#||| chances are i had something written up but went offline before i was able to send it

[visionsofus]

Hi! I hope I’m not bothering you but I was wondering if you’ve written Wanda’s first reaction to Vision’s human shimmer before?

hi! you'd never be bothering me! sorry this took a bit for me to get around to - my response ended up being a lot more long winded than I meant! thank you for reaching out with this, at the time I hadn't written anything like that but now I have ~ hope you enjoy 🥰

my inbox is open for anything and everything scarletvision

I just see you

synopsis: Vision hasn't seen Wanda in nearly a year, not since they both decided the danger was too great and they needed to go their separate ways. But he's still her emergency contact, so when Wanda ends up in hospital, Vision is the first to hear. Frantic, he travels to France, desperate to see her safe and harbouring hope that they might yet reconcile.

words: 4,140

read on AO3 here

There was a ringing coming from Vision’s bedroom.

It took a few shrill rings for him to realise that the noise wasn’t coming from inside his own head. Vision had been so wrapped up in his research that he hadn’t resurfaced for hours. It was a jarring thing to do all at once, to leave the carefully regulated interior of his mind and appear back in the physical world once more.

The ringing continued and Vision glanced around, his eyes adjusting quickly. Morning had quickly turned to evening and the pale walls of his room were lit up amber by the sunset.

The source of the sound was quickly discovered in the depths of his wardrobe, hidden within a pocket of a jacket he rarely wore. Vision fished the small flip phone out, anxiously. It had been a gift and the only person who knew its number hadn’t spoken to him in months.

Recalling that telephones only rang for a set time Vision hurriedly answered, lest it run through to the voicemail he’d never had cause to set up.

“Hello?” He said hesitantly, straining his ears to hear the person on the other line. The environment behind sounded busy, he could hear many voices piling on top of one another in chorus.

“Monsieur Maximoff?” The voice on the other side of the phone sounded stern, but unfamiliar. She was also speaking French. Vision did not know anyone who spoke French.

“I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?” Vision asked, fumbling for what to say and desperately grasping at the internet for a French translator. Mr Maximoff? He thought, who on earth was he talking to and how had they come across his number.

“Ah, Anglais.” The voice sounded more distant, as though she were talking to someone else. She returned, this time speaking in English with a heavy French accent. “Am I speaking to Mr Maximoff?”

Vision wasn’t sure what else he could say. “Yes, yes, you are. I’m so sorry, who is this?”

He was just about to trace the caller’s IMEI but the woman at the other end provided him with all the information he needed.

“Bonjour, Mr Maximoff. I am calling from the Toulouse University Hospital,” she said.

“Toulouse,” Vision repeated in astonishment. “Toulouse, France?”

“Yes, Monsieur,” she replied, sounding slightly vexed. “We had a patient brought in earlier tonight and you were listed as her emergency contact. Her condition is stable, but she had a hit to the head. We’ve observed her for a few hours, and she seems fine, but we wanted to advise you of the incident so you might pick her up.”

Vision breath caught in his throat as fear gripped his heart.

“To clarify,” Vision said shakily, “you are speaking of Wanda.”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay?”

He must have sounded rather strangled in his panic for when the woman spoke again her words were measuredly more soothing. “She is perfectly fine, Mr Maximoff. Just a bit shaken up with some light bruising and an abrasion on her forehead. We would like to monitor her overnight and if everything is okay, we can discharge her in the morning. Can you come to the hospital for then?”

“Of course!” Vision said frantically. “I can be there soon.”

She ended the call with a pleasantry in French that he didn’t recognise, but he was already on the move. He thought about leaving the phone behind, but decided it was better to have it near him in case the hospital called again.

Vision’s form blurred as he darted about the room grabbing at bits and pieces, he thought he might need. He wanted to travel light but also didn’t want to be caught unawares. He withdrew the travel bag he kept in his nightstand which contained any identification he needed to appear human. Vision had gotten his driver’s license once he had started making more solo trops and Tony had thought it useful. Vision obviously hadn’t taken the test itself; he was a better driver than any human and a test wasn’t needed to prove that.

He also retrieved his passport and the credit card he seldom needed to use. None of these listed his real identity, mind you. Instead, they displayed his human glamour with his pale skin and a head of sandy blond hair.

There was no way he could travel under his true identity without being clocked by the authorities as operating without the Accords’ instruction. Vision doubted that visiting your ex in hospital counted as noble activities that the United Nations would look favourably upon in the event he was caught. Especially when that ex happened to be an international fugitive.

With his ID secured and slipped safely into the pocket of his jacket, Vision made for the door. He was out of the compound before the building’s AI had the chance to trigger the system and notify Tony that someone had crossed the property line.

Vision had never had cause to test his super speed over such extensive distances. There had always been easier alternatives for travel.

Thankfully, progress went fast. Though it was frustrating having to stop at ever major border or airspace to disappear offline so he couldn’t be identified as a hostile flying object. When he did have secure connection, Vision kept an eye on the news in Toulouse, terrified that Wanda might be discovered. So far, the feed was quiet, and Vision had to rest on the assurance that the woman he had spoken with on the phone had said nothing to indicate she was suspicious of Wanda.

In the end, Vision managed to make it to France in just over two hours, having had to detour over the North Atlantic to avoid some nasty weather. Staying low to the ground and mostly hidden under the cover of night, he risked getting within two miles of the hospital before returning to the ground.

Vision ducked down an alley and took a moment to hide in the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy on putting on the shimmer that made him appear human. It slipped into place easily. Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, Vision ensured he looked relatively presentable before heading back out onto the streets of Toulouse.

It was an excruciatingly slow walk, but Vision knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention by walking any quicker than a human. Even in the early hours of the morning, Toulouse still had life to it. There were a few too many watchful eyes than he could be comfortable with. Even knowing that no one on this side of the world had seen his human form, it was still difficult to put the fear to rest.

Vision quickened his pace marginally as he reached the hospital’s entrance, figuring it might seem normal enough to hurry given where he was. In his head he reminded himself over and over that this was normal. He was here because he had received a call about his ‘partner’ who had been hospitalised. Vision felt sick even as he thought it.

Inside the brightly lit ground floor was a round desk with bright green letters hanging above that said la réception.Sitting behind the desk were three nurses. Vision caught the attention of the nearest and smiled politely.

“Bonjour,” Vision said, the language sounding strange in his mouth, “je suis ici pour Ms Maximoff.”

The nurse leant forward to catch Vision’s quiet tone. He was hesitant about using the last name ‘Maximoff’ and wondered why on earth Wanda hadn’t given them a false name.

“Ah,” the nurse’s eyes lit up in recognition and she turned to call over her shoulder, “Louise?”

Another nurse came around to the reception and as she rattled off something in French Vision recognised her as the stern woman who had spoken with him on the phone.

“Mr Maximoff?” She said with a welcoming smile.

“Yes,” Vision said hesitantly, “oui.”

“I though you would come by in the morning—”

Vision opened his mouth to provide reasoning for coming so quickly. He had forgotten how difficult it was, having to lie all the time when he was with Wanda.

“—but I understand you must have been very worried. If you would please follow me.”

Vision shut his mouth tightly, perhaps it was better to say less and let them assume more. The nurse turned away and walked down a long corridor to a set of lifts. She called one down and the doors opened with a chime, before gesturing for Vision to get in. As he stepped in, Vision let his hands brush against the control panel and shuddered slightly as he was absorbed into the hospital’s security system. It felt wrong, but it was better than risking someone having recognised Wanda already. Vision scrubbed through the security, uploaded a match of Wanda’s face and proceeded to edit all visual of her from the camera’s history. The system was too limited to even realise what was happening, let alone retaliate.

“Could you please explain what happened?” Vision asked politely as they reached the fourth floor and the elevator doors opened once more.

“I’m afraid I do not know much more than what I told you over the phone,” Louise said. “She was brought in about seven hours ago with a few other patients from a car accident. A vehicle lost control on the motorway and took out several other cars with it. A bit of a mess I am afraid.”

Lousie caught sight of Vision’s horrified face. “Not that Ms Maximoff was badly hurt,” she said hurriedly, “she is perfectly fine, and we will be able to let her out in the morning.”

Vision breathed out shakily as he was led down a brightly lit corridor. “Thank you.”

“Do not worry,” Louise gave Vision a comforting smile and stopped in front of a nondescript door. “You’re welcome to stay until morning though don’t tell anyone that I let you in out of visitor hours. There is a canteen on the ground floor, but it does not open until 7 I am afraid.”

“That’s alright, it won’t be a problem,” Vision said with a smile, eager to get inside the room and out of view of prying eyes. “Thank you for all your help.”

“D’accord,” Louise said her eyes crinkling in another smile and waving her hand, dismissing his thanks genially.

Vision managed to wait until she had retreated down the corridor before steeling himself and letting his human glamour fall. He did not want to see Wanda as anyone but himself.

As Vision erased himself from the corridor, he took the first step into Wanda’s cramped hospital room. The space smelt sterile, even to him and it was so wholly unwelcoming that Vision’s heart seized at the idea of Wanda spending hours here alone.

It seemed she wasn’t as troubled, instead lying sound asleep in the hospital bed. With the bed propped as it was, Wanda’s face was bathed in the light peeking through the blinds as car headlights flew past. Vision peered at her face intently, surveying the damage.

There was a graze across her forehead and a couple of stitches in her chin, but otherwise no other outwards injuries. There was a clipboard attached to the end of the hospital bed and Vision picked it up quietly to assess the doctor’s notes. It was in French, and shorthand at that, but he managed to decipher the words with the aid of his translator. MTBI. A mild traumatic brain injury, Vision thought. He knew it sounded much worse than it was and was comforted by the doctor’s following notes: no further cognitive symptoms, keep overnight, review in morning before discharge.

So there really was nothing else wrong. It was reassuring and he felt much better now that he was standing before Wanda’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling steadily.

It was only then that Vision realised precisely how long it had been since he had last seen her. 8 months. Three seasons had passed since she had pushed him out of her life for good and he had let her. Wanda had sworn she didn’t want to see him again, and Vision had let it happen. He’d regretted the argument ever since it had happened

Now here he was, her unassuming emergency contact after a car accident. What if it had been something more final, what if that call had been made to deliver more devastating news, what would he have done?

Vision didn’t waste time pursuing such guilty thoughts further, instead going to Wanda’s side and sitting in the chair beside the bed. As he reached out for her hand, laying still atop the scratchy hospital blanket, he knew it was where he was supposed to be. As he took her hand her fingers twitched, registering the contact.

When Vision looked up, Wanda’s eyes were open, if slightly bleary. She blinked slowly in the darkness.

“Vis?” She whispered, her voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

“Yes,” Vision replied, desperately wishing he could reach out and take her into his arms but knowing it was not his place to do so. Not unless she invited him to.

“It feels like you,” Wanda smiled and closed her eyes again, squeezing his hand. “I wish you were here.”

Vision frowned and wrapped both hands around hers. “I am here.”

Wanda stilled and Vision felt his hands grow warm and the familiar feeling of Wanda’s power. Perhaps just confirming it was him, or maybe it was a more involuntary reaction.

She sat up abruptly. “You shouldn’t be here!” The movement had apparently been too quick for her as Wanda winced and raised a hand to her forehead in pain. Vision jumped to his feet once more and helped her lie back down on her pillows.

“How did you get here?” Wanda asked, now wide awake and staring up at him.

“They called me,” Vision said slowly, trying his best not to distress her further. He thought about moving away from the bed to give her space, but she had grabbed a hold of his wrist and didn’t seem keen on releasing it. After so long without hearing her voice, Vision was content to stay as close as she would allow.

“The accident, was it bad?” He asked.

“Honestly,” Wanda said slowly, “I don’t really remember. It happened so quickly, nothing like a real fight. Just a flash of metal and I was lying on the curb. It barely touched me, but the paramedics insisted I come to the hospital.”

“As they should,” Vision said, unable to keep the distress from his voice. “What if something worse had happened? You really never know with head injuries…”

“Well, I feel fine now,” Wanda said relaxing somewhat amongst the cushions. “Did they tell you when I can leave?”

“In the morning,” Vision replied, “as long as the doctor checks you one last time before you leave.”

Wanda didn’t seem happy at the prospect of having to stay any longer than necessary but at least she didn’t push him to break her out of the hospital.

“I didn’t realise I was still your emergency contact,” Vision said quietly, looking intently at the mattress.

Wanda sighed quietly. “If you’re asking if there’s anyone else, there’s not.”

Vision stiffened. “I wasn’t prying.”

A few moments of silence passed by. “That doesn’t explain why I was listed as Vision Maximoff in your contacts.”

Wanda groaned and finally released his wrist, using her hand to instead cover her face in embarrassment. She sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I was young, hopeful and in love.”

“That wasn’t that long ago,” Vision smiled, half-heartedly trying to joke past the growing discomfort in his chest. He hated that she used the past tense when talking about them.

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugged, “well a lot has changed. Being a fugitive changes things.”

Vision nodded, though he knew he’d never really understand what the last year had been for Wanda. “I hope it does not change everything.” He spoke slowly, afraid of saying something that might make her ask him to leave. “My feelings have not changed.”

Wanda bit her lip but seemed to be fighting off something like a smile. “Mine haven’t either.”

Hearing this made Vision breathe easily for what felt like the first time in months. Despite the circumstances, he was here beside her. Wanda was safe, light bruising aside, and through it all she somehow still loved him.

“I know things will always be complicated, but I hope you’ll think about letting me back into your life again,” Vision said softly, taking Wanda’s hand in his again. “It does not matter in what way or form, as long as I can be near you.”

“I’d like that,” Wanda said, her words barely above a whisper. Her chest shuddered as she yawned, wincing again as she shifted her head.

“You should rest. We can talk in the morning.”

Wanda nodded and let her eyes flutter close.

Vision stayed up for the last few hours of the night, a loyal shadow at Wanda’s side. All the while he counted down the minutes until they could leave and he could see Wanda safely to her house, wherever it was she was staying in Toulouse. It concerned him that Steve and the others probably hadn’t heard about Wanda’s accident, and he hoped they weren’t losing their minds with worry. There was another part of him that thought Wanda might be alone in France, she had always preferred staying in Europe when her small band of fugitives went their separate ways. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

It was foolish for Vision to hope, but he was starting to think the best way for this day to end was with him in Wanda’s bed. Of course, logically he knew they weren’t there yet. Even Wanda’s admission the night before to allow him back in her life felt like enough. But it was difficult to curb 8 months of longing.

As the clock ticked past 6am and the sky began to lighten behind the blinds Vision waited patiently, not wanting to disturb the rest Wanda so clearly needed. She had never been a quiet sleeper, always tossing and turning and mumbling in dreams. Vision was well accustomed with her habits, so it was unnerving to observe her stillness. But her breathing remained steady through until dawn. The only time Wanda had shifted was to roll onto her side, pulling their hands, which had found each other in the night, closer towards her.

Wanda finally woke around 7 and Vision busied himself by pretending to peer out the blinds and observe the street below.

“How are you feeling?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing the sheets rustle as Wanda sat up.

“Better now,” she mumbled. “But ready to get out of this place, I’d rather not risk it with the authorities in France again.”

Vision hated the way that Wanda said again. What had really happened in the months he hadn’t heard from her?

“No need to worry, I’ve removed you from security camera footage and before we leave, I’ll scrub us from the system again.”

Wanda rubbed at her eyes as she slipped out of the hospital bed. “Give me a chance to splash my face and change and we can get going.”

“No rush,” Vision murmured but it felt untrue. There was a rush. Even if he did remove them from the records there was no saying that a member of staff wouldn’t eventually recognise the name Maximoff and tell the authorities. Yes, the sooner they were out of the hospital, the better.

While Wanda was freshening up, Vision gathered her meagre belongings. Her necklaces, rings and phone had been left in a plastic tray on the bedside table. With everything safely in his pockets Vision slipped back into the hospital’s security system. From what he could tell, no alerts had been tripped but then again he didn’t know if the hospital had a specific code for ‘there’s an international fugitive on premises call the police’. Vision knew the hospital was nearly at capacity based on the records he had looked at, so the chances that their faces would stick out of everyone felt unlikely.

Nevertheless, it was better safe than sorry and there was no way they wouldn’t draw attention with him looking as he was. Once again, Vision closed his eyes and visualised his human shimmer, shivering as it fell into place. His skin tickled as his hair fell onto his forehead and Vision reached up to run a hand through it, a mannerism he had never had reason to practice but had seen others perform.

The bathroom door creaked as Wanda closed it behind her. It was a relief to see her out of the hospital gown and in something more Wanda.

“Vis how are you going to—” As she turned and caught sight of him, Wanda’s voice caught in her throat. She brought both hands to her mouth in astonishment.

Vision suddenly grew shy. Of course, Wanda had never seen him like this, of course it would be a shock. Did she even recognise him?

“It’s still me,” Vision said hurriedly, whether for her sake or his he couldn’t be sure. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck as Wanda’s eyes continued to search his face in disbelief.

“I know,” she finally said, approaching him slowly. “I can tell it’s you.”

Just as she reached him the door to the hospital room slid open and a young woman entered.

“Bonjour,” Vision said hurriedly, taking a few steps back from Wanda and turning his attention to the doctor. Wanda’s eyes remained on Vision right up until the doctor approached her and asked her to do a few simply exercises. When she was sure that motor function was normal, they were told they were free to leave and to go down to the reception to begin the process of checking out. The doctor made Wanda promise to return to the hospital if she began experiencing anything like memory loss or migraines.

With the doctor gone once more, Wanda spun on Vision, getting far closer to him than she had yet. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, frowning.

“This is new.”

Vision nodded against her hand, relishing this one touch that he had spent months dreaming about. “I started working on this as soon as I left…”

He didn’t need to explain more and saw Wanda’s gaze grow shadowed as she presumably recalled their fight. It had been about their safety around each other, it always was. Wanda had been angry about Vision being put at risk around her, and he had been annoyed about the same thing for her. It had been so difficult to hide and meet up every few weeks back then, especially when Vision was so recognisable, and Wanda was being broadcasted around the globe. When Wanda had finally insisted on breaking things off, Vision had agreed. He’d returned to the compound and spent a week perfecting his new human mirage. It was all in the hopes that when she next called him things would be easier. But she hadn’t called.

“Do you have a—” Vision swallowed nervously, “—a preference?”

Wanda tilted her head curiously, “I don’t mind this new glamour, either way it’s you. But I prefer the you you.”

Vision tried to hide his relief as he raised his hand to Wanda’s which was still pressed to his cheek. Her thumb was running curiously circles over his skin. Carefully, cautiously, he took her hand and pressed his mouth to the back of her knuckles. The gesture’s effect was immediate, and Wanda closed her eyes.

“I miss being close to you,” she whispered, as they gravitated closer together. “I could imagine you; I could see you were safe on the news but nothings the same as having you here under my hands.”

Well, she’d had one more assurance than him at least.

It didn’t take much for Vision to pull her closer, hooking an arm around her waist and letting his human glamour fall. She sunk into his embrace, as he had imagined her doing for months and Vision wrapped his arms securely around her.

“Please don’t ask me to leave,” he said, strained.

“Alright,” Wanda said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck.

She drew back and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Vision’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him as her mouth moved softly against his own, something he hadn’t let himself dream of doing ever again.

Wanda smiled against his mouth. “We’re sticking together from now on.”

[qupshalfempty]

Written as a not yet established relationship but mutual pining. It got so lovey dovey my heart hurt while writing this. It's very rough around the edges due to not writing for so long, but I hope y'all like it!

108. “Shh… You need to be quiet.” W/ Ultra Magnus and a Cybertronian! SO

Walking out of my berth room I was immediately met with the distant voices of both Optimus and Magnus. Following the voices in curiosity, I entered the main room of the base standing behind both of them as they mentioned a mission, an energon mine and.. My name? Before I could greet them their attention's on me. Never being the subject of their gazes so intensely, I gave them a lopsided tilt of my dermas.

“What’s going on?”

...

The glowing light from the portal fades behind Magnus and I as our pedes stepped off of the concrete floor of the base and onto the stick littered forest floor set in front of us. The forest was dense, light from the Earth’s star struggling to shine through the canopy above. Many of the planet’s smaller life forms were skittering away disappearing deeper into the woods, most certainly running from our sudden appearance.

Magnus paid them no mind, instead signaling me to follow him in I assume to be the direction of the abandoned energon mine we were to scout out. I trail silently behind him, already preparing for the long trek ahead of us..

Other than the occasional hand signals and “yes sir” from myself the travel had been near silent, the only other sounds coming from the crunching of tree limbs and brier under our pedes and the occasional animals nearby. I could do nothing but let my processor wander, distracted from the mission at hand.

The gleams of light cast from the sun painted what parts of the forest floor it could touch with golden strokes. At times his plating would catch the light and reflect against the leaves and other flora he’d push past in reds and blues… This would be romantic if we'd actually said more than a couple phrases to each other. I could only hope for that to change and for him to acknowledge me with more than just small smiles and hidden softness from the rest of the team.

I silently thanked scouting missions like these, allowing me more time around 'Magnus than usually allotted for his position. It gave me the chance to enjoy his presence and what soft smiles he'd offer when we were alone, which has been the only sign of any feelings returned on his part. I’d only hoped it wasn’t out of politeness and rather returned feelings anyway, just the thought is what’s stopped me from confessing much earlier.. While it’s been pointed out plenty of times how different he acts around me and how much more gentle he is towards me... It’s hard to believe he’d return any feelings, or would want to pursue a bond when one of us could be offlined any klick while fighting this war. Although I’d take whatever time I had left to be with him… By the All Spark I’m in deep.

Next thing I know, my left pede hits a displaced root and I'm sent tumbling forward into a familiar blur of red and blue. Just barely catching myself with my servos on… Magnus’ back plating… I jolted backward, ripping my servos from his back like they'd touched rust, and shakily righted myself. He jumped in surprise, snapping his helm back in my direction with widened optics before his optic ridges down turned in his signature stern look. I withered under his stare with an awkward chuckle before he finally gave what I assume to be a sigh and an attempt at a softer look that was really just one of neutrality for him. 

"Be more careful."

Turning away without waiting for an answer, he continues. I hesitantly follow albeit much farther behind so I don’t embarrass myself again. After an estimated half an hour of awkward silence, he pushes a tree limb out of his way and stops in his tracks. 

"We're here." 

Magnus was already crouched behind some thickened shrubbery, giant enough to hide his stature, and was looking towards an opening in the lower brier's branches he had held back. Peering over his shoulder was a cave's entrance a little ways away, hidden near perfectly from sight with the dense woods surrounding it. Peaking out of the tall grass thoroughly covering the vicinity of the entrance was mining equipment and empty carts overgrown with vines. They were most definitely left behind. Thankfully we had coordinates or we would have never found this. Not that I would've minded being around Magnus longer anyway… I quickly shook my helm, ridding my thoughts away.

"We should comm the others." I whispered, focused completely on the cave and not on the inexistent distance of our shoulder plates. My fans whirred.

He nodded, already a step ahead of me with his servos to his audials.

"Ratchet, the coordinates were correct. It appears abandoned, we'll be on lookout."

"Affirmative." I hear Ratchet grumble.

Magnus then turned his helm to me and raised an optic ridge, realizing how close we were, I shove myself back as calm as possible for someone’s who’s fan’s volume turned to that of a garbage disposal. He either didn’t notice or mercifully said nothing and instead continued in his usual stern tone.

"We’ll be scouting the area for any decepticon activity."

"So.. we'll be here a while?"

"Yes."

…

After the equivalent of 3.5 earth hours and a detailed dirt drawing followed by a reprimand from Magnus about "leaving behind tracks"… I got bored. Being on a recon mission with my spark lighter, without any plot going on, was uninteresting to say the least... He didn't make an effort to talk, his steady focus solely on the cave and the wind blowing the shrubbery. The only sounds that could be heard was the chirping of birds and someone's fans kicking on.. that wasn't mine for once.

Looking up from my plating was Magnus' helm darting away from my direction and back towards the mine. Was he looking at me? 

Luckily, my fans had no time to react as Magnus held his left servo up, a silent command to stay still and quiet. He glared down at the entrance before giving the signal to follow.

He pushed his way past the shrubbery and slid down the cliff side we'd been securely perched on. I followed close behind, letting him lead a path through the straw like grass.

Now usually I don't question his orders, but this was meant as a simple scout mission, a "stake out" as the humans vids would say, and we comm base to come pick up the energon once it's deemed safe. But this seems to be quite risky for someone who's so.. well the complete opposite. 

I ran every scenario through my processor as we continued deeper. Maybe he heard something? I'd thought he'd comm back to base and let them know. But our job is to see if it's abandoned right? So we’d have to confirm if it is, although just the two of us and no backup? Whatever it was, I'm sure Magnus has a good reason. 

By now we were in deep, the only light we had to shine our way was our optics and from what little energon there was left behind in the walls. I was barely able to stop my chassis from touching his back when he suddenly stopped and motioned me to look into the wide open room ahead. My optics brightened at the sight.

Inside was a huge cavern with the walls and ceiling filled to the brim with energon, full of huge deposits that were barely touched. Carts full of even more glowing energy cubes were ready to be rolled out. For sure able to power our small team for a long while. Oddly enough the machines were trapped in vines and aimed at a wall full of energon, two more were aimed at another, covered in the same vines.. 

It's unbelievable that something drove the Decepticons out, especially with all of this energon ready to leave… But from the looks of it, it seems all of the abandoned machinery hasn’t been touched in a while...

"We should comm base-"

One of the drills far ahead cuts Magnus' whisper off, it turns on and attempts to cut into the rock around an energon deposit before groaning as it struggles against the vines holding it captive. Suddenly a Decepticon enters from one of the nearby halls and expects it, grumbling something along the lines of "fast growing.." and "damned flora.." while tearing the vines off...

We both duck behind the rock wall at the bot's appearance, Magnus’ throwing his arm back to push me behind him. Luckily the decepticon took no notice, ripping what little vines were left off before the drill’s shrill sounds started up again. Magnus looked over towards me and started to signal before he was stopped short by the sudden sounds of pede steps coming from behind us. Our only exit. 

My optics widen, I look to him for orders only to see the same surprise in his. He turns to me fully looking around the dark tunnel before his optics catch something behind me and pushes me backward into it. With no time to react my back plating hits a hard rock wall, reflexively letting out a muffled 'humph!' into someone's servos.

"Shh… you need to be quiet." 

Turning on my optics at the voice I was met with Magnus' chassis, and slowly trailing up his clavicular plate, his neck cabling, and finally his face were his optics gazing down at me inches away from my own helm. One of his servos covering my dermas while the other was pressed firmly against my side with what little space there was. I didn't dare speak, not with the pedes slowly getting closer or the intense stare of Magnus'. Looking at my surroundings before my fans kicked on, we were in near complete darkness if not for our optics. From what else I could make out we were in a small enough crevice for the both of us and surrounded by rock on all sides other than the tight opening I’d been pushed through. Magnus' form towered over me, keeping me from peeking out of the crevice he'd somehow shoved us both in. Daring to peer at his face I can make out his optics slowly dimming.

"Shut off your optics."

A shudder went down my spinal frame at the demand but I obeyed, hoping he wouldn't notice. Knowing how close our frames were and how intertwined our limbs were, he most definitely did.

We both stood stock still as the sounds grew closer, the voices complaining about the flora destroying nearly all of their equipment and setting them back by 7 Earth days. The panic built up pressure in my chassis, knowing they’d soon be passing us. The only thing grounding me was Magnus’ rough digits pressed into my coxal plating and dangerously close to grazing the side of my pelvic plate. I’d forced my fans to shut off despite the heat emerging from both of our frames.

A rock being kicked from a pede step just outside our makeshift cover made me flinch, something I dare not risk illuminating my optics to see pressed into my forehelm. I stood stock still, reaching out and clenching something to ease my jitters as we listened in the dark.

After the longest klick of my life, the sounds of pedes slowly fade away further into the cave. I only allowed my shoulders to relax when the cave around us was fully silent, I slowly turned on my optics before widening them in surprise from the helm inches away from mine for yet the third time this Earth cycle….

Magnus' forehelm was pressed against mine, his helm cast down and his features being the most peaceful I've ever seen them. Not a hint of his signature crease of irritation between his optic ridges, you'd nearly think he were recharging if not for the heat I felt on my own helm emanating from his.

I could do nothing, not able to move away even if I wanted to due to the rock keeping me trapped from behind. Instead, I stayed still. His optics slowly turned on, meeting mine before looking downwards. I followed his gaze to find the object I'd grabbed in the dark, my servos were tightly clenched around his digits. Before I could instinctively pull back and apologize, his digits wrapped firmly around my servos, three of his digits able to cover my entire servos fully. He’d made no move to push away, instead keeping our frames pressed together. My sensors were off the charts, at times sensing his thumb run over my outer plating along my hip.

I didn't know what to do, so I followed his lead instead. Not able to keep his gaze for long I tucked my forehelm into his chassis and we stayed that way for what felt like megacycles until we heard loud pede steps and the shooting of blasters coming close. Soon enough we recognized Optimus' and Ratchet's voices from close by. By then I knew we definitely took too long to comm back and I'm not planning on explaining what happened.

[multi-labyrinth]

💧 what goes around comes back around to you 🔪

Feelz!Wiblur & reader x dream, FEELZ AU!!! Credit to @gamerboykarl for her absolutely amazing fanfic feelz it’s so so so good please read it!! I was given permission by Lex to make a mini AU fic

Word count: 1238

Summery: Feelz!Wilbur pushes (Y/n) to her boiling point and gets to see how intense SHE can be.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and violence, aggressive name calling, and just a more mature fic. There’s also blood in the video down below!!! Animated only!!!!

Gifs are from perfect blue and Kakegurui

Pronouns: she/her, (same as the og fic)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Wilbur hadn’t gotten any better than before. If anything was only getting worse and worse.

He can’t even leave (Y/n) alone to do her own fucking shit for even a god damn minute!! She feels lucky she can still go to the bathroom alone for a few minutes a day.

To think she genuinely thought this could work again, how stupid (Y/n) feels can’t even be expressed. But now that’s not something to focus on, right now the plan is just to finally get up and completely leave.

She talked to another friend and would be staying at her house until (Y/n)‘s flight to Florida. Not willing to put up with Wilbur for another fucking night of she might loose it.

When Wilbur was busy streaming that was the perfect time to be packing her shit up. Knowing he’d be busy for a few hours (Y/n) took a bit of time to have a bath.

God. How much Wilbur absolutely infuriated (Y/n) before she was actually captivated by him. Wilbur was a handsome, seemingly sweet, caring, dorky man. But as with a lot of creeps, his darkness was hell hidden from the public.

(Y/n) took a deep breath in before putting her head a little but beneath the warm water. She let out a few muffled screams out into the water causing bubbles to come up to the surface. Doing that a few times barely let out all of the emotions

(Y/n) was keeping on lock down, not wanting to waste more time she got out of the bath to finish up.

Her bags sat near the door as she finished tying her hair up into a bun. (Y/n) was grabbing her bags as Wilbur left his office. “What…are you doing (Y/n)?” He asked innocently, his stupid god Damn fake “sweet guy” act made her roll her eyes back feeling herself physically cringe at his lies.

“Oh fuck off Wil, I’m fucking leaving!!” (Y/n) shouts turning around to face the creep she’d been staying with for the past few weeks.

His expression had changed from a soft warm to a hard cold look. He didn’t like that answer, and she didn’t give a flying fuck.

“What did you say?” Wil asked calmly, but something felt like this composure wouldn’t last long.

“I said I’m fucking leaving your creepy ass!! Holy fuck!! You can’t even get off my ass for two fucking minutes unless your filming!!! You entitled bitch I’m so god damn fucking tired of your shit!!!” (Y/n) shouts at him.

He was slightly taken aback, he’d never seen you get like this. Wilbur thought if he doubled down you’d back down. “Oh really? Where the fuck will you go?!? You’re just going to be homeless on the streets in a completely different country?!?! Yeah right dumb bitch” Wilbur says, but this was only escalating the situation.

“Excuse me?! Who thE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING A DUMB BITCH??? WHEN ITS YOU THAT CANT HANDLE BEING ALONE FOR A FEW FUCKING MINUTES WITHOUT CRYING OUT LIKE A FUCKING BABY!!! IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE?? A BIG STUPID MAN BABY?!?! BECAUSE TO ME YOU HAVE LITTLE PISS BABY BITCH WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR STUPID FUCKING FACE!!!” You yell at him starting to not be able to hold yourself back.

“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING BITCH!!!” Wilbur yells back raising his right hand to make a strike.

But (Y/n) went into the kitchen drawers pulling a long knife out, it was not a butter knife. “Don’t fucking touch me!! Get any fucking closer and I swear to fucking god I will cut your cock and balls off and EAT THEM IN FRONT OF YOU!!!!” She scream in his face.

Wilbur genuinely believed (Y/n) was just bluffing, that she actually wouldn’t do anything to him. Because she couldn’t! So he says “Really now? Then who else would love you but me? Like seriously the only guys that actually find you hot are desperate neck beards who think they have a chance with you because you’re below average, which is me putting that nicely. You’re just a dirty cock sleeve cum dumpster and you need me just as I need you. No one loves you, not even Dream…especially Dream” he says, Wilbur knew he struck a cord with (Y/n) because of the hot tears that filled her eyes.

She kept eye contact for a solid 30 seconds, not saying anything or doing anything. Just silent trying to process what was said to her. Wilbur just made a huge mistake by saying that, because now (Y/n) can’t control the anger swarming around inside her.

The fire was now out of control, it was a chaotic forest fire that was starting and she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted too.

Wilbur blinked and then he felt a hot burning pain in his shoulder, owning his eyes to see a knife had been put into his arm. Barely a few seconds later the blade was forcibly removed causing blood to squirt up along Wil and (Y/n) “H-Holy fuck!!” He shakily cries out sliding down against the wall.

“Wilbur, I hope you understand now. That I can be just as if not even more terrifying than you’ll ever be. You think you know crazy? You didn’t. Not until now. Pull shit like this with anyone and I will track you down and torture you alive. Get therapy you toxic fuck.” (Y/n) explains in a tone that was more tired than anything, just exhausted of this bullshit. She spat in his face before getting back up on her feet taking her bags leaving the apartment.

The next week (Y/n) was at the airport in Miami waiting for her good “friend”

“(Y/n)!!” A male voice calls out, she turned around to see Clay running up into his open arms getting into a great big warm hug.

“Clay!!! Ahhh!!! I’m so happy to see you!!” She says laughing sweetly.

Once the two were in the car that was when Clay wanted to have a serious conversation. “…(Y/n)…we need to talk…” he says.

“Is…everything okay?…” she asked turning to face him, she took his hand into hers rubbing his palm reassuringly.

���I know something serious happened when you were at Wilbur’s…I won’t ask you to tell me until you’re sure you’re completely ready and comfortable too…but…if he hurt you and is now trying to hide it…I’d like to know…always know that I’m a safe space for you, you can tell me anything and I’ll still love you unconditionally (Y/n)…I…I’m sorry for whatever happened…but please let me know if you’re okay?…” Clay ended up rambling a lot and it become a whole ass monologue.

(Y/n) feels tears flood again, but this time for the complete opposite reason. “Oh hun…” she says softly pulling him into an embrace. “Thank you Clay…I’m okay now…I promise…” whispers in his ear.

(Y/n) pulls away “I also need to know…what do you mean “hide it” what did he do?” She asked wiping her eyes.

“Oh yeah…you went completely offline…Wilbur deactivated everything.” He answers.

“Everything?”

“Everything, all of his accounts are just completely wiped. He’s not on anything anymore.”

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Distraction

Title: Distraction Summary: Steve is working on an upcoming mission but he gets distracted by his girlfriend Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Prompt: #25 Phone Sex Warnings: SMUT +18 Word Count: 849 This was written for the Kinktober 2020 Challenge of @stargazingfangirl18​ A/N: This is my first time writing something full smutty. It’s a lot shorter compared to what I’m used to writing but this past week has been hell for me, and this is what I was able to pull out. I hope you like it and any tips/advice to write smut is welcome!

You were hanging out in your house on your day off, normally your days off you were with your boyfriend Steve, but today was different. He was at the Stark Tower, he had an important mission soon and he had to leave you. But that doesn’t mean you were on your own, yeah, you missed him but he was always texting you or calling you to let you know what he was doing or what you were doing. He wanted to keep the contact with you, in a way he didn’t want you to miss him.

It’s been almost a week since Steve left, and despite all the texts, calls, and pictures you exchange, you were missing his touch. His soft and delicate but rough touch, how he sent shivers down your spine, how he made you feel wanted, special. Your mind wandered on your steamy nights, making you feel needy, of him, his touch, his manhood.

Your thoughts were cut off when your phone vibrated, you knew it was Steve.

SR: Hey doll. How did you sleep today? YN: Hi love. Naked 😏 YN: Alone :pout: but good. you? SR: Oh doll… I miss you too. I’ll be back soon, I promise SR: Why are you sleeping naked? You are going to get sick YN: Because I miss you, and because I like it SR: What are your plans for today? YN: Well… I wanted to fuck you, but you’re not here, so I might do nothing SR: If you are going to do something, think of me 😏 YN: Always 😘 SR: I have a meeting in half an hour. Talk to you later. Love you

And with that, he stopped texting you. And now what were you supposed to do? You knew he wasn’t going to pick up his phone in at least 4 hours, depending on how long the briefing and the meeting were. You wanted to surprise him, but how? you weren’t sure if he was going to come home tonight, tomorrow, or in a week, and then you remembered.

You went to your shared room and saw the three little boxes in your closet. You had bought a few lingerie sets that Steve hasn’t seen yet. And then your mind lights up with an idea. You go to your closet and grab the boxes, you open them up on the bed and put on the first set, I snapped a few pictures. You did the same with the other three.

You waited until you were sure, the meeting was about to start and send him a message.

YN: What do you think about this? SR: Doll, the meeting is about to start, you know I can talk right now YN: Just let me know what do you think about that picture SR: Well... YN: And what about these two? SR: 🥵 YN: Don’t you like them, baby? SR: Babe, they are beautiful. Are those new? YN: Yeah. I didn’t have the chance to show them to you SR: I can’t wait to see them YN: It’s such a shame you will break them 😢 SR: I’m sorry I can’t handle myself with you, you are too perfect YN: Lucky for you I got this SR: You’ll be the death for me, my love SR: Make sure no one sees you wearing that YN: These are only for you SR: Dol,  you know what you're doing to me, right? YN: Yes, Captain. I do, and I hope its worth it YN: Because thinking that you are getting hard of just seeing these pictures 🥵 SR: What? YN: Makes me really wet, and my mouth waters of just imaging your pants getting tighter because you are hard SR: Babe, the meeting is starting YN: All the things I would do to you YN: I would kneel in front of you and unbelt your pants slowly, tracing your cock through the clothes YN: Once your pants are down, I would give your cock wet kisses, while tracing soft patterns along your thighs YN: Once your cock is free, I would lick your shaft from the base up to the top, focusing on the precum leaking from the tip, and taking it all on the first try while I play with your balls, caressing them YN: Taking it out from my mouth with an audible pop, and pumping it a few times before putting it out on my mouth YN: While you grab my hair fucking my mouth until you feel me gagging, saying sweet things to me YN: I kept doing that until I make you come at the end of my throat

You saw that he was offline, so that meant he was ignoring your messages and you were fucking horny. Surely he was going to get a surprise when he reads those messages. You were about to start touching yourself when a message popped up on your screen

SR: I hope you don’t touch yourself after that YN: Why not? -Because I’m about to fuck you — he said from behind kissing you hard.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be part) @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @void-hoechlin @mrspeacem1nusone @thevelvetseries @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @caplanbuckybarnes

[thesunnyshow]

Name: Kim Age: 26 (27 in September) Writing Blog URL(s): @jinterlude​   

Nationality: Filipino-American Languages: English  Star Sign: Virgo MBTI: ISFJ-T Favorite color: Any shade of blue  Favorite food: Ah, I have so many, but I really do love ramen & this Filipino noodle dish my grandma makes. Favorite movie: West Side Story. A close second is Pride & Prejudice (2005) Favorite ice cream flavor: Rocky Road  Favorite animal: Pandas Go-to karaoke song: Upside Down by A*Teens (I think I just dated myself) 

What fandom(s) do you write for? Mainly BTS, but I have written for SVT, EXO, GOT7, Monsta X, B.A.P, & NCT

When did you post your first piece? Oh dang, when? Hmm… I want to say Oct. 2016 (?) on my first blog (I had deleted and came back to Tumblr).

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? I mostly write a combo because it just happens that way! My main genres are: fluff, romance, & humor/crack. 

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc? I mainly write OCs stories because that’s what makes me the happiest when it comes to writing, but I still write x reader fics for drabbles and oneshots. 

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr? Funny story. The reason why I started writing for Tumblr is because an old group of friends said that I should write a funny story based on a college class of mine, so I did and here we are. 

What inspires you to write? Usually, it’s my imagination, but other times it’s either the song I’m listening to or even the show I’m currently watching. Right now, my inspiration draws from anime. 

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most? Genre wise, I love writing fluff & romance. AUs wise, I’m a sucker for Royal/Royalty. Mafia/Gang & Soulmate AUs would be a close second. 

What do you hope your readers take away from your work? Oh, wow. I honestly never thought about that before. I think for me, the one thing I hope my readers get from my stories is at the end of the day, please do something that will make you happy. Your own happiness should always be a top priority for you. 

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively? I take a break! Instead of forcing myself out of the creativity slump, I just take a break and let my mind recharge. Then, I go back to my outline and look over while listening to music that I know will spark some creativity juices. 

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful? My favorite works (yes, I couldn’t pick just one) are my Royal!AU Seokjin series (Fight for Me & Our Second Chance). I love the amount of time and effort I put into those two stories, and I’m simply in awe at the world and characters I created. My second favorite is my latest Seokjin oneshot, Protecting Each Other. It’s my first story that exceeded 10,000 words, and I’m just proud of how that turned out. Successful wise, I would say it’s, This Little String. It’s a Soulmate!Taehyung oneshot based around the red-string of fate, and every other month, I see someone like and/or reblog it, so I say that’s pretty successful!

Who is your favorite person to write about? Seokjin hands down. I mean, not only is he one of my ultimate biases, but for some reason my creative banks dishes out ideas and inspiration for him like it’s nothing. 

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose? I personally don’t think so. You are still writing original content that derails from the source material (or adds to it), all you have to do is just replace your idols’ name with an original character name, and there you go. What do you think makes a good story? For me, I’d say that if you’re honestly proud of the end product, then that story is good, and your readers will see that. What is your writing process like? First I get an idea, or I like to call it, “it appeared to me in a vision,” then I outline it (if the idea lingers in my brain), and then I start writing and editing. Sometimes I’d sprint with my fellow writers on a server I’m in, and other times, I’d put on music and just let my brain go wild. Most of the time, I’m sprinting with friends. 

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story? If I had the time, probably. I can see my Royal!AU series becoming an original story with different characters and an expanded plotline. What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand? I am a sucker for F2L I (friends to lovers)! I just love the idea of dating someone who’s your best friend, so why not date your best friend, if the feelings are mutual of course! As for tropes, I dislike, I can’t say that I have any. I think it’s because (and I feel so bad for this), I don’t really read much stories other than what my mutual friends have written. 

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you? It means the world to me because I do like knowing if I’m doing something right or if I need to go back and edit something for clarity. Mainly, I get likes and reblogs (with no feedback), and while it’s still nice of someone for taking the time to like and reblog something, I would like some feedback, please. I’m still grateful no matter what, though!

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)? I think it’s the support of my amazing group of friends/mutuals! It’s thanks to their support that my work is reaching a wider audience, and it just means the world to me that they read my blood, sweat, and tears. I love them so much, especially my close friend, Jey (softjeon on Tumblr)!

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering? For coffee, my go-to is a Caramel Macchiato with Soy Milk (from Starbucks), but lately I’ve been using my Keurig, so I just Peppermint Mocha and 3 tsps of Sugar (I can’t stand bitter coffee lol). For tea, I really like Mango green tea from Gongcha (another boba place chain). 

Dream job (whether you have a job or not)? My dream job is to be an elementary school teacher, however, I am currently working on becoming a social worker where my population will still focus on children/students. So, it’s a good compromise!

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?  If I could have one superpower, it would be cryokinesis aka ice manipulation!  

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose? Oh, that’s a tough one, but if I had to choose one, I would go for the 1960s so I can see the Beatles live!

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you? No, because it’s thanks to those life lessons that I grow up to be who I currently am. Sometimes you have to go through those harsh experiences to be a better version of yourself!

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken? One horse-sized chicken, then I can feed my family for months. 

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been? Oh, hands down, I would be the stereotypical geek/nerd. Though, I was called a “preppy” in 9th grade, so that was a first. 

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures? Yup, especially ghosts! 

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know? I can say the alphabet backwards! 

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged? Oh, hands down, especially when it comes to writing smut. I’ve seen other blogs condemn writers who write smut about real people, but my thing is that these idols are merely face claims for a character that the author is writing about. 

Do you think art can be a medium for change? I think so! Every artist has a voice, especially with what’s going on recently, we need to be able to use our voices to spread light on certain issues. 

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself? I used to think that way, especially when it came to writing x reader inserts since I know that’s what “sells” to the Tumblr audience. Now, I’m perfectly happy with writing x OC stories, and I’m content with my stories getting at least 5 notes. If it breaks 10 notes, then that’s a success!

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times? If they did, then I wouldn’t know. Most of the time, I think my writing is okay with people. 

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr? Yes, my soul friend managed my old blog once upon a time and actually read one of my smuts. I was so embarrassed! But at least he said it was tastefully written, so that’s a bonus? 

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers? Always remember that it is okay to take breaks/go on hiatus! 

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there? My advice to those who want to start writing but are too afraid put themselves out there is to simply go for it. I was that person who was afraid to put their writing out there for the world to see, especially with some already established BTS writers on Tumblr, but I went for it. At first, it might be discouraging but know that your mutuals/friends will always be your number one supporter! Use their support as a motivator to keep writing and finding your groove! Then, eventually, all of your readers will start trickling in and showering you with the love and support you deserve!

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr? I wouldn’t say regret joining but more like allowing my life to be revolved around it. At one point in my life, it felt like a second job/chore for me, and Tumblr should never be that type of site! 

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey? Oh, I have so many! The ones that come to mind are definitely Jey (softjeon), Beanie (jinned), Nina (j-sope), Kenz (parksfilter), Renae (mygsii), Atlas (astraljoon), & Niah (randomkoalablog) to name a few! I love these amazing people so much and cherish their friendship to the moon and back!

Pick a quote to end your interview with: "Around here, however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things, because we're curious … and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths." - Walt Disney

[olicitysecretsanta]

Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud 

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess. 

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so. 

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow. 

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List. 

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze. 

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm. 

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her. 

Huli jing. 

His anonymous hacker ally. 

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean. 

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.  

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word. 

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island. 

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note. 

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all. 

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked. 

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support. 

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support. 

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?” 

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him. 

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before. 

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes. 

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible. 

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence. 

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him. 

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false. 

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s. 

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure. 

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit. 

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.  

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him. 

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help. 

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?” 

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently. 

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.” 

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.” 

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.” 

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond. 

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped. 

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.” 

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them. 

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret. 

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.” 

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?” 

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.” 

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him.  He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb. 

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing. 

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush  body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response. 

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was. 

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not. 

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that. 

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core. 

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected. 

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists. 

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife. 

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced. 

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought.  She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation. 

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious,  strategic manner that he was unused to in other people. 

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing. 

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak. 

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer. 

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her. 

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.” 

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed. 

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind. 

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.” 

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion. 

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.  

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder. 

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place. 

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him. 

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her.  He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability. 

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too. 

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.  

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water. 

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick. 

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

[libermachinae]

Schematics [Or, Another Chance] – Ch. 1, Crash

Also available on AO3! Summary: Written for @prowlweek! They’ve been construction workers, engineers, soldiers, lab rats, a giant berserker fueled by rage. Time travel bounty hunters is a first for them, sure, but they’ve handled worse, and with the opportunity to get back into Prowl’s graces, they’re down to try pretty much anything.

Notes: Prowlastator time travel AU was an item on the brainstorming list that I was simultaneously excited about and assumed would never get written. Then, Prowl Week was announced, which was a perfect excuse to force myself to do the thing.

⏳ 🚧 🚓 ⌛ 🏗 🚧 ⏳

Prowl wanted them.

He’d called them, and when none had answered because they’d all been deep in recovery stasis, he’d left a message. Short, to the point, crisp with a tone they all recognized immediately:

Send confirmation upon receipt. Meet at the following coordinates.

Mixmaster swore that somewhere down in stasis dreams, he’d been aware of the moment Prowl had reached out, had felt his spark spin and dance in celebration of its prodigal companion. Long Haul tried to argue that he’d never heard the word dream before they’d been stuck under cover with the humans for all those months, and Bonecrusher had stepped in to defend him. As his teammates squabbled together in the cramped hospital room and Scavenger pretended to still be offline, Hook sent their reply. A single ping, message acknowledged. He wanted badly to ask how Prowl was, tell him the team was excited and ready for whatever he needed from them, but the right words weren’t coming. Besides, Prowl would appreciate the simplicity.

They left that night. Had they any stock in what the doctors or human (ew) repair crews had to say, they would have been there several more days, but Prowl’s assessment was the one that mattered. They could get out of their beds, sneak out of the hospital, and transform into a conga line of construction vehicles driving down the road: they were well enough for whatever he asked of them.

Hook led the way, maneuvering them through the hospital parking garage, into alleys, and around the many construction sites flooding the area around where Cybertronians had made landfall. The team had been knocked offline during their battle with Victorion (that was a rematch to look forward to), so all they knew was that a final, final battle had taken place and someone had dragged them to Earth, where they’d been labeled as ‘victims to Starscream’s self-important delusions’ and tossed in with the rest of the bots who’d ended up mangled, crushed, and torn by the death throes of their planet. Keeping their distance, they saw Cybertronians and humans working alongside one another, building plans for a future in which the two species were able to live side by side. Scavenger even thought it was ‘sweet.’

They never spared it more than a glance, though; Prowl was waiting.

The coordinates took them far from the development, across fields that forced Hook, Bonecrusher, and Long Haul to switch to root mode so their tires didn’t get sucked into the mud, and through forests that snagged their kibble and occasionally required they disentangle each other. Night passed, their path lit by a moon that was little more than a hunk of dead rock, and by day they still wore on, anticipation fueling each step like rough high grade. They reached the mouth of the cave just as the sun reached its crescendo, pushing deep into the darkness below.

They jumped. Mid-air, they strained their optics, searching for their sixth.

There. There he was! Standing just out of the spotlight of the roof, Prowl was almost invisible in the darkness: he’d painted over his white paint with a dark shade of gray, and his biolights had all be covered to make him more believable as an Earth vehicle. His single blue optic was unmistakable, though, both for its color and the way it stared at them, harsh but unreadable, as each member of the team landed in front of him. Dust rose from around their feet and the cave shivered with the impact, and he did not blink, though his gaze shifted to each in turn.

Hook felt his spark trip and wondered if this might be the feeling Mixmaster had been trying to describe.

It was really their Prowl. They were together again.

Hook ran forward, feeling more than hearing the team as they converged around him. Maybe Prowl tried to say something, and maybe they should have responded, but no words came to Hook that would have meant as much as actions. Besides, it would have been too hard to hear as five, then six, t-cogs activated.

There wasn’t even time to savor it. One moment Hook was rolling forward, sliding through his vehicle mode and into Devastator’s component, and then he attempted to connect to Long Haul and everything fell apart.

Pain burned a terrible arc through Hook’s body and he wrenched away from the connection, collapsing onto the floor as his addled processor tried to understand what it had just undergone. The rest of the team crashed down around him, a ragged pile of robots, vehicles, and limbs with Prowl in the center, just starting to sit up. He cradled his helm in one hand, but the glare of his optic pierced through his fingers, targeting Hook and welding him to the spot. Even without the direct connection, Hook’s spark felt the disapproval.

“W-what happened?” Scavenger asked, pushing himself up from where he’d been pinned under Bonecrusher’s blade. The more senior team member transformed and placed a hand on his shoulder, though he too looked to Hook and Prowl for answers.

Hook had none. In their time as a combiner, he had picked up a few tricks they could use to diagnose and bypass glitches, little things here and there that could hold the mesh together until someone more qualified could solve the root of the problem. He’d never been prepared for anything like this, the sting of rejection still flowing through his body and making it hard to perform the usual systems checks he would have had going by now.

“You’re broken,” Prowl said, turning to Bonecrusher. Hook was both grateful and regretful to lose his attention. “Long Haul,” he turned to the one stuck halfway between robot and dump truck, “I received almost no feedback from you. Either your combination circuits have been turned in on themselves, or they’re missing entirely. I suspect the rest of you have similar injuries.”

“Well, what’s it going to take to get us fixed?” Long Haul demanded as he righted himeslf, defensive for having had his own poor repair called out.

“Many things we don’t have,” Prowl said, “least of all expertise. The one mech who fully understands how your bodies work is currently in custody.”

Shockwave was still alive? News to Hook, not that he really cared. He was dealing with more present concerns.

“We can’t combine?” He said it like a question, but it didn’t feel like one.

“No,” Prowl said, “which is perfectly acceptable. I have you how I want you.”

The team perked up, even Mixmaster sitting up from where he’d been lounging on the ground.

“What’s that mean?” Bonecrusher asked.

“The mission I’ve called you here for requires finesse, a clear mind, and ability to stay focused,” Prowl said. “Multiple field runs have now proven that, while combined, I am not capable of such to a degree that is acceptable for any logical hope of success. So, it is to our benefit that we cannot combine.”

“You… don’t want to form Devastator anymore?” Scavenger asked. Bonecrusher’s hand on his shoulder stilled.

“That’s not what he said,” Long Haul snapped, though his optics darted back to Prowl.

“You’re right, Long Haul,” Prowl said, “though you would understand why it’s a complicated question. I…”

Hook leaned in with the rest of his team. He’d so looked forward to being in Prowl’s head again, watching the calculations run down, branches and paths unimaginable to them flowing open at Prowl’s touch. If they couldn’t get that, hearing his thoughts would be the next best thing.

He grimaced, though, and the change in his tone when he started again indicated that whatever he’d meant to say next was going to stay locked away.

“I need you for this mission,” he said instead. “You are the only mechs I can trust with it, and I know you will not take that responsibility lightly. It’s because we have combined that I can give you this confidence.”

“Course, Prowl,” Mixmaster said.

“You can trust us with anything,” Scavenger added.

Prowl’s doorwings twitched up. Hook still wished he knew what that meant, and the familiarity of the feeling was what finally reminded him that Prowl was back. Regardless of Devastator, of whatever mission they were about to embark on, that thought stood out in his mind, and he crawled forward so he could touch Prowl’s shoulder, dip his fingers into that fresh gray paint.

“Anything,” he echoed. “We’re here for you.” He would promise nothing he didn’t know he could deliver.

The others followed, enclosing their loose circle around Prowl, who startled at each touch, his gaze whipping around. He stood, dislodging every curious hand, and in the glare of the roof looked like a messiah among his followers. Hook, directly in front of him, squinted up, able to make out only the silhouette of a pointed chevron and doorwings, fanned wide.

“I know,” Prowl said. He stepped over Mixmaster and out of their circle, unfolding from the light and molding himself back into the darkness, where he was once more reduced to a single glowing optic.

“The same way I know that when I tell you this information is top secret,” he went on, “you will know never to reveal it to anyone.”

“We won’t say a thing,” Hook said, standing. The others joined in, echoing Hook’s sentiments as the group rose up, but Prowl’s attention stayed on him. Hook felt the look like it was a blunt object, plunging into his spark, and he accepted the force, embraced it, returning it without any idea of its purposes. He did not look away, not because he was intent on winning whatever game they’d entered into, but because he didn’t know what would happen if he did.

“I know,” Prowl repeated. Hook’s optics, adjusting again to the gloom, were just able to make out the motion he made with one hand.

Follow.

They did.

Prowl led them away from the light, further into the darkness of the cavern. Tucked into one wall was what looked like a terminal amassed with sticky organic matter that threaded together, creating windows that acted as a screen when Prowl powered it on. The team stopped a few steps shy, peering up into uncanny views, except Mixmaster, who strode forward to poke at the vestigial threads hanging off the side.

“This is a time machine.”

Prowl dropped the statement like a bag of bolts. Mixmaster stopped what he was doing to look up at their head. Scavenger jolted.

“You built a time machine?” he asked, awe tilting his helm up and guiding him another step closer, angling to watch Prowl work.

“No. An old… Someone else did,” Prowl said.

“Mesothulas?” Mixmaster guessed.

Hook cringed. Bonecrusher had come across the name accidentally the last time they had combined, but they’d all had to work together to assemble the story, each member offering a scrap of information until something resembling a narrative emerged. Hook had assumed their silent agreement not to mention it to Prowl was enough.

“Not relevant,” Prowl said, proving that it was possible to know a mech’s deepest secrets and still not know how to parse a particular tone of voice. More transparent was the way he reached out and pushed Mixmaster’s curious hands away from the terminal. “I have secured it and assumed full control over the technology. Before I was able to intervene, however, another individual commandeered it with the intention to interrupt our current timeline. Had he been successful, the results would have been catastrophic.”

“So, someone already stopped him?” Hook asked.

“More likely, he just failed,” Prowl said. “Temporal modification is complicated, and without proper training it’s likely he just got himself stuck in a loop somewhere. Still, so long as he remains at large in the timestream, he poses a risk toward spaciotemporal stability. Our mission is to follow him through time and apprehend him, so he can be brought back to Earth to face charges.”

“Against what? Time law?” Scavenger asked.

“Misuse of potentially deadly technology,” Prowl said. “I helped write the bill.”

Hook still wasn’t sure about tone, but that definitely sounded like something approaching pride.

“So, no killing?” Bonecrusher asked.

“No.”

“Damn.”

“No killing, Bonecrusher,” Prowl said. His postured sharpened and he turned to lock optics on the mech, who shrunk back as if to hide behind Long Haul. “If you cannot follow this or any other directive I give you, tell me now, so I can dismiss you and assemble a new task force.”

“It just depends,” Hook said, trying to and finding himself unfortunately successful at drawing Prowl’s attention away. “Is it Spike Witwicky? Or Starscream?” Yeah, yeah, they’d heard the reports, but only someone as gullible as Scoop (who had started inconsolable, turned incoherent when Bonecrusher threatened to punch him back to Cybertron) would believe that fragger would have any interest in staying dead.

“No,” Prowl said, “though that your loyalty is conditional brings down our chance of success by upwards of 20%.”

“No, no, it’s just those two,” Hook insisted, looking to the others.

“You know how it is around that lousy sack of bolts,” Long Haul said, defensive though his tone tried to be accusatory.

“But you say don’t kill, we won’t kill,” Mixmaster added. He took hold of Bonecrusher’s elbow and guided him back in view.

“Yeah,” Bonecrusher said, looking up at Prowl though he so clearly didn’t want to. “Trust us.”

Prowl’s optic stuck to him, then scanned over each member of the team in turn. When Hook felt the gaze fall on him, he did his best to return it without looking like he was trying to challenge Prowl. He wanted to rise to whatever was being asked of him, and no higher.

“I have safeguards in place to hold you to that,” Prowl said, breaking optic contact at last to address the group at large. “I trust that you will not force me to use them.”

Hook nodded with the rest of the team. He knew a threat when he heard it, even a vague one, and he didn’t mind it when it came from Prowl. It was how he got things done, produced results, and with that being one of the many reasons they had come to respect him as their newfound leader, how could they fault him for his methods? A means to an end, that was all Prowl’s precautions were, and Hook was much more invested in the end.

“Once we have captured the target, he will be returned to the present day,” Prowl continued. “He is to be kept in adequate repair, relative to whatever state we find him in. There is a chance he will try to escape, in which case you are permitted to use an appropriate level of non-lethal force.”

“When do we find out who it is, anyway?” Long Haul asked. His voice was almost neutral, but there was a tightness to it that belied his impatience.

“When the information becomes mission-relevant,” Prowl said.

“Hrmph.”

So, it was back to same old, secrets keeping, potentially backstabbing, always plotting Prowl. Still opaque, still keeping his allies in the dark about his unfurling plans and invisible strategies. Hook’s brakes relaxed, letting his wheels rock on their axels. It really was the mech they’d all pulled into their sparks, not the ‘reformed’ glitch everyone in the hospital had been gossiping about.

“Sounds good boss,” he said, shoving at Long Haul with his elbow. He caught a glare for it, but the annoyed growl of the dump truck’s engine quieted to a hum, which was good enough. “When do we start?”

“Now.” Prowl’s fingers flew across the terminal keyboard. “The machine keeps a log of all the points it accesses. Unfortunately, it looks like our suspect had help, as several were logged simultaneously; I assume the intention was to prevent us from finding the correct coordinates. To conduct our search, we’ll have to travel to each one manually.”

“Sounds simple,” Mixmaster said.

“It does,” Prowl agreed, which of course meant, It’s not. “Construction of the machine was halted prematurely. It lacks a mechanism to ancho it to the present, which means there is nothing present within the system to guide an individual back once they’ve passed through.”

“What?” Scavenger yelped, stepping back like Prowl had burst into flame. “You mean we’ll be stuck out there?”

“Of course not,” Prowl said. “Why do you think I called on you?”

“You need Devastator?” Bonecrusher guessed.

“We’re a team?” Mixmaster added.

“We already discussed that, Bonecrusher,” Prowl said. He ignored Mixmaster altogether. “Gestalt coding. For better or worse, our sparks are drawn to each other, and the simulations I’ve run suggest that the pull can be felt through the timestream, as well. One mech will stay here, to act as the anchor. When it’s time to come back, the rest of the team should be able to get back relying on that.”

“Not it!”

Attention turned to Long Haul, who was beaming in pride of his quick reflexes. Prowl stopped typing just long enough to turn a glare on him.

“Not—”

“You’ll be taking turns,” Prowl said, interrupting Scavenger. “We have to come back each time to input the new coordinates. We’ll switch off then.”

Had Scrapper been the one in charge, first, they wouldn’t have been attempting anything like this. Second, Long Haul’s brazen declaration would have made him the first to sit out. Instead, Prowl resumed typing, more focused on the intricacies of the time machine than chastising his team for minor infractions. Hook still leveled a disapproving glance at Long Haul, who shrugged it off.

“Preparations are complete,” Prowl announced, turning his back on the terminal to once more address the team. “Bonecrusher will be the anchor for the first run. The rest of you, follow me.”

He led them deeper into the cave, into a pocket the light had almost no hope of reaching. Here, what looked like an empty doorframe stretched far above their heads, visible only by the energy that had started to crackle around its edges as the time machine came online. Pinkish, orangey light spiraled inward, coming to a point at the center of the frame. It looked so familiar to Hook that had it not been for Prowl’s explanation, he would have assumed it was a spacebridge.

“I will lead the way. You will each follow, two seconds behind the person in front of you,” Prowl instructed. “First Hook, then Scavenger, Long Haul, and Mixmaster. The moment you step through this gate, you are to do nothing without my explicit order. If I don’t tell you to walk, you stay still. If your life is in danger, you wait until my go ahead to save yourself. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Hook said, in unison with the rest of the team.

Prowl looked each one over. He nodded.

“Turn off your comms now,” he said. “We don’t need to risk leaving a signal behind someone might trace. Are there any questions?”

Hook had several, but since none were strictly relevant to the mission, he figured it would be best to hold on for now.

“Very well,” Prowl said. “Hook, follow my steps exactly. Once you reach the end, you are to wait for my signal before you exit the timestream.” A last sweep of the team, and it struck Hook that he didn’t know what Prowl was looking for.

He must have found it, whatever it was, because he turned his back on them and stepped through. They saw his silhouette for just a moment before it was swallowed whole by the light.

Hook stared at the space that had once been Prowl.

“…two-on-thousand,” he heard Bonecrusher murmur.

Well, he could take a hint when it was given. Hook chanced a glance back at the others before he stepped in, not that he really needed to. All he saw were the faces of his team, and they were familiar to him as his own spark. It was up ahead that was unknown, fascinating, slightly dangerous, so Hook strode forward into the light, following wherever it was Prowl led.

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 12

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 3,268

Warnings: swearing

Serendipity Masterlist

I sit on the couch next to Jake. We were waiting for Colby to finish setting up the camera so we could film his video. All the roommates were downstairs and for once nobody was on their phones. I just relaxing watch Sam and Jake messing around. Corey and Aaron were in the other room waiting for Colby to call them for the video.

"Guys, come on!" Colby yells finally walking back into the room. He stands by his camera waits to start recording. A few seconds later Aaron and Corey come in and sit on opposite sides of the group. Colby turns on the camera and runs to sit in the middle next to me.

We all look at the camera while Colby introduces everyone. I look down at my phone and see my manager calling. I reject the call and quickly texted back saying that I'm filming with everyone. Immediately, he texts back telling me to call him right now.

"Colbs, I'm so sorry. My manager is calling and I have to take it. It'll only be a minute." I whisper in his ear.

"Yeah, no. Go take it." Colby gets up to go stop the recording and I quickly walking into the living room. I hear the boys joking and laughing in the distance as dial my manager's number. The line rings twice before he picks up.

"Hey, what's wrong?" My voice is only a little shaky. My manager rarely calls and he never needs me urgently.

"Have you checked twitter lately?" The tone of his voice sounds annoyed.

"No, I've been offline all day. Why?" I freeze in place. Half of me wants to hang up and check my twitter while the other half of me wants to just hang up and hide in a hole.

"It's a shit show right now. Someone leaked your nudes and apparent sex tapes."

"My what?" As far as I know, I don't have any nudes or sex tapes.

"You need to come down here right now. We have to talk." He hangs up the phone and I stand there, confused for a second.

I pull my phone away from my ear and quickly open twitter. I check the trending tab and I see my name trending number one. I click it and see thousands of tweets about or containing videos and pictures of me either naked or doing something with someone. A lot of the videos are different and obviously, don't have the same people in them.

"...zy, what's wrong?" I feel Colby put a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and face him. The look on his face lets me know he hasn't seen it yet.

"I-I.." I take a deep breath. "I'm really sorry. I can't be in your video right now. I have to go." I try to stay calm. I grab my bag from the counter and check to see if my keys are in it.

"Woah, wait. What's going on?" Colby puts his hand on my shoulders to stop me from looking. I look into his eyes and see panic and concern.

"I don't know. S-someone leaked pornographic photos and videos of me but I'm really confused because I don't remember taking or making them, let alone sending them to people. It's all over twitter— Colby I have to go." As I try to leave again I hear the patter of feet run into the kitchen. I look to see Jake holding his phone and blushing.

"Isabella, I don't know how to tell you this but your—" Jake stammers.

"Fuck..." I take a few breaths. I quickly walk into the living room where everyone else is talking and joking.

"Just fyi, either stay off twitter and Instagram for a while. I'm trending because someone... leaked some revealing photos and videos of me. Jake already saw them and I really don't want to make things more awkward with the rest of the house. All I'm saying is just be cautious." I say. I can tell that Aaron, Corey, and Sam are all curious. I hear Colby and Jake walk back into the living room. I turn around to walk out. I make awkward eye contact with Jake and we both quickly look away.

"Wait, Isabella, where are you going?" Colby asks.

"I'm going to my manager's office to take care of this," I say walking past Colby.

"Hold on, let me drive you." Colby blocks the door.

"No, no. Stay and film your video. I'll be fine."

"Do you really think I'm going to stay here and film like you're not stressing over this?" I read Colby's face over and over and I know he's not letting me leave by myself.

"Fine." I watch as Colby grabs his keys and we walk out to his car.

When we get to my manager's office the secretary tells me to go straight in. I told Colby to wait for me in the waiting room. On the way there I went through all my social media so I could see the damage myself. In all my years of being on social media, I've never received hate like this, not even when Colby and I first announced that we were dating. People are even starting rumors about me cheating on Colby.

I take a deep breath before knocking on my manger's door. I wait until I hear a muffled 'come in' from the other side. I open the door and quietly close it as if it would make a difference. Mitch gestures for me to sit on the couch. I sit patiently as he pulls up images and videos on his tv. The audio from the video is muted but still playing and there are even photos and videos of me at parties and drinking.

"Do you understand the severity of the situation at hand?" Mitch sits up in his chair.

"Yes, but—" Mitch puts his hand up to signal for me to stop.

"We have worked for years to mold you into a squeaky clean social media influencer. I took you under my wing without your official parental consent and risked getting fired." Mitch stands up and starts pacing the room.

I physically bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything back. Anything I say right now won't help.

"I told you, time and time again to not act out. I told that if you insisted on going to all those parties to be smart about it and keep your public image in mind." Mitch stops pacing and stands in front of me.

"So tell me exactly how are you keeping your image in your mind when you're fucking every single guy in LA that crosses your path?"

"I—"

"I'm not finished. Can you not keep your legs shut or do you walk around like a whore when I leave you alone? I don't understand how you can fuck up this badly when we practically lay out how to do your job for you? Are you honestly that stupid? Do you understand how bad this is? I have companies calling me to cancel your brand deals. What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

I blink away the stinging of tears threatening to fall. I've never seen Mitch this angry. I consider him a father figure and now I've really fucked up. I clear my throat.

"In my defense, I never purposefully took or had prior knowledge of those videos or pictures. I know I'm in them but I honestly had no idea these were even out there. The drinking ones, I had some sort of feeling those might have been floating around. I didn't mean to disappoint anyone."

"Well, you did. You've ruined everything on top of it."

"Well, what do I do? How do I fix it?"

"You can't. The damage has already been done. You fucked up big time. I received a call from higher up before I contacted you. I was told that your new found reputation is not something we can be associated with. As of right now, you are no longer being managed by us. As per your contract, this partnership has been terminated. I had Rachel pack away anything and everything that has to with your name and personal in a box at the front. There is also a check with the remainder of the funds that you have made through us. Any royalties you may receive that were not directly sent to you will be switch over in your name, Rachel will provide you with those documents on your way out."

"Wait? That's it? One scandal and I'm dropped? There are actual celebrities that have done worse who are still managed by their original management companies." I stand up in protest.

"The difference between you and actual celebrities is that they're people with actual talent that can bounce back and you're just a pretty faced little nobody that will go back to being irrelevant in a few months. That's how LA works." Mitch goes back to his desk and closes out the videos and pictures. He goes back to work as if I'm no longer in the room.

I compose myself before leaving his office and heading to the front desk. Colby sees me and walks over to me as I fill out the forms as Rachel explains them. She has a pitying look written all over her face. As I continue to sign papers she places the box on the counter. I finish signing and Rachel places the copies of the forms into my box. I go to pick up the box but Colby grabs it for me. Quickly and quietly we walk to and get into Colby car. As Colby turns on the car, I sit and assess my next steps.

"What happened?" Colby says as he pulls out of the parking lot.

"Basically, I've apparently allowed the entire world see me when I'm naked, lost brand deals left and right, and I was dropped by my management," I say without looking at Colby.

"What? They can't do that?"

"Yes, they can. It was in my contract." I turn on the music to signal for Colby to stop asking questions so I could think. Colby immediately turns the radio back off.

"How are you so calm right now?"

"What's crying and being angry going to do for me right now, Colby? I need to think about what to do next." I turn the radio back on and raise the volume up. Colby turns the radio down.

"Want to get some to eat then?"

"Can you just take me to my apartment instead? I need to take care of this."

"How about we grab something to go and go to my house and work through this together."

"Fine." I turn the music up and look out the window. This time Colby doesn't try to talk.

When we get back to the house Colby and I go straight to his room. Colby closes the door and sets the food down on the bed. He grabs my hand and drags me to the couch.

"Okay, enough. I get that you're trying to be rational and go about this with a clear mind but I actually think that you should stop bottling everything in. You need to let it all out." I look Colby in the eyes and see a concerned look on his face. I take a deep breath and look down at my hands.

"It's just that... I let so many people down: the fans, you, Mitch... If I could take back any of it I would. I honestly don't know what to do. Sure, Twitter will take down the videos and pictures but thousands—if not millions of people have seen them. Who knows how many people saved them? Those who saw them can't unsee them. What am I going to do? Make an apology video? What would I even say? 'Hey guys, sorry I'm a huge disappointment. The life that I've portrayed on the internet since I was 12 is a gigantic lie and I'm actually a fuck up and a slut in real life.' There is literally nothing I can do. And on top of that things are going to be bad for you. If you don't post a video of Friday you're going to get a lot of hate but if you do then you're going to get hate. I can only imagine the wreckage that is going on on your social media right now... what I don't understand is why would anyone want to do this? I haven't done anything to anyone. I fucked everything up and I can't fix it." I don't know when but at some point I began crying and I can't seem to stop. Colby also pulled me close with my head on his should at some time too.

"Breathe. Everything is going to work out. How about this, you cry it out as long as you need, you take a shower, we eat, and he lay down while we try to figure this out together?"

"But I don't want to cry it out. I want to do something. I let so many people down, including you."

"Isabella, for once, put yourself first. You didn't know that those pictures or videos were taken. That's literally not your fault. You're the victim. Don't worry about everyone else right now. Don't stress about my video, that's my responsibility. Now I'm telling you to eat with me, go take a shower, and go lay down in my bed." Colby wipes the tears on my cheeks and kisses my forehead.

"I'll eat with you but I have to do something before I go and hide from the world," I say wiping the rest of my tears away.

After eating with Colby I took a shower and changed into Colby's shirt and a pair of leggings. I throw my wet hair into a bun and walk back into Colby's room. Colby was sitting on his bed scrolling on his phone. I take my laptop out of my bag and set it on the couch. While it turns on I post a picture on my Instastory about me going live in five minutes on youtube. I told Colby that I was going to do this before getting into the shower. I set up the live on my laptop and wait a few seconds before pressing record.

"...Hey guys. It's been quite the eventful day, hasn't it? You might be thinking why I'm going live. Well, I feel the need to address all the recent information that's been released about me. I also don't need people to think that I edited my video to fake what I'm actually feeling. For the first time in four years, I'm going to be 100% truthful with you..."

I explain everything. How I was feeling when I was growing up, minus the full details of what was going on at home at the time. I tell them about the parties, the hookups, the pictures, and videos. I laid everything out on the table. After I basically vomited on the internet I pause.

"...and after everything that happened today, I decided that I'm going to take a break from all social media. I've worked and uploaded consistently since I was 12 and we see where that got me. I'm going to take this time to reevaluate my life. I don't know when I'll be back or if I'll ever be back. You might see me in other people's videos but that won't be for a while. Whatever I decided I'll post a video on my channel. You'll hear my next steps straight from me but for now, goodbye."

I turn off the live stream and double check that it went on my channel before closing my laptop. I quickly change all my social media profile pictures and headers to black. I tweet out that I explain everything on my channel and I post three black pictures on my Instagram. I turn off my phone and crawl next to Colby in bed. I bury myself as deep as I can into him. My head rests on his chest.

"Do you feel a little better?"

"A little. I just want to talk or think anymore."

"We can do that. Give me your phone first." Without hesitation, I give Colby my phone. He places it on the little table next to his bed. Colby places a headphone in my ear and I slowly drift to sleep to the sound of Colby's heartbeat and music.

****

I wake up to complete darkness. I'm no longer sleeping on top of Colby, instead, I'm curled into his side with his arm on top of me. I manage to gently move his arm off and climb over him. I grab my phone and tiptoe out of Colby's room. I know he's a heavy sleeper but I somehow manage to wake him up.

I walk into Sam and Colby's bathroom and check the comments. Before I do I see a missed text from Jake telling me that he's available to talk if I want to. I check the time and see that he should still be up. I text back a quick reply and go immediately to my live that I uploaded earlier and started to read the comments. Some comments are good but most are bad. I get another text from Jake telling me to go to his room. Without thinking I walk to Jake's room and quietly knock on the door.

Jake opens the door and lets me in. His room is as messy as ever. His laptop is open on his bed and I see a couple of energy drinks open. Jake's hair is messy and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. I sit down on Jake's bed and pull my knees up to my chest. Jake comes by and sits next to me and closes his laptop. We both stare forwards, not looking at each other.

"Just so you know, I didn't see anything." Jake blurts out.

"What do you mean you didn't see anything? Weren't you going to tell me about it?" I turn my head and tuck my hair behind my ear.

"I saw that your name was trending, so I clicked the link and saw what people were saying. When I figured out what was being said I went to tell you so you knew what was being said."

"Well, thanks for being honest. This whole thing is a mess."

"How do you feel. I mean, besides the obvious."

"I just want to be numb, I don't want to feel anything."

"Why numb?" Jake is now sitting up. His eyes are sad but his face doesn't show it.

"Me wanting to feel numb is what started all of this. I was running from something and I was an absolute shit show. I should have... done something else. Back then, I didn't care about what I did. It's always the girl that gets shit in situations like these. But now, I have all you guys to worry about and now I've not only messed things up for myself, but I've also fucked things up for Colby and you guys." I bury my face into my lap to try to stop myself from crying.

"Bella put yourself first for once. Don't worry about us. This isn't your fault." I feel Jake's hand softly rubbing my back. We stayed like that until I went back to Colby's room to sleep.

[otnesse]

Analysis on MGS4's ending

Hi. As I alluded to in earlier posts, I mentioned that MGS4's ending really wasn't particularly good or well-written. I've said a few times that sad endings are really overrated regarding realism. Well, I can tell you that MGS4's ending alongside The Matrix Revolution's ending, was so unrealistic that even Disney-style happy endings are a LOT more realistic than them. Might as well cover exactly what the problems with the ending were.

1. Liquid Ocelot's plan and rate of success

The first part of the problem deals largely with the reveal of Liquid Ocelot's true plan, after manipulating Snake into carrying it out for him. See, after Snake shuts down GW (and, inadvertently, the whole AI network), Liquid Ocelot reveals when Snake asked why he didn't stop him that shutting down the AI network was in fact what he planned all along (he had earlier led everyone to believe that he sought to just usurp command via GW, how that would work I don't know since it's technically locked out of the system, so even IF Liquid did indeed try to shoot out JD, he'd still have to contend with AL, TJ, and TR before he can come close to taking over the network). Then he basically gives the history lecture about the Patriots and Outer Heaven's little war between each other before basically gloating about how the world is now "Free from FOXDIE... Free from the System... Free from ID control. Our minds free from their prisons. That is the haven [Liquid Ocelot had] yearned for", and then after a fight basically infers that now with the AIs gone, people will just shoot each other for fun like in the Wild West with full-on anarchy, the complete absence of law and order. Otacon after Liquid Ocelot's death then basically reveals that such didn't come to pass because Sunny "kept the brain stem intact" when writing the code for FOXALIVE, and gives a list of all the elements of society that were preserved to prevent a holocaust that Liquid Ocelot envisioned to free the world from The Patriots.

Here's the problem, though: The stuff Otacon listed as being the vitals of society either wouldn't have been controlled into existence by the Patriots at all (or, heck, even their predecessor organization the Philosophers), or even if they did actually control them, their dismantling would have at worst been a minor inconvenience and not an apocalyptic scenario like the rest of the cast indicated. Here's the list as described by Otacon in the ending:

Otacon: She [Sunny] analyzed Naomi's black box and separated the Patriots' control system from the vital lifelines of society. Water... Air... Electricity... Food... Medicine, communication, transportation...

Let me start by covering each of them and how they would not have even remotely in danger of dying out thanks to the Patriots going away:

A. Water

Water has existed since well before even the Philosophers were founded, let alone the Patriots, so it shouldn't even need to be stated that the Patriots' destruction wouldn't impact water at all (and that's not even getting into rain-clouds). Even if we are to take that to mean water purification for drinking, that's existed since the late 18th century, not to mention made accessible to the public in a practical manner since 1910. There's definitely no way the Patriots would have negatively impacted water unless the Earth was so polluted that water itself was poison, that and maybe a weather-altering device (I guess that might explain why MGSV oddly had Diamond Dogs possessing weather altering technology). On that note, that also would prove to be a problem for citing electricity, which I'll get to in a moment.

B. Air

Like with water, air itself has existed since long before even the Philosophers, let alone the Patriots, were created, as breathable oxygen and also the weather, so their destruction would not have negatively impacted it. I'd expect something like that from Mega Man Zero, where that at least had Harupia being capable of altering the weather as well as his weather station. Probably the only way that would fly is if the Earth had inhospitable weather beforehand (think Fichina before the weather control center was installed in Star Fox Assult).

C. Electricity

One of the first methods of getting electricity involved water mills, and that's not even getting into the Incadescent Lamp (aka, the Light Bulb) that Thomas Edison invented, all of which pre-dated even the Philosophers, let alone the Patriots. And let's not get into Ben Franklin's invention of the electric rod. It's pretty obvious that the Patriots destruction would not destroy that from modern society. And even IF that was meant to imply the Patriots were only able to generate electricity a'la Dr. Weil's having control over all the energy, that only would act as a minor inconvenience, not an apocalyptic scenario. I live in the Branches of Dunwoody, which is rather infamous for being the last place to have restored power in the event of a blackout. No one ends up deciding to just loot and pillage their neighbors via mob rule whenever there was a blackout that occurs. Probably the only time something like that occurred might have been the 1977 blackout, and even THAT had other factors that were being ignored such as the mayor just letting everyone cut loose and not even bothering with enforcing the law.

D. Food

You're kidding right? Food has practically EXISTED since life first existed, which was well before the Patriots or, heck, even the Philosophers were formed. Food was hunted and even grown since time immemoriam, and there were even things known as harvests. The Patriots being destroyed obviously wouldn't hamper food. Not to mention the Food & Drug Administration was formed in 1906, well before the Philosophers were formed, so even doing preventative measures on bad food would not have been severely impacted. At worst, they might do slightly outdated aspects. Even in Weimar Germany during the 1930s, that was more the cause of a loss of money thanks to the Great Depression than an actual lack of food, not to mention in the USSR, that was due to the higher ups adhering to "to each according to his needs, to each according to his will" in a very self-serving manner despite the PR.

E. Medicine

Sure, several cures to diseases that were discovered between, say, 1921 up to 2014 probably would have been hampered if the Patriots were destroyed, but any cures to diseases made prior to that time would have very minimal effect, if any, by the Patriots shutdown. And even there, it would be a minor inconvenience at most, as humanity has managed to survive without modern medicines in the past, and find a way around it.

F. Communication

Probably the only thing I can think of that MIGHT actually be shut down are wireless phones and the internet, which were made by, if not the Patriots, then at a bare minimum the Philosophers. And even THAT would overall be a minor inconvenience at worst. Humanity has communicated by talking face to face, not to mention writing letters, and even the telephone was created during the 19th century by Alexander Graham Bell, so that wouldn't have been impacted much (in fact, I and my family often use dialup as an emergency for a power outage if it knocks out Cell phone usage). So no, communication would not be harmed by the Patriots fall, certainly not to the degree of it being an apocalyptic scenario in any case. Also, combining this with transportation, one of the earliest mail carrier delivery services was the Pony Express, back in the 19th century.

G. Transportation

Other than maybe automobiles or aerial craft, transportation would not be negatively impacted by the Patriots' shutdown. People have used roads since WELL before the Philosophers existed, let alone the Patriots. Not to mention they've used horse buggies and other means of transportation. And since the Ironclad and steamships existed in the 19th century, even the more modern warships wouldn't be negatively impacted. And even regarding cars or airplanes, that would be a minor inconvenience at worst, at least by comparison. Now, that being said, I can sort of understand how that might be bad due to Icepocalypse 2014, but even that didn't result in Armageddon or all of Dunwoody dying (I think there was only one fatality reported from that event).

Overall, the Patriots' total shutdown would not have been even remotely apocalyptic despite what the cast claimed. As such, because of that, Liquid Ocelot's plan, when you get right down to it wouldn't work at all even WITHOUT Sunny's rendition of FOXALIVE preserving everything. It has as much of a chance of happening in reality as revolutions popping up like leprachauns all over the world via what Karl Marx advocated [newsflash guys: other than the USSR, the only other revolutions that occurred were in Germany and Prussia, and even those were put down fairly easily]. It's almost as if Hideo Kojima thought society without the Patriots would have been like what that TV series Revolution depicted.

2. The outcome of Sunny's modifications

So, essentially, thanks to Sunny's modifications, it was supposed to end the Patriots, and avoid Outer Heaven being formed from the dust, leave people "free to choose." There's a small problem with that, however: The people who had those aspects probably would just choose one or the other anyway, and if anything actually makes a neo-Patriots that's arguably even WORSE than the original and/or an Outer Heaven war-torn world all the MORE likely, which could even be seen with Drebin 893's drunken rant to Otacon below:

Drebin           : Yeah, well, it ain't all sunshine and rainbows. Lotta folks lost their entire sense of being the moment SOP went offline. Otacon           : You mean SOPS? I heard some people are going through withdrawals... SOP Syndrome. Drebin           : Yup. SOP kept more than just alcohol under control. Those poor slobs are virtually naked now. Otacon           : From what I hear, over 10 percent are showing symptoms. I guess getting rid of the Patriots won't solve all our problems overnight. Drebin           : You probably already suspected this, but... I'm not actually an employee of AT Security. Otacon           : Huh? Drebin           : The Patriots raised me to be a gun launderer. Otacon           : The Patriots? Drebin           : My earliest memories are of the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army)... They kidnapped me... Forced me to fight. Yup. You're staring at a former child soldier. My parents, brothers and sisters... All killed in the war. Guess that makes me what you'd call a war orphan. After that, the Patriots picked me up and brought me into the family business. I was Drebin 893. There's a whole lotta pawns like me all over the world. How you suppose I laundered guns like I did? 'Cause they let me. In fact... I was under strict orders to back you guys from the start. Otacon           : You what? Drebin           : Hey man, don't take it personal. I wasn't the only one under their orders. Otacon           : Huh? Meryl and...? Drebin           : They probably never realized it themselves, but... Rat Patrol Team 01.... Voila! Otacon           : Patriot! Drebin           : Played like a violin. Otacon           : But... Why? Drebin           : Obviously, Liquid's plot was a threat to the Patriots. So they planned to have you guys take care of it. Otacon           : Didn't turn out quite how they planned, though, did it? Drebin           : Yeah, well... I don't think they expected you to crash their System and wipe them out. Otacon           : So does that mean you're out of a job now? Drebin           : Are you kiddin'? I got the DREBINS. All the Drebins in the world are in on it. From now on, we're in business for ourselves. We are pawns no more. Otacon           : Easy there. Drebin           : The White House might've lost its taste for unilateralism... Started to rebuild. But there's a lot of failed states out there that went bankrupt from their PMC habits... And they owe a shit load of money. Now only question is... Who's gonna pick up the tab? I'm sure these new governments will try and keep it under control with PMC corporate reform laws... But it ain't gonna be good enough. They're all sunk up to their eyeballs in the war economy. Might not be a New World Order... But the old order under the war economy's gone for good. I'm guessin' the UN is gonna be more important than ever, what with multilateralism and all. A certain President said it best back during the Cold War... For in the development of this organization rests the only true alternative to war. Then again, the UN itself's just an old 20th-century relic. And if you think about it... When you look at its history... It ain't that different from the Patriots. Otacon           : That's right... The nanomachines used to keep you sober. Drebin           : Crush. Mix. Burn. Repeat.

Based on what Drebin was talking here, there are only two possible outcomes for Sunny's FOXALIVE, neither of which are actually good, in the long run or the short run. On the one hand, you've probably got a booming business for weapons dealers (since the DREBINS, as Drebin 893 pointed out, is a gun laundering group/arms dealer group, and not the legal kind either), which likewise implies that the world is even MORE likely to be at war with each other than before, probably far beyond what even Liquid Ocelot himself envisioned. The other scenario involves the entire world being more broke than Weimar Germany and the United Nations taking over the Patriots role as the NWO organization, arguably being even WORSE than before, meaning the cycle isn't just going to continue, but arguably get even worse, thanks to Sunny, Snake, and Otacon. Put that way, this isn't a bittersweet ending which would indicate at least some positives to the whole thing, it's an outright downer ending with NO ONE winning out, not even Raiden, who has a bone thrown to him for once by letting him actually reunite with his family at long last (in fact, it's about as much of a downer ending as The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson, also The Matrix Revolutions). Actually, if that were the option, letting the Patriots continue to exist and/or having Outer Heaven take over would have been far more preferable options. At least Outer Heaven has a military hierarchy that respects soldiers (and thus really can't qualify as anarchistic since anarchy doesn't allow for any hierarchy, structure, stability, or law and order, viewing such as "oppressive"), and even the Patriots at least attempt to adhere to law and order. Seems like Hideo Kojima just failed to think things through.

Anyways, that's pretty much my two cents on this. There may be more I might think up of later, but for now that covers everything.

[thesearchforbluejello]

Secret Santa!

I’m tardy to the party because I’m apparently one of those assholes who can’t meet a deadline to save her life. My recipient is @beyondtriumvirate, who requested some Kirk/Bones angst. I’ve never written AOS (or TOS for that matter) before, but I had a blast with this. I hope you enjoy it!!! ♥️ Happy holidays!

The one solace Leonard McCoy can find in this complete and utter shitshow is that at least, when all is said and done, he won't die in space.

The Enterprise has been in orbit around this hellhole for the past five days, undergoing regular maintenance to keep the ship operating at peak efficiency. Commander Spock had, of course, sought to maximize the productivity of the stop, convincing Captain Kirk that it would be prudent to send away teams to the planet's surface to conduct a more thorough survey of any potential resources that might be missed while the sensor array was offline.

Bones had, of course, jumped at the chance to escape the ship, and had transported down to the surface with Kirk and a small away team. In hindsight, he can pinpoint the exact moment everything went to hell in a handbasket: as soon as his feet had touched the planet's surface.

"No one told me there were carnivorous insects down here," he'd griped as they hiked towards the feet of the mountains not far from the transporter site.

"Relax Bones," was all Kirk had responded, irritatingly casual as if getting his blood sucked by some deep-space relative of the mosquito did nothing to ruffle his calm.

"The bastards bite, Jim."

"Maybe they're attracted to the loudest warm-blooded creature in the area."

"Then we can expect every insect on the planet to turn up with how loud Ensign Morraney is stomping his feet," he'd snapped, shooting Morraney a pointed look.

Morraney had just frowned and not deigned to place his feet any more quietly.

It had taken more time than anticipated to reach the mountains, on account of the rocky terrain they were stumbling across as they moved. Bones was hot, irritated, and sorely wishing he hadn't been so quick to dismiss the Enterprise as a flying deathtrap, because at least that flying deathtrap had air conditioning.

The away team had sought shade in some cool caves burrowing deep into the mountain. Kirk had sat on a boulder, stretching his legs and handing a canteen to Bones.

"Captain, look at this," Morraney had said, and Bones finds himself now wishing the young man had stomped his feet a little louder as they'd walked and been devoured by the insects before they'd reached the caves.

"What is it?"

"I'm detecting traces of vellerite in the rock."

"Vellerite?" Bones had asked.

"It's a rare mineral, used in the manufacturing of lots of different computer components. We've got loads of them on the Enterprise," Morraney had explained, and Bones had momentarily disliked him a bit less.

"Let's go check it out," Kirk had said. "Morraney, Bones, let's go. Everyone else is to stay here and maintain radio contact with the Enterprise in case the caves obstruct the signal." The team had nodded, and they'd set off deeper into caves.

As it turns out, the away team weren't the only mammals seeking the solace of the cool caves. Morraney's heavy footfalls had echoed off the cave walls, sending a chill down Bones' spine as three sets of footfalls magnified into many, many more. He wasn't the only one to object; a deep, ominous sound made the three officers pause.

"That sounded like an animal," Bones had said.

"What kind of animal?" Kirk had whispered, reaching for his phaser.

"I'm a doctor, not a zookeeper," Bones had hissed back.

There was a sound of heavy footfalls, too frightening a sound for Bones to make a quip to Morraney about at least having something in common with this creature. The officers stood in silence, listening as the footfalls grew closer. Then they heard the animal sniff the air.

"Run!" Kirk had cried.

They'd sprinted back the way they'd came, fleeing the nearing sound of the creature's breath. Kirk had stumbled on the loose rock; Bones had grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him upright, which had placed him directly in the path of the creature's paw as it took a swipe at Kirk. And that was how he came to be lying on the floor of the tunnel, the creature's blood soaking the rocky soil from the wound Morraney's phaser had inflicted, and Bones' own blood soaking his shirt and Kirk's hands.

"Wake up," Kirk snaps, pressing down a little harder on the gashes carved through Bones' torso.

"I'm awake," he grunts against the pain.

"I sent Moranney for help," Kirk says.

"I know, I can hear him running," Bones deadpans.

"It's not funny."

"At least I didn't get spaced."

"Damnit Bones, stop cracking jokes and tell me what to do."

"What color is the blood?" he asks, the pain too great for him to move enough to see.

"What?"

"Red, or really red?"

"Really red."

"Then it probably nicked an artery," he pants. "Just-- keep the pressure of your hands in the center of my torso. Fuck," He grunts as Kirk shifts his hands.

"How do I stop the bleeding?"

"You can't. Not without the right equipment." He groans as Kirk's panic causes his hands to press down more insistently.

"Then what do I do?"

"You wait," Bones says. "I'm already dizzy," he breathes. "My heart rate is going to rise as my heart struggles to push such a low amount of blood through my body. I'm going to lose consciousness as my brain is deprived of oxygen. My heart might stop before help arrives." Kirk's eyes are wild with panic. "Don't resuscitate me; keep pressure on the wounds. With my heart not beating, I'll lose less blood. They can resuscitate me when they arrive and heal any damage that lack of oxygen will do to my brain."

"What?!"

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be the one telling me not to panic," Bones says drily.

"This would be so much easier if it had gotten me instead."

"No," Bones says. "I wouldn't be able to do anything that you're not doing right now."

"You're a doctor."

"Exactly. And as a doctor, I know that there's sometimes nothing that can be done, Jim. Either they get here in time, or they don't." He closes his eyes against a wave of coldness that washes over him.

"Bones?!"

He tries to reply, but finds that, for once, he can't manage to get the words out.

***

"Son of a bitch," Bones grunts as he tries to sit up. A hand presses him back to the bed and he looks up into blue eyes framed by lines of worry.

"Easy," Kirk says, his hand firm against Bones' shoulder to dissuade him from moving again.

Bones looks around, finding the familiar ceiling and walls of sickbay. "Oh good," he says drily, looking back at Kirk. "I lived."

Kirk's concern melts into a smile, and, after a moment, Bones grins too.

[bookingbuys-blog]

Is Colombia Safe to Visit?

Posted: 6/22/2019 | June 22nd, 2019 Colombia is one of the most popular countries in South America for backpackers and travelers. In 2017 (the last year there were figures), it saw over three million visitors — three times as many as there were 10 years ago! Over the past few decades, Colombia has been working hard to dispel the violent image it earned thanks to the drug cartels that once ravaged the country. While Colombia still isn’t perfect, it’s come a long way since our parents’ generation. Violent crimes that were once common here, such as murder and kidnapping, are no longer everyday concerns for travelers. Kidnapping has declined 92% and homicides are down by 50% over the past two decades. Slowly but surely, conditions in Colombia are improving for locals and tourists alike. But a lot of people still ask me: is Colombia is safe? Table of Contents My Experience in Colombia 10 Safety Tips for Colombia Is Colombia Safe for Solo Travelers? Is Colombia Safe for Solo Female Travelers? Is it Safe to Take a Taxi in Colombia? Is the Food Safe in Colombia? Can You Drink the Tap Water in Colombia? Should You Visit Colombia?   My Experience in Colombia Before I went to Colombia, I’d heard countless stories of petty theft. While there, I heard even more. A friend of mine had been robbed three times, the last time at gunpoint while on his way to meet me for dinner. Locals and expats alike told me the same thing: the rumors of petty theft are true, but if you keep your wits about you, follow the rules, and don’t flash your valuables, you’ll be OK. There’s even a local expression about it: “No dar papaya” (Don’t give papaya). Essentially, it means that you shouldn’t have something “sweet” out in the open (a phone, computer, watch, etc.) that would make you a target. Keep your valuables hidden, don’t wander around places you shouldn’t at night, don’t flash money around, avoid coming out of nightlife spots alone at night, etc. Simply put: don’t put yourself in a position where people can take advantage of you. I heeded such advice. I didn’t wear headphones in public. I didn’t take my phone out unless I was in a group or a restaurant, or completely sure no one else was around. I took just enough money with me for the day when I left my hostel. I warned friends about wearing flashy jewelry or watches when they visited. But the longer you are somewhere, the more complacent you get. When you see locals on their phones in crowded areas, tourists toting thousand-dollar cameras, and kids wearing Airpods and Apple Watches, you begin to think, “OK, during the day, maybe it’s not so bad.” Suddenly, you step out of a café with your phone out without even thinking about it. You’re giving papaya. And someone wants to take it. Which is how I ended up getting mugged and knifed. (I’m OK.) This was also just a matter of being unlucky and not specific to Colombia. A wrong-time-wrong-place situation. It could have happened to me anywhere where I didn’t follow the safety rules that help you minimize risk. The experience reminded me of why you can’t get complacent. I gave papaya. I shouldn’t have had my phone out. It didn’t matter the time of day. That’s the rule in Colombia. Keep your valuables hidden. (Especially in Bogotá, which does have a higher rate of petty crime than elsewhere in the country.) I didn’t follow the advice. And I got unlucky because of it. I’d been having my phone out too often and, with each non-incident, I grew more and more relaxed. I kept dropping my guard. What happened was unlucky, but it didn’t need to happen if I had followed the rules. This is why people warned me to be careful. So, if you follow the rules, you’re unlikely to have a problem. All those incidents I talked about earlier? All involved people breaking the ironclad “no dar papaya” rule and either having something valuable out or walking alone late at night in areas where they shouldn’t have. I’m not going to let this freak incident change my view of such an amazing country. I’d go back to Colombia the same way I’d get in a car after a car accident. In fact, I was terribly upset to leave. I was having an amazing time. I still love Bogotá. I still have plans to go back to Colombia. Colombia is amazing. Learn from my mistake. Not only for when you visit Colombia but when you travel in general.   10 Safety Tips for Colombia You can’t get complacent in Colombia. Once you do, bad things happen. You have to stay vigilant. To help you stay safe during your trip, here are a few tips you’ll want to keep in mind as you travel around the country: 1. Stay somewhere with 24-hour security – You always want someone around in case you need assistance. Most hostels and hotels have security cameras or guards. If you don’t feel safe somewhere, don’t hesitate to move on. This way you always have someone to talk to in case something goes wrong. 2. Don’t flash your belongings while you’re out and about – Keep your phone out of sight, and don’t wear any jewelry or watches. If you need to use your phone, do it inside and not out on the street. This is where people get in the most trouble. This is how I got into trouble. Put everything away so you don’t stand out. 3. Don’t travel alone at night – Try to go out with other travelers if you’re going out at night. If you do plan to go out alone or party late, be sure to take an Uber home or have someone call you a cab. Don’t walk alone really late at night. 4. Learn some Spanish – Even just a few phrases can help you in an emergency. Download Spanish on Google Translator so you have it offline as well, just in case. 5. Download an offline map of the city – Having a map will be helpful in case you get lost and need to guide yourself (or a taxi driver) back to your accommodation. If you use your phone at night, be sure to not use it out in the streets. 6. Don’t do drugs – The drugs cartels have crippled this country. Don’t support them by buying drugs. Locals don’t like it because drugs have so devasted the country and doing it just further cripples the country. It’s really disrespectful. Additionally, getting involved with drugs here increases your chances of getting into trouble. Also, doing drugs here is illegal, and you don’t want to end up in a Colombian prison. 7. Keep your valuables separate – Never carry all of them together. When you’re going out for the day, leave some credit cards and cash in locked in your accommodation. That way, if you lose your wallet, you’ll still have cash and cards back at your hostel. Also keep some emergency funds in your main backpack too, just in case. 8. If the worst happens, just give the attacker your stuff – Handing over your things is much better than risking the alternative (trust me). If you have travel insurance, you’ll be able to get reimbursed (just be sure to save all of your receipts). 9 . Download the Prey app to your phone and laptop – If either device gets stolen, for a small fee you’ll be able to track it and remotely turn on your camera to photograph the thief (you can also wipe the data and message the thief too). The app is free to download and only costs $5 USD for additional support should you get robbed. 10. Buy travel insurance – If something does go wrong, you want to be sure you’re covered and someone has your back. Travel insurance can help you find medical treatment and give you money to buy replacements for what was stolen. It’s always better to be safe than sorry, especially in a country where petty crime is still a problem.   So, is Colombia Safe for Solo Travelers? Colombia is safe for solo travelers. While petty crime is still a problem, as long as you don’t flaunt your valuables, you’ll likely not run into any problems. When you go out, only take what you need for the day and leave your other valuables in your hostel or hotel room. If you’re not feeling comfortable, try to meet other travelers so you can explore together. That way you’ll never be alone and will avoid being a target for pickpockets and petty criminals. At night, make sure you’re never traveling alone and that you have your ride home planned in advance. Don’t get into sketchy cabs. Avoid wandering around non-touristy areas at night and alone. I never felt really unsafe in the country during the day or in public places. You’ll see locals with phones out and, generally, going about their life. It’s really at night that you have to be careful.   Is Colombia Safe for Solo Female Travelers? While solo female travelers will want to take some extra precautions in Colombia, the country should definitely still be under consideration. Whenever possible, avoid traveling alone — especially at night or in areas where there are not many people. Don’t flaunt any valuables, and avoid taking taxis alone at night. Always have a downloaded map and translator so you can find your way home or ask for help if you need it. By taking some precautions and planning accordingly, solo female travelers will be able to have a rewarding time traveling Colombia. Just make sure to follow the advice and tips above! Here are a couple of helpful posts on safety written by our solo female travel experts: How to Stay Safe as a Solo Female Traveler 8 Myths About Solo Female Travel Debunked 10 Common Qsestions About Solo Female Travel   Is it Safe to Take a Taxi in Colombia? Taxis are safe here, but always make sure you call your taxi in advance. Never get into a random vehicle. Even if it looks like a taxi, it might not be one. It’s always better to play it safe. Get your hostel or accommodation to call a cab for you, or download a taxi app (Uber is in Medellín, Cali, and Bogotá) so you can order your own. Avoid taking taxis at night as well (especially as a solo female traveler).   Is the Food Safe in Colombia? The food in Colombia is quite safe. Just make sure to avoid any food that’s been sitting out in the sun all day. Look for places with lots of patrons — that’s how you can tell the food is fresh and delicious. Also, make sure any fruit you eat has a peel to avoid it getting contaminated. If you’re a vegetarian or have other dietary concerns, you might be hard pressed to find food here, as most dishes are meat-based. Learn some basic phrases (or download Google Translate) to help you ask questions and find foods suitable for your diet. Lastly, always wash your hands before you eat. That’s the best way to avoid getting sick!   Can You Drink the Tap Water in Colombia? While improvements in water treatment are coming along, you can’t really drink the water outside of Bogotá and Medellín. I’d suggest you travel with a Lifestraw or Steripen so you can purify water no matter where you are. That will help you save money and reduce your reliance on single-use plastic. Double win!   Should You Visit Colombia? So, is Colombia safe? Yes. While petty theft is a growing concern, the country has so much to offer the intrepid traveler. There is amazing nature, vibrant cities, a fun nightlife, and a growing community of entrepreneurs and digital nomads who call Colombia home. It’s cheap and easy to navigate, and as long as you follow your instincts and use common sense, you will avoid trouble. Even if you’re a solo female traveler, Colombia still has a lot to offer. So, while my personal experience in Colombia didn’t end well, I am definitely planning on going back. Because it’s just too amazing a place not to visit. Just be sure to get travel insurance just in case something goes wrong. The past is not prologue and you always want to play it safe. Travel insurance was there when I lost my bag, broke my camera, and got knifed in Colombia. I never expected those things to happen and was glad I had insurance! You can use the widget below to look up the travel insurance policy that is right for you (or just click here to go to their website directly):   Book Your Trip to Colombia: Logistical Tips and Tricks Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is left unturned. Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and cheap hotels. I use them all the time. Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are: World Nomads (for everyone below 70) Insure My Trip (for those over 70) Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all the ones I use to save money when I travel – and I think will help you too! Looking for more information on visiting Colombia? Check out my in-depth destination guide to Colombia with more tips on what to see, do, costs, ways to save, and much, much more! The post Is Colombia Safe to Visit? appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

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[fear-god-shun-evil]

I Understood the Relationship Between the Bible and God Through Watching Films and Welcomed the Lord’s Return

My Church Is Desolate, so I Search for a Way Out

I was baptized into the Lord Jesus’ name in 1999, and since then, I began to actively participate in church service work. But gradually, I discovered that many things in my church were not in keeping with God’s will. For example, in spite of the church rules about subsidies and the objections of many co-workers, my pastor privately decided to pay with the church money for all the expenses of his nephew while he studied at the seminary; in doing church work, some co-workers even failed to attend the co-workers meeting because of their family affairs. … Seeing all this greatly disappointed me and so I decided to stop serving in the church. Although I had a successful career, I always felt something lacking and felt even more empty when alone. Therefore, I started looking for a way out and pinned my hopes on Facebook.

My pastors have been warning us ten years ago, “Don’t contact The Church of Almighty God (CAG). Their preaching deviates from the Bible.” So, I became very cautious and never lightly added anyone as my friend on FB. In 2017, I friended Sister Linda after much consideration and since then, we have always been chatting about our spiritual condition, sharing what we had gained from meetings, and praying for each other.

What Should I Do After Hearing God’s Voice for the First Time?

One day, Sister Linda told me, “The Brother Lin I know is investigating CAG and he said the Lord Jesus has already returned as Almighty God incarnate.” Hearing this, I was shocked, and thought to myself, “How can this be?” I was very careful in choosing FB friends so as not to come into contact with people from CAG. However, the Brother Lin Sister Linda knew was investigating the work of Almighty God and what’s more, she even advised me to investigate as well. I thought: “No, my pastors always tell us that their preaching departs from the Bible and don’t allow us to contact them, and say that in doing so we are betraying God.” Therefore, I refused at once.

The next day, Sister Linda again asked me on the phone to investigate CAG. Considering how we were able to complement each other in spiritual life and afraid of losing face, I agreed. I thought: “In any case, people from CAG can’t see me. If I don’t want to listen more, I’ll get offline.” Because I had the wrong state of mind, I didn’t take much in at the meeting. After it was over, I told Sister Linda impatiently: “I’m not interested in investigating CAG. Please don’t invite me again.” After saying this, I hang up impolitely.

After that, I lay down on the bed. I could not calm down, thinking: “The Lord’s return is an important matter. However, my pastors always emphasize that our belief in God must be in accordance with the Bible, the canon of Christianity and the highest authority, that departing from the Bible is heresy, and that the preaching of CAG is beyond the Bible.” I tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep that night, as I kept thinking: “How could such a thing come to me? What should I choose?” All I could do in my bewilderment was come before the Lord and pray, asking Him to lead and guide me. For the next few days, I searched online day and night for the information about CAG and whenever I saw some negative information about it, I would comfort myself saying: “My decision not to investigate again is right.”

However, afterward, the thought occurred to me that everything had two sides, so how could there be only negative reviews of CAG? No, I had to get to the bottom of this. Thereupon, I started searching things published by CAG. As I watched CAG’s hymn video Christ’s Kingdom Is a Warm Home, it warmed my heart and aroused my interest. As a result, I went to watch many other videos of CAG after that. During that time, I watched videos until late at night almost every day, sometimes until morning without being conscious of it. Of those videos, the movie—I Am a Good Person!—moved me most. This movie is about a person who is good in the eyes of worldly people but is very cunning in the eyes of God because she does not conduct herself according to the principles of the truth. Indeed, we should live by the truth—what is right is right, and what is wrong is wrong. This movie had me suddenly understand: “I’m not a truly good person either. I treat others well and go along with others in everything in order to establish myself in society; what I pursue is Satan’s philosophies.” I watched this movie five times and it never failed to stab at my heart and move me to tears.

I watched dozens of movies of CAG in that week, and found them to be quite positive, not something heretical at all. I pondered: “If this church were really like what my pastor said, how would it be able to produce so many movies that give supply to people’s life? Many denominations claim themselves to be orthodox Christianity, but they fail to make many wonderful videos that witness God. If CAG hadn’t arisen from God, who would have willingly devoted energy, time and money to making these movies? Moreover, an increasing number of people are accepting the work of Almighty God. If it were not God’s own work, who could do such great deeds? This is just like what Gamaliel said: ‘For if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nothing: But if it be of God, you cannot overthrow it; lest haply you be found even to fight against God’ (Acts 5:38–39).” However, I still had some confusion. Why didn’t they read the Bible but instead read The Word Appears in the Flesh? My pastors said that straying from the Bible was heresy. Nevertheless, after much thought, I told myself, “However much confusion I have, even if there is only a one in a hundred chance to welcome the Lord, I’m willing to grasp it rather than miss it.”

Is It Really Heresy to Depart From the Bible?

One day, as I was browsing the videos of CAG, this sentence popped up: “Is It Really Heresy to Depart From the Bible?” This sentence piqued my interest immediately, so I stopped searching. I thought, “My pastors always say that we must read the Bible in our belief in the Lord, and that straying from the Bible is heresy. This is what I’ve always thought too. Therefore, when my pastors told us that people from CAG don’t read the Bible but another book, I began to develop resistance toward CAG and was not willing to contact them, much less listen to their preaching. But, through watching various videos of CAG this period of time, I feel that all of their content is very positive. It doesn’t feel like a heresy at all. I might as well click the video to have a look and figure out this question.” Then, I couldn’t wait to open this video.

In the movie, Sister Wang fellowshiped: “You just said that God wouldn’t depart from the Bible to do the work of salvation, and anything that does is heresy. This brings to mind a question for me: Which was first, the Bible, or God’s work?”

Hearing this question, I said to myself, “Of course God’s work came first.”

Sister Wang continued: “That’s right! In the beginning, Jehovah God created heaven and earth, all things. He carried out work such as destroying the world with the flood, and destroying Sodom and Gomorrah. When God did these things, did the Old Testament exist?”

“No, it didn’t. God is the Beginning. When He created the heavens and earth and all things, there was even no written language, let alone the Bible!” I answered silently in my heart.

Sister Wang went on saying: “That’s right, when God was doing these things there really was no Bible. That is to say, God’s work came first, and only after that was it recorded in the Bible. And in the Age of Grace, when the Lord Jesus came to work there was no New Testament of the Bible. More than three hundred years AD, religious leaders from all over the world gathered in a conference and selected Four Gospels from the disciples’ records of the facts of the Lord Jesus’ work. They also added some of the letters the apostles wrote to the churches, as well as the Book of Revelation written by the disciple John. They compiled all of these things to make up the New Testament of the Bible. Brothers and sisters, from the process of the Bible becoming the book that it is, we can know that it is only a record of God’s past work. Without God’s work, we would not have the record of the Bible, which is to say that God would not work based on what is in the Bible. He is not restricted by the Bible because God just carries out His work of salvation according to His own plan and mankind’s needs. So, we cannot limit God’s work to just what is within the Bible, nor can we use the Bible to define His work. We particularly cannot say ‘Anything that departs from the Bible is a heresy,’ because God has the right to do His own work, and He has the right to depart from the Bible and do His work.”

After I heard these things from Sister Wang, I suddenly saw the light. Yes, God’s work came first, and the Bible came after. How come I never once thought of such a simple problem? When the Lord Jesus came to carry out His work, there was no New Testament yet, the New Testament wasn’t formed until over three hundred years after the Lord. After God did some work, God’s followers recorded what God had done so that people could understand and get to know God more and thus the Bible was created. The sister’s fellowship was all true and irrefutable. God is the Creator and how He does His work is His own affair. As a small creature, I was unqualified to define God’s work—that was too senseless.

I continued watching the movie and saw Sister Yang from CAG fellowship: “That’s right, if we say that ‘Anything that departs from the Bible is a heresy,’ then aren’t we condemning God’s work throughout the ages? Everyone knows that at that time, the work of the Lord Jesus was not based on the Old Testament. He preached the way of repentance, He healed the sick, cast out demons, did not observe the Sabbath, forgave others seventy times seven times, and more. None of these things appeared in the Old Testament, and they were even completely contradictory to the laws of the Old Testament. The Jewish priests, elders, and scribes of the time condemned the work of the Lord Jesus as heresy precisely because His work was not carried out according to the Old Testament. I remember that in Acts 24:14, Paul said, ‘But this I confess to you, that after the way which they call heresy, so worship I the God of my fathers, believing all things which are written in the law and in the prophets.’ Everyone think for a moment: If we were to weigh this based on our own perspectives, what Paul preached would have been heresy, so how could we not condemn the way of the Lord Jesus that we believe in today?”

Hearing this, I was taken aback: “Indeed, at that time the chief priests, scribes and Pharisees condemned the Lord Jesus’ work as heresy, because His work went beyond the Old Testaments. If I don’t seek and investigate God’s new work and think according to my notions and imaginings that any belief apart from the Bible is a heresy, then won’t I condemn God’s work? Moreover, If the Lord Jesus has really returned, won’t I miss the opportunity to greet the Lord’s return and lose His salvation?” With this in my mind, I felt a bit scared and didn’t dare stubbornly hold on to my notions and imaginings anymore.

Finding the Answer

Then, I saw Sister Wang continue to say: “As for the issue we’ve discussed today, please allow us to read some of Almighty God’s words together. ‘No one knows the reality of the Bible: that it is nothing more than a historical record of God’s work, and a testament to the previous two stages of God’s work, and offers you no understanding of the aims of God’s work. Everyone who has read the Bible knows that it documents the two stages of God’s work during the Age of Law and the Age of Grace. The Old Testament chronicles the history of Israel and Jehovah’s work from the time of creation until the end of the Age of Law. The New Testament records Jesus’ work on earth, which is in the Four Gospels, as well as the work of Paul; are they not historical records?’ ‘The Bible is a historical book, and if you had eaten and drunk the Old Testament during the Age of Grace—if you had put into practice what was required in the time of the Old Testament during the Age of Grace—Jesus would have rejected you, and condemned you; if you had applied the Old Testament to the work of Jesus, you would have been a Pharisee. … During the time of Jesus, Jesus led the Jews and all those who followed Him according to the Holy Spirit’s work in Him at the time. He didn’t take the Bible as the basis of what He did, but spoke according to His work; He paid no heed to what the Bible said, nor did He search in the Bible for a path to lead His followers. Right from when He began to work, He spread the way of repentance—a word of which there was absolutely no mention in the prophecies of the Old Testament. Not only did He not act according to the Bible, but He also led a new path, and did new work. Never did He refer to the Bible when He preached. During the Age of Law, no one had ever been able to perform His miracles of healing the sick and casting out demons. So, too, were His work, His teachings, and the authority and power of His words beyond any man during the Age of Law. Jesus simply did His newer work, and even though many people condemned Him using the Bible—and even used the Old Testament to crucify Him—His work surpassed the Old Testament; if this were not so, why did people nail Him to the cross? Was it not because it said nothing in the Old Testament of His teaching, and His ability to heal the sick and cast out demons? His work was in order to lead a new path, it was not to deliberately pick a fight against the Bible, or to deliberately dispense with the Old Testament. He simply came to perform His ministry, to bring the new work to those who yearned for and sought Him. He didn’t come to explain the Old Testament or uphold its work. His work was not in order to allow the Age of Law to continue developing, for His work gave no consideration to whether it had the Bible as its base; Jesus simply came to do the work that He ought to do. … After all, which is greater: God or the Bible? Why must God’s work be according to the Bible? Could it be that God has no right to exceed the Bible? Can God not depart from the Bible and do other work? Why did Jesus and His disciples not keep the Sabbath? If He were to keep the Sabbath and practice according to the commandments of the Old Testament, why did Jesus not keep the Sabbath after He came, but instead washed feet, covered head, broke bread, and drank wine? Isn’t this all absent from the commandments of the Old Testament? If Jesus honored the Old Testament, why did He defy these doctrines? You should know which came first, God or the Bible!’”

Then Sister Wang fellowshiped: “Through God’s words, we have understood that for many years, we have all conflated God with the Bible. We have all thought that all believers in God must believe in the Bible, and all those who depart from the Bible cannot be called believers, that it is heresy. The truth is that the Bible only encompasses a true record of God’s first two stages of work. That is, the Bible is a true testimony of God’s two stages of work of guiding and redeeming mankind after He created heaven and earth and all things, and mankind. It does not represent all of God’s work for saving mankind. The words of God that are recorded in the Bible are too limited! They are just a tiny fraction of the expression of His life disposition, and they do not represent all of it! God’s work is not based on the Bible, and it does not refer to the Bible, and He particularly does not find His way from within the Bible to lead His followers. God’s work is always moving forward. He opens up a new age, and He does new work. That is, He indicates a new path for mankind, bestows even higher truths upon us, and allows us to gain greater salvation from Him! That is why He will not lead mankind based on His old work. He will not work based on the Bible because He is not merely the Lord of the Sabbath, but He is also the Lord of the Bible! He fully has the right to step outside the bounds of the Bible and to do new work according to His own plan and the current needs of mankind! God’s work in the new age and His work in the old ages recorded in the Bible couldn’t possibly be the same. So saying that ‘Departing from the Bible is heresy’ does not stand at all!”

After watching this, I felt very ashamed. Yes, the Bible was nothing more than a testament to the previous two stages of God’s work and the records in it were too limited. From when God created the heavens and earth and all things, to when He led mankind’s life on earth in the Age of Law, to when the Lord Jesus redeemed mankind in the Age of Grace, God performed innumerable works on man and spoke innumerable words, so how could the New and Old Testaments possibly contain all of it? If I delimited God’s words and work to the Bible, believed that departing from the Bible was heresy, and used the Bible in place of God, would I not then be treating God with contempt? Would I not then be so arrogant?

Following God’s Footsteps and Receiving the Provision of the Living Water of Life

One day, while watching the film Come Out of the Bible, I was drawn to a passage of fellowship in it: “There’s no eternal life in the Bible. Even though this doesn’t accord with our own notions, this is a fact that cannot be denied because when the Lord Jesus rebuked the Pharisees long ago, He warned people: ‘Search the scriptures; for in them you think you have eternal life: and they are they which testify of Me. And you will not come to Me, that you might have life’ (John 5:39–40). The Lord Jesus clearly indicated that there is no eternal life in the Bible, and if people want to gain eternal life by relying on the Bible, that is wrong! The Bible just bears witness to God, but if people want to gain the truth and life in their belief in God, just relying on the Bible is not enough. Gaining the truth, and gaining life must come from Christ!”

Yes, the Lord Jesus told us long ago that the Bible did not contain eternal life and was merely a witness for Him, and that only He has the truth, the way, and the life. I went on watching this film and saw Sister Yang read a passage of God’s words, “Since there is a higher way, why study that low, outdated way? Since there are newer utterances, and newer work, why live amid old historical records? The new utterances can provide for you, which proves that this is the new work; the old records can’t sate you, or satisfy your current needs, which proves that they are history, and not the work of the here and now. The highest way is the newest work, and with the new work, no matter how high the way of the past, it is still the history of people’s reflections, and no matter its value as reference, it is still the old way. Even though it is recorded in the ‘holy book,’ the old way is history; even though there is no record of it in the ‘holy book,’ the new way is of the here and now. This way can save you, and this way can change you, for this is the work of the Holy Spirit.”

Sister Zhao gave fellowship, saying, “Although God’s work in the last days was only prophesied in the Bible, and there were no actual records of it, it is based on mankind’s actual needs and it is work that is deepened and made loftier based on the foundation of the Bible. Just like when the Lord Jesus came, although He didn’t work according to the Old Testament, He did work according to mankind’s requirements and God’s own plan. He completed a stage of the work of redemption on the foundation of the work of the law, that is, He completed a new, loftier stage of work on the foundation of the Old Testament. In that stage of work, He didn’t revoke the old law, but perfected it.” Then Sister Yang fellowshiped this, “Yes, and likewise, in the last days today, God is doing another stage of newer, loftier work on the foundation of the Lord Jesus’ work of redemption based on mankind’s needs, based on God’s management plan, uttering so many words that can purify and save mankind. He is also revealing all the mysteries of God’s management plan. These are things that God never said in the Age of Law or in the Age of Grace. They are also the scroll, the seven seals that God is opening up in the last days. This fulfills the prophecy in the Book of Revelation: ‘He that has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches’ (Revelation 2:7). It is also written in Revelation 5:1–5: ‘And I saw in the right hand of Him that sat on the throne a book written within and on the backside, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, Who is worthy to open the book, and to loose the seals thereof? And no man in heaven, nor in earth, neither under the earth, was able to open the book, neither to look thereon. And I wept much, because no man was found worthy to open and to read the book, neither to look thereon. And one of the elders said to me, Weep not: behold, the Lion of the tribe of Juda, the Root of David, has prevailed to open the book, and to loose the seven seals thereof.’ These prophecies only existed after the Lord Jesus had completed His work. It goes without saying that these prophecies are certainly the things that God is going to achieve, as well as the work of salvation that God is going to do in the last days. Now, God has become flesh and has come to utter words. He has done a stage of the work of judgment and purification, and has uttered many words that can allow people to be saved. These words are not in the Bible, but are words that are outside of the Bible. These enriching words of life are the way of life God has bestowed upon mankind in the last days, and they are the only path for man’s salvation. If we refuse to accept them, we will never be able to be truly watered by the living water of God’s life, and we will never be able to gain the truth or life from God.”

Seeing this, I understood that if I wished to gain life I had to come out of the Bible and follow God’s footsteps, and only then could I gain God’s salvation. At the same time, I also understood that God’s work forges ever onward: In the Age of Law, Jehovah God proclaimed the laws and led people in their lives, so that they learned to worship God; in the Age of Grace, the Lord Jesus incarnated to do His work of redeeming mankind—He was crucified and took on man’s sin to redeem man from sin; in the last days, based upon the Lord Jesus’ work of redemption, Almighty God has done the stage of work of judgment beginning from God’s house and has expressed words to judge and purify mankind, so that we can thoroughly escape the bondage of sin. God’s last days’ work doesn’t stray from the Bible. Instead, it is a newer and higher work carried out on the foundation of God’s work in the Age of Law and the Age of Grace. The three stages of work are closely linked together, complementing one another. The Bible in the Age of Kingdom—The Word Appears in the Flesh—is the way of eternal life God bestows upon man. Only by following God’s new work can I receive the provision of the living water of life. If I clung stubbornly to the Bible and failed to follow God’s new work, I would end up suffering a famine.

Afterward, I initiated contact with the brothers and sisters of CAG and began my life in the church. I recalled how I not only had no heart whatsoever to seek when I learned that the Lord has returned to do new work, but blindly held to my notions and rejected God’s new work. I really was too stupid and blind! Thank God for leading me, I heard His voice through watching these videos and welcomed the Lord’s appearance. This is God’s grace and blessings. All the glory be to Almighty God! Amen!

[kyberled]

☁ Have you ever forgiven a partner when you shouldn't have?

Salt Meme

As a matter of fact, I have, though thankfully it wasn’t in this fandom, but one I only recently trundled back to, and one from way back that I don’t think I’m ever going to be going back to for a number of reasons.

Oddly enough, this person from the very old fandom wasn’t even a part of the fandom I was in. It was a crossover type thing, and the first crossover I’d ever written. But there was a lot of vagueblogging on her part whenever I did anything they didn’t like. And by that, I mean the dash was flooded with posts saying that ‘this person’ didn’t ship things like they thought they did, TAGGED WITH OUR CHARACTERS, and going on to complain ON THE DASH to her mutuals that ‘some person’ (still tagged with our ship) was making their anxiety and depression worse. My crime? I didn’t have my muse kiss theirs within thirty in-reply minutes (tops; probably less) of them first meeting. I ended up fanmailing them saying it wasn’t that I didn’t ship them, it’s just that I wanted to take it slow, and after that they went back to acting like we were best friends while spamming my inbox with messages about their wedding.

I wish I was joking.

It’s also worth noting that I was a teenager, and the other person was, according to their rules page, in their twenties. This only happened one or two more times before I blocked them, but the more I thought about about it, the more I kind of wished I got out sooner, but at the same time, I’m just glad I got out at all.

The other person was in a bigger fandom, and they were writing with some other people I know and consider friends. They introduced themselves by messaging me right after they followed, saying, ‘Hi, I’m [person I’m still good friends with]’s friend! [They] recommended your blog to me, so I thought I’d say hi! My name’s [name]!” … Or something along that vein. Introduced themselves, added that they’d heard about me from a mutual friend, and that was the last normal conversation I had with them, outside of a few attempts at plotting. 

This person would come into my IMs at odd hours and just complain to me. I didn’t even really know this person’s name, and they would just dump their life problems in the IMs. Like how their best friend was stressed in college, so they were not gonna contact her by their own choice, but now they were sad and missed her and anxious and yeah, I get that that sucks, but I was a complete stranger? And they’d go on and on and I could hardly get a word in edgewise. Whenever I did manage to say anything and try to comfort them or offer advice, they’d shut me down, give lists of reasons why my suggestions wouldn’t work, and go back to complaining at me. This happened literally all of the time, it was all they’d talk to me about. They also really liked hounding me about being agender, too? I’ll give an example of this in a bit.

I feel like I should clarify, here, that I enjoy helping my friends with their problems. I like being a shoulder to cry on. But the emphasis is on ‘my friends’. People I am comfortable with. I would also appreciate some warning? Even just a ‘hey, can I vent to you for a sec?’ at least lets me get in the right mindset to be able to deal with this sort of thing. I got no warning from this person. It’s also nice to talk about something else from time to time? But, no, it was just a constant stream of negativity from them. I’m being completely serious when I say I couldn’t make a single post on either of my blogs without them messaging me. It was actually kind of terrifying, to say the least. Had to start developing a routine based on when they were usually offline to avoid being harassed. 

It didn’t take me too long to consider blocking them, because of the outpouring of negativity, but also because they kept dropping threads without telling me, then talking about how I was ignoring them, to me, and THEN requesting starters and completely ignoring ALL THREE OF THE STARTERS i’D JUST WRITTEN THEM, and THEN saying they were too lazy or kept forgetting to look the starters up? But I was the one who was ignoring them. The day I was first about to block them, they message me about how their friends are all blocking them. I briefly wonder if they’re a telepath. They say, after a very long rant, something along the lines of ‘but at least I have you, Jay. You’d never do that, you’re my best friend. I’m lucky to have you’. And on the one hand, I’m thinking, you know, what the hell, since when were we best friends? And I know that sounds mean, but I’d barely spoken to them, both because they never listened and because I was super uncomfortable talking to them; we barely interacted IC because they kept dropping threads and outright ignoring things I’d write for them; I never made an effort to contact them since the conversation was always focused solely on how bad their life was; We’d only been in contact for a month or two, tops, and it took about a year for Rodi and I (or my irl highschool best friend, Hannah, and I) to get to True BFF Level; Never once did they show any concern for me, or really anyone aside from themselves; Honestly, I’m kind of surprised they even knew my name. But I’m their best friend, apparently, and now of course I feel super guilty, because I was about to block them, and now I was the bad guy.

Oh, and to add on to all this, they forced headcanons on my muse. Once again, I feel like I need to clarify: I love people bouncing headcanons off me. If you think Braig would like XY thing, tell me; If you have an idea of a scenario for our muses together, send me it, I’d love to hear it. I’ll even reblog that ‘tell me your headcanons for my muse’ meme. I love it.

What this person did was different. This person, without asking, conferring with me, or even giving me any warning, they decided my muse was a child abuser. I don’t think I need to elaborate on why that was a bad thing. This went against my headcanons, contradicted canon at some points, and made no sense to me, but apparently my muse was now a child abuser. Eugh.

Oh, and before I give a brief run-down on what finally prompted me to block this person, I feel it’s worth mentioning that when we’d first started talking, I’d just turned eighteen, and they were twenty-one. 

Anyway, so the straw that finally sucker-punched the camel in the jaw was when they messaged me after A Day. I was tired, hungry, had been in class all morning and in line at the campus book store for half an hour, and my arms were loaded down with textbooks. I was sort of struggling through tumblr for something to do, but typing was pretty hard. This person swings into my IMs and starts a suspiciously normal conversation - Actually asks me about school, what my major is, etc etc. I’m giving one-word replies for the most part, both because I’m not in the most social mood (and I’m not comfortable with this person to begin with), and because I don’t have the hands free to type long sentences anyway. But I’m starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this person has turned over a new leaf. Maybe I was right for giving them so many chances. And then, in the middle of the conversation, zero warning, they say:

“Are you out to your family, yet?”

And I’m just stunned. I had no idea how to respond. After a minute or more of me just staring, not answering, they add, ‘can I ask that?’, and I had no idea what to say in return aside from something like ‘no, I’m not, and I don’t know if I ever will be’, hoping to end the conversation. This person then starts complaining at me for not being out, because they wanted help with getting their family to remember their pronouns. I offered some suggestions anyways, those were all ignored, and out came more rants about how terrible their life was. 

I blocked them not long after, after speaking to two close friends who agreed that I probably should’ve done so earlier.

So, yeah, those are the two instances that come to mind. I’m a bit more careful with who I chill with, now, and I’ve learned to be pretty blunt when shutting this stuff down, so it hasn’t happened since. \o/

[bcyloving]

𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 this week is rather busy for me so ic replies will be a lot slower, but i'll try my best to get them out as often as possible. feel free to chat with me ooc during this time, though, because i'll be on & off tumblr messenger & discord frequently.

[entergamingxp]

Microsoft Flight Simulator is a once-in-a-generation wow moment • Eurogamer.net

Of course, the first thing I do in the new Microsoft Flight Simulator is fly over my house. Heading out from London City Airport in the nimble, aerobatic Extra 330LT, and up into the late evening sky to see the sun melt into the horizon. Skimming The O2, then grazing the tips of Canary Wharf’s mob of skyscrapers before banking left over the Isle of Dogs, buzzing the Royal Naval College as we head up over Greenwich Park and then Blackheath as London blooms into parkland south of the Thames.

Then it’s simply a case of looking out for the cluster of buildings that marks Lewisham to the right, dipping right then left once again to pick up the Waterlink Way. And there it is. My home. In a video game, for what I’m pretty sure is the very first time. I step away from the controls and out into my garden, slightly dizzy from it all, only to see the sky has darkened to the exact same shade of hazy blue as the one I was just flying through.

Microsoft Flight Simulator isn’t the first game to pull in real-world map or weather data to make for a more authentic simulation, nor is it the first game to try and bring us the entire world. But there’s an alchemy here that goes beyond bullet point feature lists or plain numbers, blending together to create one of those rare wow moments that come along once a generation, or that maybe herald the next. This really is a phenomenal thing.

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Think of Microsoft and video games and you might think that Halo’s the flagship, though I’ve often thought Flight Simulator is where you’ll find its real heart. It predates Windows – the first entry came back in 1982, though you can trace its heritage back even further to Bruce Artwick’s pioneering work in the late 70s – and is as quintessentially Microsoft as Encarta: an open-armed, technically astute piece of software that offers an education in the pleasures and particulars of flight. And, for one reason or another, the last entry in the series was Flight Simulator X back in 2006.

“I mean, we did have Microsoft Flight in the middle of it all,” Microsoft’s head of Flight Simulator Jorg Neumann says in wry reference to 2012’s failed reboot. “I don’t know if flight simulators went out of fashion as such. We always re-evaluate priorities – I wasn’t actually around back in 2007, but when [Flight Simulator X developer] Aces Team essentially was divested, the priorities were just different. It was very much about Xbox. Maybe that was the reason. But Flight Sim X was certainly a very successful product, both critically and financially. So I don’t think that was the reason – our focus just shifted over to console.”

This new Microsoft Flight Simulator is of course intended for console at some point – though there’s no real further detail on an Xbox release just yet – but first and foremost it’s a continuation of the PC’s longest-running series, and built upon the foundation of Flight Simulator X. “The idea was to understand everything that had been written, and with a lot of respect to the team that did that,” Martial Bossard, lead technical engineer at Asobo, the lead developers of Flight Sim 2020, tells us. “We had the chance to talk to some of these guys – and to select layers to improve. You’ll find a lot of code from Flight Simulator X in there, even right now.”

FSX was notoriously difficult to run back in the day, but Flight Sim 2020 is a much more forgiving affair – I was able to run high-end settings on a 1660ti and i5-9400, and you’ll get decent results out of a 970. DF will be along soon to give you a full rundown of the tech side of things.

Indeed, why would you throw away something that’s supported by a community of players and third-party developers that’s still thriving some 14 years on? “We benefited a tonne from that because basically, from day one, the sim worked,” says Neumann. “We just made it better one layer at a time. We stood on this wonderful platform and we try to try to improve it wherever we go.”

There’s even a legacy mode that lets you play with the older simulation model while enjoying all the visual splendour that’s now been layered on top, and for Flight Simulator X veterans there’s a commitment to make sure some of the more intricate set-ups are supported from day one. “The idea was to try as much as possible not to break anything,” says Bossard. “The goal was to always improve, never break.”

Of course, the immediately apparent improvement is in the visuals, a fascinating blend of machine learning, real-world map and weather data, plus some smart streaming technology that combines for one of the most visually arresting games of the moment. It’s an unashamed focus of this new Microsoft Flight Simulator, and according to Neumann was the number one request from the community. “The thing that came out from simmers was they were actually quite happy in their flight sim space,” he says. “But they all said the same thing – why is it that we are so far behind things like Forza? That was interesting! And it was all about visuals – I was like, we can do that!”

Fuel for thought

The technology that underpins the new Flight Simulator isn’t unprecedented. Indeed, you might have even played a game that had some form of it in before. Back in 2009 Asobo made Fuel, a ludicrously ambitious open world racing game that boasted a map of some 5,500 square miles.

“With Fuel the idea was to create a very detailed world with very little memory,” says technical lead Martial Bossard. “We had a bunch of techniques to bring details to surfaces, and basically they’re the same kind of techniques we use to improve the photogrammetry [in Flight Simulator]. If you take the raw photogrammetry information, it’s pretty rough, right? It works when you’re flying, but as soon as you’re next to the ground, you need more detail. The new part was to add these photogrammetry studies to do classification to discern exactly where there’s grass with rocks and forests, trees, buildings and so on. But this technical stuff for adding details on areas which have been designed as rocks is specifically the same kind of technique back in Fuel. There’s some shared DNA on both projects that was even if the philosophy of the engine is not the same but at least there’s some common points.”

Do that they have, as you’ll know if you’ve seen any of the trailers in the run-up to Microsoft Flight Simulator. It is an astonishingly pretty thing, with fulsome self-shadowing clouds depositing tangible volumes of rain that, if caught by a sun that also makes for dazzling dawns and dusks, can create volumetric rainbows. It’s backed up with detail that conspires to make something that looks utterly real; skyscrapers cast shadows over each other that darken as you reach street level, cities disperse light at night that radiates the sky, while attention has been paid to make sure the colour temperature of street lights is appropriate.

Head away from the cities and you might discover some of the world’s great mountain ranges where air currents whip up the slopes, or maybe head to the ocean and witness waves foaming against tropical islands, where water’s behaviour is subject to the weather and the wind. Head even further down to the ground and the grass sways to the same forces, while casting the gentlest green glow upon the underside of your plane. Microsoft Flight Simulator can be as beautiful as the earth itself.

Which might be because Microsoft Flight Simulator’s aim is to provide as faithful a recreation of the earth itself as possible. You’ve likely seen the numbers, and impressive they are: there are some 37,000 airports, an entire world it’d take some 14 years to see from the seat of a Cessna and one that contains some two whole petabytes of data, all told. Not that you’ll have to store all that yourself, of course, with Flight Simulator’s world delivered via streaming technology (it will be perfectly possible to play offline, with the procedural part of Asobo’s magic doing the heavy lifting, though there won’t be quite the same amount of detail as if you were playing with a connection).

It’s not a perfect recreation, of course, with buildings being pulled from types, the type determined by a matrix of data from Bing Maps and machine learning so that the brickwork or architectural style is about right. Look back at the flight from London City to Lewisham and you’ll see that Cesar Pelli’s pyramid-capped One Canada Square is now a nondescript skyscraper, and while I didn’t get quite close enough to check I’m fairly sure the shed out the back of my house where I’ve been playing Flight Sim these past few weeks isn’t there. The illusion holds, though, even when flying at low altitude – compare it to a contemporary sim such as X-Plane 11 and, even with Orbx’s excellent TrueEarth add-on enabled, it’s a whole world away.

Multiplayer features, and you’re able to choose whether to muck around with friends or join an instance with more sim-minded players.

Something like X-Plane 11 is a hard-edged, unashamed sim, of course – though despite it’s massively increased marketing budget and place in the mainstream, so too is Microsoft Flight Simulator. “We basically said from the get go, this is a sim for simmers,” says Neumann, perhaps wary of the mistakes made by Microsoft Flight. “Make no mistake about it. Because if you’re not holding on to what the fibre of what Flight Simulator is, you get confused.” Indeed, the sim side runs as deep and is often as staggering as the efforts to make the world believable. I’m no aviation expert with only a couple of hours of flight time under my belt, but these planes, whether it’s a goliath Boeing 747 or more sprightly Icon A5, feel legit.

The new flight model’s a marked improvement over Flight Simulator X, with air shears and drafts more pronounced thanks to better aerodynamics modelling, combined with more surface points per plane being simulated. Ground effect plays a bigger factor as you descend, providing a soft cushion that’s much appreciated if you’ve just had a landing gear failure that forces you to attempt a belly landing. Or maybe you’ll take that Icon A5 and attempt a water landing on any of the planet’s bodies of water, and then proceed to take off from that same point too.

In the cockpit, there’s the dizzying array of functioning dials and instruments with often mysterious purposes, each there to be prodded and poked as you work through the exhaustive, exhausting checklist of procedures that need to be run through before getting airborne. Or, you could not. That deliciously nerdy, astonishingly detailed side of Microsoft Flight Simulator is there – as it should be, lest they incur the wrath of my nephew who draws out by hand his own flight checklist before every excursion he takes in Flight Simulator X – but there’s also the option to have a virtual co-pilot do all the busywork, cueing you up at the end of the runway with little more to worry about than your throttle, yoke and rudders.

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If you’ve ever been lucky enough to fly yourself, you’ll know that rush you get when you’re first given control and you realise that not only is the act of flying yourself as exhilarating as you’d hoped, it’s actually not all that difficult to grasp. Flying in Microsoft Flight Simulator is freeing and fun, and perfectly possible without an encyclopedic knowledge of aviation law and a PhD in aerospace engineering. I’ve even guided a Boeing 747 into the skies from Heathrow with nothing more than an Xbox controller – and at a certain point, it’s possible to just engage the autopilot, kick back and enjoy the flight. If you feel bold enough to land there are prompts, assists and racing-line-style virtual overlays to help bring you safely to ground.

There’s even the lightest throughline provided by way of a flight school and missions in the shape of landing challenges and bush trials that have you navigating your way through the wilderness. Or you could play it as the sandbox Microsoft Flight Simulator has always intended to be. Take whatever plane takes your fancy, spin the globe and take off from anywhere in the world – maybe somewhere you’ve always dreamed of visiting, or maybe somewhere a bit more local so you can get the new sense of home that flight gifts you. And then, you ask yourself – where next?

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/07/microsoft-flight-simulator-is-a-once-in-a-generation-wow-moment-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=microsoft-flight-simulator-is-a-once-in-a-generation-wow-moment-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[terabitweb]

Original Post from Krebs on Security Author: BrianKrebs

A ransomware outbreak that hit QuickBooks cloud hosting firm iNSYNQ in mid-July appears to have started with an email phishing attack that snared an employee working in sales for the company, KrebsOnSecurity has learned. It also looks like the intruders spent roughly ten days rooting around iNSYNQ’s internal network to properly stage things before unleashing the ransomware. iNSYNQ ultimately declined to pay the ransom demand, and it is still working to completely restore customer access to files.

Some of this detail came in a virtual “town hall” meeting held August 8, in which iNSYNQ chief executive Elliot Luchansky briefed customers on how it all went down, and what the company is doing to prevent such outages in the future.

A great many iNSYNQ’s customers are accountants, and when the company took its network offline on July 16 in response to the ransomware outbreak, some of those customers took to social media to complain that iNSYNQ was stonewalling them.

“We could definitely have been better prepared, and it’s totally unacceptable,” Luchansky told customers. “I take full responsibility for this. People waiting ridiculous amounts of time for a response is unacceptable.”

By way of explaining iNSYNQ’s initial reluctance to share information about the particulars of the attack early on, Luchansky told customers the company had to assume the intruders were watching and listening to everything iNSYNQ was doing to recover operations and data in the wake of the ransomware outbreak.

“That was done strategically for a good reason,” he said. “There were human beings involved with [carrying out] this attack in real time, and we had to assume they were monitoring everything we could say. And that posed risks based on what we did say publicly while the ransom negotiations were going on. It could have been used in a way that would have exposed customers even more. That put us in a really tough bind, because transparency is something we take very seriously. But we decided it was in our customers’ best interests to not do that.”

A paid ad that comes up prominently when one searches for “insynq” in Google.

Luchansky did not say how much the intruders were demanding, but he mentioned two key factors that informed the company’s decision not to pay up.

“It was a very substantial amount, but we had the money wired and were ready to pay it in cryptocurrency in the case that it made sense to do so,” he told customers. “But we also understood [that paying] would put a target on our heads in the future, and even if we actually received the decryption key, that wasn’t really the main issue here. Because of the quick reaction we had, we were able to contain the encryption part” to roughly 50 percent of customer systems, he said.

Luchansky said the intruders seeded its internal network with MegaCortex, a potent new ransomware strain first spotted just a couple of months ago that is being used in targeted attacks on enterprises. He said the attack appears to have been carefully planned out in advance and executed “with human intervention all the way through.”

“They decided they were coming after us,” he said. “It’s one thing to prepare for these sorts of events but it’s an entirely different experience to deal with first hand.”

According to an analysis of MegaCortex published this week by Accenture iDefense, the crooks behind this ransomware strain are targeting businesses — not home users — and demanding ransom payments in the range of two to 600 bitcoins, which is roughly $20,000 to $5.8 million.

“We are working for profit,” reads the ransom note left behind by the latest version of MegaCortex. “The core of this criminal business is to give back your valuable data in the original form (for ransom of course).”

A portion of the ransom note left behind by the latest version of MegaCortex. Image: Accenture iDefense.

Luchansky did not mention in the town hall meeting exactly when the initial phishing attack was thought to have occurred, noting that iNSYNQ is still working with California-based CrowdStrike to gain a more complete picture of the attack.

But Alex Holden, founder of Milwaukee-based cyber intelligence firm Hold Security, showed KrebsOnSecurity information obtained from monitoring dark web communications which suggested the problem started on July 6, after an employee in iNSYNQ’s sales division fell for a targeted phishing email.

“This shows that even after the initial infection, if companies act promptly they can still detect and stop the ransomware,” Holden said. “For these infections hackers take sometimes days, weeks, or even months to encrypt your data.”

iNSYNQ did not respond to requests for comment on Hold Security’s findings.

Asked whether the company had backups of customer data and — if so — why iNSYNQ decided not to restore from those, Luchansky said there were backups but that some of those were also infected.

“The backup system is backing up the primary system, and that by definition entails some level of integration,” Luchansky explained. “The way our system was architected, the malware had spread into the backups as well, at least a little bit. So [by] just turning the backups back on, there was a good chance the the virus would then start to spread through the backup system more. So we had to treat the backups similarly to how we were treating the primary systems.”

Luchansky said their backup system has since been overhauled, and that if a similar attack happened in the future it would take days instead of weeks to recover. However, he declined to get into specifics about exactly what had changed, which is too bad because in every ransomware attack story I’ve written this seems to be the detail most readers are interested in and arguing about.

The CEO added that iNSYNQ also will be partnering with a company that helps firms detect and block targeted phishing attacks, and that it envisioned being able to offer this to its customers at a discounted rate. It wasn’t clear from Luchansky’s responses to questions whether the cloud hosting firm was also considering any kind of employee anti-phishing education and/or testing service.

Luchansky said iNSYNQ was about to restore access to more than 90 percent of customer files by Aug. 2 — roughly two weeks after the ransomware outbreak — and that the company would be offering customers a two month credit as a result of the outage.

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Go to Source Author: BrianKrebs iNSYNQ Ransom Attack Began With Phishing Email Original Post from Krebs on Security Author: BrianKrebs A ransomware outbreak that hit QuickBooks cloud hosting firm iNSYNQ in mid-July…