#i did. the two agents. which is MOST of the coding. sure.

[autism-corner]

me whne

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to Improve your Writing

Rick Riordan's Writing Tips

Rick Riordan:

Taste is subjective, and opinions differ about what "good writing" looks like. Most of us have read a bestseller or two and wondered, "How did this thing get published?" Nevertheless, I would argue that most work does not get published unless it demonstrates a certain level of technical competence. The grammar is correct. The prose is readable. I would further argue that most manuscripts are rejected because the writing is not technically competent. The manuscript never stands a chance because the writer simply doesn't know the craft of writing well enough. If you write well, you have already set yourself apart from 99% of what agents and editors see every day. Below are some notes on what I call "sentence level competence" — the ability to craft prose at the most basic level. These tips reflect the most common problems I've observed in unpublished manuscripts.

Sentence-Level Competence

Sentence focus — the subjects of all clauses should be appropriate to the content of the sentence.

Favor the concrete over the abstract, the antecedent over the pronoun.

Example: It was a sunny day. (the subject "it" is boring and vague.)

Better: The sky was brilliant blue. (Here the subject is sky, which is what the sentence was supposed to be about.)

If you are writing a sentence about a guy named Fred, the subject in the sentence should be (surprise!) Fred.

Exercise

Go through a page of prose and underline your own subjects.

How many are abstract?

How many of your sentences are truly focused?

Modifiers

Be sure the modifier refers to the right thing.

The modifier should refer to the closest noun.

Confusing modifiers will trip up the reader, consciously or subconsciously.

By the same token, pronouns should have clear antecedents.

Always place the modifier as close to the subject as possible.

Example: Can you help other writers who are writing books like me? (I got this question recently. I understand what the person is saying, but 'like me' follows the word 'books' so he is implying, without meaning to, that there are people producing books that look like him.)

Better: Can you help other writers like me who are writing books?

Exercise

Color-code a page of your manuscript, making each phrase and clause a different color.

Match up dependent clauses and phrases with their modifiers.

Avoid getting your modifier too far away from the thing being modified.

Deft Description

Choose your details carefully.

A description should be vivid, but surgically precise.

The detail must be given for a reason, and have a logical connection to the plot or advancement of character.

Avoid long "grocery lists" of details.

For a paragraph-length description, offer a uniting theme — an extended metaphor — to give the details cohesion.

Example: He was six feet tall, three hundred pounds, with brown hair, small brown eyes, a big nose and big fists. He wore jeans and a muscle shirt. He looked angry. (this is way too much description for the reader to keep track of, and it is offered as a random list)

Better: He looked like a rhino, ready to charge. (then you can pick a few details that reinforce the image of a rhino)

Exercise

Go through a chapter and delete all adjectives and adverbs.

Read through, then add some back in sparingly.

You may find you can do with less than before.

Parallelism

Clauses or phrases that are part of a list should be similar in structure.

Unparallel constructions are awkward and difficult to read, even if the reader can't put her finger on the exact problem.

Example: He likes dogs, hiking in the woods and reads books a lot. (Dogs is a single noun, hiking in the woods is a participial phrase, reads books a lot is a simple predicate. These are all totally different things. Make them the same, and the sentence will flow much better.)

Better: He likes walking his dog, hiking in the woods, and reading lots of books.

Exercise

Try constructing your descriptions in parallel units — absolutes, infinitives, adjectives.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[https-rediation]

so do we remember Agent Phoenix's driver's license that briefly appeared in IEYTD 3 for the Blind Spot mission?

no? well here it is

I made an attempt to decode it 👍

At first glace this may seem fruitless, but if you zoom in on the blacked-out text you can still see the general shapes of each letter slightly above the border, and it's not all gibberish! You can quite easily see "Agent Phoenix" at the top so the rest of it is likely not nonsense either

This is what I found

(I did this project multiple months ago, really almost a year at this point, so I'll try to explain my process as best I could now) (Also disclaimer I don't claim any of this to be purely and exactly canon, this is just what I deciphered)

As you can see most of the information is filled in with letters I copied directly from different areas of the license in order to ensure the font matched up underneath. Slightly above where the photo would be I mapped out the general shape of each letter to narrow down my options as I went letter by letter.

Generally, they followed the same basic shapes

Numbers:

1 - Pointed at the top, flat at the bottom

2 - Round at the top, flat at the bottom

3, 6, 8, 9, and 0 - Round at the top and bottom

4 - Small ridge at the top, stick at the bottom

5 - Flat at the top, round at the bottom

7 - Flat at the top, stick at the bottom

Letters:

A - Small ridge at the top, two prongs at the bottom

B and D - Flat and then curved at the top and bottom

C, G, and O - Round at the top and bottom

E and I - Flat at the top and bottom

F - Flat at the top, stick at the bottom

H, M, N, W, and X - Two prongs at the top and bottom

I think you get the gist of it, it was a very long process.

I'll explain my findings as I went down the card. Agent Phoenix is pretty self-explanatory. You're able to see the small flat top of the A, a portion of the t, and the flat-then-curved top of the P, it wasn't hard to deduce the rest.

The address I didn't complete as it is a made up area after all and was highly difficult with the latter part of the 11-- both having a curved top (which indicated a 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, or 0, not very limiting). The first two were definitely 1's though as it is the only number which comes to a point at the top. (I'm pretty sure the street was Agency St. by the way which is funny)

New York, New York, was also generally easy to figure out from it's shape, and the zip code with 104-- places it somewhere in the Bronx area if I remember correctly

The Sex could only be one of two letters (M or F), and as it comes to two points at the top it's definitely an M

Hair and eye color I assume to both be Brown. The beginning letter starts flat and curves at the end, limiting the options to a B, D, P or R. Hair wise this could be Brown, Black, Blonde, or Red. The lowercase "l" and "d" that are present in every option but Brown would have been visible above the blacked-out line, as the uppercase letters are. You can see this to be true in the "h" and "i" in "Phoenix" and the "k" in "York". Eye color followed this same elimination rule.

Height was pretty easy as it was already generally limited to what was feasible. 4' would be on the short side, 6' on the tall, and 5' in the middle. With the number being flat on the top it was very easy to deduce that Phoenix was within the 5' range. The next number comes to a point, making it a 1, and the next after that is curved. Typically this would circle back to the 0, 3, 6, 8, and 9 problem, but when measuring someone's height the inches it only covers 1-11, and since we already know the first number is a 1, the only number the second one could be is a 0.

Weight starts off with a 1, followed by two curved numbers (yaaaaaay). Generally speaking based on Phoenix's height, 180 is the most reasonable number for them not to be over or underweight. The 3 in 183 is honestly just what I found fit best with the font, but that one really could be a 0, 3, 6, 8, or 9.

And finally the birthday! This was a fun one. Dec 25, 1935, who would have thought Phoenix was born on Christmas? With the DOB having to start with a month the capital letter was already limited to J, F, M, A, S, O, N, and D. When you look at it, it begins flat and progresses into a curve, so with the limitations set by the months we get a D. The actual day can only have it's first number be a 0-3 and its second a 0-9 since there are 01-31 days in the month. The curved top of the first number leaves 2-3, but the flat top of the second number indicates a 5 or 7, neither of which can pair up with the 3 (as there is no 35 or 37 of a month) making the first number 2 by default. Since the bottom of the number isn't visible, when lined up the 5 is what fit the best in comparison to 7.

The year has to be 19--, the games are in the 1960s after all. The thirds number of the year has a curved top, which leaves 0 or 3. Unless Agent Phoenix was born in 190- and is in their 60s during the game, the third number has to be a 3. The fourth number is flat at the top (5 or 7), except this time you can actually see it's also curved at the bottom, making it a 5.

When you put this all together you find that Agent Phoenix lives in New York (no surprises there), has brown eyes and hair, is 5'10", 183lbs, and was 30 years old during the events of the first game (1966), born on December 25, 1935.

I wrote this at near-midnight so I apologize for any grammatical errors and general nonsensicalness as I attempted to put this together My brain doesn't want to form comprehensible words at this time of night so I'll likely review this more extensively later, just wanted to share my findings with anyone who might find them intriguing.

Again, I don't claim that all of this is inherently canon, it was just me attempting to decode this for fun

[genjispeace]

Hear me out… Moira lab assistant x black watch genji era- lab- chemicals- aphrodisiac? GN or fem reader whichever you prefer- Ty and i love your work!! ❤️

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I had a lot of fun writing this, and it's certainly filthy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do <3

tags: genji x reader, gn afab reader, unprotected sex, aphrodisiac, kinda mutual pining, rough sex, several orgasms, dirty talk

SOMETHING IN THE AIR

A soft yawn escapes your mouth as you scribble down notes.  Moira had asked you to stay up late to finish up some tests on one of her projects. Being her lab assistant has certainly impacted your sleeping schedule, but it is still a job that you enjoy. You were, however, on a need-to-know basis on most of the experiments and projects, which usually meant you weren’t given many details. Currently, you’re supposed to be working on a type of venom that disables any abilities one has, such as Moira’s own grasp. 

A soft knock sounds on the lab doors, and you call out to the visitor. You lift your head up from your work as the door opens and smile when Genji stands there. He holds a glass of water in his hand, sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt on his body, and a black fabric mask over his face. 

“Hi, Genji,” you greet him sweetly. You drop your pen and walk around the lab table to get to him. The two of you have been friends for a while, but ever being anything more was tricky. You’d be lying if you said you have never thought about him in a romantic sense, but you hardly felt like it was something possible. The two of you kissed once, a soft and sweet, two second kiss that was interrupted, but nothing more. It’s tricky to date in Overwatch, and emotions make things complicated. Though, there are some nights you found yourself wishing the kiss was never interrupted. 

“I brought you this. I’m sure you’ve been drinking coffee all night, so it’s time for some water,” Genji passes the glass to you, the ice clinking with the movement. You turn to look at your workspace, seeing two coffee cups sitting there. He knows you well, and it never fails to warm your heart. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking the glass and placing it on the lab table next to you. Genji nods, taking a few steps back. You watch him retreat, the silence between the two of you making your heart ache. It was never like this before the two you kissed. 

‘Genji, I-” you start to say, but he takes a few steps to the left and runs his hand along one of the shelves. You watch his movements as he gently touches each of the bottles on them.

“What are these?” He asks you. The bottles are full of liquids of different colors, each with different effects. 

“Uh…old projects, I think,” you say. The dark blue liquid in the bottle Genji touches was a paralyzing agent, used for a mission that Moira went on. Some of them, though, you don’t recognize. Some of them probably have labels written on the bottom, but they are typically in some sort of code, so only Moira and, occasionally, you can read them. 

“Did you work on any of them?” Genji asks, his dark eyes connecting with yours from across the room. 

“Some of them, but nothing near what Moira has done,” you mutter. You’re her assistant, so you are essentially in her shadow. 

“I wouldn’t exactly say she’s the best role model,” Genji says, his hand stopping at a bottle full of a cloudy pink liquid. He pulls it off of the shelf, seemingly interested in this one. “This bottle isn’t like the others.”

You frown, taking steps closer to him until you are close enough to properly examine the bottle in his hands. He holds it carefully, making sure not to drop the glass, but you notice that he’s right. The other bottles have caps or corks keeping them sealed, but this one seems to have been melted shut, like Moira didn’t want to risk any of it escaping, even the fumes. 

“Hm. I haven’t noticed that before,” you say, reaching up to take the bottle from him. 

“You didn’t work on that one?” Genji asks, watching your face closely. His eyes seem to shimmer when you look up at him.

“No, not this one,” you flip the bottle around softly, trying to read the bottom, but you somehow lose your grip and the bottle clatters to the ground. The sound of shattering glass fills the room, and you watch with wide eyes as the pink liquid bubbles as soon as it touches air, the liquid evolving into fumes. The pink air flitters around, seemingly wrapping its tendrils around you and Genji. 

“Fuck,” you whisper out. You’ve broken plenty of things before and, while Moira wasn’t happy about it, she understood that accidents happen. This, though, is different. You don’t know what you just released. “At least we aren’t dead.”

You drop to your knees after the poor excuse to lighten the mood (though, it’s true, some of those bottles would have killed both of you), and dig through the glass shards. 

“Be careful!” Genji exclaims, dropping to his knees with you and wrapping his hands around your wrists. He tries to pull you away from the glass, but you manage to find the shard that has a piece of tape on it. You flip it over, and immediately wrangle yourself free of Genji’s grip when you see the label. Aphrodisiakos. A project you had only heard about, one where Moira was tasked with creating an aphrodisiac. 

“You need to leave,” you shudder out, trying to create more space between the two of you. You try to climb to your feet, but slip on the tile floor. Aphrodisiakos was one of Moira’s strongest creations: a 98.7% success rate, even when the subjects are only exposed to fumes. Ingesting it increases that rate. 

“Okay, relax. What is it?” Genji tries to move closer to you, but you back up again. He stays crouched, like he’s trying to approach a startled animal. 

“Genji, you need to leave…” you mutter out, already feeling a warmth building up in your throat. You remember reading about this project. It didn’t take long for aphrodisiakos to start to work. It was mere minutes before it started to impact you, probably Genji too, and you need him away from you. 

“I’m not leaving until you at least tell me what it was,” he narrows his eyes, but you can only shudder. Sure, he deserves to know, considering it may have an impact on him as well, but the thought of explaining it has your cheeks flushing.

“It’s…uh…” your throat feels like you swallowed cotton and the smell of walnuts and Genji’s cologne is filling your nose, the scent going straight to your core. “Meant to…increase…sex drive.” 

“What?” Genji says, you eventually get your feet under you and stand. Continuing to back away from him, you need to get his scent away from you before you…no, that’s the drug speaking. 

“It’s a fuck potion, Genji!” You scream out, your frustration mixing with the project’s chemicals. You keep backing up, him closing every inch of space you try to put in between the two of you. 

“Like an aphrodisiac?” He asks.

“A strong one,” you say, your back slamming into the lab table behind you. “You need to leave, now.”

It’s less of a command and more of a plea. You already struggle controlling yourself around Genji as it is, but this is a completely different game now. If he doesn’t leave, you don’t know what will happen. 

“Gen-” you call out as he continues to close the distance between the two of you. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity you have never seen from him. His scent fills your nose more as he gets closer, and it’s starting to make you dizzy.

“What if I don’t want to leave?” Genji says once he’s almost touching you. His presence, his scent, the feel of his breath, it’s all too much for your burning skin. You feel like you’re on fire, the heat pooling in your center until you can barely stand. Genji seems to notice the weakening in your knees and he reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist and steady you, but the feeling of him touching you has you melting even more. 

“You need to…go,” you can barely get the words out when you feel his fingers drum along your skin. It feels like you have a fever, and sweat starts to bead along your forehead. You look up at Genji, and he stares down at you with glowing eyes.

“Then who would take care of you?” His voice sounds low, and the sound builds the heat under your skin. You might actually explode if you don’t have some relief soon. How the fuck is this so effective?

“I need…something you can’t…” You start to say but your voice falters when Genji’s other hand runs along the back of your thighs and he lifts you into his arms. Your limbs are too weak to fight him and he places you on the lab table. 

“I know what you need, baby. Let me help you,” Genji purrs against your neck. You shudder at the sound, at the vibrations from his voice. Your body seems to be picking up on even the smallest things, because it’s all driving you insane. You squirm when you feel Genji’s hand pressing into your inner thigh over your jeans. Any thought about arguing with him dies as soon as his pinky finger ghosts over your clothed core. 

“Please,” is all you can manage to say. You hear fabric snap and feel soft lips against the skin on your neck. Your neck falls back as Genji presses rough kisses into it. His tongue slides up along it, and the feeling as your legs clenching together. You need his tongue somewhere else. You feel him smile against your skin as he continues to press kisses there. He eventually pulls back, leveling his eyes with you. His face is maskless, the scars sending heat to your core. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so turned on by his appearance, but it has you dripping for him. You blame it on the drug. 

“Just for the record, I would do this without an aphrodisiac,” Genji mutters, then his hand balls in your hair and pushes you against him, your lips crashing together. You moan into his kiss, rough and commanding. His tongue glides along your bottom lip and the motion makes you whimper against him. You try to fight for dominance in the kiss, but when his other hand reaches your hip, you fall apart. All your skin seems to be on fire, his kiss burning you down to your nerve endings. 

When he pulls away, his lips are wet and a smile is on them, which reveals a single dimple in his cheek. You don’t have much time to admire him, though, because he drops to his knees in front of you. The lab table puts you at the perfect height for him, and the sight of him on his knees makes you shudder. 

“Help me take these off,” Genji’s hands stop at the button of your jeans, “or I cut them off.”

You nod, lifting your hips so he can pull your jeans off easier. Once off, he throws them across the lab, and his mouth is immediately pressed to your inner thighs. You groan out, a soft plea. You need him somewhere else. You feel a metal finger against your waistband, the cold a stark chill to your burning skin. He wraps his finger around the waistband of your underwear and pulls, the fabric ripping easily under his strength. 

He pulls the shreds away, leaving your bottom half bare. The cool air of the lab kisses your skin, hot with desire, and it has a shiver running along your spine. His hand reaches your core quickly, his fingers hovering just above it. 

“Wanna come on my hands?” Genji moves his face forward, until he is mere inches from your core. “Or on my tongue? Or perhaps my cock?”

You feel the words on your core and it makes you jolt.

“All three? How perfect,” Genji answers his own question, then his fingers are finally on you. It’s his metal hand, which feels cold against your scalding core. Your head falls back as he runs his fingers along your slit, slowly tracing your core. It’s slow, teasing, but you know he won’t have to work very hard for you to orgasm right now. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to your thigh. 

“It’s the…” you start, but yelp when you feel a pinch on your thigh. Genji bites down softly on the skin, enough to make it sting but not enough to truly hurt.

“Don’t you dare say it’s the drug. I bet you’ve been plenty wet for me before without it,” he mutters. “I bet you were wet when we kissed the first time, huh?”

“Yes,” you say softly. You want to say more, but a finger pushes into you and any words are replaced by soft mewls. 

“It’s okay. I was hard then too,” Genji says against your skin, his finger working in and out of you. He adds another finger easily, and your hands grip onto the edge of the table. His other hand reaches up and finds your clit, moving it in slow circles. A moan escapes your lips, and you flush at how loud it was.

“I knew you’d sound pretty,” Genji says, pushing harder on the circles in your clit. The heat that was on your skin seems to all move to your core, building up like a ticking bomb. Your knuckles tighten around the rim of the desk until they’re white and your arms are shaking. Genji seems to notice, as he picks up his pace. You start to shake harder, your heat building up, until it all explodes. You scream out his name as you come on his fingers, and he continues to work you through it. 

You barely catch your breath before his mouth is on your core, his tongue lapping against you. 

“Genji!” You scream out, your body still shaking from the first orgasm. You feel his tongue lap one last lick, before he pulls away.

“I told you, three times. That was only on my hands, baby,” he says, looking up at you. His dark eyes are full of promise and his lips are wet with your release. The sight is enough to make your heart flutter and a shot of heat go straight through your body. He seems to know his effect on you, because a cocky smile takes place on his features and he keeps eye contact and he lowers his mouth back to your pussy. His tongue swirls around your clit, and the motion has your head falling back and your hand reaching to his hair. He continues to lap at you, like he’s a starving man devouring dessert. 

He builds your orgasm quickly and with expert precision. You’re sure he would be making cocky comments if his mouth wasn’t busy. 

“Fuck, Genji, please,” you mutter out, tugging on his soft hair. He growls against your core, plunging his tongue into you and using his finger on your clit. You scream out, your back arching into him. 

You continue repeating his name like a manta, a sacred prayer between the two of you, as your second orgasm takes over. It rattles your entire body, your thighs shaking around his head. He uses one of his arms to steady you, but you still shake enough to rattle the table. The orgasm hits as hard as the first one, the heat exploding like a bomb inside you. He continues to lap at your core as you ride out your orgasm. Every drop seems to land on his tongue, and he takes it like it’s the nectar of the gods. 

Once you are finally done, he pulls back. His mouth and chin are both wet, and a toothy smile is on his face. He stands and brushes a stray hair out of your face.

“One more. Can you take it?” He asks. The promise makes you shiver, but the heat in your body answers the questions for you. 

“I need it,” you plead, reaching forward and fisting his shirt to pull him closer. His smile deepens, that dimple showing up again. You yank at the hem of his shirt and he seems to get the message, pulling his shirt over his head. You reach out to him again, your hands pressing against the soft skin of his stomach. The toned muscles under pale skin flex under your touch, and you dig your nails in slightly. Genji makes a low noise as your nails drag along his skin. He continues to let your hands roam his body as he loosens the strings in his sweats, letting them drop to the ground. The bulge in his boxers catches your attention, and your hand immediately moves to it. As soon as your fingertips barely touch it, Genji pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth. He’s so hard that you can already see the drips of precum darkening his boxers. You give it one stroke through his underwear, and his forehead falls against yours. 

“Just the drug?” You tease him, a soft smile on your face. He shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. Part drugs, part you. Mostly you,” Genji admits. Your hand moves slowly, and you can feel Genji’s abs tense as you reach your hand under his underwear band. You dig your nails into his skin before wrapping your hand around his cock. He seems to hold his breath as he waits for your next more. You stroke it slowly, getting used to the way it feels in your hand. He feels big. 

“Let me fuck you, please,” Genji says. “I need to be inside you.” 

“Please,” is all you respond before Genji is pulling away and ripping your shirt over your head. Your bra gets unsnapped and thrown across the floor somehow, baring your entire body to him. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Genji says. He pulls his boxers down and they end up thrown in another clothes pile, and you can finally admire him. You were right, he’s big, and flesh. Your core clenches at the sight of his cock dripping with precum. You need him inside you, now. 

He moves back to you, his hands gripping onto your hips. Your legs spread for him, almost of their own accord, before he’s lining up at your entrance. You mutter out another plea, begging for him inside you, and it seems to snap any resolve he had left. He pushes into you, the wetness of your arousal welcoming him easily. The stretch still burns, the sting feeling like its own version of heaven. The room fills with soft breaths and moans he pushes more inches into you.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he says, as you take every inch of him. You feel so good, so full, but you need more. Genji seems to read you perfectly, because he starts to thrust in and out. It’s slow at first, and it makes you moan each time he pushes in. Even his thrusts are perfect, each motion pushing you further and further to the edge. You whimper his name again, like he’s a prayer on your lips. Maybe he is. 

As his thrusts start to pick up, the lab table starts to shake under you. Instruments clatter to the ground, beakers shatter, but you don’t care. All you care about is Genji and the orgasm that is building inside you. His hands on your hips dig in harder and his thrusts start to get sloppy. More heat builds in your core as he pounds into you and you start to whine out. The orgasm builds more, like a star about to explode, until you’re fulfilling his promise. You come around his cock, clenching onto him and screaming out his name. Your nails dig into his back, and the motion is enough to send him the rest of the way over the edge. He moans out your name, then rests his head on your shoulder as his orgasm rocks through his body. His shoulders shake as you feel his come shoot inside you, making you sensitive pussy throb. 

He presses soft kisses to your shoulder where he rests as he regains his composure. Once you’ve both caught your breath, he moves away from you. He reaches to grab the glass of water he brought you, that somehow didn’t fall off of the table, and offers it to you. You laugh softly, taking it and taking a sip. The cool liquid feels nice on your throat, and it’s not long before sleepiness starts to seep into your bones. Genji pulls his sweats on and somehow gets your sleepy self to put his shirt on. 

“Come on. My room is only a few feet away. You can sleep there,” he says.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you say with a soft laugh, but it’s true. Your legs feel like jelly and you’re fairly certain you’d fall as soon as you tried to stand. Genji smiles back at you, putting his arm against your back and the other one at the bend of your knees, before he lifts you off of the table. As he carries you to his room, you bury your face in his chest. It’s late enough that the halls are empty.

“Wanna know something about aphrodisiakos?” Genji asks.

“Hm?” Is all you respond. 

“It only works on people who already had feelings for each other,” he says. You scowl. Now that he mentions it, you do remember reading something like that in Moira’s notes. You smile against his chest as sleep takes over. You have always had feelings for him.

[hot-on-my-watch]

Final Script- Sherlock S4- The Six Thatchers

I may have fallen down a new rabbit hole, and this time it's reading bits of BBC Sherlock scripts different from the episodes.

Last night on here I saw a post purporting to show a cut scene from the series, and began looking up more. Lots of fun.

However, there were still rumours of a scene about John and Mary's marriage that I not yet found, so I decided to have a look at the Six Thatchers script on the BBC website.

Delightful!

Here I should say that I know very little about how tv programmes are made, so was rather titilated to find that many of the scenes were in a different order to that in which they appear in the episode, and to have the joy of reading stage directions and whatnot.

Anyway, a few notes:

Formatting

Firstly, a lot of scenes have been moved around. Clearly season 4 goes in for a lot more visual hijinks, flashbacks and ambitious transitions between scenes than we've generally seen previously, but the script describes characters walking, running and looking between scenes almost constantly. Whether this was too ambitious to pull off practically or ultimately considered too confusing for the viewer I don't know, but to a this utter novice the transitions in the script do sound a lot harder to film!

"Love"

In the script, we don't get the codenames (Love, Porlock etc.) in the 'doctored footage' scene. The first time "love" is highlighted is when we see the torturer laying into Ajay while crying not "ammo/amo" but "I love you" and "love", and we only find out Lady Smallwood's codename when Mycroft questions her.

Personally I think this was a good change. It gives the viewer the opportunity to pick up the codename clue first (if they know a bit of latin, mind, which obviously most of us don't). I still find it a bit weird to repeat any kind of phrase over and over while torturing someone- but then I find it strange to gain entertainment from torturing someone at length at all. Mostly, I think that the original line was a bit on the nose - we get it, love hurts! People hurting and being hurt by the ones they love is everywhere in this season. And yet, I had failed to put two and two together on that before.

Sealife

I noticed an additional example of the 'whale' motif- within the greater 'ocean' theme of course, which is bloody everywhere.

In the swimming pool scene, the script describes whale sounds being heard as the father relaxes in the jacuzzi and the girl swims, then returning along with music when Sherlock and Ajay crash into a control panel during their fight. Frankly I'm terrible at noticing these kinds of things, and my attention never does very well with action scenes at the best of times, let alone now that I have severe ME/CFS! I will be rewatching the scene soon to check if the whale sounds made it in!

Just FYI the other whale references in TST: the black fish/killer whale mobile above Rosie's cot/crib, what looks like part of a whale skeleton in the beginning aquarium scene, a poster at the bus stop behind E that says "KILLER WHALE". Obviously we also have the sharks at the aquarium that SH compared to Magnussen in HLV, the scene where John and Sherlock discuss the fact that you can't arrest a jellyish, and more jellyfish behind Sherlock during the confrontation scene in the aquarium- thanks to Erik Voss for New Rockstars on Youtube for this!

Of course Vivian Norbury makes her own comparison between the sea creatures and intelligence agents, and her code name Langdale seems to come from Langdale Pike in the ACD stories. Pike, as well as being the name of a fish, was apparently a high society gossip that helped SH with cases occasionally- just like a receptionist, she knew "everything". We see what you did there, Mark Gatiss.

"M" for Mycroft

In the script, Mycroft's look to Sherlock when accused of lying about ignorance of Mary's true identity says 'Really?' I was never quite sure whether that was the case, or a look of 'worth a try', but I had decided to believe that Mycroft genuinely didn't know, and would have had a closer eye on things if he had, so was pleased to be vindicated there. Of course this also goes back to Mary working for Mycroft in Sherlock's Victorian trip trance, implying that either consciously or subconsciously Sherlock correctly suspected Mary of working for "the British Government".

The Mystery of Man Meeting DCI

Similarly, following the scene in which Lestrade converses with Hopkins the Interpol officer outside the flat about how he met Sherlock and is cut off, we get this:

Damn you Gatiss! I love it.

'Miss Me?' Post

There were a couple more things explained in the script that didn't make their way into the episode. Firstly, SH deduces that the post containing Mary's "miss me?" DVD seemed to have come from a lawyer who had two dogs in the office (always with the dogs!) Personally I never took issue with The DVDs from Beyond the Grave as this is the kind of thing solicitors and friends can actually do for you, but I know it irritated some fans.

"There's somewhere she goes."

Secondly, there's a brief scene in which someone at the MI6 office explains to Sherlock that "she" i.e. Norbury always goes somewhere i.e. the aquarium on Friday nights and that they keep it open late for her. I have been a bit confused in the episode when suddenly we're headed back to the aquarium, probably when it's closed, and Sherlock's commenting about her having nothing better to do on Friday nights. This explains it, and that Sherlock didn't expect Norbury to be carrying a gun. Edit: on rewatch, a voiceover announces that it's "five minutes til closing time" at the aquarium and Sherlock greets Norbury with "your office said I'd find you here." So really it was just my tricky brain misfiring! Of course in the UK we don't typically expect people to be carrying guns and certainly not little old ladies anyway. And, this continues the "whale" motif of something considered serene and unthreatening but is more powerful and dangerous to us than is usually perceived.

Missing Scene: Curry and Fears

There's also an extra scene between John and Mary, which is what I was looking for. They're in an Indian restaurant, their first time out without Rosie, and worrying about her the whole time even though babysitter Hudders assures them that she's fine. I see why they cut this as it adds nothing to the plot. However, there are a couple of interesting bits here.

John talks about not wanting to paper Rosie's room with clown wallpaper, because clowns are scary. We've already had the hyperbolic blog post The Inexplicable Matchbox which mentions John's utter delight at Sherlock dressing up as a clown for a case as well, as Mrs Hudson being pushed put of a helicopter. Now we're about to get a scary clown in The Final Problem during the "pantomime" that John helped design. So John has now developed a fear of clowns. Mary, however, isn't afraid of clowns, but of the sea:

This comes back later in the episode when the trio (let's face it, that's what they are now) are on the plan heading back to London; the sea is visible from the window, whereas in the finished episode we get an image of E superimposed onto it. Perhaps the showrunners thought at this point that there were quite enough references to THE BLOODY SEA. It also comes back in The Final Problem when we see "the girl on the plane" flying in an unpiloted aeroplane over the sea- and Mycroft announces that they will have to get her to crash it there.

Anyway, as someone who was never that invested in John and Mary's marriage (knowing that she was going to die shortly) but wasn't against it either, I do like this conversation in the restaurant as a waypoint between the couple's classic bickering, banter and Mary's statement that the danger was the fun part, and her rather contradictory claim as she dies that her life as Mrs Watson was the only one worth living.

John, on the other hand, is not necessarily checking on Rosie or even Sherlock when they both compulsively ("surreptitiously" in the script) check their phones, even after Mary's declaration. Oh dear.

Mrs Hudson, meanwhile, is busy with her knitting, sudoku AND a Fifty Shades DVD, according to the script. She not only tells Mary this, but begins to talk about when her husband brought some blindfolds home. Is she purposely bringing these things up to get rid of people at this point?

Childhood Flashback

Something else notably changed is the flashback from Sherlock's childhood: the script describes it containing three children all along, as well as a dog. Something must have changed here - delaying the Eurus reveal or deciding they were making it too obvious, perhaps.

I had wondered if the flashback we do see was part of Sherlock's recurring dream that the therapist refers to near the end of the episode, and here it is shown again just before she asks about it, so I take that as confirmation too.

"We tried!"

Conversely, there are however a couple of bits that made it into the final episode that I didn't clock in the script. Firstly, there's no sign of the brief scene in which John jokes about trying to arrest a jellyfish. I'm aware that people have since said that's (one of/) the only bit of their usual banter we get in this episode, perhaps even this season, and I'm glad it was included.

"If you want the rattle..."

I didn't see the best scene of the episode in the script either: the one where Sherlock gives he famous "you see, but you do not observe, Watson" speech, and gets hit in the face with a rattle. Obviously. I'm in favour of virtually any scene having been cut in favour of this, and especially the ones listed above! There is a part in the script where Sherlock says he's doing his best but it (dealing with babies) is not really his area, and I'm glad the writers seem to have gone for Sherlock being a little more interactive with Rosie in the end.

John's JPEG

Finally, I don't think there was any mention in the script of John typing into his blog. It seems that was added as they were moving scenes around, perhaps explaining the minor fiasco of the nonsensical JPEG. Personally I think that was a gaffe and the repetition in BBC Sherlock canon of a Six Thatchers case similarly a cock-up. It's a real shame because the blogs are otherwise fantastic, and I would have liked them to continue through season 4 where reasonable. I am fascinated by the various theories that season 4 was not meant to be taken at face value (blog, trance, Sherlock's dying brain etc.), but am yet to be convinced by any of them. Still, if anyone thinks they can change my mind, I'd be open to letting them try!

My Overall Impression

Of course this delve into a whole new set of texts has made me want to read ALL the scripts, but I do feel my limited energy should be spent doing something useful sooner or later. So we'll see! But surely they can't all be THIS different from the finished episodes and thus drive me to Tumblr? Can they?

To be continued...

[mooncatsramble]

SWTOR Alignments: Light vs Dark - and the wide gulf between

So it doesn't really matter if anyone noticed but in my tags on Like Minded I indicated that Umbral was "Light Sided" and Cipher N was "graymoral" - which is exactly what it sounds like, placing gray on the Light <--> Dark scale that everything is judged by in the SW universe.

I wanted to address that before going on much deeper into their lore, but if you want to jump ahead of all the meta there's a header before the headcanons. Anyway, there's a post in circulation, especially amongst dedicated Star Wars blogs, that suggests the Light side/Dark side dynamic is not a coin you flip. It isn't a spectrum, or a gradient.

It's the ocean. The Light side is the shallows, down as far as the light reaches. It's dangerous if you don't know what you're doing, sure, but for the most part it's safer.

Considering that the Dark side is the depths, all that the light does not touch. Where the eldritch horrors hide, where predators of sizes and shapes you cannot imagine thrive. Where it is cold, and if you are not protected from the intense pressure it will crush everything you are and there will be nothing recognizable left.

This is the Light and Dark. It's always been dangerous (cue gif), even in the shallows there can be a riptide that drags you under. Things lurk under the surface. All manner of dangerous creatures are close enough to get you once you leave the shore, and Force users are born in the water.

The Jedi / Sith dynamic is presented as two opposite sides of the same coin, and it's not that that's fundamentally wrong? But it doesn't capture the nuance. You know how Dooku fell? Dooku fell because he went too deep in his studies without first preparing his mind. It was not a moral failing, not at first. Mace Windu is said canonically to constantly walk the "line" between Light and Dark successfully. I dare say Qui-Gon Jinn did the same, but not as successfully if we're counting the Jedi Apprentice books.

Carth Onasi (Knights of the Old Republic) mentions having come to an understanding that the Force is different. That it's so much more dangerous than just going down a slippery moral slope. It changes the physical appearance of the wielders. There is something physical going on. I could continue, but I'd rather get to my point.

Regarding Darth Umbral and Cipher N

Umbral, even as a Darth, skews towards the Light, but it's not just because he has a stronger moral code than many of his fellows. It's because he has protected himself from the powers he uses. It hasn't gotten to his head - or rather, rarely so. He is a monster, but seldom truly monstrous. He's done horrific things, don't get me wrong. He's a Sith, the culture alone demands it and he's fine with putting his life ahead of others. But he's a careful practitioner of the Force, one who has practiced both Sith and Jedi techniques. He prefers his oddly lighter morality and distinct code of honor. He has rules that bind him, some social, some class-based, and many more imposed by himself. He is Light sided / Light aligned / Light leaning - not truly Light, but closer to the Light than the Dark, and a lighter shade of Gray.

Cipher N does not have the luxury of a moral code. Rather, he has one, but he's been forced to compromise it so many times it's badly tattered and neglected. N applies very cold logic. He rates worth, not on innate value of a life, but instead on who someone is in a bigger picture. Keeper encourages this as it generally works out as he'd hoped. At the same time, he's also left a Sith - the most valued members of Imperial society - to their own devices while prioritizing a worker who was central to being able to finish his mission.

He tends to outsource his morality on the whole. "What would keeper do?" and "what serves the mission?" are very common reasoning for the Intel Agents. In fact, it's expected.

Imagine Umbral's surprise the first time N comes to him for advice.

[luna-rainbow]

About your reply to the anon about Maria Stark:

I thought it was made clear Hydra covered up the Starks' deaths? Wouldn't it have been undercover Hydra agents who carried out the "invesigation"? Hydra clearly took possession of the tapes, which we see in Civil War, and therefore I assume also performed the autopsies, etc. People like Peggy would have had no idea the organisation was compromised at this stage and would have no reason to have questioned what the people they employed and trusted were telling them.

The thing that doesn't make sense to me is Howard telling Tony he was going to the Pentagon when Shield was based at the Triskelion, which we know from the Antman movies was in use at this time. Especially considering Howard had the serum - surely that was something that should have been in Shield's hands? I wonder if anyone at Shield knew Howard had successfully recreated the serum. We know Tony doesn't know about the existence of Shield or his dad's involvement until Fury tells him, so I wonder if either A) Howard lied about where he was going or B) suspected/knew Shield was compromised and Hydra found out which was why Hydra intercepted him on his way to the Pentagon/Department of Defence.

The thing I really don't understand is why the Soviet sector of Hydra got involved in it at all - why did the tapes end up in Siberia instead of being kept by Shield/Hydra in the US? Why did they use the serum and not the American sector of Hydra? Why did the Soviets have the red book with the code words and not pass it on to the Americans with the Winter Soldier after the Cold War?

This is going on a bit of a tangent now but I've also found it deeply interesting that Vasily Karpov hid himself and the book in Ohio after the Cold War, which is exactly where the North Institute was based (where Alexei Shoshtakov stole Shields/Hydra's work on chemical subjugation with Natasha, Yelena and Melina undercover in 1995). No way is that a coincidence because Melina explicitly mentions the research on the Winter Soldier being used for the project. I wonder if Karpov had any involvement in that Hydra/Shield project, and to what extent. Maybe he wanted a way to control the other Winter Soldiers? Yet I would've thought if he was working with Shield's Hydra after the cold war, he would've handed the code words over and the other supersoldiers in cyrofreeze.

I've spent way too much time thinking about this.

You know how I feel about Peggy and her “ignorance” about Hydra constructing a multimillion dollar tribute to Zola right under her office. Once again, there are only two options: she is either incompetent or she is complicit. I mean — how did Soviet Hydra know Howard was about to transport the super soldier serum with enough advanced notice to wake and prep and send the Winter Soldier all the way from Siberia? This is Howard we’re talking about, one of the highest ranked members in one of the most secretive government organisations in the MCU, delivering a load so secretive he didn’t even engage his own chauffeur. You think he would go around telling everyone about this plan? Or would he…most likely have only told the other person who is at a similar rank as him, aka Madam Margaret Carter?

As for the post-mortems, did Tony not even view her body? This is Tony Stark — I know I have a lot of snark about him on my blog but he is supposed to be one of the more intelligent and STEM-educated persons in the Avengers, who has always had major trust issues and frequently looks down on other people’s competency and insists on doing everything himself. You’re saying he would not think it’s weird that there’s a CCTV right next to the damn car and it would…conveniently be missing footage from around the incident? That a sober Howard would just drive into a tree in a night with good visibility and no other traffic around (assuming Bucky obscured the motorbike’s tyre tracks)? If Bucky didn’t obscure his own tyre tracks, Tony didn’t want to hunt down whose bike that was? What I’m saying is, as I’ve always said, is that the Starks’ deaths were a massive deus ex machina to get the fight between Tony and Steve to turn personal. It wasn’t fair to Tony’s characterisation, because it made it seem like he just rolled over and accepted a very strange circumstance as a straight forward car accident when he’s exactly the type of person who would kick up a stink and question everything. (AU where Tony discovers Shieldra 25 years early?)

The location of Karpov is interesting. If I recall correctly though, the Red Room was only sent to spy on them not to work with them? As for Karpov, it isn’t unusual for branches of agencies to hide important information from each other even in the law enforcement side, so even if Soviet and American branches of Hydra had a collegial relationship I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to keep his 5 frozen Winter Soldiers hidden. And you’re right, maybe he went to Ohio to see if there are better ways to subjugate the soldiers with the intention of bringing it back to Siberia to use it on the decommissioned Winter Soldiers. 

[cowgurrrl]

Playing the Game

Pairing: Javier Peña x CIA!reader

Summary: The Aftermath [4.0k]

Warnings: interrogation setting, language, description of injuries (NOTHING GRAPHIC), discussions of nightmares, short dialogue in Spanish, Chekov’s gun if you squint really hard, some smutty thoughts and happenings, a little bit of backstory, canonical violence

"I understand that the events from a few months ago are still fresh in everyone's minds," you say, looking around the room of higher-ups. It's a big mix. CIA, DEA, military personnel, and even Ambassador Noonan. That's standard, you think. It's not every day an undercover CIA agent gets made in the streets of Medellín, kidnapped, and tortured for three days. "But my health has improved over these past few weeks, and my doctors have cleared me to return to the field. Given the grace of the board here today, I would like to return to work and finish the job I came to Colombia to do." 

You accepted the transfer to the United States Embassy in Bogotá a little over two years ago and did desk work for a few months before committing to an undercover job to collect intel on the cartel. It was safe enough. Most days were uneventful as you tuned into the codes and subtle behaviors of those involved. Still, you almost always carried your service weapon with you. You made the right friends. You kept your head down. You checked in with another CIA agent once a week and regularly relayed information to two DEA agents, Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. You were fine until you weren't. 

You still don't really know how they found out you were undercover or exactly what happened over those three days after they snatched you from the sidewalk. Sometimes, you're able to string together conversations had between them beating the shit out of you, but it's a lot of you repeating yourself. "No sé nada. No sé nada." You said over and over again as they accused you of lying and went back to torturing you. It wasn't an official ruling, but the people who stormed into the building collectively believed you were dead. When they stumbled in to find you sitting there, beaten but breathing, they thought it was a small-scale miracle. Upon further investigation and questioning, they were even more surprised you didn't give up any information. Instead, you threw out false leads to buy yourself and the embassy time. This wasn't your first rodeo. You knew better. 

All in all, you walked away starving and dehydrated with a perforated eardrum, deep lacerations from your own pair of handcuffs, a broken wrist, countless cuts and bruises, a concussion, a fucked up knee, and cigarette burns on your arms. Guards parked themselves outside your hospital room and your apartment until they were sure the threat to your life was suspended. Since then, you've been stuck at home, bored to tears, doing physical therapy exercises to regain strength in your leg, and reading declassified files sent to you. You're up to date on the latest happenings in Medellín and more than ready to come back. 

"Agent, I appreciate your willingness and courage to return to work, but how do you know the sicarios won't try to come after you again?" Colonel Wysession asks, and you shrug.

"How do we know that they might not try to come after any of us?" You ask. "You made a statement when you killed everyone involved with my kidnapping. They should know not to fuck with government agents, especially after Kiki Camarena's death." 

"'Should' doesn't mean they won't try it again." Ambassador Noonan chimes in. 

"You're right. They're still out there, wreaking havoc on the country and innocent people, which means you need all the hands you can get to catch them. I know firsthand how they operate and communicate with each other. You won't be able to get that information again, especially after the raid." You say. Agent Jones, the CIA representative, sighs as he flips your file open and looks over it. The interagency cooperation is nice and all, but it really comes down to him and Ambassador Noonan to make the final call. 

"You have an impressive record here, Agent. You were one of the top graduates from Camp Peary. A stint overseas to surveil communist groups in Eastern Europe. Assistance in multiple criminal investigations at home. Your information and skill have helped your country in innumerable ways," he says. "They even gave you a code name for your successes undercover: The Swallow."

"To be clear, I didn't approve of that name." You say quickly, and Agent Jones looks up from your file. 

"It's rare to get a code name anyone approves of." He says, and you nod, deciding to play nice.

"I guess that's true." 

You know exactly why you got given that name, and it will never not make your skin crawl. Years of work in the Agency, months spent undercover, and enough bullets fired in the name of democracy to haunt you for a lifetime, and in return, you get that name plastered to your record forever. So much for respect, right?

"Agent, our main concern right now is that in bringing you back to the field, we are putting a target on your back. Now, you've made it very clear that is a burden you're willing to carry, but that doesn't mean the United States is willing to carry it as well." Ambassador Noonan says.

"Ambassador, with all due respect, the second we put American agents on the ground here in Colombia, the United States not only carried the burden but also condoned it. Other Agency personnel are all aware of the immediate threat of being here and doing this work, and many, many men have disappeared because of it. I've made it back more than once. I can do it again."

"Are you sleeping well, Agent?" Agent Jones asks out of the blue, and you turn to look at him. The question throws you off guard. You were prepared to defend your work and skill, not your personal habits. But, your mind immediately jumps to the other night without your permission. 

It started how it always starts. Flinching in your sleep at phantom hits and talking to no one in particular. Random mumbling at first but then clearer, louder, until you were screaming. You shot up in bed, shaking and crying and swearing you could smell burnt flesh again. You didn't know where you were at first, but old habits die hard, and you instinctively reached for your gun. Someone grabbed your hand to keep you from hurting yourself and shushed you when you cried louder at the grip on your wrists. "It's me," he said gently, turning you around to face him. "It's me."

"I'm sleeping as well as anyone in my line of work can." You tell Agent Jones, pushing the memory from your head. "I'll sleep much better once Escobar's in the ground or behind bars."

"You're really dedicated to this, huh?" Colonel Wysession says, eyeing Noonan out of the corner of his eye, and you nod.

"A couple of loyal men with guns don't scare me, sir," you say. "After the show of force at the recon, I doubt they'll come after any one of us again. But if they do and it's me, I'll get on the first flight home. No questions asked." You know it's a good offer. You know they love to take risks with their agents and then act like they're doing them a service by taking them out. You know how to play this game.

Jones, Noonan, and Wysession talk quietly amongst themselves as you sit there, your hands folded calmly in front of you. It takes them all of two minutes to come to a decision. 

"You're cleared to return to four weeks of desk duty. After that time, we will reevaluate your position and see if we can't get you back in the field." Ambassador Noonan tells you decisively, and your jaw clenches. 

"Four weeks?" 

"I can make it six."

"Four will be perfectly fine, ma'am. Thank you, Ambassador." You say as you stand up and shake her hand.

"Welcome back, Agent." 

You almost forgot how mind-numbing desk duty is. If you hadn't been made, you definitely would've. All day, you watch agents from other agencies come in and out with intel and stories from the streets while you're forced to sit there and file reports on a typewriter that may be older than you. You want to gouge your eyes out when you catch wind of a planned tactical pursuit. The gun sitting in the top drawer of your desk feels like it's burning a hole in your brain, and all you want to do is go back out and do actual work. You didn't graduate top of your class to be a fucking secretary.

You don't know what's worse: desk duty or being chained to your desk when a familiar voice calls your name.

"Well, if it isn't the biggest pain in my ass," you greet as Javi parks himself in front of you. He doesn't object to you calling him a pain in the ass. It even seems to amuse him. "How can I help you, Javier?" 

"What makes you think I need somethin', huh? Maybe I just wanted to see how you're doing." Javi says, and you chuckle, shuffling especially important files away from prying eyes. He rests his hands on your desk and leans forward, his billowy shirt opening enough to give up a nice view of his chest. You glance between him and his collarbones and level him with a knowing look. 

"Call it intuition." You say. You wait another second for him to fess up to what he needs before lifting your hands to start typing again. He sighs and slides you a picture of a sicario, looking around to ensure nobody's watching the interaction. 

"What do you know about him?" He asks quietly. You furrow your brows and shake your head. 

"Who's that?" 

"C'mon, I know you have intel on all these fuckers. I just need to know where he hangs out. We need to ask him a few questions." 

"And when Noonan asks where you got the information? Because you know she will ask."

"I'll say I got it from an especially beautiful high-level CI."

"Enticing," you say. "I don't work for you, Javi. If you want information, go out on the streets and get it yourself." 

"Nobody's willing to acknowledge that this guy is the reason a CIA agent got kidnapped." He says. You stiffen in your chair and look at the picture again. You know you have information on him and remember seeing him around town when you were undercover. You also know you're not supposed to give classified information to the DEA until it is declassified.

"How do you know that?" You ask, and he shrugs as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"If I tell you, are you gonna give me something in return?"

"If you make it good." 

"We have reason to believe one of Pablo's informants caught you sniffing around for information and started tracking your movements. We still don't know how he found out you were CIA, and we need to find him to understand how," he says, pointing at the picture to emphasize his point. You take a deep breath and debate your options. "Look, all I'm asking you to do is… misplace a few files. It happens all the time. There's no way it would come back to you. Plus, I know how bored you are. Live a little."

"They've still got you on desk duty?" Steve asks as he comes down the steps, and you look away from Javi's intense gaze to smile at him. Steve, Javi's partner and DEA's golden boy, has always been kind to you. You're friends with his wife, Connie, and you've spent many a drunken night at their apartment. He's a good man. You give it a few more months here before that changes. 

"Couple more weeks." You say before looking back at Javi. “Sabe lo que me estás pidiendo que haga?” Thank God for white men who move to a country with no understanding of the language. Javi gives you a look and chews on the inside of his cheek. 

“Por supuesto que no.” He shakes his head and you scoff. 

"Eso es que piensaba," you say as you sigh, tear off a corner from a scrap piece of paper, and write down the name of a local bar. "His name is Jorge Alemán. He hides from his wife and mistresses at this bar downtown. He's gonna be armed, so be careful." You hold out the piece of paper to Javi but pull it back before he can grab it. "This doesn't come back to me."

"Course not." He says. You finally hand it to him and look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's watching you give him information. Steve looks confused but willing to go along with whatever as Javi memorizes the name. 

"Do me a favor?" You say, forcing his brown eyes away from the paper. "Don't pull your punches with him. They certainly didn't with me." It's the most you've talked about the kidnapping at work since it happened. You catch both Steve and Javi looking at the thick scars around your wrists, but you don't pull them away. If anything, you hope it inspires them to get a little creative with their interrogation. 

"Yes, ma'am," Javi promises. With that, he takes the paper and the picture, and the two of them disappear up the stairs to do whatever they need to get information. It's better for all three of you if you don't know the exact details of how the other does their jobs. You've each seen the aftermath of each other's training. You don't need to imagine much, but it's a nice boundary in a time where there seems to be none.

When Steve and Javi come back a few hours later with "important intel" for the Ambassador, you pretend not to know anything about it. Thirty minutes later, you're called in to get the information for the first time, and you tell them what you already told Steve and Javi. They agree to fly CENTRA SPIKE over him for a few days to see if they can pick anything up. "Is there anything I can do to assist with this investigation, Ambassador?" You ask before she can try to dismiss the three of you, and she shakes her head. 

"A few more weeks, Agent. I need to ensure your safety before I let you loose again."

"Ambassador, it might be helpful to let her return fully to the field. It could inspire Alemán to reach out to his contacts about her, and we could get more information about how she got made." Steve suggests, and Javi nods.

"He's right. We have to give CENTRA SPIKE something to pick up. Why not details about her?" Obviously, your absence has impacted them, especially if they're going to bat for you. Part of you warms at the thought of them caring so much about you, but the other part worries about what the Ambassador will say. 

"Her work is also valuable to the Embassy as a whole. It would be a mistake to sideline her any longer."

"Okay, gentlemen, you've made your point," Noonan cuts Steve off before he can continue, and you have to fight your smile when she looks at you. "Can you handle this?" She asks, and you nod.

"Yes, ma'am." You say. She shakes her head before reaching for what you're assuming is your file behind her and writing something down.

"The second I think it's too much for you, I'm pulling you back out. This time for two months and there will be no negotiations to be had unless you want to get on a plane home. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," you agree. "Thank you, Ambassador."

"Don't make me regret this." 

You'd be lying if you said you didn't go home with a little extra pep in your step. You got two weeks taken off of your mandatory desk duty and got your badge back. You've had much worse days, most of which ended with you drinking one too many and smoking until your small apartment is hazy. Today, you feel much better despite your apartment being a mess.

Mail has piled up on the counter next to your medical discharge paperwork and physical therapy exercises. Letters postmarked from the United States bore into you as you do your best to ignore them by plopping your bag on top of them. Half-open rolls of gauze are scattered around, so you could always have one on hand when changing your dressings. Your breakfast dishes are still in the sink, but you are not motivated to wash them. Besides, you're just gonna make a bigger mess once you start making dinner. 

You'd been thinking about what you would make all day and only settled on it once you left the Ambassador's office. There's not much you get to control during your day, so you take special care with the food you eat. You like cooking. You always have, and you're not half-bad at it. It's one of the only times you can call the shots and turn your mind off, worries about cartel numbers and communist groups in the jungle pushed away for a time. You're stirring a big pot on the stove when the knock sounds at your door.

He's late. He's always late. He'll claim it's deliberate so nobody can track his movements, but you're convinced he has no sense of time. His work habits can prove as much. You can't count how often you've been working late with him and had to pull him away from his desk because he didn't realize it was midnight. "Just let me do one more thing, and then we can leave," he's always tried to negotiate. You barely manage to get him to stop every time, but he relents after so much convincing. 

You turn down the radio in your kitchen and walk over to the door to let him in, a smile already tugging at your lips. You barely have the deadbolt unlocked before he's pushing through the door and stealing air from you. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes (a nightcap with Steve?), and your hands reach up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. He hums against you as he shuts the door behind him and presses you against it. 

"Somethin' smells good." He mumbles.

"I'm making dinner. Figured it was a special occasion." You say, but he's already ducking his head down to mouth at the column of your throat, his teeth grazing the spot he knows makes you dizzy.

"'M not hungry." He says even though you know for a fact he's been living on cigarettes and coffee all day. You push him away and give him a look, but he feigns innocence, his fingers sneaking their way up your shirt.

"I did not cook all this food for you to tell me you're not hungry," you say. He opens his mouth to argue, but you kiss him before he can, and he, predictably, melts into you. "Dinner first, and then I'll let you do whatever you want me to do. Deal?" 

"Whatever I want?" He echoes, and you nod. "Must be a damn good dinner."

"Mm, the best." You say as you push him off you to return to the stove. He sighs and lets you pass, but he quickly settles behind you, his hands dangerously roaming over you as you stir the pot again. You smack his wrist when his hand tries to duck under your waistband, and he groans. "You made a deal."

"Deals are broken all the time," he kisses the back of your neck, insatiable, and you shiver as his mustache brushes against your skin. "I've also been thinkin' bout this since you pulled that shit at work."

"That really did it for you, huh?" You ask, a smirk pulling at your lips, but it quickly fades when he grinds his hard cock against you. He nips at your earlobe and successfully manages to unbutton the top of your jeans, your breath hitching when his fingers trace the waistband of your panties.

"You don't work for me, huh?" He breathes, and you laugh as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

"My security clearance is higher than yours." 

"Y'know, sometimes I think you like terrorizing me."

"Who says I don't?" You know you're treading thin ice with him, but you don't care. You always like to rile Javi up just to see what he'll do. When he reaches around you to safely turn off the stove, you know you've got him right where you want him. Something in your brain complains about the dinner you made, but it quickly shuts up once his fingers push your underwear to the side and graze your clit. You sigh in relief, already putty in his hands, and he's barely touched you. 

He draws tight circles around the little bundle of nerves, and you grip the edge of the counter to try to keep your balance. His other hand rests lazily around your throat, not enough to restrict your breathing but enough to keep you upright with the promise that he could. This— the desperate need and no time wasted— is more familiar than anything else.

Since the kidnapping, he's treated you like you're made of glass. He tried a few times to come to take care of you, but every time you argued about something, you would make him leave. You'd rather heal alone than have someone staring at you like a kicked dog. You were the one practically begging him to touch you the second you felt well enough, and you were the one who had to convince him you wouldn't break. Later, he would tell you he was scared to even kiss you because he just kept seeing you chained to that chair, bloody and beaten. It's taken a lot of adjustments on both sides, but him pressing you against the counter and taking control is the most reminiscent of the beginnings of your relationship when it was still "one more time," and you could barely stand each other. 

It was stress relief. In a lot of ways, it still is. Nobody knows about you two, and neither of you is ready or willing to disclose to Noonan. She'd immediately send one of you home, but it definitely wouldn't be Javi. So, you're completely fine sneaking between apartments and fucking catastrophic days away. It's enough. Unlike the way he's touching you.

"Javi," you whine, arching into his touch, and he shushes you. His middle finger barely pushes into you when a loud boom sounds nearby, followed by blaring car alarms. You jump, and he quickly withdraws and shields your body with his as the floor shakes. It might not have been in the neighborhood, but it was really fucking close. You wait out any aftershocks or additional bombs, and both your phones start ringing, not even five minutes later. 

A car bomb planted in Jorge Alemán's truck exploded when he put the keys in the ignition. He died before the bomb was even done exploding. Whoever found out you were CIA not only sold that information, but they killed Alemán before he could talk. They must've seen Javi and Steve poking around. They might know you're back at the Agency. They might try to kill you as a way of tying up their loose ends. Steve warns you as much when you show up at the scene, uncomfortably turned on and annoyed at the same time. 

"This could get real ugly," Steve says, and you nod. 

"You regret coming down here?" You ask. He gives you a look as Javi walks around the vehicle's wreckage but shakes his head.

"Do you?"

"No," you say. "I came here to nail Escobar, and I'm not going home until we do. If it has to get ugly for that to happen, that's fine." He looks like he wants to say something more but stops himself. Instead, you join Javi next to the car and talk with the local police about what happened, completely aware that bystanders have seen your face and the gun on your hip. They know you're with the United States government, and they know what you're worth.

Yeah, shit was gonna get real ugly, and you thought you were ready for it. But then again, everyone did in 1992.

TAGLIST:@abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia (let me know if you don't wanna be tagged for this series!)

[wisteriaiswriting]

Secret Santa

Prompt: 20

Words: 466

It was a busy year, so when December rolled around Astra decided on a group activity. Secret santa.

On the first she managed to get most of the agents to gather in the living room, explaining how she’ll find them later. But for now she opened the bag just enough for your hands to reach in and grab a piece of paper, making sure not to look at them.

Soon enough it came to Iso, silently reaching in before pulling out a folded strip of paper. Quickly looking before stuffing it into his pocket. Next it was your turn, hurriedly grabbing your own piece. Stepping back to look, Iso.

You had gotten Iso. Luckily enough you’ve thought about ideas for any future holidays, including Christmas. And now you could use them, having just over three weeks to go through.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯▯

Great, he managed to pull your name from the bag. Not that it wasn’t good, it’s just he had no clue on what to get you. Either you never spoke about it or he just forgot, who knows.

But he did find out Cypher wasn’t participating in the activity. So Iso spoke with him, not even needing to convince him. Quickly able to see many items, finding out they were the items you were saving up for.

So he figured, buy them for you now. So he did. Paying extra so they arrive in time, during which he buys some wrapping paper and learns how to neatly wrap presents. Within two weeks multiple presents labeled to you were sitting in a pile under the tree. Your own joining them a few days before Christmas.

Soon enough Christmas arrived, every participant had been wrangled into the living area. You and Iso were near the tree, in front of the others. Astra stood on the other side, slowly passing out the labeled presents.

The day started with you two, revealing who got you and your presents. Surprised by it being the man next to you. But happy nonetheless. He watched your face change as you saw the presents, one by one seeing everything you wanted.

In minutes you had finished, just looking around at your gifts.

“I, uh, thank you…”

Before he could respond he was next, only speaking when it was revealed who his secret santa was. You.

“Thanks.”

He was slow to open the presents, his eyes widening at each one. The first was a keychain with a code to a shared playlist you made. The next was a new pair of earphones, the case was signed. By who?

His favourite celebrities of course, multiple all over it. He didn’t say anything but you knew what he meant. The attention shifted as he put in the earphones, immediately becoming his favourites for a few reasons.

[madness-combat-confessions]

Okay idk if this is the most Obvious shit and im just slow or if theres been an ask about this or something but we need to talk about cloning and the AAHW more imo!!

If the thing about sanf and dei being previous members (and i think doc being confirmed?) then that begs many questions. Jeb and tricky were also members and we know their lore as past scientists for nexus and then jeb was "hired" by auditor and tricky too probably but we dont have a direct confirmation afaik but everyone else is just? Vauge?

Like either A) AAHW has people working for it that are not clones like the mass agents and soldats and engineers and they are never mentioned (which would be stupid imo considering how far we are into the story) or B) they are all clones that dissented which for deimos is yk not far fetched considering his poster outright stating it

BUT THEN THAT BEGS THE ISSUE ON HAND. Everyone that ive seen online considers the agents as personality-less fucking creatures and i think even canon says smt like that about them but like.. if a clone can dissent then they probably Arent as bland as they seem. And even that isnt far fetched, i mean they hold birthdays apparently and play games to pass time. How deep does it go? How much will do they have? They seem to be conditioned to never run when Hank aka (almost) certain death is around which is one thing but are they scared of death? Do they have favorite foods and colors? How human (or in this case grunt) are they? Is it just Some of them that have self awareness/personality? Are they coded to have a personality? If yes is it random or set? Would the AAHW bother to code a random persona generator?? Do they perhaps lose more of their indaviduality/humanity as they progress up on the food chain to be soldats or engineers??

Idk i keep seeing agents n shit in fics and stuff be shown as these sometimes mechanical creatures with 0 varying personality and 0 humanity and it makes me heavily wonder about them. Maybe theyre just a bit dumber than average due to being mass cloned? Shrug. I dont know i think theyre more interesting when considered to be actual people than just. Puppets. They are metaphorical and sorta physical puppets yeah but like they held a birthday man. Fuck. They had a birthday.

Agents keep me up at night.

-anon MMS if i can claim that cuz its funny /opt!!

Glad to know that I'm not the only one who also thinks about the AAHW!

I personally think/headcanon that basically everyone in the AAHW is a clone because anyone that could had been an actual real person is dead (lol). And idk how to explain it but from what I've read they lack S-3LFS, but they still are kinda like people? Like they might just appear like mindless clones who only wanna kill Hank, and they are that don't get me wrong, but I think they also still act like people to some extent (or at least some of them)

I mean one of the agents in MC 9.2 had been writing "We are abandoned " on a wall so to me that says they're capable of understanding their situation and feeling sad (?) about it?

Now I'm not sure on the engineers and the soldats, I mean a soldat literally blew a rocket where their team was because they thought their boss had told them to. Which makes me think two things

1: The AAHW is a bit too blindly devoted to the Auditor. Which is probably because they are clones that were made/'programmed' to be that way.

2: I think that the soldats and the engineers have less "free will" than the agents because of the ATP

There's also something else I wanna talk about

This:

Like hello? What the fuck did this guy do?

From my understanding what is considered a dissenter in this series is someone who goes against the Auditor and the agency. So what did this guy even do? Did he try to betray them like Deimos and Doc did?

Or was it perhaps something minor like not doing their job? Like actually make a decision for their own and don't do what the Auditor says for once, like how an actual person would do?

I wanna say that's a stupid reason to kill one if their agents, but it's a possibility: the Auditor is shown to not really take it kindly when people don't do their job, she literally sliced a grunt in half for it. Even though all the grunt did was play cards with some other agents.

I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case this guy was damned a "dissenter" and killed by the Auditor (or maybe the other members) for that reason.

So taken to account that they are soulless clones but can still 1: celebrate birthdays 2: play games to pass time 3: dislike their shitty ass situation I'd say that they have some personality, it's just that the Auditor is too strict to allow them to show/act like it. Because she doesn't want people with free will in the agency he wants mindless clones who'd do whatever she says.

Does this make sense I swear it does in my head I'm just bad at putting it to words.

[novafire-is-thinking]

^ little inconveniences—like this title not fitting :/

Before I begin: This post is not written for the purpose of passing moral judgement. It’s meant to be an analysis of Optimus’ ethical reasoning.

Beyond Six Lasers

Individuals know what is best for them! Who but I know what I need? Who but you may decide what is best for you?

I would like to go to Six Lasers, thought Orion Pax.

But if anyone walked up to Six Lasers and demanded to get in whenever the desire struck, the park would be overwhelmed. Structure was necessary. And individuals would never impose Structure on themselves. Would they?

Surely not. Sentient beings banded together and made decisions for the collective good. Not all of those decisions would benefit every individual. (CoP)

The paragraph before this part of Exodus is, I believe, the most controversial moment in any of the Aligned novels. Orion gets upset about being unable to go to an amusement park, and fans have had a field day with it.

However, there are two things I’ve never seen discussed:

How Orion’s questioning is just a small glimpse of the age-old, bigger picture conflict between “Ethical Egoism” and “Utilitarianism” in ethical philosophy

How Orion responds to this conflict

Ethical Philosophy 101 - Ethical Egoism vs. Utilitarianism:

Ethical Egoism operates on the premise that because only individuals know what’s best for themselves, they have a moral responsibility to act on their own interests first and foremost, in order to achieve the greatest amount of good outcomes for the greatest number of individuals.

Utilitarianism operates on the premise that even though individuals may know what’s best for themselves, they have a moral responsibility to act on the interests of the greater good first and foremost, in order to achieve the greatest amount of good outcomes for the greatest number of individuals.

In both cases, the rightness or wrongness of an action falls on the consequences or results, and both have the same goal: to maximize pleasure.

In reality, this is far from being black-and-white, with people sitting on any and all points across the spectrum between these two philosophies.

Even so, there’s no question that Optimus sits closer to the Utilitarian side of the spectrum, as I will cover later.

He was tangled up, uncertain what he should be thinking or feeling.

What I need, thought Orion Pax, is a conversation that doesn’t happen inside my own head. (CoP)

It’s implied that Optimus analyzed both sides on his own, and that after he considered the dilemma long enough, he gave up trying to figure out for himself which view was correct. He doubted his ability to come to a conclusion on his own and sought out the counsel of another in order to help him find clarity.

At that point, Optimus did not operate on any sort of personal, “gut instinct” way of determining what was morally or ethically correct. Instead, he relied heavily on a mix of internal intellectual analysis and the input of others.

How Inconvenient…

Wreck-Gar no doubt would have Makeshift rendered to his basic elements, thought Optimus Prime, so of course they could not do that. At times it was mightily inconvenient to believe in a code of ethics and individual rights. (Exiles)

Optimus, Jazz, and Prowl managed to catch Makeshift after finding out he’d been masquerading as Hound and acting as a double agent for the Decepticons.

They were unable to agree on what to do with the shapeshifter. Prowl and Jazz wanted to wash their hands of Makeshift. They thought that, tactically and legally, it would be best to turn him over to Wreck-Gar and Junkion jurisdiction. After all, Makeshift murdered one of the Junkions earlier in the story.

However, knowing Wreck-Gar was eager to execute the shapeshifter using methods bordering on torture, Optimus refused to even consider handing Makeshift over because of his adherence to his code of ethics.

Whether this code of ethics was the Autobot Code, his own, or both is never specified, but it’s highly likely that the Autobot Code was heavily inspired by Optimus’ own morals.

And even though it would have been far more convenient for him and the entire Autobot cause if he’d handed Makeshift over, Optimus refused to compromise.

Fairness > Effectiveness

Optimus Prime left the room, bringing Jazz and Prowl out with him to wait for Wreck-Gar, who was standing by to remove Makeshift and the entire stasis field apparatus to the closest thing Junkion had to a jail. It was, in an irony all the Autobots could appreciate, the abandoned fuel reservoir of an ancient spacegoing vessel, five times as large as the Ark’s reservoir and with only one opening. Junkions bundled Makeshift into it and welded it shut.

“Where should we put this junk?” Wreck-Gar asked. “Space is the place, you ask me! Break him down!”

“No, we’re not going to do that,” Optimus Prime said. “Keep it here and turn off the stasis field as soon as you’ve got it sealed up.”

“Prime, you can’t be serious,” Prowl said.

“It’s the fair thing to do,” Optimus Prime said. (Exiles)

Optimus has always cared about fairness over effectiveness, even in war when things are often the exact opposite of fair.

In an earlier scene, Makeshift revealed that, as a shapeshifter, he’d die if he stayed in one form too long. The stasis field the Autobots had locked him in would eventually kill him if they didn’t turn it off.

Junkion didn’t have a “jail” that could hold Makeshift indefinitely, so Optimus opted to have him and the stasis field apparatus placed in something that would hold him temporarily. Optimus knew Makeshift would eventually find a way out of his “jail,” yet he still ordered that the stasis field be turned off.

Knowing the danger Makeshift posed to the Junkions and the Autobots, Optimus still chose to let him go.

Where Prowl saw letting Makeshift die at the hands of the Junkions as the safest, most effective option for the majority of those involved (Autobots and Junkions), Optimus saw how that would go against all he believed in.

Ethical Philosophy 101 - Act vs. Rule Utilitarianism:

Act Utilitarianism evaluates things on a case-by-case basis, with an emphasis on the specific consequences and utility of individual actions.

Rule Utilitarianism evaluates things in terms of general moral rules, with an emphasis on the broader consequences and utility of a general rule.

As with Ethical Egoism and Utilitarianism, Act and Rule Utilitarianism exist on a spectrum, with both having advantages and disadvantages.

Generally, Optimus leans toward Rule Utilitarianism, as evidenced by his adherence to the general rule of the Autobot Code and his unwillingness to go with what Prowl sees as the safer, more effective option in this particular case with Makeshift.

Inconvenient, but Imperative

How much easier it would be, Optimus Prime thought again, if his ethics were a little more like Megatron’s. . .or even Wreck-Gar’s. Then he could just dispose of transgressing bots without a second thought. The simplicity!

But that was not the Autobot way, and that would never be the way of the one the Matrix of Leadership chose to be Prime.

Not as long as he was Prime. (Exiles)

Optimus believed that the Autobot way (Rule) would lead to the greatest amount of benefit for the greatest number of individuals. (Utilitarianism)

Over the course of the war, he remained fully aware that his rule-based Utilitarian code of ethics was inconvenient, and there were even times when he compromised.

But overall, it was extremely important to Optimus that he do his best to stick to his code of ethics, even when facing immense pressure.

✧ ✧ ✧

series master post

[fizzigigsimmer]

New Ask Game for Writers 🪷

Very low-pressure rules: Tell me which fic of yours was the most fun to write (if you want to). Like, which one did you have a blast writing? Feel free to share, to rec, to tell us WHY they were fun, etc.

tagged by the amazing @bigdumbbambieyes!

It was a lot harder to come up with an answer for this question than I expected. I have a lot of fun with everything I write, but some fics are more challenging than others. Doesn't make them less fun for me, though and the challenge can be it's own type of fun.

lol so I had to tell myself to stop overthinking it, and surprising even myself I am going with my Harringrove Hannibal AU: He Who Holds The Devil. I love NBC's Hannibal and little plot bunnies for a Harringrove exploration of that narrative had been hopping around in my head for awhile. It's dark subject matter, a serial killer falling in love with an FBI agent and seducing them into the dark...but man is it DELICIOUS! The show lends itself really well to the Stranger Things Universe due to the way it uses magical realism to explore its characters psyche but I'm not gonna lie, writing was tough.

It was challenging because I had to find the right tone so that it felt like the show (Hannibal) which is steeped in prose and is very cerebral, but also make sure it still felt like Stranger Things. I also discovered for myself how difficult it is to give the devil a love story. Violence and death at every turn, but somehow you're still invested in whether they will or they won't find their way to each other.

I loved writing Steve as the wolf in sheep's clothing. A deeply flawed anti-hero who desperately hates himself and is just as desperately trying not to be a total piece of shit. He's an unhealed victim. Broken bad. He's games the system. He toes a line and pretends at a moral code he abandoned years ago. A manipulator, but not yet a predator. He hates that he wants to be.

And I will tell you right now, Billy begs for a chance to be written as THE WORST and still somehow the one character you want to win. The fun I had with this. Hehe I literally stop what I am doing once a day to jot down some little thought I had for the sequel because Billy this way is just SO GOOD. The things he does, and the lengths he's willing to go to purely for the pleasure of doing it had to be horrifying, while also maintaining his humanity. What's more, I had to figure out ways to make the reader question everyone else's humanity - whether or not he's right and we all might just be a little bit monstrous. I live for philosophical debates on morality so this was like a huge playground for me.

So yeah, I got to write Billy and Steve at their worst and most unhinged, while still being absolutely INSANE for each other, and it was a great time.

This was also my first big bang project and I got partnered with two great artists, and @robthegoodfellow came in clutch as a beta reader. And honestly, getting to chat with them, and also everyone on the discord was so enriching on top of being fun. Being able to share the experience with others as I tackled my fear of big bangs was amazing.

my no-pressure tags: @adelacreations @medusapelagia @dragonflylady77 @spaceofentropy

[ingydarwp]

Hi Adri!!! Hi!!! I bring questions and shiny trinkets for Sorrow! If your OC's were a book, which book would they be? (please include Agent Six. Agent Six, you are fantastic. And Jackie. They were both fantastic.) i fear that is the only positive question for today. Jackie: Without giving too much away, when Jackie dies, is she in pain? Is it a mercy killing? I can see Rick doing it, or Carl, but I think finding out Carl killed her sister might actually kill Ramona. What was Jackie's favorite subject in school? I wanna know more about that precious girl who is going through too much. Did Jackie have dreams for the future? Or did she intend to care for her rabies-shot-needing sister for the rest of her life? Before she dies, does she have some peace? Even for the briefest of moments. I hope she does. Jackie deserves all the peace in the world. Would she also despise Negan? Or is she hidden in his pocket? (i am working on a Jackie edit with the clips from the new season of YJ. the one where she is laid in the water. i am scheming. be afraid.) Sorrow: Does being unable to save Sorrow tear Cas apart? I can imagine it will, but maybe it won't, maybe he knew all along that her death was bound to happen, and that trying to break the curse was only delaying the inevitable. What parts of Sorrow are most affected by her bird genes? The wings are pretty major, as is her voice, but are there other bits? I have many, many more questions, but not enough time 😔. i shall be back!!!

ZIGGY YOUR QUESTIONS ARE SO PERFECT OH MY LAWWWDDD

OCs as books!!

agent six mention!! let’s start off with him: agent six is ‘the princess bride.’ he is very much inspired by wesley, so it’s only fitting that he would be that book. i think he’s also kinda ‘the hobbit’ coded, tho 😭

isabell is ‘the girl of ink and stars’. i think it’s something about lupe and isabella. they’re very much reflective of kitty and isabell, and just the general nature of the book is isabellish.

cat is the ‘ruby redfort’ book series. it’s this series about a child spy, and cat is based HEAVILY off of ruby. she’s less smooth and slick with her humour, but she’s super ruby-coded, and eli is basically a picture-perfect variant of ruby’s friend clancy. matt is very hitch, too.

gracie’s a difficult one!! maybe ‘the book thief’???

tiger is ‘where the wild things are’. no questions asked.

matty is the only one i’m very very sure of, and he has two. one would be ‘the raven cycle’, a series of books about a forest that speaks latin, a cursed girl named blue and her group of strange, private school boys. matty is inspired very very very very much so by adam parrish, but also ronan and noah, so i think there’s just a lot of him embedded into those books. the second matty book would be ‘what beauty there is’. i can’t explain it in a way that does it justice but that book always makes me think of him.

sorrow is ‘miss peregrine’s home for peculiar children.’ i mean, how could she not be?

jackie dying!!

i’m sad to say that jackie does in fact die in pain. excruciating, elongated pain. she does not go easy and she does not go quick, and there’s nothing merciful about it. i considered making her death swift, but unfortunately, it just didn’t feel right. jackie is a being of hurt. she needed to die in a way that reflected that ☹️

jackie’s school + future!!

jackie really liked english in school. she was on the debate team too, if that counts as a favourite subject, and she liked learning about anything that focused on the human, moral side of things. she hated how desensitised the world was, so she wanted to restart its nerves and make everyone feel things again.

i think jackie would’ve wanted to go into a job where she could really work with people. she knew deep down that eventually, tiger would learn to be a person, but she also knew she’d miss having someone depend on her. i think she would’ve been a teacher, or volunteered anywhere she could, or worked as a nurse. something that she felt was helping people.

she also would’ve really wanted children of her own. i’d just like to put that out there. she could’ve been ☹️ a good mother ☹️

peace in dying!!

yes, but in a very bittersweet sort of way. the moment when she really realised that she was dying, and that all the pain inside of her was going to go away, i think she would’ve felt peaceful at that. the situation she dies in is not peaceful at all, and it’s as horrible as everything else that happens to her, but she finds comfort in knowing that it is coming to an end, as all things do.

jackie and negan!!

i think jackie would feel very conflicted about negan. on one hand, she’d hate him — much like tiger does — but i think he’s the sort of person who is cruel and oddly paternal enough that he’d be able to tap into some sort of vulnerability she as — also a bit like how he is with tiger.

i think she’d try to just despise him, but she’d be more caught up in being afraid of him. she’d LOATHE him for the way he acts with tiger, though.

the inevitable curse!!

when i say it wrecks castiel, it destroys him. every little bit of faith and goodness and hope in him just gets crushed. there is no more castiel once sorrow is gone. just a husk of the angel he used to be. when death comes to him, it comes kindly.

a really crucial thing to understand about wings!cas is that his whole purpose was sorrow. from the second he knew of her existence, that was what gave him his spark. he dedicated everything he had to her, and he would’ve given the world to keep her alive.

she’s a crisis of his faith (not intentionally quoting taylor swift but it happened 😭) and he values sorrow more than he’s ever valued anything. more than god, more than his grace, more than humanity. at the very core of castiel, there is sorrow. he doesn’t know how to be without her.

bird genes!!

i love this question bc it means i get to drop the random bits of bird lore i thought up for sorrow 😋

for one, she has talons. they’re retractable, and because they lie under the skin of her finger but over the bone, it means she can’t bend her finger after the knuckle because the keratin prevents it. if you bend your finger, you see how it bends in two places? sorrow’s only bends in one.

she’s also a thief. not because she enjoys it or because she’s malicious, but because her brain is hardwired to take anything she would wanna add to her ‘nest’. that’s why she’s an insane hoarder!! it’s not really controllable either. people have to hold her hand while they walk around stores so she doesn’t start wiping things from the shelves.

she’s got very birdish movements. i mention it at one point in chapter two, i think, but she moves very fast and very jerkily, and she doesn’t blink a lot. she’s a little uncanny.

she also really likes nesting. the back seats of the impala are her main nest, where she stores all her trinkets and scraps of food and it’s where she feels the most safe, but she’s adaptable. wherever she is, she just likes to feel like it’s her home.

thank you for your awesome awesome questions!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[tenaciouschronicler]

EOA4 Recap

A much shorter recap but still good to have to clarify certain things.

Before she woke up, Dream Rose was awake on Derse's moon. She now had memories from her future self's doomed alternate reality.

Looks like the two did indeed merge and my theory on it being the reason Rose snapped has changed satus to Absolutely.

[John] found some apparatus used to genetically engineer footsoldiers and agents for the white and black armies from chess piece DNA.

We know this but what makes the difference between the two? Its likely to be the barcodes they have but you would think having agent status would give more benefit than just a special pawn for the game. Cause if thats the case WV got the short end of the stick.

The gods live far beyond the veil, and advise the children of the moon of Derse, and serve as the counterpart to the role Skaia plays for the children of Prospit's moon.

...

......

*inhale* So are you telling me that on top of being the battleground, the unconfirmed force behind eveything, and the crucible of potential, Skaia is also the guide for John and Jade?

Ok then.

At least that paints both the Gods and Skaia as ambiguois entities. That also means Prospit dreamers probably cant hear the gods and Derse dreamers cant see cloud visions. I still dont fully trust either one.

They deemed the code which would inevitably be used to create Becquerel to be dangerous.

Remains to be seen how exactly but does add credence to the notion that Bec should never have been allowed to be created. Jade sure has access to a lot of things shes not supposed to.

The sprite guarded the egg, which unknown to Dave, simply needed time to hatch before he could enter.

I need to know Jades entry item. I want to analyze them, how they were used amd what that means. Like it sounds like Dave needed a lesson on patience, maybe? And I dont mean to get religious with John and his apple, but Adam being the first man and everyone else being his decendent vs. John being the first to enter the game and using ectobiology to create 8 children. Like, not sure if its intended but its there ya'll.*

When the black king captures the white king's scepter, the Reckoning begins.

Oh. That explains how the white king never used the power. Does that mean the black scepter doesnt have the same ability or has it just never been done?^

Jack then killed the entire rebellion army, sparing only WV?. Perhaps to leave a survivor to tell the story, or perhaps out of respect for a fellow mutineer. Only he knows.

He came, and she traded the two white crowns for the green box, Jade's present to John. He appeared pleased to uphold the bargain, either out of the misunderstanding that he was still under control of its contents, or out of respect for PM?'S tenacity and brutality in pursuing the prize. Only he knows.

I brought these two together solely for how odd it is that Jack seemingly has unknown motives. From a story perspective, Jack is a wild card (badum tss) not tethered to the whims of the Game, at least not fully. Jack has rebelled so hard that he has negated a majority of the innate programming in both sessions we've seen/heard. I just wonder how that is.

CD, who had been tailing [PM? and HB?], recovered the white scepter, and delivered it to Jack.

Good good! I did indeed ask that question, thank you for clarifying.

The defense portals each lead to Earth, as Skaia defends itself, in a way, by sacrificing Earth. While most meteors are sent to the time period when the kids begin the game, many lead to a number of different time periods.

Oh. Well thats not what I thought, good to know.

Grandpa with two flintlock pistols which older Grandpa left behind for him in the lab (which would eventually both wind up in Jade's room).

Wait really? ..... Yeah they are. Great incentive to re-read and also to look closer at details.

Elsewhere, on Dave's world LOHAC, bro dueled with Jack briefly. It was a stalemate, until bro plunged his sword into the large floating record platform they were fighting on. This released a mysterious energy from the cracks. Bro escaped.

Im getting real sick an' tired of mysterious energy! Nothing good ever seems to come of it how is this one gonna different?!

WQ exiled herself with an entourage on a royal cruiser, and landed on Earth. She departed n a solo quest, leaving her people to their own devices.

... WQ i had high expectations for you how could you.

It was also included with four powerful weapons, the Royal Deringer (broken sword), the Quills of Echidna (wands), Ahab's Crosshairs (rifle), and the Warhammer of Zillyhoo (hammer).

See I figured the crosshairs were gonna be the gun because of the name Ahab because my first thought was Moby Dick, though I havent read it. And deringer has pirate vibes which always equates to swords. Have I looked at any definitions? No. Terrible form for me.

WQ asked WV for something. WV revealed he had been storing the complete, quad-prototyped ring Trusty Knife.

Well looks like I got those switched around but how did WQ know that WV had the ring?

A coupl'a things I wanna unpack here and there but I've put off Act 5 enough so its gonna have to wait a mo'.

*edit: i just missed the rest of this paragraph??? oops

^edit: same here smh

[unfriendlyamazon]

dueling dragons chapter 2 (wip)

i promise i haven't forgotten about this!! i think i need to spend an hour just plotting things out, but i'm still in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship... i think i finally have an intro i don't hate, so i'm sharing it here as a little bonus content for my fellow kaijou followers!

It had been a hell of a day at Kaiba Corp, and for Yuuto Tanaka, personal assistant to Seto Kaiba himself, he knew hell.

The man was on a rampage today. His first three calls in the morning, he’d chewed out the other executives and given his ultimatums for how they would interact with Kaiba Corp. Inevitably, it would mean sending out the other teams to do damage control and ensure their partners that not every interaction would be like this. It was an outright lie, but egos had to be soothed. For lunch, Tanaka delivered Kaiba’s protein shake as he smashed away on his keyboard, rewriting lines of code he was sure their development team had screwed up. Statistics were delivered, presentations scheduled, and then it was 2:00. Tanaka had been dreading this meeting most of all.

Tanaka hadn’t been around for the Battle City days. He’d only known of Duel Monsters and Kaiba Corp in passing, and from the few international incidents they’d caused, but on moving to Domino City and entering the working world, it’d become unavoidable. He’d known Seto Kaiba and Yugi Muto were the titans of Duel Monsters, their statues holding the foundation for what the game would become, and then there was Joey Wheeler. He’d retained a sort of underdog status thanks to his play style, and his wins were never guarantees. Tanaka only really knew, when he sat behind Seto Kaiba at dueling tournaments, that his boss would regard the field with disdain, and his commentary would get more animated with each card Joey Wheeler played. The two hated each other, that much was clear. What wasn’t clear was exactly why.

When marketing had presented their proposal, Tanaka had figured it would go down in flames. But Isono had worked his magic, and now Tanaka trailed behind Kaiba towards the conference room, where they were greeted by bright eyes, a big smile, and a mess of blond hair.

“Afternoon, Kaiba,” Mai Valentine said. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.”

The woman sat casually on the end of the conference table. A purple dress hugged her hourglass figure, and a cropped blazer rested on her shoulders. Kaiba stopped in his tracks on seeing her. Sitting in a chair behind her was Joey Wheeler, a smile on his face. He was dressed casually, but with a button up shirt and a brush taken to his hair to suggest professionalism.

Kaiba’s brows twisted up. “What are you doing here?”

“So polite,” she said with a smirk and stuck out her hand. “I’m here as representative for Mr. Joey Wheeler. I’m his agent.”

Kaiba did not take her hand. He remained standing as Tanaka retrieved a chair, unlocking his tablet to take notes. Two lawyers sat at the other end of the table, and Miss Nakamura sat up in her chair, hands folded over the welcome packet reserved for new duelists. Tanaka gave her a smile, and she nodded back.

“Fine,” Kaiba said. “We can begin.”

“Oh, no, we can’t.” Mai picked up the contract that had been forwarded to her, and it was clear she’d marked it with red pen. “When Joey informed me of the nature of your proposal, I took a second look at this. I know Kaiba Corp is used to having total control over their duelists, but you’ve made it clear this isn’t another sponsorship deal. Miss Nakamura was kind enough to show me the drafts.”

Junko’s smile faltered. The lawyers looked at her unhappily.

“You’re definitely not paying my boy enough,” Mai continued. “We’re talking image rights, voice work, and brand protection. My client requires further compensation.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Kaiba growled.

“Relax, Kaiba.” She slapped it down. “I’ve only got the one counteroffer. 10% increase across the board. Unless your product is a flop, which is frankly unlikely, that should set up Mr. Wheeler with a nice little nest egg for future endeavors.”

One of the lawyers laughed. “Ten percent is well above what our duelists are signed on for.”

Tanaka’s eyes flitted to Kaiba. He was cold as ice, his face a blank sheet. Normally, counteroffers were laughed at, and Kaiba became a storm his opponents had to weather. But his shoulders had a weariness to them, a desire to see this done.

“Two percent,” he said.

Mai laughed. “You are lowballing me! Eight.”

“Five.”

“Done.” She snatched his hand, giving a firm shake. Kaiba immediately withdrew, and she laughed, sitting down beside her client. “You all heard him. Let’s get this paperwork signed.”

“Not quite,” Kaiba said. A telltale smirk crossed his face. “Before we sign our duelists, we have to ensure they won’t embarrass us on the field. Of course, we check the tournament standings–”

“Top three international duelist,” Wheeler said, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t tell me that doesn’t pass your little test.”

“--but the most important thing is how they stand in a fight. Miss Valentine, if you would like to continue with our lawyers as his representatives, I will take the deadbeat to our training station.”

“You got a lot of nerve–” Wheeler jumped up in his chair, and Mai’s hand flew out to pull him back down.

“Of course, Kaiba,” she said, smiling sweetly at the room. “I know Joey won’t disappoint you.”

Kaiba’s warped smile said otherwise. Tanaka didn’t look away as he typed away at his notes. Junko caught his eye from across the room, worry slapped across her face. He could only offer an unsure smile. As far as Kaiba was involved, nothing ever went smoothly.

“Let’s go then,” Kaiba said. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can kick you out.”

Wheeler ground his teeth down, and Mai pinched his cheek in a mock motherly affection.

“Play nice, boys,” she called, waving after them. Tanaka, as always, followed one step behind. It was his job, of course, but he had to admit, it was exciting not knowing what would happen next.