#mainframe jobs

[ghostofbriggiesmalls]

As an information security professional with multiple certifications and a decade+ worth of experience, I need you all to know that this is 100% accurate and exactly how hackers gain entry.

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[umbrellacam]

Saw a post where someone wasn't sure if Tim being good at computers was a fanon thing or not and friend I am happy to inform you that he's been a computer/tech guy from some of his earliest appearances in the comics.

Detective Comics (Vol. 1) #620 (Rite of Passage part 4) - immersed in the ~web~

Robin II: The Joker's Wild #3 - tabletop roleplaying games and spending hours in the basement on the computer - not beating the geek allegations on these fronts, Timmy

Detective Comics (Vol. 1) #676 - Dick was more into traditional detective work and tended to outsource the computer stuff in these days

Batman (Vol. 1) #514 (Prodigal part 10) - hackin' through all the garbage and garble

Robin (1993) #33 - Robin sneaking in and connecting Oracle with the baddies' mainframe so she can do her thing and steal all their data >:)

Nightwing (1996) #6 - "no you're really talented and well suited to be Robin." "no, you." "no, YOU!"

Tim is definitely not as good as Babs/Oracle, but he's certainly her back-up for computer work in the 90's batfam. They're tech buddies and Robin!Tim is her little assistant sometimes, it's super cute:

Birds of Prey (1999) #19 - happy to play with big sister's fancy high-powered toys

Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #125 - real cute kid

And Dick will hand off computer jobs to his little brother when he doesn't want to bother Babs 😂 (that outsourcing I mentioned):

Nightwing (1996) #68 - examine them pixel by pixel, eh? welp, sounds like a job only you can do, Timbo, you got this buddy, byyyyeeeee

And then when he'd grown up and been doing this for years, he leveled up accordingly, and did stuff like use his access to the League of Assassins computers to overload the generators in every base he could find, etc. etc.

Red Robin (2009) #8 - yeah that was pretty dumb of you Ra's :)

So yeah, it was a bit of a specialty of Tim's, in large part because he was introduced just at the turn into the 90's, when personal computers were really starting to take off and become widespread. (Robins gotta be cutting edge and all)

Of course, by no means does it follow that the other Bats suck at computers (there is no 'smart one' they are all incredibly smart and capable). This is especially true as reboots and the sliding timescale of comics have moved the DC characters into modern times, where computers run the world and everyone grows up with one in their pocket. The baseline familiarity and expertise that everyone can be expected to have is just much, much higher these days.

It gets exaggerated in fanon as all character traits do, but computer guy Tim is definitely not something just made up out of whole cloth :)b

[ariariari-freehounreal]

Android!GLaDOS from this dream I had where aperture got overrun and before they destroyed the Mainframe GLaDOS backed herself up into a realistically human android and they thought she was a test subject so they helped her get out.

She wore an eyepatch because she couldn’t really hide her optic or she wouldn’t be able to see

She tells people that her optic is a prosthetic eye she had to get after an accident, but the actual prosthetic is the ‘normal’ eye

Chell had been on the surface for a few years when she ran into GLaDOS while applying for a job in a city [THE WORLD IS OVERRUN BY COMBINE STILL AHHHH] And she got the job and they became friends and had a slow burn and then Chell discovered her real identity and was like. [shocked ASL noises!] but then GLaDOS was like

I’m your only chance at getting out of this place

So they lesbianly teamed up while in their workplace situationship and awkwardly flirted their way to GLaDOS committing violence against a police officer bc the combine discovered she was a robot and they tried to grab Chell bc they were like

This citizen is in danger!

And GLaDOS just pulled out a Glock and shot him and was like that’s MYYY girl and then they started a police chase and then I woke up

Maybe I should make this into a fanfic

[drghostwrite]

Dark Nights

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x preg!wife!reader

Summary:

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

"You can't ask that of her!" Natasha yelled across the table. You were both called into a conference room with Fury and agent Hill, they were talking about a last-minute mission though your wife was concerned about your approaching due date. While they argued and Maria played referee you found yourself staring out the window of the large conference room a million things running through your mind, one hand running along your bump as your baby kicked.

"And who are you to decide that?" Nick Fury shot back at the other agent.

"I'm her wife." Nat responded.

"Oh because that's stopped other agents before." He responded

"Fury you know I respect you but that's my wife, the mother of my child, our unborn child that in case you haven't noticed she's carrying."

"Okay, okay, before this goes any farther... How about we ask Y/N, she is sitting right here." Maria finally spoke up, motioning to your distracted form.

"Y/N?" you're wife gently called.

You rubbed a hand over your eyes trying to clear your head taking in a gasp before refocusing your eyes on them, "If and I mean IF I were to agree to this what all would it entail?"

"Well that..."

"No I want full disclosure, no more confidentiality and clearance levels, if I'm doing this and potentially putting my life and the life of my unborn child on the line I need to know everything." Nat sat next to you and turned to Fury.

"We had a situation a few years back, an agency that's been working against SHEILD, they used to be a part of Hydra but they reformed, they have recruited agaents and took over one of our smaller compounds, though it's to be evacuated this week to keep their identities a secret, we need someone to get in ther."

"That's where I asked why they picked you with being on leave."

"My main concern isn't getting you in, it's the systems on the inside, all the coders did was build into the SHEILD mainframe, they have no access to us but they have similar systems so I need someone that's a trained agent, and good with the computers, it would be in and out, need to know basis, all I need you to do is get in, crash their systems and get out."

"So that's where I come in?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, in and out, only on the condition that you do have agents on site and Natasha is in the command center, I want her in my ear at all times."

"Whatever gets you onboard, let's get you briefed and prepped for the field." Fury said.

---time jump---

You turned down the hallway, dimly lit by soft baseboard lights, you turned another corner but quickly pushed back when you saw two guards stationed outside the control room, any other time you would've just incapacitated them both but being 36 weeks pregnant wasn't helping you much.

"Natasha?"

"Y-Y/N? I'm r-r-ri-ght here what'sss go-going on-n?" The intercoms were breaking up which meant your job was going to get that much harder. "Two guards outside the command room, change of plans."

"Detka please, be careful."

"Will do, intercoms are getting scratchy, if this is it till I get out of here, I love you Natasha."

You made the decision that if you couldn't get in the control room you could still shut it down remotely, so you backtracked and took some different turns stumbling upon the old director's office, silently patting yourself on the back and opening the door.

You walked over to the desk, and brushed your hand along the command bar that's built into the desk, the hovering screens flashed to life. You swiped moving the screens around, they asked for your password and thanked Tony Stark for giving you a built in back door, when Ultron took over he built a back pathway that allowed you access but nothing was associated to you as a person so you had access to the entire system without anyones knowledge. You quickly started working pulling up the mainframe and started untagling the mess the rebellion had created, you were so close to unraveling the whole thing when you felt a sharp pain running through your abdomen.

You stopped in your tracks waiting to see if it was just your imagination, but then another one, this time catching you off guard causing you to keel over using the desk for support. "shit, shit, shit... this can't be happening." you said worry flooding your features, you tried calming yourself but you knew what this could mean.

"Natasha?" You called over the intercoms, but no response so you tried again but you realized there was no signal, you were alone and going into labor. You thought about backtracking and alerting them but as you went to exit the office you heard footsteps, quickly swiping the screens dark again you watched as the guards walked by standing next to the door frozen, you felt the warm liquid running down your legs and realized that this was it, the night just went from dangerous to deadly if you didn't get help quickly. Your water just broke and you were by yourself in an enemy compound with no way to communicate with anyone outside.

You cringed as another contraction took over your body pressing a hand tightly under your swollen bump, "Oh baby not now, please not now." you brought the screens back up typing rapidly, taking the mainframe down meant potentially setting off a bunch of alarms which meant that you would be exposing yourself in the height of labor.

"Okay wait if this is built into the SHEILD mainframe I can get ahold of your other mommy...Oh God..." Another contraction took over, you slid to the floor, pulling out your phone you connected it to the computer sending an "SOS" to Nat hoping that she would get it in time.

"Okay baby, this is me and you until we get help, so I'm gonna need you to slow down a little bit." you ran a hand over your bump closing your eyes and leaning against the strong desk.

You moved quickly into the adjoining room moving into the corner, grimacing at the pain of your baby trying to make it's way into the world, "God you're as impatient as your mother...Nnngghh."

You heard the door to the office start to open and held your breath, hearing light footsteps, and saw as a light scanned the room.

"Y/N... detka are you in here?" you heard a whispering voice call out.

"Natasha?" you called, you listened as hurried footsteps moved towards you, the door swung open revealing your wife. As she looked in on you her worst fears coming true, she quickly got down in front of you, running a hand soothingly along your thigh.

"Y/N what's going on?"

"It-it's the baby...Nnghh, Natasha our baby is coming," you said and tears started to fall, you were a trained agent one of the best to ever step foot in SHIELD, you were an Avenger a super soldier, but in this moment you were scared out of your mind.

"Um, okay baby it's okay."

"M-my water broke...we need to get out of here"

"Okay, Y/N it'll all be okay, Maria is outside getting a hold of Steve she's calling in a rescue team, you know Bucky will be breaking down that door as soon as he finds out."

"I-I cannghh..." you gripped her hand throwing your head back gritting through a contraction, "I got you baby, just breathe."

"Nat this is happening now."

"Okay, then let's do this." she said as you slowly shook your head agreeing with her.

"Okay, my pants you gotta help me." you said pushing at the waistband, she quickly hooked her fingers in your pants pulling them off along with your panties and laying them to the side.

"Y/N, I can see it... I can see the head."

"Whaa- no I-I no this wasn't supposed to happen like this... Nat I can't do this... Hhahh, I can't do this."

"Y/N Romanoff yes you can, you are my wife, one of the strongest people I know I've never once seen you back down from a challenge or a threat and you protect the ones you love so fiercely, I never once doubted starting a family with you, so if anyone knows, I do. I know that you can do this."

"Woouuu...Nnghh." you tried but these contractions were getting closer and closer, "I-I need to push."

"Okay, follow your body." you pushed, your nails digging into Natasha's shoulder as she was bent down in between your legs, she was reassuring you while you fought through a few more contractions.

"Okay Y/N head is out, just a couple more and we meet our baby." you tried to answer but the contractions were too close, you pushed a couple more times before your wife was holding your newborn in her arms.

"It's a girl, we have a baby girl." you listened as her cries filled the room, you started feeling lightheaded.

"Natasha I don't feel so good."

"Y/N, I-Y/N..." she said noticing the blood, you were bleeding fast and she realized that you needed to get out of there asap.

She heard as the door to the office crashed in, "Y/N! Natasha!" you heard Bucky yell out, he moved around the room and stopped outside the door hearing your newborn daughter's cries, he opened it coming in.

"Is that?"

"Yes." Natasha said tears in her eyes, and he quickly realized how dire the situation was.

"Bucky, she, the blood..."

"Okay let's go I got her." He quickly picked you up making sure you were covered and started out the door. Natasha saw the screens still live and hit the execute button, running our behind Bucky with your baby in her arms.

46 hours later and the mission had been executed, you were finally awake and safely at your home holding your baby girl, Natasha was next to you holding you both in her arms, you had minor hemorrhaging after the birth but luckily had some of the best doctors around, meaning you made it out almost completely unscathed and with a perfectly healthy baby girl. Though you and Nat quickly agreed that next time there would be no last-minute missions so close to your due date.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

Can we have more about The Awful digital hospital?

[ slams papers on desk ] i'm so glad you asked !

this au's still admittedly a huge work in progress and there's not really a lot down - though to be fair i'm not really that much of an au person . i take a million years to finish them shfsf

also fun fact that gooseworx made music for the awful hospital so this au was fated to happe

anyways the awful digital hospital is ... kind of a crossover but also Not ?? it's more like it's own thing that combines both elements of both medias , so no character is a one-on-one swap and there will be a lot of differing elements . nonetheless it's kind of hard to do this without spoiling the webcomic which i still highly recommend to read - one of the only medias that made me cry and laugh out loud lol

dolly's our favorite shrimp who , after being admitted into the hospital for an eye injury , has a son to save . kind of our most mentally stable ragatha because she doesn't have this thing called ' being trapped in a digital hell for years ' . still burdened with the voices though

2. rabbit is one of the other patients in the hospital that . may or may not have killed so much of the staff - which is why there's oddly so few of them . has been trapped in the hospital for years , which did a number on his morals .

of course being a digital space the said staff Can come back by rebuilding their code but still it's pretty odd this guy would unexistentialize people

3. here's the hospital staff . they were ... kind of decent at their jobs ? but [ SOMETHING ] leaked into the mainframe so everything's falling apart now . while some of the staff ( read : the nurses ) are friendlier than others they still will pose a threat if you are not in your room .

here's the only ones whose designs i have down . i do know that jax's a veterinarian , zooble's a surgeon , and kinger's a psychologist

4. zooble can also make tiny little zoobles with their zoobox . they generally help out with the surgery though there's one that escaped and became dolly's companion .

5. loo is the manager of a candy factory that totally does not use humans as its main ingredient . very friendly at first glance but if you're flesh and bones you're thrown in the sugar grinder . scramble was unwillingly taken in to become the cashier for the candy shop but oh well at least they're not being murdered .

there's a bunch more but i'm letting everything here cook first ... ! still happy to talk about this thing though i like thinking about my two fixations

[hanihazeljade]

Smuggled Goods

Tim and Bruce has a deal they frequently make, especially when Alfred is not around.

When Tim became more a frequent face in the manor, he started sleeping on the guest room and also get up and make himself respectable in the next 5 hours. But he is a child that needs 8 hours of sleep so in the morning, and he was already looking like a sickly victorian child and he doesn't want look like worst than that.

Caffeine is a solution in that problem but Alfred forbid Tim to have coffee as it can be detrimental to the growth of Tim. Tim appreciate the sentiment but he needs something to wake his soul up.

That is where Bruce comes in.

Bruce is an adult that Alfred makes at least three cups of coffee every day and Tim can't have a half a cup!

But with Tim's 54 slides of PowerPoint Presentation and also maybe a little gaslighting, he strike a deal with Bruce.

So every morning, Bruce lets Tim to sipped from his mug when Tim wants to. Bruce might get a unpleasant glare from Alfred but Bruce is still drowsy enough that he doesn't notice the glare.

And it's been like that since Tim was Robin. And now that he is somewhat an "adult", Alfred already be giving him a mug of coffee, but the deal has become a habit.

Bruce doesn't mind it when Tim just suddenly swooped in to sipped in his mug as long as Tim doesn't take his coffee.

Tim already finished his coffee and he stride to Bruce that was on the mainframe computer to type everyone's report. Bruce was sipping his coffee when Tim grabbed Bruce's write to guide the coffee to his mouth.

"Why this coffee taste like chocolate?" Tim said as he sipped the coffee

"Tim, it is chocolate." Bruce said, "Go to sleep."

"Hmm.." Tim just hummed, the coffee is really not doing it's job on making him awake and he needs to be awake, he rested his head to Bruce's shoulder to closed his eyes for a minute and maybe he will be awake after five minutes of closing his eyes.

He didn't open his eyes after five minutes, he already fall asleep standing while resting his had on Bruce's shoulder.

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

Just read the latest chapter and I must say I do believe everyone deserves a break, and by that I mean why not just let them relax like if they were all actors. Maybe have Abel be what he wants from the 4th wall ask so there isn't any tension, it's just a fun non-canon event to wind down.

BREATHER

A RACEWAY AU ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

"CUT!! Good job everyone, that's a wrap for today." The Author closed her notes for episode 13 of The Amazing Digital Raceway TV series.

As the set crew turned on the overhead lights to start cleaning, Seth tossed his newly lit cigarette and coughed. "Ugh...how much longer am I going to have to pretend to like these things?"

Pomni unzipped her tracksuit to the waist, took off the top half and tied the sleeves around her waist. The tracksuits were hot under the stage lights, so she was much more comfortable in her black tank top underneath. "You know you don't actually have to smoke those, right? They'll edit it in post."

"I'm a method actor. I can't work with this unless it's actually lit."

"...then don't inhale. Really, this is a you problem."

"meh, meh, meh. Shut up." He grabbed her jester hat and shoved it down over her eyes.

"Reeeeal professional." Caine walked up, still covered in electrical burn makeup. "You staying in character or something?" He handed a bottle of water to Pomni.

"Like I said, method." Seth dug around in his pockets for items to give back to the prop department. As he searched, a phone rang in his pants pocket.

Pomni gaped. "You had a cellphone on you the whole time!? AND IT WAS ON!? You could have ruined the scene!"

Seth took out his modern flip phone, ignoring Pomni, and answered it with a smile. "Hey, baby. Yeah, just finished up." He started walking away, paying no mind to Pomni or Caine. "Have you heard back from the Author about your audition? Yeah, I told her if she needed me to have a love interest, I would prefer it be you."

Pomni rolled her eyes. "I can't believe that's guy's your brother."

Caine raised an eyebrow. "He's not."

"But he looks just like you."

"I know, but we never knew each other before the casting call. Wild coincidence." Caine finished his water. "I was wondering...after we finish up here, would you like to join me for drinks? I know this really nice pub."

Pomni smirked. "Now who's method acting?"

Caine chuckled, blushing under his makeup. "Nah...no acting. Just, I think... I don't know...I've felt some chemistry here. I'd be very interested in getting to know you outside of work."

Pomni smiled sincerely. "I'd like that."

~

Gummigoo grunted as the makeup assistant took out the bright blue contacts that covered his whole eye. "These bloody things are awful." There was some relief with the eye wash, but not as much as he'd like.

"Sorry you have to deal with that." Abel said as he glanced over the script draft for the next episode. "But it looks like you're going to be wearing them for a while. Uh, good news, you're getting a costume change at least. Says here you wear a black tracksuit. Don't know why the Author waited an entire episode for the wardrobe change. Seems like an afterthought. I would've changed the moment I reincarnated."

Gummigoo shrugged. "Maybe the Author is taking details like that slower. I mean, think about it. You've supposedly been stuck in the walls for 15 or so years and you jump into the mainframe head first. Did you expect to know how to do things from the inside right away? Your character has never done that before. He doesn't know how to be 'god'."

"eh....I guess you're right." Abel tucked the script under his arm and saw Ragatha walking by with Jax. "Oh hey, you two alright? That was some intense stunt work today."

"I'm fine, dear. Don't you worry. Jax, however is-" Ragatha was cut off by Jax hurling into the barf bag. "...not doing so good."

Jax groaned, "The world is spinning in the wrong direction."

"And you said you could do your own stunts." Ragatha patted Jax on the back. "I'm taking you to the on-site medic for some help. You need to sit down. See you later Abel, Gummigoo." She waved to her co-stars and escorted Jax away.

"Crikey, I'd hate to be him right now." Gummigoo shook his head.

"Yeah...so, anyway, I also wanted to ask: HOW have you been able to hide your Australian accent the entire time you're me? You sound so different." Abel wondered.

Gummigoo laughed. "Lots of practice and American movies."

~

Kinger was a little sore from today. The crashes were a bit more intense than originally intended. But, without complaint, he made his way to wardrobe to change, where he came across Loo. "Oh, hello, Loo. Did you have fun today?"

Loo pouted, "No...I didn't even have a line this episode. I feel like I've been on the story less and less. My character feels so...useless."

Kinger sat next to her. "We don't know what's coming next. I'm sure the Author will figure something out. She's one of the most passionate directors I've ever worked with, and I've been doing this for a long time."

Loo sniffed and wiped her face. "I think she should just kill off my character and let me go home. I'm not needed here."

"Hey," Kinger said gently, taking her hand. "Yes, you are. Every character is important, even the background ones. They flesh out the story and give the audience different perspectives on character struggles throughout the plot."

"What about Bubble? They left after episode 12, and I haven't seen them-"

"Bubble's on hiatus. They had to be written out for a bit. Nothing to do with how useful they are. Don't compare your performance to the others. The sooner you stop doing that, the better off you'll be in this industry."

"...okay..."

"You're young, beautiful, talented and hard working. You'll go far, I just know it." Kinger gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks." Loo wasn't fully convinced, but she was grateful Kinger was trying.

~

"What do you mean you haven't heard back!?" Gangle screeched angrily into her phone at her agent. "I am a Shakespearean trained actor! I have a repertoire longer than all these other actors combined!! Well, maybe not Kinger, BUT STILL!! How have you come up with nothing!? You have 48 hours to find me a new offer or you're FIRED!!"

Gangle almost threw her phone. She couldn't believe it. Years of training and child acting and this backwater TV show was all she had for work. She could do SO much better than this. She DESERVED better than this.

She dialed a new number with tears in her eyes. "...mom? The agent you got me is useless! I'm still stuck with the TV show! I-...yes, it's popular or whatever, BUT I'M NOT THE MAIN STAR! I auditioned for the lead role and I got side-charactered! It's not fair!!" Gangle whined and cried, pulling the bow out of her hair in frustration.

~

Zooble was about to leave for the day, but was flagged down by the Author. "Hey, what's up?"

"A lot, Zooble." The Author sighed. "I need to touch base with you about your role in the next episode. Have you seen makeup and wardrobe about-"

"Oh, yeah, I have. They got the latex molds done. My new look should be done by time you're ready to film my scenes."

"Excellent. Best news I've heard all week."

"You look like you could use a drink." Zooble half joked.

"I really could, but I can't. I have too many projects that require my attention. My producers for Unseen are breathing down my neck for the next script. Not to mention co-witing for the Time Capsule and Harlequin shows. Sometimes I have time for spinoff scripts. Those are fun." The Author runs her hand through her hair.

"Wow. Maybe you're taking on too many projects at once? Take a break. Have a drink."

"....maybe. Once I get-" The Author's phone rang. "Excuse me." She stepped away and answered. "Hello?"

A smooth male voice came though. "I read the script. The answer's yes."

The Author could dance in place. "That's wonderful! I'll have the other drafts sent your way. Thank you for calling me yourself. Your agent was rather uppity about letting me even offer the role to you."

The man chuckled lightly. "He's a card. No, I like this a lot. You can count me in. In fact, I'd very much like to discuss my role in person. Are you available tonight?"

The Author almost dropped her stuff. "I am now."

[darkopsiian]

Do you like warhammer 40k?

yes. look at my OC's. tw // mentions of body horror and abuse //

i should probably mention as well; i've roleplayed all these characters lol.

This is Nockzius she's my tech priest oc who's a 20 year old biologis prodigy who has worked on Astartes, Xenos, and reversed dissected several daemons. She's a diagnosed psychopath but currently in an emotional down-spiral, because she found out that since she's a blank the Omnissiah cannot hear her. She's been beaten, betrayed, backstabbed and manipulated so many times. So because of this and several other instances of parental neglect from her father, she's completely engulfed in her own hatred and ravenous anger. Nockzius has gotten so close to insanity many times and I'm not surprised she hasn't completely lost it yet due to all the stress that she has to put up with.

This is Heilgard, she is my sister of silence. She was a training SoS during the Remembrancer program back in the 29th Millennium. During the program they had been attacked by a creature later discovered to be a slaugth, towards the very end of the campaign she had sacrificed her own life to fight and later spiritually consume the minor deity. Later on rejected taking the oath of silence as upon discovering the origins of the Slaugth she had assisted in forming a group of members who's sole purpose was to study the Warp. They are an outcasted group and would be considered heretics by law. Her blank radius is so powerful that she purposefully isolates herself in attempts to protect others from getting their soul annihilated just by being around her. Cats however are safe, and thus she surrounds herself with many of them. She is also my only character who canonically has autism.

This is the P.A., or the Pantheon as it calls itself. The Pantheon was a Super AI that used to operate an entire forge of a planet that made and sold thermo-weapons to nearby Noble Houses. But the planet later collapsed and became swarmed with techno barbarians, xenos, and rabid AI drones. The P.A. became dislodged from it's mainframe and had integrated itself into one of its many worker drones. This worker drone, carrying the consciousness of the Pantheon, had found and integrated itself into the body of a traveling noble named Alicia. The P.A. now wearing the flesh body of Alicia travels with a band of techno barbarians and attempting to sway them into getting her old body back. Alicia's body has long expired but her soul hasn't departed, so it's not uncommon for the voice box to occasionally malfunction and start talking like a human.

This is Oylmortiz my Mephirit Deathmark. Oyl had a severe irreversible malfunction during her transfusion, so regardless of how many times she dies and comes back, she can never speak. Her voice is permanently broken and she communicates primary through static chatter or beeping. Thankfully due to her job exclusively being a hitman, talking isn't that important. Her personal deathmark brothers have gotten very used to this and are able to understand her just fine. She is very loyal to her house and just wants to do her job. Despite all this she has the highest charisma stat out of all of my characters, I don't know how this happened. But the mute necron deathmark has the highest fellowship and it's the best ongoing joke I've had.

This is Hollowtye he's a BITCH. This mother fucking lord of CRINGE has decided halloween is his birthday and now it just IS. He's a greater daemon of hysteria and feeds off wide-spread chaos, which is why he enjoys halloween so much. But he's a fucking IDIOT. He has the highest intelligence score sure but that doesn't mean ANYTHING, HE'S A FUCKING IDIOT LMAO. He is NEVER invited to any Tzeentchian parties because they all despise him. He's a clown who fucks up the smallest plan yet somehow still comes out the winner, which is why tzeentch loves him so much but why everyone else hates him.

T̷͙̳͛͜h̷̠͂̊̚͜ǐ̸̥̬̼̫̿̓s̷͉̙̱̣̓̌̎ ̷̢͔͙̘͔̅̔͑̐ǐ̶͍͎̓s̷̗̐ ̶̺̥̊R̸̲̀̄̂͗̆͜ĕ̴͚́h̷̦̺̼̙̜́v̸̖̠͙̇͊̊̚ë̸̢̞̱̟̠́̅̒͐̅n̶͕͔̗͚͋͂̽i̸̝̰̝̇̓̓̈͜r̶̘̽̊̾̓́ ̸̳̹̪̽͘T̵͕̻̘͇̦́͂̑͝͝ȟ̴̝͍̙̬̭͘i̸̥͎̫̖͗̅͘s̸͍̻̙̯̺̃̐̇̀̾ ̶̮̺̤̻̖͛͌i̸̩͝s̵̺̀̉͜ ̷̨̹͇͆̃́͘̕W̸͚͉̬̱͋̅͊̍̂h̷͕̓̀i̵̬̩͍͛̔̚t̶̻̂̅͛̊e̴͈̳̿̕̕͠b̷͕͛̅a̴̦̜͐͒͋͘͘ȑ̸̰̱̜̜̪͒͋̑k̴̛̟̓̃͒͝ ̵̧̙̪̲̣̐͛͋͘T̶̪̳̟̎͐͜h̸̡̝̺̰̖͗̈́̑́i̷̠̯̱͓͊̋́̓̒s̵̰͈̃͌ ̵̧̈́͊͆͝į̷̟̺͇̘̀̿̆̈́͛s̵̻͛͒͛̆ ̴̧͍̰̃̆̍͘ͅT̸̞͈̪͇̓͜͝h̸̩͔̗̖͕͐̓͑͊ė̵̞̗͙͊́͝ ̷͖̤̎͜Ŗ̸̹͔̝̘̓ì̸̜͍̿ͅv̵̧̞͚̉͌e̶̝͆̐͂̑r̴̘͇̬̭͐̐̋m̴͈̜̮̅ā̷̩̖̺͝n̴͙͓̈́͂ ̵̪̍͜T̸̛̜̹̲̬̋͆̓̅h̷̹̔͌̕͜i̸̹̚s̴̺̼̰͠ ̵̢̥̠͉̖̏̾̓i̵̛̬̱̱͉̘̋s̷̯̟̙̋̈́͜ ̴̛͎͙̈̆T̶̘̮̹̦̹̓̈́h̸̩̭͇͚̑̂e̸̝͉̠̝̓ ̴̝̅͒̔̆B̵̮̼͚̉̐̄́é̷̡̨̤̩̃͗͆ã̶͇͍̈͘s̸̘͗̿ͅt̸̙̺͌͐̐̂̌ ̷̫̺͆͆̈͐́o̵̜̝̠̅f̵̢̧̠̲͉̀̇̈́̈̋ ̶̯̒́̏̈́͝ͅM̸͈̘͔̖̗̆̀̕ḛ̶͔͓̩͑̀r̸͚̈́̂̈́̄͜ć̶̠͙̜̿́͆̇ũ̴̜͇̌r̶̡̖̹̓̍̌̊y̶̼̖͝͝ ̸̡͍̤̐̚͘ṫ̷̛̟̭̘̄̽̈h̵͕͔͛̎e̵̗̤̗̍ͅ ̴̬̳̗̫͍̑v̴̡̯̘̝̫͊͋̾o̷͔͍̩͓͋̐͠i̶̪̤̕c̶͎̹͔̯̚e̶̠͖̅̄̕ş̷̔ ̷̫͑́̅̐͘t̴͚̯̍̋͗̍̉h̵̗̗̗͉̍͜e̶̛͕̩̱̎̈́̒̚y̸̥̹̳͆ ̶͚͂̀̈̒ẅ̵̪̗́̀̓̔̈́o̵̳͈̫͊́̓̄̚n̴̝̻͇̑̄͂͝͠'̸̧̾͋̆ț̸̈̓̓͘̕ ̷̛̫̬̃͘š̵̭̽̑t̵͎̻͙͙͉̅́̈́͐͝ŏ̷̜̎̚p̸̝̰̿̃̆͐̀

[bleachbleachbleach]

Senkaimon Travel Procedures

"There are many benefits to being a marine biologist."

Even though 99.99% of interdimensional travel is baked into normal Gotei procedures that shinigami use every single day, I feel like the Gotei has probably made it difficult for no other reason than it's not anyone's job to make it not difficult.

Like, it'd be nice if you could receive your Living World Assignment and then, at 7AM on launch day, show up at a senkaimon and go through it. Cake! (Or--well, you know what I mean, this being Soul Society.)

But I feel like this line from my work’s website about there being "many benefits to using a travel management system" exists because our previous travel management system was so bad it felt like it should be regulated by the state as a form of gambling. I see no reason why the Gotei's version would NOT be like this. So:

You cannot, in fact, simply show up and walk through a senkaimon, on the date the Gotei itself told you you would need to do so. You need to go to the physical Travel Management Office, which is run by like two dudes from the Kidou Corps.

You will give them your deployment summons, which they will cross-reference with the copy they may or may not have received. (You need to time your trip to the Travel Management Office such that you have enough time to make your arrangements, but the mail also has enough time to make it through the entire Seireitei postal system.)

Despite the fact that this paperwork is handled entirely analog, the next part of this process involves a giant mainframe like the ones they have at the 12th. It prints data matrices that only these two Travel Management Office Kidou Corps guys can translate into dates, times, and--most importantly--prices.

Yes, you have to pay to use the Senkaimon. Well, not you personally. Your Division does. But you will at some point have to submit your receipts to your finance officer along with your other qualified expenses and it's a whole thing.

Also you had to submit a budget for your own mission that the Gotei is telling you to go on, but you had to base those prices on Death.Net's info, which is not the same info as these Travel Management Guys have.

By the time they've translated and you've selected, the mainframe prints out another matrix. Cue more translating, and more selecting, because the senkaimon time/date you've chosen is now a completely different price, well above what was originally printed. It's also at a different time, and a different day... (+/- 2-17 hours).

Expect to go through this several times, choosing time/date/price packages completely at random because you know that by the time they come back for second confirmation they'll be different. This is the gambling part of your trip to the Travel Management Office (you set aside the whole afternoon, right? You told your 10th Seat where you were going?).

The constantly shifting data is because despite being the "refined" way to travel to the Living World and back, senkaimon travel is still fairly complex, and the ability to travel (or how much energy it takes, hence the cost) is dependent upon... who knows. Solar flares. Whimsy. The stoichiometry of souls. How many people are on duty at the Kidou Corps. Obama. Bitcoin.

Speak of "and back"!!! You need to arrange that, too! If you miss your date, imagine doing all of this. But via denreishinki, instead of in person. Imagine.

Those fancy trips where it seems like captains/VCs just jump through a senkaimon? It's because instead of arranging a particular "flight" they just bought out every single opportunity within a block. This is hideously, hideously expensive. But: 1) Sometimes it's subsidized by the Central 46, if the circumstance is dire enough (but it's a reimbursement, not an advance. So, fill out that paperwork when you get back, if you don't die!). 2) This can be paid for with personal funds if it's in excess of the division budget. What else are they gonna do with all that money, right?

Even this doesn't mean there will be an instantly available senkaimon portal to avail oneself of, so sometimes after spending 7 million kan to buy out a senkaimon block you still have to wait a bit behind the doors in that little receiving room space. Yeah.

It's possible to have someone else go to the Travel Management Office and make your arrangements for you, if you have better things to be doing. But a lot of Captains/VCs actually still go themselves, either for security clearance reasons (you can't outsource your travel plans if you're on a top-secret mission lmao), or because they're private and don't want people handling their business. This means if you're the two guys who work at the Office, it's a pretty cushy gig if you're into meeting celebrities (or what passes for them in this place).

The only downside is that they're almost universally in a rush and fucking angry that they're at the Travel Management Office.

As they say, never meet your heroes!

[angelsdean]

no but heaven literally IS a simulation. everyone’s heaven is just a simulation of their best memories. and later we see ash “hack” heaven’s mainframe. we’ve seen angels (particularly arch angels) over and over use simulation as a technique for messing with people and / or keeping them contained. gabriel creates elaborate illusions and pocket worlds. zachariah (not an archangel but still) created the it’s a terrible life illusion AND endverse. lucifer gets people to trust him by appearing as the illusion of their loved ones. and michael...michael trapped dean in his own mind with a simulation of his “dream job” owning a bar. keeping him trapped in his own mind like people in heaven are stuck in their memories. even how they treat cas and try to rewire him, they’re hacking into his memories and deleting what they don’t want. anyways, heaven’s whole thing is illusion and simulations. illusions of peace and happiness. so......that  ending, huh? 

[sheifflucashood]

starter (tower life )

Lucas Hood was new to the tower and their way of life. He knew he had to do his job, so he decided to look at the setup of their system. With the help of Job, he wanted to keep the tower safe from harm. Job found a lot of weakness in their computer mainframe and fixed it so it wouldn't be hacked. As Hood made his way around the other part of the tower, there wasn't anyone around. It was oldy quiet.

he wasn't used to the quiet something was gonna happen and he needed to be ready

[spectrechosts]

512

A signalis fanfic I wrote at the start of the year. I remember being unhappy with it when I posted it on Cohost, but reading it back now I think it's cute. Strange.

Landvermessungs-/Schiff-Techniker Replika 512 is good at her job.

The Penrose-512 is in excellent condition. Nearly 700 cycles have passed since their launch, with minimal incident.

She inspects her storage unit. The mainframe access terminal. The reactor. The flight controls. The cryogenics unit.

All are in order. She is good at her job.

She relays this to her gestalt officer, and-

"Oh, Elster? Would you sit for a bit?"

She freezes in the doorway. Her duties are fulfilled, she can go back to her unit and sleep until the next cycle, when she will run through all her checks again.

"Of course, Officer Yeong."

Officer Yeong began speaking with her outside of the mission parameters, some fifty cycles ago.

She is not good at speaking with Officer Yeong outside the mission parameters.

"Just Ariane is fine." She says as she pats the chair next to her. "I'm having trouble picking a movie to watch, could you pick?"

"…Sure." LSTR-512 says, taking the offered seat. Officer Yeong has selected three tapes, and she points to the second without examining them.

"Ooh, good choice." Officer Yeong says, getting up to insert the tape. The replika tries to quietly dismiss herself, before-

"You aren't staying?" Officer Yeong asks, pouting slightly.

"I-"

"Don't you want to see if we like what you picked?"

'We', the gestalt asks, as if she watches movies. As if she hadn't picked randomly.

But she sits back down.

Forty minutes later Officer Yeong pauses the movie to make a cup of tea. This takes her six minutes, ample time for LSTR-512 to return to her unit and sleep for the cycle.

"Good, you're still here." She says, when she returns with her tea. "I was worried you weren't enjoying the movie."

"It's fine." LSTR-512 says, and Officer Yeong quirks her lips just slightly.

"Yeah?" She asks, a certain hint of amusement in her tone, and LSTR-512 isn't sure what's so amusing about a movie just being fine.

"Yes?" She responds, and Officer Yeong silently unpauses the movie, but she keeps looking at her out of the corner of her eye and smiling that tiny amused smile.

She takes a sip of her tea, and when she places it down and sets her hand on the table she lets it just barely overlap with LSTR-512's. Just the slightest brush of fingers, pleasantly warm from the teacup.

"Would you like to watch another, once this one is over?"

She nods rapidly, oxidant blood rushing to her cheeks.

Officer Yeong's hand doesn't move for the rest of the movie.

"What kind of movies do you like, Elster?" Officer Yeong asks, poring over boxes of tapes.

LSTR-512 has no idea what kind of movies she likes, because this will be the second movie she has ever seen, but the shadow of a memory that isn't hers tells her that-

"I like horror movies."

"Really?" Officer Yeong asks her, eyes gleaming. "I do too, but it's so hard to find any good ones, let me see…"

It takes ten minutes for the gestalt to find a horror movie she deems acceptable, and another twelve after that for LSTR-512 to discover that she does not like horror movies, and she doesn't know why she said that she did.

Seven minutes after that she jumps at a scare and reflexively cowers into Officer Yeong, who holds her and strokes her hair and makes that scrap of a memory go we're supposed to be on the other end of this, but close enough.

"Relax, I've got you." She murmurs into her, and LSTR-512 bristles because she isn't supposed to feel this way or watch movies or have phantom memories that make her think she can flirt when she can't.

She is supposed to go through her checklist, report her findings, and go to sleep.

Persona degradation at this early stage of the mission would be catastrophic.

"Do you want me to shut it off?" Officer Yeong asks, and LSTR-512 peeks at the screen and quickly hides in her embrace again.

"N-No." She says, and Officer Yeong scoffs.

"Feels like you might want me to shut it off, Elster."

"No!" She insists. "You're enjoying it, I can tough it out."

"I can finish the movie on my own, if you want."

"No!" She insists again. She would rather be afraid in Off- In Ariane's arms than calm and alone. "Just… Just keep holding me."

"Sure." Ariane says.

She keeps holding her long after the movie ends.

[helluvahotelfan]

Thank you for contacting VoxTek, how may I help you?

Hello! My name is Jenn, and I currently work for VoxTek in their research and development department.

How you might ask? Well, when I first arrived I had a pleasant conversation with Vox and he was kind enough to offer me a job at his company in exchange for my soul - which is a small price to pay if you ask me. Others tried to convince me I had done something wrong, but considering all that’s happened, that has proven not to be the case.

Eventually, I developed some wolf features. I can’t imagine how else Hell will change me, but only time will tell.

Jenn’s story so far:

Jenn sells her soul to Vox

Jenn’s employment contract

Jenn drunk texts her boss

Vox calls Jenn to his office

Jenn speaks with Zestial pt 1, pt 2

Jenn gets her soul back

Jenn now has wolf features

Zoe lets Vox know that Jenn’s sick

Jenn and Zoe get attacked

Jenn lets Vox know about the incident at the apartment

Vox’s Vengeance aka the creation of Jeffie

Jenn meets Jeffie

Jenn and Vox have breakfast

Jenn’s new contract

Jenn has tea with Zestial

Events while Vox was in the mainframe:

Jenn talks with Zoe about what happened

Jenn sends Zestial a letter

Jenn discovers her powers

Jenn acquires a soul

Jenn gets help from Zestial

Another sleepless night

A gift arrives

Jenn visits Zestial

Jenn receives a visitor

Vox is out of the mainframe:

Jenn finds out about the 666 News broadcast

Vox visits Jenn

Jenn gets a new pet

Jenn speaks with Alastor

Jenn speaks with Angel

Intruder in the apartment

Zoe visits Jenn

Vox finds out about Jenn's acquiring a soul

A visit with a witch

Second soul acquired

Jenn shows Vox what she and the R&D team came up with

Jenn asks Alastor for help

Other Events:

Saving Nessie

Lutual Statements:

1, 2

Hi!

My name is actually Jenn. When I first interacted with Vox, I didn’t think the whole OC thing would blow up the way it did, so *shrugs*. I had originally intended for this blog to be keeping HH/HB content I liked in one spot, but then I got really into the roleplays.

Anyway, she/her, 34, working mom and wife. I can get a bit busy, and on Wednesday nights it’s my dedicated game night with the hubs and our friend, so my replies aren’t as frequent as other nights.

[callmearcturus]

Stumbles in covered in dust to pass you a note that says "Arc please your analysis of the strange priesthood (your words)/odd mysticism (mine) of the IMF in Dead Reckoning, I need it urgently"

(It is such an integral part of the movie and its just one hell of a lore drop and I also have Thoughts about it and how it makes So much sense for Ethan's MILF era but you first you first)

bless you and all your endeavours

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MISSION IMPOSSIBLE FRANCHISE

I want to talk about the evolution of the IMF. Because one of the things that always kind of confused me about it was what it actually was. Is it another three-letter agency or is it a task force inside the CIA or... is it something else entirely?

IMO the answer changes over the course of the movies. In MI1, there is a concrete institution, the mainframe for the IMF is inside Langley, thus it seems to be part of the CIA. And it's kind of the villain of the movie honestly; the IMF mole hunt gets Ethan's team killed and almost gets him killed because he can't turn to the very agency/group/force that he's supposed to be working for to get assistance.

This idea of a group that is very rigid is continued/heightened in MI2 and MI3. The IMF misleads and lies to Ethan. They are still be bad guys. In MI2, Swanbeck uses Ethan to manipulate Nyah without cluing him in and is upset that Ethan didn't bring back the deadly super-virus for them to have. In MI3, the entire IMF just feels like the FBI in structure, all the visual signifiers casting it as a discount FBI. And that's echoed in the way the IMF handles its agents, the rigidity of the structure, the oversight, the centrality of the headquarters-- it all points to the IMF being a weird 9 to 5 govt job until someone goes on a mission.

There is a hierarchy, there is a director and assistant director and mission handler and tech team and all this shit, right.

Then we reach the McQuarrie Trilogy-cum-Quadrilogy, and things begin to change.

In Ghost Protocol, there is a feeling that the agency (if that's what the IMF even is) is more... amorphous. It's made clear there are safehouses and caches just shoved in various corners of the world. There are mentions of a headquarters (specifically, that it doesn't exist anymore) but when its time to get a new mission, Ethan hands them out from fuckign Seattle, and then walks off into the smoke to his next one. After Benji and Carter have their disastrous mission that sets off the plot, they don't circle up at HQ in the same way that happens in MI3, they are just directed to go grab Ethan, and clearly they find a place to grab some gear beforehand. The IMF is decentralized.

Then oh fucking boy, Rogue Nation. The CIA absorbs the IMF's assets and all we see is the CIA's HQ, not any central location of the IMF itself. Even in the intro when Brandt is monitoring the team going after the package on the plane, he's clearly in some shipping containers-turned-monitoring office. And Ethan going rogue survives by picking over the abandoned remnants of older safehouses.

Another interesting pivot happens in RN. Ethan is explicitly the functional leader of the IMF by example. There is no new secretary to give orders and hasn't been for years, there is no director, the closest thing we get to a hierarchy is Brandt who could allegedly "authorize" things but the agents just.... dodge him by not looping him in.

The idea of a structured organization is fully jettisoned in favor of the modern IMF, which mostly seems to be a lot of people under the radar working together to share information and execute missions.

Emotionally, Ethan is the leader of this new type of IMF, and we are in the movie that truly sets off on the idea that Ethan's ethos is that... he can't handle casualties. It's the blunt object used to hurt him, the way Lane murders the IMF plant in front of him, and his expression of haunted shock is vivid and clear.

All the way back in MI1, Ethan stopped Krieger from killing a bystander, telling him they didn't leave a body count. And by RN, that's become the bedrock of the IMF, the idea that the lives of the many are never more important than the few, and the IMF agents will destroy themselves in the name of getting everyone out alive. There are no acceptable losses.

This is bad, frankly. It is a very bad weakness for a super secret spy to have. But it is TEXTUALLY the entire point of Fallout, that Ethan can't let Luther die. In RN, he couldn't let Benji die. He couldn't let that random French cop die. Over and over, Ethan is given a choice between "save a ton of people" and "save one person" and keeps picking both, and it hurts him every time. It is unreasonable and demands so much from him.

And I have been wondering what that was building to, and Dead Reckoning lays it out.

The IMF as a formal institution doesn't exist anymore. There is no director, there's no hierarchy. What we see of a possible HQ is not the IMF, its everyone else in the intelligence community. As Kittridge explains, the IMF is a mail drop where they "leave word" and hope someone inside the group gets it and takes care of it. There is no oversight because each agent is basically a self-contained satellite.

AKA the way Ethan has found he works best. For every. single. fucking. movie. the IMF has been a hindrance at best and The Bad Guy at worst.

When we meet Ethan in Dead Reckoning, he is a man standing in an old building with sturdy walls and high ceilings. He initiates a new member and tells them they made the right Choice. It is the reassurance of an elder member to a novice.

Because I think... Ethan has essentially guided the IMF to this. How the fuck does anyone survive when there is no hierarchy, there is this creed of Save Everyone Yes Everyone, how do they do that?

Well. Everyone in the IMF lives by simple rules. Any IMF agent looks to another and says "your life will always mean more to me than my own." And the details don't matter. There is no exception to this.

The reason Ethan is alive is because his life means that much to his team, and their lives mean that much to him, so they survive by prioritizing each other in a way that borders on irrational.

This is where I think we get into the weird priesthood/odd mysticism of the IMF. They are a self-selecting group of people fanatically devoted to the preservation of everyone, and are skilled enough to back it up. There is a level of altruistic devotion there that's absent from the other agencies. Hell, Kittridge is back and when we catch up with him, he's fucking trying to buy the key to the fuckign Entity! Once again the CIA is evil, shock of shocks.

In a franchise where the CIA is always evil and the IMF As An Organization isn't better, the only moral choice seems to be to opt-into caring radically about everyone. It's the only counterpoint possible.

I think its significant that in Dead Reckoning, with this new evolution of the IMF, we only see Ethan and the team in old buildings. They are fading remnants. They can't pass on the responsibility to family, so they keep watch for others who have what it takes. They are a small, dwindling group, and they are the only people that can destroy the Entity.

Punct and I have talked about how Ethan defeated the Syndicate by infecting them with humanity basically; through Ethan's influence, Lane becomes vicious and petty in a way he'd like to deny, but he is motivated by his connection to Ethan more than his ideals. Similarly, I think Ethan and his ilk have infected the IMF with this strange solemn duty, and act as guiding stewards. It's an ideal that will die, but until it does, they will keep saving everyone they can, because no one else will.