#(from 'cia file extracts')

[corallapis]

lives in my brain bc larna's name is an allusion to susan's real name (lady larn) as per birth of a renegade, in which the master incited a revolution among the students that was brutally put down....

[corallapis]

girl…

[reality-detective]

BREAKING: Navy Intercepts Deep State Submarines Carrying Kids, Gold & Bioweapons — Military Locks Down Oceans Under Trump’s Orders

As of April 14, 2025, the U.S. Navy has locked down the Atlantic and Pacific in a massive military sting targeting elite-run trafficking, bioweapon transport, and deep-sea blackmail ops. This isn’t routine patrol — this is war.

Trafficking victims. Mobile CIA servers. Gold bars. Bioweapons.

All being extracted from vessels linked to billionaires, ex-agency operatives, and foreign “diplomats.”

These aren’t pirates. These are floating Deep State hideouts — and they’re being wiped off the map.

Trump is back. This operation is under direct military command — not civilian leadership.

GITMO is active. EBS is locked and loaded. Tribunals are not coming — they’ve begun.

On the East Coast, naval strike teams seized ships disguised as luxury liners. Below deck: surgical rooms, soundproof chambers, biometric systems, and unregistered children with no records. DNA matches tie them to CPS abductions across U.S. states.

One server retrieved mapped over 600 trafficking routes since 2012 — running through Italy, the Netherlands, Israel, and U.K. ports. Funded by “charities” tied to Clinton donors. The Epstein network didn’t die — it went mobile. Now it’s caught.

On the West Coast, it's even darker.

A submersible tied to a “research foundation” was captured leaving San Diego — carrying precursor agents for aerosolized behavioral control, encrypted tablets, and night-vision tech meant for offshore “medical” camps.

Crew included former CIA, UN peacekeepers, and a WEF consultant — all under fake identities.

Some vessels carried gold stamped with central bank seals, believed stolen during the 2008 collapse and laundered through IMF fronts. Others had sealed crates of bio-compounds traced back to DARPA and WHO partners.

Nine vessels silenced in 48 hours.

No GPS. No distress calls. Just vanished.

Naval divers are pulling up deep-sea data vaults dumped overboard — containing:

Blackmail dossiers on European leaders

Human trafficking-finance links with Big Pharma

Files on Antarctic underground cities marked for “climate relocation” by elite surnames

This is military justice, not courtroom theater.

No arrests. No media coverage. Just elimination.

No escape. No more oceans to hide behind.

If you're tied to child trafficking, gold laundering, stolen intel, or elite escape ops — you will be hunted. You will be erased.

There are no more safe harbors. The storm is here.

- Julian Assange

[dontmean2bepoliticalbut]

On 7/31/2019 Trump has a private meeting with Putin. On 8/3/2019, just 3 days after his private meeting with Putin, Trump issues a request for a list of top US spies. By 2021 the CIA reports an unusually high number of their agents are being captured and/or being murdered. During the search executed at Mar A Lago the FBI find more documents with lists of U.S. informants on them.

A Timeline

• FBI wiretapped Russian gambling ring headquartered at Trump Tower for two years - March 21, 2017

• Trump revealed highly classified information to Russian foreign minister and ambassador - May 15, 2017

• Trump, Putin Meet For 2 Hours In Helsinki - July 16, 2018

• Rand Paul Goes To Russia And Delivers Letter For Trump, Marking Our Era Of Irony - August 9, 2018

• Following the Money: Trump and Russia-Linked Transactions From the Campaign to the Presidential Inauguration - December 17, 2018

• The US extracted a top spy from Russia after Trump revealed classified information to the Russians in an Oval Office meeting - September 10, 2019

• Trump’s Loose Lips Force US to Extract Spy From Kremlin - September 10, 2019

• Was Mar-a-Lago Trespasser a Tourist or a Spy? A Judge Said Her Story Didn’t Hold Up. - November 25, 2019

• Trump downplays massive cyber hack on government after Pompeo links attack to Russia - December 19, 2020

• Russia has been cultivating Trump as an asset for 40 years, former KGB spy says - January 29, 2021

• There was Trump-Russia collusion — and Trump pardoned the colluder - April 17, 2021

• Longtime GOP operatives charged with funneling Russian national’s money to Trump, RNC - September 20, 2021

• Captured, Killed or Compromised: C.I.A. Admits to Losing Dozens of Informants - October 5, 2021

• Files Seized From Trump Are Part of Espionage Act Inquiry - August 12, 2022

• Ex-Clinton aide implies 'President of France' file found at Trump's home during Mar-a-Lago raid could be valuable to Putin as 'kompromat' - August 13, 2022

• Inventing Anna: The tale of a fake heiress, Mar-a-Lago, and an FBI investigation - August 22, 2022

• Russians used a US firm to funnel funds to GOP in 2018. Dems say the FEC let them get away with it - October 30, 2022

• Trump makes shocking comments about trusting Putin over US 'intelligence lowlifes' - January 31, 2023

• Russia's Prigozhin admits links to what US says was election meddling troll farm - February 14, 2023

• GOP operative sentenced to 18 months for funneling Russian money to Trump- February 17, 2023

• Trump allegedly discussed US nuclear subs with foreign national after leaving White House: Sources - October 5, 2023

• 'So appalled': What witnesses told special counsel about Trump's handling of classified info while still president - April 24, 2024

🤔🤔🤔

[xotittyloverxo]

I love the idea of Simon accidently becoming a dad...

I've been excessively daydreaming about my favorite fictional character again, please do forgive me. This is also a rough draft and is not proof read.

So I'm thinking about a kid being rescued from the outskirts of Scandinavia or something. Her father, a national security threat and CIA operative gone rogue harboring important information, raised her in isolation. Trained in five languages, trained to hide, to hunt and to kill. (Can you tell this is kind of the plot of Hanna).

When the CIA eventually sniffs her father out and kills him, she runs. But she's still a kid and she can only run so long. Now the CIA has eight dead soldiers and a kid on their hands, and they don't quite know what to do. And that's when they decide she's better off in the military, after all, she already has a head start.

Kate is tasked with placing her. So she calls her SAS contact, since she was found on European grounds, the CIA can't exactly extract her. But they can monitor her. So she hands her over to Price. Price knows the team will give him shit about this but he can't really refuse a direct order.

Flashforward to the briefing room. Soap is groaning, spinning around in his chair. Gaz is scrolling on his phone and Ghost, well he's being Ghost.

Price and Kate walk into the room and they all sit up straight, waiting for the details of the next mission.

"What bloody deathtrap're we walkin' into now then?" Soaps finally stops spinning his chair, and glances up at the two before them.

"No, deathtraps, just a kid." Price says, and the man already looks tired.

Kate gives them a quick overview of her file, "So she's a kid that can kill, still doesn't explain how it's our problem." Gaz retorts.

"She cleared two five-man teams and left two of my man in critical condition." And that catches their attention.

"Oh." Kyle doesn't even know how to process that information.

Soap laughs, "Bloody hell, I have to see this."

And Ghost, he knows some bs is about to take place.

Guys Idk this was just meant to be a brief idea, I don't know if this even makes sense or if I should continue writing this.

Update: I did continue writing it. Here you go!

[chu16a-blog]

Benji Dunn x Reader - Enemy to Lover (Part 1/6)

Pairing: Benji Dunn x Reader

This is chapter 1/6 fanfic (everything is already written because I have exams in a week, and I'm procrastinating). However, I will upload only one chapter per day, ehehe

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

CHAPTER 1: SHADOWS IN BERLIN

Ethan Hunt sat stiffly at the center of the briefing table. Benji Dunn and Luther Stickell flanked either side, the tension between them and the CIA rep so thick it could choke.

"This target is to be captured alive," the agent said, sliding the thin manila folder across the table. "She has stolen a highly sensitive asset. She is considered extremely dangerous. Location pings in Berlin, for now."

Ethan flipped open the folder. Sparse intel. No name. No clear photo. A single blurry image of you, mid-stride.

"What's the asset?" Luther asked.

"Classified. You're to retrieve it, and her."

Benji squinted. "What did she do, exactly?"

"She's considered extremely dangerous," the agent repeated with clipped precision.

Benji raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you mentioned that part. Like, how dangerous? John Wick dangerous or more like ‘don’t eat the wrong sandwich’ dangerous?”

Luther gave him a look. Ethan stayed silent, still scanning the folder.

The agent didn’t blink. “She’s killed before.”

Benji looked surprised, but not entirely convinced. “And yet you want us to bring her in alive?”

"Yes," the agent said flatly. "Just follow the mission."

Ethan’s eyes narrowed further.

The rep gave a stiff smile. "Just follow the mission."

---

The train slid into Berlin Hauptbahnhof just before dawn. Cold wind spilled across the platform as the doors hissed open. You stepped out without hesitation, no luggage, no pause, no second glance at the cameras above the ticket barriers.

New identity burned into your pocket. Data chip sewn into the lining of your sleeve. One chance.

You’d been out of the CIA for less than forty-eight hours. Not that they’d called it an “exit.” People like you didn’t resign. They vanished. Or were buried.

Berlin was the first step. The last known vault of hard-stored intel from the Helix Project. You needed the initial data set—schematics, weapon details, control bypass.

You ducked into an alley. Adjusted the weave of your scarf. Took a breath.

They would come soon. CIA. Or something worse.

You’d seen the file requests ping on the ghost server. Not even an hour after your extraction. Redacted names. One you recognized: Ethan Hunt.

Great. IMF. The CIA’s favorite wildcard cleanup crew.

You didn’t want to hurt them. But you wouldn't be captured either. Not again.

You kept moving. Always moving.

No mistakes.

No attachments.

No mercy.

Not until this thing was gone forever.

Berlin was only the beginning.

Rain misted down onto slick pavement outside an abandoned cybernetics lab tucked away in Berlin's industrial zone. Ethan, Benji, and Luther were in position.

Inside, you were hunting for an encrypted drive left behind by a contact. The place was collapsing from years of neglect, flickering lights exposing fractured tiles and broken labs.

"I’ve got visual," Ethan murmured into the comm.

From your perch near a shattered window, you spotted Ethan.

You cursed under your breath, bolted from the console and into the maze-like hallways. It didn't take long before you heard footsteps.

Ethan was fast.

But not fast enough.

You darted through a heavy security door, slamming it shut just as the sound of pursuit echoed behind you. The metallic clang reverberated through the dimly lit server room, casting long shadows across the rows of humming machines.

Benji Dunn was there.

He stood at a terminal, fingers mid-type, eyes widening as he looked up. His body froze—like a deer caught in headlights.

You had a gun in your hand. And every reason to use it.

The two of you stared at each other across the dark room, breath suspended in the charged stillness. A flickering overhead light passed across your face as your eyes locked.

Benji didn’t move. Couldn’t.

There was no fear in your stance—but there wasn’t comfort either. He didn’t know what to expect.

His breath hitched, chest rising as though bracing for a bullet.

“…Hi,” you said lightly.

Inside your mind, you paused. Why did I say hi? It was ridiculous. You barely knew him, and he was the enemy.

His mouth opened. Then closed.

She said hi.

Why did she say hi?

Is that normal? Do assassins say hi now? Was that sarcastic? Cute? No—dangerous. She's dangerous.

But her voice… it echoed in his head, light and smooth and unexpectedly warm. And those eyes—serious, focused—but there had been a flicker of something else.

Before he could blink, you were gone.

He stood frozen for a beat too long then snapped out of it, cursing under his breath as he bolted after you. He turned the corner just in time to see the tail end of your coat whip around another hallway.

Benji shook his head violently. Stop it. She had a gun pointed at you. A literal weapon. You're being stupid. Hormones are not bulletproof.

And yet, as he sprinted around another corner, a traitorous part of him kept repeating it:

She said hi.

He almost tripped. Who even says hi in the middle of a mission? That’s not protocol. That’s… flirting. Was that flirting? Oh god. Am I into that?

He definitely needed to recalibrate his instincts. Or at least stop thinking her smirk was kind of hot.

“Benji?” Ethan’s voice crackled through the comm, sharp with urgency. “What’s going on?”

Benji huffed, sprinting. “I—I think I’m chasing her? She said hi—and then she ran—and now I’m running!”

There was a pause.

“You think you’re chasing her?” Ethan replied.

Benji wheezed. “Well, she’s very fast and very armed, and I’m just trying to keep up without dying!”

Luther cut in dryly, "Be careful. She’s not a stray cat, Benji."

"I KNOW," Benji panted, turning a corner and catching only empty air.

As you escaped the facility, drive in hand. You found yourself still thinking. That guy’s… kinda cute. Who even is he? You briefly pictured your own breathless face saying hi, the silly flirtatious thought creeping in but you shook it off sharply. No. He’s the enemy.

[keekszer0]

🚬 Smoke and Embers

Pairing: Russell Adler x M!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty black ops

Genre: Slowburn(?), romantic, spicy ending

Rating: M for violence, romantic and sexual tension, and implied physical intimacy (not too graphic)

The jungle was loud.

Not the birds or insects. Those you learn to tune out. What I mean is the chaos… the rustle of boots, the radio chatter in my ear, the distant echo of suppressed fire. Adler and I had been cut off from the others after the op went sideways. Extraction got compromised, and we were running low on ammo and time.

I kicked open the rotting door of a collapsed hut and ducked behind cover. Mud soaked through my jeans. My pulse was calm… too calm, considering we were probably marked for death. I raised my rifle and covered the perimeter.

“Two o’clock,” Adler’s voice cut in… sharp, low. I moved before he finished the sentence, lining up the shot. Target down.

He didn’t say “good shot,” but I saw the brief glance he threw me. Approval. Quiet. That was enough.

By nightfall, we’d hiked eight miles to a CIA safehouse tucked in the hills, soaked, bruised, and alive. Barely.

Now it was just the two of us.

The rain had followed us to the safehouse, hammering the roof in steady rhythm. I’d peeled out of my tactical gear and pulled on the spare T-shirt from my go-bag… black, stretched slightly across the chest, damp with sweat and rain.

Adler sat across from me, a lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. He didn’t talk much… never did unless he had something to say. Most of the time, his silences were louder than his words anyway. He’d barely looked at me since we stepped into the safehouse, but I could feel it. That quiet weight in the air. Watching. Calculating.

“You should be dead,” he said without looking up.

I arched a brow. “You’re welcome for saving your ass back there.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“You never do.” I dropped into the chair across from him. “But you also don’t smoke unless something’s bugging you.”

He glanced at me from behind his shades. “You’re observant. That’s why you’re still useful.”

“Useful,” I echoed, leaning back. “Glad to know I’m not just eye candy.”

That earned a twitch at the corner of his mouth… almost a smile. Almost.

I watched the way the cigarette smoke curled around his fingers, and the way his jaw worked when he was deep in thought. Even bloodied and road-worn, he looked like he was carved out of steel and smoke. And I knew, without ego, that I was the only one he let this close.

“You’re bleeding,” he said eventually, not looking up from the smoke curling in front of his face.

I glanced down. A shallow cut along my forearm I hadn’t noticed. “Didn’t feel it.”

“You never do until later.” He got up and walked to the small metal cabinet against the wall. His movements were deliberate, efficient. The man didn’t waste anything… breath, time, or motion.

He stood and fetched the first aid kit, tossing it on the table. “Let me see.”

I peeled the fabric back. His fingers were calloused and clinical, but I caught the way his thumb lingered at the edge of the wound. Not hesitant… just… measuring.

“You always do this yourself?” he asked.

“Yeah. Never had anyone stick around long enough to give a damn.”

The antiseptic stung, but I didn’t flinch. He noticed. Of course he did. His hands were steady, but not gentle. Precision came before comfort. Still, there was something in the way his fingers brushed my skin… absent-minded, maybe. Curious.

“I’ve had worse,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, wrapping the gauze tight. “I read your file.”

A beat passed. Then I said, “You memorized it, didn’t you?”

This time he looked at me. Head tilted slightly. Eyes hidden, but the rest of his face gave away just enough. I hit a nerve.

“You’re not the only one good at reading people,” I added.

He leaned back in his chair, reaching for his cigarette again. “Careful. That almost sounded like you think you’ve got me figured out.”

“I don’t.” I met his stare anyway, even if I couldn’t see his eyes. “But I’ve been trying.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Like he was weighing me. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t trust the words.

Then: “Why?”

“Because you don’t let anyone close unless you want them there. And you haven’t pushed me away.”

A long drag from the cigarette. Smoke curled around his face, softening the angles, hiding and revealing all at once. “Maybe I just don’t see you as a threat.”

“That’s a lie,” I said, softly. “You see everyone as a threat.”

His jaw tensed. But he didn’t argue.

The rain picked up. Somewhere outside, a car passed on the wet road, tires hissing. Inside, the room felt warmer than it had all day.

“You want a drink?” I asked, getting up and heading for the shelf. There was a half-bottle of something strong we hadn’t touched yet. Whiskey, maybe. Didn’t matter.

He nodded once.

I poured two glasses, handed him one. Our fingers brushed. He didn’t pull away.

We drank in silence. A little slower now. The warmth spread, but not just from the alcohol. It was something else. A pulse behind my ribs. A tension building… not dangerous, but deep. Focused.

“You ever stop pretending you don’t care?” I asked.

He exhaled through his nose. “And let you start thinking I’m soft?”

“I don’t think that.” I stepped closer. “Not even a little.”

He stood then, slowly. His glass was still in his hand, but his focus wasn’t on it anymore. It was on me. Entirely. Like a sniper choosing a target. Like he’d decided on something and nothing was going to change his mind.

“You know what happens when I let someone close?” His voice was quiet. Controlled.

“You don’t have to say it,” I murmured. “I’m still here.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. Then he reached up, hooked a finger in the collar of my shirt, and pulled me in… not hard, but firm. His breath was warm, faintly spiced with whiskey and smoke.

“Say it again,” he said.

“I’m still here.”

He kissed me like he meant it. Like he’d waited too long and hated that he needed it. It wasn’t gentle… nothing about Adler ever was… but it was real. All in one sudden spark. His hands found my waist, fingers digging into muscle like he needed to feel something real, something solid.

We stumbled backward toward the wall, knocking over the empty glass. Neither of us cared. His mouth was on my neck, then back to my lips. My hands tangled in his shirt, pushing it up, over the scars and fire forged skin he never let anyone touch.

My mouth trailing fire along the line of his jaw, down his throat. His sunglasses came off, finally, tossed somewhere to the floor, revealing the full intensity in his eyes.

“You sure about this?” he muttered, voice rough, lips grazing mine.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Are you?”

His answer came in the way he pulled me into him, the way his hand slid beneath my shirt, trailing heat over my spine. There was nothing hesitant now. Just fire… contained, focused, but burning deep.

We didn’t speak after that. Words weren’t necessary. It was all pressure and motion, breath and friction. Heat, tension, release. And somewhere between the haze of pleasure and the sound of the storm outside, I realized something:

He didn’t have to say he cared. I felt it in every inch of him. In every bruise his fingers left behind. In every breath he stole.

We moved like we’d done this a thousand times in another life. Every touch, every breath, every shudder was earned… not given. I felt his pulse against mine, rapid and unsteady. He didn’t try to hide it now.

Clothes hit the floor. Skin met skin.

And in the haze of that moment… his breath in my ear, my name on his tongue… I knew what this was.

This wasn’t a fling. Not with Adler.

It was fire, and smoke, and something deep. Something dangerous.

And it was mine.

RAHHHHHHH I LOVR RUSSELL ADLER I NEED HIM IN MY LIFE… 😫😫😫😫😫😫

[menheramaxxing]

Tutorial ( kind of ) on how I modded my 3dsXL to play rpgmaker 2000/2003 games,since all the guides I found are SUPER old....

I uploaded this on twt but it wasn't very comprehensive TᴖT

example!^^^^

apologies for horrible photo quality... my room is a mess so for now the darkness will have to do ( ´ ω ` )

⚠︎ ! I figured a lot of this out by playing around with my 3ds. I'm 99% sure there's a better way to do this. Feel free to reblog a better version based on this version. It's basically a prototype guide,aka please proceed with caution ! ⚠︎

what you need :

modded 3ds

homebrew launcher

FBI

easyrpg player for 3ds files ( both the 3dsx and cia file )

1. Insert sd card into computer

2. go into sd>3ds, then add 3dsx files within the 3ds folder.

3. while still in the 3ds folder, create a folder inside of that called easyrpg-player

4. insert sd card back into 3ds,open FBI and click into SD,then from there, you should see 3ds.cia

5. click into that ( I clicked delete and install but tbh I think it's better to just click install for this )

once easyrpg player is on your device ur like halfway there

Now download any games you want. I got mine from here

6. insert sd card back into computer

7. go into sd>3ds>easyrpg-player,and insert the files in there.

If they are rar files make sure to extract them by clicking extract as /"file name" or extract as folder depending on your computer

in case you're curious,some I used tested are

paranormal syndrome : loaded for the most part other than sprites

the gray garden : works fine but slightly laggy

watgbs : works fine but oomfs told me to make sure to save your game alot!! so yeah

mix ore : works great

yanderella : works great

last part !

insert sd card back into 3ds,open easyrpgmaker,click into games,easyrpg-player,and all your games should be there !

feel free to ask any questions and I shall try my best to answer them! thank you for reading and I hope I could help,even if it's just a tad bit

[y3joon-png]

Crossfire

Here for chapter 2 !!!

Act II : Lines Blur

It started with excuses. Jisung would “bump into” Mikael in the Ministry’s corridors. A glance, a laugh, a low comment murmured too close to the ear. Then came the coffee breaks. The long lunches. The walks by the Danube, hands brushing but never quite holding. Vienna had grown colder, but somehow, Jisung didn’t notice the chill as much.

They met again on a quiet Thursday afternoon, tucked away in the back corner of a little café near Stephansplatz. The waitress didn’t even blink when Mikael ordered for both of them, like this was routine. Like this meant something.

Jisung laughed when Mikael handed him the coffee. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Lischka?”

Mikael leaned back, cigarette between his fingers. “If I were stalking you, John, you wouldn’t see me coming.”

That made Jisung smile - too wide, too easy. “Touché.”

He was getting more information now. About troop movements. About shipments coming through Hungary. Little leaks, dropped between flirtations, masked as casual gossip. The CIA would be thrilled. His reports were growing thick with intel, and his handlers were already talking about extraction strategies for Mikael. Jisung should have been satisfied.

But something itched at the back of his neck. Because Mikael knew too much. He was never surprised when Jisung asked a question. He dodged what he needed to, but offered just enough to keep Jisung hungry. And sometimes - just sometimes - when their eyes met across a room, or when Mikael brushed the back of his knuckles along Jisung’s jawline in passing, it felt less like manipulation and more like something neither of them could name.

Later that night, they were tangled in each other on Jisung’s bed, stripped bare and breathless, sweat cooling against shared skin. The soft glow of the city slipped through the hotel curtains, painting everything in blue and shadow.

“I don’t usually stay after,” Mikael said, voice low.

Jisung blinked at the ceiling. “Then don’t stay.” He rolled on his back, now facing the window as he hid his chest with the thin blanket.

But Mikael did. He didn’t say anything. Just lit a cigarette and passed it to Jisung without looking. And when Jisung took it, brushing their fingers together - he felt it. A hesitation. A shift. Something real that had no place in a mission file. And somewhere, deep in the folds of Vienna’s fog and stone, the game was tilting. They were both agents, both liars. But only one of them was about to fall first. Jisung exhaled the thick smoke from his pinkish lips. Mikael’s hand lingered on Jisung’s hip. Nothing soft, nothing loving. But it wasn’t as cold as he intended it to be.

“You don’t stay usually cause you don’t want strings attached or-” He started asking but Mikael cut him off right away.

The older man sighed loudly before lighting up a cigarette for himself. “I work for the government, but what I do is illegal.” He looked up at the ceiling, lot in thoughts that seemed too real for a spy.

Jisung chuckled and sat up. He took a deep drag of his cigarette before adding proudly. “My State was the first to allow it in the US.” He smiled - this time without performance. “It has been 3 years now. I like that the place where I grew up is so… inclusive.”

Mikael didn’t smile. He just looked at him - really looked - like Jisung had said something important, something dangerous. The silence was long enough to make the moment feel fragile. “That’s nice,” Mikael said eventually, but there was something off in the way he said it. Not mocking. Not cold. Just… distant. As if the warmth Jisung offered was something he couldn’t quite touch, or worse, didn’t want to. The cigarette burned low between Jisung’s fingers, but he didn’t move to stub it out. Outside, a tram rattled past. And somewhere deep inside, Jisung wondered if he was starting to mistake the mission for something it wasn’t - or if Mikael already had.

The messages came coded, but the tone was always the same.

Make him talk.Break him.We think he’s lying.

Jisung folded the paper between his fingers, feeling the soft weight of Vienna press in around him. The hotel the CIA had secured was colder now, quieter. He lit a cigarette and stared out at the city, his reflection a faint shadow against the window. He didn’t need to read between the lines. They were losing patience. And they were starting to suspect Mikael was feeding him just enough truth to keep him close. They weren’t wrong.

Because in the past three weeks, Mikael had given Jisung just enough to seem credible - small troop schedules, new checkpoints, whispers about something coming through the Czech border. But never the heart of anything. Never the real artery. The good stuff was always just out of reach. And yet Jisung hadn’t pushed. Not really. Not the way he was trained to. Because Mikael’s hand lingered too long on his back. Because the way he said “John” had started to sound like a sigh. Because Jisung had kissed him last night, slow and soft, not as a tool - but like he meant it. That scared him more than his orders ever could. Jisung felt weaker than ever. Could this quiet, unreadable Austrian mean more to him than a target? But he was so used to flirting, kissing and sleeping with targets, without any regrets or attachment. But this time was different, and - deep in his ribcage - he could feel it. 

On the other side of the city, deep beneath the stone of the Austrian State Archives, Minho - “Mikael” -  sat in a narrow, windowless room that smelled of smoke and secrets. A man from Moscow had flown in just to talk to him. He didn’t smile. He didn’t shake hands.

“You’ve been compromised,” the man said. No preamble. No theater.

Minho raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been gathering information.”

“Not enough,” the Russian spat. “Not where it counts. Either he’s a very good journalist, or he’s something else. CIA. DIA. Doesn’t matter. You need to find out.” He slid a small envelope across the table. “You know what to do.”

Minho stared at the file but didn’t touch it.

“He’s not just some American with pretty eyes,” the Russian added. “You know it. And if you don’t confirm it, we will.”

When the door closed behind him, Minho stayed in the room a long time. He didn’t open the envelope. Not yet. He didn’t want to see what was inside - not because he was afraid it would tell him Jisung was a spy, but because he was afraid it wouldn’t. That it would be empty. That he would have to admit this... feeling had been real all along. “Americans can’t have pretty eyes.” He muttered under his breath in his native language - Korean - a discreet way to go against the system. He walked out of the protected rooms of the Archives. Minho squeezed the envelope tightly in his hand as he exhaled loudly.

For a second - just a second - he thought about it. Not opening the envelope. Burn it. Grab John’s arm. And run away with him. He shook his head violently as he rode the tram. This would make a defector out of him. And he couldn’t just lose everything for a boy, a foolish, cocky, infuriatingly-charming boy.

They met again that night. A quiet café by the Prater. A place they’d never been before - neutral ground. Jisung was already there, nursing a black coffee and scribbling into a small notebook. Minho slid into the booth across from him without a word.

“You’re late,” Jisung said.

“You’re early,” Mikael replied, lighting a cigarette.

They didn’t touch. Not this time. The air between them was too sharp. “I heard about the shipment from Dresden,” Jisung said, eyes flicking up. “You were right. It’s already been moved.”

Mikael watched him. “You have good sources.”

“Better than most. I told you I was amazing at my job.” Jisung answered with his usual cocky grin, only he knew the recipe of.

A pause. Then Minho leaned in, voice quieter than before. “Tell me something, John. Why are you here? Really?”

Jisung blinked. “I told you. I’m a-”

“Journalist,” Minho finished for him. “Right. You write articles no one reads, for a paper no one buys. And yet you know about Dresden. You know about the checkpoints. You ask questions like someone who knows what answers will matter.”

Jisung didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But something in his jaw tightened. He felt trapped, but he wasn’t losing. He never lost. 

Minho let the silence stretch. Then, softer: “If you are what I think you are… you’re very good at it.”

Jisung smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And if you’re what I think you are, then you’re terrible at pretending you aren’t.” It should’ve ended there. The pretense, the little game they played. One of them should’ve pulled out a gun or a wire or a name. But neither did. Because they weren’t sure anymore if this was the mission or the aftermath of it.

Minho reached for his coat. “Don’t follow me tonight.”

Jisung looked up at him. “Why?” Mikael didn’t answer. He just walked away, the envelope from earlier still unopened in his pocket. And Jisung didn’t follow - not because he was afraid to, but because some part of him was scared of what he might do if he did. Jisung sighed. Maybe now he had an answer on why Mikael was so specific with the information he was giving. Maybe this man was either extremely mysterious, or something deeper was lingering. The most obvious explanation was often the right one. Jisung knew it. But - surprisingly - something inside him didn’t want to trust his instinct. And he was fully in denial, of Mikael’s real role, but also of his own feelings. Maybe it was just the damn European cold messing with his brain. He laid back in the chair of the simple café.

Behind both of them, the game was shifting again. Agencies on both sides were watching. Timing their steps. Counting the cracks. Because something was breaking. And it wasn’t just trust. It was the line between them and us.

Jisung stayed there until closing, watching the servers stack chairs and kill the lights one by one. Outside, the wind had picked up - sharp and metallic, the kind that rattled deep in the bones. He pulled his coat tighter. Somewhere across the city, Mikael was probably staring at the envelope. Or burning it. Or memorizing every line of it. Jisung didn’t know which scenario scared him more.

He lit another cigarette with shaking fingers and told himself - again - that this was just a mission. That he was still in control. That Mikael was just a mark, just another cold body with a warm voice. But as he walked the streets back toward his hotel, he kept seeing the way Mikael had looked at him earlier. Like he wanted to believe in something. And Jisung realized, with a sinking, terrifying clarity, that he did too.

[tacticalhimbo]

YAYYY i finished my timeline... Bell (Danya) is now a member of Pantheon :3

I figured it'd be fitting for him given the intensity of what he's been through, and how much he's given of himself already.

He's a husk of the man he once was, and it's clear (through his work with the CIA and, beforehand, with Perseus) that he has no qualms getting his hands dirty for his beliefs.

I'll bulletpoint what I'd written out for Bell's involvement with the BO6 campaign (below the cut, because of spoilers). Left out some other BO6 plot points solely bc this is about my boy, and my boy alone (well... also about Case; just a little). Bolded the key points bc I just copied from my timeline page, which explains everything more thoroughly.

The team uses Adler's files to recruit ex-Stasi technical genius Felix Neumann and assassin Sevati "Sev" Dumas to the team. They then coordinate a mission to break Adler out of a CIA black site hidden under Washington D.C.. The team manages to extract Adler just as Pantheon assaults the black site, but they are blamed for the attack instead and declared fugitives. Upon hearing of Adler's release, Bell (who is in America on leave with members of the PMC he'd joined) goes rogue and dedicates himself to the chase once more; the bounty on his head increases.

Adler stays behind in Iraq to track down Pantheon's head scientist, Matvey Gusev, while Case, Marshall, and Sev investigate the biolab. Bell, who had been following the team closely at this point, takes the opportunity to ambush Adler. Seeing the ghost of a man he'd thought he killed, Adler gets shaken up and briefly loses track of Gusev. Throughout Adler's time in Iraq, Bell and him play a "cat and mouse" game with one another, which ultimately results in Danya learning of Pantheon and the The Cradle.

Danya follows through with the leads he'd discovered, and joins Pantheon's ranks.

While investigating the biolab, Case accidentally inhales Cradle gas and hallucinates fighting off a series of monsters and zombies, as well as hears a woman’s voice that details Pantheon and Cradle's origin. He also finds notes written by a "Bell", explaining that he knows what the CIA is capable of, and telling him to trust nobody; he leaves instructions for a meeting in these notes. When Case regains his senses, the team discovers that Pantheon has already stolen the biolab's stores of Cradle, and also find a recording revealing that Harrow is working with Pantheon.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Case slips away from the safehouse and meets with Danya. The latter details what the CIA, specifically Adler, are capable of. While leaving out many personal details about it, he tells case that even if it feels like he's doing the right thing… Helping Adler, Woods, and the others will be his downfall. Shaken up by the biolab incident, and repeating flashbacks, Case seems sympathetic to the idea, and maintains secretive contact with the Russian.

Adler informs Woods that he's seen "Bell", but Woods seems disbelieving and writes off the idea.

Adler injects Harrow with a truth serum, the very same he'd used on Danya, prompting her to reveal that she joined Pantheon after they leaked information claiming that Adler killed her parents; that the Cradle has already been planted inside the Capitol Building and is waiting for her command to deploy; Pantheon's ultimate plan is to use the Cradle to carry out a false flag attack to discredit Livingstone and replace him with Harrow, putting them in full control of the CIA.

Pantheon, including a batallion with Danya, then assaults the Rook and manages to rescue Harrow thanks to a tracking device in Harrow's arm. Case gives chase, and boards Harrow's escape helicopter, ultimately causing it to crash in the river.

Danya remains on the ground at Rook, fighting alongside the surviving Pantheon members in an attempt to push through and kill the CIA team. He comes close, but fails, and is forced to begin retreat. This is when Harrow's escape helicopter crashes.

Under the influence of released Cradle gas, Case strangles Harrow to death before presumably drowning. Marshall unsuccessfully tries to radio Case, explaining that Livingstone managed to evacuate the Capitol Building and recover the Cradle.

Danya and the other operatives retreat, though Danya lingers in the area in an attempt to see any signs of life from the helicopter. There are none, and after several weeks of camping out, he leaves once again, regrouping with the remaining Pantheon squadrons in the region.

[dialogue-queered]

Comment: The documents released are heavily redacted.

11 Sept 2021.

Paul Daley

Extract 1: Australia’s covert overseas spy agency, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service, opened a base in Santiago to assist in the US Central Intelligence Agency’s destabilisation of the Chilean government ahead of the bloody military coup against Salvador Allende’s socialist government 48 years ago today.

Declassified Australian government documents prove that in December 1970 Liberal foreign minister and later prime minister, Billy McMahon, approved an Asis request to open the base. For 18 months from 1971, according to the US-based National Security Archive, Asis apparently conducted covert operations in Chile – including handling CIA-recruited Chilean assets in Santiago and filing intelligence reports to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

The documents disclose how McMahon’s successor, Labor’s Gough Whitlam elected in December 1972, less than a year later ordered the then Asis director, William Robertson, to disband the service’s Chilean operations.

Extract 2: On 1 July – barely two months before the military coup that would end with the ousting of Allende’s government by general Augusto Pinochet – the Asis station in Santiago reported to Canberra that it had shut down. “All remaining station records etc. have been destroyed.”

Whitlam sacked Robertson as Asis director in late 1975. Whitlam later said that Robertson had defied him in both 1973 and 1975.

On 11 September 1973, Pinochet mounted his US-supported coup. Allende gave his final speech as president as troops massed outside his palace. He vowed not to resign. He suicided the same day.

[corallapis]

idk if i vibe w most of the prydonian academy revolution origin story but... elective semantectomy? tightening of non-interventionism standards after the morbius crisis? the master fleeing gallifrey wounded? i'm listening

[elmalo8291]

Hell yeah—let’s build Glass Throne into a gritty, high-stakes political thriller video game. Think Deus Ex meets Spec Ops: The Line meets Disco Elysium, but soaked in paranoia, secrets, and backroom deals. The gameplay, tone, and mechanics reflect the unraveling of power, addiction, and consequence.

GAME TITLE: Glass Throne: Collapse Protocol

Genre: Political Thriller RPG / Narrative Adventure / Psychological Survival

Perspective: Third-Person, Dialogue-Heavy Exploration + Stealth/Strategy Sequences

Engine Style: Stylized realism with noir shadows and distorted lighting effects during high moments (to simulate the President’s fractured mind)

CORE CONCEPT:

You play as multiple characters in an intertwining narrative—each one trying to either protect, expose, or survive the madness of President Alton Rhames. Choices matter. Loyalty, truth, and morality are gray areas. The White House isn’t just a symbol—it’s the most dangerous building on Earth.

PLAYABLE CHARACTERS:

Victor Selk – Secret Service vet. Tactical segments, moral dilemmas, protection vs. exposure.

Marla Eden – Chief of Staff. Strategic political gameplay, dialogue trees, manipulation mechanics.

Layla Moore – Investigative journalist. Stealth, data hacking, truth-hunting, risk-reward exposure gameplay.

Samantha “Sam” Vale – Survivor. Escape sequences, memory-based investigation, healing vs. revenge arc.

President Alton Rhames (unlockable midgame) – Addicted, fractured psyche. Dreamlike sequences where the player manipulates reality and perception… or destroys it.

GAMEPLAY LOOP:

Dialogue-driven Decisions: Branching options à la Mass Effect and Disco Elysium.

Moral Alignment System: “Power, Truth, Fear” – actions nudge you toward certain endgames and alliances.

White House as Hub World: Explore hidden rooms, classified tech, surveillance corridors, drug dens under the West Wing.

Stealth & Espionage Missions: Leak evidence, tail staffers, extract survivors.

Surreal Sequences: As Rhames, navigate drug-fueled fever dreams—make decisions that affect real-world outcomes.

Media Manipulation Mini-Game: Control what the public sees—craft speeches, bury stories, run disinformation ops.

NOTABLE MECHANICS:

Panic Clock: A timer that ticks down during critical events (press leaks, international threats). Pressure builds constantly.

Addiction System: Rhames’ gameplay is influenced by drug access. Manage—or surrender to—his addiction.

Shadow Web: An underground network of whistleblowers and truth-seekers you can help… or destroy.

My game is my game here's a game for you sir

Court of Public Opinion Meter: A dynamic public response bar that fluctuates based on your choices, lies, and media spins.

ENDINGS (MULTIPLE):

Collapse Ending: Country descends into chaos. Rhames vanishes. The Glass Throne shatters.

Cover-Up Ending: The truth is buried. You rise higher. But everyone you love disappears.

Redemption Ending: Hardest to achieve. Characters unite to expose Rhames without global meltdown. But it comes with sacrifice.

Dictator Ending: Rhames embraces full power, rewrites laws, and controls media. “You win”—but at what cost?

DLC & EXPANSION IDEAS:

“Classified Files”: Play as CIA and foreign spies manipulating events behind the scenes.

“Midnight Agenda”: A horror/survival side-story inside the White House’s underground after a lockdown.

“Glass Throne: Aftershock”: Post-collapse America. Resistance gameplay. Build truth from ruins.

You want visuals? I can mock up a pitch deck, UI screens, or gameplay trailer script. Want multiplayer? A co-op mode where each player controls a different faction in real-time crisis?

[morbidologycrimejunkie]

Blackwell, Damian R.

CIA Dossier

🕵️‍♂️ Damian Blackwood – CIA Background Bio

Name: Damian Rhys Blackwood Alias (Former): Agent D. Locke – Field Operative, Ghost Division Division: CIA – Special Activities Center (SAC), paramilitary branch specializing in black operations, unauthorized surveillance, asset extraction, and “non-official” interventions. Status: Disavowed Current Designation: Blacklisted. No active warrant. Files sealed under Executive Protection Order.

🎖️ RECRUITMENT & RISE

Damian was recruited straight out of law school—not by a law firm, but by a government contact watching his rapid success on corruption exposure and high-profile takedowns. A former Yale Law star and former quarterback with a competitive, strategic edge, he was hand-picked for a covert legal-ops program that embedded trained legal minds into black sites and foreign operations.

He trained under the Ghost Division, a subset of the SAC where agents were used off-book—frequently disavowed, often without country protection, and always expendable.

Damian's specialty:

Infiltration, manipulation, and dismantling corruption inside foreign governments and U.S.-linked covert ops gone rogue.

He was fluent in reading people, extracting truth, and bending rules to force the bigger play. To his handlers, he was invaluable. To the system? He was dangerous.

🩸 THE MISSION THAT ENDED IT ALL

His final mission involved an American journalist, Serena Locke, who had infiltrated a black-market weapons operation in the Middle East. What she uncovered pointed not just to foreign corruption—but to American involvement, including secret arms deals funded through civilian construction projects.

The CIA ordered her silence.

“Let the locals handle it. No recovery necessary.”

Damian disobeyed.

He tried to extract her. She refused to leave without her story. When the situation escalated and an enemy faction found them, he was forced to eliminate her quickly—a mercy kill before the enemy could take her. She died not knowing he was there to protect her. The agency covered it as a failure—then pinned the exposure on him.

"Ethics breach. Unauthorized kill. Disobedience of direct orders."

No trial. No hearing. Just… erasure.

🕳️ BLACKLISTED, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

The Senate quietly sealed the files. Damian was burned. Disbarred from law. His reputation smeared publicly—not as a CIA agent, but as a rogue prosecutor who tampered with evidence in a domestic case. The truth never surfaced.

No one from the agency stood by him.

Only one person did: Emmett Reinhard, one of the founders of Reinhard, Foster & Weiss, who had ties to intelligence circles. Emmett knew the truth—and offered Damian the one thing he needed most: a job where power came without permission.

“You don’t have to pretend to follow rules here. Just fix what needs fixing.”

💣 PERSONAL FILE NOTES (Restricted)

Known Traits: Hyper-observant. Borderline paranoid. Highly analytical. Loyal but slow to trust. Capable of extreme violence when justified.

Psych Eval: “Under control, but carries deep moral injury. He doesn’t regret what he did—he regrets that it wasn’t enough to save her.”

Watch Flag: Has not forgiven the agency. If exposed or pushed, he could become a liability.

[cochininstitute]

The Future of Accounting: How Technology is Changing the Profession and How CIA Prepares You for It

The world of accounting is evolving rapidly, and technology is at the forefront of this transformation. As businesses increasingly rely on digital solutions, the demand for accountants who are skilled in using modern accounting software and tools is growing. If you're looking to advance your career in accounting, it’s essential to stay ahead of these technological changes. This is where the Cochin Institute of Accountants (CIA) steps in, offering accounting courses in Kerala that integrate cutting-edge technology with traditional accounting knowledge.

In this blog, we will explore how technology is reshaping the accounting profession and how CIA’s professional accountant training programs are preparing students to thrive in this new landscape.

The Role of Technology in Modern Accounting

Over the last few decades, the role of technology in accounting has become more significant. Gone are the days when accountants spent hours manually calculating and recording transactions. Now, software tools are essential for ensuring accuracy, efficiency, and compliance.

Some of the key technological changes in accounting include:

Accounting Software Programs like QuickBooks, Tally, SAP, and Xero have become vital tools in streamlining accounting processes. These software solutions allow accountants to automate everything from bookkeeping to tax filing and financial reporting. The integration of cloud-based software has also enabled real-time collaboration and access to financial data from anywhere in the world.

Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning AI and machine learning are now being used to automate repetitive tasks, identify patterns in financial data, and predict future financial outcomes. This technology can help accountants focus on more complex and value-driven tasks, such as strategic financial planning and advising.

Blockchain Technology Blockchain has emerged as a revolutionary force in financial transactions, offering a secure and transparent way to record transactions. As cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin and Ethereum grow in popularity, accountants need to understand how blockchain works and how to incorporate it into their practices.

Data Analytics The ability to analyze large sets of financial data and extract meaningful insights is becoming more important. By using data analytics tools, accountants can provide more value to their clients, offering insights that go beyond traditional accounting practices.

Cloud Accounting Cloud-based accounting systems allow accountants and business owners to manage their finances securely online. This has improved accessibility, real-time updates, and collaboration between teams, reducing the risks of data loss.

How CIA Prepares You for the Future of Accounting

At the Cochin Institute of Accountants, we understand the growing need for technology-driven accounting skills in the industry. Our professional diploma in accounting programs are designed to not only cover traditional accounting practices but also incorporate the latest advancements in accounting technology. Here’s how CIA stays at the forefront of technological integration in accounting education:

Hands-on Experience with Leading Accounting Software CIA ensures that students gain practical experience with industry-standard accounting software like Tally, SAP, and QuickBooks. These software programs are integrated into our curriculum, allowing students to learn by doing, which is crucial for mastering the tools they will use in the workplace.

Incorporating Data Analytics and AI Understanding data analytics and AI is no longer optional for modern accountants. CIA includes training on these cutting-edge tools in its accounting courses in Kochi, helping students develop a deep understanding of how these technologies can be applied to accounting practices. This gives our graduates a competitive edge in the job market.

Blockchain and Cryptocurrency As part of our professional accountant training, CIA offers modules on blockchain technology and cryptocurrency accounting. Our students learn how to integrate these modern solutions into accounting practices, which is especially valuable as digital currencies become more common in global trade.

Real-Time Financial Collaboration With cloud accounting solutions, businesses and accountants can now collaborate in real-time. CIA prepares students for this new way of working by teaching them how to use cloud-based accounting tools that enhance collaboration, improve accuracy, and increase efficiency.

Flexible Online and Offline Learning If you’re looking for accounting courses in Ernakulam, CIA provides both online and offline learning options. Our online courses are designed to give you the flexibility to learn at your own pace while still accessing live sessions, discussion forums, and interactive assignments.

Why Choose CIA for Your Accounting Education?

If you’re looking for the best accounting institute in Kerala, look no further than CIA. We pride ourselves on being the best accounting institute in Kochi because of our commitment to delivering quality education that incorporates both traditional accounting practices and the latest technological advancements. Our goal is to ensure that every student who walks through our doors is prepared to succeed in the rapidly changing world of accounting.

Our curriculum is updated regularly to reflect industry trends, and our faculty members are seasoned professionals with years of experience. We offer a range of specialized accounting courses that cater to different needs and career paths, making us the go-to institute for accounting courses in Kerala.

The future of accounting is digital, and the professionals who adapt to these changes will be the ones leading the way. Whether you're just starting your career or looking to enhance your skills, Cochin Institute of Accountants is here to help you navigate this evolving field. With our cutting-edge programs, including professional diploma in accounting, accounting courses in Ernakulam, and accounting courses in Kochi, we ensure that our students are equipped with the skills and knowledge to succeed in the future of accounting.

Enroll today to start your journey with the best accounting institute in Kerala and become a forward-thinking professional in the world of modern accounting.

[back-and-totheleft]

Book of Stone

To the minimalism of Straub and Huillet we can counterpoint the maximalism of Oliver Stone, the most aggressive tabloid American director since Samuel Fuller (although Rococo-period Tony Scott gives him some competition). After two books on Wes Anderson, Matt Zoller Seitz has brought us a booklike slab as impossible as the man’s films. Can you pick it up? Just barely. Can you read it? Well, probably not on your lap; better have a table nearby. Does its design mirror the maniacal scattershot energy of films like JFK (1991), Natural Born Killers (1994), and U-Turn (1997)? Watch the title propel itself off the cover.

stone-book-coverThe Oliver Stone Experience is basically a long interview, sandwiched in among luxurious photos, script extracts, correspondence, and the sort of insider memorabilia that Matt has a genius for finding. We get not only pictures of Stone with family and friends, on the set, and relaxing; there are bubblegum cards from the 40s, collages of posters and filming notes, maps, footnotes, and shards of texts slicing in from every which way. Newspapers, ads, and production documents are scissored into the format, including a Bob Dole letter fundraising on the basis of the naughtiness of Natural Born Killers. Beautiful frame enlargements pay homage to the split-diopter framings of Born on the Fourth of July (1989) and the shadow of the 9/11 plane sliding up a facade in World Trade Center (2006). When Stone had second thoughts about things he’d said, Matt had the good idea of redacting the interview like a CIA file scoured with thick black lines.

The whole thing comes at you in a headlong rush. Amid the pictorial churn and several essays by other deft hands, we plunge into and out of that stellar interview, mixing biography and filmmaking nuts-and-bolts. Matt gets deep into technical matters, such as Stone’s penchant for rough-hewn editing, as well as raising some big ideas about myth and autobiography. There are occasional quarrels between interviewer and interviewee. Out of the blue we get remarks like “Alexander was not only bisexual, he was trisexual,” which was not redacted.

The book’s very excess helps make the case for Stone’s idiosyncratic vision. Matt’s connecting essays, along with the vast visual archive he’s scavenged and mashed up, made me want to rethink my attitude toward this overweening, sometimes crass, sometimes inspired filmmaker. He now seems a quintessential 80s-90s figure, as much a part of the era as Reagan, Bush, and Clinton. Stone emerges as a resourceful defender of The Oliver Stone Experience, articulating a radical political critique with gonzo verve.

-David Bordwell's review of The Oliver Stone Experience [x]