and the fbi dude


Don’t know if this made the tumblr rounds yet, but this dude got in trouble with the FBI after he sent the CIA anime porn and terrorist threats via twitter.

Ok ok but Maggie being like a stone cold bitch at work and everyone is kinda afraid of her. She’s women and a lesbian so she can’t afford to screw up and she’s serious all the time and everyone in the precinct see her as like the ice queen. She doesn’t take sexist shit and shes had more than a few run-ins with ‘good old boy’ cops for her coworkers to know she can have a temper. Basically Maggie’s attitude is just like when Maggie first meets Alex. She’s confrontational and cocky but shes also very private. And when all of the other cops see Maggie around this hot FBI agent they like freak out.

 "Dude that FBI chick just kissed the Sawyer’s cheek and Sawyer smiled?“ 

 "Ok I actually saw the ice queen giggle. No joke" 

 "Bro they were holding hands…… And it was kinda cute" 

“She called the FBI chick ‘sweetheart’?!?!?!?!?!”

I want Maggie being that bitch™ at work and everyone losing their minds when they see how soft she is with Alex!!!!!!

I just, I just fucking love the idea of Stiles building a new branch of the FBI. 

Like, he does his time in the trenches, he shuffles paperwork, he goes on missions, he takes down numerous bad guys. He’s a good, nay GREAT agent. But then something happens, someone of the supernatural evil persuasion comes on the scene and wants to take the world down. 

Stiles with all his supernatural knowledge goes to the director of the FBI and tells him, this is what he is and this is how we beat him. and because this has been going on for months Director Watsizname lets Stiles assemble a small task force to try his idea out. 

(Of fucking course Stiles reaches out to Derek to help, but I imagine the scene kind of like the one where Charles and Xavier try to get logan into the xmen and logan just goes ‘no’ and they leave him out of it.)

So Stiles gets like Argent and the Yukimauras, and beacon hills reunion am i right?

anyway… stiles and his task force work and get the guy, (there is an opposing task force also trying to get the guy, but they’re a human task force so they don’t know what they’re getting into.) and stiles and his little force of high school bffs gets the big bad and to reward him, Director Watsizmane gives him another case in colorado and Stiles gets a new partner and Stiles thinks it’s hilarious that he gets to roll around the country like fucking Sam and Dean Winchester to fix supernatural shit gone bad. 

That starts the construction of the Supernatural Affairs Division of the FBI (”Boss, our acronym can’t be FBI: SAD. that’s just… well.. sad…”) erm… the Supernatural Investigation Division? (”Now people will think my name is Sid or they’ll think of dying babies, do you want people to think of dying babies director?”) How about Department of Supernatural Affairs? FBI: DSA? Is that okay for you? (”DUDE!!! That is sooo much better!!!”)[Stiles goes around for days opening doors and yelling “FBI: DSA GET ON THE GROUND!!!” to his coworkers who have no idea what he is talking about]

the department is kept in the dark, theless people who know it exists the better. Stiles makes the code of the department” Nous protègons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protèger eux-měmes” for Allison. (and the fbi director and the president aren’t happy it’s french, they would prefer latin or something. but Stiles is firm that it needs to be french.)

The department grows slowly, only bringing in experienced agents who have already seen some questionable things while on missions. They work with Area 51 sometimes, other times they work with a supernatural version of liverpool. 

Soon, the DSA is big enough to warrant it’s own headquarters (”Stilinski, it’s not a secret lair” “Chief we have an airplane hanger mined into a mountain. It’s a secret lair,”) 

Derek, Stiles’ husband, helps out sometimes, but not too often, he’d rather stay at home and focus on his woodworking business or something.

and eventually, Stiles becomes the head of the DSA and he has a really cool office like Ice Cube’s in 22 Jump Street (as per his request (omg what a loser)). he’ll sit up in his office as he sees new kids, both human and supernatural, come into the secret lair for the first time and see how great it is. they stop many many supernatural attacks in america, but also worldwide. Derek brings him lunch sometimes.

this is his legacy, and when he retires, they put a bust of him in the hall of fbi fame and another in the DSA headquarters. 

Catching Up

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Dean smiled like a teenager as the Y/H/C head FBI agent approached he and Sam. 

“Dude,” Dean whispered, hitting Sam on the arm to get his attention. “Look at her,” he mumbled as a smile spread across her face the closer she got to them. 

“Y/N?” Sam asked, his arms spread wide, a goofy grin spreading across his face now too. 

“Sammy!” you greeted him, stretching up on your toes to throw your arms around his shoulder. “It’s been too long!” you sighed into him. 

The Winchesters were at your work. This couldn’t be good. You knew the case you and your team had been trailing felt off, but you had tried to convince yourself that it was just some sicko, not something supernatural

You pulled away from Sam and smiled at Dean. 

“Hey Bean,” you laughed, punching him in the shoulder. 

You had always had a crush on the elder Winchester, and seeing him with that beautiful smile on his face, staring dumbly at you was certainly doing things to you, even after all these years. 

Dean tossed his head back in laughter. 

“Man, no one has called me that in, in years,” he chuckled. “Pretty sure you’re the only one that has ever called me that, come to think of it,” he added. “’Mere,” he mumbled, grabbing you by the hip and pulling you close. “I deserve a hug too, right?” he teased as his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into him. 

You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, squeezing him to you and breathing in deeply. Your nostrils were filled with the smell of whiskey, soap, and leather. You sighed heavily as Dean squeezed you tighter. 

“Damn Dean,” you laughed, forcing yourself to push away from him as your heart started to race a little too quickly. “You’re all about those chick flick moments now, eh?” you smirked. 

“You’ve changed,” he commented, his eyes roaming you and coming back to meet your gaze. 

You smiled softly at him, your brows furrowing slightly. 

“I grew up, Bean. It was bound to happen,” you said with a wink. 

“You grew up good,” he commented, licking his lips. 

You felt yourself flush, heat settling in places they shouldn’t be, especially at work. 

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam scoffed.

“Anyway,” you laughed nervously. “Why the hell are you two here? If you’re here, it can’t be good,” you scoffed, looking around the office to make sure no one was listening. “This wasn’t just some sicko, huh?” you sighed, resigned. 

“Is it ever that easy, sweetheart?” Dean asked, using the nickname he reserved for women he was typically trying to pick up. You felt yourself flush again. 

“Believe it or not, sometimes it is.”

“When do you get off?” Dean asked, eyeing you carefully. 

“I’m gonna go check out the case files in your office,” Sam said, dismissing himself and slipping into your office behind you. 

“Whenever I can,” you chuckled, meeting his gaze. He smiled back at you, a devilish look crossing his face. “Bout’ an hour,” you answered, biting your lip nervously. 

Dean grabbed your hip and pulled you to him again, his face quickly approaching yours, his nose bumping yours as his lips hovered over your lips. 

“I want to take you out for a drink. Talk about the case. Catch up. A lot has changed in four years,” he mumbled, his lips barely connecting with yours before pulling away. He was testing the waters, asking for permission. 

“It has,” you breathed, your lips chasing his, connecting finally with his full lips. He sucked your bottom lip between his, his hand resting at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You felt him growl when your tongue flicked  out against his, and felt a surge of electricity course through you. 

“You sure you don’t get off for another hour?” Dean asked, breaking the kiss and pulling away from you. 

“I think I can duck out early,” you relented, looking around the office, stepping away from Dean and straightening your skirt. 

“Sammy, we’re gonna head out. I’m gonna catch Y/N up on what we know. Get her side of the story too,” Dean said, poking his head into your office. 

“Sure,” Sam answered, his head buried in the files. 

Dean placed a hand at the small of your back, ushering you toward the front door. He leaned over and whispered in your ear. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got some catching up to do before I catch you up on this case,” he growled, his lips grazing your neck. “So, we catching up at your place or my hotel?”

You stepped through the door and caught a glimpse of baby. She was still as beautiful as ever. He stepped up to the door and reached for the handle, but you shoved him against the door, pressing yourself firmly against him. 

“My place,” you answered, your lips connecting with his as your nails dug into his shirt, causing him to moan against your lips. 

“I think I remember the way,” Dean murmured, opening the door for you, watching you slide in gracefully. 

You took a deep breath as you watched Dean walk around to his door, his eyes not leaving yours. 

This wasn’t exactly how you expected your day to end. The case you were working drawing the Winchester’s attention, Dean taking an interest in you. Dean’s lips on yours, his hands pawing at you with need but here you were. 

As he slid into the seat, you scooted close to him, palming is growing erection softly. 

“Who says we gotta wait to catch up until we get to my place?” you teased, reaching to unbuckle his pants. 

“Shit,” Dean groaned, putting baby into gear and lurching forward as he pulled out of the parking lot. “A lot really has changed in four years, huh?” he growled. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this Dean. We’ve got a lot of catching up to you,” you whispered as you pulled him from his pants and stroked him lightly, causing his foot to press the gas a little too hard. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you fiercely before speeding up. “Well let’s get to catching up then,” he said, his hand sliding down your thigh and up under your skirt. 

This was definitely going to be one happy reunion. 

One Poster To Go, Please

I think I’m late with my second entry for the @txf-fic-chicks challenge? Or is the deadline tonight? Either way, I had to write it. 

Post-ep for “Chinga”. 

“So, uhm, if you want I could take you.” Scully raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“To the shop. For the poster.” Mulder explains, swiveling in his chair to point at it. Another pencil falls on his head with a soft plop. Scully bites the inside of her cheek, hard, to stop herself from laughing. She missed him; but obviously not as much as he missed her.

“We have work to do, Mulder.” She tells him in what she hopes is a commanding voice.

“Nah, look around you,” she doesn’t, “The office is impeccable and each and every report is filed.” Scully stares at him, unblinking.

“I’m serious,” Mulder assures her as another pencil falls on the desk, rolls away and lands on the floor. Mulder clears his throat and quickly rises from his desk chair. “Call Skinner if you don’t believe me,” his hand lands on his spot on her back and she can’t help the small sigh that escapes her lips when she feels his warmth there, “Now come on.” Mulder gently pushes at her and finally Scully gives in.

“I do want to believe.” Scully sighs and Mulder, grabbing his coat, stops for a moment to glance at her. She grins, knowing he has questions; what really happened on your vacation, Scully? Maybe she is going to tell him. Right now though she enjoys the vague teasing too much.  

“Well, then,” he swallows hard, “Let’s go.”

And they do.

The head shop is not a place Scully wants to set foot in. Ever. She steals a glance at Mulder, who doesn’t even think twice about entering. She’s right behind him when a wall of sweet, heavy scents hits her in the face and immediately makes her dizzy.

“You sure this is where you got the poster?” She asks him and he nods. What she really wants to ask him is why he went into this shop in the first place. Then again maybe she doesn’t want to know.

“FBI dude!” Scully crashes into Mulder’s back momentarily before he takes a few more steps forward. She can barely see anything thanks to Mulder’s large form, but she sees a moving shadow and a moment later, when Mulder steps aside, she is introduced to “Spooky Carl” if his name tag is to be believed.

“Oh,” he grins at her, revealing a set of slightly crooked, very yellow teeth, “Is this an FBI lady?”

“She sure is.” Mulder replies. “This is my partner, Dana Scully.” For a moment she is afraid he’s going to extend his hand, but he just nods at her. Relieved, she does the same and gives him a small smile.

“What do you need, FBI dude? Some-”

“No,” Mulder immediately interjects, “The poster. Do you still sell them?”

“I sell a lot of posters, dude.”

“The I Want To Believe one,” Mulder specifies. Spooky Carl narrows his eyes for a moment before they spring open in acknowledgment. He snips his fingers, which Scully notes with some disgust, are almost as yellowish as his teeth.

“I know the one, dude. Let me check in the back. Took them there a while ago. Be right back.” He wanders off and Scully breathes a sigh of relief.

“Great place, huh?” Mulder point to some paraphernalia on a low hanging rack, grinning like a school boy. Scully has no idea what someone would even do with a thing like this, whatever it is.

“Yeah, I can see why you frequent this place.”

“Hey, I only came here because you wanted to get a poster for your – what was his name?”


“Jack, right.” Mulder seems to chew on the name, trying it out for taste. Judging by his face, he doesn’t like it very much. Or really at all.

“You know, he might misinterpret you sending him this.” Mulder tells her, his gaze averted.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a powerful message, Scully.” She feels a tickle in her throat; she swallows the need to laugh.

“He might think it's… you know.”

“No, Mulder, I actually don’t know. What are you talking about?”

“Let me explain it to you,” he turns to her, holding a small alien toy in his hand. What is this place, Scully wonders, before she loses track of her own thoughts. Mulder’s face is too close to hers to concentrate on anything else. “You spent some time with this Jack, right?” Tentatively, she nods.

“So you see, your dear friend Jack will probably think that you like him.”

“Like him.” She repeats slowly.

“Like him, yes. In a I like you, let’s date kind of way. I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you. Scully.”

“Mulder, it wasn’t like that.” Scully tells him, her voice sounding uncertain. Because maybe it was like that. Just a little bit. On his side anyway. She hardly got a good look at him, or spoken to him, really, with Mulder constantly calling her. Or Mulder’s ideas running in her head as if they belonged there.

“All right, if you say so.” Mulder shrugs, putting the alien back. “Should I buy it?”

“Seriously, Mulder it wasn’t like that!” Mulder tilts his head slightly and stares at her, puzzled.

“I just wanted your opinion on whether I should by the figurine, Scully.” She feels the blush start on her collarbone and creep up into her face..

“Uhm, yeah. I mean, no. Don’t buy that junk, Mulder.”

“You’re right,” he nods, “It’s just crap, isn’t it? Not worth it?”

“Right.” Scully draws out her answer, uncertain how to judge Mulder’s expression. Still pondering it, she almost doesn’t notice his face coming closer again.

“Scully?” His breath tickles her cheek and she shivers involuntarily.


“Do you really want to buy that poster?” She doesn’t. She doubts Mulder is right – who sees a poster as a form of flirty invitation? Well, Mulder would. That thought almost makes her smile. But just in case. He’s right either way; she doesn’t want to buy that poster and send it to Jack. Jack who? Her mind asks her, her eyes fixated on Mulder now.

“Hm, maybe not right now,” she admits, “Do you know what I really want?” His face inches even closer, awaiting her answer. Or something else entirely.

“I want to get out of here,” she breathes against him, enjoying his closeness, his warmth, and she almost closes her eyes just because,

“And get a coffee. Oh Mulder, the coffee in Maine was terrible.” His head snaps back, his eyes big as the saucer on his precious poster.

“Coffee.” He coughs.

“Yeah, come on. If I decide to get a poster for Jack after all,” Mulder looks ready to pout, “I know where to go. Now I want a coffee and I want you to tell me exactly what you did while I was gone.” And she never wants to lay eyes on Spooky Carl again ever. She’s fairly happy with her very own Spooky Mulder.

“It might surprise you.” Mulder tells her, his hand finding its spot again, ushering her out. The fresh air feels wonderful and Scully takes a deep breath. Mulder watches her in amusement.

“Then surprise me, Mulder.” He chuckles, shaking his head slightly.

“I really missed y-” he stops himself just in time, clears his throat. A soft blush spreads across his cheeks and around his nose. It looks unbelievably cute, Scully thinks. “You know, coffee.” He finishes lamely.

“I don’t believe you abstained from coffee while I was gone, Mulder.”

“I thought you wanted to believe.” He grins again as she hits his shoulder playfully.

I missed you, too, Scully thinks, and hopes that one day they manage to actually let the other know.

  • anyone: what the fuck's a matt miller?
  • Kinzie, furiously: Motherfucking Matt Miller jesus christ fuck dude motherfucking FBI hacker bullshit jesus can you fucking believe this shit
  • Kinzie: Goddamn hacked the FBI and fucking lawyers and shit right fucking DeWynter Twins goddamn rowing the boat fuck yo shit i can’t even fucking believe this shit have you seen this shit fuck i just watched this shit fuck Matt Miller man
  • Kinzie: Motherfucking Boss Boss you put in the time fuck put in the time motherfucking build shit with his bare hands fucking best friend shit Matt Miller I'm very tired
  • Kinzie: No man i’ll just talk about the hacking mission all day shit man you have to be so interested in the shit i have to say about the hacking mission fuck dude i just watched it a year and a half ago fuck Matt Miller man he fucked over Boss crazy DeWynter Twins rowing trent resin or did the soundtrack fuck this guy who invented the syndicate i don’t like dying i can’t think of who the fuck invented the syndicate all i can think is the guy who played the guy who invented the syndicate who the fuck invented the syndicate?
After All This Time

Fic Request: After dating for a few months the summer before college, Stydia breaks up because they’re both going to college on different sides of the country and are most likely not going to keep in touch. Years later, they are reunited via business, but Stiles doesn’t know that the actual reason of why Lydia ended things between them. He’s about to find out. **hint hint she got pregnant with his baby and freaked out**

Description: Four years after Stiles and Lydia broke up Stiles is called to New York City to work with the FBI to stop the outbreak of a virus that is attacking the supernatural community. Unexpectedly, he finds Lydia in the middle of it and after several years he finds all of his feelings are still the same. In the midst of working on the case, Lydia’s daughter, a banshee like her mother, contracts the virus and Stiles starts working to a save a daughter he doesn’t even know is his.

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Comfort, AU

Author: niggletsune

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

ummm... what is with the religion talk here? lmao. Anyway... I was thinking in what we discussed last week abt a beard for Camila and I honestly hope that mgmt won't do it. Besides of the obvious (gaaay), also bc it would put her more in the spotlight and I don't want her to become anxious; and also bc the poor guy will be put through our extra protective FBI fandom where everyone be like "dude i'm watching ya'". I think it'd be uncomfortable for everyone tbh

Yeah, and I also think it would take away the attention from her music which is definitely not good - she needs to be recognized for herself and her work, and not for shitty gossip headlines about a new “relationship” - There’s a lot at stakes for her, because she needs to be taken seriously with this first album and I really hope her management understands that

one time i was watching el carnicero in el coche with my sister and talking about how sweets should’ve adopted javier and she immediately was like “don’t you think that would be a little unrealistic? he’s a twenty-something single dude working for the fbi and seems completely unprepared to raise a child” and i’ve never fully forgiven her for crushing my dreams so swiftly

i wish there would be an extra last-last episode of teen wolf where the FBI, CIA or even NASA come to beacon hills. dude, how come the people haven’t wonder how many deaths, crazy-ass psych hospital, nazi-obsessed physics teacher and other supernatural stuff going on in their own town?! good god, jeff! i bet if that last episode is real, it must be the most realistic on any teen wolf season premiere

anonymous asked:

Calm down,I think you need to congratulate yourself with a big cake because you are legit one of the best blogs and possibly better than the FBI or CIA.

haha thanks so much dude. Bit of a change from the last ask I got lol.

Everything’s Just Peachy (Laurens x Reader) PART 1

Prompt-“Just put the gun down and let’s talk about this.” (I’m pretty sure this is on the list and it actually has a number but I can’t find it ahaha I really wanted to write with this prompt and John sooo here goes!) 

TW: Guns, Violence, Kidnapping, Implied Abuse


It all started as a nice, relaxing night, but would turn out to be the longest night of your life. You and your boyfriend, John Laurens, were cuddled on the bed you shared, wrapped in the soft sheets, watching the latest episode of (favorite TV show) and eating some of his famous peach cobbler (Well, famous only to you, since you were the only one he made it for) with ice cream. You hated to admit it, but you were extremely tired from having to work overtime at the café that night. You were supposed to get off at 3 PM, but hadn’t gotten off until 8 PM, because one of your coworkers, named Ellis Jones, hadn’t showed up and you just had to cover their shift, granting you a laborious 12 hours on the clock that day. She’s one of the worst employees actually, from the little you’ve seen her do. You tried your best to stay awake though, because John had apparently been planning this “date” for about a week, since he worked at night, and had specifically asked to take off that day. So he did, and surprisingly wasn’t at all upset when you told him your reason for being extremely late. So here you both are, enjoying yourselves.

Well, that is, until the power went out.

You snapped your head to where John would be sitting if you could see him. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and could only make out his silhouette as he reached over to the side table and picked up an object. You only realized what it was when he shined a light on your face, causing you to wince at the sudden change in brightness.

“Sorry, babe…” You couldn’t make out his face much but you could tell he was probably wearing a sheepish grin. You shook your head and picked up your phone, eternally grateful that it was charging as you two were cuddling and had gained 94% battery charge. You turned on your phone’s flashlight and turned it upwards to give the entire room some light.

“Why did our power go out? There’s no storm…” You replied, fear starting to slightly bubble up inside you. John shrugged.

“Something probably happened to the fuse box. I’m gonna go check it out. Stay here.” He said, getting out of the bed. Your heart skipped a beat, and not in the good way. Unbeknownst to John and practically everyone except for your parents, you were always kind of afraid of the dark, though you could sort of tell that John could tell, because he didn’t question why you left your bedside lamp on when you two would sleep. You knew it wasn’t the dark itself, but what could be lurking in the shadows. The unknown. Also, you had a horrible feeling in your gut about this situation.

“No….” You said, hoping John wouldn’t hear the quiver present in your voice, “I want to stay with you.”

John gave you a soft smile. “Of course, (y/n). Come on.” He held his hand out to you, which you gladly took, along with your phone in the other hand.

The two of you set off through the house on your journey to the backyard fuse box. You tried your best not to look at anything besides the back of John’s shirt, knowing it would generate some terrible thoughts that you really didn’t want to deal with right now. There was one terrible thought you couldn’t shake though, and that was a possible reason for your power outage.

“John…” you said, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, (y/n)?” He responded.

“What if… what if the power going out wasn’t an accident?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. If there were any noise at the time you wouldn’t be able to hear his sharp inhale. Instead of waiting for a reply, you decided to look ahead of you two. You were surprised that you didn’t pass out at what you saw. Yet you definitely almost passed out at what you heard. The sound of glass breaking and the figure stepping into the house.


“Yes… John…?”

“Go back inside the room and lock the door.”

You look at him incredulously, even if he couldn’t see you. Was he insane??? You knew that figure you saw wasn’t here to have a nice conversation over tea and cookies.

“John, what the hell?? No!! I can’t leave you here!!”

“(y/n), listen to me.” He said, firmer this time, “Go back in the room. Lock the door.”

You still couldn’t process the ridiculous request he was asking of you. Your feet stayed glued to where they were.


“You should really listen to your boyfriend, girlie. Wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfire now would you?” The figure spoke. You were genuinely shocked, and you let it show on your face. The figure’s voice was feminine. And you don’t know where, but you knew that voice from somewhere. You felt John’s hand tense up.

“Leave her out of this, Ellis. Just put the gun down and let’s talk about this.” John spoke to the girl. Ellis…? As in, the same Ellis you had covered for at work today…?

“I was going to, but this seems like a lot more fun. Now, we’re actually taking up too much time here, soooo let’s wrap this up. Tony?”

You didn’t have time to mentally question who Tony was before you felt a sharp pain to the back of your head and saw black.


Laurens gasped and sat upright, instantly regretting it when a dull pain forced its way through his head. Gripping his forehead, he stood up slowly, extremely confused. It was light outside, couldn’t be any earlier than 10 AM. He looked around for any sign of what he was doing last night. All he could remember was that he was cuddling with (y/n), the power went out, and–

He froze. Turning his head slowly he saw it. Glass on the floor and a broken window.

“(y/n)…. (y/n)!!” He yelled, no regard for his pounding headache. He frantically searched the house for you, looking in every possible location, praying that this was just a weird game of hide and seek and that you would give up and come out of hiding. Suddenly, he remembered.

“….Ellis. Oh, fuck.”

Scrambling for his cellphone he dialed the 3 people he knew would be most useful in a situation like this.


“How does she even know where you live??”

“I don’t know, Alex, but she came here, blew the fuse box, and took (y/n).”

The 3 boys exchanged glances. John had called over his best friends (Alexander Hamilton, Hercules Mulligan, and Marquis de Lafayette) to help him find you. They were the only ones who knew how crazy his ex girlfriend, Ellis Jones, could get. That is, if they were present for it. He didn’t ever tell them the specifics of how crazy she could get when they were alone or how possessive she was of John around other girls, but the boys always knew something weird was up with her, and now Ellis and her possible band of hired help have the one person nearest and dearest to John: You. Anyone with eyes and ears could tell how much John loved you, and how much he would do for you. Anyone who knew about John’s relationship with Ellis could see that you were a huge step up for him and made him happier than he ever has been.

“Did you try calling the police?” Hercules asked. John shook his head.

“They wouldn’t know where to find her. Ellis works under the radar, and she’s ex FBI, she knows how to get around things.”

The boys murmured in defeat. John sighed and placed his head in his hands. He felt a hand on his back.

“Mon ami…” Lafayette said softly, “We will find (y/n). For your sake and ours, do not forget she is notre ami aussi (our friend as well).”

John nodded. Alexander clasped his hands together.

“Alright, dudes, let’s get to some FBI type shit. If I was a psyco ex girlfriend, where would I hide my ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend?”

Hercules raised his hand, “Probably not your house.”

Alexander nodded, “Alright, probably not my… Wait.” His eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette cocked their heads to the side simultaneously.




Alexander let out an incredulous laugh. “No, seriously! That’s the most obvious way to go, so no one would suspect a smart person to use that way to go. Kind of reverse psychology, if you will. Nice job, Mulligan!”

The two dudes high fived and Laurens smiled a hopeful smile.

“Let’s go get (y/n) back.”

“With that recent tire fire that was that Reddit post, you sure have some thick skin, Ben Brode mentioned that being sorta the face of a game opens you up to brunt of the community’s attacks when people asked why him and Yong Woo didn’t do more designer insights. Do you feel it’s important for a dev to have thick skin when dealing with this stuff.”

I don’t think you can be a good game designer if you have thin skin. You have to subject your ideas to the crucible of review, whether that happens internally or after players see your design.

I do think you can be a good game designer if you have thick skin, but don’t have thick enough skin to open yourself up to direct communication with players. Some of my favorite games have been made by people that can barely stand to have a conversation with other humans, let alone open themselves up to the internet.

But if you’re going to go that route, you just have to be really, really good at what you do. You need a purity of vision or an ability to foresee problems that just isn’t that common in developers. I don’t have that. Way back at Ensemble, when we weren’t sure if design A or design B made more sense, I said “Let’s just ask players what they think.” 

You don’t have to ask up front. You can launch a feature, monitor the response, and then iterate on that feature. But you have to get that feedback at some point. Lead Champion Designer Riot Scruffy the other day said something like “Even when you’ve really thought about it, tested and iterated, your chance of nailing a great design is about 70%. So you have to be prepared to iterate based on player feedback. You have to leave time for the follow-up work.” 

(I also don’t mean to imply that asking players on Reddit or forums is the only way we gather feedback.)

Now, I don’t subscribe to the idea that players should just be able to say whatever the hell they want to, and developers should just suck it up because that’s their job. I value communication, and communication is easier if you treat each other like human beings. But I also recognize that players get emotional or frustrated, and I recognize that the power dynamic between passionate player and developer who just doesn’t get it can exacerbate that frustration.

But there are limits.

I don’t block a lot of players on Twitter, but I do block them. I don’t answer stupidly rude questions, except to make a point of the fact that they aren’t going to actually bring me to tears. Sorry.

I’ve had weird phone calls in the middle of the night. I’ve had death threats. I’ve had Blizzard security offer to monitor my house. I’ve had designers who had to work with the FBI on threats. I’m also an upper class, straight, white dude, and I know developers who aren’t who have gotten much, much worse from players. There’s no reason for that. We all love games. That already gives us a lot in common.

I try and remind players all the time that your communication is going to be more effective if you’re professional about it, because then you’re actually talking about the problem and not venting about how neglected you feel. If you have a job or go to school, you probably have coworkers or teachers you disagree with that you still have to treat like human beings. Developers deserve the same respect. I know it might score you internet points to attack someone in an over the top matter. You’re better than that. Resist the urge.



I just answered my door and this dude punched me in the face and ran up on my laptop and typed in a URL that redirected my browser to the FBI virus. Now my laptop doesn’t worked anymore and he’s laughing at me for going down in one punch. These people are getting serious about this virus. Fuck the FBI. Please spread this and don’t open your doors for anyone you don’t know.