#and listen. Both of them are massive perpetrators for hating the fact that they want things.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This isn't what it looks like.

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[thelordofdarkreunion]

Hidden Secrets

I am finally back!  Sorry for the long delay without stories, but my life’s been rather hectic lately.  I have hopefully compensated with a very interesting storyline I’ve wanted to write for a while now.  Everyone has their secrets, and sometimes if they are revealed, things can come to a head...

“They say the only way to actually understand people is to see things through their eyes.  It won’t matter if they’re dead, though.”  -Thomas Drake

“What’s so wrong with loving an alien?  What is so wrong with loving someone, caring for them, being with them forever, so long as both parties are sentient?  Is it really such a bad thing?”  -Admiral Adam Vir, in a speech to the Galactic Assembly on xenophilia

“In all my travels to thousands of worlds, I have actually never met a xenophiliac.  I have, in fact, seen more Chaos cultists than xenophiles.  However, I can tell you this.  Xenophilia is a crime of unimaginable proportions.  It is almost as bad as selling your soul to the Dark Gods themselves.  It is something that no one, of any species, save perhaps the most absolute perverse of the Drukhari would even think of.  Even then, said Drukhari would most likely be spurned by their fellows.  It is a crime of such monstrosity that death is far too fair a fate for its perpetrators.”  -Inquisitor Amberly Vail of the Ordo Xenos

Aboard the Omen

Three figures sat around a table.  All were relaxed, slightly slouching in their seats.  The lights were not the uncomfortable brightness of the medical bays or halls, nor the dim-lit spaces of the engine rooms or hidden maintenance gantries.  It was a comfortable, cozy light, illuminating the fake wood of the table and the three that sat around it.  

“How the hell did we get on this topic of conversation?” asked Admiral Vir, his face swirling a myriad of colors: the green of his eyes, blond of his hair, black of his eyepatch, and currently, red of his face.  

“I’m not precisely sure,” drawled Commander Shepard, “But I believe it has something to do with our good comrade Quill over there complementing extra-terrestrial hips.”  

“Hey!  There is nothing wrong with pointing out that your chief engineer, despite wearing a face mask and enviro-suit all the time, is pretty hot.  Perfect, well-rounded figure,” replied Quill, grinning and adjusting his long, red-brown greatcoat.  “Though, it’s just an observation.  I’m already taken.  By an alien with just as good, if not better, hips.”  Vir buried his face in his hands, and Shepard just sighed.  “What I don’t get, though,” he continued, “Is why the hell Vir here is attracted to Sunny?  Listen, Gamora and Tali are hot.  They have ass.”  At this, Shepard groaned loudly and joined Vir with his head in his hands.  “I don’t get why you’re attracted to an eight foot tall, four armed, beaked, carapaced alien.  Unless you’re into some pretty… interesting… things.”  Vir looked over to Shepard.

“This is how this conversation’s going to go, isn’t it?” he said.  Shepard simply nodded.  

“Yeah,” he replied.  

“I mean, no judgement if you are,” continued Quill.  “I’ve done it with aliens a lot weirder than Drev.  If you’re into that sort of thing… whatever thing a Drev is, that’s fine.”  Vir simply sighed again.

“Jesus, Quill.”  He looked around, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to his companions.  “Alright.  Fine.”  He cracked his neck.  “You know what?  You want me to ‘fess up, I will.  I…”  He trailed off for a moment, working his jaw and wringing his hands before letting out a breath.  “I… like…”  He noticed the expectant looks of the other two at the table.  “Okay, fine, love… Sunny.”  He threw up his hands, face an even deeper shade of red, if at all possible.  “There.  Said it.  Please kill me.”  

“Well.  No offense Adam, but I wasn’t expecting you to start off with that,” replied Shepard.  

“Neither did I,” murmured Adam.  He looked over to Quill once more.  “It’s not that I like Drev.  It’s just that I like… her.  I…  She… Well…”

“C’mon Adam.  Spit it out.”  Vir sighed again.

“I love her.  No matter who or what she may be.  Not because she’s an alien.  Everything about her being… her.  If that makes sense,” he finished lamely.  Shepard and Quill, though, both nodded along sagely.  

“Yeah.  It does,” replied Shepard quietly.  “I… feel the same way.  In a way.”  He laughed.  “I guess tonight none of us are going to have a way with words.”  He let out a large sigh, and his eyes went distant, seeing things that existed a thousand miles away.  “I… think I do love Tali.  I think I do… but I haven’t even told her.”  He gave another laugh, this one much more bitter.  “I’m telling this all to you, but I haven’t even told her.  I… just… I don’t want to hurt her.”  He looked at his own scarred hands miserably.  “I’m a Spectre, and I’m running the most dangerous mission in the galaxy, on an unauthorized ship, and I just… don’t want anyone to hurt her.  And I don’t want to hurt her.  So I haven’t said anything,” he finished. ��

“Yeah,” replied Quill, much more soberly than his teasing before.  “I know how you both feel.  I was a bit of a playboy for a while,” he grinned.  His expression became serious once more.  “But, after I met Gamora, and… was in a world without her, for a bit, I finally understood.  What it meant.  To actually love someone.”  He gave his cocky smile once again.  “Despite, you know, her being a super-assassin who can and has kicked my ass on multiple occasions.”  Both Vir and Shepard laughed.  

“You know, it’s funny how just talking can make you see things differently.  Make the world seem better,” said Shepard.  He grinned at Vir.  “Thanks for inviting us over.”  Vir looked at him strangely, frowning.  

“What do you mean?  You invited us.  You said you wanted to talk, and talk on my ship.”  Shepard responded with an equally puzzled expression.  

“No, I didn’t,” he insisted.  “You invited us here.”  Quill nodded in conformation.  

“Yeah.  You invited us.”  

“No I didn’t!” shot back Vir.  

“Well if you didn’t, who did?” asked Shepard.  Their argument was broken by a new voice, filled with righteous hate and vengeance, as cold as an ice-world blizzard.  

“I did.”  Quill, Vir, and Shepard started.  They hadn’t even heard the door open.  The imposing figure of Commissar Ciaphas Cain, clad in his heavy black greatcoat, boots, and cap, swirled through the door, holding his laspistol at the ready.  Vir, being the one in most contact with Cain (Cain was stationed aboard his ship, after all), had heard stories from the Valhallan infantry about Imperial commissars.  They had all said how lucky they’d been to have Cain, as many commissars were hate-filled, imposing men and women who ruled through sheer terror.  Vir had laughed it off.  Cain was calm.  Cain was understanding.  Cain was always one to look for a solution to any problems, and prevent people from fighting.  Even when they had first met, when the Imperials, so unused to aliens, had tried to pick fights with the Omen’s crew, Cain had calmed things down.  He was the perfect officer.  

But now, Vir remembered the Valhallans’ stories.  Cain fit the description of a commissar perfectly now.  His massive height, the dark uniform, the eyes blazing with a hate that was so un-Cain like and outstretched laspistol made him a figure of nightmares from a totalitarian and xenophobic government.  Xenophobic…  Shit!  Apparently, all three men sitting at the table had the same idea at once, and made a motion to rise.  Cain tightened his grip on the laspistol, and flicked it clearly at each one of them in turn.  

“Ah, un uh.  Sit back down,” he hissed.  “Hands on the table.”  The three complied, lowering themselves back into their seats slowly.  Cain kept the gun pointed at them.  

“Cain?” asked Shepard hesitantly.  “What’s this about?”  

“I’m no fool,” replied Cain, “Though I think you believe me one.”  His gloved fingers tightened on the laspistol grip.  There was a brief pause as Cain glared at the three.

What made both Shepard and Vir such good commanding officers was their ability to read people.  They were experts at knowing what people were thinking, and how to react accordingly.  What shocked them both was the expression of pure betrayal behind Cain’s cold eyes.  That was an emotion neither of them expected.  

“I’d heard rumors, of course.  Some tabloid drama, accusing humanity's greatest heroes of xenophilia, of all things.”  Cain scoffed.  “Disgusting, I thought.  How dare they slander you so!”  Cain’s voice dropped from anger to pure fury.  “But then,” he hissed, “Then I heard more official reports.  I heard your speeches.  I saw pictures.  I heard rumors not from some disgusting two-bit reporter, but from your own crews.  I am not blind, though you might think me so.  And this?”  He waved his pistol around the room.  “You were humanity’s best.”  His voice dropped into a whisper, resonating with hurt and betrayal.  “I gave you a chance.  I thought it could not be so.  I thought that even though you served with aliens, they were subservient to you.  To humanity.  But now I have proof.  Proof of your degeneracy.  From your own mouths.  You confessed.  I gave you a chance to say otherwise, a second chance, but you… scum,” he finished, too angry for words.  He noticed their glances at the door and gave out a dark laugh.  “Oh, no.  There’s no one here to save you, traitors.  I made sure of it.”  

“So what now?” asked Shepard calmly, breaking the tension.  

“Now?” replied Cain, laspistol still pointed at the three.  “Now I kill you, as is my duty.  I lock this door, and pretend there is some urgent conference I need you for.  I tell Kasteen and Brocklaw to have Simone set a course to Watch Fortress Novus Galactica, and there the Inquisition will purge this ship, then return for the others.  There is no escape.”  Vir stood up, hands raised, fury on his face.  

“If I’m going to die I’m going to get my say.  I never did enough of that in life,” he said with a bitter laugh.  He fixed Cain with an equally furious stare, looking at the double-headed golden eagles on Cain’s cap and lapels.  Those eagles.  Those god-damned eagles.  “I’ve had enough of people like you.  I’ve had enough of trying to explain myself.  I’m not some sick fuck.  I’m not a degenerate.  I love an alien for who she is, not what she is.  And if you kill me, then you kill me,” he spat.  Cain smirked.

“So be it.”  He was interrupted by a sound.  A metallic click-click.  A sound known by every member in the room.  A sound known to almost every human and alien in existence.  A sound known by all who ever watched human movies, or fought human armies.  A sound that first came into existence in 1835 and was repeated every day, somewhere in human territory across nine galaxies ever since.  The sound of a revolver hammer being cocked.  

“Put the gun down, Commissar.”  The voice of Thomas Drake was smooth.  Unemotional, and uncaring at the drama unfolding in front of him.  His matt-black revolver, held by his dark gloves, was pointed at Cain’s head.  He was at a perfect distance, where Cain could not turn on him before being gunned down.  Vir still stood, Shepard and Quill both seated, their hands still up or on the table.  The only movement Cain made was to clench his jaw and extend his pistol arm farther.  

“Drake,” hissed Cain.  “I should have known.  You knew all their secrets.  You hid this from us!”  

“Of course,” replied Drake.  “Their actions are their own, though, and their secrets were not mine to give out.”  Cain’s hand squeezed the pistol grip even tighter, his augmetic fingers balancing it through his rage.

“I can still kill them, Drake.  I suggest you put your gun down before that happens,” he suggested, his voice tight.  Drake laughed.  

“Yes.  One.  Before I kill you.  One squeeze of the trigger I can’t prevent.  I can prevent two, though.  But you won’t.”  Drake’s voice was delighted, smiling wryly at a secret only he possessed.  “You won’t because I know you won’t.  You won’t because I know your secrets.  I read your book!  Your autobiography!” he announced with malicious triumph.  “I know how your mind works, and I know that you don’t want to die on this ship, or anywhere else, especially for the life of one measly heretic.  So you put your gun down, Commissar.”  Cain struggled for a moment, his muscles clenching and unclenching, before he finally gave a disgusted snort and tossed his laspistol on the table.  Vir, Quill, and Shepard let out breaths they didn’t know they were holding.  

“So then,” sneered Cain.  “What now, oh Captain Drake?  You have already proven you won’t kill me, and they cannot be allowed to live,” he said.  Drake merely smiled.  

“Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘To understand someone you must see the world through their eyes’?” he asked.  The other four occupants of the room nodded, unsure of where this was going.  “Well, that’s precisely what’s going to happen.  Let’s see if you’ll kill each other when you know precisely how you each operate.”  He gave a dark grin and gestured with his pistol at Vir, Shepard, and Quill.  “Now.  You three.  Put your weapons on the table,” he ordered.  The three stared at him in shock.  

“But… why?” replied Quill.  “You saved us,” he said, as if that explained his reasoning.  Drake simply laughed again.

“I like to be the only one in a room holding a weapon.  Especially in a situation as intense as this.  Now.  Guns on the table.  Vir, you aren’t carrying a weapon.  Shameful,” he drawled.  “Your pistols, Quill, and the knives I know you have in your sleeve and boot.  Your sidearm, Shepard.”  The three complied, Drake’s revolver now pointed at them as Cain scowled at the situation.  “Wonderful,” said Drake.  He took a step back, walking through the doorway, and gestured at the four men to follow him.  They complied grudgingly, still shooting death glares at each other.  Drake put a hand to the communications device in his left ear, not moving his gun arm an inch.  “Beam us up, Scotty,” he said simply.  With a whir and flash, the five disappeared from the Omen, only to suddenly see the hallways of the Enterprise around them.

“So.  Kirk and the Starfleet officers are in on this as well.  Why I am not surprised,” stated Cain, looking at his surroundings with grudging simplicity.  

“Maybe.  Maybe not,” replied Drake.  He lowered his pistol, finger coming off the trigger.  “No one’s here, either.  No help from the crew here.”  He tilted his head to a large grey door.  “In that room.”  Looking warily at his gun, trying and thinking how to take it from him all the while, the four followed Drake’s command.  The room was an empty expanse of darkness.  None of them could tell its purpose or how big it truly was.  

“What is this place?” asked Quill.  

“It's called a ‘holodeck’,” replied Drake.  “It is a room that is, essentially, a massive virtual reality.  It’s usually used for some sort of training simulation programs, but this time, I’ve made sure it can read memories.  Oh yeah,” he grinned.  “It can do that.  And that is what’s going to happen.  We are going to delve inside each of our minds, and see what makes us all tick.  Maybe if you see someone else’s entire life laid out in front of them from their point of view you’ll be less likely to kill them.”  Drake took in their apprehensive glances.  “Oh yes.  I know.  All of us have secrets.  And I’m sure none of you really trust this.  That’s why I’ll go first.  Let us begin.”

There we have it.  Cain can tolerate a lot of things, including working with aliens, but absolutely not romancing aliens.  I shall continue this story line, with all of these characters giving their own horrible memories.  As always, I own no one except Drake, and all characters belong to their original rightful owners.  If you have any criticisms, comments, concerns, questions, or requests, feel free to tell me!  

[saintambrose]

haha it’s US politics hours

listen, this tumblr has always been a fandom place since its inception and I’ve not really designated it as a space for political discussion because 1) I have several other avenues for that arena of discussion and 2) escapism was the theme here; but I’ve finally watched The Comey Rule and I have some THOUGHTS 

and I’m not really sure how active anyone is here anymore anyway, because I’ve not really been around as regularly as I was before the nsfw-ban shitstorm, so. Diving right in.

Probably my favorite thing was how it painted the American right wing as this faux-centrist bastion of impartiality at first, the whole circus with HiLLaRy’S EmAiLs being about how they legitimately believed they could play the angle that the emails were a threat to national security all while they knew damn well it was a huge big nothingburger (with a side of hatred of women) while doing that thing that right wingers have done since the Reagan administration where they malign anything left of fascism as communism (including basic human rights) and then, predictably, you have all these very furrowed-browed old white men sitting around a conference table being VERY CONCERNED that precisely the thing they wanted to happen came true and they are completely unprepared to do damage control on the mess they engineered because WHITE MEN ARE INCAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THE CONCEPT OF CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR OWN ACTIONS. 🤣😂🤣😂

In all seriousness. I wasn’t crazy about Hillary either. I don’t like dynasties of any kind, royal or political. I don’t like establishment dems who are really just center-right in the real world while masquerading as left in backwards-ass bizarro-world USA. But I’m an old motherfucker now, I’m well into my 30s, I’m boring and watch CSPAN for leisure and shit. I read the reports coming out of the DOJ. One of my degrees is in political science, though admittedly, that’s the least thing that matters, in the scope of everything else these days. But it’s safe to say Hillary was unfairly maligned while republicans committing atrocities exponentially worse have been treated with kid gloves for decades. A very distinct double standard has been applied here for....longer than I’ve been alive, that even the most educated people on the left have refused to acknowledge for far too long. I watched that entire BeNgHaZi hearing (which is easily accessible on youtube, so there’s literally no excuse not to know the facts on this), and everyone knew -- everyone knew it was a bullshit smear campaign. 

So, this post isn’t so much a review of the miniseries more than it’s an indictment of the corruption of American politics. The most damning aspect being that, on principle, US politics has always had a problem with embracing progressive policy, and basic civil rights in general. That’s not news; people have known this for some time. But the thing that this miniseries really illustrated in a very cartoonish, yet succinct, way is that there are experienced professionals who hold the highest, most powerful seats of authority in this country who won’t bat an eye at dedicating their entire careers to denigrating common decency, basic human rights, and even constitutional law, while being absolutely incapable of conceiving the long-term consequences of these actions, who will then turn around and concern troll over the ashes of the empire they enthusiastically helped to burn down. It’s nauseating. It’s infuriating. It shows a pathological disregard for personal responsibility.

Everyone was so preoccupied with their massive turgid erection for hating the Clintons (and women) that no one saw they were enthusiastically living in a henhouse built by fucking foxes. No one saw the genuine threat. 

And, by extension, no one had the balls to acknowledge that age-old instinct of white men willing to engage in a scorched earth campaign simply to satisfy their worst impulses and entitlement complexes. 

Can you fit “Who cares if we’re screwing over several generations with corrupt court-packing and a flagrant disregard for checks-and-balances predicated entirely on the honor system; we just don’t feel like doing domestic labor or respecting women and minorities so we’ll continue expediting reprehensible policies that exploit the most vulnerable people in this country because we can’t compete in an authentic meritocracy" onto a campaign slogan banner? 

I sounded the alarms on this trend 20 years ago, meanwhile. My parents and I had just gotten US citizenship, luckily months before 9/11 and the patriot act; and as an outsider looking in, as someone who had risked their life escaping a dangerous regime at an incredibly young age, I saw the warning signs in the republican party even back then. Naturally, I was denigrated as an alarmist and a butthurt liberal. 

You know, I’ll acknowledge that as a white person, I’m not the average American’s image of what an “immigrant” looks like. My experiences here over the past couple of decades have thrown into sharp relief how “immigrant” is just a dogwhistle for racist bullshit, because people who concern troll about us don’t seem to have many problems with us white ones. But I came out of a communist country. I’m straight outta the eastern bloc. And I don’t think there are any words in any spoken language that can do justice to how insulting it is when americans try to americasplain communism to me. Bitch. Y’all don’t fucking know. You just don’t.

The point is, even back then, I could see the slippery slope republicans were tumbling down, and I can't say I derive any pleasure from being vindicated in such an extreme fashion. Like. I told y’all motherfuckers. TWO DECADES AGO.

People who aren’t familiar with US politics, and even long-term US citizens who for some reason feel like it’s a waste to pay attention to your own shit, seem to spend a lot of time trying to unpack what precisely went wrong. My observations came up with 1) the manipulative aspect of US history in public schools glossing over, and even omitting, the most gruesome aspects of the revolutionary war, the holocaust, and the cold war (and oftentimes, the cold war is NEVER EVEN COVERED, which is especially insulting to me, for obvious reasons); 2) the manipulative aspect of US history in public schools teaching kids that the Declaration of independence and the Constitution are unassailable doctrines of freedom and liberty, and, as such, after independence was won, no further activism to maintain democracy was needed so we can all just smoke a bowl and be complacent because all those authoritarian third world regimes we constantly ridicule and criticize can NeVeR HaPPeN hErE 😒; and 3) how limpdick both-sidesism replaced civil, comprehensive political discussion because the right spent so long abusing, denigrating, and bullying the left that it was just easier to play it safe and take the milquetoast ~centrist~ stance, which always, always, always capitulates to the lowest common denominator, which is always the oppressor. 

And generally just this age-old trend of holding the victims of systematic oppression to a higher moral and behavioral standard than the perpetrators of systematic oppression. 

Guys, I’m tired. I’m so tired. 

I’ve gotten a few questions over the years about why my writing is so angsty, why it always seems to follow the same themes; war crimes, PTSD, gore, torture. 

I already escaped one authoritarian regime. The USA promised us one thing, and then once we got here, it started emulating the very tyrants we worked so hard to get away from. A lot of people have no idea what that feels like. How much of a betrayal that is. Especially considering all the financial and legal landmines one has to navigate just to do it, and then we’re punished for that, too.

I write about PTSD because I fucking have it. I write about war crimes because I’ve experienced them firsthand - just as a victim and not the perpetrator. I so often write about soldiers committing them because I want to roleplay what it’s like to not be a victim for once. 

tbh writing a fucking Hamilton fanfiction is one of the most cathartic things I’ve ever done, but the extensive research I’ve had to do to be able to write this thing has been low-key traumatic. There’s a lot of historical material I’ve consumed that should have been covered at the most basic level of compulsory education, but conspicuously isn’t. And I know that’s a feature, not a bug. It’s by design. 

Democracy - and independence, freedom, liberty, justice, civil rights in general - isn’t just some final xbox achievement that you unlock and then just shelve the game and forget about it for the rest of your life. You have to keep grinding to maintain it, because there will always be selfish, malicious people out there who will dedicate their entire lives playing a long con to ensure you don’t get the same opportunities as them. For the love of god, stop playing the both-sidesism game. From someone coming out of the eastern bloc, I can tell you with great confidence that that was part of the propaganda campaign you were fed to keep you from engaging so they could install a dictatorship under your nose. Do some self-guided historical research, guys. It can be very illuminating.

Anyway. I’ve gone on long enough here, but damn, don’t screw this up again, guys. Today is the first day of early voting in Texas, and I’m going to do my duty. When I first came to this country, after experiencing the rigorous vetting process and labyrinthine legal requirements of US citizenship, I was led to believe that in exchange for that privilege, I was personally responsible for my own civic self-education. It’s so much more important than you've been led to believe. 

[otterbagel]

A Dutiful Partnership- Gavin x Reader (Part 2)

[Part 1 Link]

  Reader is one of the first androids to get a degree outside of their original purpose. While they experience the struggles of working in a non-accepting environment, they must also solve a mysterious case involving an android murder with their not-so-willing partner, Gavin Reed.

   Reader and Gavin discuss their new partnership and find clues hidden in unsolved cases.

(Notes: This is really short, cause I wanted this scene to be by itself. Next part is pretty long and will be posted soon. I have another one-part thing coming out too, but it just wasn’t finished yet!)

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of death, bullying, threats, mentions of hate crimes, generally uncomfortable topics! (please be careful reading)

  You had became enraptured with the information on your terminal since you got back from your outing. It was quite difficult to sift through the massive amount of data put under the blanket term 'human-on-android violence', but you had come up with a few promising leads. In the five months since the revolution's end, there had been thousands of crimes under this label. 

  You tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling you got upon seeing how many were open or unsolved.

  One of the few that seemed similar was a PL600, who was found outside of his apartment building seventeen days ago. There had been no witnesses, but it had seemed as though he had been killed elsewhere. What got your attention was the fact that he had been missing an arm. 

  Two cases, both involving HK400 androids, were merely five days apart from each other. While both had different circumstances, both had been missing a limb. Another AX400, who had been found near a dumpster over a month ago, who's leg had been oddly taken off. 

  None had any suspects or leads, yet all seemed to match up quite well.

  You leaned back in your chair, staring at your screen with resolve. You could understand why no one had suspected a thirium gathering ring, but you couldn't understand why such blatant serial killer behavior went unnoticed. 

  "Hey Toaster," spoke Gavin from across your terminal.

  You leaned over your screen. "Hm?" you responded gently.

  "You... uh... do know its almost eight right?" He paid no attention to you as he clicked away at something on his computer.

  You checked the time. He was right. The entire office was empty. "Why are you still here?" you questioned.

  "Cause you didn't go home either, dipshit."

  "Why does that matter?"

  "I dunno, thought maybe you were doing something important," He mumbled, turning off his computer and standing up from his chair.

  You blinked. There was a feeling you weren't well acquainted with gripping you. "I've been here for one day and I've already made a breakthrough in, what seems to be, an ongoing issue here in Detroit."

  "Why do you talk like that? Its getting on my nerves."

  You watched his eyes. You wanted to say something neutral or possibly snarky to match his tone. But it was as if your words somehow got caught in your throat. "Like... what?"

  "You're so emotionless. Even for an android. Its weird."

  "I spent the entire five months of my existence working for an opportunity to have this career. I haven't had time to explore the realm of my emotions or interests yet." You gritted your teeth as you stared at a victim's picture on your monitor, hating the verbal confirmation of something you had been ignoring for quite a while.

  Gavin walked over to your side of the cubicle, leaning back against an empty space as he watched your screen. You observed him out of the corner of your vision as you pretended to focus on the task at hand. He tapped his hands on your desk. 

  "I get what you mean," he responded with a sigh. "I'm sure you know, but the unemployment rate is pretty fuckin' high. True for when I was younger, too." 

  You nodded, watching him with a blank expression.

  He leaned down, raising his eyebrows. "This was one of the only options I had. Even then, everyone knew it was just a matter of time before androids replaced cops too." He looked behind you, towards the old pods for the police androids. "It keeps you on your toes, you know? Knowing you could be replaced any day by somethin' you have no chance of competing with."

  You smirked. "Well, I don't have that many advantages compared to a human." You picked at your nails as you spoke. "But I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. I'm trying to learn."

  "Learn what?" he laughed in an unsure tone.

  "How to be a good partner, cop, person..." you responded. "And useful. I have to adjust to my lack of normal detective android abilities."

  "Wait, I didn't mean it like..." he shook his head.

  "What?"

  He groaned. "Listen, that was just me being a hardass. Don't take it too personal- even if it is true." he corrected.

  You smiled to yourself. "Yes, I get what you're saying. Thank you."

  "D-don't thank me for cussing you out," he mumbled. "the fuck's wrong with you..."

  Feeling a lot better about your situation, you turned your attention back to the file on your computer. "I noticed some similar cases to the one we had today," you started. "they're all androids that had limbs removed."

  "Yeah?" Gavin leaned down to inspect your screen. "That is kinda weird."

  You nodded, scrolling through the text. "Yes. I found it odd no one else noticed this pattern." 

  "Well, you're probably the only one who's done a full reading on them all." 

  You nodded in agreement. "That's a fair point." 

  He crossed his arms. "Are they taking body parts as souvenirs?"

  "I don't believe so. Its not the same part each time. Also, the limb is actually found in most instances," you explained. "I think removing a limb is the perpetrator's way of extracting thirium efficiently."

  "So its an easy and direct way of getting thirium from an android?" 

  "I think so, yes. And they're trying to hide it by doing it at different times to different androids. I beli-"

  "Wait-"

  "-eve the secondary damage to Claire's biocomponents was done in an effort to throw us off. What was you saying?"

  He pointed to the screen. "There is one thing they all have in common," 

  "What's that?"

  He looked between you and your desktop. "Well, they're all housekeeping models."

[cdc1345711]

The Prime Order: OCS Attack

(A Cloaked Figure was disrupting the Natural Order of the My Hero Universe by killing the League of Villains and after they fixed the disturbance the Prime Order faced the Perpetrator only to find out he was Chip.....Nephew of Sleep Master. After Chip was captured and put in his cell he finally told his Uncle the reason for his capture.....)

Chip:I had a few of my friends teleport you and your little team to our Universe to just kick your Ass"

Sleep Master:You think we're unprepared? Starla defenses"

Starla:On it Grandpa(she heads out)"

SM:(To his nephew)You realize you can't win right Nephew?"

Chip:Maybe...but your Band of Power Cunts never faced an Army bigger than the Cartoon-Force"

(Sleep Master just looks and turns not uttering a single word to Chip as through the hall Starla aka Dream Maker is heading straight for the Control room as she runs into her Teammates and Friends)

Devon:Hey Starla you saw the massive Army outside right?"

Starla:(Looks out the Window and sees them)HOLY MOLY THAT'S A LOTTA OCIES"

Marlon:Zella and Accel are activating the weapons until the shields are up"

Tamyra:Ain't that a little extreme?"

(A loud blast fired shaking their base)

Marlon:Better to be Extreme than sorry"

(Starla makes it to the Control Room and activates the Shields that in seconds cover the whole base)

Starla:Shields up"

(In the War Room)

Sleep Master:So exactly how many are out there?"

Maze:Seems either 100 thousand or a million we don't know"

Repulse:What we do know is it's a lot"

Set Zero:One thing Chip was right...bigger than the CFs"

Void:Least they had morals"

Trevor:Well.....what do we do?"

Starla:Well they're still blasting and beating the shield...no clue how much it can take"

Rachel:We could try reasoning with them?"

(Everyone looks at Rachel)

Zella:Hey can't hurt"

(Outside a holographic image of Sleep Master looks out to the Army of OCs as they cease their Onslaught)

General Mosse:Hold your fire....this is new"

Sleep Master:Creatures of this World I may not know the meaning of this attack or why you follow my Nephew in my Orderless chaos filled Crusade but I will give you this one chance to lay down your Arms and leave...."

Dani:And what about Chip?"

Sleep Master:...Though I admire the dedication my Nephew is too dangerous to be free so he will remain my prisoner.....but as I said I don't know why you follow him...maybe he's your leader...a friend...or the sort but I feel you must owe him nothing for he is the most violent and vulgar being I ever met in my entire life. So I ask you all to please lay down your Arms and leave"

(After silence the OC Army looks to each other and came to a solution......)

Wilfred(Anthro Stomach):LIGHT 'EM UP!!!!!"

(They all bombard their shield harder now)

Marlon:Got a way with words Sleeps"

Accel:They keep this up the shields will be down in an hour.....5 minutes if the generator blows"

(Sleep Master broods in silence thinking of what to do)

SM:We have one hour you say?....time to prepare"

(As they get ready the group sees Chip one last time)

Set Zero:You some really loyal Friends out there"

Chip:Honestly....some are friends some are acquaintances and the rest are just assholes I tolerate(sees Devon looking on him) what you want 4-eyes?"

Devon:I'm sorry it's just....It's hard to believe you're Mr.Seriphos' Nephew...no family resemblance"

Chip:Born through Life Alchemy boy...hence why I look pretty"

Rachel:Okay I call bologna because I watch Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood and I know for a fact Life Alchemy can't make life"

Chip:Huge difference Lassie...for one the Elrics tried to bring back a life with a soul...my Father wanted to create a soul using the usual components with a dash of his blood"

Sleep Master:Making you biologically my Nephew"

Chip:Huh King of the Order Cunts is here hazaaah"

SM:Gaw I hate your language...your Father never cussed"

Chip:Well you change when you're on your own and Life is just one giant Shit Sandwich that does nothing but bring you down"

SM:I'm going outside to try to reason with....your people"

Chip:Charles Coburn created them....you think they'll listen to reason?"

SM:At least I know Charles made one being that prefers diplomacy instead of Grit,Attitude with small minds and tiny egos"

Chip:Oh hohohoho they're gonna have fun kicking your Ass"

(Sleep Master Leaves while Starla looks at him and says...)

Starla:I...just want to ask one thing(Chip raises his Eye)did you really know my Dad?"

Chip:Yeah.....spent my childhood...or what was left of it with him as he and your uncle were training.....thought they'd least come to my rescue when......(doesn't finish)"

Starla:You lost your Dad......"

Chip:Hmmm from a fucked up stand point you and me are the same"

Starla:The Same?"

Chip:Except we both met at the crossroads or saw the light or some Bullshit and why you went the right way or kept looking I strayed away and blinked.....and you had your Grandpa while I had little to no friends"

Devon:(Crying)Oh man.....this is some real Anti-Hero Origin story stuff right here...."

(10 minutes later)

Zella:(Inspecting his Gauntlets and feet)Hmm telling by the worn out dark gray and the little rust your gauntlets seemed to be a few hundred years old"

Chip:421 to be precise.....my Dad made them since I was born without hands or feet"

Accel:Yeah gotta ask you call your creator 'Father' because he created you or..."

Chip:He used his own blood to make me(he said aggravated) so he is my biological Father"

Accel:Not sure that's how genetics works"

Chip:.......(To Zella)when I escape I'm kicking your Boyfriend's Ass"

Zella/Accel:I'm/He's NOT MY BOYFRIEND"

Chip:Sure......"

(Another loud blast hits the shields as Marlon looks at Chip)

Marlon:Wooo your pals are really hitting us hard they must really want you back?"

Chip:Eh more of a 'Brothers In Arms' type thing"

Marlon:Huh...long time since we last talked....Me You Sleeps and the Boys....."

Chip:Yeah....hey did Nathan really go Bat Shit crazy hating his Dad?"

Marlon:Blamed him for Junior's Death....if we found Set Zero maybe....look not saying I'm against your methods...Hell Lethal Force should be used but what I saw...oof not even Desert Storm was that bloody"

Chip:I have the power to beat the Shit out of Evil Fucks"

Marlon:Yeah yeah heard this schtick before.....(leaves but looks back saying)I know you're going to escape but promise when you do don't hurt the kids....they're good people"

Chip:Unless one becomes an Evil Tyrant I won't lay a finger on them"

Marlon:Thanks Chip...."

(The Prime Order Meets out on the bay doors)

SM:The Hour is up....Dream Maker Marlon and Void will stay behind with the others as Me Repulse Maze Accel and Zella go and fight Set Zero stay behind on standby when we need you"

Set Zero:Right Boss"

Sleep Master:Our main priority is to make sure they don't rescue Chip....do what you must but don't kill them only maim or subdue"

(The Doors open as the 5 launch drop into the battle as more and more adversaries come at them they all 5 stand their ground with Sleep Master knocking them out,Repulse stabbing and cutting himself and transferring his pain to his attackers,Maze mind manipulating them,Accel Accelerating their atoms and Zella uses their defenses to blast them....while trying to not kill them)

SM:Hold our Ground my Order....HOLD"

(In the distance Wilfred looks at the chaos and calls someone)

Wilfred:POs are busy move on to the next phase"

"Roger Wilfred...."

(Inside the Prime Order base a sort of loud slicing sound can be heard as a large circle was made and tossed aside as figures appear out of it with the leader being.....)

Ari:We're in,now then......(To Caroline, Sheriff Star, Ozlo the Ass,Kurtos,Nibbs Copp and Rankendean enter the base)Let's save our Chip"

(To Be Continued)

[tomfooleryprime]

I don’t know how else to explain to people that fascism is bad and opposing fascism isn’t “just as bad”

Imagine a first-grade classroom where a group of bullies viciously beats up another boy just for being different. The parents get involved, the bullies get suspended for a few days, and the whole school has an assembly about how bullying is bad. But time passes, the bullies come back to school, and the bullied boy’s bruises fade. The teacher keeps a close eye on them, and though the bullies don’t deliver any more horrendous beatings or make any more overt threats, the kid who was beaten up never stops being afraid.

Second grade passes, then third, and all the while, the kid who was beaten up never quite forgets how badly those bullies beat him up. Sometimes they utter an occasional sneer, but the teacher is pretty good at keeping things in check and the boy makes some friends who have his back. The next thing you know, fourth grade passes and then fifth, and the friends of the kid who was beaten up tell him to “get over it, because that was back in first grade and the bullies haven’t acted that way in years.”  

Then in the sixth grade, they go to middle school, where the administration is a lot more tolerant of bullies. The school administration even makes jokes about how weak kids need to be beaten up to make them tougher. Bullies are rarely punished, and when they are, it’s little more than a slap on the wrist.

The bullies feel a bit more empowered, and one day they shove their old victim into a door and get away with it. The day after that, they stuff him in a trashcan and draw threatening messages on his locker, reminding him that they don’t like him because he’s different. They write graffiti on the bathroom walls, reminding everyone else that they really hate kids who are different, but most people roll their eyes and ignore it because they learned a hard lesson about bullying in the first grade and assume bullying was a thing of the past.  

But it is happening again, and it never really stopped happening, it just stopped being as obvious. Until now. The bullied boy complains to his teachers, who shrug it off as whining. The bully meanwhile starts recruiting his friends to hate the boy who is different, and their hatred becomes more brazen and open, but all the school administrators do is shrug it off as “typical pre-teen behavior.”

Then one day on the schoolyard, the bullies, no longer afraid of getting in trouble for the things they say and do, call their friends together on the playground and start chanting about how much they hate people who are different. It really starts upsetting the kids who are different and many of their friends, and the boy who was bloodied by the leader of the bullies in the first grade is tired of listening to it. He takes a stand and rallies the kids who are different to speak out against these bullies. Some of them have different ideas about how to do this, and in the end, and no one really knows who threw the first punch, but a huge fight breaks out. Yes, bullies and bullied alike are involved, and there are broken noses and black eyes on both sides.

Now imagine the school principal is best friends with all of the bullies’ parents, and he’s getting a lot of pressure to go easy on the bullies, so he decides everyone should share the blame. Imagine the school principal claiming the bullied kids are “just as responsible” as the bullies for what happened on the playground. Imagine the principal blaming the bullied kids and trying to say that none of this would have ever happened if the bullied kids had just told their teachers, despite the fact that the teachers rarely listened their complaints before. Imagine the principal saying the bullied kids are just as violent and bad as the bullies, despite the overwhelming number of incidents perpetrated by bullies at this school over the years. Imagine the principal saying he doesn’t condone bullying, but the bullied kids are bullies too, and if you really think about it, the bullies are the “real victims” here because they weren’t physically hurting anyone by being on the playground and chanting about how much they hate the kids who are different.

By shifting blame, we legitimize the bullies at the expense of the kids who are bullied. No, violence should never be the answer, but when someone else started it a long time ago and refuses to let go, we shouldn’t be surprised when those bullied kids eventually fight back and we certainly shouldn’t blame them in the same way that we blame the bullies. We also shouldn’t forget to blame the school, who not only ignored the problem, but indirectly encouraged it by promoting certain policies and hiring teachers and administrators who allowed the problem to flourish to the point where a massive brawl occurred on the playground.

Free speech is a cornerstone of the American way, but we decided long ago that not all speech is free. We can’t incite violence or cry “fire” in a crowded theater. We can’t harass or slander people. The Constitution guarantees a right to free speech, but it doesn’t protect against the social consequences of that speech and it doesn’t guarantee a platform on which to utter it. We can’t stop anyone from saying or believing whatever they want as individuals, but we don’t have to give them the run of the playground under the guise of saying, “it’s the American way,” particularly when certain groups have a storied history of taking violent speech and converting it to violent action.