#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 आरोप…

[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.

[covid-safer-hotties]

You need a grippy sock vacation for thinking that a fucking cold needs this much worrying about.

Grow up and get a fucking life

Objective brain injury and associated cognitive impairment were noted as long as 1 year after infection with SARS-CoV-2.

Some patients with acute COVID-19 develop encephalitis and associated cognitive deficits. In addition, even among people with mild acute COVID-19, residual brain damage has been reported: Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) from before and after COVID-19 showed gray matter loss that was not seen in matched control patients who didn't have COVID-19 (NEJM JW Gen Med Jun 1 2022 and Nature 2022; 604:697), and objective tests of cognition showed deficits that lasted at least 1 year after acute illness (NEJM JW Gen Med Mar 15 2024 and N Engl J Med 2024; 390:806).

In a multi-institutional U.K. study, researchers followed 351 people who had been hospitalized for acute COVID-19 (with or without neurological findings) and 3000 matched controls who didn't have COVID-19. All patients were assessed with MRI, subjective reports of cognition, formal cognitive testing, and serum markers of injury to neurons and astrocytes. Compared with controls, post–COVID-19 patients were more likely to have global cognitive deficits (subjective and objective), reduced volumes in several brain regions, and multiple serum markers of neuronal and astrocyte injury. Risk for neurocognitive sequelae was greater in patients with more-severe initial infections, postacute psychiatric symptoms, and encephalopathy during acute COVID-19. Encouragingly, longitudinal follow-up in 106 patients revealed a trend toward recovery.

"Just a cold"

[emwallas176]

Just finished episode 3x19 (Memoria) and I have a lot of thoughts…

(Firstly, season three will just NOT give Lex a break)

Let’s recap the ep together:

- Lex agrees to have a shady scientist run experiments on him to try and regain the seven weeks he lost during his “psychotic break”

- Clark confronts him and tells him to stop (now I get Clark is concerned about his secret coming out but what the hell. Lex isn’t even trying to dig up anything about Clark at the moment. He lost seven weeks! Of vital memories! Including the fact that his own father drugged him and caused a psychotic break and locked him up in an institution and performed highly dangerous electroshock therapy on him. Clearly Lionel is a threat to Lex’s safety. And the most mind boggling part is that Clark knows all of this! Don’t you think that Lex deserves to know?? Don’t you think that not telling him is actually putting him in danger?? How is Clark justifying that with himself?? Even if he was concerned about Lex knowing his secret. Which I fully believe that Belle Reeve showed that Lex would one hundred percent keep his secret and protect him but I digress. Clark doesn’t have to tell him that bit. If he just told Lex about everything else then he wouldn’t have to go through with the procedure anymore. But he doesn’t. So Lex continues with the experiments)

- anyway, Lex has a psychotic break (again) and remembers repressed memories about his brother Julian who died when he was a baby and

SPOILERS

- turns out Lex’s mother was so terrified after witnessing how Lionel treated Lex (and was probably suffering from post-partum depression) that she goes and kills her son… horrible

- then twelve year old Lex witnesses this and covers for his mom, taking the blame! And suffering Lionel’s misplaced wrath for the next ten years (also since Lex called it a repressed memory during his confrontation with Lionel does that mean that for all these years he truly believed he killed his brother??? Bc if so….)

- also let’s not forget to mention that after getting into it with Clark Lex ends up being the one to save him from the lab after Clark is stuck in a vat of kryptonite (and is Lex thanked? No. Clark accuses Lex of becoming his father. Does he apologize for this? No. Instead he asks Lex why his father hates him so much. Clark Kent you are on thin ice young man.)

* special reminder that the episode before this while under Chloe’s truth serum, Lex admitted that the one thing he wants more than anything is his father to love him. Just in case that provides any context that absolutely breaks your heart.

* also ALSO no one even came to his fucking birthday party!!

I’m burning this whole place to the ground I swear to god. Smallville doesn’t deserve nice things. I’m going to keep Lex right here next to me until they learn to treat him better. IS THIS YOUR VILLAIN? Be fucking fr. You wish he was the villain. You stain his name to try and hide the fact that this boy has more morals and goodness inside of him than you know what to do with. I’m losing my mind.

[thevibraniumveterans]

For some reason, I rewatched Black Widow (2021) last night, and earlier today, I saw some gifs of the moment in CACW where Steve and Sam question a captive Bucky.

I feel like I’m a bit slow on realizing this, but it should already have been clear, but I found an interesting connection between both, and it’s not the whole Sokovia Accords thing, it’s not.

So in Black Widow, several allusions are made to the fact that the Widows — lethal young women, all of them — can change the world on command. Alexei addresses his adoptive daughters on their way “home”:

“And Natasha, not just a spy, not just toppling regimes, destroying empires from within, but an Avenger.”

Later on, Natasha faces Dreykov, the brutal leader of the Red Room where she grew up. He tells her:

“These world leaders, these great men, they answer to me and my widows. Look at them. These girls were trash. They are thrown out into the street. I recycle the trash. And I give them purpose. I give them a life. It’s my network of widows that help me control the scales of power. One command, the oil and stock markets crumble. One command, and a quarter of the planet will starve. My widows can start and end wars. They can make and break kings.”

The idea here is that the Red Room’s collection of widows are able to, at a moment’s notice, reshape the world to Dreykov’s liking.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

We rewind back a few years, both chronologically speaking and in release date order, to Captain America: Civil War (2016). Bucky has his metal arm in a vice, and Sam and Steve want answers from him:

“What did I do?”

“Enough.”

“Oh, God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?”

“I don't know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup... the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than "I don't know."”

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?”

“Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier.”

“Who were they?”

“Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum.”

“They all turn out like you?”

“Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?”

“Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.”

“They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight... infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night, you'd never see them coming.”

The descriptions of what the Widows and the Soldiers do seem to match up, they do more or less the same thing, with more or less the same objectives.

In Black Widow, Melina makes reference to HYDRA’s pet project:

“We infiltrated the North Institute in Ohio. It was a front for S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists. Actually, it was Hydra scientists at that time. In conjunction with the Winter Soldier project, they had dissected and deconstructed the human brain to create the first and only cellular blueprint of the basal ganglia.”

This tells us that the Red Room and HYDRA worked closely with one another, and there’s also a hint of this in CACW when Sharon and Natasha ambush a brainwashed Bucky at an eatery. Not even a minute into the altercation, Natasha tries to bring Bucky down using her signature move but his size prevents her from doing that. He slams her down backwards onto a table, his metal hand around her throat. Natasha grabs hold of his wrist and forces the following words out:

“You could at least recognize me.”

Which indicates at some point in the past, Natasha and Bucky — as a Widow and a Soldier, respectively — may have either worked together or even gone up against each other. Nat clearly remembers him, but in his single-minded drive to accomplish his mission, he does not indicate any frame of reference for this supposed past encounter. (Edit: Nat and Bucky (as the Winter Soldier) did fight in CATWS. But that’s not the point.)

It seems that the Widows and the Soldiers were indeed highly trained in espionage, infiltration, spying, assassination. They were able to — on command — change the world at the drop of a hat.

If they truly had collaborated, the effects of their joint efforts would have been devastating, had both the Red Room’s Black Widow program and HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program not been snuffed out for good.

[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"

[biblioflyer]

Captain America as an aspirational figure (Cap 4 spoilers)

Don't believe the anti-hype, this is an enjoyable film that has something to say. If you want my no spoilers review, click here.

Spoilers after the jump.

As I say in the no spoilers view, it became clearer to me after watching the film why Disney chose to rename Cap 4 from New World Order to Brave New World. It wasn't a craven sensitivity to conspiracy theorists. Maybe it started that way, I don't pretend to know, but this is a title that better fits the film that was made because despite the dystopian allusion, this film ends on a hopeful note. The dystopian reference is subverted because unlike Secret Invasion, the Marvel world ends just a teensy bit more just than it started.

Which I think is appropriate for a Captain America film. There are ahem quite a few reasons that people might be down on America, the country, institutions, and people at this moment in time and there will be new, different reasons by the time I wake up tomorrow and there probably will be in ten years, twenty. Countries tend to be deeply flawed places, some are just better at keeping their messiness out of the international eye and flawed is a thing that exists on a spectrum of course.

But the United States is a place that has also very intentionally centered a narrative of continual improvement. Long arcs of history bending towards justice are in our mythological DNA. The US is a place that believes or believed at least that the future will always be better, fairer, more prosperous etc. but there is a certain irony in that we celebrate our successes at overcoming our worse natures: the Civil War, the end of Jim Crow etc. but struggle to recognize when the work is only half done.

Isaiah Bradley is a great symbol of this. He fought for his country and was rewarded for it by being unpersoned, imprisoned, experimented on, tortured, but ultimately released and eventually Sam Wilson is able to persuade him that change has come and the country that did these things to Bradley is no more. We can quibble with the accuracy of this in the broader sense: the secretive forces in play in Falcon and the Winter Soldier and Secret Invasion are manifestations of a system still riddled with people who believe virtue is a luxury and blow back is a thing to be managed rather than anticipated and avoided through prudence.

But thanks to Sam's intervention, Isaiah comes out of the shadows and is embraced as the forgotten Captain America. A missing link in the chain of succession and someone who embodied not just the supersoldier serum but embodied the virtues of Captain America in his willingness to defy orders to save his team in Korea.

And this is ultimately what it comes back to: Captain America works with the state but he isn't a representation of the state. Captain America represents who we aspire to be.

In Bucky's own words, this is why Steve passed the mantle to Sam. Superhumans like Steve and Bucky can fight for people, but Sam puts his life on the line in a much more fundamental way every time he suits up. He is an embodiment of courage and conviction in a way that Steve and Bucky aspire to be, but ultimately they are gods among men. When everyday people face hard choices, it is easy to tell yourself that you don't have to be the best version of yourself if the avatars of courage and conviction are "enhanced" but if Sam can and will dedicate himself to doing his best despite the personal risks and consequences, where are your excuses now?

So what values does Sam represent as Captain America, as expressed in this film?

People over Things

In a subtle nod to the sort of principled rebelliousness that got Bradley thrown into a black site, Sam refuses to prioritize chasing the Macguffin over saving hostages. Sam also doesn't simply slaughter every bad guy he comes across. At various points he uses nonlethal force such as when his drones flank and disable hostage takers. This scene might be worth rewatching because it may be that some of the mercenaries presumed dead might have merely sustained grievous but not immediately lethal wounds.

Redemption is Possible

While telegraphed as a startling and authoritarian turn, the election of "Thunderbolt" Ross, the Hulk Hunter, to the Presidency is not what it seems. This is a much older Ross, chastened by a near death experience and the fallout of his authoritarian instincts. This Ross is introspective and genuinely trying to find a way to reconcile what I would assume is a reflexive fear and suspicion of enhanced humans with the recognition over a long career that these are people, many of them are good, and you should have them on your side if you can. He appears genuinely troubled by having thrown Sam et al. in the Raft.

Not apologetic, I think Ross understands his motives and what he knew about the situation in the "Civil War" era and sees it as a mistake to be remedied rather than something that no decent person would have done. As I've discussed a few times in the past, the way you organize a society that contains superhumans and how you regulate the use of powers in a fair and equitable way quickly leads to a lot of troubling places once you take these exercises out of the sterility of the Platonic realm and apply them to a chaotic world where impulsive decisions need to be made in conditions of limited knowledge.

What matters here is that Ross IS reflective and wants to use the powers of the Presidency to try to approach world affairs in a less might makes right fashion. Ultimately, whether he really believes it or not, Sam - lacking any better options - uses Ross' desire to reconcile with his daughter and become more humane to de-Hulk him.

Later when Sam visits Ross on The Raft, you'd probably forgive him for being extra petty. After all, the irony is thick: Ross is in the prison he built, the prison he tried to lock Sam away in. Yet Sam chooses to let Ross acknowledge the poetic justice and praises Ross for his honorable approach to the aftermath of his rampage: namely resigning the Presidency and allowing himself to be incarcerated.

Sam Wilson might have wanted to rub salt in Ross' wounds, but it wouldn't be becoming of a Captain America.

Captain America represents the self discipline of living virtuously. Indulging the instinct for pettiness is a luxury for other people with lighter responsibilities, and ideally his example challenges even them to reconsider whether a tongue lashing is restorative justice or if its just punitive.

Restorative Justice

Sam's relationship with Isaiah Bradley is in many ways a metaphor for justice. Bradley is someone who specifically was wrongfully imprisoned and more broadly can stand in for the legacy of prejudice. Sam can't go back in time and undo the injustices and cruelties that happened to Isaiah but he can use his influence to change Isaiah's contemporary life: bringing him out of the shadows and ensuring both his achievements and struggles are known.

We have to know about and acknowledge acts of immorality in order to prevent them. Sam does not ask anyone to forget about or look upon Steve Rogers differently, Sam does not view glory and respect in zero sum terms. Adding another name to the legacy of Captain America adds to the mythos and strengthens it by challenging it rather than undermining it by adding a tragic chapter to the story.

Sam ensuring Bradley is invited to the White House does not erase the dishonorable stain of what the US government did to him and Bradley is content to be a self made man when it comes to dignity: he's lived a long time in anonymity and has only suffered from attention. What Sam wants is for other people to see Isaiah as he does and to be afforded to be seen as worthy of recognition and dignity. This is also a coy reference to the tendency to find precedents for our modern "firsts" in history. Sam may be the first official Black Captain America but Bradley was Captain America in all but name and embodied not just the power but the ideals.

Power, Presentation, Accountability

We see Sam working with the US government in this film. He continues to seem to be a sort of independent security contractor rather than firmly embedded in the chain of command. So he is simultaneously acknowledging that there is a blurry grey zone between being a fully autonomous actor and placing oneself fully under someone else's control.

There was a lot of what I think was unfair flak thrown at the X-Men Animated Series Steve for seeming to stand in Rogue's way and approaching justice for Genosha in a more methodical and legalistic way. Working within institutions is a choice with tradeoffs, not the only legitimate way to be a person of conscience acting in the world, but it is important to understand what Cap gains and what Cap loses by working inside the state and what Rogue gains and loses by going rogue. Ba dum tiss.

Personally I think Sam's relationship with institutional power makes sense here. Working with the US government but not in the chain of command means that he gains access to the resources of the government, legally he is not a vigilante, but at the same time he does not have to allow them to make him violate his conscience. This is best reflected in his choice to save the hostages in the opening sequence rather than chase after the Macguffin.

In the context of a world with superheroes, working with the state can be viewed in transactional terms. It solves a lot of problems but of course it also creates new ones. Critically, it is a performance of accountability. In a world where people wield godlike power, working with the state at least creates the pretense that people without powers are not fully and completely living in a might makes right world.

On the other hand, supers who work outside the institutions like the X-Men or Cap's faction of the Avengers post Civil War, invite confusion between who is a superhero and who is a supervillain. The people of Harlem might be forgiven if they hadn't been entirely sure who they were supposed to be rooting for when Hulk and Abomination came to blows.

Sabra, Real World Grief, and Changing the Subject

There's probably a lot to say about rewriting Sabra. It was a safe choice and its one I sympathize with. At this point the Marvel Cinematic Universe is probably not creatively fit enough to tackle the character with any amount of nuance and there would be an incredible amount of pressure to present her as an uncomplicated hero or an unsympathetic villain.

Its probably for the best that Captain America focuses on America because that's where the audience at least is familiar enough with the history and symbolism that maybe, just maybe the film can avoid being accused of excessively flattening the American history and symbolism it plays with.

The rumored cuts and rewrites have resulted in a relatively coherent movie with a fairly uncomplicated moral message without feeling too shallow or naive, whereas a more comic accurate Sabra would inevitably wind up being a bumper sticker representing either Disney's craven selling out to avoid courting controversy or Disney's craven selling out to avoid courting controversy.

The result was also a forgettable character who probably could have just been cut and have her parts re-assigned to Xosha Roquemore's Leila Taylor who winds up not having a whole lot to do in this cut of the film. Which is unfortunate, I do wonder if there was a longer runtime cut with a meatier part for Tayor but I wouldn't necessarily want a longer film, I just think Disney needs to learn to work better within the constraints of a shorter run time and realizing when one character is better than two is part of that: to the gnashing teeth and consternation of every book fan who has seen their beloved novel(s) adapted for TV and film....

Action!

The one place where the film stumbles is that I find the action sequences where Mackie is fully suited up to be kind of tedious. The way he manhandles non-enhanced humans establishes just how skilled he is but the physics of the shield - as it was with Steve - are pretty chaotic and nonsensical. The suit itself also seems to cross over into Ironman territory with how much abuse it allows Sam to handle. The kinetic energy absorbing wings help handwave away some of the obvious problems with what Sam's body is experiencing in the film but it also feels like a copout in a film that otherwise emphasizes that he doesn't have superpowers. Ironman didn't have superpowers either, but he did have power suits and at that point, it feels like splitting a hair.

The most interesting sequence for me was Mackie and Esposito going to hand to hand to axe. That felt like it had real stakes, although the kevlar t-shirt reveal later on again seemed to slightly undermine the idea that Sam is way more vulnerable than Steve ever was while admittedly being necessary for him to be ready to fight later in the film without a long hospital stay and physical therapy. Those sorts of consequences are for Joaquin, playing the role of Sam's robin. The character who can be credibly threatened because the audience knows he doesn't have a multi-picture deal.

I kid, I kid. I know better than to expect real stakes from Marvel and I was surprised that this film did at times feel like it had real stakes. So kudos to that.

All in all, it makes me feel more intrigued and confident about whatever comes next for the MCU. I think its finding its footing and rumors of reshoots and uninspired test audience responses should be celebrated not fretted over, because it seems like the powers that be have lost some of their hubris and are retooling for the better.

[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.

[hanasnx]

⊹₊⟡⋆ SABLE!READER

" you keep your distance via the system of touch / i'm lost in admiration, could i need you this much? "

જ⁀➴ ‪‪❤︎‬ love interest. peter parker

bg. the version of silver sable in marvel’s spider-man is the head of a hirable mercenary company, paid to guard a certain person of interest. she is standoffish and slow to trust, relying on herself to get the job done. she takes pride in her work, but has a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later.

featured in! 📂

" something happens and i'm head over heels / ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart "

descrip. sable!reader takes inspiration from your predecessor. hardened by your training and a variant of the super-soldier serum, you can take a punch and dish out punishment. years of your profession have made you prepared for battle, and think on your feet. both agile in body and mind, you fortify with duel blasters on your thigh holsters. however, your tough exterior gradually melts when your initial suspect spider-man is made consultant for your institution. working together as colleagues, you learn to trust and care for the hero. . .

" and this is my four leaf clover / i'm on the line, one open mind / this is my four leaf clover "

[xagentsofpandorax]

CASE FILE #78643

[   michael b jordan,  bisexual, cismale + he/him,  supersonic speed]  dominic jackson  is  a chaotic neutral agent  of  pandora  selected  for  their  criminal background in both thievery and arms dealing  and  underwent  the  top-secret  mutation  process.  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  thirty-nine year  old  originally  from  chicago, illinois  is  deceased  or  missing.  however,  in  atlantis,  they  are  now  known  as  nitro  of  greed after  developing  the  ability  to  move at transcendent speeds for both retrieval and combat.  the  agent  has  been  with  pandora  for  thirteen years and  is  trusted  for  being  charismatic &  confident,  but  once  reprimanded  for  being  impulsive &  covetous. 

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Name: Dominic Jackson [REDACTED]

Calsign: Nitro

Age: Thirty-Nine

Height: 6'3

Birthplace: Chicago Illinois [REDACTED]

Notes: We had kept our eye on Nitro because he is the reckless third son of the notorious crime boss known as [REDACTED] that would pull elaborate jobs in the hopes to gain his father's attention. Though he had knowledge in a good portion of his father's business, we witnessed him participating in larceny and armed robbery enough times to know that we could use someone like him at the institution. And though he was skeptical about us at first, the threat of going to life in prison was enough to convince him to join us.

Additional Notes: Friction seems to be a concern for Agent Nitro as if he runs fast enough, he generates enough heat with his body that it can potentially burn the clothes on his skin - primarily on his feet. Special precautions are needed when developing his uniform to ensure he doesn't spontaneously combust when he runs. .

SKILLSET

After observing Agent Nitro for over a decade, we have come to observe that he has proficiency in marksmanship, athletics, persuasion, deception as well as acrobatics & invasion. He also appears to have expertise in sleight of hand, vehicular operations & perception, something that had been noted prior to recruitment.

We do, however, have to note that he seems to need more practice in Tactical Foresight as well as Environmental Adaptation as we believe that he is substandard at them.

POWERS

After the serum was given to the agent, we have found that Agent Nitro is able to run at speeds far faster than any human is capable of. At first, he was only able to achieve speeds of just over 200 miles per hour, but after more and more practice and the more he had pushed himself, he has managed to achieve speeds in the quadruple digits.

It seems that Agent Nitro's legs aren't the only thing that's fast, either. He can even throw punches and even thrown weapons at immeasurable speeds, making him absolutely lethal - because he's faster than a bullet, and you're dead before you even see a lethal hit coming.

It does seem to take a lot out of Nitro to move at supersonic speeds, and the more he uses his powers in the field, the more he seems to need to sleep when he returns. Because of this, we recommend that Nitro has to wait at least a week between missions to ensure that he is able to maintain the peak performance we expect of him. Failure to do so could result in Nitro "running out of juice" and become compromised.

BACKGROUND

[REDACTED]