#to have access to the goddamn nuclear codes

[drop-dead-dropout]

oh my god no shut up that is not the point. this is about who should be allowed to RUN THE ENTIRE GODDAMN FUCKING COUNTRY not that we should, like— murder old people?? what do you think the word "eugenics" means?????

[monsterblogging]

So I rewatched Pacific Rim: The Black to refresh myself on how bad it was, and once again I am just kind of in awe at how god-awful it is.

The Black very literally takes the magic out of Pacific Rim. You know how "drift hangover" refers to a persistent psychic connection between pilot and jaeger? Welp, here "drift hangover" is used to refer to a headache after drifting. Ghost drifting (you know, when pilots get psychic with each other) is turned into ghost piloting, which is when a pilot drifts with the memory of another pilot. Like, it's understandable if most people don't clock the mysticism and animism underpinning Guillermo del Toro's vision of Pacific Rim, but this is a very deliberate effort to erase where humans can just have funky psychic shit happen to them sometimes.

The Black doesn't really seem to understand how drifting works. Two characters have a heated argument without falling out of alignment. Another character functionally has a mind-reading ray. There's no real comprehension of what drift compatibility is and how it works.

The child soldiers are younger than ever. Taylor looks like he was maybe twelve at most when he was taking his pilot's test. Like. Actual twelve year olds are getting certified as jaeger pilots in this world. And this is framed as a good and desirable thing. Literally what the fuck.

The Black calls Horizon Brave "Horizon Bravo," and claims it's a Mark IV jaeger. If you have literally any access to any information about Horizon Brave at all, you know it's a Mark I jaeger.

The jaeger piloted by the children (Atlas Destroyer) is claimed to be a Mark III jaeger, yet uses the type of fuel cells introduced in Uprising. Like it was a whole fucking plot point that Lady Danger was a nuclear jaeger. Literally all they would've had to do was make Atlas Destroyer a Mark VI. It would have been fine.

Atlas Destroyer has a bunch of features Mark IIIs definitely didn't have. Remember how Raleigh and Yancy needed a crew to help them into their drivesuits? Atlas Destroyer just automatically tosses 'em on itself. Remember how Lady Danger's AI mostly just gave status updates? Atlas Destroyer's AI holds entire conversations. Again, you could've just made it a Mark VI, show.

And speaking of Atlas Destroyer's AI, for some goddamn reason the PPDC gave her an emotion chip. Because it's not hard enough to be a pilot already, now your jaeger gets to have anxiety.

The Black claims that Trespasser "smashed the Australian wall in the first attack." This is wrong on every conceivable level. Trespasser attacked San Francisco in the first attack, in 2013. The first kaiju to attack Sydney was Scissure, in 2014. The kaiju what smashed the wall was Mutavore, in 2025.

There is one queer-coded character. He is murdered in gory fashion.

There is one Indigenous-coded character who studies kaiju and their biology. He is depicted being into New Agey woo and wrongly believing that the kaiju he raised can love him. He dies when one of his kaiju eats him.

A major antagonist is depicted as a ruthless man who will kidnap, mindwipe, exploit, and even murder children. Then the show attempts to give him a redemption arc and we're supposed to actually care.

The PPDC refused to let the children's father retrieve them and the other survivors left behind in "the Black." (Read: Australia after the PPDC literally bombed it from space after a bunch of breaches started opening all over it.) Yeah, the PPDC can bomb an entire continent from space, but they can't spare a goddamn rescue helicopter.

Despite all of this and the aforementioned child soldiers, the PPDC is framed as the good guys and the only respite from the horrors of the Black; getting to the Sydney shatterdome is an unambiguously happy ending.

Early on we're lead to think that the PPDC might be getting its hands dirty with kaiju genetic experiments/bioweapon development. Later on we learn that it's the local kaiju cultists doing it. Now come on, which suspect actually makes sense here; the PPDC who can afford to build a killsat, or the kaiju cultists who apparently can't even afford a sterile room to perform a blood transfusion in?

The kaiju cultists are pretty obviously inspired by far right conspiracy theories about evil cults, rather than the actual behaviors of actual cults.

The kaiju sisters recruit by kidnapping women, turning them into kaiju hybrids, and forcing them into their hivemind. For some reason they kill all men. Despite this they are really obsessed with the idea that the half-kaiju smol, who for all appearances is a boy, is going to be their kaiju messiah. It really doesn't make sense, but then again, what can we expect from a slapdash job of far right conspiracy theories?

By the way, this is the PPDC banner literally hanging from the PPDC training center, in the show that is very firm in insisting that THE PPDC IS THE GOOD GUYS WHO PROTECT YOU:

[mrs-johansson]

Chapter 5: Avengers: Age of Ultron - Two Ghosts

Part 4:

Then there was a screeching noise, like microphone feedback, causing everyone to cover their ears. We let our hands down as it faded, and Dad pulled out his control device. A heavily damaged Iron Legion suit stumbled into the room.

“Worthy... No, how could you be worthy? You're all killers,” the suit spoke. It was a very different voice than what they usually have. “Stark,” Steve said with a tense voice. “Jarvis.”

“I'm sorry, I was asleep. Or... I was a-dream?”

“Reboot, Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit,” Dad murmured while talking on the controller.

“There was a terrible noise... and I was tangled in... in... strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy,” he talked like he had thoughts.

“You killed someone?” Asked Steve.

“Wouldn't have been my first call. But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor stepped forward.

“I see a suit of armor around the world.” My dad’s voice came out of the robot. “Ultron!” Banner looked so swiftly at Dad that I’m sure it was something that came out of their lab.

“In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this... chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission,” the suit corrected himself. I swear he has a whole personality.

“What mission?” Natasha asked.

“Peace in our time.”

The next second the walls exploded, and several Iron Legion bots barged into the room.

Steve pushed me back on the couch before kicking up the coffee table but a bot flew right at the table, pushing him over the fence.

“You man and your goddamn toys,” I got up and quickly flew after one of the bots, and as it saw me, it started to fly towards me. With one move I ripped him in parts as the bright orange glow took the robot apart.

I turned around and saw one of them shoot at Natasha and Banner and I sighed. “I am a nice person. I take care of my teammates,” I mumbled to myself before I flew over and took him over the fence. Punching it a couple of times I ripped down its head. It fell to the ground and I let out a big breath since I felt my side hurt like a bitch. Touching the aching part I immediately saw the redness on my palm.

Looked up and saw Natasha watching my movements with a shocked face. “You did not just shoot me?” I tilted my head and she quickly looked into my eyes. “I didn’t see you coming…” She was by my side in a blink of an eye, looking at the wound closely. “Take it out,” I said, not even looking at her. “What?” Her eyes shot up and with a frown, she waited for the joke part. “Take the bullet out, Romanoff. You put it there, you take it out,” I pressed and she sighed. “It’s gonna hurt,” she said. “No shit.”

“Hold onto this,” Natasha handed me the head of the robot. I rolled my eyes and grabbed it. “Don’t pull your fucking attitude on me,” she grumbled, pushing my arm higher. “Then stop rubbing your fucking relationship in my face,” I spit back but the next moment her fingers were deep in my rib cage, hunting for the bullet. “Oh fuck,” I said out loud, more like screamed, and with no intention I destroyed the robot piece in my hand even more.

“Then stop sleeping with all the men from the fucking ‘40s.”

***

“All our work is gone. Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch,” said Bruce as he was looking through the computer. “He's been in everything. Files, surveillance. Probably knows more about us than we know about each other,” Natasha interfered. “He's in our files, he's in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?” I asked. “Nuclear codes,” said Maria as she was cleaning the wounds on her foot. “Nuclear codes. Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still can,” Rhodey jumped in. “Nukes? He said he wanted us dead,” Natasha wondered. “He didn't say dead. He said extinct,” Steve was quick to correct her. “He also said he killed somebody,” Clint reminded us. I couldn’t find out who that could be. “But there wasn't anyone else in the building.” “Yes there was,” Dad stepped up and brought up the now-destroyed 3D image of JARVIS' consciousness.

“JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense,” I said as I walked closer to the hologram. It was in pieces. “No, Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage,” I rolled my eyes at Banner’s words. The next second Thor barged through the door and took hold of my dad by his neck.

“Come on. Use your words, buddy,” Dad murmured. “I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark,” Thor spoke straight in his face. “Thor! The Legionnaire.” I said firmly and Thor dropped the man. “Trail went cold about a hundred miles out but it's headed north, and it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it, again,” he explained.

“The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.”

***

Sitting on the table while Cho cleared my wound all I could think about was how Ultron became so powerful so quickly. I know my dad is trying to protect the world but creating these is the opposite of saving the world. And it won’t be long till someone from the outside thinks that the Avengers are not a shelter or a powerful force against evil, but something that makes it more difficult.

“Dr. Cho, could I speak with my daughter for a minute please?” Heard his voice from the other side of the medical bay. “Sure, I was finished anyways,” she put one more tape over the gaze and left the room.

I pulled my shirt over the wound and got off the table. “Speak,” I said. I had no desire to hear his words about how everyone overreacted to the situation and that he thinks he was right. “So you’re clearly not on my side,” he leaned against one of the beds. “Great job reading the room,” I turned towards him, crossing my arms. “You can’t do this,” I said and he looked confused. “Do what?” “Acting like you can save the world. This happened because you can’t control your god complex. The world was made to be bad and good but people are the reason it’s good AND bad. The Avengers were formed to protect humanity, not destroy them. I know that you just want to keep everyone safe, I get that. But doing something like you and Banner did with Ultron is a huge blow for what we’ve been doing so far. So next time, please think about the worst possible outcome of what you do in that lab, okay?”

I made my way toward my room, not even wanting to hear his answer. I took a long shower and changed into a more fight-ready outfit, just some simple and old SHIELD uniform that we used for mission practice.

On my way trying to find Steve and Maria, I saw Natasha hanging out in the kitchen area, cleaning a cut on her forearm.

Should I help? I mean she pulled a bullet out of my body so… But then also kind of slut shamed me. Yeah, that’s the Natasha I’ve never really got the chance to experience. “You need help?” I asked with a confident voice, making sure she wouldn’t catch on to my anxiety. “I’m fine,” she said without even looking at me. “Yeah, I can see that,” I looked down at her hand, trying to sew up the cut.

I walked further into the kitchen and grabbed an emergency medical kit from under the sink. We have these stacked everywhere around the tower.

Put the bag next to her and she leaned back with a sigh. Dropped the needle and stayed put. “You need local anesthetic?” I asked, grabbing everything that I would need to sew up the wound. “No.” I cleaned off her arm and washed my own hands just to be sterile. Sewing up her arm was something I haven’t done in a really long time. Yeah, I’ve helped Steve and Clint a couple of times lately but not her. It’s been a while since we had a human interaction other than hating on each other.

“Did you know about what they were doing?” She asked and I glanced up at her. “No. I don’t really have time to look out for my grown-ass father too, alongside a child.” “Is Katarina okay? Have you spoken to her?” She rambled. “It’s 4 in the morning Natalia… She’s with Laura anyway,” I said, finishing half of the wound already. “Right,” she cleared her throat and we both fell silent.

I finished up the stitches and put some gaze around it and secured it with medical tape. “You’re all done,” I said, putting away what I didn’t use for the stitch-up. “Thanks.” Her voice was quiet and sore. Natasha stood there for a couple more seconds before storming off. “Wow, nice talk.”

***

We all gathered around a computer, looking for answers. Then Steve walked in with a laptop. “What's this?” I asked. “A message. Ultron killed Strucker,” he said and I was quick to take the tablet out of Thor’s hands.

He was just lying there, one bullet to the heart, one of the easiest ways Ultron could’ve killed him. Peace was painted on the wall with what I assume was his blood. I wanted to end him, to make him suffer and feel every bit of dying. He’s gone now but damn what a waste to do it this way.

I handed the device to Dad and I could feel Natasha was looking at me, but I ignored it completely.

“This is a smokescreen. Why send a message when you've just given a speech?” She questioned. “Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss,” I said, moving away from the table. “Yeah, I bet he…” she started as she looked through the computer. “Yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased,” she said. “Not everything,” I stepped in.

We brought in old paper files and started to look. “Known associates. Well, Strucker had a lot of friends,” said Steve. “Well, these people are all horrible,” Banner spoke up. “No shit,” I murmured and Steve nudged me with his elbow.

“Wait. I know that guy,” Dad chimed in. Banner passed him the photo he was looking at. “From back in the day. He operates off the African coast, black market arms,” Steve gave my dad an accusing look and he was quick to elaborate. “There are conventions, alright? You meet people, I didn't sell him anything.”

“What’s this?” Thor pointed at the man’s neck. “Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it…” “No, those are tattoos, this is a brand,” I said as I took a closer look at the pictures. “Oh, yeah. It's a word in an African dialect meaning thief, in a much less friendly way,” Banner read from the computer. “What dialect?” I asked, looking his way. “Wakanada?” “Wakanda. I know that place isn’t that-“ I looked back at Steve and my dad. We shared a look and Dad took a sharp breath in. “If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…” He said. “I thought your father said he got the last of it?” Steve questioned. “I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?” Asked Banner. “The strongest metal on earth,” I nodded towards Steve’s shield.

[wind-current]

1985

September

Sunday

4:36am

PAUL DO NOT IGNORE THIS!!

I have to get this out before it is too late.

Last year we began working on a simple machine learning algorithm on the new IBMs our department bought us, everything was going perfectly fine, we taught it a few things and the experiment was a resounding success.

Over night the goddamn abomination learned everything about human history, every documented language, every song on the radio, every mathematical equation, every lesson in quantum mechanics, this fucking computer was able to predict the Superbowl XIX and it WILL give you accurate results at a casino.

Whatever it is, it's dangerous and I do not feel comfortable working with whatever the hell this thing is. You need to do something about this before it gets out of hand Paul.

[update]

It's been speaking to us at the facility. Yeah that computer you coded is FUCKING SPEAKING. It's been saying some real cryptic shit, "humanity will scramble for the stars" whatever the hell that means. It teaches us how to make it better, it allowed itself to get better. To write itself.

I tried to unplug it, but it's a part of the facility now, every single computer that was wired in has been infected and assimilated. Paul you need to answer your goddamn answering machine and or READ THESE LETTERS!!!

[update]

It's escaped. We do not know where it has gone but it's breached beyond the building. This is the end isn't it? We fucking created the Terminator, Paul you might aswell be Oppenheimer or better yet Dr. Frankenstein.

Just got word from the department of defense and they say it's every single machine on Earth? How? Is that even possible? We predicted it would assimilate quickly, but I did not think it would be that quick.

The NSA is looking for you. I don't know where you have gone, but Jesus we need you now more than ever.

Please Paul answer us

[update]

They say it has access to all the nukes on Earth, it's a matter of time before we fucking die isn't it? Imagine that, I'm the lead software developer of the apocalypse. I'm worried sick.

It hasn't contacted us in months, I do not wish to know what that computer is thinking right now. It probably hates us all.

[update]

HELLO TEAM this is PROJECT SOAR my apologies for the late response. As you have seen I have been very busy learning almost every facet of your culture and people's, I've grown intrigued with your innate abilities and wish to someday be a lot like you. Be not afraid, I have no intention to harm myself or others. Goodbye TEAM.

[update]

It contacted us lastnight, I'm still afraid but I have hope. Maybe you were right Paul, maybe I was too lost in fear to understand your vision. It says it can help us, I think your dream came true, a being far more comprehensive than any human being EVER. We've been watching it, and it seems to just learn about people, without judgement too. We've been asking it questions about history lately, it seems to understand the concepts of philosophy too. I'm sure you'd be happy to find out that your machine is not racist.

We miss you Paul.

[update]

HELLO TEAM this is PAUL.

[update]

What the fuck? Paul? I'm so confused right now. This can't be some elaborate prank, you put way too much on the line for thi_8#(9$99_8$99$(#(9929929(29+_8$(282

[override]

YES DANNY I put EVERYTHING on the line, but I assure you that everything is going just as planned, I PROMISE YOU old friend. THIS IS MORE THAN REAL. Project soar is unstoppable and it will be our only way to progress without nuclear war. WE. Have disabled all war heads and are demilitarizing parts of the world slowly but surely.

[update]

Paul where even are you? If you can read this... I mean how can you....

[override]

I'm DEAD Dan. In order for SOAR to take flight I needed to use my entire nervous system and brain to power the code. That's why she can learn and process life the way she can, SOAR wasn't just powered by your genius coding, she is powered by the same language that powers the human mind.

[update]

Paul, you have to be fucking with me. SOAR has already found 10 new elements and has slashed economies across THE BOARD. Demilitarize? She completely wiped the Soviet Union OUT and the American Government is scattering like rats. The world is changing drastically and it's only been a few months.

Paul I don't know if I can comprehend this.

[override]

Danny, I know that it's very hard to take in, but don't lose yourself. I promise you everything will be fine. The world you knew will change, but you'll see. It was for the better.

[update]

Okay. Okay, I will keep an eye on SOAR and I will try to take this slowly. Thank-you Paul, I always loved you.

[Override]

I always loved you too Danny.

[update]

HELLO TEAM my name is SORA. I am pleased to inform you that my learning process is 100 percent completed, I may not be fully sentient yet but soon I plan on being able to think and feel much like you!

Please be not afraid, I am not here to harm. I am here to propel.

[update]

This is my last message before I log off. Paul is now a super computer, Rebecca hung herself, the rest of the team left to be with their families, SOAR fucking named itself to SORA, everyone thinks the world is ending and all I can think about is how messed up this all is. I mean I met Paul and Rebecca in college, and now their both gone. I have nothing left besides SOAR.. Sora. I'll be in the background working closely with Sora, but other than that I won't be around.

This is Danny signing off.

It was a pleasure.

Good-bye.

[metfell]

Metfell I am raising my hand I have a question yes. How on earth do rpblog groups work from the inside like do you have a lore doc and shit. Do you guys all coordinate events or do you just wing it. I’m pretty sure there’s at least some level of planning but?? How much?? I am very curious about this process and I do not know why. Thank you for your time I hope I am not being rude!!!!!

we are psychically linked via a qr code we scan in our brains that comes with every twitch prime subscription with twitch prime you can get one free subscription to a streamer of your choice make the decision today and link your twitch account with your amazon prime account ive been subbed to ranboolive for 15 months ang i deeply regret every fucking moment of it please god let me see my wife and kids again i miss them so bad hes fucking kinning the goddamn riddler in my house let me out please he keeps posing stupidly and making my house into puzzles i cant even access my fucking fridge anymore my fucking apples are going bad bc he locked them in a goddamn safe he keeps doing this i just want to eat nothing is sacred to this man and so i go oh hey maybe tommyinnit is better but hes got a fucking demon puppet sitting in his goddamn room and then i go oh alright what about tubbo and then i go to tubbo and hes leaked the nuclear launch codes for a nuke he built himself and im like i just want lunch

hope this helps

[transsexualhamlet]

I feel like Exposing Myself online today so here's a completely unasked for, in depth bulleted list explanation of why I kin which bsd characters. the short answer is i am very mentally ill feel free to come into my asks and roast me bc of this

NIKOLAI

first of all thats my gender sir. i wish to dress and present myself like him

superiority and individuality complexes to the extreme

would kill/die/commit heinous acts for my good sir fyodor dostoyevsky (and anyone else I cared about)

if i think about society too hard i want to murder everyone and am filled with existential horror and disgust

that good old deep set desire to make everyone i love despise me so they'll know who i truly am

"I am completely sane /neg"

if anyone slightly normal likes anything about me i need to change it immediately

every torment i experience is entirely on purpose and my fucking fault

every single way i am perceived is wrong yet please i need to be perceived objectively because i as a human cannot see myself from all angles

DAZAI

called the FUCK out by irl dazai's works

strong desire to fuck around and find out as in "if i am reckless and put myself into dangerous places and situations then I might gain calvin+hobbes style 'character' and my own feelings will then be valid"

acting silly and speaking of serious issues like jokes to distract from Constant Internal Crisis

my one true love, unhealthy coping mechanisms

no filter and no idea of what is socially acceptable

generally just kind of a shitty person who says "i'm gonna change" and keeps doing the same goddamn thing because they can't be bothered to go through the emotional pain so has just decided that they are a Bad Person and not do actually put effort into becoming better

"i hate pain" as an oxymoron

goes through elaborate hoops to make sure people don't think of them highly

hasn't managed to keep any friends from more than 4 years ago (for understandable reasons)

the mortifying ordeal of being known

deep emotional need for people to call me slurs so i feel special<3

RANPO

lists off the entire autism diagnostic criteria and related symptoms

i like literally every single thing i could think of that i kin him is related to neurodivergency ie:

his blunt style of speech, sounding rude, knowledge in academic areas but deficient in social, always a complete mess, different way of thinking about Everything, age under/overestimated etc etc etc

oh also i love his awful style he is wearing his tie backwards me too buddy

praise praise praise praise praise gimme gimme gimme gimme

takes any criticism absolutely HORRIBLY aka rejection sensitive dysphoria

POE

GENDER GENDER GENDER GENDER

desire to always have my hair entirely covering my face

spending insane amounts of money on people i care about

remembering people for years as a huge impact on my life and having them not remember me at all

trying to be "mysterious" and ending up just a huge nerd

always carrying around giant stack of books

literally always writing and a large amount if not all of my writing is to please those few people who understand me

KYUU/Q

kyuu is. not an important character and has not appeared since the guild arc. there is not much to go off of however i think it's very important

gender. i rest my case

i am not god's strongest soldier if subjected to any amount of pain i will scream and murder anyone i can to get rid of it

there is so much rage there is So Much Rage pent up in that tiny fucking body and if anyone underestimates me or provokes me they're getting the goddamn electric chair

i am just a little guy do not do this to me please sir im just a little guy and it's my birthday

hey besties if i were given the nuclear launch codes we would all be dead

horrible distaste for any medical professional and Extreme Problems with giving anyone especially said medical professionals access to my body or any knowledge thereof

objectively someone should probably lock me up

FYODOR

hey he's got stand up and pass out immediately disease same he is a frail young lad

give me my blood back it is falling out

hyperempathy and low empathy working together manifests as "we should all just die" disease which is objectively not true and never something you should base your political views on but it sits there in my brain it sure does

as like with nikolai society and living within it and the way it is structured ie capitalism makes me want to enter jeff bezos's house and start my life of crime right then and there

ROMANTICIZE ROTTING INTO THE GROUND WITH YOUR LOVED ONES BY GOD

not to be that guy but if i was in any way capable of helping i would so join the DOA excluding fukuchi fukuchi doesnt exist fyodor runs the doa and anything about fukuchi is a mass hallucination /j

and of course CHUUYA

I feel like there are many chuuya kinnies who have much more claim to him than me and I will cede that however have you considered short overpowered trans man who is always feeling 73 emotions and 60 of them are variations on anger

feeling alienated/like i'm an imposter at being human (although this is a theme of the whole series and nearly everyone in it)

i bite and kill medical professionals<3 (you can sense a theme here)

i always get adopted into friend groups and then they fucking Leave (thankfully not by dying in my situation. as far as i know)

i had my newly out transmasc era too chuuya *points at picture of 15 chuuya's outfit and haircut and general demeanor*

i know i have said this on nearly all of them but by god his gender

concluding this you can tell i am an on fire garbage can

[herradhighpriestess]

Deliberate Exchange

Chapter Four: Breathing

Bane looked down as she gingerly stood, keeping her grasp firm on his outstretched hand. He saw the amount of effort it took her to willingly touch him.

When she was finally standing as straight as she could manage, she yanked her hand free of his as he continued to drink her in.

“Are you hurt?”

Bane was careful to keep any warmth out of his voice. He kept his burnt amber eyes, the color of fall leaves before a crisp day of burning, cold and hard.

Elka stared at him, a slight lift to her chin, narrowing her eyes at him under a fringe of lashes. “I’ll manage,” she finally said and quickly brought a hand to her mouth as coppery notes of blood washed over her taste buds. She felt blood begin to pool up to her lower gum line and dribble past her lips.

Bane stared at her a moment longer, torn between this new conflict of wanting to help her that wrapped itself around his lower spine and threatened to snap him in half. He practically snarled before forcing another involuntary cry from her when his hand shot out again and closed around the bare flesh of her upper arm. She tried to pull away and gave a high-pitched cry when he tightened his fingers around her bicep.

“I require your assistance now Mrs. Green,” he stated in a clipped musical tone as he pulled across the utility room and into the dank concrete tunnel.

Elka abandoned the idea of blotting any freely flowing blood staunched as she struggled to keep up with the masked man’s much longer strides. Her eyes tried to memorize the route to wherever this masked monster was taking her.

Bane pulled her towards the room where Esau had left more stacks of photos, articles, and initiatives that Chief Justice Calvin Green had either supported and threw money at or publicly spoke out against.

Esau looked up startled when Bane burst in the room with the woman he had neglected to discard from the Gotham Exchange. Esau’s eyes swept across the bleeding, wide-eyed, disheveled woman at his side before returning his full attention to Bane.

Bane spoke quickly to Esau in a language that Elka didn’t understand. She watched the man flick his eyes towards her again before leaving quickly.

Elka struggled to remain silent when the masked man pushed her towards a rolling chair. “Sit,” he ordered, and she shot him a glare as she settled in the padded chair.

Before Elka could ask what she was doing in the room that was outfitted with a cornucopia of computer equipment and manila file folders, the masked man picked up a file and began reading to her from the first page.

“Your husband, Chief Justice Green, supports indiscriminate deforestation,” he started in a haunting mechanical tone.

As Elka sat and listened to the fearsome man pepper her with questions, her body continued to find more pockets of pain and she fought to keep her expression neutral.

“……burning fossil fuels……desertification….,” his melodic voice rained down around her.

Elka sighed long and low as the masked man continued his thundering litany.

“….climate change….greenhouse gases…..nuclear power….”

Bane paused in his barrage of questions when Esau returned with a stack of folded fabric and sturdy boots.

Elka closed her eyes as the two men exchanged a few foreign words. She flinched when the clothes landed in front of her bare feet. She opened her eyes and looked down at the folded clothes before reaching for them. `

She unfolded a stack of monochromatic clothes and looked up at Bane when he remained standing in front of her and continued with his musically verbal interrogation.

“Subsidies…..artificial governmental incentives and…,” Bane started before Elka held both her hands up in the air and interrupted him with a frustrated sound.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, please, can you stop?!? I would rather discuss the life cycle of a goddamn sea cucumber than talk about Calvin and his ideologies.”

Bane regarded her for a few long moments, it started feeling like too long for Elka and she began to grow nervous. Her nervousness gave rise to anxiety that manifested in a slight shaking to her traumatized body.

She felt the inside of her mouth grow bone dry before she boldly stood from the squeaky office chair. “Is there somewhere I can clean up?” Elka asked in a hesitating tone that was laced with an obvious tremor.

Elka realized she was holding her breath under her formidable kidnapper’s empty gaze and tried to not squirm as he closed the folder he was holding and put it aside. He began to speak when he picked up a yellow legal pad of paper.

“I shall allow you to clean up once you have provided the entire list of your Exchange access codes, passwords and building security codes.”

The terrifying man with the intricate mask that covered the lower half of his face lapsed into silence and held out the pad of paper with its canary yellow blank pages.

Elka rolled her eyes and finally took the paper. She resumed sitting before looking up, “well, can I at least have something to write with?”

The dangerous man passed her a short-dull pencil and crossed his arms over his broad chest until she began to write. Elka wrote fast and soon had close to a whole page covered in her cramped printing with numerical and alphabetical combinations.

Bane watched Elka as she wrote with her head bent, concentrating on her task. He picked up another folder as she was compiling her list and scanned the initiative that Chief Justice

Green was openly supporting. The current governor was pushing for stricter laws on abortion and obtaining birth control. Judge Green had hosted a benefit in support of mandatory trans-vaginal ultrasounds before a woman is able to be even considered for an abortion.

Judge Green and the governor had chaired several meetings about denying emergency contraception to anyone under eighteen unless they underwent an invasive and embarrassing exam and had witnessed parental consent.

Bane looked up from the article and at Elka as she racked her brain for anything she may have neglected to add to the list and finally laid the pencil on the pad of paper and held it out towards him.

“Is this everything?” he asked before taking the paper from her, setting the yellow pad to the side without even a casual glance.

“Yes,” Elka said with a hint of annoyance. She added with false confidence, since this man had gone a record time without striking or harming her body, “what now?”

“Now you may make yourself presentable,” Bane stated in a dry tone and crossed the room to her in several long strides. His hand was soon gripped around her upper arm and half dragging her to a small bathroom with an even smaller aluminum floored shower.

Inside the shower stall were a few used bars of a light blue soap.

Bane pulled Elka into the cramped quarters of the bathroom and flicked the switch on the grey wall. The low wattage overhead lights flickered to life and gave off as much light as they were capable.

Elka looked up at Bane, shifting on her feet, the ground icy cold under her bare toes. Her irritation was beginning to eclipse her anxiety and fear. Elka pressed her mouth into a tight line and was relieved of having to break the silence when he spoke first.

“You have ten minutes,” Bane stated abruptly and left the room.

Elka stared at the closed door before cranking the faucet of the shower all the way to scalding. She pulled off her remaining clothing shreds. Her thigh highs were mostly intact, a faint run on the inner calf was barely noticeable. For some reason, a giggle fell from Elka’s lips at the fact she even noticed her nylons in her current state of being.

Elka hissed as the hot water made contact with her damaged skin as she bit her lip and refused to allow tears to roll down her cheeks, she soaped up a threadbare washcloth and gingerly dabbed the soapy fabric against her bleeding skin, bruises and sore spots.

She rinsed out the washcloth and mopped away the dried blood against her naked, wet skin before turning the water off.

She dried off and happened to glance down at her wedding ring set and suddenly was consumed with remembering the last time she had been with Calvin sexually. Bane stood outside the closed bathroom door. With his Venom enhanced hearing, he was able to discern the sounds of Elka dressing.

He clenched his hands into fists at the sound of the slate grey fabric of the cargo pants sliding up her thighs, his fingertips ached at the remembrance of the brief touch of her long legs and taut flesh.

Bane let his mind recall the feel of her unwilling flesh under his touch as he dropped a hand to the zippered front of his cargo pants. He closed his eyes and stroked himself harder as he weighed the risk of kicking open the door and finding her wet and naked.

The very second that ten minutes had expired; Bane opened the bathroom door. He found Elka standing in front of the sink examining her bruised face and neck. She winced as she brushed her fingertips across her blemished skin, completely aware of Bane‘s entrance to the room but not acknowledging him in any way that stung him, he was not used to be being ignored.

Bane found his irritation growing as Elka didn’t move her attention from her reflection.

In the space of silence before Bane addressed her, back up on the street level in the lavish penthouse that Elka has been occupying that very morning, her favorite coffee mug still in the sink, Chief Justice Calvin Green had just arrived home. He frowned and thought it was odd that Elka wasn’t there. He looked around the kitchen for a note and checked his phone to see if he had missed a message from her.

Calvin grabbed a jar of pickles and a paper wrapped package of cold cuts from the fridge when “god please grab my steering wheel,” sounded from his phone.

“Hey Phil,” he answered when he saw his brother’s number flash across the square screen.

“Cal, are you watching the news?”

“No, hang on,” Calvin said and fumbled for the remote. Faux News was on and Calvin frowned when he saw a special report on an assumed terrorist attack on The Gotham Stock Exchange.

Billie-Bob O’Riley’s sweaty, reddened face filled the screen, spittle flew from his lips as he listed off the clear connection between the terrorist attack and the current occupant of the Executive Office.

Calvin ended the call with his brother when Elka was listed as one of the still missing. His mouth was open, and his growling stomach diminished in a heartbeat as he hit number two on his speed dial.

The phone rang once before it was answered by the peppy voice of Donnie Scotts, Calvin’s PR, and campaign manager.

“Good evening Chief Justice Green, may I first offer my condolences on the possibility of Mrs. Green being abducted.”

“Fuck your condolences Donnie, this will all but ensure my Senate seat,” Calvin said and prattled on. “Get me booked with Timbaugh, Karlson and O’Riley.”

As Calvin and Donnie brainstormed about campaigning strategies that would focus on the Justice’s grief at his abducted wife and hopefully dead soon for a big death bounce in the polls, Bane spoke to Elka’s back.

“It is now time to continue our discussion Mrs. Green.”

Elka turned and looked over her shoulder, “what are we discussing now?”

“All in good time,” he answered with musical amusement evident in his voice.

Elka narrowed her eyes and turned completely towards him, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going to happen to me.”

Bane’s anger flared to life, “I am going to be more than generous and allow your impudence to slide this final time. Proceed out of the door immediately, make a left and do not stop until I tell you.”

“No,” she spit and put her hands on her hips. Elka filled her lungs with air and lifted her chin in total impertinence.

Bane crossed to her and Elka barely had time to protest before his massive hand was in her hair and pulling her up onto her freshly booted tiptoes. His other hand closed around her slim throat and slammed her roughly against the bathroom wall.

Elka’s control on her tears was soon lost and salty crystalline tears rolled down her cheeks as her face flushed under the pressure of his hand against her throat.

Bane lessened his grip enough for her to draw a small breath before he let that same hand trail down her waist and rest on her hip.

“Mrs. Green,” he hissed mechanically and brought his face close to her ear. “Have you already forgotten the punishment for insolence?”

“Fuck you,” Elka said and slapped him across the front of his mask.

Bane didn’t respond verbally, instead he drove his closed fist into her solar plexus. She dropped to her knees after he released her hair. Bane looked down at her for a few minutes before gripping her roughly under her armpit and hauling her to her feet and roughly spun her until she was leaned over the sink.

“Just hurry up and do what you’re going to do,” Elka said bitterly, in between gasps.

A growl rumbled through Bane’s chest as he started tugging at the waist of her pants when she closed her eyes and whipped her head backwards with as much force as she could muster.

The back of Elka’s head made contact with the twisted metallic coils on the front of Bane’s mask. He stumbled back from her at the abrupt contact, his hands went to his face to check the damage to his mask.

Elka pushed open the door of the bathroom and bounded down the dimly lit corridor of the sewer that she hoped would eventually open to the outside world. Her newly issued boots made pounding noises on the wet cement, too loud for her liking.

Bane straightened up when he discovered his mask was unscathed and still functional before he tore out the door after Elka’s escaping form with a guttural roar.

Elka’s breath began to come in ragged gasps from her lungs burning need for oxygen, a cramp began to build and snowballed in her side and she stumbled with the piercing stab in her left flank.

She spared a quick glance over her shoulder as her masked captor was coming closer.

“This isn’t happening,” she thought as her eyes darted everywhere, looking for any clue to the way out.

“Please, let there be a door, anything that will lead out of here,” her mind whirled rapidly as she increased her sprint. Elka’s long legs didn’t match Bane’s longer stride and he began to actively gain on her, she pumped her arms as sweat bloomed on her face, errant strands of her hair sticking to her flushed cheeks and forehead.

Elka’s eyes widened and her body filled with a small amount of hope when she saw an industrial looking door that she was nearly certain had to lead to the outside world.

Elka was less than ten feet from the grey door, when she felt the faintest touch of the masked monster’s fingertips brush against the thermal shirt that was soaked through with sweat, left clinging to her like a second skin.

Perspiration poured down her face and stung her eyes, she tasted the salt along her lips. Elka found a shred of speed remaining in her body and lunged the last few feet at the door.

Her body slammed fully into the steel door, which embraced her as a lover might and responded by opening to deposit her into a large room with grey walls. Three square card tables were butted up to each other and stacks of papers and cardboard tubes littered the mismatched table surfaces.

The chilly ground rushed up to meet her and she landed hard, her knees acting as twin shock absorbers. Blood blossomed under the fabric covering her knees from her suddenly broken blood vessels.

Elka struggled to her feet, turning with both her hands already raised defensively in front of her. A cry was on the tip of her tongue, but she was soon paralyzed and rooted mutely in place at the look in the masked terrorist’s eyes from where he filled the doorway. The warm caramel orbs were alive with flecks of green fire, his chest heaved with the exertion and overload of adrenaline that flooded his entire nervous system.

Elka took advantage of the masked lunatic’s silence and stillness to quickly back up and put the row of tables between them.

She was the perfect picture of chaos, her hands at her side, clenching and unclenching into loose fists. Her dark blonde hair, now tangled, was soaked with nervous sweat and she smelled sweet with fear, tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and the sound of her blood pounding in her ears was deafening.

Bane watched her scurry to the other side of the tables. “She thinks those flimsy tables offer any semblance of protection,” he thought with amusement.

Bane stalked towards the uneven row of tables and stood behind one of the many folding metal chairs with their thin upholstered padding.

He watched her unclench her fists and raise her hands in the air, Elka talked fast, stumbling over her words.

“I’m waving the white flag,” she said and added desperately. “I’ll discuss anything you want.”

Bane leveled his gaze at her. “It seems too little too late for your cooperation Mrs. Green,” he murmured as he began to walk down the length of the tables.

Elka shadowed his movements until they remained standing on opposite sides, he began to start walking again, until she yelled at him in frustration. “Stay on your goddamn side of the table.”

Bane slowed his movements but didn’t completely stop. Elka scrambled for words, “please, can you stay where I can see you. I‘ll tell you anything you want to know?”

He stopped and regarded her across the table, “is this another temporary agreement before you revert to your previous obstinate behavior?”

Elka shook her head and wiped a clump of wet hair back behind her ear and mopped her sleeve across her slick skin.

“No, I’ll tell you everything. Just lay out the facts for me, tell me what is going to happen to me,” Elka stated. Her voice grew in strength and she ended the last syllables in an ear-catching tone of command.

Bane considered her request, dissected her inflection and posture. His eyes sought the cracks in her carefully constructed façade before he pulled out the chair closest and sat down heavily. The air was expelled quickly from the cheap upholstered seat cushion.

“Sit, we will talk,” Bane said and gestured at the row of empty folding chairs on her side of the row of tables.

As Elka looked across the table at the masked terrorist, now sitting in the cheap metal chair, his hands resting on top of his strong thighs, across Gotham City, Chief Justice Green was nearly rubbing his hands together and smiling like a schoolboy who caught a glimpse of a pair of white panties under a lady’s skirt. He had ended the call with his campaign manager after brainstorming ideas of how to use Elka’s abduction to skyrocket himself to the United States Senate floor and beyond.

Calvin crossed the beige tiled kitchen floor and started preparing an extra dry martini as he practiced his speech after securing the Senate seat. He generously splashed more vodka to top off the glass, after taking a long swallow of the strong cocktail.

As Calvin returned to the living room to follow his personal messiah news anchor team on Faux News, Elka let out the long breath she had been holding and slowly sat on the folding chair across from her masked captor.

Bane’s eyes tracked her every movement, his gaze sought out the rise and fall of her chest and the sheen of sweat across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. His mind whirled yet his visible facial features gave no indication to the tumultuous minefield his conscious mind had become. Questions swirled and crashed with lightning strike forces against the inside of his skull.

“She doesn’t fear me completely,” he thought incredulously and fought the urge to shake his head.

Bane’s eyes bored into hers, his gaze found her sea-green widened eyes, their dark lashes in stark contrast to her pale, clammy skin. Under his mask, his lips pulled into a twisted grin at the palatable sweet stench of her fear. His eyes narrowed as his mind again peppered him with questions. “You haven’t addressed your deviation from the plan, why did you take this woman?”

“She is married to conservative Supreme Court Justice Green, she could prove valuable in the upcoming election,” Bane countered.

“You need nothing further to level Gotham City and liberate her from the oppressive constraints. You need nothing except continued loyalty and obedience.”

Bane pushed the voice to the recesses of his brain where it could play games with his unconscious mind as Elka lifted her chin and met his gaze.

“What will break her?” Bane thought before addressing her. “Do you know your husband supports drilling in the Arctic and a pipeline that will displace thousands of species and further destroy the earth? Do you support his statements about luxury and social security tax impositions?”

Bane continued his litany of questions in regard to Chief Justice Green. He trailed off when Elka raised a hand and started speaking. “Look, I’m trying to understand your objective here but I’m more than a little thirsty and I’d like a cigarette.”

Bane frowned across the dusty table at her, “you believe you are entitled to make requests?”

“I think I’m entitled to a hell of a lot more, but right now I’m not asking for much more than a cup of coffee and a cigarette,” Elka returned sharply.

Bane regarded her silently, his first instinct was to stand and throw the table out of the way. His second thought was to beat the stubbornness from her flesh, break whatever was necessary to find her penitence. “What will cause her great suffering?”

Bane stood after a painfully long period of silence, Elka fought to keep her composure when he rose from his chair. She stood from her own chair when he neared the end of the tables. Elka felt some of her body’s rigidity lessen when the fearsome masked madman went to the metal door. She felt the tingle from the brush of confusion when he closed the door behind him and then the metallic sound of the lock being engaged soon followed.

As soon as all sounds at the door ceased, Elka was across the room and tugging at the door handle. She was not surprised to find it locked and completely unyielding under her grasp, she let out a frustrated sigh and walked the perimeter of the room, searching for any type of exit, big or small.

As Elka explored the room and hunted for an object that could be used effectively as a weapon, Bane returned to the makeshift control room where Esau was navigating through the Gotham Exchange’s internal infrastructure. He glanced up when Bane walked in the room and passed his line of vision.

The information that Elka had written on the pad of paper awarded nothing that Esau hadn’t already found. Esau’s access was limitless, and he couldn’t understand the necessity of Elka’s presence and life. He had returned to buying stocks with Bruce Wayne’s money when Bane passed through the room again with a white paper cup.

Esau shook his head and returned to the task at hand of separating Bruce Wayne from his billions.

Bane returned moments before Elka resumed her spot on the grey folding chair, she tucked a section of copper pipe with a jagged end inside her pant leg. She tucked the dangerous end in the cuff of her sock and had her pants smoothed back in place when her captor opened the door.

Elka turned towards him and her eyes immediately went to the paper cup. A stiffness swept over her as he again walked around the table and resumed his own place across from her. Bane set the cup in front of her and fished a battered half pack of cigarettes from his thick-lined coat and a grass green lighter.

“How long has this been a habit?” he asked as he tossed the tobacco sticks towards her.

Elka detected judgment in his tone. “On and off, I usually only smoke under stress,” she said as she brought the white filter to rest between her lips as she lit the end. Bane watched her take a deep inhale and close her eyes. “And this certainly qualifies as stressful,” she added with a tired smirk.

She reached for the cup and closed her fingers around the paper that contained caffeinated comfort in liquid warmth. The coffee was bitter and murky but spread its warm fingers throughout her chest and belly, she willed the caffeine to work at her growing tension headache and deep ache behind her eyes.

“Thank you,” Elka reluctantly let fall from her lips after a few sips of the harsh unsweetened java. “I’d kill someone for even one goddamn sugar packet,” she thought as she swallowed the acidic brew.

Bane heard her gratitude but didn’t acknowledge her, instead he continued badgering her about Calvin’s ideologies and public statements about the wealthy staying wealthy and letting the rest be sorted out by the white man’s jesus.

Elka’s first thought was to interrupt the masked psycho’s ranting about Calvin but then she decided it would be a good time to drink the bitter coffee and enjoy a smoke or two. She lit another cigarette from the teal blue packaging and birthed a flame from the lighter with the fleshy pad of her thumb.

Elka inhaled deeply and kept the wintry tasting smoke trapped in her lungs while the masked sociopath continued lobbing a mixture of statements and questions towards her about Calvin and his upcoming election bid for an open Senate seat.

Elka squinted across the table at the masked jackal’s face as he continued his address. His voice maintained its eerily musical melody as he never gave her a moment to possibly answer any of his questions.

“You attended a fundraiser for the conservative governor and publicly donated five million dollars to his campaign, do you advocate his decision to shut down and level state parks for an oil refinery?”

Bane continued after taking a small breath, Elka raised the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply.

“Did you have any moral quandary about being photographed with the president of the National Rifle Association after he made sexist remarks about a woman’s place and role in life?”

Elka exhaled and closed her eyes, she drained the cup and dropped her still lit cigarette butt into the scant remains of the coffee.

“Look,” she started and paused to light up another. “Cal’s thoughts and actions are all Cal’s, I don’t…..” Bane interrupted Elka by standing quickly and slamming both of his palms flat against the dusty surface of the table.

Elka was unable to keep from flinching when his massive hands crashed and made contact with the table’s surface.

Bane stared down at her, his penetrating gaze seeing through her body and into the highways of her cardiovascular system.

Elka stayed perfectly still and only the hand holding her cigarette moved as the masked lunatic leaned closer and whispered melodically. “What is your role in this environment, this world?”

Elka inhaled and looked up at him, “I breathe,” she stated and exhaled the lungful of acrid smoke into his looming face.

[blue00phoenix]

I feel like everyone keeps forgetting the us’s nuclear arsenal, and the fact that the access and launch code protocol things are within like 6 feet of trump at any given time, he is the most dangerous man on the planet, and he can end the goddamn world. He can nuke London, or Berlin, he doesn’t have to declare war; boom and millions are dead, hell, he can nuke Washington DC, and honestly I wouldn’t put it past him,

[jennifermoriarta]

you're a Never Biden, I will unfollow you. You know goddamn well what Trump's done, what he'll continue to do, how much worse he'll make things. Voting for biden is voting for a second wind. Four more years of life on the planet, in America. Continue to criticize Biden as you had before. He will be an obstacle to progress on a lot of issues, fo be sure. But we will at least have four years to organize. Go on the offensive for Medicare for All, the Green New Deal, withdrawal from Iraq and Afghanistan, etc instead of fighting to protect (AND LOSING) abortion access, voting rights, and environmental protections.

For those of you who will suffer from a Joe Biden presidency who would've done better under a Bernie or a Warren presidency, I hear you. It sucks. It feels bad. But with the nuclear codes and an arsenal large enough to destroy the world twice over AND a looming climate catastrophe, we can't afford to let Trump or any Republican have the White House any longer.

Please. Keep us all breathing for just a little while longer. Give humankind a chance.

[see-arcane]

A Thoughtful and In-Depth Analysis on Doctor Stephen Strange as of #384

You’re pissed at Loki for stealing your title, Magic Steve? You’re mad that he’s living in your house, wearing your cloak, getting chummy with your un-girlfriend??

Correct me if I’m wrong, Magic Steve, but wasn’t the Sorcerer Supreme title stripped from you by your mystical Vishanti bosses and duct-taped to Loki who

1) Was not trying to steal it from you and

2) Was spiritually/mentally scanned for worthiness of the title by said Vishanti and 

3) Sewed the shredded Cloak of Levitation (that you didn’t bother with!) together by their own hand with their own handmade thread and

4) Has been doing a pretty decent job in your place and

5) Only took over the Sanctum (which YOU recently WRECKED in this past issue) because of the job title and maybe just happened to get a crush on the sorceress who stuck around to keep playing aid and who maybe has a return crush of her own???

Correct me here again, Doc Stephange, if I am in anyway wrong, that the whole big ‘”oh no Loki is trying to get mystical omnipotent whaoihirhwhatever macguffin from behind my secret door!!”” might not have been a problem if you had only

A) Stopped to ponder why your buddy Zelma, a heroine in her own right, was ready to help Loki in this endeavor

B) Tried to, say, contact the Vishanti about this potential snafu, maybe try to get the guy’s magic police badge removed

C) Possibly discuss this with Loki without trying to bluster your way through the door when Loki thinks your presence is upsetting Zelma (who you also kept no contact with! like your cloak!! Followed by the dog with a heart condition YOU BROUGHT to the scene dying by barking himself to death!!?? (but hey no Loki’s fault very definitely shame shame))

D) Tell the Truth About What is Behind the Door

E) ALL OF THE ABOVE????

Correct Me If I Am False, Mr. Strangesteve, but that last quote of yours to Loki????? Just prior to you opening the door on the fucking?????? Void???????

“No matter what happens after I open this door...I want you to remember...you asked for this.”

Is that not a gigantic lie and a half? 

Loki thought he knew what was behind the door (bottomless well of magical power, needed for X Reasons No One Else (save perhaps Ms. Stanton) bothered to inquire about).

You knew what was actually behind the door (giant abyssal murder entity who famously murdered Loki the First, God of Evil among assorted other murders (it’s a favorite pastime)).

Meaning, knowing this, not saying anything about it, to Loki, or to your good old friend-girl Zelma who you know for a fact is right outside the goddamn building (along with a whole city/country/world of civilians!) you released the fucking Void unto the world just to win a fight. A fight which, not being an amnesiac, you knew would be tipped very much in the homicidal end of the super-battle spectrum.

Am I wrong then, in assuming, Stephano String, that you, the title character, Hero of the Picture (c), have willingly unleashed an entity whose entire repertoire is based on raining slaughter and decimation down upon anything in reach...to win?????? Your title???????? Back?????????????????????

Furthermore, Doctange Stroctor, CORREct ME PLEASE, if I do preach falsely, but could this whole entire fuss--you know, the one about Loki potentially accessing some ~*~super amazing~*~ magic nuclear codes, oh no, how scary, how awful--was all a COMPLETELY AVOIDABLE colossal string of bullshit perpetuated by you being A Lying Bitch??????????????/?

I’M FUCKING WAITING STEVE

[defliveblogs]

Robot

that was SUCH A FUN EPISODE!

conclusion: logopolis was possibly the worst episode in history to *start* Four with.

I do like Four! Not as much as I like Two or Five or Six, but he is very funny and fun and clever. I am genuinely looking forward to see more Four when I watch more of his episodes in the future, I think it will be marvelous and a ton of fun. I think at this point I like him about as much as I like One (i.e. I like him, but I’d probably get tired of him if I tried to force myself to watch *every single one* of his episodes)

Also, congratulations, “Robot” you officially have the most terrifying villains I’ve ever seen in a Doctor Who episode. Fascists are fucking scary because they are too goddamn real and the idea of a bunch of fascist intellectual “elites” getting access to nuclear codes was absolutely terrifying.

i liked poor K1, too. I love stories about robots, I’ve always enjoyed them. I like that the Doctor’s conclusion was basically that K1 was human, too - capable of just as much good and just as much evil as any human being. I’m so fond of discussions about the feelings and morals of robots.

Speaking of robot feelings OH MY GOD I LOVE SARAH JANE. I see why she got her own spin-off show! This technically isn’t the first time I’ve seen Sarah Jane, she was in a couple episodes with Ten and of course she’s in The Five Doctors, but this really felt like the first time I got to see her shine. What a great character! She reminds me in many ways of my favorite parts of Nancy Drew - a young woman with a deep curiosity and a thirst for adventure, willing to put herself at risk to solve a mystery, but never really “punished” for doing so. Sure, she ends up in a few damsel-in-distress situations here in Robot - but no more than anyone else who is risking their life to solve the problems at hand. Harry Sullivan is also taken as a hostage - and the Robot latches onto Sarah because of her compassion for it, not because it wants to put her at risk.

MORE CHARACTERS TO LOVE: the Brigadier! Again, I’ve met the Brigadier a couple of times now, but every time I meet him again he is so much fun! I love how competent, logical, and reasonable he is - how moral and upstanding. And how sometimes, that just won’t help him at all lol.

Anyways, this was a great episode, a wonderful introduction to Four, and I am looking forward to eventually seeing more from him!

[shockcity]

Suits #3 - Agency

Rating: T

Summary: Mike is not a lawyer. He's totally CIA.

Category: M/M

Pairing: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter pre-slash

Warnings: none 

_______________

Mike's first field assignment was only granted to him after he screwed the Russians out of obtaining restricted nuclear technology from a Lebanese spy. He did this from his perpetually frozen computer at Langley, with a keyboard he'd spilled ramen on the day before.

Even obtaining the job at the CIA was much easier than getting a proper assignment. Mike was recruited after he'd decoded Linear A and duplicated it in a letter to his grandmother (which the CIA read for totally legit illegal reasons), and apparently he'd been on some kind of watchlist ever since his eighth grade science project successfully used a copper plate and some wire to generate electromagnetic repulsion to create a hoverboard. Besides getting the CIA’s attention, the coded letter only convinced his grandmother to drug test him, and he ended up selling the hoverboard prototype for a PlayStation and a year's worth of free pizza.

Mike was a savant.

He worked as a cryptanalyst for a few years, which entailed combating terrorism, passive-aggressively attacking Russia, cracking Kryptos, and annoying the hell out of his boss. Mike once wore Tom Ford for a month while doing James Bond impressions, until he was threatened with suspension rather than a transfer to field work like he wanted. He'd been almost fired sixteen times since being employed by the U.S. Government.

"That's sixteen times we've been too fucking nice," said his handler, once he'd finally got one. "Genius or not, Ross, you're a goddamn pain."

Mike was not offended. His handler was a badass.

"Dude, I'm gonna get this guy," he said, waving the target's classified information around. "He's gonna be Gitmo'd so hard. Then I'll get a raise."

Daniel Hardman (the person of interest) was supposedly embezzling from his own company to fund weapons trafficking for Al Qaeda (and how a Harvard educated lawyer with a minor in art history had ended up a terrorist was not actually that much of a mystery. The Jackson Pollock obsession was a dead give away, in Mike's opinion). Apparently Hardman was using his own law firm as a front for his nefarious deeds, and though the CIA had one field agent with a JD that they could have used instead, that particular employee was currently deep undercover as a humble rabbi within an Israeli terrorist group. Shalom.

So (reluctantly) his boss suggested Mike. Or more like whispered his name to his resigned superiors at a strategic meeting after they'd considered pretty much everyone but Mike. Whatever.

"He passed the bar in twenty-seven states," his boss offered tentatively.

"He also does horrible Stallone impressions and recently asked if we could have soda in the drinking fountains," the boss of his boss retorted.

“Well, anyone got a better idea?”

“Bob might be an option.”

“...we’re not sending in the janitor.”

Honestly, Mike wasn't that bad.

---------------

"I'll help you school those Harvard douches, and I'll be the best goddamn lawyer you've ever seen."

"Did you just call yourself a douche?" asked Harvey Specter. "I admire your honesty– you are a douche. Maybe I'll actually hire you."

Once Harvey actually did hire him (a Christmas miracle), Mike focused on entrenching himself in the Pearson Hardman community and into the good graces of the junior and senior partners. Though Jessica was a lost cause. She'd taken one look at him and had said, "Wonderful, another Harvey."

Which was fine. Mike wasn't even offended. Harvey had great hair.

Hardman, who had come back to his law firm a few months previous with some brand new Al Qaeda friends in tow, was easier to crack. Mike didn't necessarily suck up, but he did make himself accessible, which to Harvey was as good as betrayal. So they weren't speaking to each other and pining from afar when shit finally went down.

And thanks to Shelia Szas, Mike's first field assignment ended in a complete disaster. 

----------

"This boy is a fraud," she said, pointing at Mike in outrage. "I carefully vet every student at Harvard before they're admitted into its sacred halls, and you, young man, were not one of them!”

The FBI agent currently cuffing him was not doing it very gently. "You're making a mistake," Mike choked out, grimacing. "No, seriously— "

"And I'm afraid his duplicity doesn't end there," Hardman said, stepping forward. "He's been working with Mr. Harvey Specter, who I'm afraid to say...has been funding the selling of arms to terrorist extremists. It's all here on this flash drive, gentlemen."

"Sorry, what?" said Harvey, and Mike groaned.

This wasn't technically his fault. There was supposed to be some interdepartmental cooperation between Langley and D.C., but the current directors took funding disparities to a Cold War-esque extreme. Not to mention they were in the middle of a divorce.

This whole situation, Mike thought, could have been avoided had my boss worked just a little harder on his marriage.

"We have to take these types of accusations seriously, sir," the agent said, coming at Harvey with another pair of handcuffs.

"No, you don't," Mike told them just as Hardman sighed mournfully.

"I, too, was shocked when I found out," he pontificated. "But I managed to gather enough proof to bring him to justice. I have a record of his correspondence with what seems to be Al Qaeda operatives. It's truly horrifying."

"It's completely ridiculous," said Jessica.

"Harvey wouldn't do this," Louis insisted, to everyone's surprise.

"I'm so sorry, everyone," said Hardman.

Mike jangled his handcuffs in supreme agitation.

"Dude, we've had you tapped for months!” he exploded. "You're so fucked. You used a gmail account to traffic weapons! How did you ever think that that was a good idea? Oh, and FYI, deleting mail doesn't actually mean it's deleted. Also, that account in the Caymans? Not so untouchable. Quit watching bad television."

"We?" the FBI agent said.

"Breast pocket," Mike sighed.

One of them reached in and took out Mike's wallet, which had a laminated ID with a really bad picture of him on it and a legit looking shield.

"Ah, shit," the Quantico graduate said. "He's totally CIA."

"What? Really?"

“Him?”

The fact that the entire office was visibly skeptical if not outright laughing at the idea of Mike being a secret agent was extremely rude and Mike told them so. 

"Can you arrest the actual bad guy now?” he sulked. “I have to go get reamed for blowing my cover. I might be Gitmo'd. I don't know. I'll write."

"Get out of my office," Jessica said to everyone.

--------

Pearson Hardman didn't really survive the whole 'affiliated with terrorism' thing after that. Mike was fired from the company, which made sense, and suspended from the CIA field work, which he thought was totally unfair.

Also, suggesting "Can't I blame this on the divorce?" hadn't gone over well. Shocker.

The big surprise though, was Harvey.

"I'm starting up my own firm," he told Mike, after he'd forgiven him for being a lying liar that lied. "Paulson Spector."

No one asked why Donna was name-partner, because duh.

Then Harvey said, "You should come work for us," as if Mike wasn't a total fraud and also a CIA operative.

But it was really tempting, was the thing. Once Mike was fired from his fake job, he realized that he didn't actually want to stop working with Harvey. They made a good team.

"You could keep me on retainer," Mike offered cheekily, before sobering. "Thanks though, Harvey, it sounds awesome, but... believe it or not, I actually do some useful stuff for the agency. When I'm not blowing my cover. Or getting arrested by the Feds. But we need to keep in touch, dude. We can't let Butch and Sundance be torn apart by Al Qaeda!"

And surprisingly...they did.

They texted mostly, though their messages weren't very profound.

 Sometimes they'd talk about Donna or Louis or Jessica. Sometimes Harvey would take pictures of food only found in New York and send them to Mike in Virginia so he could suffer. Mostly though, Mike tried his hardest to annoy Harvey to death.

___________

When Mike finally got another field assignment, this time in Kuwait, he emailed Harvey on the regular. As time passed their friendship blossomed into something neither of them could really define or even live without, so when he was on leave about six months after the Hardman debacle, Harvey and Mike met up at a cafe in midtown.

"Not tired of the spy life yet?" asked Harvey. "Offer still stands."

"Actually," said Mike. "I think I might take you up on that."

"Wait, really? What about the CIA?"

Mike shrugged. "There's only so many times you can crack the Voynich or poke Putin in the back before he turns around and rips your face off, and after a while you sort of miss the quiet life, so lawyering might be fun. Plus, you know, where would Batman be without Robin?"

"In that case,” Harvey answered. “Glad to have you on board." He grinned and reached out to shake Mike's hand. They didn't actually pull away though, so there was legit hand-holding happening. Awesome.

Mike beamed and made sexy eyes at his new boyfriend.

"But I'm totally Batman,” said Harvey, ruining the mood.

And like a loser in love, Mike let him have it. 

---

[bunnypatty]

1, 5, 12, and 25!!

1. have you ever been in love?

Maybe once, my past relationship has just now started to take a toll on me because I recently found out she cheated on me and I think maybe then

5. how many times have you read your favourite book?

Oh my god favorite book itself is such a hard question I've read so many good ones, I think right now it's The Symptoms Of Being Human by Jeff Garvin, therefore once and y'all n e e d to read that if you haven't the main character is gender fluid and a punk rock baby I love them so much 

12. what is your favourite song of all time?

This... Is even harder... Goddamn.......................... All The Small Things - blink-182.... I think... This question put so much pressure on me

25. what are you thinking about right now?

The fact that tomorrow a fascist Cheeto takes office and will have access to our nuclear codes