#the first one works for a lot of things including how he was the go-to to vent to)

[gffa]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Do you take rec requests? If so, can I ask for your recs for Obi Wan centric fics where Obi Wan is just absolutely adored by everyone around him? Like people love him, think he's great, beautiful, talented, etc. you could also include fics where Anakin isn't one of his adoring fans but he comes around eventually. If you've ever read the Shoulder The Sky series by @kcrabb88 ? Where Anakin is kind of weird about Obi Wan in the beginning but he'd die for him at the end? Yeah like that.

Preferably no Obitine please, and also no order 66, if you would. They can be fix its or maybe they just don't get to order 66 in canon. Long and short is fine. I just want to read fic to justify my absolute rabidity over Obi Wan Kenobi.

Yknow if you're going to answer the ask? Might as well include every fic that you know that portrays Obi Wan very well. Whether everyone thinks so or not, I just want an excuse to fangirl over Obi Wan. Whether it's cute adorable initiate obi wan; smart skilled Padawan Kenobi, best master in the galaxy Kenobi, best general in the gar Kenobi, unfuckwithable Kenobi that everyone knows not to piss off, the Jedi's best member, whatever. Just fics of obi wan being great, whether people acknowledge it and love him, or acknowledge it and go still like prey animals when he looks at them

Hi! Oh, this is going to be a bit of a difficult set, mostly because avoiding Order 66 is a tough one, and I'm not sure how you are with various Obi-Wan pairings (which tend to have some good Obi-Wan fic), but I can at least start you out with a few recs sets I've done that have a lot of Obi-Wan fic and hopefully the Order 66 fic will be pretty avoidable.

My Star Wars fic recs tag (pretty much anything that mentions Obi-Wan in the subject will treat him well)

Obi-Wan Kenobi epic fic

Post-OBW's first two episodes-centric set

It's hard because some of my favorites:

Reprise by Elfpen (absolutely epic time travel fic that does the really good, hard work of showing us the timeline shifting and why it has to be done in baby steps)

Fire and Ice by Yesac (set in an AU where Order 66 happened, but Anakin won the fight and took both Obi-Wan and Padme hostage, and it's about the incredibly long road to recovery from there, which does have some love = attachment minor, minor notes, but has an Obi-Wan characterization that was fundamental to how I see the character)

Aren't necessarily about Order 66, but it does happen in both those fics, as something that's either being avoided or fixing the aftermath of them, and I'm not sure where you stand on such things, since you don't want Order 66. Same for

The Desert Storm by Blue_Sunshine (time travel AU where Order 66 happened in Ben's timeline, but not in the one the fic is set during)

Knightrise by deviantaccumulation (this one includes Order 66 happening on-screen, but it's an AU where more Jedi survive and they go into hiding together to rebuild)

where it's time travel to fix things, is that still over your line? Is it about the other characters that love Obi-Wan or the narrative of the story that loves Obi-Wan, because that would change a lot of the recs I make! Not that he's unloved in them, but Cataclasm by dendral is one of my favorites, but it has Obi-Wan off on his own a lot of the time, so the narrative loves him, but the people around him aren't in the room with him, etc. I also have a Jedi culture set of recs, which you can scroll through to find Obi-Wan mentioned in the summary, it's probably going to be about how much everyone loves him. But some good places to start for you would be:

ruth baulding's Lineage series and then her Legacy series. The first series is an epic length run of adventures when Obi-Wan was a padawan with Qui-Gon, and then the second series is his time teaching Anakin, with more adventures

Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, a fantastic look at Jedi theology, philosophy, and interaction, with Obi-Wan in a prominent role.

Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi stonefreeak, which is crack treated seriously, very Jedi-positive, and while it's an ensemble piece overall, Obi-Wan is very much at the heart of the story and the focus will always come back to him. Just so much fun and very soft on the heart, this is a universe where everything goes right.

Tano and Kenobi by FireflyFish, which is a time travel fic where Ahsoka goes back into the past and becomes Padawan Obi-Wan's Master instead of Qui-Gon. The fic is kind of harsh on Qui-Gon, but if you love the disaster lineage or if you just want more Obi-Wan & Ahsoka, this fic will scratch the itch so good.

Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) Rhiw, another time travel fic where Order 66 did happen, but the fic is about Legends!Obi-Wan taking a different path from what happened in the first Jedi Apprentice book, instead of becoming Qui-Gon's Padawan the way he did in canon, he and Bruck go to Bandomeer and then get wrapped up in an epic story about Obi-Wan slowly changing the galaxy's course.

walk by faith/tell no one what you've seen by Killbothtwins, which is time travel with Obi-Wan after the end of the galactic civil war (the one against the Empire) going back to his 12 year old self and diverting the timeline, with a really great voice for Obi-Wan's character in this fic.

The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye) is a fun young Padawan Obi-Wan fic where he meets Qui-Gon's first apprentice and has a great sense of comedy.

Uncle Ben and Little Luke by phoenixyfriend which is de-aged!Luke and suddenly alive again!Obi-Wan and is just so much fun for a dynamic that doesn't get enough fic. (NEVER ENOUGH.)

Well Met by avocadomoon is one if you don't mind Obi-Wan/Padme fic, where they develop a friendship and later in life just slowly fall into a relationship, where it's about discussions and politics and philosophy and worldbuilding, it's such a subtle dynamic between them in a way that felt so natural to me. I also enjoyed the author's other fic Anamorphosis just as much, too.

[lousycapy]

How statistics can easily be manipulated to fit a certain agenda in Formula 1

Hello! I’ve seen a lot of f1 fans or media sources bring up statistics incorrectly to prove their points recently, which is really getting on my nerves. So here is a comprehensive guide, with examples, of how statistics work and why they are not the be-all and end-all some people might think them to be. This is a pretty long post, so the explanations are all below the cut. With that, I hope you find this useful!

Multiple factors come into play when analyzing a statistic, so I’ve separated them in different categories: what data set is used to make the stat, how the stat can be interpreted and how being factually correct doesn’t equate a valid argument :

THE DATA SET

To make a statistic, you first need values which correspond to a data set. What said data set is made of is very relevant to the exactitude of the stat and how much regard should be given to it.

For example, to determine the average lap times of a driver over a stint you would need to divide the sum of all lap times by the number of laps executed. Which means that theoretically you could use a single lap as an average, e.g. 1:57:325/1 which gives an average lap time of 1:57:325s.

However, as you might imagine this stat is not representative of a driver’s stint, since the lap chosen to be analyzed could very well be an outlier. That’s why sample sizes matter, the more values make up your data set, the more representative of reality the result obtained is.

It is also important to know what the data set consists of. Let’s reuse our average lap times of a driver over a stint example, are outlaps/inlaps included? Is it based on clean air, dirty air? Are there laps excluded due to driver mistakes (e.g. going off track)? A stat being presented without any explanation of how it was calculated is absolutely worthless.

Finally, comprehension of the data set is very valuable as well.

Let’s imagine this fictional scenario where Ferrari makes Charles and Carlos compare average lap times. They both use the same car, on the same track, on the same tires, at the same time, for a stint of a total of 10 laps. Both drivers average a lap time of 80.125s over their whole stint, so is the conclusion that they have both done the exact same thing accurate? No!

Despite having the same average lap times in this scenario, the data set suggests a different conclusion, and different trends. Considering stints in a race are going to be longer than 10 laps, it can be assumed that Charles would average better lap times thanks to his consistency compared to Carlos, who would get worse lap times as time passes as can be observed thanks to the trend line in his graph.

2. INTERPRETATION OF THE DATA

Now that we can recognize the importance of the data set and its constituents, it is time to understand how the data provided can be used to make a statistic.

More than one answer can be correct based on the same sample of data. Despite using the same set, depending on how the data is used it can lead to different statistics that drive different arguments both being factually correct.

For example, I’d like to refer to the wonderful basspro24chevy World’s Destructor Chamionship from Brazil 24 on Reddit in an effort of determining who is the most destructive driver. Here is a chart I’ve made which also includes number of races each driver took part in (Ollie not included I was too lazy to recalculate how it affects the drivers he’s replaced’s damage bill) and the average cost of damage per race of each driver.

Based on these statistics, both arguments could be made to justify either Checo being the most destructive driver, since he’s the one who’s cost his team the most damage over the whole season, or Franco, since he’s the one who on average costs the most for his team per weekend.

Depending on someone’s biases, they could make some drivers look better than others despite using the same data set as another person, and depending on how their argument is justified even if they end up with a different conclusion it doesn’t mean they aren’t right as well.

3. FACTUALLY CORRECT ≠ VALID ARGUMENT

Even if you are factually correct with your statistic’s interpretation, and it is based on an acceptable data set, it doesn’t mean it has a direct link of causality with your argument and provides validation to the point you are trying to make.

For example, someone could argue that Checo is a safer pair of hands in races than Pierre, because over the course of the 2024 season he has DNFed 2 out of 21 races, meanwhile Pierre has DNFed 3 out of 21 races. However, the point being argued here is which driver is a safer pair of hands, and other variables than the drivers come into play when discussing those two’s DNFs.

Indeed, Checo drives a RedBull with a Honda engine, whilst Pierre drives an Alpine with a Renault engine. Out of Checo’s 2 DNFs, 2 were caused by driver mistakes. Out of Pierre’s 3 DNFs, 3 were caused by engine issues. The World’s Destructor Championship can also be used as a counterpoint to Checo being a safer pair of hands than Pierre by comparing damage bills.

Thus, instead of the conclusion being that Checo is a safer pair of hands than Pierre, the DNFs statistic is more appropriate to conclude that the Honda engine is more reliable than the Renault engine.

Which means that to make a valid argument, you need to be able to explain why the statistic presented is relevant and what it suggests. Alleviating circonstances also need to be taken into account to solidify the point being made.

For example, let’s imagine a scenario where Fernando is 1.235s off Lance during a qualifying run. To use this stat in an argument, you need to be able to justify why he was so far off. Was it genuine pace? Did he make a mistake which ruined the lap? Were they on the same tires? Was it track evolution? Are they on the same setup? Did Fernando come across traffic? Did Lance get a significant tow?

Contextualization matters twice as much as the actual statistic being presented, because the statistic without context can easily be manipulated in a way to drive a certain agenda.

4. CONCLUSION

All in all, what I’m trying to say is that even maths can be used to drive agendas. Statistics can not be taken at face value, because there are multiple factors that can influence their relevance. I hope you found this little guide helpful, and that it will help you analyze better the information you see online on how drivers are performing (or argue better with crazed fans, you do you 🫡)

Thanks for reading and have a good day!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Luck Be a Lady Tonight

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: During a weekend off with your team, you run into one of the FBI's most wanted criminals. With a little luck and Deacon on your arm, you catch the criminal in a trap that places him exactly where you need him.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, depiction of gambling/casino setting, canon-typical danger and violence

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“You look ridiculous,” you say, leaning against the wall in the hotel hallway.

“This is classic,” Street argues.

“Classic rat pack, maybe,” Tan interjects. “Heavy on the rat.”

“Alright,” Hondo says, pushing off the wall. “Street, change, or we’re going now. We aren’t going to get another weekend like this for a while.”

“He makes it sound like a bad thing,” you whisper to Deacon.

“You could’ve turned down the invitation,” he says, smiling.

“And listen to Hondo’s attempt at making me feel guilty after? That is a terrible weekend.”

Hondo calls your name, then Deacon’s, and waves for you to join the rest of your team in the elevator.

“Think I can win big at the nickel slots?” you ask.

“About as likely as Street getting any female attention in that outfit,” Tan mutters as the doors close.

Sitting at a table on the small balcony overlooking the casino, you scan the large room and locate four of your five teammates. Chris had plans with her family this weekend, so you’re the solo woman on the tip. You don’t mind; you enjoy spending time with the rest of your team, but the decision to spend the long weekend off in Palm Springs at a casino spa wasn’t your first choice.

You raise your glass, then freeze before it reaches your lips. There’s a man playing roulette who looks incredibly familiar. Lowering your glass, you watch him, observing his body language and how he speaks to the dealer. You can’t place him, so you lift your phone, putting your elbow on the table to remain inconspicuous, then take a picture of the man when he turns to order a drink. You upload the photo to the limited-access LAPD site, which returns as flagged. Only one line is legible in the scanned file, but it increases your heart rate.

“Miguel Calvo,” you whisper. Your chair slides backward as you stand, and a warm hand hovers beside your waist.

“You alright?” Deacon asks, looking at you intently.

“See the guy at the roulette table? Red jacket?” you inquire softly. Deacon nods, and you say, “That’s Miguel Calvo.”

“From the FBI’s most wanted list?”

Nodding softly, you relax as Deacon’s hand finishes the journey to your waist. He looks at you rather than watching the criminal or looking for the rest of your team. You have feelings for Deacon, not understanding how or why they started, but you feel complete beside him. You haven’t exactly hidden your admiration of him, and, on many occasions, he’s shown you he feels the same, but you haven’t crossed that line. And it looks like your relaxing weekend just turned into a chase, so you won’t get a chance to inch closer to that line.

“I have an idea,” Deacon says. “We’re out of our jurisdiction, but since he’s got a federal warrant, we should be able to make it work.”

“Tell me how I can help,” you offer, drawing Deacon’s attention back to you.

“Are you open to going undercover on our own?”

“Anything. Where do we start?”

“Well… we’re going to need a little luck.”

Your cheeks begin to hurt after the first few minutes of smiling. Between the new outfit Deacon procured for you and the flirtatious looks you’ve been sending Miguel since your return, you feel like you’re working a con. Deacon’s plan seems good enough, but it relies on you being able to get close to a man suspected of numerous felonies, including murder. He had a woman on his arm when you first noticed him, but now he’s alone and has moved from roulette to Ultimate Texas Hold ‘Em.

As you walk past the table, you hear him tell the dealer, “Lots of things worth holding here, eh?”

Dropping your smile, you look over your shoulder, hoping you convey the flirty look you’re going for. Miguel locks eyes with you before you toss your hair over your shoulder and continue walking. Exhaling slowly, you keep the deliberate sway in your hips as you exit the casino and return to the balcony. You place your hands on the railing and watch, allowing your gaze to linger on Miguel longer than anyone else in the room.

Miguel stands after winning against the dealer, buttons his jacket, and begins strolling leisurely around the slot machines. He walks past Street and Tan, none the wiser to their law enforcement ties or knowledge of who he is. When he reaches the stairs, he leaves the casino behind and walks with purpose to your side.

His hand slides around your waist, and you press your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep yourself from tensing at his touch. He tugs you once, and you laugh airily as you spread your hands over his chest, your body forced against his.

“Hi,” you say softly, tracing the edges of his jacket as you introduce yourself.

“MIggy,” he replies. “So, you’re more of an observer than a gambler?”

“I- I’m not very lucky,” you admit with a shrug. “But I like watching.”

“Well, señora suerte, let’s change that.”

He keeps his arm around you but turns you to walk with him. You feel like an accessory more than a person as you accompany him down the stairs. Street raises his hand from the machine he’s sitting at to show you he has your back. Your entire team is worthy of trust, but having Street around in this particular situation helps you breathe a little easier. Deacon is upstairs, but you’ll know when he arrives. You always do.

“What’s your favorite number?” Miguel asks, his fingers brushing dangerously low on your hip. You answer without hesitating, and he replies, “How about a little Blackjack? We’ll see how far your luck takes us.”

You stand behind Miguel, slightly to his right. The woman with him earlier stayed close to him, and when he reaches back and pulls your arm to tug you against his back, you realize it was because he wanted it. Watching over his shoulder, you raise your eyes often to locate your team.

“Room for one more?” Street asks as he approaches the table.

Miguel nods to the dealer, who steps back to deal Street in. You trace your fingers up Miguel’s back, then rest your hand against his shoulder. He leans back momentarily and kisses your jaw, making you swallow uncomfortably. Luckily, he doesn’t try anything more and returns his attention to the game.

“You said you’re unlucky,” Miguel says, spinning on his stool after another game. He holds your waist and looks up at you to ask, “What’d you have such bad luck on?”

Your eyes widen as you look over his head. He furrows his brows, and your lips part before you whisper, “Roulette. I think I got a little too comfortable betting on black.”

Miguel stands and follows your line of sight. Deacon descends the staircase, stealing the attention of men and women alike in the casino. Dressed in a black English-cut suit tailored to accentuate Deacon’s muscular build, he looks like he just walked out of a James Bond movie, and it seems you’re not the only one who thinks so. Several women walk to his side, attempting to drape themselves on his arm. He sends them the heart-stopping grin you crave to see and a polite declination.

“Roulette it is,” Miguel snaps, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You stumble slightly, then catch yourself and hold his arm as you follow him. “Sorry,” you whisper. “Do you know him?”

Miguel shakes his head. When he reaches the roulette table, he looks at you to say, “It’s not black or red. But…” He glances at Deacon in his crisp black suit and decides, “I’m thinking that you and red might be the luck I need.”

You aren’t entirely sure if he said you in red or you and red, but you are not going to give him the luck he thinks either way. Deacon stops by the table to watch Miguel roll his dice, then drags his eyes up to your face. He’s a good actor, but there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen during cases before.

“Not bad,” Deacon applauds. “I’ve always been more of a bet on black guy myself.”

“Me too,” you agree, breathless without feigning it this time.

“It’s not that simple,” Miguel argues. He tightens his arm around your waist and adds, “Besides, I’ve got lady luck on my side tonight.”

Deacon smiles and says, “Ah, I see. And a beauty she is. Any chance you’re willing to spare her for one bet?”

Miguel’s jaw tenses as his hand presses against your side. “She should really stick with the guy she came in with, no?”

You pout and press your hand on Miguel’s chest again, looking through your lashes to ask, “You said I’m your señorita suerte. It won’t hurt, just once, right?”

He releases you with a stiff nod, and you loop one arm around Deacon’s elbow as you place your other hand on his bicep. Deacon smiles at you, and your grin grows into the genuine sign of joy Deacon has grown to expect when you see him.

“Wait,” you request after Deacon picks up the die. You lean over but hold eye contact with Deacon as you blow on them. “For luck,” you add lowly, returning to his side.

“May luck be a lady tonight,” he murmurs before rolling.

You watch as one of the dice goes directly onto the 20-black compartment. Deacon’s bicep flexes behind you as he cheers, and you lay your hand on his shoulders to kiss his cheek. As you step back, Deacon catches your waist.

“You are good luck,” he muses.

“Excuse me,” Miguel calls angrily. “I believe that was your one bet.”

“I’m going to walk around for a bit,” you say, stepping away from Deacon. “Nice job.”

Miguel’s jaw tenses as you begin wandering all over the room. He glares at Deacon, who raises his eyebrows with an easy smile.

“I’m the kind of man who makes my own luck,” Miguel says. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No, I don’t,” Deacon replies, crossing his arms as his blazer stretches over his back. “Spell it out for me.”

Miguel presses his finger against Deacon’s chest and hisses, “I was behind the murders in the casino in Jackson, Mississippi. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Deacon blinks, then shrugs. “You should work on your intimidation tactics.”

“Poker room, me and you. Winner gets lady luck over there.”

“She’s a person, not a trophy.”

“Maybe to you.”

Deacon smiles again as he asks, “You want to play in the poker room? Let’s do it. But at least give me an idea of what I’m getting into if I were, hypothetically, to make sure I won. No cost too high.”

“The last time a dealer gave me the wrong cards, I caught him in the parking lot and put a Glock 17 in his ear. That enough hypotheticals for you?”

“It’s enough for me,” you say.

Miguel looks over his shoulder, and you wave as you hold your off-duty weapon at his back. Street and Hondo approach him from either side, but you nod to Deacon to do the honors.

“You’re under arrest. The FBI will be here in a few minutes to pick you up. Now, you can walk out with us peacefully, maintain the tiny reputation you have,” Deacon explains. He lowers his voice and leans closer to Miguel to finish, “Or I can drag you out of here and make you beg for a little more luck.”

“I vote option two,” Street mumbles, but you barely catch it as you watch Deacon.

“I’ll walk,” Miguel whispers. “And I’ll give up someone bigger than me, the man who helps me win.”

“That’s a discussion for you and the U.S. attorneys’ office,” Deacon says, wrapping his hand around Miguel’s arm. “Start walking.”

You knock on Deacon’s door, and when he opens it, he invites you in without a word.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you cross your legs beneath you in the chair beside his bed. “I couldn’t have done that without you, at least not that smoothly.”

“The feds seemed to think you could,” he says with a smile, reminding you of how many officers personally thanked you for bringing Miguel Calvo into custody.

“You called me lady luck,” you muse. “Do you think there’s room for doubt?”

Deacon walks to you, leans over, and places his hands on the arm of the chair you’re in. There are mere breaths between you, and Deacon gives you a moment to notice it, struggles to control you’re breathing in the proximity, and then promises, “Not a bit.”

“Are you going to tell me where you got the dress now?” you inquire.

“Someone’s assistant was bringing it from the dry cleaners,” he answers. “But I don’t think that’s what you really want to talk about.”

You shake your head, and Deacon shifts to place one hand on the back of your head. You’ve showered and pulled your hair back simply after an afternoon with an over-the-top hairdo, and Deacon finally feels like he’s holding you again. He kisses you, lowering himself until he’s on his knee and level with you. You loop your arms over his shoulders and decide you are lucky. The man kissing you is all the proof you’ll ever need of that.

“Hey, Deac, I-“

You pull away from Deacon as Street stops talking. As you wipe your finger under your lips to fix your lip balm, Street looks between you and Deacon.

“Before you get mad, I just want to point out that you gave me a key,” Street begins.

[thetadispatcher]

Dan's interactions with humans had taught him that it was best to deal with the ones that challenged him swiftly, making it very clear to them that antagonizing him wasn't a very wise idea. He didn't enjoy it, but it proved to be better in the long run as it made the human more likely to cooperate instead of being purposely stubborn. He just didn't expect to have to use it at home, but he had learned there was a first time for everything so he wasn't too surprised.

Strasky shifted his attention from his counterpart to get a better look at the room, some of the walls were decorated with photos he recognized of his family with a noticeably younger Peter and Dan. Every photo included Dan, most were ones that you wouldn't expect the family android to be in. It seemed they took Dan with them on vacation, had him join in with holiday celebrations, and even celebrated the PL600's birthday or more likely the day he was activated. He noticed a few casual ones of Dan playing a video game with Peter, his mother happily helping Dan cook, and his dad showing Dan how to fix a car. Only one had Vincent and Peter was missing, meaning his parents were likely introducing their new android to their son.

Now he understood why Dan had stuck around, not once had he been mistreated as it seemed many androids were, and he'd been family since day one. So it only made sense he wouldn't want to leave his family, and instead chose to continue his role around the home. As well as why Peter might want to make the android virtually indestructible as it was clear Dan meant a lot to him, and the thought of loosing him was probably too much to bear.

Strasky was startled out of his thoughts by the android he'd seen with Dan back in the park, only now his white uniform had a rather dark blue stain on one of the arm. He was able to get a look at the androids uniform that let him know he was an RK900 as he brushed past. The RK900 headed over to Brent, who helped him out of the jacket and dress shirt, revealing his damaged arm that Brent quickly got to work repairing.

Peter glanced at the RK900, giving him an acknowledging nod which the android returned before he focused back on them. "Well, it's nice to meet you." He paused as Strasky was shown to him, cocking his head as a look of visible confusion crossed his face. He glanced at Dan who gave him a nod, confirming what they had said. "Oh, that's....interesting...." He was still a bit unsure as was evident by the look on his face as he looked over Strasky, but he didn't ask any questions as he likely wasn't sure if he wanted to know fully what was going on yet.

Peter moved to stand behind Dan, resting his chin on top of the PL600's head. He grabbed something off the desk, handing it to Dan to look over as he rested his arms over the android's shoulders. "What work did you have in mind?" He asked as Dan handed the object back to him and he stood back up. He grabbed a few tools nearby as Dan deactivated his skin, allowing the white and grey plating underneath to be seen. "If it's custom work that will take a bit longer, as you probably expected." He said with a shrug before he removed a plate from the back of Dan's head.

He plugged in a nearby computer to Dan's brain then typed in a command that made Dan's spine go perfectly straight and lock in place. "And yes, I have gotten better at working on brains. You don't have to worry about anything like my first attempt. Though I thought I'd done pretty good considering a bullet went through it. He works okay, more like a human then an android, but he's okay with it." He seemed to think they'd met the android he was talking about, but it was clear from his words the android was likely very odd when it came to things one would expect an android to be able to accomplish without issue.

He carefully reached into Dan's head, obviously unplugging something as Dan's limbs went limp. Peter picked up the small object Dan had handed back to him, inserting it into his brain before reconnecting whatever he'd unplugged. He snapped the plating back into place then turned to the computer to let him have control of his spine back as Dan reactivated his skin.

Strasky moved aside as another android entered the room, it looked just like Dan except he was wearing more normal clothes instead of his uniform. The other PL600 approached Brent who handed him the RK900's stained uniform then quickly left the room. Strasky watched him leave, which Peter picked up on.

"That was Daniel, no he wasn't one of ours. I just fixed him up, and like every android here, he decided to stick around. Not that I mind, feels like it would be mean to start kicking them out as androids are having a hard time finding places to live currently. And it's even harder for them to find places they feel safe in." He explained, feeling he should probably do that as many wondered why there was an over abundance of androids on the property.

"Oh, and this one is Nines." He turned to motion to the RK900 who waved to them with his good arm. "The one running around that looks similar to him is Sixty, an RK800, he's the one that took the bullet to the brain." Nines looked a little annoyed at the mention of Sixty, but still stayed silent.

"So what kind of unit needs work?" He asked curiously as he went back to resting against Dan, clearly just to irritate the android as he smirked when Dan let out an annoyed huff.

The android Bishop chose to ignore Dan and gave Vincent only a slight nod. Truth be told, he didn't know why Bishop specifically had made him snap like that. It wasn't the first time a stranger got close to Vincent, after all. He just knew not to trust someone with his face.

He watched Bishop follow the others after fixing his tie, still not liking the idea of the man being around, but not enough to ask him who the hell he was.

"Charming place." Rook said, eyeing the cells.

"The previous owner was known for its questionable work." Willow explained, "He will hardly be missed."

Willow's disdainful tone was telling of what she thought of Zlatko. So, Rook decided to keep her rest of her comments to herself in favor of having a look at the man of the hour.

Or rather the boy. Age wasn't something Bishop usually concerned himself with. Still, being faced with the perspective of another, younger Strasky was already causing him to grind his teeth in anticipation of the nonsense they'd certainly have to deal with.

"Yep, that's Strasky all right." Rook said, taking a step forward, "Hi, I’m Rook and this is Willow. We're here because we need someone who's good with androids to do some work for us. But before we get to that, there's someone you should meet."

Bishop proceeded to grab the back of Strasky's uniform and moved him into view. "Meet yourself."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, Miss Raven!

I hope you are having a nice day ^^

I was wondering since you don't have a Yuusona, have you ever thought making your own Yuusona like what traits, gender and personality would you have for them?

And how would their relationship be with Miss Raven would they be friends?

Sorry if I'm asking something you don't feel comfortable answering just feel free to ignore it. I'm enjoying your work and I'm new here so I hope I wasn't a bother! Love your work 🫶

I’ve thought about making a Yuu of my own on more than one occasion. However, I’ve never been a fan of the roles designated for self-inserts… It’s hard to commit. Even if I were to make my Yuu less of a Yuusona (ie just Me but in the Twst world) and more of an OC (an entity totally separate from myself), I always lose motivation somewhere along the way.

That’s of course not to disparage anyone who has a Yuu though!! I just personally find it a struggle to design around a somewhat predetermined identity. There’s less freedom in a Yuu because they have to meet certain parameters in order to “make sense” in the story. For example, Yuus are generally from our ordinary world and magicless. I don’t like having those limitations (and though I could go against it, I’d refrain in order to not break canon lore). That’s why my first Twst OC is very far removed and exists as her own thing.

For fun, here’s some of my scraped Yuu concepts, including doodles. They're not really "Yuusonas" though, more like original characters that happen to be filing in for Yuu:

Yuu 1: Mad Scientist Yuu

The earliest iteration.

This Yuu is ~16, male. Considered nonbinary at one point too.

The notes in the image basically describe him. Germaphobe, has lots of band-aids (because he is accident-prone), constantly tired + has dark undereye circles due to excess stress and lack of sleep.

Frequently seen in face mask, lab coat, and latex gloves.

“Don’t bother me” energy. Very curt with people and just wants to be left alone.

Claims to be an egalitarian because he “hates everyone equally”.

As the story went on, he would have learned to lighten up and work with others too. Basically, the same arc the NRC students have.

I didn't think too deeply about what his relationship with Miss Raven would be like... Most likely, he just dislikes and avoids her like he does the rest of the NRC population.

Yuu 2: “Robert Philip the Divorce Lawyer” Yuu

Twisted from the divorce lawyer love interest in Enchanted 😭 YES, I SAID WHAt i SAiD…

This Yuu is 35ish, male.

Has a very girly young daughter back home. She is basically his motivation to return.

His ex-wife left him. (YES I AM KEEPING THIS LORE.) Has sworn off love since then but is dating another woman for practical reasons.

Very anti-romance and anti-fairy tales.

Somewhat grumpy.

Logical, pragmatic. Some would say calculating.

Constantly arguing with Crowley because he knows his rights and how many laws Crowley is violating/j

He wouldn’t have been a student but more like a faculty member and father figure to the NRC students. By being in Twisted Wonderland, he helps to mentor the boys as though they were his own children, and the boys in turn teach him about magic, imagination, and believing even in seemingly impossible things.

Had an idea about him finding true love in Twisted Wonderland too; this would basically be his Giselle. Maybe a kind lady from Foothill Town??

Robert!Yuu was going to be sort of a secondary father figure to Miss Raven. Crowley is her real guardian, but he's usually not fulfilling the typical duties of a guardian so Robert!Yuu has to step up. In a lot of ways, Miss Raven reminds him of an older version of his own daughter so he has a soft spot for her. He also tries his best to advise her on life and boys. I imagine that he and Miss Raven have that Hades and Megara scene where she's gushing about Hercules and Hades goes, "Please. HE'S A GUY!!"

Yuus 3 and 4: Twin Yuus

The bangs they have are borrowed from Robert!Yuu because I liked them and was too lazy to try something new out—

They’re brother and sister, both 17. I wanted to play around with the concept of multiple Yuus in Twisted Wonderland at the same time. Twins because they are supposed to be “a mirror image” of the other.

The theme these two would explore is gender, particularly expectations vs reality.

They come from an old money family; each twin has very traditionally gendered expectations placed on them but their secret is they swap places and pretend to be the other twin so as to get out of their own responsibilities, as the girl is tomboyish and the boy is more feminine.

They continue this act in Twisted Wonderland in order to "protect" one another, but their relationship becomes strained with each OB. For example, the male twin would become increasing protective, feeling like it is his responsibility to keep his sister safe. This would earn him his sister's ire since he never smothered her before. The twins would eventually reconcile and come to reach a middle ground regarding one another's expression of their gender and how that informs their behavior toward one another.

In another variation, only the male-presenting twin would be isekai'd to Twisted Wonderland. It would later be revealed that "he" is actually a "she". The explanation that she provides for acting masculine is to rebel against the expectations of her family (who had arranged a marriage for her prior to her being isekai'd).

... But then there's ANOTHER twist 🤡 and it turns out that her "masculine self" closely resembles her actual twin brother (who is now deceased). The idea is that she partly acts this way as a trauma response and relies a lot on "speaking" with her brother for advice on how to move forward in Twisted Wonderland. Like, she has pretend conversations with him in her head.

Her character arc would have been centered around detaching herself from the expectations placed on her, as well as learning to let her brother go and become her own person.

ASDSBDABSDOSA I feel like Miss Raven would be so confused trying to keep track of the twins and/or the single twin's dramatic backstory. She'd be pretty cordial with them though! Maybe even tries to counsel them when they're fighting or closed off from others.

Yuu 5: Ara Ara Onee-san Yuu (WIP name is Sumire -> Suu -> her variation of “Yuu”, lol)

The best designed one, probably.

The only one with a proper name, too :v

She's 18 and female!

Started off as a joke between me and a friend. We were talking about how we think many of the first year students would be into "onee-san" types.

As you may or may not be able to tell by the design, she's meant to be a caring big sister character. Sweet, patient, and motherly. Even gardens and bakes! The type you know you can always go to when you need advice or comforting.

YEAH I GAVE HER DEAD ANIME MOM HAIR, SO WHAT???? The bangs swooping over one side of her face gives her sort of a mysterious air!

She looks very kind (and that's because she is), but she is also very air-headed. Like she'll pick up a worm and hold it in your face and ask you if you think it's cute.

Has a secret sadistic side. Not malicious and won't go out of her way to cause problems, but she'll gush about how she thinks you being frustrated or struggling with a task is "cute".

The arc Sumire would go on is one revolving around her status as the "older sister" of the group and finding a "pure" way of loving her friends. There's nothing wrong with having that role, but her issue is that she relies on it to be her personality and often gives away too much of herself at the cost of her own mental and emotional wellbeing.

It's like... codependency. She loves you because (whether she knows it or not) she NEEDS validation from others. And because she wants that validation so much, she forces herself to be someone she's not at her core. Someone agreeable and sweet. That becomes very taxing for her.

If she feels as though someone is going to leave her, she'll either love bomb or have a mental breakdown in private. TO BE CLEAR, this is not healthy behavior and she's supposed to grow out of this obsessiveness over the course of the main story.

By that logic, she's more manipulative and selfish than she seems at a glance. I guess you could describe her true personality as being yandere or even menhara?? But she usually masks it well.

Miss Raven has a history of falling for pretty smiles, so I think she'd also be a victim of this one. She would look up to Sumire as like "the peak lady" and the big sis she's always wanted. REALLY feeding into her secret ego there, Miss Raven... and Sumire, being herself, would just giggle and pat her on the head to keep that toxic relationship going.

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 12

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Anxiety, Bad parents and siblings, Talking about abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

It had been just over a week since your wedding. You and Jake have improved your communication. He's also managed to really set himself up in the home theater where he'd spent that first night. Apparently one thing your parents got right was the massive pair of recliners specifically for that room. Jake swears they're more comfortable than most of the beds he's slept on over the years. It makes you feel better about taking the master bedroom for yourself. Clay had visited again bringing a few duffel bags of Jake's things, including his computer. The massive screen for the theater worked really well for his setup.

While you were cooking, Clay had made sure to update Jake on the status of his family. Things were working pretty well, but there were going to be a lot of paper trails to hide so that they couldn't be followed. Or at least, not followed easily. Aisha and Cougar had both caught a couple of people following his family around that were confirmed to be employed by his parents. Hopefully now that Jake had his computer he could get some better intel on the parents' finances and connections.

But you weren't privy to that update. Jake and Clay agreed it was safer to keep you in the dark about the details. Though Jake didn't doubt your sincerity, there were still too many unknowns about you.

You really didn't mind that they got quiet whenever you were near. Your mind was already at maximum anxiety with Travis, your brother, still being in the Intensive Care Unit. Your parents had been acting unusually as the week progressed and Travis didn't get better. According to the police report he'd been seen drinking heavily with friends before trying to drive home. Usually one of his friends would be the designated driver and keep everyone's keys but, somehow, Travis had gotten his keys.

And now your parents seemed to be readjusting their life plans, and yours as well. The one time you were allowed to visit the hospital you'd overheard your parents murmuring about "he can't be seen like this," "he'll be seen as weak," and other similar thoughts. It made you worried you and Jake would be even more under their scrutiny, set to even higher standards. Your breath hitched as you realized they may demand a grandchild to help change the public perception of the family to one of hope or something like that.

You and Jake were getting ready for your first public event as a couple. You're helping Jake pick out the right suit while doing your best to answer his questions about what to expect, what is appropriate conversation, how much both of you needed to talk to others before you could leave. You know you're missing things. Jake does, too. But neither of you can think of the questions to ask so you establish a silent signal for help. Jake squeezes your hand three times and you either step in or whisper some advice in his ear. It's not a great system, but it's all you can do for now.

Jake hates how he looks in all of this but he knows it's not about him or his comfort. At least he doesn't have to wear the torture device you call a dress. The thing looks impossibly tight on you. He's worried about your ability to breathe. And the stiletto heels have you warning him you'll be on his arm all night to help you keep your balance. Jake actually takes comfort in that because he really doesn't want to be left alone at this event. Probably any event, but this first one especially.

As the car pulls up Jake takes a deep breath and you attempt the same.

"We can do this, right?" He says quietly.

"I believe we can," you nod. You gently squeeze his hand in reassurance like you did that first morning with the parents.

He nods, "let's do this."

As soon as he's able Jake is out of the car and opening your door for you. The last time he did so you were scared of each other. Now you make sure to give him a small smile of thanks as he takes your hand. The elevator ride to the party is as quiet as the one you took together your wedding night, but less oppressively so. It isn't until the elevator doors open that you both put on your fake smiles. Both of you taking small comfort in the fact that neither of you is suffering alone.

After the first couple hours Jake is ready to punch someone, anyone, just so he can be forced to leave since he's not allowed out yet. He's incredibly grateful you insisted on eating a little something beforehand. The food here is barely edible and dissolves faster than cotton candy. He hates the wine? Champagne? Whatever the hell it is, he hates the taste of it but, in following your lead, he knows he has to at least sip often enough to warrant a replacement glass every 30 minutes or so. Jake was grateful to have your weight on his arm to help keep him grounded.

Especially when Charles Blackwood, a "friend" of his from high school, showed up. Charles had been nothing but a leech throughout all of high school but Jake was desperate for some kind of friendship.

"Jacob! Where have you been?" Charles holds out his hand and Jake grips it firmly.

"I've been okay, Charles. You?"

"Holy crap, you're married now? Is that why you finally came out of hiding?"

"Sort of," he admits.

He goes to introduce you but Charles stops him. "I know this lovely lady quite well," he admits. You avert your eyes. "We were engaged for some time."

"You were?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Charles smirks. "Would've been married for two years now if her parents hadn't stepped in."

"For once I'm glad they did," you interject. "You're a conman who shouldn't be here."

Charles gives a small laugh, "well look who finally grew up. Too bad you didn't pick up on what was going on before I got you into bed." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "How are those dolphin projects going?"

"Sharks," Jake snipes. "Her focus was on sharks."

"Ooo, nerd standing up for nerd. How cute."

"You need to leave us alone," Jake fumes. "She is my wife and I won't let you insult her."

Charles scoffs, "since when can you fight?"

"Since boot camp."

That gives Charles pause. He searches Jake's face for tells that he's lying but finds none.

"Yeah, alright," Charles concedes. "Just don't ruin this party for me. Lots of other potential targets."

As soon as he was out of hearing range you let out a breath. "I'm so sorry," your voice quavers. "I should have...I should have told you."

"Told me what? That your ex-fiance is an asshole? That's not something you need to divulge."

"No...that...that I'm not..."

Jake leans in so that you're the only one who hears him. "You're more than just your virginity status. I'm sorry your first time was with him, he doesn't seem the type to make your pleasure a priority, but I'm not upset that you've had sex before."

You take as deep a breath as you can to steady yourself. "Thank you for that."

"So, can we leave the party yet?"

You check Jake's watch, trying not to be obvious about it. "We've got at least another half hour."

"When we do get out of here, would you be up for going out for some real food?"

You chuckle, "maybe delivery? Or take out? I'm not going to be able to eat much in this dress."

"Fair. And thank you for helping me get through all of this."

"Thank you for listening to my advice," you counter.

"Always," Jake affirms.

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @embarrasingmf;

@irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82;

@ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[kingkatsuki]

— blind justice

Warnings: 18+, obsessive Higuruma, stalking, voyuerism .

You and Higuruma have never really met, but he feels like he knows you by now. Or at least — he knows a lot about you.

He knows what you do for a living, what you like to do outside of work, where you shop for groceries, and of course your favourite coffee shop — even down to your exact order. He’s also memorised your exact commute to and from work (which leads him to one of the seedier areas in Tokyo (something that fills him with dread each time you leave work a little later than usual).

Higuruma remembers the exact moment he was approached to defend your now ex-boyfriend. A seemingly good guy on paper with no prior convictions and unequivocally adamant that you were a scorned girlfriend trying to ruin his life when he’d tried to break up with you.

Higuruma couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are when you sat in front of him in the court room. An inexplicable ebb began to form in the pit of his stomach as he began to tear your story down brick by brick in front of the judge and jury, countering all your answers in defense of his client until he noticed you were holding back tears.

Of course, Higuruma won the case and the man was free to go.

But it wasn’t even a month later that another file sat in front of Higuruma on his desk. The same man he had defended before was asking for his help again as he was now facing prison time. Higuruma flicked through the pages to read the new charge — assault. Paired with a photograph of his victim.

You.

The first thing Higuruma noticed now he could admire you up close was that you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen — even when they were filled with fear as you stared hopelessly up at the camera. A dark bruise bloomed across your cheekbone as he noticed a slight gash beneath it from what he could only summise to be caused by a ring. You looked completely defeated, and it was his fault. He’d been the one to get your ex-boyfriend off with a slap on the wrist so that he was able to hurt you again, and he hated himself for it.

In that moment Higuruma had the most intense urge to protect you.

Some of the information about you was easier to find than others. Of course it had helped that your full name and address had been included in the case file, skimming your deposition as he learned about the abuse you’d endured at the hands of this lowlife. It had Higuruma’s heart churning in his chest, only adding to his disillusionment of the legal system when he’d discovered you’d reported this man at least six times. And yet this seemed to be the second time he’d ever been taken to court for something. The rest of the charges dropped for lack of evidence.

And he’d blindly defended your ex-boyfriend in court in the name of justice, but the justice he was so set on fighting for had not been served. And guilt began to seep into his veins as he glanced back at the photographs of you covered in bruises — it was all his fault.

But he’d make it right.

Higuruma wouldn’t consider this stalking — perhaps following you to and from work was a little unorthodox, but it’s not like the police were doing anything to protect you. And at least the other locations could be attributed to shared interests — everyone loves a coffee shop right?

The trial had made things more difficult, and he was certain his license would be in jeopardy if you found out what he was doing, so for now it was what he needed to do to keep you safe.

Especially when you’ve just got out of a relationship with an absolute sleazebag of a boyfriend — if it could even be classified as a relationship. The file detailed a tumultuous relationship that seemed to often end with you hurt, some scars worse than others as Higuruma wished he could just hold you in his arms.

So until then, he’d look after you.

He could admit sometimes he enjoys a break from his office when he leaves to find you in a local pub with your friends. Nursing a glass of whisky at the bar while you sat down drinking with your friends, admiring the pretty dresses and skirts that you always seemed to wear. His dark eyes glaring daggers at any man that even glanced in your direction when you leaned against the bar to order another round, your skirt creeping up your thighs. And if Higuruma was any less of a man, he definitely would have looked—

The neon lights of his alarm clock began to flash as the incessant beep rung out in his bedroom as he’d seemingly stayed up all night to find out more about you. There was at least three weeks until the court date, and your ex-boyfriend was out on bail for no prior convictions — that was three weeks too long.

He found himself delving deeper, losing himself in time while bleary eyes continued to stare at his laptop screen, scrolling through years of your social media. Your most recent post detailed how terrified you were about sleeping in your apartment alone and that every noise kept you up at night, and Higuruma knew then what he had to do, especially when the legal system was failing you — he had failed you.

He’d failed you in the courtroom so this time he had to protect you.

It’s why he’d ended up slipping an AirTag inside your purse one evening during your commute home, a device that you still hadn’t seemed to find (and even more reason why you needed him) as he kept his notifications on for you. Leaving his office early whenever he saw you were on the move, following obediently as he found himself falling into your routine.

His favourite was always the weekends you’d indulge in a bubble bath. Finding himself relaxed in the opposite high rise with a pack of smokes as he watched you completely unaware that he could see through the sheer curtains in your bedroom as you came out of the bathroom surrounded in a dewy glow. Settling your feet against the sheets of your bed as you smoothed cream along your supple thighs.

You’d have to forgive him for fisting his cock at the sight of you. Biting back a gruff grunt as he pictured sliding inside your warm, wet cunt. Molding you into the shape of him so you’d never be able to remember all the other guys that you’d been with before, feeling your pliant walls clamp down around his length as he made you cum before filling you up with his spend. Sighing when warm rivulets of cum would ooze out of his thick cock, coating his and and thighs as he pictured how pretty you’d look with it drooling out of your tightness instead.

What he wouldn’t give for just a feel of you — and perhaps you’d let him as a special thank you for diligently looking after you.

And so what if your ex-boyfriend had already been sentenced this time and was finally doing time for his abuse and stalking — why would Higuruma want to stop following you? He’d ensure that no one else ever had the opportunity to lay a finger on you ever again.

Especially when your taste in men seemed to be far less than savory. Rolling his eyes at the way you perked up when another asshole approached you on a night out with friends a few weeks later. Giving you a casual smile with his hand resting on the curve of your back, dangerously close to your ass. Hiromi would snap his fingers clean off for even touching you like this, you were far too delicate.

Downing the rest of his whisky as he followed the man out of the bar when he left for a smoke. Towering over him as he shoved him down a dirty alley at the side of the building to threaten him with a flurry of possible charges that could come out of one night with you — something that was far too easy to do when you’re in his line of work.

Finishing off his own cigarette as he watched you look around the street for the man you were supposed to be going home with tonight to see he was now nowhere to be seen. Higuruma watched in satisfaction as he crushed the butt of his cigarette beneath his sole. Getting ready to follow you home alone.

After all, you can never be too careful these days… there’s just so many creeps about.

[castillon02]

When Jason starts to prioritize cooperation as well as vengeance, Tim suspects Jason's self-control still isn't that great. Since he's Tim, well...

He conducts some tests.

Hood is about to murder someone that they need information from when Tim calls out, "Hey, Hood, has anyone ever told you that you're a Decepticon wannabe who probably fucks himself to the sound of his own robot voice?"

Hood stills.

The drug dealer who sold tenth-grader Benny Garcia fentanyl gapes in a way that shows off his recently-missing teeth.

Hood drops the dealer in a heap and turns his shitkicker combat boots in Tim's direction.

Tim bolts. Batman will swoop in to continue the dealer's interrogation; he and Hood have figured out a good-cop-bad-cop thing, though Batman still seems bemused about the chance to be 'good cop.'

Hood races after him.

---

Tim makes it to a safe house off of Robinson Park. He probably lost Hood about half an hour ago, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially when---oh, shit.

"This place is filthy," Jason says, sitting on the kitchen counter that Tim never uses and looking with disdain at Tim's collection of empty energy drink cans, takeout boxes, and crime yarn. Jason's not wearing his helmet or domino, and he taps his boot heels softly against the cabinet door like a little kid. Not exactly danger signals.

But for a moment, all Tim can look at is the boots. It's stupid; the knife at his neck was closer to fatal. But the kicking had hurt the worst.

"Since you apparently have time to run your mouth," Jason says, "and since someone stole my target, it seems like we both have time to clean up in here. I went out and got trash bags." He nudges a box on the counter next to him. The trash bags are the sturdy kind, not the flimsy cheap kind or the extra-strength hide-the-body-parts kind.

Tim has been meaning to get trash bags for this place for three weeks. It's just that he doesn't visit often, and when he does it's usually when he's injured or tired, and he could get things delivered but that's a paper trail he could avoid if he just made time to visit the bodega down the street... "You're a trash bag," he says, even though it doesn't make sense.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just for that, we're mopping the floor too. Luckily, I came prepared." He hops down from the counter and opens the little mystery closet next to the fridge. Inside: a broom, a Swiffer, a bucket, a pack of scrub brushes still in their plastic, and a jug of bleach.

Ohhh, that's why the closet is so narrow. It's supposed to hold cleaning supplies. Right. Tim definitely knew that. Tim definitely doesn't just have a roll of paper towels...somewhere...that he sometimes puts dish soap on.

He squints at Jason. Still no green danger-eyes. "Darcy and Elizabeth would never let you be part of a throuple with them," he tries.

Jason pulls out a trash bag. "They've got issues anyway."

"Helen Keller would make up new words so she could sign how ugly your face is."

"She was a socialist," Jason says. He holds the bag and gestures at Tim's kitchen table. "So we'd probably just talk about organizing the working class. I don't think looks would come into it. Also, way to be a dick."

"You're so pathetic that Jane Eyre would give up on you like she didn't give up on Rochester," Tim says, figuring he did the research for this attack, so he might as well use it.

Jason actually laughs a little bit. "First of all, there's a lot of power exchange going on in that decision, so jot that down," he says. "Second of all." He looks Tim in the face. "If I start to lose my temper, I'll leave, okay? Or you can just ask me to."

"Even if I asked right now?" Tim asks.

"Even if you asked right now," Jason confirms, though he eyeballs Tim's mess.

Jason's still holding the trash bag. Hands out, open body language, seemingly not homicidal.

Tim had planned for a lot of things with this encounter, including a body bag. Trash bags weren't one of his considered variables. He starts picking up empty cans. "This one can be for recycling," he says, dumping the cans into Jason's bag. New things from old materials. Jason likes that symbolism shit, right?

(Though...new things. Old materials. If there's anyone who ought to be good at that, it's someone who got raised from the dead.

Tim smirks and keeps the thought to himself. Operation: Limitless has been a startling success; he doesn't need to verbalize all his inside thoughts now.)

("Kid, I can tell you're thinking about a zombie joke," Jason says anyway. "You can only tell me after we've brought this shit-heap back to life.")

[mattsredgaphoodie]

attempting to study with cfs!chris - which leads to something else very quickly. wc: 897. warnings: fluff, making out, mention of getting hard.

"chris come on. you need to study, seriously. you're gonna fail your sat."

chris whines subtly from the spot next to you, laid out next to all the books and the one macbook infront of you both. "cubbyyyy.. i'll be fine. can we just take a break? we've been studying for hours."

"i've been studying for hours. all you've done is run through my pantry of snacks, kiss my thighs, and fall asleep what, twice now? you really need to focus." she says, almost desperately.

he plants another subtle kiss to her lower thigh. "yeah, but you like it." he huffs softly, realizing she's not gonna give up anytime soon. "fine. ill study. only cause my favorite girl wants me to, so so badly." he sits up, now in a criss-cross, rubbing her thigh in admiration of her dedication for his studying.

"finally. here, maybe to keep your mind focused and on-track, ill give you a kiss everytime you get 5 questions right, yeah?"

"5?!" "5." "maybe 1?' "3. lowest ill go." "fine."

after this agreement, desperately in need of kisses from his favorite, he quickly got on track. he finished 3 questions and smiled at her and rubbed her cheek.

"mm-mm. i have to make sure they are right, first." she says as she smiles softly, pulling his hand away from her face and looking down at the paper.

he huffs softly, rather taking this short period of time to examine her. he notices the small things about her when she's checking over his work, like when she bites the bottom end of her pen, the way she rubs the paper flat every once in a while to make sure she can see everything, and how she doesn't take her eyes off the paper, not even once, so she doesn't lose track.

"they're all right?" she nods. "you sure?" "you doubtin' me, sturniolo?" "no, no, of course not. just making sure." she smiles and kisses his soft, rosy lips carefully.

as she's about to lean back, he quickly diminishes his shy-personality and grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer. despite her efforts, she quickly reciprocates the much-needed kiss.

truthfully, she's been needing this just as much as he does. they haven't had any time to themselves in a while, and seeing how quickly it takes for their desire to appear, they both take advantage of the 3 right answers.

she pulls away quickly, earning a whine from chris. "hold on, im setting the stuff on the floor so we don't mess anything up." he nods and leans back, watching her as she sets everything down onto her hardwood floor. as she leans back up, he grabs her wrist and pulls her on top of him, bringing her closer to his reach, allowing him to kiss her beautiful, glossy pink lips.

she quickly straddles him, not breaking the kiss. as she's doing so, he takes the small opportunity as she opens her mouth slightly to quickly enter his tongue into her mouth.

this reciprocated attraction quickly passes 10 minutes, including small breath breaks.

by accident, she rolls her hips across his, creating more comfort for her, but the opposite for him.

"hmph- cub, stop." he says through muffled kisses.

"what? my legs are getting tired." she says as she pulls away carefully, leaving a string of saliva connecting the two still together.

"you can't be rubbing your hips against me like that when we're making out, kid." he lets out a breathless laugh as he licks his wet lips, breaking the saliva string.

"wait wh- oh." as she realizes, she quickly covers her mouth letting out muffled laughs.

"im- so sorry." she says she leans back, sitting in an upright position.

"it-it's fine. but, you're currently making it a lot worse. either get off or move up a bit."

"shit- yeah, yeah of course." as she finishes her sentence she quickly moves her hips up so she's straddling his upper torso. "better?"

"ye-yeah." he says as he grips her hips tightly, almost tight enough to leave marks. "come back, cub. miss you." he says softly, almost embarrassed of his clingy words.

"yeah? miss me?" she says as she laughs and leans back down, her chest directly on his as she connects with his puffy, cherry red lips.

"mm-mhm." he nods softly, running his hands up and down her back and thighs.

after a bit longer, she gives him a deep kiss, and pulls away. "we seriously need to study. no more kissing, seriously." she climbs off his lap, leaning down to the floor, grabbing their materials once again.

as she pulls away and climbs off, he lets out a small huff and looks up, redirecting his gaze to the white ceiling.

"chris." "hm?" "go to the bathroom." "why?" she lets out a small cough as he looks up, directing his sight to hers, as he notices her gaze go to this lower torso.

"fuck- i'm so-sorry." he says as he quickly stands up off the bed, and his rosy cheeks turn a shade of deep red.

"its fine, c. just go to the bathroom."

he nods and almost- painfully, runs to the bathroom.

she watches as he runs out, and lets out a small laugh, realizing their "strictly friend" relationship is never going to be the same after their first kiss, 2 months ago.

[fashionteahouse]

Can I get a she fell first he fell harder where reader always had a crush on embry all throughout high school and always asked him out but he always rejected her nicely until she gave up then they meet again but she’s over him so he has to work extra hard to get her attention smut included???

ofc you can ! XD hope you enjoy :)

coming back - embry x reader

Barely being able to maintain eye contact, the floor and his shirt covered chest was more interesting. You felt fluttery and a fiery blush stained your cheeks.

“You dropped this.” he tells you. He held out a mitten that you dropped and you take it back.

“Thanks.” you say to him with a smile. He was so kind and warm. That’s why it was so addicting to be in his presence. You watch starry eyed as he walked away.

With his body now out of your view, your eyes then flicker to a paper hung up on the hallway wall.

You weren’t going to go. But, you had a newfound form of hope.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than your usual wake up time.

You made sure to make sure you looked extra nice.

You found him at his locker, he was alone. He was taking his jacket off to put it in there. You tap his shoulder as you walked up behind him.

He turns around and says hi, remembering the interaction from yesterday. He displayed a kind smile. Your heart skips a beat as you see that what he’s wearing looks great on him.

“I just um… wanted to know if you were going to Homecoming?” you say, you tried to hide the fact that you were nervous.

“Mm…I don’t think so. Are you?” he asks after thinking of the idea of going to a school dance.

“Yeah. I mean..I don’t know..But, um we could like..Go together?” you offer. There, you threw it out there.

A soft smile, “Oh. I think I’m going to sit this one out. But, thanks for asking though.” he says and off he goes to where his friends were at.

You sigh in defeat.

You didn’t go as well. You didn’t want to see people at your school dressed up for a dance and Embry wasn’t there. You still had hope.

You still made sure to speak to him when you did see him. He kept it brief.

One day in science class, it was a lab day. The teacher wanted the students to do a gravity experiment with dropping small balls and calculate how long it took for the small ball to drop to the ground.

The thing was, she wanted everyone to do it in the hallway since there was a balcony that showed the first floor of the school.

You were partnered up and you ran down the steps to retrieve the ball from the first floor. Your partner wrote down the time as they paused the stop watch.

Scooping the ball into your hand, you look over and see Embry walking.

“Hey.” you say with a smile.

“Hi.” he says back. He kept walking. You were a bit sad that he wasn’t curious about what you were doing, or showing interest that he wanted to talk more.

You did your best. Wearing what looked good, putting effort into your appearance. You stared at him as he would walk past. One time, he did look, but he just kept walking.

You heard his friends, wishing him a happy birthday. You smile as you look at the date, you made sure to keep note of the day’s date.

When he was in line at lunch, luckily his friends didn’t join him yet.

“Hey, birthday boy.” you say, he turns to see you and he chuckles lightly.

“Hey.”

“Have any plans?”

“Uh..Not really. Most of my friends have work. We’re going to celebrate it on the weekend.” he answers.

“Well..I could take you out. My treat.” you say.

He takes a look, you’re glad that you look nice today, the smile you gave him showed a lot of interest and you watched his eyes as he made a decision.

“That’s okay. I will just chill at home. Thanks for asking though.” he says with a polite smile and carries his tray away.

Your shoulder slump forward due to defeat. Even though luck was not on your side, you still had an ounce of hope.

You however, found yourself getting a tad bit jealous when he would laugh or talk to a girl that wasn’t you.

You wanted to know how it felt to have all of his attention.

You still cling onto your hopes when it’s time for prom. Your friends actually had dates and you wanted to go for the last bit of experience.

Hearing the prom date over the intercom during morning announcements, an idea pops into your head.

Smoothly walking to where he was, he took a quick drink out of the water fountain.

He smiled a bit when he seen you, your heart leaped with hope and joy. You smile back and ask him how his day is going, you were going to try the smooth approach.

“It’s going okay. How’s yours?” he asks. You seeped into the conversation, “Eh, it’s alright.” He’s walking leisurely and you’re walking side by side with him.

“Are you going to prom?” he asks you. You almost felt like you were dreaming, you nod with enthusiasm.

“Are you?” you ask. You watch as he thinks for a bit.

“Yeah. Are you going with someone?” he asks you.

You shake your head.

“Are you?” you ask and start to smile. He nods a bit, “Yeah. I got asked.” he laughs a bit.

“Oh…” you say and your entire expression is crestfallen.

“We’re going as friends but, still. Hey, at least I will see you there.” he says and before you realized it, you were outside of his classroom.

“Yeah. See you there.” you say sadly and watch him walk in the classroom and greet a friend of his.

You had to walk the walk of shame to your own classroom.

At prom, you tried to have a good time. Your friends even abandoned their own dates for a moment to include you. Your eyes kept looking over the girl that won Embry’s yes.

She danced with him, she laughed with him, and she even complimented your dress when you got something to drink. You couldn’t even dislike her even if you wanted to.

Life after high school had been easy on you. Studying for a career path that you have been passionate about, made you have passion for life for the future.

Coming back home for the holidays, you were happy to see your old friends on Christmas break.

The day before Christmas Eve, you stopped at a store to buy some gift wrapping paper. That’s when you saw him. You didn’t get the same fluttery feelings you had and to be honest, he crossed your mind but not in a romantic way. You would laugh lightly to yourself how intense you felt about the hopeful teenage romance. You were glad that he had a kind nature.

He was the one that spoke to you first.

“You’re back.” he says with a smile. He was in front of you in line and he turned around.

“Yeah. How are you?” you say politely.

“I’m good. And you?”

“Great.” you say.

“How long are you here for?” he asks you.

“Just until after New Years.” you just say and plan to leave it at that.

“Cool. We get to see each other often until you leave, then.” he says.

You give him a tight lipped smile and nod a bit.

He noticed your reservedness and another cashier opened their register and says she can take the next person in line in her line.

“See ya.” you just say and walk to the new cashier.

Embry was going to say something before you were out of your sight but you moved too fast, making his words get caught in your throat.

On Christmas Eve, you all exchanged gifts, each of you having a secret Santa.

It was nice and warm and you all talked about the good old days of high school.

Your friends knew you weren’t Embry-crazy anymore, you barely brought him up.

On a spur of the moment, you all go to the favorite coffee shop that you all loved. You got the hot chocolate and it tasted better than you imagined it would.

“I so miss this.” you say as you chew on the hot and semi-melted marshmallows.

Hums of agreement follows as they drink their own drinks.

You hear a bell and you look up and see that it’s Embry. You didn’t know he enjoyed this place too. You shrug and continue to drink your drink and fall into the table’s conversation.

“Y/N. Crazy we run into each other again.” he says with a smile. You lick the top of your lip a bit as the speck of whipped cream was resting there and you nod.

“I know right.” you say and continue your sip. Silence was met for a moment before your friend says that they’re done and if you guys were joining them in going back to the car. You all agree and you rise up and put your coat back on.

As your friends are deep in their chatter, he comes close to you and says to you in a hushed tone, “You have any plans for tomorrow?”

“Um..” you think for a moment, you were going to stop past your family’s home, but other than that, you were going to go back to your friend’s to spend the remainder of the day with them.

“Just celebrating with them and my family but, it was nice seeing you, though. I’ll see you around.” you say and walk out of the door with your friends.

He didn’t know how he could have messed it up. You weren’t the awkward teenager that he would see around school. The conversation was different.

You even looked different. You’ve grown into the woman that looked comfortable in their skin.

“Guys we should see the Christmas lights in the city!” your friend says as you all walk to the car.

“In the cold? No way.” you say, your teeth chattering at the light snow that started to fall.

“Come on. We don’t have to stay long.” they plead. You agree. They’re excited.

Christmas morning, you seen your family. Exchanged gifts, ate a bit of the dinner that was cooked and went on your way.

Walking through the city, your hands was trying to loosen the mittens so you can stick your hands in them. It wasn’t snowing when you left out, but it was starting to fall more gradually.

Dropping the mitten, you sigh a bit and lean down to get it, but someone was faster than you. Looking up to thank the person, you seen that it’s Embry.

“You following me or something?” you ask but you were teasing him.

His face turned into a look of horror, “N-No. Not at all!” he says.

Laughing a bit at his panicked state, “I was kidding.” you just say and you take the mitten from him, “Oh, and thanks.” you say and you walk to catch up with your friends.

“Wait.” you hear him say. You slow down your pace, he walks beside you.

“Yeah?” you ask as the mittens were now on your hands and you were stuffing your hands in your coat pocket.

“You’re seeing the lights right?” he asks.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh.” you just say and continue to walk.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing them with you.” he says.

“Oh. Cool.” you say, your face grimaced a bit from the cold wind that blew in your face.

He walked with you, you all saw the Christmas lights. You and your friends took pictures. You only commented back when he would comment about the sight.

Leaving, he touched your coat covered arm, “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah. See ya.” you say with a polite smile and wave and go about your way.

Embry’s face was crestfallen, but you didn’t see it. Your back was facing him and you and your friends talked about the lights you all saw.

You offer to go to the liquor store to grab drinks for the upcoming New Year’s eve party.

You placed the heavy bottle in your basket and seen Embry come in. This time, with a friend of his. They nod to each other as you both go in different directions.

You go to wait in line.

You felt a tap. You turn around.

“Hey.” he says. You just nod in greeting. You turn back around.

“What kind of drinks did you get?” he asked.

You show him the labels of each bottle.

“You have plans for New Years?” he asks.

“Sorta. I’m going to a party.”

“Who’s party?”

“You don’t know them.” you say. It was true.

“That’s funny. I’m having a party.”

“Oh yeah? Well, have fun.” you say as you place the bottles on the checkout belt. You were up next and the person in front of you were already handing the cashier their money.

“You should come.” he says.

“And ditch my friends?”

“Bring your friends.”

“Mm. I’ll pass. But thanks anyway.” you say.

“Please?” he asks. You actually give it some thought. “Oh what the hell.” you thought.

You fully turn to face him.

“I don’t know your friends. I barely know you, I just know you from the small interactions we had in school.”

“Get to know me then.” he says.

“Embry’s party?” your friend asks again. You nod.

“Uh oh. Here we go.” they laugh as they tease you.

“It’s not like that. I’m just going to show my face and we can leave.” you say and finish straightening out your outfit.

“Sure.” they say with a smirk and you nudge them to get them to be quiet. They just laugh instead.

You enter his home, it was a full house. The music vibrated the floor and you cross your arms as you scope the scenery.

A friend of yours scope out a guy they can talk to. You groan at the fact that they leave you to make their move.

You hear someone call your name.

“Hey.” you say.

“You made it!” he says with a smile.

“Uh huh.” you say as you take a look around. If it was his place, it wasn’t bad. People dancing and having fun with each other.

“Wanna dance?” he asks.

“Uh..Nah.” you say politely and move around him. He’s following you.

“Why not?” he asks, not in a pushy way, but in genuine curiosity. You shrug.

“I can’t dance.”

“Everyone can dance.” he says.

“Not true.” you say.

“Want me to show you?” he asks.

“Nah.” you say and ask, “What do you have to drink?”

“Anything you want.” he says. You chuckle.

“Seriously.”

“I am serious.” he says.

You walk away, while chuckling and shaking your head a bit in a friendly manner.

You had a drink in your hand as your friend was wrapped around a guy, them two explaining something that they had in common. It was evident they’ve been drinking, the loud passionate talking made you zone out a bit.

“You wouldn’t be bored if you danced with me.” he says and stands next to you on the wall.

“One dance. That’s it. You’re not making a fool of me.” you say in humorous fashion.

“Never.” he says.

You didn’t think you could be totally wrong. This moment, was true evidence that you had gotten a whiplash of emotions.

Everything that you felt like had been away, came slowly swimming.

An old blush came on your cheeks as Embry’s hands eventually pulled you close and moved your body with his to the music.

You didn’t want the song to be over. But, you already knew better. Stepping back with a small smile, you say, “I’m going to find my friends.”

You walk away before he could speak out, the transition of the next song was being blasted.

They were dancing with people they had gotten to know. Sighing a bit, you tried to socialize, seeing who else you could buddy up with.

They all just wanted to drink or take a shot. You didn’t want to get shit faced.

“Who are you going to kiss on the countdown?” he asks you as he stood close to you. Clearly feeling comfortable with the close distance since you two have danced.

“A drink.”

“That’s a waste.”

“What’s a waste?” you question and you fully face him and he’s wearing a handsome smile. You didn’t even realize how hard your heart was thumping until the silence fell into the air as he stared at your lips with hooded eyes.

You shake your head a bit as you felt like you were in a daze.

Sweaty bodies moved past you and you were back to the ugly reality.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” he asks with a hint of sadness.

You shake your head, “The day after tomorrow.” He nods and keep note in his head.

“I want to see you before you leave.” he says.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I feel like I missed out on so much.” he whispers back.

Before you could respond, some shouts out, “Oh my god! Turn down the music!” The music is staring to turn down and Embry grabs your hand before you could process it.

He pulls you as the countdown from 20 seconds started to ring out.

Embry turns and counts down, “10…”

You catch on finally on, “5…”

By 3, you both are smiling and yelling with the rest of the room and shout, “Happy New Years!”

Cheering emerged and everyone held each other’s faces as they were pressed into each other. Laughing a bit, you see your friends occupied and you felt your chin being moved over and you were watching Embry’s face that was now in your view.

Inches turned into centimeters and before you both knew it, you shared your lips with Embry. You let him taste yours because he let you taste his.

The burning of your cheeks didn’t cool down when you guided some of your drunk friends in the car. You gave him your number and he did call.

He asks to see you. You go. After telling you his address, you knock on the hard wooden front door.

He opens it and looks happy to see you.

Your hands held up the wrapped covered gift.

You look to him as you both sat on his sofa.

“Open it.” he says.

You tear open the paper, your fingers slightly shaking.

You gasp a bit as you slightly smile.

It was a nicely sized stuffed animal that held a heart. It was wrapped good to where you wouldn’t have guessed. You lean over and give him a hug. He gladly returns it.

“I’m sorry, if I would’ve known you gotten me something, I would’ve got you something too.” you say as you look at the stuffed animal in your lap with appreciation.

“It’s alright.” he says and puts one arm behind you on the edge on the couch, “I have my gift here already.”

You look at him in confusion.

“Can we kiss again?” he asks. You look away and down at the gift he had gave you.

You shake your head a bit as you think and say, “If you would’ve asked me like two years ago, I would’ve hounded you.” you admit.

“I didn’t truly see what was in front of me.” he says.

“What changed? Why now and not then?” you ask.

He shifts to face you more on the couch, “I didn’t know what I want then. I know what I want now and it’s you.”

You just look at him. There was no hint of jokes, no hint of regret and most of all, no hint of shame.

“I wanted to let you know before you leave again.” he says. You nod in understanding.

“I don’t know.” you say. You felt confused.

“I’m sorry.” he says.

“It’s fine.” you say while smiling, “Where’d you get this?”

He tells you. He also told you how you were trapped in his mind as he was getting it.

“I wish we spent Christmas together.” he admits.

“That would’ve been nice..I suppose.” you say and look to him.

You lean and press a kiss of his cheek, you linger your lips there for a bit before pulling back.

He does the same, you huff out a nervous chuckle. He’s still close, he does it smoothly, placing his lips to yours as you watch him. You slowly close your eyes as you relish the feeling.

That what you two did. You both caught up with each other. Letting your lips show how much you both missed each other.

Your hand accidentally slipped under his shirt and you sighed before pulling back.

A sensual snack sounded off and he slowly opened his eyes and blinked at you.

“Im sorry.” you whisper.

“Do it again.” he says lowly and leans forward again. You let him take a hold of your mouth again, occupying your tongue with his.

He helped placed your hands back to his chest, under his shirt. You jumped slightly, from shock, when his lips leave open mouth kisses on your neck.

You small breathy noise escape from your slightly parted lips as your eyes closed at the tingling feeling that was now traveling to your collarbone.

His hands graced the bare skin that came from your slightly risen shirt. He graced a quick swipe of his thumb across your cheek as he then slowly rises your shirt.

Shirtless, you still felt warm. You sat in his lap as he cups your breasts as your back was pressed to his chest.

Your hips was grinding on the bulge that sat stiffly in between your legs.

“I want you.” he whispers. A kiss is heard as you felt the wet kiss on your neck. His hand snakes in front of you and circled his fingers on the sensitive covered nub. You wish he would take your panties off but he instead had you crying out. Crying out at what his fingers were doing. They were feeling how wet you were from just his fingers.

His fingers moved a part of your pantries to the side and rubbed his bare skin with yours. You arched your back and lean against him, your hips moving to make sure you feel every inch of his veiny flesh. Your center was making his flesh glossy as he stuck his tip in you, just a little at a time.

You wince. You squirm to get yourself comfortable as he holds himself to enter you.

You both move into his bedroom.

You both had gotten to know each other’s bodies well. You clutch to his back as his hips movements are rocking you painfully slow. You roll your eyes in ecstasy as you whine for him. He grunts in response and also keeps telling you, “I want you.”

[bleue-flora]

Found this in the museum; the chest is hidden behind a wall (possibly with a single block missing with an item frame over it-- not positive?) and not openable without breaking several blocks. No idea if anyone cares about a book from cEryn, a waiver from Fundy (not sure if c or cc), or cConnor's diary? But I thought it was interesting that this actually seems to be a second Sam Nook's Iron Will + an enchanted gapple! I've been keeping an eye out for books and neat things as I work on a weird little project (razing a huge chunk of the existing SMP and rebuilding it in the image of my insane AU). There's SO much weird stuff scattered around. Bad, why do you have all those farms (including a secret sheep pen??). Foolish, why did you not take down all that scaffolding everywhere. SAM, HOLY SHIT THAT'S SO MUCH OBSIDIAN <---someone attempting to get rid of the prison and increasingly baffled at the dedication it must have taken Sam Awesamdude you're crazy /pos

Ah yes, I found that as well (though I did not notice the item frames marking the spot from inside the museum, good work) and see what I found most interesting about it is that there is also a WARDEN ACCESS card and a book labeled Evidence that seems to be about Ranboo’s explosions:

suggesting it must be Sam Nook’s chest with some of Sam’s items for when he changes characters like the other chest I found [post], backed up by the second SAM NOOKS IRON WILL you noted. However, in addition to the odd items you mentioned that go against that theory there is also Ranboos first coal, The Disc Item Frames from the disc confrontation, and Eret’s shield, suggesting that maybe it’s actually Eret’s chest, which makes sense why it’s hidden in the wall of the museum. But then how does Eret have a WARDEN ACCESS Card or this Evidence book…

Either way, cool chest for sure :) and the Evidence book is very interesting.…

Good luck there is a LOT of hidden things and places. I do recommend @feyscape’s website [link] for a list of coordinates to all kinds of places. I didn’t notice the scaffolding as much, I mean I’ve noticed some around but I didn’t think it was all Foolish’s and I didn’t notice Bad’s farm and sheep pen either, though his house does have two secret rooms which is funny. Then again, I might just not have been paying attention lol (too focused on hidden chests and possible hidden Dream bases XD).

And yea… the prison sure is a lot of obsidian, but we do know some other people helped. Though before it was even done, in a conversation with Eret we learn that Sam had already spent 14 days (336hrs) working on it. (Is it any wonder cc!Sam is still memeing about the prison arc? I mean it’s his (and Dream’s) baby of course it’s going to be living in his head for awhile they spent so much time working on it (together).) but yea so much obsidian and I pity any one who wishes to tear it down, because I feel like based now many guardians are inside [post] it’s pretty impossible or at least would be very annoyingly hard and take ages (without some non-vanilla nuke)….

[diamondkat]

Regarding Alastor being redeemed, I have been seeing some posts regarding how it can happen that trigger an instant ick reaction from me. I have taken time to think about why I keep having such a strongly negative reaction to it. The first thing I took into consideration is that I really do not want my current favourite bad boy to become good. I am first and foremost a villain fan and his becoming good has a high chance of ruining the character for me. This means that there is a chance that I would dislike any theory that ends with Alastor redeemed. A lot of time you see people making arguments for why a ship or character should not be liked when the real reason is they personally don't like it and the reasons are merely support. I try to make sure I am aware of my personal bias.

Regardless of my personal bias, I have decided that there is one particular theory regarding how Alastor can be redeemed that I hate from the bottom of my heart. It is the theory where Alastor after being humiliated, degraded and losing everything including his pride has no choice but to accept Charlie's care and change for the better. Sometimes it involves betraying the hotel first, but generally involves him being unable to deal with the challenges that he faces. I am sure how this works in the minds of those who like this theory makes perfect sense. He can no longer rely on himself, he sees that he isn't capable of anything and now has no choice but to become what Charle wants him to be. I hate it so much. I have kept turning it over in my mind and I think I have figured out all the reasons why separate from my bias.

First, suffering doesn't make people better. It just doesn't. The theory seems to require enough suffering to rewrite Alastor's personality and make him Charlie's puppet. It also reminds me of William Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. The story of how the proud woman was broken down to make her obedient. She might be "better" but it also felt to me like she died and became a puppet. He would be "redeemed" but that wouldn't be Alastor. It would just be something that looks like him. I just feel like fans of Alastor who like this theory don't realise that he would lose everything that pulled them to him in the first place if this happened. Some could not deal with him being less energetic in the main show than the pilot due to him being bored. How would they deal with what would essentially be a hollow creature wearing his face trying to become good because there is nothing left in him?

Second, with a proud character you can't brute force them into letting people in. Part of the idea of the theory is that after he is humiliated and suffers in front of them, he will drop his smile and be forced to let others in. That doesn't make sense to me. We have already seen in S1E8, how Alastor deals with things not going his way. He holds onto what little control he has by refusing to drop his smile and holding onto his pride while going through a breakdown. The best way to get someone like Alastor as far as I am concerned is to deal with him the same way you would deal with a wild animal. Slowly lower their guard. I think Charlie is already doing that whether Alastor knows it or not. Besides, pride is an important part of the character. Pride is part of what drew me to the character in the first place. The kind of pride that makes a person think it is okay to say, "If I wanted to hurt anyone here I would have done so already" in front of the Princess of Hell, is part of what drew me to Alastor. If he lost it, the character would likely immediately lose all appeal to me. So, there is some personal bias there.

It would make sense to me if the theory was more about Alastor learning that he can rely on others and doesn't have to depend solely on himself which leads to him opening up and letting others in. However, the theory leans very heavily into suffering as a way to make him a better person and a complete erasure of everything that makes up the character through suffering to make him into someone who wants and is worthy of redemption. That's fine for fanfiction but I hope it never becomes canon.

[purecommemasolitude]

Johnny Cade who endured so much suffering and violence and pain leaving behind a legacy first and foremost of kindness and hope you are so special to me

[al-luviec]

compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)

meh HoT gifs (3/?)

[nexus-nebulae]

another childhood bucket list item obtained: i finally have a snuggie

[ambersky0319]

I'm debating if it would just be easier to get a whole new phone/phone number and just have my grandpa cancel my line once I get it