#tat: paperclip

[troubleandtans]

them

[backalleygraffiti]

Tattoos (All to be done at Black Serum in SF) (Don’t want any tats on my right side. Anything that doesn’t fit on left arm [want to leave the scars on the underside of my left forearm untouched] will go on left leg, anything that doesn’t fit on left arm or left leg will go down the left side of my upper back, descending down, to be designed by artist)

Flag with Freak written on it [Blackwork]

Grave with “Better Off” written on it [Blackwork]

House broken down the center [Blackwork]

Umbrella with rain only underneath under a blistering sun [Black and Grey]

A stick coming out of mud with a fern for context [Black and Grey]

A candle burning at both ends [Blackwork]

A bag of sand, labeled sand, leaking sand out one side, with, “You wish you had the certainty of an hourglass.” written above [Black and Grey]

A ghost holding a sign that reads: “See through, but didn’t see it through.” [Blackwork]

Don’t [Stop Sign], only ever [Yield Sign] [Blackwork]

A fork stuck in the center of a multilane highway [Black and Grey]

Porygon, the Pokémon, original version [Black and Grey]

Witch Mark Daisy Wheel (want this one on my left hand, with other witch ward runes on my fingers) [Blackwork]

A snail racing a tortoise [Black and Grey]

A paperclip vs a safety pin [Black and Grey]

A unicorn stallion with a large unicorn cock, without looking too obscenely perverse (want this one on my left ass cheek) [Black and Grey]

A chinstrap penguin [Black and Grey]

The New California Republic bear from Fallout New Vegas, but a polar bear version [Black and Grey]

A skunk spraying pigpen the Peanuts character [Black and Grey]

A bandaid with “I’m the broken bone” written underneath [Black and Grey]

Gameboy style and framed magikarp with “are you sure you want to swap this magikarp?” Written and pictured in the style of the Blue version gameboy game [Blackwork]

A ladder with all the bottom rungs broken [Blackwork]

A conch shell [Black and Grey]

A cute cow under a ghost sheet saying, “if they could see all of us, then they’d be scared!” [Blackwork]

A devil crying (the Radiohead drawing) [Black and Grey]

Best Friends Forever in the center of the recycling emblem [Blackwork]

Genderfluid symbol female and male [Blackwork]

“Just cause you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there.” -There There, Radiohead [Blackwork]

“It’s too late” in binary [Blackwork]

Courage the cowardly dog looking at peace [Black and Grey]

“Tell your sister, you were right.” Next to Luke and Anakin’s lightsaber hilts, from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, and A New Hope respectively [Black and Grey]

Elder Scrolls Skyrim’s written dragon language for mortal (Joor), blood (Sos), and flesh (Slen) written in the symbols together, curving around my arm or my leg [Blackwork]

An asshole on my left elbow [Blackwork]

A blackberry (the fruit) [Black and Grey]

Tool’s original 1992 Opiate’s six armed priest alien man, not the white smokey new six armed man on the new Opiate, so I can dress up like the fan from Hooker with a Penis (really want this one outside of left leg, below knee, above ankle) [Black and Grey]

A Jesus fish with bones and x’s for eyes (want this one under the Tool one) [Blackwork]

Ghost In The Shell Triple Manga Slide of Major Motoko Kusanagi saying “Bye-Bye, Terrorist…” “If You’ve got a problem with this world, make sure you stay in the one you’re going to - HELL.” (This one has to be on my back) [Black and Grey]

Spider-Man in his Big Time Stealth Suit (have to pick which comic strip this one is going to be, and this one is going below the manga one on my back, wrapped around to my rib section) [Black and Grey]

Neck Piece

“Circa 1992” written somewhere on the left side of the neck, size, font, and styling to be designed by artist [Blackwork]

Orchid on left side of neck, Dendrobium phalaenopsis hybrid, realistic [Black and Grey]

Aedes mosquito behind left ear, realistic [Black and Grey]

Piercings (To be done at Body Modifications in SF)

00G earrings (rosewood plugs)

Three helix titanium rings on the left ear, sizing help by piercer

Two titanium rings on the left eyebrow, sizing help by piercer

One titanium ring labret lip piercing, sizing help by piercer

Two titanium nipple rings, sizing help by piercer

Cock piercing, through the center of the top of the head, where the head meets the shaft, titanium bar, sizing help by piercer

[bisexualstokes-archive]

i’m low-key thinking about getting a tattoo related to nick stokes but idk what

[bodycountgame]

Sorry but I don’t know if someone else asked this. However my question is if any of the r/os had tattoos?

please enjoy the comprehensive guide to BC ink/piercings:

Avery: Has her ears pierced, and a small and embarrassing (to her) tattoo that she will never mention or intentionally reveal hahaha

Atticus: Has a nose ring and a bunch of tattoos, but none that are visible if he’s wearing a suit (though he would love to get his hands/neck one, so maybs if he changes job). He has a big bitey Great White Shark face on one side of his ribs, a little duckling on one leg, a splitty circle like from Arrival, a paperclip. There are a bunch of others idk I haven’t settled on them all but he has a substantial percentage of his body covered hahaha.

Florrie: Has her ears pierced, a nose ring, a tongue piercing and would love to get tattoos but has never been able to settle on anything for long enough.

Nyra: Has her ears pierced, used to have her nose pierced but let it close up. She has a few tattoos, in places that aren’t typically visible. Has a thistle on one side, two hands holding each other’s wrists (if that makes sense??) and a word at the top of one thigh and a quote under one boob. She’ll go to great lengths to keep them hidden from her parents hahaha.

Rowan: Has her ears and one nipple pierced. No tats, tho.

Syd: I cannot settle on their piercings because I am hideously inconsistent. I’m pretty sure they have a septum ring, a bunch of ear piercings, and they used to have their hips pierced but had to take them out for work. Tats wise, they have a snake that winds around one shoulder, a wolf on one thigh and a lit match on the inside of one bicep. They’re banned from getting any more tattoos by their agent lmao

Vinh: Has one tattoo on the inside of one bicep based around the Death tarot card. Has a few ear piercings – I definitely picture them with a conch ring and a scaffold but also others.

Just a fairly basic ear-piercing situation

Adegoke, Ellis, Imogen

0 piercings or tattoos

Arthur, Charlie, Griffin

[tattingasinlace]

Shuttle Tatting for Beginners

I learned from Frivole’s tatting videos, which are here: [link]

The materials that are usually used are:

Two tatting shuttles. These can be purchased online, though some craft stores may sell them. The aforementioned Frivole sometimes sells them on her etsy, which is here: [link]

Size 20 crochet cotton. Usually bought from the Lizbeth brand, which can be found here: [link].

A small crochet hook for joining. Some shuttles have hooks on them, but a crochet hook will serve the same purpose. I use a 1mm hook for size 20 thread. These can be found at most craft stores.

If you can’t afford or don’t want to by these materials, the substitutions I used when learning were:

Metal barrette hairclips as shuttles. Wrap the thread around the top portion like you would a bobin, and go to town.

Embroidery floss as thread. It requires a bit more tension and produces a slightly larger project, but it works fundamentally the same.

A paperclip bent into a hook for joining. I recommend trying to make the smallest hook you can and using pliers.

Tatting patterns use various symbols and sometimes don’t include a key, so instructions on pattern reading can be found here: [link to part one] [link to part two]

Happy tatting!

[impala-dreamer]

Negan. Paperclip.

MOTHER OF INVENTION

Negan x Reader

855 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Bondage. Clamping. 

A/N: Don’t try me. I will win. ;)

My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon~ My Original Works on Amazon

“Ya know what the biggest problem with the end of the world is? No me sex shops.” Negan’s lips curled into a sexy smile, baring fang-like white teeth as his dark eyes bore into yours. “But you know what they say about necessity, don’t you?” He tugged on the silk tie in his hands, locking your right wrist into place on the wall. He had you strung up and naked, hanging off of hooks he’d had drilled into your bedroom walls, making it feel all the more like a dungeon. “Do you know?” he asked, leaning in, taking a deep, slow breath of your heat and anticipatory fear. 

You swallowed hard, your body already weak with lust; his exhale making you shiver as it passed over your lips. “It’s the...mother of invention?”

Negan beamed. “Hot damn, she is fucking smart, too!” He leaned back and away, his body curving in an almost unnatural way as he cheered for you. A little “whoop!” fell from his ruddy lips as he looked you over. “I knew I made good choices, but darlin’ you are confirming every single one of them right now.” He took a step forward and cupped your bare tits in both hands, bouncing them, checking their weight. “Just fucking perfect.” 

Your nipples responded to his touch, hardening under his rough thumbs and sending jolts of arousal straight down into your cunt. You bit back a moan and your shoulders curved inwards. 

“Oh, you like that.” He pinched both at once and you cried out, your knees buckling just a bit. “You really fucking like that.”

Breathing quickly, you nodded. “Yes. Feels so good.” 

Negan’s touch pushed between his front teeth, pink and wet. “I bet you wish I could just clamp you up top to bottom and leave you here dripping.” 

A shiver took you over. “Yes...fuck.” 

“But as I said, no more sex shops.” Negan clicked his teeth in mock disappointment and then backed away, leaving your skin to chill in his absence. 

Hanging off the wall, you watched as he sauntered to your desk, jeans slung low on his trim hips, white tee barely hiding anything for all its tightness. 

“We have to make due,” he said, opening your drawer and rummaging with two fingers, “with what we got.”

Your heart was racing as he slowly came back to you, a flash of silver in his right hand. “Mhm.” 

A quick smile flashed over his face as Negan pushed up against you. “And ain’t that fun…” 

“Y-yes.”

He’d already tied you up using all sorts of string and ties, and now he was set to clamp your tits with the shining paperclips that he pushed between his teeth. Your blood sang with arousal and your stomach tightened. 

“Hold still,” he laughed, backing up so that he could grope your breasts once more. He worked carefully, spreading the paperclip with his teeth as he twisted your left nipple, and the pinch was harder than you expected. 

“Fuck!” Your cunt quivered as the pain settled into a dull, delicious ache, and Negan moved on to the right side. The paperclip snapped and you grit your teeth as the pleasure and pain mixed inside of you. 

Negan hummed and stared at you as if he were eyeing a porterhouse steak. “Mmm. Bet that hurts like a son of a bitch, don’t it?” 

“Mhm.” Your eyes opened to find him staring, one more clip dangling from his lips. “Oh, god…”

“Yep.” His eyebrows wiggled and he took the clip between two fingers and dropped his hand down to your bare pussy. 

Pleasure clouded your brain for a long moment as Negan fingered your cunt, slowly rubbing his left hand between your thighs, and dipping inside every few passes to excite you. When your clit began to throb, he squeezed it tight between two fingers and pushed the paperclip around it. He removed his hand and you screamed as the clip closed tight around your sensitive bud. 

“Holy shit! Fuck!” You could feel the arousal dripping from your pussy, and so could Negan. He teased your entrance with his fingertips and grinned as your hot mess collected in his cupped palm. 

“Goddamn, sweetheart! This fucking pussy is wet as fuck!” 

Your head was rolling as he fucked you on three fingers, roughly shoving them inside, his wrist grazing your pulsing clit again and again. “Please!” 

“Nah.” Negan sucked his teeth and pulled away, turning back to the desk. “I think I’m gonna leave you here for a while, let you drain a bit.” 

“W-what?” 

The devil was in his eyes as he returned to you with a bowl from your desk, just recently emptied of stale, dry corn flakes. He set it down on the floor and kicked it until it was directly beneath you, ready to catch anything that fell from your slick cunt. 

“I’ll be back later to check on you. I wanna see that bowl full.” He winked and gave your tits a hard slap before spinning away, proud of his handiwork and interested to see what would come of your predicament...

2020 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @cheritzie @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansotherotherblog @deansgirl215 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetylerbackup @dontshootmespence @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @hannahindie @herbologystudent252 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus @ladyjenny19 @laxe-from-outer-space @mariekoukie6661 @missjenniferb @msjava1972 @mylovelydame21 @mysticmaxie @pilaxia @sandlee44 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @typicalweirdbookworm 

[fibrofox]

Paperclip emoji (I don't have the spoons to search for it)

📎Do you have/want any tattoos/piercings?

I have my ear lobes done, my belly button, and my left tragus (lil piece of cartilage that sticks out to sorta cover the ear canal)

I don't have any tats but I want to get the outline of the mountains where Jared proposed to me

Thank you!

Ask meme

[ashfae]

Point of View

Prompt: Autobiographical 1st person

I turn the tuning peg such a small amount, ten degrees out of three hundred and sixty, pulling the string more taut. My semi-calloused thumb plucks the A string. It sounds true, but my ears are untuned now, years out of practice, and this isn’t my instrument. Not yet.

But I already love it, the dark wood balanced on my knee, nylon digging into my insufficiently calloused left fingers as they press near the frets, strings singing when I stroke them with a pick. This can be mine. I will make it mine.

I pluck the C string, then the A, recognize the plaintive tone of the minor third. Maybe I haven’t lost this language in the past decade of learning new words, words for disabilities and teething children and the organization parents and patients need. Maybe I can relearn.

Prompt: Fictional 1st person, someone in an unpleasant job

It’s not much of a day, just cold and rainy enough to keep away all but the regulars, plus a few tourists too stubborn to waste the time they’ve got. You can always tell those, the mulish expressions and cheap as chips poncos bought from some tat shop on the Mile, because they thought the stories about how it never stops raining here were exagerrated. They never tip.

The regulars tip. One of our favorites is here, the short lass who always orders a grande one shot mocha no whip please. She never forgets the please, or the thank you, or to call us by name. She laughs at our jokes, even Darren’s, and his are abyssmal. In return we laugh back every time she tells us how glad she is it’s Monday, even though we’ve all heard it fifty times. After all, she tips.

IT’s slow though, and the heavy murk of coffee has already plugged my nostrils and the space behind my eyebrows, or maybe that’s the humidity. Fuck, if I were a tourist, I wouldn’t be here. I’d go somewhere warm.

Prompt: 2nd person, beach, pants, young girl

The sand is hot, so hot, and you have to try different ways of walking. On your toes first, tippy-toe, then your heels, which makes you laugh because of th way they slide down and leave holes in the sand, soft and sliding and hothothot and it’s fun but it doesn’t really work.

Sides of your feet next, curving them out, then back to tip toes. That’s easiest, hop hop hop on points. You look up but the wet sand, the cool sand, is still far away, a whole thirty feet left to hop or maybe three hundred feet, and then you stop on something not hot, not sand.

Bend down, ignore the scorch, have a look. It’s dingy blue fabric, stained in all sorts of ways. Pants. Boy pants. Probably boy pants. They smell like seawater and hot sand. You pick them up, add them to your shell bucket. If you can find the right stick, then they’ll make a decent flag.

Random intermittent thought: The queen sat sewing by the ebony windowsill, to make use of the light. As she sewed, she pricked her finger with the needle. Three drops of red blood fell onto the snow-white silk, and the queen thought, “Oh, bugger.”

Prompt: Rewright the autobiographical 1st person into 3rd person

She turns the peg minutely, her attention on the string rather than the peg, hearing the note change. The ukelele is balanced on her knee, supported by an old lanyard attached to string that wraps under the body of the instrument and winds up tied to a paperclip hooked on the sound hole. It buzzes a little as she plays the string again, plucks other strings to hear the intervals. With a caution born of unfamiliarity (because it couldn’t be fear, who could be intimidated by a ukelele?), she fits her fingers between the frets, then grimaces; her ring finger, broken in a childhood accident, bends inward, must be awkwardly held or the note won’t sound right. But the third time she attempts it there’s no buzz or fuzz or twang, and she beams.

Prompt: 3rd person subjective, a couple are in a restauraint being served by a waiter, AKA dammit I was so close to not writing fanfic in class this week

His favourite enigmas are lunching today, at their usual table. The rules of the establishment discourage familiarity beyond a certain warm politeness, but he can smile as he offers the wine list, and does.

Usually the man in the black suit--they are always dressed the same, every week, one in white and the other in black--will give the list a brief flance and toss it back on the table as he makes his selection, apparently at random. The other gentleman takes more time. Louis can’t begrudge it, not when he’s inevitably given a beatific smile and an, “If you’d be so kind” along with the order. The black suit’s mouth always quirks up at that, whatever his mood is otherwise, clearly charmed by this old-fashioned courtesy whether he likes it or not.

There are bets on among the staff as to whether or not the pair are a couple. There’s an ease of long familiarity between them, and the sorts of small nitpicking statements that waiters inevitably hears between married couples. The McKenzies do nothing but argue over their meals, and they’ve come every Saturday without fail for forty years. Perhaps fighting in private bores them.

But with these two it’s less clear. For one thing, they never touch, neither casually nor deliberately, and they lack a certain frisson that acknowledged couples have. But neither of them ever looks bored, no matter how deliberately provocative black suit is (which he is, he seems to get a kick out of being a bit of a nusiance), or how slow to finish his meals white suit is (which he definitely is, a starter and a main and two desserts and whatever black suit hasn’t finished eating). Amos the piano player swears they’re madly in love but each think the other one is straight, and will deliberately pick the most over-the-top Cole Porter arrangements to play for them in the hopes that eventually they’ll clue up, because he has two hundred quid riding on an eventual proposal happening in the restautant (there’s a separate betting pool on whether white or black will be doing the proposing, and one stubborn busboy betting on both at once). Elizabeth the seating hostess orders everyone to leave them alone because she thinks they’re adorable.

Louis just wonders why they’ve ordered champagne today. That’s unprecedented. Maybe he should’ve bet along with the busboy.

[redvsvblue]

Two Halves Of My Rainbow (4/?)

Hey-o. Still doing that Jerevinwood soulmate AU, this one with hints of casual Alfreyan in it.  

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, AO3 

Ryan’s familiar with guns. From training, from field duty, from the one pistol he owns to the grenade launchers they confiscate from unwieldy crew members, from rat-tat-tat-tat ammo and the thick, heavy booms of rockets, the resulting debris that skitters across the crime scenes.

He’s familiar with cars. From his own, from the FIB ones, from high-speed chases down motorways to road blockades, from cumbersome vans with too much weight on the back wheels and armoured supercars taken away to be stripped for parts, or freed of their extra cocaine baggage.

Ryan’s not quite familiar with being on the wrong side of it all.

And he’s definitely not that familiar with motorbikes.

But Alfredo apparently trusted him enough for this, swinging a leg behind Ryan on the bike and yelling at him to go as sirens whoops behind them and Ryan guns the engine, following a path he knows like the back of his hand, weaving through traffic and it’s not panic building in his throat for once but rather adrenaline, making his skin tingle and his hands sweat in the leather gloves. He can hear Alfredo shooting behind him, the pop and burst of tyres as Alfredo clears their tail – there’s bullets whizzing by them as well, tearing into the road either side of them and ricocheting off of surrounding vehicles, terrifying and thrilling all at once and Ryan can’t help but smile to himself under his helmet.

It wasn’t even a big hit, just a quick pit-stop at Ammu-Nation to liberate them of some extra guns, and here Ryan is, being chased by the same people Geoff and Michael are working with, running for his life and loving it more than he ever thought he would.

He’s clumsy on the turns, oversteering and wobbling a bit but Alfredo doesn’t seem concerned, just holds onto him tighter and whoops when they’re free of the cops, wrapping both his arms around Ryan and his gun knocking against Ryan’s hip.

Ryan is so out of his depth.

He loves it.

-- 

Ryan learns quickly. Picks up on all the little subtleties and amasses more guns and runs more jobs with Alfredo – simple two-people heists, gas stations and drug deals and the sort of shit that garners him a reputation.

He picks out Vagabond one late night over dinner with Alfredo, hooking sticky noodles around his chopsticks and toying with the cube of chicken as they talk.  

And Vagabond he becomes.

Ryan’s killed people before, sure, in the line of duty, but like this it’s almost better – no red tape and no paperwork and nothing but surety when he fires a bullet between the eyes of the guy running the local sex slavery ring the FIB have been trying to break up for months and bam, over. He’ll leave the paperwork to his former colleagues.

He hasn’t heard a fucking word about any new crime duo. He figures Gavin and Jeremy are laying low, but in the meantime Ryan’s plunged himself into a whole new lifestyle and he’s floundering a little, a constant struggle between fight and flee and life and death.

He abandons his house. Leaves a cryptic goodbye at Geoff’s door with apologies for Jack and Michael in there as well and takes up residence in a shitty little flat on the edges of Vespucci and tries not to regret.

The panic creeps in sometimes, when he’s alone and sitting on the flimsy balcony and trying to rationalise – he can’t rationalise – what, he left his stable job and stable income and his friends to go run off and become a criminal in the city he once protected? All because of some stupid fucking soulmates who gave him colour and didn’t even know him? All because of – of –

And that’s the part when Ryan’s brain shuts down and the world is big and scary and terrifying and he buries his face in his hands to muffle himself and the only little shred of hope he can use to remind himself where he is and what he’s doing is that he knows what colour the creeping vines on his balcony railing are.  

-- 

“Ryan?” Alfredo asks while they’re unloading guns in his office, dumping them unceremoniously on the desk and uncaring of the paperwork scattered over the surface.

“Yeah?” Ryan replies distractedly, fixing the precarious position of a few pistols.

“Can you hand me that blue paperclip?”

“Sure.” Without thinking, Ryan reaches for the blue plastic paperclip in the bowl and offers it up – and pauses, and looks up, and sees Alfredo’s eyes narrowed a little, his nose scrunched up as he scrutinises him.

“Lucky guess?” Ryan jokes, but it falls flat.

“I knew there was something different,” Alfredo says. “You’ve met them, haven’t you?”

Ryan carefully declines to answer, swallowing thickly and dropping the paperclip to shove his hands in his jacket pockets.

“When?” Alfredo asks. “Last time I saw you – the Dewsbury bust-up. You were still...”

Ryan still doesn’t answer.

“It’s why you left the agency, isn’t it?” Alfredo continues, softer.

“Thanks for all the help, ‘Fredo,” Ryan says quietly, and turns to go – Alfredo catches him around the arm and Ryan turns his head away, blinking back something he doesn’t want to name. Shame, fear, embarrassment, regret. That age-old panic that never fades away no matter how much he does.

“Who are they?” Alfredo asks.

“I...don’t know,” Ryan admits. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me - ”

“It’s not important,” Ryan says gruffly, yanking his arm away. Alfredo grunts and claps a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, stepping around to stand beside him.

“I think it’s pretty fucking important, Agent,” Alfredo spits. “You’re different.”

“I’m a criminal.”

“Not just like that. I remember working with you before.”

“Alfredo - ”

“Who’s so important you gave up your life for them?”

Ryan – can’t answer that. Doesn’t know how to. Doesn’t even know where the fuck to begin – two idiots playing computer games irresponsibly late, two idiots laughing over some stupid inside joke Ryan wasn’t even in on, two fucking idiots getting themselves hurt and patching each other up, two stupid motherfucking idiots that crawled their stupid way into Ryan’s life and into Ryan’s mind and filled in the rest of the world like a colouring book for him and he thinks somewhat moronically that if he ever met them, the I love you would roll off his tongue easier than the hello, I’m Ryan, who are you? and isn’t that just ridiculous.

“Like I said,” Ryan says, chews up the words and spits them out much harsher than the first time. “I don’t know.”

Alfredo studies him for a moment more and then releases him, stepping back to let Ryan move freely.

“I hope they’re worth it,” he says.

I hope so, too, Ryan thinks but doesn’t say. Leaves with a gruff see you tomorrow and knocks against the doorframe on the way out.

-- 

Despite the panic, despite the unknown, despite the residual regret still crawling up Ryan’s spine and sometimes blooming across his consciousness in fitful sleep and trembling fingers, he pushes on. Learns and fights and learns some more, takes hard hits and harder falls – Alfredo’s there to catch him, and he’s there to catch him right back, almost literally most of the time.

And Ryan doesn’t lose his morals. No he fucking doesn’t – he sticks to hurting only those who deserve it, refuses any outside offers that require anything else. Alfredo’s, thankfully, on the same lines as him, tells him what bosses to avoid and what types of deals to decline, who’s good for what and who’s scum of the earth. 

Not as many people as Ryan thought, honestly.

But he sticks with Alfredo and he grows in leaps and bounds, and his turns on the bike aren’t so clumsy anymore and he’s a quicker draw on the guns – much quicker on the SMGs now, and pretty decent on sniper rifles thanks to Alfredo’s training.

Right now, during a quiet evening after a busy day, he’s on cleaning duty, leaning against the railing of his shitty little balcony and wiping a rag over his rifle – Alfredo tugs open his fridge inside and signs something – Ryan responds with a quick gesture and Alfredo nods, shooting him a thumbs up before he reaches in.

Alfredo collapses beside Ryan a minute later, cracking open a soda and passing it over as he pops the tab on his own, clinking it with a laugh against Ryan’s before drinking. The sunset stripes over Alfredo’s face in a pleasant glow, softening all his edges and bringing out the gentlest sort of warmth Ryan could only ever imagine just months ago.

“Hey, gimme a taste of that,” Alfredo asks, jerking his chin towards Ryan’s can. Ryan starts to offer it up but Alfredo leans in to catch his lips instead, grinning at Ryan’s little huff of laughter.

“Coulda just asked,” Ryan mumbles. Alfredo lightly smacks his hand and Ryan turns it palm-up to feel what Alfredo’s about to say. 

Shut up, Alfredo signs.

Shutting up, Ryan replies.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Tuesday 3rd November 2020

Tosh* on a Tuesday

♦ outside links are in bold type and are not affiliated to this blog 

Hoorah, the delivery of oil’s arrived. Just thought I’d share the joy, special joy as the weather lady on TV said it’s going to be very cold tonight and judging on what it’s like already, she’s right.

Hooves of Fire are still visiting us. It was ten to five yesterday afternoon, so far too dark to get a photo but it was this one, or one very like it - it has a darker coat than our most regular visitor, I mean usually darker and not just because of winter coats coming in. It must come quite often though as it had a good look into the kitchen and seemed quite relaxed even when there was a sudden noise outside. It ate as much as it wanted and ambled off at leisure.

If you haven’t read or cottoned on why Hooves of Fire, that’s OH’s nickname for them because of how their hooves churn up the grass. I think he got the name from this

I’m making an exception for my ‘Keep the C word firmly in December’ Rule in order to expand the explanation. Along with all the things I don’t like that I blog about, you can now include Crackers. I actually ditched them a few years back in favour of a small table gift chosen especially for each recipient, but back in the days when I adhered to tradition, I found a set of crackers one year with a Popping Sprouts game inside and thought that the resulting fun would be merrier than collecting yet another set of elf sized screwdrivers, giant paperclip, tiny playing cards or hideous key ring. Is it just me, or does it not matter what massively inflated price you pay, crackers are always lovely unopened but filled with unwanted tat** that gets left behind and only ends up in your kitchen ‘junk’ drawer?

In addition to the Sprouts we’ve got Father Christmases in racing cars from a previous year and of course the Reindeer too...just for some variety and the thrilling build up as to which of the options will be putting in an appearance. Oh the suspense, equalled only by the traditional wonderment of ‘Has he been?’

Well of course, this year, it’ll just be the two of us and no turkey. I might go mad and get all the crackers out. We can play with the lot and then have a grand finalé pitting the race winners against each other. Never let it be said we don’t know how to have fun in the country.

Talking of fun in the country, behold photos from Bateman’s that I haven’t posted before. I couldn’t get inside the garage and observe social distancing. There was a lady stood engrossed, but I’ve managed not to include her in the pics.

Rudyard Kipling’s Rolls Royce

by 1930 Kipling noted that the fun was going out of motoring; careless drivers and accidents were proliferating. As a non-driving passenger himself, he could see all the more clearly that the day of the pioneer motorists whom some had called 'maniacs' was over, and the day of the real maniacs was dawning

I wonder what he’d make of the roads today?

It’s said that Kipling eventually managed to secure the purchase of Bateman’s (after years of trying) because it was quite a remote property for the times, somewhat cut off. He was an early adopter of a motor car despite never learning to drive himself and that made his Estate all the more accessible to and from.

We’d find it very hard to manage without a car. The only bus service in our village is the dedicated school bus, although there is a train so we can get to the nearest large town, down to the coast or up to London within an hour. When we used to go out and about for work and for leisure, that was very handy indeed.

As I’ve been writing I was agog at two adult Great Spotted Woodpeckers having a spat. They were engaged in close contact and ended up tumbling through the leaves of the palm by the feeders. Still not disengaging they carried on the fight in mid air. It’s all settled down and they retired to respective feeders. A lovely looking female ...

and hard to tel here as it didn’t pose, but the other was a male.

Current GARDEN WATCH:

Not a single bird to be seen, but then M. Flambeau has just come creeping out of the flower bed.

GLOSSARY:

*Tosh - nonsense. I use the term here in the loosest and most self deprecating manner of course   😉

** Tat - cheap bits and bobs that you don’t even need, often beloved by children and possibly elderly relatives who are not very discerning

A poppy for remembrance in November (not my pic)

[theanthropist]

A Treatise on Morality

The Cooperative Advantage

Just based on the physical characteristics, alien biologists would easily dismiss humans. The only natural-born physical talent of humans is endurance running, useful in chasing down fast prey until they collapse from exhaustion, but not something that explains our status as the uncontested dominant lifeform on Earth. Even mentally we aren't that superior: raise a child without teachers, and you will get a dysfunctional animal. Octopuses manage to learn tool use on their own, something feral children are unable to do. A lone human is simply not made to survive in the wilderness.

Our mental capabilities flourish in groups, however. A child is taught and supported by their elders until she is old enough to do her part to help. Information and skills pass along from person to person, groups organize and coordinate to achieve what none could do alone, the victims of misfortune are helped, and they in turn help others. A tribe of Homo sapiens is a formidable force on the savannah. This seems at first blush to run counter to natural selection, in the usual narrative represented as fierce competition. Survival of the fittest. But nothing about the rules says you can't work with others. Ants, bees, dolphins and wolves show how cooperation can give an advantage to the individual. This bears a striking resemblance to what humans call morality.

Getting an advantage as an individual however doesn't explain true self-sacrifice, like giving your life for someone. This apparent conflict is resolved by the concept of the "selfish gene": if one of your genes makes you sacrifice yourself to save two of your siblings, or children, who also carry the gene, the gene gets an advantage, even if you personally don't. Drone ants are infertile, but evolutionarily successful, because they help their mother, the queen, to reproduce.

Making morality to be about evolution and self-interest might rub you the wrong way. Should we only do a kind act once we know how it helps us? Should we only sacrifice ourselves for blood relatives? No, of course not. Natural selection doesn't care, it doesn't judge. If you refuse to maximize your reproductive fitness, the only consequence is that your genes will be very slightly less common in the human population. Not much of a sacrifice. Your desire to be good is still just as authentic, even if it has roots in selfish natural processes.

Honor Among Thieves

While the advantage of cooperation explains why animals would act morally, it doesn't explain why animals or people would ever not act morally. Wolves and ants and humans fight with other members of their species constantly. This too, must bring some advantage. Predictably, theft, murder and rape are all desirable to the perpetrator. To capture this dynamic of when it is and is not desirable to act morally, we are going to play a little game. Or more like it, we are going to overanalyze a game.

You and your accomplice have been caught for a crime. The police only have enough evidence to put both of you in prison for a year, so your interrogator offers you a deal: snitch on your accomplice, they get five years and you go free. You quickly figure out that they were probably given the same deal, and if you both snitch, you're both getting around three years.

Should you snitch, or should you stay silent?

The mathematics are clear: if your buddy stays quiet, you should throw them under the bus. If they snitch, you should take them down with you. One should always snitch. Yet if you both snitch, you both get three years instead of one year. This is the problem known as prisoner's dilemma: in some situations, the win-win scenario is leaves both parties vulnerable to betrayal, and is thus unattainable.

Once you know what to look for, the abstract version of this game plays out everywhere. Parallels can be drawn to nuclear disarmament and climate change. A part of addiction can be seen as a prisoner's dilemma game between oneself now and oneself in the future. Even choosing whether to do dishes in a shared apartment can be modeled by the same mathematics.

Shooting for the win-win scenario can only be achieved if one can trust the other player to cooperate. To develop trust, one needs to know the other player, to play repeated games with them. This works the best if there multiple different repeat interactions with different other players. Kind of like in real life.

In this situation, if the win-win payout is big enough and there are enough cooperative other players, a strategy known as "tit-for-tat" dominates: start of cooperating, then mirror the other player. This ensures the player will only get fooled once before retaliating, while working together with anyone willing to cooperate. This is what we see with morality too: benefit of the doubt is moral when given once, and stupidity when given much more than that. When someone commits a heinous act, we punish them to disincentivize them or anyone else from committing such an act.

Morality is game theory instantiated on biology. Not all morality models the prisoner's dilemma, of course, games such as stag-hare (in which cooperation is better when others cooperate) and hawk-dove (in which cooperation is better when others betray you), or even wholly other abstract games with a similar structure can often be found. It all however follows the same principle.

Morality under this view is an absolute mathematical concept instantiated in the fuzzy real world. Often a cooperative choice in one game is a betrayal in another, and without a clear view of the payout matrices, moral problems can quickly become unsolvable. This is however only a question of imperfect knowledge, not moral subjectivity.

Hume's Guillotine

David Hume was a Scottish philosopher in the mid-1700s. He is my personal favourite philosopher. One of my favourite ideas from him is known as Hume's Guillotine, one of the most metal terms in philosophy.

Hume had observed that people of his time, when arguing for any standard of morality, often used premises about what is to argue what ought to be. Hume simply asked what they were doing, what logical warrant was there for such a leap. Modern philosophers, with a few exceptions, conceed that there is none. You can't just suddenly introduce a term in a logical argument that does not previously appear: otherwise you could introduce any term and wreck the structure of logic itself.

A way to make the term "ought" (everyone says "should" now, but the terminology is 300 years old, just go with it) make sense and be usable is to define it in terms of goal-oriented behaviour: you ought do X if doing X advances your goals. This founds the otherwise vague word in the empirical concepts of goals and ways to achieve them, while retaining the most important property of the word: if one is convinced they should do X, they also feel somewhat motivated to do X.

This definition has some consequences: if someone doesn't enjoy sushi, they ought not eat sushi, no matter how freaky you find their distaste. While this might seem reasonable, the same goes for enjoying murder: if one enjoys murder and doesn't care for the myriad of repercussions such an act would have, it makes no sense to say they shouldn't murder.

The concept of "ought" is thus separated from the concept of what is moral: morality, under this view, deals with objective empirical and mathematical facts, while what you ought do depends only on your goals. The general confusion between these two results from people having very similar goals, including that of acting morally; it is less difficult to see that a perfectly rational AI whose only goal in life is to make as many paperclips as possible can't be made to care about morality; that would interfere with making paperclips!

None of this means you shouldn't act morally even if you don't value morality for its own sake. The very reason morality evolved was that cooperation was advantageous to the individual. Being motivated by the threat of punishment is also a reason to stay in line. But if these don't motivate someone, you could just as well debate morality with a crocodile.

Conclusion

This moral philosophy has been hard-fought for me, and I do not know of many others who hold a similar view. I hope it works as a jumping off point for you, and as an antidote to both moral relativism and various supernatural theories of religion. As a philosopher I am merely a hobbyist, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Links:

Morality as Cooperation, a proper scientific paper on the scientific view on morality my position largely hinges on.

Evolution of Trust, a fun little game that explores the specifics of the game theory of morality.

Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy on Moral Naturalism, which has strongly inspired my views.

[pendles-is-friendles]

Are there any verses you want to work more on/see more of?

((Most of my non-bubble!verses need a ton of some form of work/development at the moment.  Trust!verse has more fics incoming to explain what happened to him while he was captured and Morty’s involvement and more things planned with Jasus-mun that I’m excited for.  The longtimefriends!verse I got going with Reyna’s also picking up and I can’t wait to see where it goes.))

((The split-offs from my old main!verse need varying amounts of work and plotting.  Sadly, the pay-off from my big arc that I had planned... just doesn’t work any more.  Both mun and muse just can’t really do anything with it.  I’m not going to ret-con it completely, but he is going to probably just finish mourning and move on which I’ll readily admit is a terrible, hack-of-a-writer ending.  But, there’s the saying of murder your darlings after all.))

((As for what I would like to do:  I low-key would like each verse to have its own plot.  Doesn’t have to be big or complicated or angsty, I would just like each to have its own flavour so I can put more in the blurb than “PendlesXso-and-so fun here!“ and have a little more to work from in replies.  I have some vague ideas for each [for instance, Pendles might let Reyna tat up his smooth spots because it’d look awesome. {he’s just going to resist the idea at first}][and yes, I’d draw a reference].  BUT, with how I work/write/plot, the only way to do that is to sit down and do asks/write threads/write fics/come up with more plot ideas/paperclips/starters to do it!))

[sueboohscorner]

#Timeless S1, Ep. 14-15 "The Lost Generation"/"Public Enemy No. 1" Recap/Review

"The Lost Generation"

"The Lost Generation" is another amazing episode and story builder as we reach the last couple of episodes of the season. 

 With Wyatt arrested and taken to a secret undercover blacksite, Lucy and Rufus still has to deal with Flynn as he travels back to Paris 1927 the day that Charles Lindbergh completed his trans-Atlantic flight, in this case almost did.  

 During this episode, Lucy gets a little understanding of what her dad tells her about Rittenhouse, that it's not only a legacy, it's in her blood. She threatens to take down it but he doesn't believe that she would, hell he even said that he said and did at the time he learned about Rittenhouse. 

 Just before the mission, Rufus learns about Lucy's dad, gets a bit upset, but they move on to the next mission along with a new solider ( I rather call it a new companion), Bam Bam (as Wyatt calls him). They go back sees that Flynn has been around and tat Lindbergh had crashed his plane. As they got word they bump into another famous face, Ernest Hemingway at the time a journalist and author of one book. I don't know about you, but I would probably enjoy having Hemingway as a life coach after this episode. 

 Another famous face was Josephine Baker, back then she was the Beyonce at that time which was the best description. They asked for her help in finding Lindbergh and soon later Bam Bam spotted Emma with Flynn's hitch-man along. Soon they followed them outside where then gunfire was exchange, hitting Bam Bam and dying. 

 Lucy, Rufus and Hemingway search for Lindbergh, they come to an abandoned house, as Hemingway asked for help (he was about to punk), Lucy looks around by herself and gets caught and taken to Flynn. There Flynn and Lucy talk: about Rittenhouse, her father and of course, Lindbergh. Lindbergh is one of Rittenhouse and Flynn wants some answers and Lucy offered a deal if she can get him to talk about them in exchange for his safety. Flynn agrees and hears the name Cheviot, as one of the members and soon went to meet him to have a chat about Rittenhouse. 

 Rufus and Hemingway had some nice scene together one of them Hemingway trying to spark up Rufus that got him motivated and found both Lucy and Lindbergh. But on their way out Emma was there and after Rufus gave her the option to either come along or let them through and not get shot; she let them through.    

 Meanwhile, while all of this was happening, Agent Christopher gets word that she is no long in command that the NSA has taken over. She goes to Wyatt about it and discuss why there are over a dozen of people just like that to come in and take over. It all made sense when it all connects to Rittenhouse. Christopher offers him a deal but Wyatt denies it but after she left, she leaves him with a paperclip to escape, which he did and soon meet with her, Lucy and Rufus back at their secret location (Warehouse).

   Just before the episode ended, Lucy talks with her mom about meeting her dad. She tells Lucy that she wouldn't have anything different knowing what a fine woman she has turned out, but also gives her a gift something to express her feelings when she's upset about something: which happens to be the journal that Flynn has been holding and getting his information. 

 I enjoyed this episode so much. The writing was strong and the cast from Spencer, Barrett and even Brandon Barash as Hemingway was amazing and so much fun to watch. Even Wersching was good and she only had a couple of scenes in the episode. As I said before I loved that scene with Rufus and Hemingway talk about fighting the good fight. It really made me want to do something bold that I never done before. Overall, I give this episode a 8.5/10.

   "Public Enemy No. 1"

The team is reunited and it just feels so so good (even though it was only about an episode since Wyatt left). 

 "Public Enemy No. 1" not only brings the team back together again, but gives us one hell of a cliffhanger that'll dive right into the season finale, that I'm sure we're all looking forward to. 

 With no success on capturing Flynn, Agent Neville orders Rufus and Lucy to go back to 1963 and take out Flynn's mother and this time they have no choice otherwise. So as they take off with another solider (terminator look-alike), they make and took out or knock out their solider companion, headed back to present day to meet with Wyatt and Christopher. There we learn that Rufus placed a temporary virus to the computer's mainframe back at the post so Mason and Rittenhouse couldn't find them. 

 Now, with a stolen time machine and not working with Rittenhouse, Wyatt suggested that they should go and save Lucy's sister. But as soon as they get ready to do so, Rufus gets word that Flynn jumped to 1931. Lucy doesn't want to go after Flynn but Wyatt tells her that they should take one problem at a time, stop Flynn from whatever he's doing and then go save her sister. 

 There Flynn meets with Al Capone and informs him about he would be put in jail on tax evasion. After the charges being dropped by the court, Capone grants Flynn with a favor: to meet with the mayor and ask about the Rittenhouse meeting. 

  After seeing Capone gone with Flynn, Lucy and gang heads to the one person that can stop Capone, Eliot Ness, who isn't happy. They talk at his place about Flynn and Capone and just before they plan to do something, Capone had a guy come and shoot the place up, killing Ness. So the one person now that Lucy and the gang can go to is the one person that knows Capone...his brother. 

 Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus meets with Richard Hart and asked him for help to take down his brother. After some convincing, they headed over there and it was a family reunion until it turned into an argument of betrayal after Hart tells him he's taken him in. Guns go up in the air three get shot, Capone, his hitch man and Rufus. 

 Lucy and Wyatt tend to Rufus, who was bleeding pretty badly. They get him up and drive back to the time machine. They get Rufus in his seat and set everything up but by the the time everything was a go, Rufus looses consciousness and we leave it there. 

 Other things: With Rufus' plan of diversion, Mason takes things to his own hands and place Jiya in holding after she had made contact with Rufus on a burner phone. As Mason tries to get things back up and spotted where Rufus is at, Jiya builds her own computer and takes out the system again. IT's the first time I've enjoyed watching Jiya this season. Also, Flynn gets word from Chicago Mayor William Hale Thompson about the next Rittenhouse meeting would be in 1954, for which that's where he'll be in the season finale. 

 This was just another amazing episode that had fun moments like Wyatt telling Rufus and Lucy to leave Ness' dead body behind because they didn't have no IDs and he's wearing button-fly jeans from the GAP. Trilling when Jiya and Mason butted heads, that gave me a coupe of chills. The writing was amazing once again and so was the acting from Spencer, Lanter, Barrett and even Goran Visnjic, who had an amazing first open scene at a church and talking to the priest about life and the possibilities to change it if it all matters in the end. Overall, I give this episode a 9/10.

 You can catch the season finale of Timeless tonight at 10/9c on NBC.