#The BlueBook

[soleildrawsstuff]

[carriesthewind]

"But this characterization confuses IA’s practices with traditional library lending of print books. IA does not perform the traditional functions of a library; it prepares derivatives of Publishers’ Works and delivers those derivatives to its users in full. That Section 108 allows libraries to make a small number of copies for preservation and replacement purposes does not mean that IA can prepare and distribute derivative works en masse and assert that it is simply performing the traditional functions of a library." Hachette Book Group, Inc. v. Internet Archive, No. 23-1260, at 31 (2nd Cir. Sept. 4, 2024).

[oakendesk]

Bluebook For Men Oct 1966

Norman Eastman

[beompercar]

nwjns blog!!! — daerin , dani, haerin

you’re my- favorite, flavor bubblegum!~ 🫧

[tsunami-watch]

Outrunning Karma

Main Story: 1 

Summary: V meets Nathan, the beginning of our adventure. 

Ships: (Nathan Bateman x F!V!Reader) 

Word count: 1767

“This could be big for you, don’t fuck it up.” Rogue’s warning rang in V’s mind as she entered the conference room.

The room was monochromatic with minimalist decor, nothing really clueing her in to who this “Nathan Bateman” guy was. No personal effects or awards, just some plant that looked fake in the corner and a geometric table with two chairs. She scans the room, finding nothing of note, just a security panel and a thermostat. She shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs, tapping the table under her fingers. She had gotten from Rouge was that this guy was “Unlike any other corpo.” and that could mean anything. She sighs and leans back in her chair as she looks up at the paneled ceiling, after a brief moment of pretending to play tic-tac-toe with its gridded pattern she’s startled by a low voice.

“Anything interesting up there?” She jumps slightly and turns quickly in her seat about to curse out whoever scared her when she’s face to face with him. She’s surprised by  the man in front of her, not a scrap of visible chrome on him. She starts up her scanner for a habitual scan, but before she can even get a glance at the info, he vanishes from her field of view in the blink of an eye, a sudden gust of wind whipping across her face from the movement. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nathan’s voice comes from around the corner. 

V instinctively flexes, Mantis blades springing into action, she takes a defensive stance, anticipating the worst.

“Woah, chill honey. Not gonna hurt you.” Before she could even react, her blades retracted, plates shuffling and closing back to their inactive state.

“What the- How did…?” She felt significantly less chill. 

“So, can we talk or are we gonna keep this back and forth going for a while longer?” Nathan asks. 

“I’m happy to talk, I don’t know why you vanished in the first place.” She stands up straight again and leans on the table, Nathan comes back around the corner.

“Trust me, you don’t want to randomly scan me like that, just might end up another fried corpse in a trash heap if you’re not careful.” Nathan stands in front of her and relaxes slightly. “Now go ahead.” She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask anything further as she proceeds to scan him. As she's skimming over his NCPD file she's surprised to see his middle name vanish from the file in real time, glancing back at him it appeared he had been following along her reading. 

"Much better." He mutters

"Hamlet? Really?" She chuckles. 

"We don't talk about it." He crosses his arms with a sigh.

“Noted.” She looks around the room again, trying to figure out what to say next. “So, what's the deal? You’re definitely not like the other CEOs of megacorps, pretty sure most of them don’t even look the mercs who do their dirty work in the eye, much less invite them into their freakishly minimalist space.” Nathan laughs.

“I guess you could say I’m not like the others.” He walks past her and sits down in one of the chairs, gesturing for her to do the same. She sits down, her eyes still trained on him. Rogue wasn’t wrong, he was different from any other corpo she’d ever met, Ditching the expensive restricting suits for a soft waffle-knit white sweater and some dark slacks, his head shaved, and a full well groomed beard. After a longer examination she could tell he didn’t have any optic enhancements either, somehow wiring the typical display functions of cyberoptics to the silver wireframe glasses perched upon his nose, leaving his eyes a natural deep brown, which was almost unnerving, she was so used to the bright artificial colors and slight glow that most had, seeing pure natural eyes, she understood what all those old poets meant by the eyes being the windows to the soul. Nathan gives her a slight smirk, leaning forward in his seat with interest. “Not every day I meet someone who knows nothing about me.” 

“Sorry, don't mean to bruise your ego.” She says leaning back in her chair, keeping a comfortable distance between them. 

“No, No…I quite like it. You have no expectations, you aren’t expecting some genius bullshit that blows your mind. It’s nice, no performance, no need to please or meet some expectation of grandeur.” Nathan also takes the time to examine her more closely. Sure, she was here to do a job for him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the view. It's not often someone who looks like that waltzes in, toned muscle and soft skin fading into the harsh telltale lines of combat cyberware, fire in her cybernetic eyes. He blinks lazily, taking a second to refocus. “Alright, the gig should be easy enough. I just need you to get something for me, and if necessary, zero the choom who has it.” She’s slightly taken aback in his casual choice of words but nods. 

“Okay, what exactly am I looking for?” She asks, her eyebrow raised slightly. 

 “Long story short, a Braindance. I got drunk at a party and a doll got a BD of a conversation I had, where I gave up some information I shouldn’t have. I can’t have that getting around, top secret shit.” She watches Nathan talk, as much as she was listening to the details of the gig she was amused by the way he talked with his hands, the expressions he makes, she couldn’t help but feel at ease with him, not something she had felt so easily with anyone in a while. Nathan had picked up on that feeling, her body language going from tense and on edge to seemingly relaxed. Her shoulders lowered, her head tilted to the side a bit, ankles crossed in front of her. She had let her guard down just a little bit, the corners of his lips turning up slightly in a smile. “It should be simple, get the BD, by whatever means necessary.”

“Seems easy enough, who am I looking for?” 

It was jarring to have information transferred without seeing the familiar blue flash from the optics of the transmitter. “Amethyst Bronte.” Her NCPD database file didn’t have anything notable to speak of besides a tie to The Mox, which was not unusual for a doll. 

“Sure it’s her? She seems remarkably…unremarkable in her records for an NC citizen.” V did another once over of the squeaky clean file. “Only offense was trespassing…to feed stray cats on private property. This upstanding citizen if NC’s ever known one, snagged a BD of you giving up classified info? Choom-”

Nathan quirked a brow at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Another tab appeared in V’s view, the ice blue backdrop and text looking oddly familiar, as she skimmed through the extensive file including images, video, and audio attached that did not seem like they were recorded with the subjects’ knowledge. This file painted a very different picture of Amethyst, a data broker who sold information to corps and gangs alike for the highest offer, the file even included insights into her personal life, broken family, little to no friends to speak of, just trying to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. “Thought you’d know better by now than to judge a BD by its title, choom.”

“Where- The fuck? How did you even get this much information? I know the place this was taken, there’s no cameras-” He silently stared, waiting patiently as realization dawned upon V. “No, no, they’re real? Those fucking, conspiracy theories about Tsunami?”

“Tsunami Watch.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair, expression only describable as with the pride and arrogance of a man who thought himself to be God. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from other corpos after all. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about all that, just enjoy the extra deets.” Nathan waves dismissively, she doesn't know how to feel about the sharp contrasts of emotion he’s made her feel in the short timespan she’s known him. She shakes it off with a hesitant nod, she needs to focus on the job, get through this and get home. That's what matters. 

“Sounds good, I’ll keep in touch.” V says calmly as she stands up and gets ready to go.

“Oh and V, be careful. You never know who's watching.” 

~ 

It took over a day to track down this Amethyst character even with the additional deets provided, despite having her life in a neat file she posed more of a challenge than V initially expected. When V finally found her, it was in amongst the pounding beats and sweaty bodies of the most popular club in Night City, Riot. As she entered the establishment she was greeted by the familiar sound and sight of Johnny’s engram flickering into existence, leaning against one of the lobby’s brutalist concrete walls.

“You should try taking me somewhere this nice sometime V.” He snarked with his usual tone of arrogance-riddled sarcasm. V rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him, pushing past as he flickered out of view. She decided to observe Amethyst from afar, having spotted her bright purple streaked hair through the crowd, chatting with someone as she moved to the beat. Calculating her next move, V carefully moved to the bar flagging down the bartender, watching out of the corner of her eye as Amethyst approached the opposite end of the bar. Perfect timing. 

“A shot of house tequila, neat, and whatever she’s drinking.” She said tilting her head in the direction of the other woman. The bartender silently nods in acknowledgement, pouring and setting the drink in front of her with the flourish of practiced efficiency before turning to get Amethyst's order. V knocks back the shot, letting the familiar feeling of the burning amber liquid ignite upon her tongue as it slides down her throat. It was only a moment before Amethyst approached, holding her own drink of a dreamy pink and purple hue.

“Thank you for the drink Miss V, I think I have something you’re looking for.” She smiled as she slid what looked to be a metallic cigarette case across the table, motioning for V to open it. V cocks an eyebrow at her before cautiously popping the case open to find a datastick and a handwritten note, a mix of shock and irritation crossing her face as she reads the note.

“You passed. Congrats. -N”

~

Masterlist

Credit: @winniethewife @burymesanti

[youvebeenlivingfictionalnbcyoa]

It'll Be Fun

Notes: This is the first post of the Nathan Bateman Choose Your Own Adventure for the Youvebeenlivingfictional 5k Follower Celebration! Just a heads up about a couple of things:

All CYOA paths are complete. If you hit the gif that says it's the end, it means that it's the end.

There is one (1) spicy chapter within one of the paths. If you cannot see the chapter, you need to update your content settings. Find the instructions to do that here.

This is not beta-read. As always.

The links to other paths are at the bottom of posts

If there are any broken links, please let me know!

Warnings: Cursing; angst; fluff

Summary: You’ve heard stories about how Bateman…Operates. You’ve only met him in person once, shortly after you’d been hired as Chief Knowledge Officer. It had been brief, perfunctory: Hi, how are you, happy to be here, love it, thanks for the money, enjoy your plane and helicopter ride back to your fucking remote, subterranean, in-fucking-sane facility you billionaire hermit whackadoo—

You had an idea of what this would be like, of course, but the reality is…Absolutely insane. You’re tired, you’re sweaty, and you are so, so happy that you fucking packed light. You shift your bag on your shoulder, glancing around. Follow the river. Follow the fucking river? You’re not a goddamn girl scout. You pull in a deep breath, then let out a relieved sigh as you finally spot the house…Up a rather steep incline. Son of a bitch.

You puff out an irritated breath as you bend forward a touch, resting your hands on your knees.

“Ohhhkay. Okay,” You mutter, straightening. Fuck, you hate team building. Hell, you hate it even more when it’s in such limited quantities of people—this way, there's nowhere to hide, you're easily missed. It’s barely half the C-suite: just you, Bateman, the CFO and the CMO.

It’ll be fun.

Bateman had slurred that across the phone on a status nearly two months ago. It’ll be fun.

The CFO and CMO had signed on enthusiastically; you’d been a little more hesitant to speak up, but had reluctantly agreed—and been met by an cheery, Yeaaah! from Bateman. Maybe that should’ve spurred you to be just a touch more excited, but you’ve heard stories about how Bateman…Operates. You’ve only met him in person once, shortly after you’d been hired as Chief Knowledge Officer. It had been brief, perfunctory: Hi, how are you, happy to be here, love it, thanks for the money, enjoy your plane and helicopter ride back to your fucking remote, subterranean, in-fucking-sane facility you billionaire hermit whackadoo—

Beyond that, you’ve hardly interacted with him outside of meetings, briefings, emails, what have you. You do a good job. You get your shit done. He doesn’t call you out because you've never given him a reason to.

You huff softly as you begin a long hike up the fairly steep incline. Alright. Pace yourself. No need to fuck your knees or ankles or anything up right before you meet your boss—

You wince as your foot slips, your knee skimming against a sharp rock. You groan, looking down and eyeing the throbbing spot. It hasn’t torn your leggings, but you’re willing to bet the skin’s a little torn under there. Damnit. You push on, righting your footing. Come on. Arrive in one piece. You don’t want the fricking sun to go down before you get there, and you really don’t want them to have to come looking for you.

(Though if you’re being honest, you’re not sure that Bateman would go out of his way to send out the search party. You can see the article on Wired now—BlueBook Chief Knowledge Officer Gets Eaten By Bear On the Way to Corporate Weekend Retreat. Said Bateman, “She knew she’d have a hike through challenging terrain. She should’ve brought her bear repellent. Frankly, we can’t tolerate that kind of narrow-minded unpreparedness at BlueBook. We’re already looking to hire her replacement. Our front-runner has climbed Everest.”)

You snort to yourself at the thought. You can practically hear Bateman saying it—with that damnable smug curl to his lips; you can see his hand drawing out of his pocket to adjust his glasses; to pass his hand over his closely shaved head, his palm loosing a rasping little shush against his cropped hair; his shoulder shrugging dismissively before he impatiently waves the reporter on to their next question. Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t put it past him. You’re only useful to Nathan as long as you suit his needs. You’re certain that if your visions for the company didn’t align with his, if you didn’t fall in line with what he wants for BlueBook, he’d drop you without a second thought. 

It would only be right, of course. It’s his company, not yours. 

You come to another stop once you reach the top of the hill, bracing your hands on your lower back and giving it a bit of a stretch. Fuck. You need a shower. A long, hot shower. You straighten up, and are set to go full steam ahead to Bateman’s when you hear your name called. You go still, dread trickling into your chest, your eyes squeezing shut. Maybe you can pretend you didn’t hear him? 

But you’re not on some crowded city street, or office hall, and you’ve stilled for too long. You turn, slapping on a smile at the sight of the CFO, William Ellis, at the bottom of the steep hill. You force a smile, raising a hand to wave. You’re fully intent on turning back around and heading toward the house, but he calls out, “Mind giving me a hand with my bags?” 

Yes, you do mind. You’re not a fucking bellhop. You don’t want to help him with his bags—you don’t even want to be here. You want to stomp back to that field and camp out until that helicopter comes back to take you home. 

Instead, you turn around, measuring and bracing your steps as you trudge back down the hill. 

-- 

“Damn good luck running into you.” 

It's the third time he says it, though he’s run out of breath more and more as he did. Ellis is a short, stout Englishman. His typically fair, clear skin is ruddy and red from exertion. It probably doesn’t help that his voice seems to come from his nose, and is pushed out of the narrow purse of his lips with his rarefied Oxbridge snobbishness. “Sure,” Is all you offer now. The first time, you’d said Isn’t it; the second, you’d chuckled lightly, offered, Guess so. Maybe if your responses become monosyllabic, he wouldn’t bother. You shift your bag on your shoulder, moving Ellis’ duffle bag from one hand to the other as you deftly avoided the rock that you’d slipped on before.

“Nice of Bateman to have us along,” He adds. 

“Yep.”  

“Don’t get to see much of the old sport these days.” 

The Old Sport. Christ. This man is one off-white jacket, gin rickey, and Dead Man’s float away from being an F. Scott Fitzgerald character.

“Well, that’ll happen,” Is all you offered in turn. You fight the urge to drop William’s duffel on the doorstep as you approached the house. Instead, you still, watching William approach and draw his phone out to check the instructions. 

“Now let’s see…” He mutters. “The instructions did say that the…Keycard pad was around here…Somewhere…” 

“William Ellis.”

You glance over as a robotic voice draws your attention to a keypad.  It's just another moment before it instructs:

“Please approach the console and face the screen.”

William wanders closer, eyes still set on his phone. You bite your lip, choking down a laugh as a light flashes, taking a picture of the top of William’s head. 

“Take your keycard.” 

You step closer as William took his, and the same robotic voice said your name. You step in front of the camera, forcing your face into a neutral expression. 

“You ought to smile a bit,” William chuckles. You tighten your hands on the straps of his duffel as irritation pulses through you. You have half a mind to drop this duffel bag right on his foot—knowing full well that his work and personal laptops are in here. Instead, you reach out, taking the card from the slot. 

“You may now enter the residence.” 

William doesn’t hold the door open for you. He doesn’t even gesture for you to be the first one in. You’ve already had enough of this man’s shit—and you haven’t even seen Bateman, or the CMO. You don’t want to see them in this state anyway. The CMO, Dan Marshall, is one of your better workplace friends. And Bateman—well. Either way, you’re not sure you’re ready to see him yet, for all of the hell he’s already put you through with this little hike. 

“So? Shall we?” William nods down the hall. 

Shall you? 

Go With William to Find Nathan and Dan

Go Off On Your Own and Find Your Room 

[usnatarchives]

Are they out there? 👽🛸

They are out there, or so we’ve often wondered. A mystery spanning decades, UFOs have captured the imaginations of skeptics and believers alike.

The subject matter feels like it’s ripped straight from a sci-fi movie, but it’s real and documented, buried deep within the vaults of the U.S. National Archives, under the moniker Project Blue Book.

Launched in 1952, Project Blue Book was a systematic study of unidentified flying object (UFO) reports conducted by the United States Air Force. Its mission was simple yet profound: investigate sightings of unidentified flying objects to determine their impact on national security.

Over a period of 17 years, Project Blue Book compiled reports of 12,1618 UFO sightings or related events. Their conclusion in 1969 was rated anticlimactic. The official stance? No UFO reported, investigated, and evaluated by the Air Force was an indication of threat to our national security.

Will we ever know if “they” are truly out there? The answer might not be evident but that doesn’t mean you can’t hunt for clues in our Catalog!

Further Reading:

Project BLUE BOOK - Unidentified Flying Objects

Do Records Show Proof of UFOs?

Featured Document Display: 50 Years Ago: Government Stops Investigating UFOs

The Roswell Reports: What crashed in the desert?

[deathmchandsome]

"Beautiful women near you are holding swords threateningly"

[thessaliah]

I really don’t want to see anyone claiming Daybit talked bad against his friends due to that bait scene with Guda. He shows complete understanding of Kirschtaria here. In fact, he says he wishes to be fulfilled as him, correcting Kadoc about how he never moved his dying body (he knew of Kirschtaria’s condition) based on getting results, but of a matter of “will” to complete his order to the end.

This is one of the two biggest clues he’s the mysterious David Bluebook too. Since that was his sheer motivation to keep him going although there was no salvation for him to be found.

[z00r0p4]

anyway u know that scene at the beginning of cars where mcqueen ties the race w his tongue cuz like all his tires blew out n shit bc he's a fucking idiot? yeah? that's me but w the end of my college career

[soleildrawsstuff]

Who knew that she would find comfort in the embrace of a fellow enemy?

[feeshies]

*trying to do legal research for my memo*

"Dying Declaration" would be a good name for a gothic metal band for lawyers

[oakendesk]

Bluebook Jan 1956

Larry Harris

[tsunami-watch]

Name: Nathan Hamlet Bateman

Age: 30

Occupation/Association: Founder and CEO of BlueBook | Corporate

Status: Alive

Short Bio/Backstory:  

Nathan was born and raised in Night City, Grew up with a mix of corpo and street influences. He was always very intelligent and is one of the few people in Night City to have an education. After creating BlueBook and quickly surpassing, and absorbing, Tsunami Defense Systems, he found himself a very popular name, and yet he wasn't nearly as well known as some of the other leaders in the industry, he uses his anonymity to his advantage, Keeping very little of his personal life out there, and keeping himself a mystery to the public, preferring to let others speak publicly for the company.

He has very minimal cyberware, practically a ‘ganic, only a cyberdeck and sandy both developed/altered by himself. Typical cyberoptic functions are wired to his glasses, (rightfully) does not believe in such a thing as bulletproof software security but still has an impressive array of protections for himself such as Anti-Personnel Black ICE. 

some wonder if his reluctance to be known in the city is really for the best, only those closest to him know him as he is. many assume he is a narcissistic, self focused man with a god complex, is that all an act or is he just as self centered as the other corpos? only time will tell.

Iconic Weapon/Item: Deus Ex Machina (Cyberdeck): if you have a good relationship with him and run a netrunner build (high Intelligence attribute), he’ll make you a deck, same model as his own. Iconic modifier: Reduces/Eliminates enemy quickhack resistance, preinstalled with his custom Anti-Personnel Black ICE that automatically consumes a certain amount of RAM to inflict lethal damage on enemy netrunners attempting to quickhack V.

Masterlist:

[daisywords]

.

[taroism]

I have a hyein version bluebook and I want either binky bong or another bluebook and I'm impatient af so I'm obviously gonna get a bluebook and your vote was bluebook too🫦🫦🫦

Slay my choice is always the best me the top 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋