched the witcher or read the books because it's clear that you haven't.

Here's the wiki for Ciri (Netflix's version)

I can understand why people would take Ciri/Freya Allen and cast her as Aelin.

Ashen-grey hair

Emerald green eyes

A princess and heir to her kingdom, Cintra

Aelin:

Golden blonde hair

Turquoise eyes ringed with gold

A princess and heir to her kingdom, Terrasen

But there's a catch. Take a look at the family section of her wiki.

You get why it's weird and (let's be honest) controversial to fancast these two as a couple in another series?

Now, I can't talk as I take Geralt as a fancast for Maegor Targaryen (The Cruel) but they do fit. White hair, big, buff, and tough warriors, mommy issues (Sorry Maegor), and they're infertile (Maegor isn't confirmed to be infertile but he always failed to have a kid so....). The only difference is that Geralt is a good lover (If I can recall correctly) and has a kid despite not being his own flesh and blood. (Hell, I might use Yennefer as a fancast for Ashara Dayne.)

And can you imagine how some people will react if a white guy was casted as Rhysand?

Can you imagine how some people will react if a man of color was casted as Rhysand?

Either way, it's a shitstorm. The better and possibly the safest solution is casting a Mediterranean actor.

Anyways, I made this during the night and now, I'm tired. Take care and don't take this post to heart or take it too seriously✌🏾

(Share your thoughts if you like but no arguing, fighting, etc).

[valevntine]

okay, this is going to be a long ass post about ai, and i'm not going to be kind about it. i think i always try to be, but as an artist there's nothing that pisses me off more.

i'm going to talk about this specifically from an artist's point of view because i'm not a writer, musician nor anything else. i'm also not going to dive into the environmental and ethical issues of it (that would need a whole another post), but here's a few interesting articles i liked, just in case you've been living under a rock: ai's environmental impact, celebrities' deepfakes, ethical issues regarding ai.

not too long ago i participated in a local art contest. there wasn't anything that explicitly stated if ai generated pieces could take part or not - if i knew for certain that they were allowed, i wouldn't have joined -, the prize was 300€. i think it goes without saying that a sum of money like that one could be helpful for anyone, let alone a beginner artist trying to get their name known. do you know who won? a “drawing” made out of ai - and an ugly one at that. after the organisers were met with the general dissatisfaction and protest from the public, the winner even had the courage to make fun of and belittle the work of all the other artists who entered the contest, affirming he was smart because he chose the "easy way out".

if you use ai, you're not an artist. you can't call yourself an artist. and if you are, you're shitting on the work of so many. you're being an insensitive, disrespectful prick. yes, you can have the idea. most of us probably have an actual great fucking idea for a masterpiece inside of us, but not having the skill for it and settling for ai to chase after the empty thrill of being able to say "hey, i made this!" doesn't make you a creative. you know what that makes you? a selfish piece of shit. you're so afraid of doing it badly that you'll settle for this instead. being an artist means having the skill to perpetually practice and create a piece of art, whether that's a painting, a drawing, a song, a sculpture, a piece of writing. you'll have the entitlement to create only when you'll take your time to hone and build a craft, to perfect your skill, to be vulnerable and create something and make the world see it even if you maybe don't even like it, if you're unsure about it. i promise that will be so much better and braver than clicking a few buttons, typing out a few words and ta-da! your image is created.

also, do we know how ai art is created? do we remember it steals from actual artists? generative ai takes our work, it learns from it, and it spits out its nonsense without us artists ever seeing anything in exchange for it - except for the damage it causes. us artists have years of experience on our backs. i have been drawing since i can remember, i have taken upon learning it seriously for 10 years now. i attended art school for four of those years, i spent an unimaginable amount of money on it (which is also a privilege many don't have), and every day i'm afraid for my future career. i'm devoting all my time on this because i can't see myself doing anything else.

if i catch any of you putting ai generated shit into the world - especially if you're part of a fandom, because that alone deserves a whole another discourse - you'll be on the receiving end of my whole, unadulterated rage. i will tear you down. i will shit on you and your work, because there is no excuse for it.

do it bad, do it messy, do it a thousand times over, but please, don't settle for ai because it's "easier". no art is ever bad or ugly, i promise, and you'll certainly be brave and deserving of praise even just for putting yourself out there.

to anyone who's not an artist: support us. please, i beg you, commission your artists, show us your love, share our work, make us feel validated because this is getting awfully tiring. our work is already subjected to enough criticism as it is - you have no idea how many fucking times i've heard my work being belittled, being told that what i'm doing is something easy - but with the rise of ai it has only gotten much worse.

in conclusion: your ai "art" is ugly. your dignity is little and repulsive.

[basu-shokikita]

Nathan reacting to each member being removed Dethklok

Just a huge disclaimer forehand that I know not all the situations had the same gravity, etc. But I still wanted to talk about them because I think they're interesting.

I want to go in a crescendo of sorts so I'm not going through the episodes in chronological order.

Murderface and Toki

I'm starting with Dethsiduals (S3E07) because Toki and Murderface have been called useless by the rest of the band quite a few times, making them a bit of a slacking duo.

So, in this episode, Nathan, Pickles and Skwisgaar get all fed up with these two's behavior and decide to throw them out of the band. Nathan does the honors, of course.

At first, it's great. Their workload gets easier to deal with, managing to record several dozens of songs in mere hours. Pickles even says that kicking them out might have been the best choice.

That is until they realize, they're having TOO much fun. Their songs don't sound good because they're having fun. It's not brutal anymore, because They're so happy that it no longer is brutal, their music sucks instead. And you can't have Dethklok without brutality.

Eventually, they ask Murderface and Toki to come back, on the account that their sound simply isn't the same without them. It's definitely more focused on Murderface, though, as his negativity and aggressive behavior is partly the reason their music is brutal. Because he annoys them and criticizes them...

This theme makes a comeback in Army of Doomstar, of course.

Pickles

In Rehabklok (S3E08), where Pickles experiences is sent to rehab after a technical malfunction at a show.

Because they still need a drummer for the band, so they get a drum machine. Everyone is in awe and don't seem to find a problem with this change. Nathan even thinks it's perfect.

Though, he briefly wonders if this would make Pickles mad, only to be reassured by Skwisgaar that it's fine.

Sometime after, the drum machine has completely adapted to the band. The band can't stop praising the machine.

When Pickles comes back, no one seems too impressed and Nathan casually tells him that he's been replaced by the drum machine.

The drum machine gets too smug, though, and the band quickly grows tired of him. Also, Pickles has finished his last Rehab step which means he can join Dethklok again. And that they can get rid of this drum machine.

We all know how that goes, the drum machine tries to kill them and Pickles saves them. For which Dethklok are evidently grateful for, and also praise his return.

Skwisgaar

Finally, we get to Fatherklok (S3E05) where, in the search for his father, Skwisgaar abandons the band. Mind you this is the one instance where a member isn't kicked out but actually leaves off his own volition.

While Skwisgaar tries to make his new life in Sweden, Dethklok have a rehearsal. It doesn't go well. Toki is acting up because he's the only guitarist now, Murderface is too busy trying to contact Skwisgaar to care and Pickles' daddy issues are resurfacing. Rather than work this through, Nathan immediately decides to get Skwisgaar back from Sweden.

Problem is, when they get to Sweden, Skwisgaar doesn't seem to want to get back to Dethklok, which Nathan respects. Before leaving though, he gives Skwisgaar a few words.

We all know Skwisgaar quickly rejoins the band afterwards.

So what do we have here?

In Dethsiduals, the band is initially very glad to have kicked Murderface and Toki from the band. They feel like they work better without them, however it's a double-edged sword because they work too good, and that is not good for the band, in fact.

In Rehabklok, the whole band seems to be doing great with the drum machine replacing Pickles. With time, though, the machine's attitude puts them off and they're glad to have Pickles back with them.

In Fatherklok, the only sort of positive reaction to Skwisgaar leaving seems to be coming from Toki, who dreams of finally being the lead guitarist. Murderface and Pickles are too wrapped in their own bullshit to notice anything. But Nathan? Nathan doesn't like the band without Skwisgaar. We don't have a single moment of him enjoying Skwisgaar's absence and clearly wants him back.

Now, like I said at the beginning of the post, I know all these episodes had different types of situations. Toki and Murderface were in a month-long suspension, not officially kicked out. Pickles' rehab did imply he was coming back at some point. Skwisgaar was the only one that actually left Mordhaus physically and Dethklok as whole...so it makes sense Nathan had a wildly different reaction to the latter compared to the other two.

However, I think it's still very telling, that not even once did Nathan consider that the band was better without Skwisgaar. In Dethsiduals and Rehabklok, you have Nathan actually satisfied at first with the new state of the band. But in Fatherklok, this never happens. Instead, Nathan very quickly grows annoyed with the remaining three and believes getting Skwisgaar back is the solution to fix Dethklok.

The last part, especifically. By the end of their respective episodes, Nathan did want Murderface (+ Toki) and Pickles to come back, but so did the other side, which made the reunion easier. Nathan didn't really have to do a lot to make them join again. In Fatherklok, however, Nathan and the rest of Dethklok physically go to Sweden to recruit Skwisgaar back, to which Skwisgaar sharply refuses. In his own, emotionally constipated way, Nathan then compliments Skwisgaar before walking away, calling him nothing short of exceptional and special.

Nathan doesn't want Skwisgaar back in the band because Skwisgaar's lack of skill and bad attitude improve their music somehow like Murderface. He doesn't want Skwisgaar back because Skwisgaar's not an arrogant sex machine like the drumming robot (ironically, Skwisgaar is very much this in all probability). He wants Skwisgaar because he just does. Because the band is not the same without him. Because Toki can't replace him as lead guitarist. Because their dynamic is falling apart without him around. Nathan wants Skwisgaar to return to the band because both musically and personally, he values him. Skwisgaar is a hard worker, and easy to get along with for him (Skwisgaar does reserve his arrogance towards Toki and Murderface after all). Skwisgaar doesn't make him mad like Murderface and Toki with their entitlement, Skwisgaar isn't irresponsible like Pickles can be with his habits. In Nathan's eyes, Skwisgaar is essentially a good presence in the band that doesn't pose him problems, and it's exactly why he's the member Nathan can easily recognize as key.

And thus, it is no surprise to anyone that these two stick together in Nathan's next project after the band breaks up. Of course, the project seems more like a tantrum than anything else but it's still worth noting that they agreed to stay together for it.

While Murderface, Toki and Pickles embarked in projects unrelated to music, Nathan and Skwisgaar stuck with music exactly. What's even more interesting is that Nathan's trying to get away from Dethklok's sound, yet wants Skwisgaar, an elemental part of Dethklok, to be part of this new idea.

Surprise! This was a Nategaar post all along. >:)

No, but jokes aside, I think of their relationship a lot. The subtle compatibility. Unlike Pickles and Nathan's friendship where they're close enough to go at each other's neck and make up later, Skwisgaar and Nathan's is much more quiet, but it's latent. Because they're both awkward but hard-working and highly perfectionist people, it's more evident when it comes to music.

In addition, Skwisgaar is essentially the one member Nathan has never truly gotten mad at. We've seen him constantly be irritated by Murderface, have serious issues with Pickles and even have a fight with Toki in Skwisklok (S1E10). With Skwisgaar, however, it seems like their relationship is much easier. They understand each other both on a professional and friendship level.

They might not be each other's most intense or even most important relationship, but it's the kind of relationship where you know the other person will always have your back. The type that's both easy and comforting. I love them.