#Serum Institute

[rightnewshindi]

सीरम इंस्टीट्यूट ऑफ इंडिया ने पीएम मोदी को चुनावी बॉन्ड के रूप में दिया पैसा, राहुल गांधी बोले, यह जबरन वसूली योजना

सीरम इंस्टीट्यूट ऑफ इंडिया ने पीएम मोदी को चुनावी बॉन्ड के रूप में दिया पैसा, राहुल गांधी बोले, यह जबरन वसूली योजना

Rahul Gandhi News: कांग्रेस नेता राहुल गांधी ने शनिवार को एक बार फिर भाजपा के नेतृत्व वाली केंद्र सरकार पर हमला किया। उन्होंने चुनावी बॉन्ड योजना को सरकारों को गिराने और राजनीतिक दलों को तोड़ने के लिए इस्तेमाल किया जाने वाला जबरन वसूली रैकेट बताया। बता दें, भारत जोड़ो न्याय यात्रा के दौरान राहुल गांधी महाराष्ट्र के थाने में जंभाली नाका के पास लोगों को संबोधित कर रहे थे। इस दौरान उन्होंने आरो��…

[artbyblastweave]

I've never made any connections between Worm and the Captain America mythos before. Spill some ink?

Okay, so from a purely aesthetic perspective, the gimme is Miss Militia. She's the most obvious "Captain Patriotic" in the roster, she has the power of GUN, she's the only one who actively buys into the mythology of America specifically. She's a Kurdish woman occupying an aesthetic niche generally held by a rugged squinty white guy. She's an output of the melting pot narrative. She's sort of a rendering of what a grounded superhero who somehow became very aesthetically into America might look like. Not in the craven marketing-driven way of Homelander or Comedian, not in the jingoistic maniac way of USAgent or Peacemaker. She buys it in the broadly left-liberal (USamerican connotation of that term) safe, friendly, reclamative way. Why, what a great rehabilitation of the archetype!

She's also deeply, deeply afraid of rocking the boat. She's got a deepseated childhood trauma related to the bad things that happen when she puts herself in a leadership role. She goes along to get along. When she's proactive, it's usually to point a gun at Tattletale to stop her from upsetting the status quo. She sits through a lot of situations where Steve Rogers, as commonly modeled, would probably plant himself like a tree by the river of truth and go, "Hey, this is fucked up." She more or less capitulates to Undersider domination of the city, in a way that predisposes us to think of her as a voice of reason after all these total nuts that Skitter's been up against- but would Taylor "to relinquish control is a form of ego death" Hebert really be willing to leave someone in charge of the local Protectorate branch who she thought couldn't be corralled? She looks like a beacon, but doesn't- indeed, probably can't- ever truly behave like one. I mean, you can debate the on-the-spot morality of any given one of her judgement calls, that's actually one of the less exhausting Worm Morality Debates to have- but in aggregate, a person in American flag garb who actually meaningfully criticizes the paramilitary organization they're part of is not gonna survive long in that role!

So again, she's the gimme from an aesthetic standpoint. But what I don't really see a lot of discussion of is how Cauldron plays into the riff.

Captain America is institutional, but in a comically morally uncomplicated way. The serum was originally mana from heaven, granted to a living saint, conveniently divorced from any nitty-gritty sausage-making process and even-more conveniently divorced from the horrible consequences of giving the, uh, the U.S government a replicable super soldier process. And in fairness to Captain America, this is 100 percent something the overall mythos eventually patched to my satisfaction; the sausage-making process eventually revealed as prototypical government fuckery driven by human experimentation on black servicemen, the overall Marvel Setting littered with failed attempts by the U.S. Government to recreate that golden goose so they can have their fun new jackboots. (In Ultimate Marvel, this is how almost all contemporary superhumans were created, and this is a state of affairs with a body count in the millions or billions.)

Cauldron draws you in with the same noble rhetoric about greater goods, the same one-off proprietary irreplicable formula- but you don't get the luxury afterwards of representing nothing but the dream. You aren't partnering up with a plucky crank scientist with a heart of gold. You're selling your soul to an organization with an agenda. The narrative makes no bones about the fact that everything you do is fundamentally tainted by the fact you opted into an end product created through torture, kidnapping and human experimentation. You don't get to pull a Kamen Rider by going rogue or opting out or making good use of the fruit of the poisoned tree; you are owned, and everything you do has this Damocles sword hanging over your head- when are the people who bankrolled this going to come to collect?

So that's the question of "who would willingly dress like that" covered, and the question of who creates a serum like that. What about the question of who takes a serum like that? I'd argue that Eidolon is the examination of that. Pre-Cauldron David reads to me like pre-serum Steve Rogers viewed through a significantly bleaker lens. They're both sickly kids desperate to serve, rocketed to the pinnacle of human capability by an experimental procedure. But for Steve Rogers, the crisis was that he had a specific vision of the world and was frustrated by his inability to carry it out. Before the serum he picked fights over what was right and wrong and got his ass handed to him; afterwards he picked those same fights and just started winning instead. The serum neatly solved a problem he had, and to the extent that his mindset is influenced by his pre-serum experiences, it's generally constructive; a desire to protect the weak, help the helpless, an appreciation for people who stand up for what's right even when they're clearly gonna get pancaked for their trouble. So ultimately there's no dark side, downside, or underlying neurosis ascribed to his initial impulse to take that serum.

But with David, it's not a tragic case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak. He isn't a preternaturally-noble soul, out to represent the best elements of the American ideal- he kind of represents the inverse, a guy who's been failed at every level while utterly convinced that he's the problem. He's actively suicidal because he's a wheelchair-bound epileptic in an economically-depressed socially-backwards rural town in the 1980s, and he's spent his 18 years of life internalizing the idea that he's worse than useless unless he can somehow find a way provide value to something larger than himself. Doctor Mother finds him in the aftermath of a suicide attempt spurred by his rejection from the army- and he didn't even want to join the army specifically, necessarily, he just needed his situation to be literally anything else, and he took what he thought he could get. And then he finds himself in a position to become a superhero, so he does that, molds himself into that, subordinates himself to that, builds his entire sense of self and values around the value he can provide in that role. No grand design or sacred principles carried over through the metamorphosis. Just relief at finally, finally having something that looks like an answer to the question of what he's supposed to do.

And you know, you know that if Steve Rogers was facing down the barrel of being depowered, he'd smile and nod, he'd Cincinnatus that shit. It's happened before. But for David, the emotional trauma and self-worth issues that caused him to roll the dice on a Steve-Rogers treatment never really went away. When would it? He's been Providing Value as a ten-ton Hammer Against Evil for thirty years. No family, no social life. Certainly, no incentive on his handler's part to lance his Atlas complex. So he barrels towards atrocity in the name of remaining useful. Admittedly, this is where the comparison breaks down in a significant way; Captain America is much more of a symbol than he is an irreplicable powerhouse, so it's not catastrophic if he's taken off the board. Eidolon is so unbelievably powerful that his myopia and self-centeredness actually do align with a real problem everyone else is gonna have if he loses his powers. But in terms of the starting points- I think that Steve Rogers embodies the myth about why you'd want to join the army that badly. Eidolon is, I think, much more closely modelling why you'd actually want to join the army that badly.

[luna-rainbow]

About your reply to the anon about Maria Stark:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[noctxj]

the reaper | part ii

as far back as human memory can recall, the origin of flower marks remains unknown. if perhaps they came during or after the birth of humanity, or are benevolent gifts from the gods to aid ones navigation in life— milestones to remember and learn from, a north point on a compass lest you stray from your path. regardless, they have always been. and while flower marks remain an important aspect of ones journey, there is none other more significant than the soul flower mark. wherein the moment someone is born, this mark blooms above ones heart, as it is considered a pure reflection of who that person is and will be.

part i / part ii / part iii

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

flora grows older.

learns (is subjected to) the seemingly endless cruelty humanity possesses. learns (witnesses) that the ugliness of humanity is contagious; better known as war. learns (loses to) the monster carefully nurtured within her chest— her very being, her soul flower mark of death.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

the championed student of the notorious institution; a place whispered within the intelligence community as nothing but a myth, a hoax riddled from the remains of the USSR’s fall. a secret institution that had been slinking along the deep shadows of their former glory as a house of murderers flittering across the globe as agents of chaos and terror.

pulling undesirable girls into their maddening shadows to try and reclaim their bygone prestige and notorious skill to level world powers to the very edge. but the undesirables’ bodies were too weak; unformidable, seeping like sand through the institutions enraged fingers. unable to mould them to their benefit, their creed.

until the arrival of flora changed everything for the institution.

flora’s soul flower mark viewed as a blessing—

the beginning of a new era for the institution.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

lily of the valley’s remained a constant companion for flora throughout her early years in the institution. their abundant trails having far surpassed halfway across the left side of her back. she found no need to address them, nor look at the new ones that would burn themselves into her skin after another day being struck down.

the strike of a fist across her head was bearable, she just needed to grit her teeth, breathe, and refocus on her assailant.

the slash of a knife across her skin was something she did not flinch or blanch at, the littered scars across her back a testament during her formative years at her mothers estate.

the unmistakable crack or fractured bone only giving flora a second of pause. not from being immobilised, but to mentally assess if the damage will be detrimental to the fight.

flora found that the superficial pain brought on by her mentors’ physical training was something she was able to learn from and prioritise accordingly.

by the age of ten, rhododendron’s freely flowed from the palm of her right hand down to the skin surrounding the delicate bones of her wrist; a silent warning to those vigilant enough to look, to beware of her.

it didn’t matter how broken her body was, especially during a mission; first and foremost complete the objective, then and only then she was granted permission to return back to her private quarters, one of the many nameless medical staff already waiting to tend to her "mistakes".

there was no such thing as injury at the institution. only calculated and miscalculated choices, the difference between surviving and getting killed prematurely.

like a porcelain doll being mended by a dollmaker, the sterile gloved hands of the medical staff would expertly smooth over her bleeding and fractured body with pills, serums, needles and eternally crimson bandages.

the plume of purple hyacinths crying forgive me forgive me forgive me, from her right hipbone eventually quickly pattering out after only months at the institution.

instead, the burning of vivid red tulips bloomed beside them on flora's right hip and waist. throbbing with so much wrath, as if trying to wash away the naivety of the purple hyacinths' plead for forgiveness. as if she had lost hope for better, for someone (her mother), anyone, to come and save her.

consequently, the institution delighted over this change in character; as finally, what they had been waiting for, hoping for would finally come to fruition—

flora becoming a little less human and a whole lot more of a monster.

the institutions prodigy student—

the reaper.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

apologies for the wait for part ii + it being a little too short ++ if it also wasn't what you were imagining ಥ‿ಥ i have so many things i'd love to do with this story (bouncing around in my head and random notes ugh) but writers block literally has me by the throat

so please enjoy this filler? chapter while i try and kick writers block ass !!

thanks for stopping by!! ♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username)

[sassenashsworld]

Strong at the Institute

(this one is purely headcanon since we know nothing about this aspect of Strong's past)

The List

The man is completely bewildered. He doesn't understand where he is. He can't understand what is going on. He's not sure who these folks are.

Who are they?

He finds the room quite peculiar. Even the sound is weird. It somewhat resembles Dr. Sun's clinic. Or, rather, Dr. Sun's clinic appears to be a bizarre parody of this play. There are men and women wearing too clean attire in a too clean place with too clean equipment. Too much white. There's an excessive amount of white in the clothing worn by those individuals. And other colors. Comedy of colors. Too much faded. Too much clean.

The people around him take notes and whisper with one another, but everyone ignores him.

“Hey!” He tries to free himself, but he has been tightly tied to some sort of bed. Even this bed is strange!

The man's struggles do not go unnoticed. A man, tall, wearing glasses with thick lenses comes closer.

“You finally awake,” the man tells him with a smile. “Good.”

“Who are you?” the poor victim asks him, still struggling against his bonds.

“I'm a doctor,” the glasses-wearing man says, looking over him without touching him. “Can you tell me your name?”

“The hell with everything!” The man barks back. "Why are you strapping me to this bed? Why am I being held captive? Who the hell are you?”

“Calm down, please. No one is holding you captive. You're in a hospital at Diamond City.”

“There is no hospital at Diamond City! Only a clinic! Who are you? Why did I am here?”

“Doctor Virgil,” a woman in a strange, clean suit of a different color says as she approaches the doctor-like figure. “He seems a suitable candidate.”

The man looks at the woman and nods.

“He'll do,” he validates.

“It's seemed. Should we start the experience?” the woman asks.

“Yes, Missis Anubia. First, give the vitamins to ensure the serum response.”

Anubia nods and leaves the room, only to come back with a tray that contains a couple of syringes and some other medical instruments.

The man, bound to the bed, widens his eyes.

“Hey! I don't want anything!”

He starts struggling again.

“It's just vitamins,” Anubia reassures him. “Nothing to worry about. You need them.”

The man shakes his head.

“Nope. I don't want 'em. Leave me alone,” he says defiantly.

The tall man approaches once more, examining his notes.

“You've expressed a liking for classic music and literature. Would you like us to incorporate some of these elements into your transition process?”

The man's attention is somewhat grabbed at that.

“Hah. So, you do know me.”

“We know many things about you,” says the tall man matter-of-factly.

“Doctor Virgil, is it? You are a doctor? Virgil, my man, can you do me a favor?”

The doctor looks at the man with a smile. This is the first time someone is willing to cooperate.

“Sure. What do you want?”

“GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

The tall scientist chuckles, looking at his colleague. Anubia raises an eyebrow and moves the syringe closer to the man's arm, despite his continued struggle.

“Oh, don't worry. It won't hurt,” she says. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”

The man tries to twist to the point of hurting himself, but the more he struggles, the more he understands the bounds are really mean to hold. He cannot avoid the needle. Anubia administers the vitamins without trouble.

The man slumps. The medicine was more than vitamins, the effect being quite noticeable.

“What... is this...?” he stutters.

“Vitamins and some soothing products,” says Virgil. “Don't worry. It's simply intended to help you relax a bit so we can assist you better. There will be no interference with the serum at all. It will soon be dissipated.”

The man tries to move his arm—to twitch—to do anything, but he becomes paralyzed. Fear settles into his eyes as he realizes he can't do anything. He can't fight. He is at their mercy.

“Don't worry!” The doctor repeats with a smile. “It's only temporary. You'll feel better soon.”

“How... how soon...?” The man manages to ask even if, for now, his jaws seem too hard to move properly.

“About twenty minutes. This is the duration required for the serum to fully penetrate your system."

“Twenty... minutes...?!” The man gasps. “Serum?”

“Don't worry,” Virgil continues, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing awful will happen. You will feel better in no time.” He quickly injects another vial into the man's arms. “But in the meantime, we think that listening to some music will help you.”

“Music...? Like a lullaby for a child...?” the man asks in a trembling voice.

“Not exactly,” Anubia replies, her smile spreading. “We comprehend you like the works of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. We have prepared something for you. I'm sure you will enjoy it.”

“I... I don't understand,” the man says, feeling a dread in his bowel.

Anubia presses a few buttons on a strange machine, causing it to begin playing music that may resemble Mozart's compositions but is far from it. The sound is loud and unlike anything the man had ever heard before.

The man attempts to speak, but the noise is so loud that it overpowers him and takes over his entire consciousness. At this stage, he has trouble even recalling his own name. He feels as though a drill bit is whirling within his skull. The sound seems more than just sound—like claws closing on his brain. He tries to blink, shake, and find something, but nothing happens. Nothing forms in his mind. He's not even able to grasp reality and time.

He felt as though he plummeted into an emptiness, and this emptiness embodied the sound.

A blank.

A long blank of nothingness.

When something finally surfaces in his consciousness, he desperately clings to it.

“It's not Mozart... it's not MOZART!” The man doesn't understand why it bothers him so much, but it does. “IT'S NOT MOZART! PLAY MOZART!”

Virgil approaches Anubia and points something on her pad.

“Sadly, I have the impression we can already state about the aggressivity...”

Anubia nods and writes something down her pad. After that, she fidgets with the machine until it stops making noise. The man is sweating profusely, struggling to calm himself down.

“It's not Mozart...” he says with an uneven voice. “Why is this not Mozart? It has to be Mozart!”

On a wave of the doctor, the personal leave the room as well as Virgil and Anubia. The poor man finds himself alone. He doesn't understand what is happening. He doesn't understand why he is here. He doesn't understand what those people are doing to him.

He can't move, but his mind is wide awake, racing. What is happening here? The serum is making him feel... strange. He tries to move his arm again... and again. And again.

A... shiver of his fingers! He's not completely paralyzed.

In fact, the man is not paralyzed at all. The effect of the serum is unclear, but he can move his fingers, hands, and feet. Why did he thought he was paralyzed?

The man is confused. Why the hell did he thought he was paralyzed? He looks around, checking if he is indeed alone. He takes a deep breath to get his bearings. His legs, his arms, his body—all of it is intact! He can even breathe properly! Now, why the hell did he thought he was paralyzed? He flexes his fingers and toes, rolling his shoulders.

The ties firmly hold him to the bed. He can't do anything. He is stuck here, alone, with no answers.

He sighs, slumping against the bed. What can he possibly do now? Wait until those guys return to continue... whatever they're doing? Hell no. His mind is on fire. He is more than ready to fight…

...but there's no one to fight.

Time is running its course. The twenty minutes are long gone now, but no one comes back. He’s waiting. He waits for what seems to be hours. After a long time, he does not understand why, but his obsession with Mozart returns.

“Hey, Virgil?” He tries to call. “Doctor Virgil! You said I’d have Mozart? Can I have Mozart?”

Just as he finishes, the door to the room opens, but the man coming in is not Virgil. It is someone new.

“You are conscious,” says the stranger. “Good.”

“What the hell is going on here...?” the man asks hostilely, staring at the newcomer with suspicion.

The newcomer comes to his bed. He looks different from other people he has seen so far. He looks older. Older than any person he's ever seen. He is in a lab coat, as are Virgil and some others, but with a clean sweater underneath.

“Don’t fear about anything. We got you. You are in good hands.”

His voice is so soothing.

The poor man stuck in a strange bed can only calm down now.

“Who... who are you?”

The newcomer inspects some instruments and screens, then turns to the other.

“The serum has already been injected into you. Those idiots. I will need to make further adjustments to ensure your double is functioning properly.”

He takes a syringe on a plate and moves closer to the bed.

“WHO ARE YOU?” asks again the poor victim.

The newcomer gives him a disinterested gaze, obviously not impressed.

“People here call me Father, but for you it doesn’t matter anymore.” He inserts the needle into the other’s arm, but instead of injecting something, he collects his blood. “Soon, nothing will matter to you... except perhaps… Mozart?”

The attached man can't help but feel a deep fear seeping into him. Mozart. Why is nothing playing Mozart? Why is Mozart important? He had questions. He’s sure of having questions. Important questions...

“Why didn't anyone let me hear Mozart?”

The newcomer's smile widens at that.

“You do like Mozart,” he states, not as a question but as if he were hammering something in the mind of the man.

“I... am... yes... maybe? I... I WANT TO HEAR MOZART!”

A sudden fist of rage seizes him, and he tries again to struggle in his bounds. That's when he is surprised to be able to slack them. But before he can rejoice, an unbearable pain seizes him on top of his rage, and he lets out a cry of agonizing pain.

The newcomer does nothing but watch the man writhe on the bed, trying to free himself with only his own muscles.

“Shhh... calm down,” the stranger says, his voice so oddly soothing. “Don't resist too much. You will only hurt yourself.”

The man is now panting. The strange sounds they have make him listen sooner invading his mind.

He wants Mozart. He wants Mozart. He wants Mozart.

“Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!”

Virgil and Anubia abruptly return to the room.

“Sorry, Father,” Virgil rushes to defend himself with humility in his voice. “This subject quickly succumbs to the serum, it seems.”

The newcomer doesn't even turn to his colleagues; he keeps focusing on the poor man on the bed.

“I know!” he says, his voice still eerily calm. “What did I tell you about that? Why are you so reckless with the serum dose?”

“We followed the usual protocol, Father,” Anubia quickly answers, somewhat intimidated by the too calm man.

Virgil nods, agreeing with his colleague.

“It's the usual dosage we use with the other subjects,” he says.

Father sighs, turns to face them, and takes another syringe from the platter.

“You didn't take into account that our subject here is older than the others,” he says slowly, injecting the new product in the man's veins. “Of course he succumbs faster. You are too careless to notice these things.”

Anubia and Virgil exchange sheepish glances as the newcomer calls them out.

“We... were not aware, Father. We apologize,” Virgil finally says.

“Of course you weren't,” Father said with a small, bitter chuckle. “You apply the same treatment to every subject, disregarding their physical attributes. That's why the success rate of the FEV is so low.”

“Wait!” suddenly grasp the victim. “FEV? You have injected me with FEV? I AM TRANFORMING INTO A SUPER MUTANT?”

Virgil and Anubia try to hush the man, but Father simply puts a single hand up to silence them.

“FEV is more than just a transformation to 'super mutants'” he says. “It is the future of our kind. It can change everything. There is so much potential in that serum. So much to explore. So much more. You are not just a subject; you are a candidate. And we are going to change you to something better.”

The man struggles more and more, feeling his bound weakening fast.

“I DON'T WANT! I DON'T WANT! NO! NO! NO!” He is losing his mind so swiftly. Rage, blind rage. He is losing it. He will lose it even more. “NO! YOU CAN'T! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!”

Father smiles like a shark.

“The Institute has all rights. Calm down now, or we won't allow you to have your... Mozart.”

The mention of Mozart seems to have an immediate effect on the poor man, despite the turmoil in his mind. He instantly looks at Father, as if hoping he can get an explanation or... a threat.

“Mozart?” he asks with a trembling voice.

“Yes, Mozart. Soon, you will hear all the Mozart you want, Mister McDonough.”

The elder exits the room with Virgil and Anubia.

The man begins to feel increasingly weird; his struggles decrease, and his breathing gradually worsens as the sound again invades his mind.

“Mo... Mozart...” he says in a dreamy voice. “I want... Mozart...”

[ramp-it-up]

Bucky Barnes and the Summer Soldier- One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Bucky has been looking for you for a while. Is he going to destroy you before you complete your mission?

Word Count 2.2K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT! Read at your own risk. Curate your own experience. Reader is confined in a mental health faculty, suppressed memories, Pursuit, implied former combat, kidnapping, coercion, mind control, dub con. Raw s ex, hair pulling, rough s ex, cream pie, c um play/oral (m receiving), a ssault. Google translate Hausa and Russian. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is a result of this ask from @flordeamatista. I have taken great liberties with the MCU cannon and timeline. This is fiction! As always, reblog if you like it!

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You ran for your life, lungs burning, feet flying.

You looked behind you to see that the one pursuing you was not far off. You ducked down a hallway and into an open door. 

Your chest heaved as you leaned against the wall and looked around for a hiding space.

Fragmented memories were coming back to you during this pursuit, and at this moment, the sense of running barefoot through tall reeds on the banks of a river overwhelmed you. 

You shook it off, although you couldn’t help yourself from looking to the air for your favorite brightly colored water fowl. Your heart dropped when you looked around to register an empty room with a solitary gurney. The fact that you were trapped in a mental hospital and not outside it sucked the air out of you. 

And then you heard his footsteps.

Bucky slowed his pace as his ears perked up, and he opened the same door you did moments before. He’d come for you an hour ago and you’d managed to evade him ever since. Typical for one who’d taken the serum. You were a hard target to acquire, but he was determined.

He scanned the empty room, checking for trap doors or hidden panels. He walked over to the windows, which were sealed shut. He looked down on the courtyard that patients weren’t allowed to use and shook his head, then, he made his way out of the door again.

You waited three minutes after you heard his footsteps retreating before you moved the ceiling tile and dropped down from where you’d been hiding.

For some reason, the man you were hiding from you terrified you. Ever since you saw his face weeks ago when you fought him on a mission, you’d been plagued with strange memories. Which made your Master have to reset you again and again. You resented that. 

Despite the fact that you felt impelled destroy him, you did not want to face the dark-haired man in black with the piercing blue eyes again. You may not know your own name, but you knew that man had some mysterious power over you. Even more so than the Power Broker.

Just as you reached for the doorknob, the door jerked open, the man in black returning your stare with a rueful grin. You’d been too lost in your own thoughts to be fully aware of his presence.

“Daga karshe na sameki masoyiyata.”

Your ears perked up at the language that the man spoke. You understood it, although you’d spoken French for as long as you could remember, which wasn’t long. Maybe this horrible institution wasn’t your home.

“Why did you call me that?”

Your eyes widened when English came out of your mouth. It seemed a natural response to this man. You were very confused, more than you normally were, which was always.

The man was inching closer to you now.

“Because that is who you are, Soyayya ta.”

“No! That’s not true!”

You hurled yourself at the man, climbing up his body and winding up with your legs around his neck. You squeezed,  hoping to choke him out while he grinned up at you.

“Yes it is.” 

His voice was weak, as if he was gasping for breath. For an unknown reason, you let up on his windpipe.

Suddenly, you were sat on the gurney, your right leg in his left hand. You could not get out of his grip and you two stared at each while he held your legs apart. When he licked his lips was when you kicked him in the sternum. Clearly, he was surprised at the force, which caused him to double over, but he quickly recovered and caught you before you moved two feet, grabbing your bicep and bringing your arm behind your back, placing you none too gently against the wall.

You grunted as you felt all of him, including his manhood, pressed hard and insistent upon your back. 

Was he going to violate you? 

Did you want him to?

Yet another language flowed out of his mouth, which was close to the shell of your ear. You suppressed a shiver as you heard his velvet voice. 

“Sygrayem v nashu malen'kuyu igru, kukolka?”

He snaked his left arm around your neck and pressed you back further into him as his gloved hand turned your face to his. He leaned around, as if he was going to kiss you, and opened his mouth. His breath fanned your face as he bared his teeth and bit the pointer finger of the black leather glove he was wearing. He used his mouth to tear the glove off to reveal a black and golden hand. You were mesmerized by it until it was quickly clamped over your mouth.

The sensation was familiar and when you tasted the metal; it was nearly orgasmic. Your eyes rolled baack into your head and you  all but ignored the man’s other hand roaming your body.

“I’m just checking you to see if you’re okay, Doll.”

The hand tasted like home, like warm air and smells of your favorite foods. It tasted like beautiful people and excellence and safety and…Wakanda. Your eyes flew open when you realized.

Vibranium. 

You sobbed as memories came flooding to your mind. The pathetic sounds were muffled by the vibranium hand.

Your mother. Your father. The river that was your home. Your weapons. Your money. The vow you took when you became a Dora Milaje and Shuri’s personal guard. The same vow that you broke when you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier…

“Farar kerkecina.…James…”

“Shhhh Doll. I’m here now.” 

Bucky pulled you into his arms from behind, and you held on to the limbs that were wrapped around you as you cried, one human and one created by the Princess, Shuri.

Finally, you turned around and looked up at the love of your life. He peered back at you, eyes full of concern, but also a mixture of relief, love, and yes, need.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer him, instead, you asked your own question.

“How long, James? How long have we been apart?”

Bucky brought his hand up to your face, thumb tracing your chin and fingers in your dense curls.

“A little over two years.”

You gasped and tears fell again fresh and new. 

“I searched for you every day. I promise, Doll. And you’ve been right under my nose…”

Your heart melted.

“I know you did. The Power Broker is devious. She did horrible things. Made me do…”

And then he kissed you. His lips were the softest and strongest you’d ever tasted. You licked into his mouth and fisted his t shirt between you. 

“You don’t have to tell me. I know. And I’m going to find her and bring her to justice.” 

Bucky was panting as your hand strayed to touch the bare skin and the metal under his shirt. He smirked when you pinched his nipple.

“She is mine to destroy.”

Bucky’s smirk turned into a full fledged grin when you glared up at him and opened his pants. He shivered when you fisted him.

“There’s my girl.”

You separated from him as you pulled your shirt over your head. Next went your pants and underwear as Bucky’s eyes roamed your body. He licked his chops, just as the White Wolf would.

“You sure you don’t wanna leave, Doll? Need to check you out. Need to get you an examination… get you safe…”

You backed away from him toward the gurney.

“I need to have you James. Please. I remember. It’s been so long. I need some control back. Please.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from moving toward your upturned ass as you bent over the gurney and looked over your shoulder at him.

“You told me the serum heightened everything. But I didn’t understand before. I need you now, James.”

Bucky was drawn to you as if on a string.

“I get it, Doll. Everything is so much. You sure you alright, Doll?”

You hadn’t said that you were before, but you avoided the topic again.

“See for yourself, farar kerkecina.”

Bucky rubbed your ass, eyes glazed over, lust flowing through his veins. It had been a long 26 months and visions of you clouded not only his dreams, but every spare waking moment. He couldn’t help it.

His metal hand quickly undid his belt and pants while his right, his flesh, dipped into you, feeling the wetness between your legs. You reached back to the arm that shined, incrementally trying to bring him into you. He held you off, but he did slowly start to swipe his cockhead through your neglected folds.

“Oh…”

Bucky watched and drooled as he took in the vision of your mouth and that wide open, perfect O of those perfect lips.

“So gorgeous… Soyayya ta..”

He slowly breached your tight hole, and your mouth widened impossibly even more as the stretch almost took you out. It hurt, but it hurt so good, the only positive sensation you’d had in over two years. 

This time, Bucky let you reach back to grasp the base of him, slowing down as he saw the difficulty with which you were having taking him. You adjusted his aim, and he paused, hand on your hip as you spread your cheeks so that he could get inside you. Your eyes met in surprised sensation as he was finally able to slide all the way home. 

“Feel so damn good, White Wolf!”

You started moving faster on his cock as his hands slid up your wiast to your tits, squeezing, groping, making up for lost time.

He was stroking a slow, steady, deep pace, as his metal fingers made their way into your open mouth, pressing down your throat as your tongue swirled around your native metal. 

“So goood….”

You were gagging around his fingers, partly because of his actions, and partly because he felt so good inside you. You reached back and grabbed his shirt, pulling on it as you took his thick cock inside you, looking back at him stretching your tiny hole with awe. You looked into each other’s eyes as you felt him swelling impossibly.

“Love your bald head, but I like this hair, Doll. I can do this…”

And Bucky grabbed your curls, pulling on your roots deliciously and stretching your neck so that he could engage you in a filthy kiss while he drove into you. You separated, gasping for breath.

“Bast! James, is your cock made of vibranium too?”

He laughed at the old joke, which made the rounds of the Dora until you found out the truth.

“You make me feel like it is, soyayya ta.”

Bucky let you go so that you could hold on to the gurney and fuck yourself on his cock.

He grabbed your breasts again and the look of surprised lust came was mirrored on both of your faces as you felt yourself squeezing him with your impending orgasm.

“C’mon, Soyayya ta. Give it to me.”

“James, oh James. Oh….!”

“Good god!”

You bent fully over the gurney when you came, and Bucky had a clear view of your beautiful cream on his cock. That’s when he started pounding you out properly, using you to reach his end. Your senses were so alive that you felt each stream and splash of his cum inside you, and it caused your sensitive cunt to shudder. You lay there under him as he collapsed on top of you, relishing the feel of him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Bucky kissed your shoulder and down your back as he looked around for something to clean up with. You looked back at him, and stood up, Bucky’s spend leaking down your legs.

“Let me.”

You gave him that look as you bent over, taking his still semi-hard cock in your hand. You stared at him straight on as you took him in your mouth and cleaned him off.

“That mouth, those eyes… you’re killing me here…”

You smiled around his girth and then opened your mouth to let him see the effects of your handiwork.

 “On my life, Doll. I will never get enough of you.”

He pulled you up to standing and leaned down to give you a filthy kiss.

“So glad to have you back in my arms.”

Bucky turned around and leaned on the gurney as he held you. You leaned into him, tears pricking your eyes as you felt the same emotions, but knowing what you had to do. 

“I love you, farar kerkecina…”

You gave him a tender kiss on the lips before you delivered a blow to his vagus nerve. Bucky went out immediately, and you gently laid him on the gurney before you got dressed again.

“I have to finish this with the Power Broker, and I know you will try to stop me.”

You tucked the underwear that you’d cleaned up with into his jeans pocket, trading them for the keys to this asylum.

“We will be together soon, my love.”

You gave him a kiss on his perfect lips before you quickly made your out of the hospital, on your way to kill Sharon Carter for making you the Summer Soldier and taking the child from your belly.

Daga karshe na sameki masoyiyata (Hausa)– "I finally found you my love"

Soyayya ta (Hausa)— My Love

Sygrayem v nashu malen'kuyu igru, kukolka? (Russian)-- "Shall we play our little game, Doll?"

Farar kerkecina (Hausa).… "My white wolf"

[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Promptlet: Alec learns magical theory

Or the one where you can't actually live with the High Warlock of Brooklyn and not learn at least a little bit of magic.

Alec adores sitting in his spot in Magnus’s apothecary and watching him make potions or transcribe texts while Magnus absently commentates on everything he does. Magnus has never before allowed anyone such unfettered access to this space before and is constantly surprised at how much interest Alec takes in his work and the intelligent questions he asks once he’s sure he’s not bothering Magnus by asking.

Catarina comes by one day and is shocked that Alec automatically follows her and Magnus into his apothecary and even more shocked when Alec not only clearly has his space there, but Magnus isn’t  fluttering about uncomfortably with someone intrudingin the magical heart of his lair - he’s moving around as though Alec belongs there.

Magnus begins teaching Alec basic potions when he realizes how much Alec loves helping him in the apothecary, usually fetching and carrying ingredients. (The first time Alec pops up his side with a vial of angel’s fern in hand, Magnus blinks at him in confusion wondering how in Lilith’s name Alec had known he needed it. Alec grins. The potion is a healing one and Magnus had just put in three drams of fire lizard blood, a toxicant he knows from last week’s batch of burn serum can only be neutralized with angel’s fern. Magnus is both a little bemused and vaguely proud.)

Jace and Izzy come over one day and need a basic healing potion. They say they’ll wait for Magnus, but Alec just walks into the apothecary (asking his siblings to wait at the door since Magnus isn’t there) and begins gathering ingredients and preparing the workspace. They’re very confused. Magnus comes home in the middle and wraps his arms around Alec from behind, burying his face in the back of Alec’s neck and muttering something sotto voce that makes the Shadowhunter blush. Jace and Izzy cackle in delight.

In the middle of the Institute cafeteria one day when Magnus is visiting, Catarina and Magnus get into a spirited debate on the use of mundane ingredients in healing potions. When Alec comes to joining them at their table, dropping a kiss on Magnus’s cheek as he sits, the listening Shadowhunters are nonplussed when their Head has very definite opinions on this topic.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

just thinking about how the first ever encounter steve had in this century was the people he was supposed to ‘trust’ lying to him and pretending he was still in the 40s. if the MCU had any guts (or if i could write it for them) there is NO WAY steve would trust them after that

Literally.

That man has had his trust broken so many fucking times in so many different ways over his various arcs. He has to have major issues there. Like, there's no way he would trust anyone fully after that being his first waking experience--not until they prove themselves. There's also that whole thing where people are constantly trying to get his blood to figure out what was really in the serum and that moment with Fury where he recognizes the institutional fear, not freedom, being instated so, like, c'mon... Steve is not trusting S.H.I.E.L.D. even before he realizes that it's been infiltrated by HYDRA.

Not to mention!! Steve experiences the way he's treated when in "disguise" versus when he's obviously thee Steve Rogers and how different that can be, so he's certainly aware of how untrustworthy or, just, weird people can be to him because he's Captain America. You can't tell me he doesn't have trust issues resulting from that, too. Perhaps it's just hard to see next to Natasha Romanoff (or even Bucky Barnes, to some extent), who may be the poster child of trust issues, but the point still stands.

Thanks for this excuse to do a short rant, lol

[paragonrobits]

on a whim i looked up the Templin Institute (a worldbuilding-focused youtube channel I dropped because I was horrified at a video they made where they claimed that the Men of Tolkien's Legendarium aren't REALLY human because they're not vicious enough, cruel enough, or obsessed with war) and I was miffed to see that apparently since I dropped them they made a video arguing that everyone in the MCU should be living in constant fear and that it would be better to live in the universe of The Boys (because the super serum is qunaitifable) and Warhammer 40k (since in that one, everyone is a zealot who believes that the God-Emperor protects them and thinks that all aliens are inherently evil)

and it sort of illustrates a thing that... I don't think sci fi fandom or writing IN GENERAL is like, but it is enough of a common element to bother me, and its when people treat cruelty, systemic brutality or man's capacity for evil as an inherently positive aspect.

This ties into the video that caused me to drop them; the channel made the claim that the Rohirrim would have been doing better if they had been genocidal and brutally attacked anything different enough from them (in the sense of "maybe if they had killed all orcs on sight for being nonhuman, Rohan would be doing better"). and its like... why?

I honestly can't fathom why anyone would consider that a good thing, or even think that it SHOULD be expected to hate and fear anything different from you, and to got to the extreme that NOT being xenophobic by default is some kind of failing, or imply that not wanting to kill all other forms of life makes you different from humans, or that being more bloodthirsty or willing to hurt others is an advantage.

What, I can't help but wonder, is the appeal in lionizing the worst parts of ourselves?

You see a lot of this in sci fi, and i think its because a lot of those look at the factions involved as characters in their own right, so they don't really feel much when stuff like 'by performign x social policy, the Human Dominion allowed 42 percent of its people to starve to death on purpose' is considered a fairly neutral detail.

Mindless fanaticism is often prized in these settings, to the point where the most common fandom memes is numbing stuff like 'FOR THE EMPEROR' and 'PURGE THE XENOS'. quite literally stuff all about turning your brain off and being happy about being a murderous garbage-animal that acts like a walking personification of the 'maybe the people who say all humans are inherently evil animals and that it will be a blessing when we all die and no longer poison the universe with our cancerous capacity for evil' idea.

i find it really, REALLY fucking creepy when this stuff gets popular, and more to the point, when the idea of 'humans are naturally warriors/soldiers' becomes so prevalent that you have people hating the idea of some universe where we don't automatically try to kill things for not being like us. its just exhausting, and tedious and...

I don't know, but it doesn't really sound right with archaelogical evidence for us.

I'm thinking about how ancient graves from our own ancestors and our neanderthal cousins both have many signs of caring for the ill, the elderly and infirm. the remains of children with severe Down's syndrome who survived until at least five years old, well cared for by others. Lots and lots of bodies with healed fractures and broken legs, which means someone took care of them; a running animal, and a hunter, with a broken leg is a dead animal. A healed leg is someone who was taken care of.

I think about how on the island of Cyprus, they found an truly ancient burial. In it, they found the body of a long-dead human, and beside them, the body of a cat, laid to rest with ceremony and by all signs, love.

The burial is around 9,500 years old; almost ten thousand years ago.

This predates the first confirmed use of writing by at least 3000 years or so. 3000 years before the epic of gilgamesh became one of our first stories (a story, I note, about a king who grieves the death of a friend and desperately tries to find the secret to immortality, and in time makes peace with the inevitability of death, and becoming a story we still know today).

War goes back a long way; there's no mistake about that. But I think about how friendships and love for animals that loved us too, and long-dead people still showing the signs that people cared enough about them to keep them alive as long as possible, is probably much more integral to the concept of being human, or perhaps what it means to be a thinking entity at all, more than our capacity to hurt each other.

[tom-cobalt]

The Lime Arc Starts

( ooc. This post technically doesn't exist in universe. Only the last part. But the last part will also have a post in universe)

“I can’t believe, I have a date!” Tom shouted, as he jumped around the small cell that he called a room.

Such enthusiasm was rare on a place like the Green Light Lab. A place where no kind of recreation was allowed, where you could be punished by the smallest mistake you made, and where you were being watched at almost all times…

However, ever since Tom managed to find a cellphone that could connect to people from all kinds of universes... things suddenly have become more bearable.

He was still trapped on that heartless and soulless institution… but, for the first time, in a really long time, he actually felt like there was someone out there that cared about him.

He met a variety of interesting figures across the multiverse. Such as the adoptive daughter of Harley Quinn ( @morganinez ), an adopted brother trapped in a time loop ( @cookiesnotd3ad ), a speedster who was very motherly ( @ladylightningrod ), a sister who wanted to be a therapist ( @gothambornandraised ), a snake girl ( @airessol-spray ) , a vigilante ( @vvultur3 )… and, recently, he even met a boy who finally understood him ( @w3atherboy )…

Sure, he wouldn’t be able of going on a presential date considering his… current circumstances. But, at least, he had something to look forward to.

“I am going on a date with Leo!” he shouted again on accident. This time, however… it was a bit too loud.

He covered his mouth in fear, as he felt the cold sweat dropping from his face. He sighed as it seemed that his sudden emotional outburst was left unnoticed.

Knowing that this feelings and lack of ability of keeping this excitement under control could lead to his doom, he turned to his chair and his desk, and decided to go back into, as he called “Blue Prodigy Mode” and finally finish his newest project for the next science fair…

This time, hopefully, he wouldn’t be punished. And, maybe, he could even ascend to the Green Ranking, and finally start to make some changes to that heartless machine that was the Inner Workings of the Green Light Lab.

However, as soon as he grabbed his tools, he heard his energy grid being open by someone else’s orders…

“What is the meaning of such loud noises?” a very familiar voice questioned our blue prodigy.

Tom didn’t even need to turn around to see the source to know who this unwanted intruder was.

“Oh, dear prodigy Lime. To what do I owe the displeasure of your presence?” the blue prodigy asked on a cold and mocking tone.

He wasn’t going to let Lime, out of all the people, feel above him in any sense.

“Don’t change the subject, Cobalt, I heard high-pitched senseless giggles coming from your dormitory” the green prodigy demanded, growing increasingly annoyed.

“Perhaps the remorse inside of you is finally coming to the surface, and your brain is punishing you with hallucinations, who knows?” Tom suggested, not backing down.

“I am not in the mood for your sentimentalism and your lack of objectivity today, Cobalt” Lime spoke, losing his patience.

“And I am not in the mood for your interrogations, but hey, here we are” the blue prodigy retorted, hoping that he would finally leave.

They kept staring at each other, none daring to look away and allowing the other to win.

Ever since Lime revealed his true colors, and destroyed any remnants of his old self, that’s what they previous friendship and romance become.

Tom was a nice and caring person, but even he had his limits… and hurting his friends was something he would never be able of forgiving.

He used to love the boy in front of him… but now… all he could think of was his expression when Noah's hands were cut off, or the red serum was injected on Ryan. The last straw was his excuses of why he stole his invention on the last science fair, leading to hours of painful torture for the blue prodigy…

“Well, I am sure that you, as an all-powerful Green Ranking, has more urgent matters to focus on than alleged giggles coming from my dorm. So, can you please just leave me, since I have my own responsibilities to care for?” Tom asked, trying to use his last amount of politeness to not expel that intruder from his room.

With no other choice, Lime turned around and was about to leave… until he noticed something quite interesting laying on the mattress on the ground.

“What is this?” he puzzled, as he marched into the direction of the peculiar object on the ground. On one fell swoop, though, Tom managed to snatch it before his ex could check it.

“Don’t touch this!” the blue prodigy demanded, trying to hide the device from the prying eyes of the green prodigy.

“A cellphone? Now that’s a surprise coming from you” Lime commented, giving a small smirk of satisfaction at the situation.

Tom couldn’t help but tense up. He knew what Lime was capable of doing with that information… and it frightened him deeply.

“Well, let’s see what Pine and the Green Council will have to say about this” the green prodigy wondered, as he started to walk away, still pleased with what he managed to find out.

"Wait!” Tom shouted, while grabbing the arm of his ex. Lime furrowed his eyebrows in response.

“This is not… just a regular cellphone” the blue prodigy revealed, turning on the cellphone to explain the truth. He hated allowing Lime to win like this, but… his life was at stake. He had no other choice.

“A few weeks ago, this fell inside my cell, and, when I tested it… I found out that it wasn’t capable of communicating with people from our world… but, it could be used as a communication method with people across the multiverse” Tom explained, showing him his tumblr account.

Lime started to scroll the blog, and seemed to show some interest, while the blue prodigy just wanted to be swallowed by the ground or just… disappear.

As the green prodigy checked the comments and conversations, however… he ended up seeing Leo’s confession towards Tom… and his face changed expressions.

“Now that you know that the image of the Green Light Lab is safe, and that I haven’t broken any rules… can you please just go and leave me alone?” the blue prodigy asked, feeling defeated after giving his rival the information that he wanted.

Lime, however, didn’t move. He stood there, clenching the cellphone with anger. Then, he projected a screen from his cane.

“Council, I need two security robots here on Prodigy Cobalt’s room” he asked through the screen. Tom started to tremble in fear.

“I spoke with him and he seemed… quite delirious. I think that we need to make some tests on his mental state” the green prodigy explained.

“NO!” Tom shouted, starting to shake Lime.

“You can’t do this to me Lime. You can’t. You can’t. You can…” the blue prodigy repeated, knowing what was about to happen to him.

Lime, getting furious at the behavior, grabbed Tom by the color of his shirt, and pinned him against the wall.

“You are in NO position to give orders, Tom!” Lime yelled full of jealousy. Tom was painting out of tiredness and stress.

“You really thought I was going to allow you to continue this ‘Romeo and Juliette’ game you have playing online without any consequence?” the green prodigy questioned, with a mixture of contrasting feelings inside of him.

“But, don’t worry. I will take of this silly little ‘blog��� of yours and finally do something useful with it” Lime announced, with a venomous tone. Soon after, the two robots that he requested arrived.

“Taking him to the mental chamber. And only let him go after all the tests have been completed. Take as much time as needed” the green prodigy ordered.

The robots finally started to drag the blue prodigy away. He tried to free himself from their grasp, but they were too strong to do so.

“LIME!” Tom shouted, trying to get at least one bit of empathy from the boy who he helped so much in the past…

But, Lime stood firm on his decision, and smirked as he typed on a new post of the blog.

“I have the pleasure of informing you all that, after the incompetence of the previous owner, this blog is under new direction… and things will finally be put in order”

[vladdyissues]

Do half-mers have power of water? Or the voice of siren? Or... they're just mermaids?

They could have fish communication powers... Siren Wail... Wave Energy Blast... Fin Slap. Anything, everything, combo or nothing, I suppose. I have like 6 different merfolk AU iterations (for now; I come up with new ones at the drop of a hat) and may use any of them:

Everyone is a merperson, they all live on Amity Reef, and Vlad and Danny got zapped by some mysterious energy from the abyss that Jack and Maddie were trying to harness, so now they're mers with superpowers

Same as above but with the added trait of Vlad and Danny being able to shift forms and walk among humans

Everyone is human but Vlad and Danny received half-mer shifting powers due to being exposed to a serum that Jack and Maddie developed because they were contracted by the US government or some shady oceanic institution who wants to create water-breathing super soldiers to wage a global war or specifically target the the merpeople who live in a peaceful sanctuary deep down in the ocean

Same as above except there is no government contract and the Fentons are just convinced that merpeople exist (they're correct but that doesn't stop everyone else from thinking they're crabshit insane)

Everyone is a merperson but Vlad and Danny got cursed by the evil sea king Pariah and now they're half-ghost mers who have to work for him

Were-mers

[krakenartificer]

Today in "I understand why it happens but it's still frustrating"

I've been looking into topical magnesium, more commonly known as an "epsom salt bath". And, like, on the one hand, "alternative medicine" is a great source of ideas for treating medical conditions, and basically every single existing non-alternative medicine has been the result of doing some science on "alternative medicine" techniques. And on the other hand, the placebo effect is both strong and very real, and humans are terrible at understanding randomness, which is why we even invented science. You really do gotta check, you always gotta check. AND, back on the first hand, humans are eerily good at finding patterns, to the point where there probably ought to be a Humans Are Space Orcs story about it, and a lot of humans, whose conceptions of reality have been put through some pretty intensive stress testing, believe that epsom salt baths work. AND, on the second hand, we invented science, we have science, we ought to use science.

So anyway, several studies have looked into whether topical magnesium has any effect, and in 2017 someone went through and did a meta-analysis of it, and admittedly some of the studies were insufficient to draw any conclusions from them, but still, none of them showed any kind of evidence that there was enough happening here that it was worth looking into further. Since (despite our best efforts) you can't test everything, it makes sense to prioritize doing real amounts of research on things that are showing promise in the initial trials.

EXCEPT

none of those studies, nor the meta analyses, acknowledge that (quoting directly from the National Institute of Health)

Assessing magnesium status is difficult because most magnesium is inside cells or in bone. The most commonly used and readily available method for assessing magnesium status is measurement of serum magnesium concentration, even though serum levels have little correlation with total body magnesium levels or concentrations in specific tissues [https://ods.od.nih.gov/factsheets/Magnesium-HealthProfessional/, accessed 2023-03-28]

All of them checked whether topical magnesium influenced the amount of magnesium in the blood. And it does not. But that result is entirely consistent with the expected result if topical magnesium is absorbed into the skin: if your soft tissues, which hold 39-49% of your magnesium, are deficient, then you would expect it to stay in the nearest tissues, and not make it to the blood.

Which is not to say that this proves epsom salt baths work: this is the same result you'd expect if they don't work at all. Which is to say, the experiment would be expected to have the same result regardless of whether the hypothesis was accurate or not, which is to say, this was bad science. It tells us absolutely nothing. And it's especially frustrating because an experiment to test the actual claim would have been quite a bit easier -- measuring range of motion and muscle pliability is much cheaper than taking blood samples. A double-blind, randomized controlled trial would have been actually quite straightforward to carry out.

All of which is to say, I'm kinda thinking about buying 100 lbs of magnesium sulfide and finding myself some test subjects

[darkmaga-returns]

Microsoft co-founder Bill Gates is rolling out a plan to use Africans as guinea pigs for an expanded series of new genetically altering mRNA injections.

He calls them vaccines but we know they are not vaccines, at least not in the traditional meaning of the word. U.S. courts have even ruled that mRNA serums don’t qualify as vaccines.

The Covid vaccines, the first to use this technology, have been an unmitigated disaster.

But that hasn’t stopped Gates from pushing more of these gene-based jabs on the world.

The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation has announced a $40 million initiative to support the production of messenger mRNA vaccines in Africa.

Gates’ foundation claims this investment will address what it refers to as “vaccine inequities” exposed during the COVID-19 pandemic.

During that pandemic, African nations were often the last to receive Covid jabs. It worked to their benefit as fewer Africans died of Covid, per capita than Westerners.

Yet, the power of money never ceases and so Gates presses on in his efforts to vaccinate the world against every disease imaginable. And Africa will be ground zero for the plan.

Gates and his foundation hope to expand the testing of the mRNA injections on Africans before they are rolled out globally.

The funding will aid several manufacturers, including Senegal’s Pasteur Institute, in developing mRNA injections for the people of Africa.

[ruexsdrty]

omfg, i was playing fallout 4 and this happened: so i returned from the institute with virgil's serum from the fev lab but i lied, for fun, that i couldn't find it. virgil panicked, obviously, and i managed to convine him to kill himself before his condition gets worse.

that's not even the worst part. through each of the 3 dialogue options i made, danse was with me as my companion and he liked, admired and loved that 😭😭

virgil, at the end, told me to kill him myself and to make it quick and painless because he doesn't have the guts to kill himself. when i killed him, danse again loved that 😭

why is he like this?? 😭😭 but i still love him <3

oh, also, when i loaded the quicksave and chose to give virgil the serum, he disliked it- 💀

[ive-fallen]

Ok guys name one thing more romantic than betraying your entire team institution and life as you know it for one person you haven't really talked to in 70 years.

literally Steve is transported to a new millennium and loses everything he knows just to gain something back, his best friend, the person he had even when he had nothing. And then everyone's goes around and tells him that he can't be saved, it's a suicide mission, and he should just be shot on site. And Steve is a very smart, rational, calculated, military person who knows that the good of the people sometimes goes over the good of one person. BUT HE CAN'T LET HIM GO. HE CANNOT LET BUCKY GET AWAY FROM HIM AGAIN. SO HE GOES AGAINST THE LAW, HIS FRIENDS WHO HE TRUSTS, THE GOOD WORD OF PEOPLE ABOVE AND BENEATH HIM, AND GOES TO SAVE HIM ANYWAY.

And he's right. HE'S RIGHT. IT WASN'T HIM. IT WAS SOMETHING AND SOMEONE ELSE AND STEVE IS LITERALLY ALWAYS RIGHT WHY DO PEOPLE DOUBT HIM CONSTANTLY. Like pre-serum I get it like he was small he didn't look like he could be a man in charge, but post-serum he STILL can't get the people who matter to go against their nature and trust that he is doing good. AND THEN HE FUCKING LEAVES. "If you need us." THERE IS AN "US" ALREADY EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVEN'T HAD A REAL CONVERSATION IN 70 YEARS. HE LEAVES HIS ONLY TEAM AND DOESN'T COME PLAN ON COMING BACK. HE JUST BEAT A MAN ALMOST TO DEATH FOR HIM.

And then. Get this. He makes the choice to let Bucky be put back in cryo, not only because it's the best way to get Hydra out of his head, but it's because what Bucky thinks is best. And!!! He's got time. They both have a forever amount of time. It's basically "I will wait for you" EVEN AFTER WAITING FOR HIM FOR 20 YEARS (in his mind) AND THEN SOME.

AND!!!! I FORGOT. HE LEFT THE SHEILD BEHIND FOR HIM. THE SHEILD GUYS THE SHEILD. THE THING THAT MAKES HIM WORTHY. THE THING THAT BROUGHT HIM UP FROM A NOTHING SMALL GUY FROM BROOKLYN WHO COULDN'T EVER BE SOMETHING IN THE WORLD. THE COUNTRY HE STANDS FOR. THR MORALS HE FIGHTS FOR.

HE LEFT ALL OF IT BEHIND FOR BUCKY.