#I can't believe this game was on the survey

[blushroom20]

Blu's Misadventures on Discord

Brought to you by: this Atlus survey that is available until the 16th

E EM DEE TOO!?!?! As one of the few people who actually liked Etrian Mystery Dungeon seeing this game referenced really caught me off guard...

oh and Persona 5 X was there too

[egophiliac]

LEON

LEON YOUR EYEBALLS

[awearywritersworld]

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[makkir0ll]

setting the past (part one/ prologue)

ukai x reader.

wc: 837

synopsis: you coach a volleyball team, one of the best in the country known for having mostly recruited players. you take pride in the fact that you have led your team to win a national championship title. And with the news of the rising team karasuno, your interest is piqued, mainly because that was your old school. you had known that they were nicknamed the "fallen crows" and such, so hearing about their fast improvement you decide you want to see it for yourself. you call up the school and takeda picks up. you organize a practice match for later that week.

but what you don't realize is that their coach is your highschool ex.

a/n: woohoo finally finished part one of idk how many. i haven't written since my wattpad days and i have so many good ideas for this fic so i hope y'all enjoy this. i just need to like collect my thoughts and put them in order because thinking about the plot my brain goes like 100 mph but then when i actually have to write it, suddenly im illiterate.

anyways enjoy this!!

masterlist

Once practice concluded, and the clatter of equipment being stowed away subsided, the Karasuno boys formed a line in front of Ukai and Takeda, anticipating any last-minute announcements before dispersing.

".. and make sure you're eating well and getting enough rest. That's all I have to say for today," Ukai stated firmly, his arms crossed as he surveyed the team.

Takeda cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the eager players. "Yes, indeed. I know this is short notice, but the coach from Kozue Highschool reached out for a practice match later this week, and I accepted."

"HUH?" The boys chorused in a mix of surprise and excitement. A practice match against the reigning national champions was unexpected, to say the least.

"Didn't they win nationals last year?" Daichi questioned, his brows furrowing with intrigue.

"Did they? I'm not sure but you know more than I do." Takeda replies with a smile. "But apparently, their coach is an alumna of Karasuno," He glances at Ukai. "Y/N, I believe? Do you know her? She might be from the same graduating class as you"

Ukai's reaction to your name didn't escape notice. He knew exactly who you were—the pride of Japan's under-19 women's team and, to add a twist, his high school sweetheart.

"Yeah, I know her," Ukai replied, turning to the players. "That means this won't be an easy match. Not only because Kozue is a national champion, but also because Y/N is coaching them. She was- is one of the best womens volleyball player. So think expect nothing less from her team. Be prepared to face some formidable opponents."

"WOW! A NATIONAL CHAMPION TEAM! I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY WITH THEM!" Hinata exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "I won't lose to them!"

"Yeah, me neither," Ukai thought to himself, his expression unreadable.

After practice, as the Karasuno third years made their way home, Suga couldn't help but bring up the tension surrounding Ukai and you.

"So, Y/N is definitely Coach's ex, right?" Suga prodded, casting a knowing glance at his companions.

"Oh, absolutely," they agreed. They continued to discuss the possibilities as they walked home.

Ah, the history between you and Ukai. It was a tale of high school romance, filled with shared lunches, mutual support at games, and stolen moments in the clubroom. But graduation day shattered those dreams, as Ukai chose to explore college life, leaving you heartbroken and struggling to move on.

But some wounds never truly heal. Ukai remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, the memory of him etched into your heart as your first love, your first heartbreak.

Little did you know the storm brewing ahead as you prepared for the practice match against your alma mater, Karasuno Highschool.

The bus ride back to Miyagi was quiet, your team fast asleep behind you. As the bus slowed to a halt, you felt a surge of excitement—the familiarity of your hometown, the anticipation of facing your old school.

Karasuno High. The memories flooded back as you recognized the school's facade. Your stomach churned with excitement and nerves as you led your team off the bus.

"...twelve, thirteen, fourteen, yep! That's everyone," you counted, gently tapping your players as they stumbled out of the bus, still half-asleep.

"Why are we playing at a school two hours away again?" Haru, your team captain, yawned.

"Because, one, I used to go here back in the day, and two, I heard they're really good now. I'm excited to see what they look like. It'll be good practice," you explained, walking into the school towards the old gym where you spent multiple late nights after practice. you hear the familiar sound of volleyballs hitting the ground grow louder the more you walk toward the ajar door.

But what you didn't anticipate was a volleyball hurtling towards your face. Instinctively, you raised your arms, but it never struck you. A familiar figure stood beside you, his presence startling.

Ukai Keishin.

You were at a loss for words. It couldn't be him. Yet, there he was, saving you from a potential injury.

"Hinata, you can't be receiving like that!" Ukai's voice cut through the air, snapping you back to reality. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your tone sharp, eyes narrowed.

"What does it look like, Y/N?" he retorted with a teasing smirk. "Same reason you're here, I suppose."

You couldn't believe your luck—running into your high school ex at a crucial moment. Hoping to avoid any further interaction, you turned away and made your way to your team.

"Thank you for having us here," you bowed to the Karasuno team, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. As you started stretching with your team, your mind raced, your gaze occasionally drifting to Ukai. Your usual composure faltered, and your team couldn't help but notice.

This practice was shaping up to be far more challenging than you had hoped.

[audliminal]

It's Just a game, Right? Pt 7

Masterpost

It's just a game, right?

Tim turns his head at the soft their of a grappling hook, and a moment later Steph has joined him on the roof of the building.

"Not much happening tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," Tim responds as he watches traffic pass on the street below. She is right; the night so far has been unusually calm. It's a distinct contrast to last week- it seemed like every night some big villain was pulling out some ridiculous plan or other, but somehow they had all been stopped without serious harm. Of course, there are still plenty of rogues still scurrying around Gotham but there's no murmurs of anything coming from any of the big hitters for the moment.

"You don't sound very sure about that," Steph says, stepping up beside Tim and elbowing him lightly.

"Yeah," Tim answers. A flashy silver car cuts someone off and the resultant horn echoes harshly.

"Okay, you're being weird. What's up?"

Tim shrugs.

"Guess I'm just used to emergencies," Tim shrugs. He knows Steph wouldn't be weird about him bringing up Bernard, but he really doesn't need any of his fellow bats thinking he's compromised or overstressed. God knows he doesn't need anyone else pestering him about getting enough sleep, like he's staying up on purpose.

"Okay..." Steph trails off. "I mean I guess it has been pretty hectic for a while. Takes a bit of time to come down from all that?"

Tim is saved from having to respond by the sound of Oracle cutting into comms.

"Red Robin, Spoiler, looks like a store robbery in progress and you're the closest. Head for the intersection of 25th and Oak."

"Got it," Tim answers and doesn't wait for Steph's response, already halfway through the motion of taking off for the next building.

Pretty soon they're both dropping in on a pair of goons. One of them is aiming their gun directly at a frazzled-looking employee, who doesn't seem interested in putting up a fight.

Two-on-two makes it an incredibly easy fight though, and it's almost over before it begins, with both of them able to sneak up on the distracted thugs as the cashier hurriedly pulls money out of the cash register. Once they're both in position, it's easy enough to grapple, disarm, and restrain them in a flurry of movement, and the criminals never get a chance to even process the arrival of the bats.

"Not today, I think," Steph says as she handcuffs her guy. "Threatening people with guns is a real dick move, y'know?" Tim gets his guy handcuffed and turns to the startled employee.

"Cops on the way yet?" He gets a frantic nod, and Tim surveys the shop as he waits for the sirens. They'll bounce just before the cops get here, but until then, he wants to look around for any signs of something bigger. The two would-be thieves seem too shocked and terrified at the appearance of bats to be proper goons, but they could still be bait, or a distraction of some kind. And the shop itself could theoretically have been targeted. But by the time the sirens are closing in outside, he's not spotted signs of anything sinister.

"Right, the police are almost here, so we're gonna bounce!" Steph announces as Tim walks back towards her. "Tell your boss I said he should give you hazard pay for the night, 'kay?" and then she bounces out the same way they came in. Tim nods once at the employee and then follows.

He changes directions once he's on the rooftops again, though. His phone had buzzed about six times in a row while they were waiting, and that means it's probably Bernard. And he really doesn't want to explain the arg thing to anyone yet.

Once he's far enough away from anyone, he pulls his phone out, and sure enough, he's got six text messages from Bernard.

Dude

Babe, holy shit

Like seriously

This is fucking crazy

Like I cannot believe they replied to us

Us!!!

Attached to the series of texts is a screenshot, and Tim feels the anxiety coalesce into something abruptly solid in his chest.

At first glance, he can't tell what language it's supposed to be. It looks like it might be Romantic in origin, but a couple spellings look almost Slavic in nature, and there's only two and a half lines, which really isn't much to go off of.

It's certainly an interesting development, to say the least. He should be excited. This is a new clue for the mystery, after all.

No way! Tim sends back.

Yeah! U busy? Comes the immediate response. And like, technically the answer is yes, Tim supposed. But Steph literally just pointed out how calm things are tonight, and he can already tell he won't be able to focus, with this news.

"Um," Tim clicks on his comm. "I think I'm gonna call it for tonight."

"Something wrong?" Bruce asks immediately, all gruff-batman-voice.

"No, just- it's slow tonight, and Bernard wants my help with something so I thought, um. If you want me to finish my patrol, I can." He can't help it. Even now, he always kind of feels like he isn't doing enough to be a good vigilante.

"Nah, kid. I think we'll be fine without you." Hood answers, unsurprisingly.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah go make out with your boyfriend or whatever."

Tim smiles at Hood's usual ribbing. He's almost gotten used to it; mostly he can keep himself from blushing too violently when anyone teases him about Bernard.

"Okay. I'll make sure to get my report submitted by eight, promise." Tim is already en route to the nearest safehouse where he can change out of the suit, when he remembers he hasn't responded to Bernard yet.

Heading home rn. My place or yours? He hits send and then takes off once more. Excited to see his boyfriend, and determined to work through the newest puzzle.

[red-hot-kick]

Theory: Ryuji was popular, before.

I'm not entirely sure if anyone has really talked about this but I maintain my interpretation that, in the canon of Persona 5, Ryuji used to be very (or at least moderately) popular prior to the events of the story.

This is something I've gotten into before when talking to friends who like the game and the character, but I haven't really considered writing it down until now. The main argument I have is based on three things:

Things Ryuji alluded to in canon (but no one believed him on)

The deliberate choice of making him a track athlete

Typecasting for voice actors

1: "There were girls all over me!"

I don't really have the time to go on a deep dive through all the instances in which he hints at his reputation before the Kamoshida incident, but I think the most clear-cut representation of this was during the scene where he and Ann spend the day with Futaba during her post-palace social rehabilitation:

So here's the thing...I don't think he's lying about this. Nobody in the room would be that impressed to find out whether Ryuji was popular since they are already friends (or in Mona's case, he really just doesn't care), so it wouldn't make sense for him to lie.

Regarding everyone's reactions though, here's my impression: Ann was simply not aware of what was going on with the track team, being predominantly focused on dealing with rumors, her friendship with Shiho, and her modeling career (and eventually Kamoshida's advances once he started doing that shit) and she mentions a few times that she and Ryuji weren't actually close before joining the PT; they were just in the same class in middle school. Futaba hasn't interacted with anyone her age in years and isn't the most reliable source when it comes to what people generally find attractive; just because she doesn't have any interest in Ryuji doesn't mean that nobody her age would. And Morgana is a cat that brags constantly about how cool he is, so he shouldn't be throwing rocks.

There are many other times in the game when you get little glimpses of his social savvy, and from my understanding of Royal (I'm an OG vanilla P5 player and haven't done 3rd-semester yet, so don't kill me) when the track team returns to "how it was", he is getting along extremely well with everyone. Not only was he the team's ace: this kid was also expected to become the captain by his senior year (as briefly mentioned when he bumps into his former senpai at the gym, iirc). That's huge! If his team held him in such high regard, then the general student body of Shujin surely had a similar opinion. This brings me to my next point:

2: Girls like boys that run fast(???)

This is honestly something that baffles me. It's also really difficult for me to substantiate; any source material on this is obviously in Japanese and if I could find any of it, I sure as hell can't read it. The only English-language source I know of I cannot find anymore; I think it was an old Tofugu article? However. If you've watched any romance anime set in a high school during the last 20 years, you might have seen this trope at some point: the school sports festival is happening, and the relay race is kind of a huge deal (it's the final event! a make-or-break moment for the class!). The boy thinks to himself "If I win this race, I'll be able to win her heart/ask her out/etc." Low-stakes drama ensues. Maybe a confession happens.

This is (from what I've been told) based on a long-standing trend of girls and women self-reporting in surveys about how, oftentimes, their crushes in junior or senior high school were simply "the boy who ran the fastest in the races". I have no idea what this means in a broader cultural context. It makes no goddamn sense to me at all. Do not cite me on this. But I think it's worth keeping in mind, even if it's almost entirely speculative (and possibly outdated) information. And even if it's just based on rumors, don't you think it's pretty in-character for Ryuji to go for a track scholarship—despite being adept at other sports like baseball and football/soccer, as mentioned in P5 and P5D—because he was aware of the potential of being more popular with girls? Of course, his priority would be getting the scholarship and paying his way through school to lighten his mother's burden, but hey, getting a girlfriend on the way up wouldn't be half bad!

I think this could also inform us as to why Kamoshida (as a predator who wanted attention from high school girls) felt so threatened by the track team in particular, and why he felt a need to specifically knock Ryuji down a peg and sought out a weakness to do so (as opposed to targeting any of the probably just-as-popular boys on the many other athletic teams and clubs in the school). Just some food for thought on this one! Also, if anyone can find a source or has any insight on the relay race thing, please share. I am so confused about it.

3: Typecasting

So this is something that you really only notice if you are very into keeping up with seiyuu in Japan. I am not one of those people. But I do have some favorite voice actors! One of these being Mamoru Miyano.

So I freakin' love this dude. He's voiced a lot of my favorite characters, sings incredibly well, and has an unreal sense of comedy. He's stated in interviews that his acting inspiration is Jim Carrey, and let me tell you: it shows. He is also quite consistently typecast into certain roles, predominantly as princely pretty-boy types, Coolguys, or complete fucking nutcases. Sometimes all three at the same time (shoutout to my boy Ling FMA!)

ATLUS definitely cast him for P5 because of his comedic chops. But I think they also cast him because having him voice someone like Ryuji is a great way to subvert expectations for the player. I think it's supposed to give you whiplash—"what do you mean the voice of LIGHT FUCKING YAGAMI is coming out of this guy's mouth?" "why does the delinquent character sound like king of the host club Tamaki Suou?" "isn't that Rin Matsuoka's voice?" etc. etc. etc.

(here's a quick list, just to really get the idea across. maybe you recognize a few.)

This is obviously a non-comprehensive list, but something that a lot of the characters he's voiced over the years have in common is that they were considered cool, handsome, or popular. Not just for fans, but within the canon of their stories! So...what does that mean? What does that say about how we should see Ryuji?

I think players are supposed to expect that he will fall into one of those categories too, and then be surprised to find that it's not the case—that he's been isolated and made bitter and resigned by what happened to him the year before.

Speaking of his tone, I think it's very telling that Ryuji actually forgets to keep up the delinquent act a lot in the original JP audio, which unfortunately doesn't really carry over in the ENG translation. The delivery of his JP lines sounds a bit more subdued in comparison too—yeah he's got a lot of energy and is very hotheaded, but when he gets to talking about serious shit, he sounds a lot more regretful and melancholy as opposed to the EN delivery which depicts him as more resentful and outwardly angry. I think before Shit Went Down, he probably had the Coolguy vibe. Still a bit of a rowdy idiot and a showoff, but I think he probably came across to most people as a very friendly, sincere, and popular guy.

So yeah, the girls probably were all over him, at least for a short while.

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 1/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Major Bucky Egan is on leave in London, and what else is there to do than to drink, sing, have a good time, and... of course, ladies. But then he meets Liz, a Lady of the Court, and Bucky is immediately entangled in her net.

Warnings: Language, teasing, use of alcohol - soldiers being soldiers

A/N: Okay, wow... I thought today: "Uh, I have an idea for a OneShot with Bucky Egan," and now I'm sitting here with a three-part story. Jeeeeeez... Uh, but what you gonna do. (I've only seen the first two Episodes of MotA as of now, but... I just love Callum)

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere

(Sorry mates, you just have to be tagged ;))

The Ritz, London, 1943

The opulent bar of the Ritz in London, brimming with the raucous laughter and chatter of soldiers on leave. The air is thick with smoke, jazz music fills the background, and the atmosphere is charged with the night's excitement.

Major John "Bucky" Egan, surrounded by a rowdy group of fellow American soldiers, is the life of the party. His laughter is loudest, his stories the most captivating, and his gaze roams freely, appreciative of the scenery—particularly the women who add a touch of glamour to the smoky room.

Bucky, with a glass of whiskey in hand, leans back, surveying the room with a smug grin. "Gentlemen," he boasts, "London's no match for a Yank with charm. Watch and learn."

His eyes, however, catch a sight that stops him mid-sentence—a vision of elegance seated across the bar. Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, unbeknownst to him, sits alone, her posture the epitome of grace, a long, slender cigarette holder elegantly poised in her hand. The soft glow of the bar lights catches her blonde hair and the sparkle in her blue eyes, making her seem almost ethereal.

Bucky's usual confidence wavers for a moment, his friends noticing the sudden change. "Well, I'll be damned... Who's that?" Bucky mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

One of the British soldiers, a man who has seen his fair share of high society, leans over, a knowing look in his eyes. "That, Yank, is Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. The Duke of Wellington's daughter. I'd tread carefully if I were you. She's out of your league."

Bucky's grin returns, cockier than before. "Out of my league? Buddy, there's no league I can't play in. Watch me."

With a swagger in his step, Bucky makes his way over to Elizabeth, his comrades watching eagerly, some with admiration, others with skepticism, and some with knowing faces.

"Evening, miss. Can I say you light up this room brighter than the London Blitz," he says cockily, letting his charm play.

Elizabeth doesn't even glance up from her drink at first, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. When she finally turns her gaze towards him, it's with an air of amusement. "And can I say that's the most American pickup line I've ever heard?"

Bucky, undeterred, flashes a grin. "Major John Egan, at your service. But for you... You can call me Bucky. And you are?"

Elizabeth finally offers him a small, knowing smile. "Elizabeth Cavendish. And I'm quite aware of who you are, Major Egan. Your reputation precedes you."

Bucky, leaning against the bar closer to Liz, his confidence seemingly unshaken. "Is that so? And what have you heard?"

Liz, taking another slow drag from her cigarette, eyes Bucky with a mixture of interest and challenge. "Oh, just that you're quite the charmer. A real ladies' man. Or so you believe."

The air between them crackles with a mix of tension and intrigue. Bucky, for once, finds himself having to work to maintain his usual smug demeanor. "And what about you, Lady Elizabeth? Do you enjoy games?"

Liz's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, Major, I don't just enjoy them. I excel at them. Care to play?"

The challenge hangs in the air, a silent dare that Bucky, despite the warnings and his better judgment, finds himself unable to resist. "You're on. Let the games begin."

As Bucky signals the bartender for another round of drinks, his fellow soldiers exchange glances, some shaking their heads, others betting amongst themselves on the outcome. What none of them realize is that in the game of seduction and wit, Liz is a master strategist, and Bucky might have just met his match.

Bucky leans closer, his confidence unwavering. "So, Liz, you don't mind me calling you Liz, right?" he starts, the smug smile never leaving his face, "I've flown some of the most dangerous missions over Germany, you know. But I must say, navigating this conversation with you feels like my most thrilling challenge yet."

Liz lets out a soft, amused laugh. "Major Egan, I've met many men who believe their war stories could sweep a girl off her feet. And maybe it actually does some. But it's going to take more than tales of aerial feats to impress me," she replies, her voice laced with a teasing sarcasm that only someone of her breeding and wit could perfect.

The night progresses, and with each drink, Bucky becomes more audacious, his hand finding its way to the small of Liz's back, a bold move that, in any other circumstance, would have guaranteed success. Liz, however, is not any woman he's encountered before. She plays along, leaning in as if captivated by his charm, her lips tantalizingly close to his, only to pull away at the last moment, leaving him wanting more.

Their conversation ebbs and flows, with Bucky regaling her with his exploits, each tale more daring than the last. Yet, Liz remains unimpressed, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement rather than awe. It's a dance they're both familiar with, but in this instance, Liz leads, her every move calculated to keep him on his toes.

As the night wears on, Liz finishes her drink, placing the glass delicately on the bar. She rises from her stool, the movement graceful and deliberate. "Well, Major, it has been... interesting," she says, her tone implying a myriad of things left unsaid.

Bucky, taken aback by her sudden desire to leave, scrambles to his feet. "Wait, Liz, why don't you stay for another drink? The night is still young, and I feel we've barely scratched the surface."

Liz turns to him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I'm afraid I have other engagements to attend to, Major. But I must thank you for the entertainment," she teases, her gaze piercing through him with a challenge that silently says she's not one to be easily conquered.

As she walks away, Bucky watches, a mix of frustration and fascination written across his face. For the first time, he's encountered a woman who not only matches his wit but exceeds it, leaving him in uncharted territory. Liz, with her aristocratic poise and undeniable charm, has turned the tables on him, making it clear that if he wishes to pursue her, he's in for a game unlike any he's played before.

Returning to his comrades, Bucky's expression is a mix of irritation and resolve, a stark contrast to the confident swagger he had before approaching Liz. The British soldiers, having observed the entire exchange, can't help but wear smirks of "told you so" on their faces.

"Well, Major, looks like the ice queen has claimed another victim," one of the Brits comments, clapping Bucky on the shoulder with a laugh that's both sympathetic and mocking.

Bucky, undeterred, shoots back, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Another British soldier chimes in, swirling his drink, "Mate, many have tried to climb that mountain. From viscounts to earls, not a single one has reached the summit. Lady Cavendish is... well, she's a fortress."

"Yeah, heard she loves to make sport of men, seeing who can try and fail the most spectacularly," adds a third, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and warning.

One of Bucky's American friends, attempting to find a solution, suggests, "Did you pull the pilot card? Chicks love pilots." The suggestion hangs in the air until another British soldier, who had been quietly listening, interjects, "Her brother's Captain Edward Cavendish, Royal Air Force war hero. Your pilot card might as well be a library card."

The revelation doesn't dampen Bucky's spirits; if anything, it fuels his determination. His jaw sets firmly, the challenge now more personal than ever. "So, she's used to high-flyers, huh? Well, she hasn't met anyone like me. I'm not just any pilot; I'm Major Bucky Egan. And I don't give up that easily."

The group looks at him, a mix of skepticism and intrigue in their eyes. They know Bucky for his tenacity, his charm, and his unwillingness to back down from a challenge. But Lady Elizabeth Cavendish is not just any challenge—she's a high-stakes game that many have lost.

As the night winds down and the group disperses, Bucky's mind races with plans. He knows winning over someone like Lady Cavendish won't be easy, but he's always loved a challenge. The thought of her, with her piercing blue eyes and that untouchable aura, only makes him more determined. He's ready to prove that he's not like the others, that he's someone who stands out, even in a crowd of heroes.

The stage is set for a captivating game of wit, charm, and strategy. Bucky's resolve and Liz's cunning promise a tale of intrigue, where each move could either draw them closer or push them further apart.

In the soft morning light filtering through the hotel's dining room windows, Bucky and his fellow soldiers are halfway through their breakfast, the air filled with the light-hearted banter typical of men who've faced much together. The sudden approach of a concierge, bearing the unmistakable posture of formal importance, silences the table. With a discreet cough to announce his presence, the concierge presents a silver platter to Bucky.

Bucky, eyebrows raised in surprise, picks up the envelope resting on the platter. The envelope itself is a work of art, the calligraphy on the front flawlessly executed, hinting at the significance of its contents. His name, "Major John Egan, US Air Force," is inscribed with elegant flourishes that speak of a bygone era of meticulous attention to detail.

As he carefully opens the envelope, the anticipation among his comrades is palpable. They watch as Bucky's initial confusion shifts to an understanding smile, a silent acknowledgment of the ongoing saga that had captivated them since last night. He pulls out the invitation, and it reads:

Major John Egan,

It is with great pleasure that Arthur Cavendish, Duke of Wellington, and Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Wellington, extend to you an invitation to a gala being held at our family estate, Wellington House, on the evening of this day.

This event will assemble distinguished individuals from various sectors of British and Allied societies in a celebration of unity and resilience in these challenging times.

Date: This evening at 7 o'clock post meridiem

Dress Code: Formal (Black Tie)

Location: Wellington House, Kent

We anticipate the honor of your presence and look forward to an evening of meaningful exchanges and spirited fellowship.

Kindly present this invitation at the entrance.

Sincerely, The Duke of Wellington

Bucky's grin now spread wide across his face, confirms the unspoken thoughts of his table. "Looks like I've got plans this evening," he announces, his voice a mix of amusement and intrigue.

The soldiers around him, well aware of the story behind the invitation, erupt into a mix of cheers and playful jeers. Bucky's encounter with Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, a tale that had quickly become legendary among them, was evidently far from over. This invitation was not just a call to a social event; it was the next chapter in a story that promised to be as unpredictable as it was entertaining.

As the concierge departs, Bucky's mind races with possibilities. The gala at Wellington House was not just an opportunity to step into the world of British aristocracy; it was a chance to see Liz again, to engage in their game of wits and charm. With a sense of adventure stirring in his heart, he knew one thing for sure: the evening promised to be unforgettable.

House Wellington, Kent, 1943

As Bucky steps into the grandeur of the Wellington estate, the opulence of the gala immediately envelops him. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes mingling with the faint aroma of quality tobacco. The chatter of the high society fills the room, a mixture of refined British accents and the occasional foreign dialect. Bucky, in his crisply pressed formal uniform, stands out—not just for his attire but also for the aura of confidence he carries with him, an unmistakable mark of a man not easily intimidated.

He navigates through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, his eyes scanning the room until they find what they've been searching for: Liz. She's a vision in her gown, embodying the grace and elegance of her status, yet with a glimmer in her eye that hints at her spirited nature. As he approaches, he can't help but admire the way she holds herself, the center of attention yet seemingly uninterested in the adoration she commands.

"Seems like I can't go anywhere without you showing up to steal the spotlight," Bucky teases, offering her a playful smirk as he closes the distance between them.

Liz turns to face him fully, her expression one of amused defiance. "Oh, Major Egan, I was under the impression that an officer of your caliber would know how to read a simple dress code," she retorts, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she gives him a once-over. "But I suppose we can't all have the luxury of choice in our evening attire, can we?"

Bucky chuckles, unphased by her jab. "Well, Lady Cavendish, it seems I'm at a disadvantage here. While you dazzle the room in that stunning dress, I'm stuck in this old thing," he says, gesturing to his uniform with a mock sigh. "But let's be honest, we both know I could show up in a burlap sack, and you'd still find it hard to keep your eyes off me."

The air between them crackles with the tension of their banter, a dance they've both come to enjoy. Liz takes a slow drag from her cigarette, held elegantly in a long holder. "Confident, aren't we? Just don't let that confidence get you into trouble, Major. This isn't the front line, and the battles here are fought differently," she says, blowing out a stream of smoke, her gaze locked with his.

"Then consider me armed and dangerous," Bucky replies with a grin, his eyes never leaving hers. "But I'll admit, this is one battlefield I'm looking forward to navigating, especially if it means crossing swords with you, Lady Cavendish."

Their exchange, filled with the playful yet pointed jabs of two individuals equally matched in intellect and charm, sets the tone for the evening. Around them, the gala continues in its whirl of music, laughter, and conversation, but for Bucky and Liz, the rest of the world fades into the background. They are each other's focal point, engaged in a game where the stakes are undefined but unmistakably high, each moment building on the tension and attraction that simmers just below the surface.

As Bucky and Liz continue their verbal dance, the arrival of a British Captain momentarily shifts the atmosphere. The Captain's demeanor is one of polite curiosity mixed with the protective scrutiny of a brother. When he inquires about Bucky, there's a brief tension, a moment where the social games of the evening meet the reality of wartime alliances and personal connections.

Bucky, with the straightforwardness that military life has ingrained in him, extends a hand. "Major John Egan, US Air Force," he introduces himself with a respectful nod, recognizing the familial resemblance in the Captain's features.

Edward's expression warms slightly at the mention of Bucky's service. "Ah, a fellow pilot then. And where might you be stationed, Major Egan?" he asks, a hint of camaraderie entering his voice upon learning of their shared skies.

"With the 100th Bomber Group," Bucky responds, his answer earning a nod of respect from Edward. The reputation of Bucky's outfit precedes him, known even among the British ranks for their bravery and contributions to the war effort.

The conversation takes a turn when Edward's attention shifts towards his sister, curiosity piqued. "And how did you two come to meet?" he inquires, his gaze bouncing between Liz and Bucky, searching for a glimpse into his sister's enigmatic social life.

Bucky opens his mouth to answer, perhaps a little too eagerly, ready to dive into the tale of their first encounter. However, Liz, ever the master of her own narrative, interjects with a grace that belies the quick thinking behind her words. "We met at a charity event just last week," she states, her voice carrying a tone of casual innocence. "Major Egan was kind enough to share some fascinating insights into his experiences in the war so far. It's not every day we have the honor of hearing such stories firsthand."

Edward's expression softens, a mix of brotherly concern and pride evident in his gaze as he looks at Liz. It's clear he's unaware of the full extent of his sister's adventurous spirit and her propensity for finding herself in the company of intriguing characters. "Well, I'm glad to hear our allies are not just brave but also charitable. It's important, especially in times like these, to remember what we're fighting for," he comments, directing a respectful nod towards Bucky.

The moment passes, and Edward excuses himself to greet other guests, leaving Bucky and Liz alone once again. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Liz, impressed by her quick thinking and ability to weave a story that protects her reputation while not entirely dismissing their actual encounter. "A charity event, huh? You're quite the storyteller, Lady Cavendish," he teases, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Liz, taking a delicate sip of her champagne, meets his gaze with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "One must always be prepared to tell the story that needs to be heard, Major Egan. Besides, I couldn't possibly let you ruin all my fun with the truth, now could I?" she replies, her tone playful yet laced with the underlying thrill of their shared secret.

Their exchange, now even more charged with the thrill of their clandestine understanding, continues to weave a complex tapestry of attraction and intrigue, each moment adding to the layers of their unfolding story.

Next Part

[minty-mumbles]

Linked Universe Survey 2023

The long awaited results of the survey. Sorry it took me forever, making graphs is hard.

There were 452 responses to the survey as a whole, which is almost double what we got last year, so thank you to everyone who participated!

If you want to see the raw data, you can find that here. I had thoughts about the data, but compiling that into another post would be too much of a hassle. Feel free to send me asks about it though!

The rest of the post will be under a read more as it it large

Demographics

Other: Demigirl (4), Transmasc (3), Grey genderfluid, Unlabeled, Demiboy, Demiagender

Other: Omnisexual (4), Poly (2), Trixic, Abroromantic or Bellusromantic, Demisexual

General Questions

Other: Quotev, Discord, their own google docs

Other: Discord, Variations of "I haven't posted yet, but I pan to" and "I haven't posted my fics in ages",

Other: Wattpad, Deviantart, Discord

Other: Crochet dolls, Custom dolls, Roleplay blogs (2), Fan translations, Headcanons (2), Piano music

The purple section in the “Warriors vs Warrior” chart is supposed to read “Warrior.” I made a typo.

Favorites and Least Favorites

Selected Free Response Answers

im sorry warriors i just can't play your game (it is very very hard. i am stuck very early on in the game)

I love cats meow meow meow

was extremely tempted to put twilight for least favorite. unfortunately he is my favorite to write from the perspective of (he has taken over most of my wips. help) and that probably counts for something. WILD on the other hand. hooo boy how the hell do i characterize this gargoyle. why is he Like That. least favorite it is

Twiddy

very good fandom to be in :) everybody is very nice

It's a straight up crime that Wars lost the aesthetics poll so quickly. He has such a peak Link design with the best colors. Ugh I'm getting wistful.

FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS.

I will fight Hylia herself and the next person who implies Twi can't handle spice. If we're going to lean into him being southern/Midwestern, which is an alright stero type for our rancher, please keep in mind the culture you're basing him off. The south and midwest can handle their spice, I assure you. Have you ever had authentic Louisiana gumbo? It will melt you tongue off. Or some good old fashion spicy fried chicken? I promise the real stuff has quite a kick. (In all seriousness, though. It's more important that you're having fun. And even I can admit the idea of Twi being an Ordonian who can't handle his spice is more than a little funny.)

I am an OoT Link edgelord and have been since early 2017. So, in September of that year, when an artist by the name of jojo56830 puts out a lineup of nine different Links and the Hero of Time is there – the oldest, no eye, Hero’s Shade armor? I saw that one sketch and just thought “oh this is gonna be bad.” Yeah of course he has the coolest design. By the way, it’s only a matter of time until Fierce Deity shows up in the comic and I have reason to believe it could be this current Dawn arc. Dawn … Dawn of a New Day … and who brought about the Dawn of a New Day? Fierce Deity. Twilight is recovering but still injured and what will happen if he falls again? Fierce Deity is coming and we need to be prepared. In this essay I will—

Remember that time when someone put the whole script of the bee movie in here? I’m not that dedicated, and I don’t have that time, but let us remember and hope someone else does it again this time. Cause someone is bound too. We’re all crazy enough to do it. Alright, love you and stay hydrated pls!

Hi! I joined this fandom really recent but i’ve always seen LU stuff on pinterest and elsewhere. Only recently have i actually took the time to understand the fandom and get back into LOZ stuff and i adore the characters and story! The more and more fanart, fanfics, and comics i see about the different Links the more i love them all. It’s such a pain to pick just one i like or one i don’t like because they’re all so unique. I love this fandom and hope to get more involved!! Have a wonderful rest of your day :]

Epona is an underrated queen

your mom

I really don't get why Zelda is called Artemis. Athena makes more sense???? It perplexes me

Anyone seeing this should check out Breanna’s E!Wild AU

Something something queer every Link into oblivion!

[magicxc]

Holidays

Pairings: Survey Corps - their fave holidays

Word Count: 871

Warnings: none

A/N: I considered Japanese holidays for this bit but then laziness got the best of me. Like most pieces I create with these characters a lot of how I envision them will relate to western/modern culture in some way or another. Though they probably won't celebrate half of the holidays I'm about to list, I want to reiterate that this is my idea of the traits these characters possess and also they are not real. 

Headcannons Masterlist

Eren  - Christmas

Eren is big on family, especially the family he’s made with Armin and Mikasa. It’s clear that he stands ten toes down behind them and when he gets his own family, it’ll be much the same. I actually think having kids will bring out the fluff in Eren and he’ll be that obnoxious holiday parent that's doing the most with decorations and presents. But it's honestly the atmosphere that gets him going. The holiday cheer, the kindness, the emphasis on giving - he loves it all. 

Levi - New Years

The new year signals a new beginning but also the close to another chapter. Each time Levi makes it to a new year he’s thankful but mostly shocked. From life underground to humanity's biggest threat, he never knows when disaster might strike. But, when the clock strikes 12 it's a moment of relief, one where he can sit back and relish in the thought that he’s made it to another trip around the sun. 

Erwin - Fathers Day

Lmaoo I'm not tryna make Erwin sound egotistical at all, but I was also running out of popular holidays. The day the Scouts headed to their mission to plug wall Maria was the first time we saw them get a standing ovation and it was also the first time we saw Erwin express such vocal excitement. Even though he can come off a bit aloof, I thought it was fun to see him in that way. That being said I think he’d enjoy being celebrated and can even play up the wowwwws at the macaroni necklaces and handprint construction papers lol. He would love and take care of his family obvi but it’d also make him feel good to feel that admiration in return. 

Connie - Thanksgiving 

You feed this man and he’ll love you forever. It’s his favorite holiday because it has back to back benefits. There's tons of food, a four day weekend off from work, and the opportunity to spend time with his family. He’s the type to pitch in money but over the years Connie has been more inclined to learn how to cook and has even started bringing in a dish. He’s most excited to try a Friendsgiving as he considers them family as well. 

Jean - Valentines Day

I firmly believe that Jean is a romantic. I don't think he’d be the most creative at gift giving lol but it’s certainly the thought that counts. On valentines day he goes all out - teddy bears, flowers, chocolates, etc. ya know, the usual. Although his gifts are very on the nose and sometimes he needs to be spoon fed the information, what he lacks in creativity, he'll gain in experience; learning to step his game up as the years go by. Again, sweet guy. 

Onyankopon - Easter

He more so likes the spring break aspect of it. With the flowers blooming and the sun making regular appearances, it was usually the first sign to what summer would be like. Ony enjoys traveling, meeting new people, and experiencing different cultures. So although spring break was meant to party, which he did, Ony always made the time to immerse himself in the customs of whichever country he visited. Now as an adult, he still indulged in his version of spring break as he always enjoyed the mini relaxation that it brought about; thinking of it as his summer outside of summer. 

Reiner - Independence Day

Reiner is over the whole patriotic thing, however he can't help but enjoy the events that take place because of it. There’s literally a bbq happening on every corner so he’s for sure house hopping for a plate. There's all sorts of sales and Gabi is making him put that wallet to USE hunnie. And while he doesn’t mind, he more so enjoys their time spent together. There's also the beautiful fireworks that light up the evening sky. And at the end of the day he gets to spend his remaining time with family, gathered around over good food and even better vibes. 

Armin - Mothers Day

Armin is def the type to dote on his wife. Hard day at work? He’s rubbing the stress out of your shoulders. Hungry? He’s cooking and prepping lunch for the week. Overwhelmed at work? He’s booking you a spa day. Armin literally adores his woman and enjoys any chance he has to celebrate her and Mothers Day is no exception. Expect him and the kiddies to hand make you some arts and crafts, cook you breakfast, and plan the holiday around your desired interests; with him making sure, at the end of the day, to show you why you celebrate the holiday in the first place. 

Floch - Halloween

He’s big on the spooky vibe but not to a concerning extent. Like many others he just enjoys the activities surrounding it. This is actually where Floch flourishes in creativity and fun. He’s making spooky themed treats, decorating to upstage the next door neighbor, and enjoying all the movie classics. Let's not even get started on the lengths he’ll go through to make the most life-like costumes and the parties where he shows it all off?? Top mf notch! Bonus points for getting some action at said parties.

[dumbkatsu]

Hello!

I was wondering if I could request poly hualian and Shi Qingxuan x male!ghost!reader headcanons? Like the reader is super flirty and talkative but is also childish and affectionate?

Please and thank you :))

Ah of course!! This prompt sounds fun! Let me see...

Let's start right of the bat with you qingxuan being the chaotic duo and Xie lian and hua cheng are the ones with the leash () to tame you guys down.

Like when you two are drunk something will always catch on fire inevitably.

Paradise manor has been such a victim of your high jinks

Another of your favorite activities is to make your lovers blushhh :D

They are just adorable to see all fumbling for words cheeks rosy red so cuutee.

You don't want to be biased here but Hua cheng blushing and being embarrassed is by far the most adorable blessing to your eyes.

He's just so collected and calm that you make it your goal to get him to blush.

You try the best pick-up lines you got. You bring your A-game. But nothing works.

Until one day when he is getting ready to go to the gambler's den and he's wearing something different.

He usually goes for red but today he decided to wear a black robe with grey undertones and silver details.

He looked so regal and breathtaking you just had to

"Wow. You look...beautiful."

This threw him completely off his game. All he could do was look down and cover his already reddening face with his sleeve trying to salvage his last ounce of composure as he muttered a "thanks" behind his sleeve.

On another topic when the cold winter arrives it is mandatory for you all to be together under a biiiigggg blanket you and qingxuan made. all bundled up and cozy.

Yes, you and hua cheng don't really need to sleep but you indulge yourselves by just closing your eyes and relaxing in this comforting moment.

You help xie lian in the kitchen bcs god forbid qingxuan and xie lian in the kitchen alone together. it's recipe for disaster.

while you and hua cheng are basically masterchefs keeping your malewives well fed.

when you are making the dough for bao you spank the dough while looking straight at Xie lian's eyes and see him blushing uncontrollably and turning away,not being able to look at you.

Your day-to-day lives really consist of sqx and xl doing their daily activities like going to work on construction or go to the heavenly capital on occasion to deal with some businesses.

you and hua cheng on the other hand survey your own dominions. But you stay more at puqi shrine than him since you have more freedom with your territory.

Hua cheng is the one who is out the most. but it's never too long.

One of the greatest pleasures you experience is waking up after a steamy night (especially during the mount tonglu period) and just gazing at your lovers faces. Tucking a strand of qingxuan's hair behind his ear, caressing xie lians soft thighs, peppering hua cheng's face with kisses.

Sometimes you get into a contemplation daze where you just can't believe how you got to feel so much love. The world has never been kind to you, letting you experience some of the worst experiences of your past life but somehow you found your place and managed to receive an amount of love you thought you'd never deserve.

A cold hand reaching your face and wiping a tear you didn't realize you shed gently called out to you

"Darling you're staring again."

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 1: The Club Encounter

(Racing hearts : VOLUME 1)

The bass thumped in the darkened club, vibrating through the walls and into the very core of the crowd. Lights flashed in an array of colors, dancing across faces as laughter and shouts blended into a symphony of nightlife. Charles Leclerc leaned against the bar, a half-empty glass of whiskey in hand, trying to drown out the chaos surrounding him.

Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—another successful race weekend, another step toward the championship. But as he surveyed the room, a knot of tension twisted in his stomach. His friends were engrossed in animated conversations, but Charles couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him.

Then he saw him. Mark Spencer stood in the center of the dance floor, an island of energy amidst a sea of bodies. Tall and confident, he was surrounded by a throng of admirers—both men and women—who seemed magnetically drawn to him. His laughter rang clear above the music, carefree and intoxicating, contrasting sharply with Charles's own brooding demeanor. A wave of resentment surged through Charles. This was the guy who had taken his best friend's seat at Ferrari, the one who'd swooped in and replaced Carlos Sainz mid-season. The thought twisted in his gut, and he took a deep swig of his drink, trying to suppress the feelings that roiled inside him. "Hey, you good?" one of his friends nudged him, pulling Charles back to the present."Yeah, just fine," he muttered, eyes fixed on Mark. The sight of him—dancing, laughing, living his best life—only served to fuel Charles's annoyance. How could he be so comfortable, so at ease, when he was stepping into a role filled by someone who meant so much to Charles? As if sensing Charles's gaze, Mark turned his head. His bright smile faltered for a moment as their eyes locked, but then he raised his glass in a mock toast, clearly unfazed. Charles's heart raced—not from excitement, but from a mix of anger and confusion. How could he feel this way about someone he barely knew? "Come on, let's go say hi!" his friend urged, tugging at his arm."No way. I'm not in the mood," Charles replied, his voice sharper than intended. He knew he sounded petty, but he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. He had always been supportive of his teammates, but Mark's presence felt like an intrusion. "Suit yourself. But he seems like a blast!" his friend shrugged, heading off toward the crowd.Charles watched them mingle, a tightness in his chest growing as laughter erupted from Mark's direction. He was effortlessly charming, a natural at the center of attention, and it infuriated Charles. Moments turned into minutes, and Charles's grip on his glass tightened as the party continued around him. With each laugh from Mark, he felt a mix of jealousy and irritation. He'd always prided himself on his competitive spirit, but this was different. This felt personal.Before he knew it, Charles set his glass down, deciding he needed to clear his head. He pushed away from the bar, navigating through the throng of bodies, each pulse of the music driving him closer to Mark. As he got closer, he could hear snippets of conversation—Mark was talking about racing, the crowd hanging onto every word. "Honestly, I can't believe I'm here. Ferrari is a dream, but it feels so surreal," Mark said, laughter spilling from his lips. "I'm just a replacement, right? One day, I'll be gone, and you all will have to find someone else." The words struck Charles like a punch to the gut. Mark was joking, but there was a truth in his tone, a reminder of the precariousness of their situation. Charles felt anger flare up inside him. How could he treat this as a game? "Enjoy it while you can, huh?" Charles interjected, stepping into the circle with an edge to his voice.

Mark turned, surprise flickering across his face before it transformed into a smile. "Oh, look who it is! Charles Leclerc, the man himself. Here to join the party?" "Hardly," Charles replied, crossing his arms. "Just thought someone should remind you that you're not here to have fun. You're here to drive." Mark raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "And what's wrong with having a good time? I'm still a person, you know. It's not all racing and contracts." Charles felt his irritation boiling over. "You're not just a person; you're a replacement. You're taking a seat that belongs to someone else." Mark's smile faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "I get it. But I didn't ask for this. I'm just trying to make the most of an opportunity. Maybe you should try it sometime."Their banter drew the attention of those around them, and Charles could feel the tension thickening in the air. He had always been good at deflecting, but something about Mark's demeanor got under his skin.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to make the most of it with someone who's just waiting to leave," Charles shot back, the words sharper than he intended.

"Look, I'm not the villain here. I'm just trying to do my job. If you'd let go of the hostility, maybe we could actually be teammates," Mark replied, frustration creeping into his voice.

Charles clenched his jaw, recognizing the truth in Mark's words but refusing to let it show. "Teammates? Right. We'll see how long that lasts." With that, Charles turned on his heel, storming away from the group. He could feel Mark's eyes on him, the laughter and chatter fading into the background. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter as he found himself outside, leaning against the cool stone of the club's entrance, trying to catch his breath. He knew he should have been happy for Mark—any driver would kill for a chance like this—but all he felt was an insatiable need to protect what he had. As the night wore on, Charles realized that the conflict between them was only just beginning.--- And thats it for chapter one. Just so you know this is going to be a long story and of course more than one volume. But don't worry this story is super fun and I'm sure you will enjoy reading this.  Also sorry again that i had to use AI cuz i suck in English (not my first language). But the whole story is by me.

[ohbo-ohno]

Congrats on 1k followers!! Your fics are amazing 🫶🏻 Can I request old Victorian mansion and seance with Johnny x reader?

1k game here

tysm for reading my stuff!!! the victorian mansion isn't exactly present here, but it's the end goal!

2.2k of Soap x Reader with an old Victorian manor & a seance (ft. scam artist reader and asshole ghost johnny. no smut!)

Your newest clients are odd. That's all you can think as you show up on their property, surveying what they claim is haunted.

Usually your clients live in just slightly run-down homes - old enough to have setting bones (or "strange sounds in the night"), some odd air circulation (cold spots), and usually on at least a bit of an incline (uneven flooring that leads to "things falling off shelves at random"). A house just old-enough to cause seemingly impossible things, but not so old that the people moving in already knew what to expect.

But this house... well, it's a bit of a different story this time. Mainly because it's not a house. It's an old RV that, quite frankly, you wouldn't even bother to try and turn on.

The couple who's hired you - Mr. and Mrs. Stewart - had told you over the phone that they planned to take the old RV on a cross-country roadtrip. Seeing it in real life, you're not sure how they ever thought that would happen even before the supposed haunting.

"Oh, fantastic!" Mrs. Stewart, whose first name you can't recall no matter how much you try, rushes up to you and away from her husband. She's middle aged - you'd guess older than forty but not quite fifty - with brown hair and gray streaks, a pair of round-rimmed glasses making her eyes look bigger than they are and a tie dye caftan. "You must be the medium, Ms...?"

You give your name with a small, hopefully non-threatening smile. Poor Mrs. Stewart looks fit to jump out of her skin at any moment, her hands twitching as she lifts them to shake your outstretched hand. She cups yours in both of hers, leaning closely to you.

"Yes, yes of course. We're so happy you agreed to a consultation! Honestly, we've just been terrified, I can't even sleep at night these days, what will all the flashing and the noise and..."

You tune her out a bit as she shakes your hand endlessly, letting your eyes run over her shoulder to her husband and your project of the night.

Mr. Stewart is at least a decade older than his missus, if not more. He's fighting a losing battle with his hairline, leaving him with one of the most insane receding hairlines you've ever seen - the man nearly has a mohawk. His khaki shorts reach his knees despite being belted nearly around the ribs, and a faded polo shirt is tucked into them.

"...and my husband doesn't believe me, you know. No, he acts like I'm insane! Hah! Can you believe that?"

When the endless rambling goes quiet for a beat, you tune back in. Years of zoning out during long winded stories from your mother have given you the great gift of hearing just enough of a speech to respond.

"Well, not all of us are true believers," you say with what you hope is a slightly wise tone. You're still not great at playing the character you've constructed, but you're getting better. At least, you're getting paid more.

Mr. Stewart lets out a loud bark of laughter, then descends into a fit of coughs. Mrs. Stewart quickly moves to his side, patting his back and ignoring the way he waves her off.

"True..." he coughs again. "True believers my ass. Honey, I told you this would be a scam! Look at her - you think a medium shows up to her clients in jeans?"

You fight a blush at that. You knew you should've changed - people are never as doubtful when you wear floor-length skirts, something about pants apparently makes people think you can't see ghosts.

Not the most unfair assumption. You can't see ghosts. But not because of your pants, because they aren't real.

But that's not what you're selling to this couple. So you duck your head a little, try to keep your smile soft. "I'm sorry my informality, Mr. Stewart, but I came as soon as I got your wife's call. This situation sounded... well, I'd hate to use the word dire, but..."

Mrs. Stewart gasps dramatically, right on cue. "Dire! Oh, Lewis, did you hear that? Oh, I told you something was wrong with this damn vehicle!"

"Honey, she's just trying to-"

You cut him off quickly. "I'm here to do whatever needs to be done." You wince at the terrible line, but hurry on. "If there's a lingering spirit here, I'll be more than happy to help them move on. If there's not, no harm to you."

"Harm to my wallet," Mr. Stewart grumbles, scowl only deepening when his wife whacks him on the arm.

"We'll pay whatever we need to to have a safe vehicle," Mrs. Stewart says, her tone very pointed. "Please, we just want to be able to start our trip. We've been looking forward to it for years now!"

"I understand," you nod sagely. "I do prefer to perform my initial inspections alone, so would you mind...?"

Mr. Stewart looks positively indignant, even as his wife begins to drag him away. "We are not leaving this girl alone with our property, Cheryl! She'll rob us blind!"

"Oh, Lewis, you've got to stop seeing the worst in people! You give us a call when you're ready for us to come back, alright?" She steps quickly back over to you, dropping a keyring in your palm. "Here. The damn thing doesn't start, but the doors still work properly."

You nod at Mrs. Stewart and give her as comforting a smile you can as she and her husband make their way over to the bus stop you'd stepped off at, leaving you alone in a dark and frankly creepy parking lot. You're not sure why they chose such a shady part of town to keep their property in, but as long as no one's around you're not going to complain.

It takes a bit of effort to yank the door open, the metal a bit warped, but you manage it without too much trouble and shut it securely behind you as you finally step into the vehicle.

It's.... kind of a dump.

You're glad you brought a flashlight, flicking it on and scanning over all the contents of the RV. You can see dust particles floating through the air and there are cobwebs in every piece of furniture that has a corner, each surface covered in a thick layer of dust.

You can't help but wonder how long it's been since anyone's even bothered to try and turn this thing on, and scowl a little to yourself. If it's been that long since someone was here, there's a good chance it's devoid of anything of value for you to nick.

You scoff and let your flashlight drop, making your way to the driver's seat and flopping into it with a sigh. If you can get the engine to start thig might not have been a total waste of time.

It takes a couple tries for you to even get the key in the ignition, and a couple more turns for the engine to do more than sputter loudly, but the old beast eventually rumbles to life, the lights on the dashboard and above your head brightening the car.

"Than God," you huff. It might be a bit of a pain to steal this hunk of junk, but if you can manage it... well, it would be nice to not have to shell out money for motels every couple of nights. "Full tank of gas," you hum to yourself, frowning a bit at the little gauge. For some reason that strikes you as odd.

"Where you takin' us?"

You scream at the sudden voice behind you, jumping nearly a foot out of the chair as you whirl around.

There's a man standing in the middle of the RV. Tall and young, with broad shoulders and a dark brown mohawk.

And he's transparent. Well, at least partly transparent. The soft yellow glow of the cabin gives him an odd coloration, and you can... oh God, you can see the door to the back through him.

You can't speak. You're left standing there, gaping a bit like a fish, and staring with wide-eyes.

"Well, lass?" He asks, smirk growing on his half-there lips. He takes a few steps forward, hooks his arms around the passenger and driver's chairs and leans forward into your space.

You yelp as you jerk back, landing on the dash board and brandishing your flashlight as a weapon.

"Get the fuck away from me!" You shout, heart nearly beating out of your chest.

"Och," he tilts his head, adopts a fake-hurt expression. "But aren't you the medium? Thought your job was to make contact with ghosts. C'mon then, bonnie." His grin gets... almost salacious as he leans as close as he can to you, nearly brushing noses. "Make contact."

You can't believe it. Honest to God, you think you might've died. There's simply no way you're really seeing a ghost, and there's doubly no way that that ghost is flirting with you.

He seems disappointed by your lack of response, leaning back and letting his expression fall to a more neutral expression. "Not into it then?"

You shake your head as best you can.

He sighs dramatically, like you've done him a terrible inconvenience. "Alright then. Well, if you want to take this thing, you're only taking it to one place."

You still can't quite manage words. Even as he steps to the side, throwing himself into the passenger's seat and somehow not slipping through.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of a roadtrip with you," he goes on, heedless of your shaking and overall terror. "You're not a bad view. But this piece of shite is only going one place. If you don't want to go there, you can get out now."

It takes you a minute to work up the nerve to speak. "Wh...where?"

His eyes flick to you, and he grins again. "My home - nice old house on a hill, left to me by my granny. I was on my way there when the bawbags who own this car ran me down. Didn't even stop to make sure I was alright, can you believe that?"

You shake your head, a little numb as you slip into the driver's seat. You're unintentionally facing him, and he angles his body more towards you and laces his hands between his kness.

"You take me to my home, and I'll let you go. How's that sound?"

"You can't..." you lick dry lips, work a little more moisture into your mouth. "You can't drive yourself?"

He makes an angry noise, leans back against the window and crosses his arms. His legs - intangible as they might be - are long enough to rest on either side of your feet.

"Can't touch anything anymore." You'd almost call his expression pouty, if a ghost could be such a thing. "Can do anythin' else to this thing - turn it on, play music, make it hotter than hell, but can't drive the damn thing."

The lights flicker above you as his tone gets more angered, and you suck in a quick breath.

"Alright," you breathe, hoping maybe he'll calm down and not... what? Blow up the RV? What's the worst case scenario here. "I want to leave town, you want someone to drive you out of town. I can do that."

He eyes you, a little suspicious gleam in what look like they might've been blue eyes once. "You're taking this very well. You met other ghosts before?"

You can't help the laugh that bursts out of you, wiping a hand down your face. "No. No, as a matter of fact, I didn't think ghosts were a thing until about five minutes ago."

A little smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. "Well, rough day for you then, huh?"

You giggle a little hysterically. "You could say that again. Where's your house, anyway?"

You turn to face forward, moving the chair up so you can comfortable reach the wheel as he rights himself in his seat too.

"Oh, it's a stunning thing. Old Victorian building, up on a hill like in all the best movie. Gran always said her own pa built the place, but I'm not so sure myself. Figure if I'm stuck haunting anything, it might as well be that."

"Sounds pretty," you hum, pulling the car out of the parking lot. It's not easy to drive, but you try and keep the jerky starts and stops to a minimum.

"Oh, it is, lass. We MacTavish's have been up there for centuries now, if Gran's to be believed. Might even get to see her again, if this whole ghost thing works out."

"MacTavish?"

You see him grin as he leans forward, holding out a hand. "Johnny MacTavish, ghost extraordinaire, at your service. Long as you take me where I want to go, you and I will get along just fine."

You glance over at him as you pull up to a stop sign. You introduce yourself, reaching out to grasp his hand. It doesn't.... quite work. There's something there, certainly, but it sends shivers up your spine when you try to grab it, and you feel almost like you've been doused in ice water.

He pulls you a little closer by the odd not-quite grip, grin sharpening as he nearly brushes noses with you.

"You try and trick me, lass," he rumbles, lights flickering above you. "You might just find yourself trapped in here with me."

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @ealyblu

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Q&A with ealyblu

What is your favorite rare pair? My favorite rare pair is very subjective I feel, but I really like the idea of Inquisitor/Carver Hawke. Just an Inquisitor who, after the events of Trespasser, goes to Kirkwall to collect on Varric's offer of mansion and title. Carver's there either as a templar helping out the city guard, or as a grey warden skirting his duty after everything that happened. The two meet when Varric invites the Inquisitor to have drinks at the restored Hanged Man, sparks fly, etc, etc... The Inquisitor meets someone who's used to the action, knows how stories can get out of proportion and might actually see them for just the person they are and Carver meets somebody who knows their older sibling, has fought alongside them and still looked at Carver and went 'No actually I want him', which I'm sure does wonders for his ego. There can also be the added drama and angst if the Inquisitor left Hawke in the Fade, which is always fun.

How long have you been into DA? I have been into DA since late November/early December 2014. I had no clue DA even existed before a tumblr user I followed started sharing screenshots of their DAI playthrough. It was love at first sight and 10 years down the line, DA has seen me through high school and college, I played through so many wardens, Hawkes and Inquisitor, and now I can't believe that after a decade we're finally getting the next installment.What drew you to tackle a Big Bang? I've never participated in anything like this before, but seeing as it was DA and I had free time I wanted to give it a try and finally contribute to the fandom of a franchise that has meant so much to me for so long.

[strixcattus]

I'm supposed to be working on other things right now but I'm thinking about that question on the survey that asked about which ending you preferred/considered canon. And I'm about to say a lot of things that may or may not make sense or all be related to one another, and I'm not sure they'll come out in a parseable order, so I may or may not even end up putting this in the main tag. We'll have to see.

I chose the answer I consider best. Or, least bad. And not in a narrative sense—after the update, I like the scene of the "And? What Happens Next?" ending better than perhaps any other. But I chose the one that I believed led to the most favorable scenario after the end, which would be the loop ending. And I've got a post in my drafts, half-written, that explains in detail why I consider each ending to be a "bad ending" for the world or the characters or both in some form, which I had to put on a back-burner because I wanted to ensure I wasn't doing some sort of bad-faith reading on the Shifting Mound during my discussion of one ending, and even though with the benefit of distance I can see I generally wasn't I've never gotten back to it. To sum it all up, each ending requires you to trade away something the game's story makes you value (unless, I suppose, you come to hate the Princess and by extension the Shifting Mound, or the Shifting Mound and by extension the Princess, on a nonnegotiable level) in order to resolve the narrative, but the loop ending allows you to put it off ad infinitum. What you're sacrificing is the resolution itself. So you lose nothing, and gain nothing, and probably something really horrible happens to the world, but you don't have to think about that part.

But I consider the canon ending to be "There Are No Endings." Maybe it has something to do with it being the first ending I got. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I consider it the optimal outcome for the world—you sacrifice everyone who's unconditionally been on your side this entire time (Shifty doesn't quite count, since she wasn't present in the same way the Voices were) in order to maintain balance and surety. Maybe it just says something about what I value, and that unseen value says something about the endings.

Shifty's right. She doesn't get it right about what you, the player, feel and value (unless your values happen to align with hers—mine don't, but I know some people's must), but that's how people are. She says it—and normally I'd go sifting through the files or the game itself for when exactly she says it, but it's late and I have other things to do, so I'll just say she says it very early on—she says very early on that she cannot know your mind, because you are not her.

It's the same way as your final words to the Voices in the mirror. None of your options are poorly worded. If you expect the Voices to take the harsh truth gracefully, that's an honest mistake, because you can't know what's going on in their heads. Your options are to lie kindly, or tell them a truth that will make them hate you, because just as you can't see inside their heads, they cannot see inside yours, and they will assume you must have some other choice. You don't. But you don't get to articulate it. Lie or hurt them. Those are your only options.

But aside from that Shifty is right. I've seen people ask—and this was early in my entrance to the fandom, and I don't know how much discussion went around about it because I wasn't in the circle, so to speak, even less than I am right now, but I've seen people ask if Shifty could have killed us.

That's not the question to be asking. Of course she could have killed us. She can do anything we believe her to be able to, and if we believe her able to kill us, she can. She always could have killed us.

But she never would have, because she knows. She knows something as a god that you cannot know until you choose to raise yourself to her level—she knows that a universe without either one of you may not be a universe worth living in. She knows that she needs her counterweight. She may not value people on the same level you might, but she does not want them to suffer—she specifically wants them not to suffer, or at least not to suffer in a way she could have prevented. She is a detached god, not a cruel one.

She's right. She's forceful, but she's right, and she can't understand why you would rather be a person than a god, because she has never been anything but a god, and her Vessels are as much a part of her as your Voices are a part of you, but while you lived alongside your Voices as a person before cannibalizing them, she only welcomed her Vessels back upon their absorption. She does not know firsthand what it is to be a person, but she is right about everything else.

(I have to wonder if she is less cruel to her Vessels than you are to your Voices. Hers maintain their form throughout.)

And now this has me thinking—what if the Voices are you? Not in the way in which they're obviously you. I mean that you live your life, you make your decisions, and then you die. And then there is a new one of you. But the new one is not the Voice that has appeared in your head. The new Voice is the old one, fully realized into his own person with a personality you can no longer mold, just as the Vessels are not their own persons until you make the choices that make them into real people. The new entity is you, unmolded, without any personality save what you, the person who does not exist in this world, pour into it.

[lucysarah-c]

Frankly, I've always found it strange, myself included, why Levi never mentions Isabel and Farlan. For example we don't even see them in the flashbacks where he remembers his comrades. But if I had to think of the most logical reason I could think of, it's more likely that it's because they're not characters of Yams own creation. No Regrets is a script that Yams commissioned someone else to write for the Levi background, a spinoff that was not written by Isayama himself, and the characters there are not Yams characters, except for Levi and Yams characters.

In one of the interviews I read about No regrets, I read that Isayama wanted this story to be written/drawn because he wanted a spinoff that was more about how Levi joined Survey corps. That's exactly what it is, if I remember what was written correctly. Maybe you've seen it too. My point is this, Perhaps the reason Isayama never mentions Farlan and Isabel in his own story is because they are not his characters, but also because both Farlan and Isabel and No Regrets itself, are more of background tools on how Levi joined Sc.

Hi! How are you?

Yeah, I think that's a very possible and logical answer. I would 100% believe that would be the reason if other characters were mentioned more frequently. I would be like, "Why does Levi constantly talk or think in this or that character and not Farlan and Isabel?" But overall, I still kinda stick to my idea that we hardly even see any other "remarkable" characters as "flashbacks" from the veterans, and we never hear even Levi mention them. Not just Levi; almost all the characters do not mention other characters overall.

I dare to say that's mostly an "economical" situation. Probably Isayama wasn't allowed to have any extra scenes or do "fill up" chapters to showcase other characters talking about their lives, their thoughts, etc. Like, as an example, I can't recall a single chapter in the manga or anime where Erwin talks about Mike, for example, and it's well-known that they were very close. Hange is the same. I hardly think that Levi or anyone actually actively thinks or mentions other characters in the story unless it's an "emotional or plot-wise" moment, like recalling fallen comrades, like Marco, etc.

I think that was mostly my point of view on the issue. Levi doesn't think about Farlan or Isabel, but because Levi or any other SNK character thinks or mentions other characters beside strict plot-wise necessity, and it's obvious that Farlan and Isabel aren't "plot-wise" necessities. I personally think that most of the "relationships" between characters can be "assumed" by how they interact in "spin-offs" like chibis and "junior high." I think they serve a bit to fill up that void with also the "game's extras stories etc."

Which, and this is already me rambling, I had always found it strange that it's showcased in official art, chibis, junior high, etc., that the veterans were rather close, but during the Uprising Arc, Levi mentions Kenny to Hange and they knew absolutely nothing about him. I think it would have been a nice touch, not only for Hange but for any "veteran," if Levi decided to be "100% honest" about his childhood, like telling being raised by Kenny, they could act like, "You mentioned before a bit about it but I never imagined you were talking about Kenny the ripper." A sort of "oh, you told us a bit about your past but never in detail and now that's plot-wise important, we get the details, we understand it a bit more because we are close to you than the rest but that 'extra information' isn't important enough for the reader to be aware of it but my knowledge about it showcases my closeness to you" sort of thing? I don't know if that makes sense; that's what I mean that for me Isayama lacks a bit in the writing relationship departments because those little details are so subtle but mean so much.

Anyways, the good thing is that we can fill that void with fanfics!

[ask--eggman]

📩 Dr. Eggman Ask blog 🥚

Attention all!

It is I, Dr. Eggman, the greatest scientific genius and the brilliant, smart and handsome soon to be ruler of this world!

I know you all must be trembling with either excitement or fear, as you should be! An expected and understandable reaction to being undeservingly graced by my glorious presence. Especially because with this blog, you can finally be lucky enough to interact with me and ask me questions!

Ignore any rumors of this all being "propaganda" for the Eggman Empire. You don't need to be convinced to join. It's a no brainer, it doesn't take a genius mind like mine to know that you and the world will be much better under my rule! I simply state facts here. I promise.

Important things to know:

Blog is for adults 18+ only!

I'll treat you like the underlings you are, to teach you of your place beneath me in the future of my empire early. Some say that's rude. The nerve! They're simply the traits a real powerful and confident ruler should have! But of course I'm the only one cut out for it, so I shouldn't expect anyone to understand.

I'll be open about the glorious evil I get up to with my immaculate calculated schemes! Unless you ask for top secret information to use against me and try to stop me... You can't outsmart me, I can tell! And you will fail miserably!

Anyone with a distaste for my methods and hobbies - ignore anything evil you might've seen here. Pay no attention to any mentions of schemes and violence, only believe the posts about how totally brilliant, helpful and beneficial my rule and empire are.

You can expect violence of varying degrees. I'm sure you all know by now that I'm not above crushing my enemies and reveling in their defeat! What? They totally deserve it!

NSFT allowed. I know everyone wishes they could have a chance with me and must be very eager to hear all about it. ;)

All this to say that this blog is not suitable for small children - or big babies.

Feel free to fill out a brief survey after your visit. Your opinions matter to us! Unless you didn't have fun, then we don't care.

More extra notes from a silly little lackey of mine who serves as this blog's moderator below:

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Games canon source Eggman, every game mainline to spin off, no exclusions. There's a possibility for occasional divergence due to slight inspiration from other official media but with a clear heavy game focus.

He will be canon accurate and nasty, rude, arrogant, condescending, a big jerk and unpleasant reactions and behaviors will be portrayed in an often comedic way. Keep in mind, it doesn't reflect the feelings or beliefs of the author - no hard feelings!

There's a chance not all questions will be answered. It's okay to resend once or twice just in case it wasn't sent. But just because it might take a while to get a response, doesn't always mean we didn't get it or you're not getting one.

I'm an adult and open to NSFT and fet!sh asks, very lax and don't judge. Will be tagged to the best of my ability. Eggman may do a combination of teasing and entertaining, or just be oblivious towards why you're asking, depends. Just be 18+. No minors at all!

Feel free to ask to tag.