#fracture lines

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The true, tactical significance of Project 2025

TODAY (July 14), I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Like you, I have heard a lot about Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation's roadmap for the actions that Trump should take if he wins the presidency. Given the Heritage Foundation's centrality to the American authoritarian project, it's about as awful and frightening as you might expect:

https://www.project2025.org/

But (nearly) all the reporting and commentary on Project 2025 badly misses the point. I've only read a single writer who immediately grasped the true significance of Project 2025: The American Prospect's Rick Perlstein, which is unsurprising, given Perlstein's stature as one of the left's most important historians of right wing movements:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-07-10-project-2025-republican-presidencies-tradition/

As Perlstein points out, Project 2025 isn't new. The Heritage Foundation and its allies have prepared documents like this, with many identical policy prescriptions, in the run-up to many presidential elections. Perlstein argues that Warren G Harding's 1921 inaugural address captures much of its spirit, as did the Nixon campaign's 1973 vow to "move the country so far to the right 'you won’t even recognize it.'"

The threats to democracy and its institutions aren't new. The right has been bent on their destruction for more than a century. As Perlstein says, the point of taking note of this isn't to minimize the danger, rather, it's to contextualize it. The American right has, since the founding of the Republic, been bent on creating a system of hereditary aristocrats, who govern without "interference" from democratic institutions, so that their power to extract wealth from First Nations, working people, and the land itself is checked only by rivalries with other aristocrats. The project of the right is grounded in a belief in Providence: that God's favor shines on His best creations and elevates them to wealth and power. Elite status is proof of merit, and merit is "that which leads to elite status."

When a wealthy person founds an intergenerational dynasty of wealth and power, this is merely a hereditary meritocracy: a bloodline infused with God's favor. Sometimes, this belief is dressed up in caliper-wielding pseudoscience, with the "good bloodline" reflecting superior genetics and not the favor of the Almighty. Of course, a true American aristocrat gussies up his "race realism" with mystical nonsense: "God favored me with superior genes." The corollary, of course, is that you are poor because God doesn't favor you, or because your genes are bad, or because God punished you with bad genes.

So we should be alarmed by the right's agenda. We should be alarmed at how much ground it has gained, and how the right has stolen elections and Supreme Court seats to enshrine antimajoritarianism as a seemingly permanent fact of life, giving extremist minorities the power to impose their will on the rest of us, dooming us to a roasting planet, forced births, racist immiseration, and most expensive, worst-performing health industry in the world.

But for all that the right has bombed so many of the roads to a prosperous, humane future, it's a huge mistake to think of the right as a stable, unified force, marching to victory after inevitable victory. The American right is a brittle coalition led by a handful of plutocrats who have convinced a large number of turkeys to vote for Christmas.

The right wing coalition needs to pander to forced-birth extremists, racist extremist, Christian Dominionist extremists (of several types), frothing anti-Communist cranks, vicious homophobes and transphobes, etc, etc. Pandering to all these groups isn't easy: for one thing, they often want opposite things – the post-Roe forced birth policies that followed the Dobbs decision are wildly unpopular among conservatives, with the exception of a clutch of totally unhinged maniacs that the party relies on as part of a much larger coalition. Even more unpopular are policies banning birth control, like the ones laid out in Project 2025. Less popular still: the proposed ban on no-fault divorce. Each of these policies have different constituencies to whom they are very popular, but when you put them together, you get Dan Savage's "Husbands you can't leave, pregnancies you can't prevent or terminate, politicians you can't vote out of office":

https://twitter.com/fakedansavage/status/1805680183065854083

The constituency for "husbands you can't leave, pregnancies you can't prevent or terminate, politicians you can't vote out of office" is very small. Almost no one in the GOP coalition is voting for all of this, they're voting for one or two of these things and holding their noses when it comes to the rest.

Take the "libertarian" wing of the GOP: its members do favor personal liberty…it's just that they favor low taxes for them more than personal liberty for you. The kind of lunatic who'd vote for a dead gopher if it would knock a quarter off his tax bill will happily allow his coalition partners to rape pregnant women with unnecessary transvaginal ultrasounds and force them to carry unwanted fetuses to term if that's the price he has to pay to save a nickel in taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#tolerable-racism

And, of course, the religious maniacs who profess a total commitment to Biblical virtue but worship Trump, Gaetz, Limbaugh, Gingrich, Reagan, and the whole panoply of cheating, lying, kid-fiddling, dope-addled refugees from a Jack Chick tract know that these men never gave a shit about Jesus, the Apostles or the Ten Commandments – but they'll vote for 'em because it will get them school prayer, total abortion bans, and unregulated "home schooling" so they can brainwash a generation of Biblical literalists who think the Earth is 5,000 years old and that Jesus was white and super into rich people.

Time and again, the leaders of the conservative movement prove themselves capable of acts of breathtaking cruelty, and undoubtedly many of them are depraved sadists who genuinely enjoy the suffering of their enemies (think of Trump lickspittle Steven Miller's undisguised glee at the thought of parents who would never be reunited with children after being separated at the border). But it's a mistake to think that "the cruelty is the point." The point of the cruelty is to assemble and maintain the coalition. Cruelty is the tactic. Power is the point:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/09/turkeys-voting-for-christmas/#culture-wars

The right has assembled a lot of power. They did so by maintaining unity among people who have irreconcilable ethics and goals. Think of the pro-genocide coalition that includes far-right Jewish ethno-nationalists, antisemitic apocalyptic Christians who believe they are hastening the end-times, and Islamophobes of every description, from War On Terror relics to Hindu nationalists.

This is quite an improbable coalition, and while I deplore its goals, I can't help but be impressed by its cohesion. Can you imagine the kind of behind-the-scenes work it takes to get antisemites who think Jews secretly control the world to lobby with Zionists? Or to get Zionists to work alongside of Holocaust-denying pencilneck Hitler wannabes whose biggest regret is not bringing their armbands to Charlottesville?

Which brings me back to Project 2025 and its true significance. As Perlstein writes, Project 2025 is a mess. Clocking in an 900 pages, large sections of Project 2025 flatly contradict each other, while other sections contain subtle contradictions that you wouldn't notice unless you were schooled in the specialized argot of the far right's jargon and history.

For example, Project 2025 calls for defunding government agencies and repurposing the same agencies to carry out various spectacular atrocities. Both actions are deplorable, but they're also mutually exclusive. Project 2025 demands four different, completely irreconcilable versions of US trade policy. But at least that's better than Project 2025's chapter on monetary policy, which simply lays out every right wing theory of money and then throws up its hands and recommends none of them.

Perlstein says that these conflicts, blank spots and contradictions are the most important parts of Project 2025. They are the fracture lines in the coalition: the conflicting ideas that have enough support that neither side can triumph over the other. These are the conflicts that are so central to the priorities of blocs that are so important to the coalition that they must be included, even though that inclusion constitutes a blinking "LOOK AT ME" sign telling us where the right is ready to split apart.

The right is really good at this. Perlstein points to Nixon's expansion of affirmative action, undertaken to sow division between Black and white workers. We need to get better at it.

So far, we've lavished attention on the clearest and most emphatic proposals in Project 2025 – for understandable reasons. These are the things they say they want to do. It would be reckless to ignore them. But they've been saying things like this for a century. These demands constitute a compelling argument for fighting them as a matter of urgency, with the intention of winning. And to win, we need to split apart their coalition.

Perlstein calls on us to dissect Project 2025, to cleave it at its joints. To do so, he says we need to understand its antecedents, like Nixon's "Malek Manual," a roadmap for destroying the lives of civil servants who failed to show sufficient loyalty to Nixon. For example, the Malek Manual lays out a "Traveling Salesman Technique" whereby a government employee would be given duties "criss-crossing him across the country to towns (hopefully with the worst accommodations possible) of a population of 20,000 or under. Until his wife threatens him with divorce unless he quits, you have him out of town and out of the way":

https://www.google.com/books/edition/Final_Report_on_Violations_and_Abuses_of/0dRLO9vzQF0C?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=%22organization+of+a+political+personnel+office+and+program%22&pg=PA161&printsec=frontcover

It's no coincidence that leftist historians of the right are getting a lot of attention. Trumpism didn't come out of nowhere – Trump is way too stupid and undisciplined to be a cause – he's an effect. In his excellent, bestselling new history of the right in the early 1990s, When the Clock Broke, Josh Ganz shows us the swamp that bred Trump, with such main characters as the fascist eugenicist Sam Francis:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374605445/whentheclockbroke

Ganz joins the likes of the Know Your Enemy podcast, an indispensable history of reactionary movements that does excellent work in tracing the fracture lines in the right coalition:

https://www.patreon.com/posts/when-clock-broke-106803105

Progressives are also an uneasy coalition that is easily splintered. As Naomi Klein argues in her essential Doppelganger, the liberal-left coalition is inherently unstable and contains the seeds of its own destruction:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Liberals have been the senior partner in that coalition, and their commitment to preserving institutions for their own sake (rather than because of what they can do to advance human thriving) has produced generations of weak and ineffectual responses to the crises of terminal-stage capitalism, like the idea that student-debt cancellation should be means-tested:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/03/utopia-of-rules/#in-triplicate

The last bid for an American aristocracy was repelled by rejecting institutions, not preserving them. When the Supreme Court thwarted the New Deal, FDR announced his intention to pack the court, and then began the process of doing so (which included no-holds-barred attacks on foot-draggers in his own party). Not for nothing, this is more-or-less what Lincoln did when SCOTUS blocked Reconstruction:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/20/judicial-equilibria/#pack-the-court

But the liberals who lead the progressive movement dismiss packing the court as unserious and impractical – notwithstanding the fact that they have no plan for rescuing America from the bribe-taking extremists, the credibly accused rapist, and the three who stole their robes. Ultimately, liberals defend SCOTUS because it is the Supreme Court. I defended SCOTUS, too – while it was still a vestigial organ of the rights revolution, which improved the lives of millions of Americans. Human rights are worth defending, SCOTUS isn't. If SCOTUS gets in the way of human rights, then screw SCOTUS. Sideline it. Pack it. Make it a joke.

Fuck it.

This isn't to argue for left seccession from the progressive coalition. As we just saw in France, splitting at this moment is an invitation to literal fascist takeover:

https://jacobin.com/2024/07/melenchon-macron-france-left-winner

But if there's one thing that the rise of Trumpism has proven, it's that parties are not immune to being wrestled away from their establishment leaderships by radical groups:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos

What's more, there's a much stronger natural coalition that the left can mobilize: workers. Being a worker – that is, paying your bills from wages, instead of profits – isn't an ideology you can change, it's a fact. A Christian nationalist can change their beliefs and then they will no longer be a Christian nationalist. But no matter what a worker believes, they are still a worker – they still have a irreconcilable conflict with people whose money comes from profits, speculation, or rents. There is no objectively fair way to divide the profits a worker's labor generates – your boss will always pay you as little of that surplus as he can. The more wages you take home, the less profit there is for your boss, the fewer dividends there are for his shareholders, and the less there is to pay to rentiers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

Reviving the role of workers in their unions, and of unions in the Democratic party, is the key to building the in-party power we need to drag the party to real solutions – strong antimonopoly action, urgent climate action, protections for gender, racial and sexual minorities, and decent housing, education and health care.

The alternative to a worker-led Democratic Party is a Democratic Party run by its elites, whose dictates and policies are inescapably illegitimate. As Hamilton Nolan writes, the completely reasonable (and extremely urgent) discussion about Biden's capacity to defeat Trump has been derailed by the Democrats' undemocratic structure. Ultimately, the decision to have an open convention or to double down on a candidate whose campaign has been marred by significant deficits is down to a clutch of party officials who operate without any formal limits or authority:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-hole-at-the-heart-of-the-democratic

Jettisoning Biden because George Clooney (or Nancy Pelosi) told us to is never going to feel legitimate to his supporters in the party. But if the movement for an open convention came from grassroots-dominated unions who themselves dominated the party – as was the case, until the Reagan revolution – then there'd be a sense that the party had constituents, and it was acting on its behalf.

Reviving the labor movement after 40 years of Reaganomic war on workers may sound like a tall order, but we are living through a labor renaissance, and the long-banked embers of labor radicalism are reigniting. What's more, repelling fascism is what workers' movements do. The business community will always sell you out to the Nazis in exchange for low taxes, cheap labor and loose regulation.

But workers, organized around their class interests, stand strong. Last week, we lost one of labor's brightest flames. Jane McAlevey, a virtuoso labor organizer and trainer of labor organizers, died of cancer at 57:

https://jacobin.com/2024/07/jane-mcalevey-strategy-organizing-obituary

McAlevey fought to win. She was skeptical of platitudes like "speaking truth to power," always demanding an explanation for how the speech would become action. In her classic book A Collective Bargain, she describes how she built worker power:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

McAlevey helped organize a string of successful strikes, including the 2019 LA teachers' strike. Her method was straightforward: all you have to do to win a strike or a union drive is figure out how to convince every single worker in the shop to back the union. That's all.

Of course, it's harder than it sounds. All the problems that plague every coalition – especially the progressive liberal/left coalition – are present on the shop floor. Some workers don't like each other. Some don't see their interests aligned with others. Some are ornery. Some are convinced that victory is impossible.

McAlevey laid out a program for organizing that involved figuring out how to reach every single worker, to converse with them, listen to them, understand them, and win them over. I've never read or heard anyone speak more clearly, practically and inspirationally about coalition building.

Biden was never my candidate. I supported three other candidates ahead of him in 2020. When he got into office and started doing a small number of things I really liked, it didn't make me like him. I knew who he was: the Senator from MBNA, whose long political career was full of bills, votes and speeches that proved that while we might have some common goals, we didn't want the same America or the same world.

My interest in Biden over the past four years has had two areas of focus: how can I get him to do more of the things that will make us all better off, and do less of the things that make the world worse. When I think about the next four years, I'm thinking about the same things. A Trump presidency will contain far more bad things and far fewer good ones.

Many people I like and trust have pointed out that they don't like Biden and think he will be a bad president, but they think Trump will be much worse. To limit Biden's harms, leftists have to take over the Democratic Party and the progressive movement, so that he's hemmed in by his power base. To limit Trump's harms, leftists have to identify the fracture lines in the right coalition and drive deep wedges into them, shattering his power base.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/14/fracture-lines/#disassembly-manual

[shroomerr]

Finally, my design for Mysterion!! this boy gave me so much heartache in the process of making this but its ok its all worth it for him <3

I also couldn't choose between the version with hair or without hair, so here's the one without under the cut (+ my initial drafts for his design):

[fluffylord]

TWELFTH DOCTOR S09 E00 | LAST CHRISTMAS

[sovamurka]

my brain goes brrrrrrrr after so few hours of sleep BUT you won't believe how much timebomb content I just got

Fractured Jinx voice lines?

CRAZY. all three versions of Jinx talk to him differently and yet all three share one trait - they care. A LOT. she cares and has certain feelings towards him that she can't really put into words that well. she's not at all antagonistic towards him, even when she taunts him.

These ones break my heart honestly because they're not said mockingly. There is no malice, or joke. They're said with exasperation and sadness. She especially can't bear the way he looks at her (you should hear it yourself honestly).

Jinx ruins fixes everything?

THEY SHOWED US THE FIRELIGHT TREE. It seems like it happened a little bit after they sincerely talked with each other. Ekko showed her his little paradise and it's the first time we see so much light in this game. The entire place is so warm even Jinx herself warms up, she's is both calm and excited, she's... hopeful, actually. Ekko, what did you tell her? How did you console her? What kind of hug technique did you use to make her so hopeful?

Jinx assembled her final weapon (and named it Rhino) in Ekko's engineering room after exploring the room for spare details. She also finds a photo of Ekko and Benzo.

And when we explore the entire hideout... We encounter their circle bike that they build and upgraded together (yes, the one we saw when we explored Benzo's shop in Wild Rift, yes, the one that only he and Powder could use because Ekko did not allow anyone else to use it).

And oh... Did you know that she still can't forget the way he looked at her on the bridge? And that she never will?

This one obliterated me, actually.

[randomsufff]

I’m cooking so hard- these aren’t even all the doodles I wanted to draw of these little guys lol

First two doodles are inspired by other posts- the sunflower image is from this post by leeyzart - though they did a more wholesome comic with it 💀 and the Umbrella Academy car meme was inspired by this post by saprozoicworm - the doodle on the bottom left reminded me of it, though idk if that was an intentional reference

The Creek comic is inspired by my head canon that Tweek wears, like, combat or just heavy duty snow boots and Craig wears Converse. Probably a widespread fan canon, but as a girlie who has always worn converse, even to her restaurant job which I don’t recommend, I have almost slip or actually slipped so many times, and I wanted to draw Craig going through that lmao

Second comic is a thought I had when playing TFBW cause there’s this one cutscene, after you defeat Professor Chaos on the roof of the U-Store-It, where Stan does his thing where he flies up using his tape measure or whatever, but WE’RE ON THE ROOF??? WHAT ARE YOU HOOKING ONTO?????? And I thought it was a funny visual if Jesus just was picking his up, cause how else would you explain that (I guess it could be like ~imagination~ but that’s not as funny

[mx-river-styx]

GUESS WHO GOT TO MEET THEIR FAVORITE AUTHOR A FEW DAYS BEFORE THEIR BIRTHDAY!!?!?!!! Super fun book signing, Andrew Joseph White is such a chill nice guy. If you haven’t yet, GO READ HIS BOOKS!!!!! (if you’re okay with lots of body horror)

Also featuring: the crochet Benji doll I made. Yes I know he looks deformed in the photo, I didn’t stuff him very well so he gets like that. He’s also not used to traveling beyond my bookcase, so going on a one hour drive to Maryland was very stressful.

Here’s what he looks like under ideal conditions, more photos and info on my Pinterest:

[fatedroses]

He is here to stare into his soul.

[specialfanboying]

i will fight to the death to defend killing game takemaru. like i know he's contentious but i played killing game early and spent the entire rest of the game chasing the high of him on that route. like imo it's him at his messiest and worst, but also incredibly revealing of the kind of person he is in a way i can't get enough of

first, i'll argue that i think he has a good reaosn to distrust takumi. he trusts him on day 1, and then takumi kills someone for what feels like a flimsy reason. despite this, he trusts takumi again, and takumi exploits his heart to get him to join the killing game, which kills at lest one more person and puts them all in danger. after that, i kinda get not wanting to trust takumi a third time.

but also! i think him going so black and white morality there makes a sort of sense with his character. something really interesting about takemaru imo is that despite that he visibly has a heart of gold...there are characters who struggle with killing enemy commanders and he is consistently not one of them. he's one of the few to smile when executing a commander, and even when they're begging for their lives, doesn't budge at all. he can be deeply kind and protective when it's someone he believes in saving. and usually, that's a good thing, as he believes strongly in protecting the team, the weak, women, and children. when it's someone who isn't on that list? then he doesn't hesitate or give mercy. as takumi learns the hard way in that route.

but also, we get to see his kindness in action. i love love love how he adopts the twins in killing game, who...let's be honest, without him, would almost certainly die. i think one of the best/most intersting moments there is when he tries to kill eva to save them, because he usually does believe in not harming women. but the situation's bad enough that he has the sadistic choice of letting one of the twins die or compromising his morals. it's a really interesting look at what happens when two tightly held values come into conflict and he has to choose. and he chooses the twins over everything.

idk i like him at his nice too but seeing him at his stressed and mean and just hunkered down and focused on keeping these two poor sad orphans alive at all costs is super interesting and eventually tragic. it's a fun flavor of "bad" for the bad boy, and i like how it probably does a lot for the twins, who haven't had anyone else but each other show that kind of prioritizing them above all else.

[andi-o-geyser]

actually i’ve come to the conclusion after finishing andor and sitting in it for around a week that the sequels were actually fucked from the start. like yeah, no shit from a development and story perspective they were a mess because there was no plan but on a BASIC LEVEL they were fucked because there is a fundamental lack of creativity. yes there is always a push and pull between fascism and democracy, yes it makes sense that people seek power and after swinging far left you then often swing back far right. but none of that should have been the first order. it’s just at a basic level a very uninteresting enemy to examine. we already did that song and dance, and the complete lack of any explication (completely ignoring the whole later palpatine angle because we all agree the writers should be shot and quartered for that) for how another galaxy spanning empire rose not even 20 years after the end of the previous one which lasted almost the exact same amount of time is bonkers. i actually really enjoy the force awakens, i think it’s a fun movie, but it is to its own detriment that it is a legacy sequel with nothing new to say because that means there IS NO STORY. like i honest to god at this point find that for me, the story ends after return of the jedi. that’s it. because it is such lazy damn writing to have actually nothing to say and no creativity to make a new threat. we all think the aesthetic of the empire is cool, we get it. there is no world in which it should pull main focus. and i’m not saying i have a better idea, but all i know is they should have been starting from square one and not relied on the originals at all. the vibe of the prequels is so distinct from the original trilogy for a reason, and that’s because there was an actually separate (not completely, but you get what i mean) story to tell. the basic failure of the sequels was that there was never anything there. we did this song and dance already. we already liked it. this detracts from everything before and devalues and idea that there can ever be change or completion, because what’s the damn point if the same empire won’t stop coming back? there have been thousands of years with different power structures and orders ruling the galaxy or fighting for control, and to think that the fucking empire/first order and any carbon cutout following them is the only option is lazy. i just. it’s fucking lazy it’s uninteresting and lazy and there’s nothing to be saved because it decided it NEEDS to work off of the status quo of the heroes being the underdog. i promise, i PROMISE you there is so much more to explore. also jj abrams meet me on a cliff at dawn i just wanna talk

[volivolition]

Super! Tip-top!

[ahsokathegray]

Faded Lines, Fractured Youth

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: @rexsoka-monthly Jan. ‘25 - Jealous

Summary: Bail pairs Rex with an unlikely parter for a small mission.

Tags: clone cure, post-order 66, post-bad batch s3, language, lux bonteri, fix-it fic

Word Count: 5,921

A/N: this idea has been spinning like a hot rotisserie chicken in my brain soo here it is released from the heat lamp

read on ao3! / masterlist

He must’ve reread the mission brief fifteen times, eyes raking over the same details again and again. 

Mission: Imperial defect extraction

Intel Source: Gerrera 

Planet: Hosnian Prime

Coordinates: M12-94.93, M12-853.25

Aide: Lux Bonteri

It wasn’t the lack of detail that stood out to the Captain, but rather the person in which he was being paired with for this mission. 

“Something wrong, Rex?” Bail asked genuinely, the concern in his eyes ever warm and true. The Senator wouldn’t have known he and Bonteri were acquainted, had no reason to. This was sole unfortunate luck.

Rex looked up from the datapad and stored it. “I just wasn’t expecting to see a familiar name is all. It was my understanding that Gerrera’s remaining bridges with our Rebellion were burned,” he answered honestly, leaving out any distaste that might’ve arisen had he mentioned Lux. 

“It’s true, he isn’t labelled a radical without reason; we have publically distanced ourselves from him. Senator Mothma’s opinions are… sound, however, there is value in working together where we can. Our common enemy is what maintains our allyship with Saw. He’s extended this intel to us in order to assist Mon Mothma’s private interests. It’s best she not know who is involved.” 

“And Lux Bonteri?” Rex asked. 

Bail nodded, “Is a close second to Saw as I understand it. He was the son of a dear friend, the previous Senator of—”

“Onderon,” Rex finished for him. “I was there when they took their planet back during its civil war. My men and I helped turn Gerrera’s people into fighters. Bonteri was among them. We didn’t know it then, but I reckon’ we were training the first batch of rebels.”

The graying Senator offered him a solemn smile, knowing well who all had accompanied Rex on such a mission. His heart swelled bittersweetly for his daughter. “Indeed you did. It should be quite the reunion then. We have too little of those these days,” he ended with. 

Rex thanked him and exited into the bright halls of the Tantive III. Bail wasn’t wrong. It would undoubtedly be quite the reunion all this time later. There were too few of them… and not enough with the person he wished to share them with the most. 

In the two days leading up to his assignment, Rex continued about his duties. Now that Kix was free from cryo, he’d been teaching the former Captain his way around a medbay and how to properly tend to patients. It wasn’t the action he spent his life vying for, but it was action nonetheless when he wasn’t on the field. He actually enjoyed the work and had become an invaluable asset for when medical droids weren’t readily available — which was often. It was one of those things Rex never would’ve known had they won the war. 

Realizations such as those were always jarring.

Medic work was something to keep both his hands and mind occupied. Nothing felt right if he didn’t have something to worry over. In some way, it was soothing, allowing him to worry over what he could control versus what he couldn’t. 

Not hearing from Ahsoka, not being able to reach out, ate at him like a Gundark starved. Kix being unthawed had helped, but even his brother’s company didn’t lessen the tug as much as he wished it would. The only thing that had distracted him well enough was the strong scent of bacta. 

Rex kept at it until the very moment his pickup had docked to the Tantive, washing his hands up to the elbows and disposing of tools into the hazardous waste chute before climbing into the cockpit. Bonteri was piloting, appearing just as shocked as Rex knew himself to look upon seeing someone from the last war — upon seeing someone who’d changed so drastically since they were last face to face. 

Bonteri’s hair was longer, shaggier, looking the very definition of the rebel extremist Saw had made of him. He had a five o’clock shadow, had filled out more, the war turning a once lanky kid into a man Rex hardly recognized. It was a begrudging thing for him to admit, but perhaps after a shower or two, Bonteri could be considered to have grown into a conventionally handsome guy. 

Rex couldn’t pinpoint why Lux’s complicated past with Ahsoka still bothered him all these years later. This was clearly a different person entirely. They all were. 

Maybe that bothered him more.

Lux’s eyebrows were shot up. “You’re… younger?” he observed, voice deeper than anticipated, taking in a version of Rex without the characteristic lines in his face. “I’d heard rumors they’d found a cure, I just, well you don’t see many clones these days. Especially the ones fighting on our side.”

He didn’t know how he was meant to respond to that comment. Yes, in the three years since the Empire took control, his brothers have been rapidly replaced by conscripted soldiers. The ones that remained… many had chosen a life like the one Echo and the boys chose on Pabu. With time, Rex found it increasingly more difficult to convince clones to stay in the fight. Forced retirement prompted them to actually consider what else they wanted in life besides battle. And not all of them wanted the cure. Even the ones who did, half used it to catch up on lost time — men such as Cut included. They were simply tired of dying.

“And you got older,” Rex settled with, taking a seat and offering a weak smirk. 

Bonteri laughed, undocked the ship, and set out on what Rex expected to be a very quiet, very awkward mission. 

In and out. He’d be back at the Tantive’s doors just after dinner with any luck. But as luck would have it, Lux felt the need to fill the quiet air. For hours they did this back and forth game of catch up.

“How old are you now?”

“Sixteen if you count how long it’s been since the tube. Twenty-three in appearance.”

“Worked that well, huh? Been fighting since the Empire started?”

“Haven’t had a day off.”

“More people gone than recovered I assume.”

“That’s the way it is. The Senate?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

To the rest of the galaxy, Lux was for all intents and purposes, still Onderon’s acting representative in the Senate. He was the youngest rep at age twenty-one. He ran a hand through his hair, leagues less greasy than it had been in his younger years. “You know the Empire well enough by now. I just say what they tell me to, but I’m sure that comes as no surprise. They just need a pretty face to keep my people content with their permanent occupation on our planet,” he explained. “Just have to shave every few months when they need me and say a couple nice things for the Net. They’re none the wiser.”

“I figured as much. Senator Organa sees less and less colleagues all the time, just more Imperials taking their places he says,” Rex added. “That’s how you and Bail are involved, I take it?”

“Passed on Saw’s intel either this week after a new bill discussion,” the younger man confirmed. “Senator circles and what have you.” He laughed, shaking his head at how ridiculous it all sounded. He knew he was just another cog in a wickedly woven machine. 

War hardened everyone. It was strange to see the shape it had given Bonteri. Rex found himself searching for reasons to continue his dislike of this individual, but if anything, the years and the hardship had made him more bearable. The arrogance of his youth couldn’t be held against him, not when he was sticking his neck out like this. He was no different than Bail or Mon, or any one person involved in their fight. 

It was ultimately up to Ahsoka to forgive Lux, and perhaps she already had, but Rex recognized it was time to reconcile his issues with Bonteri. The kid was probably never aware of his disdain to begin with. 

After all, who was Rex to hold the sins of one’s youth against him?

Hosnian Prime illuminated the cockpit of Lux’s GX1 soon enough, finding Rex in significantly less pain than he had predicted himself to be in by now. Clouds boomed around them, dark and heavy, raining with a vengeance on the city planet below. They made their descent unceremoniously, landing a few klicks out from the provided coordinates in a residential sector.

Each man shrugged on a cloak that had seen better days. “Do you know anything about the defect?” Rex asked, donning his bucket and pulling down the rangefinder. 

“All I know is that we’re looking for a woman,” Lux provided, powering down the ship and grabbing a banged up stormtrooper helmet. “You ready?”

“Waiting on you,” Rex nodded, lifting his hood and leading the way out into the downpour.

Bonteri was resourceful. Rex could give him that. Perhaps he was paying attention during the Onderon mission afterall. He chuckled to himself, thinking that the kid probably wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for that first course from the boys of the 501st. He bit into his cheek, the term ���kid” no longer feeling natural. Their difference in age wasn’t as stark anymore. 

They walked through sheets of rain in a back alley, parallel to an overhead hovertrain system. Distant shop signage cast them in colorful glows with each block covered, the rain only stopping when a train zipped by. They’d approach the city within the hour. 

His companion jogged up beside him, holding his modified blaster rifle close to the chest and spoke over comms, “Say, you haven’t heard from Ahsoka Tano lately, have you?”

The first thing Rex noticed after he swallowed the dreaded question was that both Bonteri’s voice and posture had shifted. Waters were being tested. He couldn’t help but think how Ahsoka would have some remark to say about banthas in the room and finally addressing them. What he could reveal was limited. She was supposed to be dead. They both were. Rex shrugged off his initial reaction and corrected his body language.

When no response came, the young Senator continued, “Imperial records have you both listed as killed in action, aboard the same downed vessel and, well, here you are.”

It wasn’t rare to see the dead, but it was rare to see a ghost. Today, that ghost was Rex. Not only was he younger, but he was alive, and Lux was bargaining on more ghosts yet. 

Wiser men have died chasing them. 

Thankful for the helmets, Rex attempted to lie — something he’d gotten much practice in being Captain of the 501st. “I haven’t seen her since the crash,” he said coolly, keeping it short. Too short. 

The younger man pushed against Rex’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t bullshit me, Rex,” Lux pressed, sounding once again like himself. 

Maybe Rex shouldn’t have answered truthfully, but he decided to. He considered himself a decent judge of character and this wasn’t a version of Lux Bonteri that acted in his own self interest, not when something as sinister as the Empire weighed heavily on the galaxy. At this point in his life, he’d seen enough regret in a man’s eyes to recognize it upon first appearance. He sighed, “She’s around less and less each time. I don’t know where she gets sent. My clearance doesn’t extend that high anymore. She’s alive… but it’s been months.”

The stormtrooper helmet bobbed, indicating that Lux understood, accepting the truth was less than he’d wanted. “Thank you. It’s good to hear, you know, that she’s alive. I know you played a role in her survival of whatever it was the two of you went through, so thank you.” He was quiet again for a long while. “I see the cure didn’t absolve you of that loyalty curse you clones are all known so well for,” he continued. “I’m sorry.”

The genuine apology sat with Rex in a way he hadn’t expected it to. Maybe because he didn’t expect the words in the first place. Maybe because it was painfully clear that he’d die Ahsoka’s loyal Captain, taking her secrets with him to the grave. But whatever the root cause, Rex knew it was ultimately because his companion was wrong. He was assuming that as a clone, Rex was bound to her beyond his will. 

“No, the cure didn’t solve it. Removing my chip did. Those are real too, in case you’d not heard it from a reliable source. My loyalty to Ahsoka is my choice.”

Nothing was said for several minutes more as each man chewed on the interaction. Rex marveled at how much power a woman like her could have on two hopeless men. She was worlds away and leaving them both at a loss for words. 

“Security detail ahead,” Rex informed, tipping down his rangefinder and leading them to the alley edges. “I’ve got four on my scanners. See anything in that ridiculous helmet of yours?”

“Not shit,” Lux joked, confirming what Rex had heard regarding the poor design. “Scratch that. Counting three more to our left.” 

Each rebel’s grip tightened on his weapon, readying to shoot their way through an increasingly sticky scenario. The mission coordinates were a few blocks north and the area was already dense with stormtroopers. Bonteri beckoned his head to the right and they dipped further out of view, navigating the city grid more stealthily.

“I thought Hosnian Prime was one of the core worlds giving the Empire a run for their credits,” Rex thought aloud, dismayed.

His companion laughed dryly, “Why do you think there’s so much security, Captain?” The younger man pointed above them. A squad of troopers was boarding the hovertrain on a nearby station. 

“You weren’t informed enough to know how much of an Imperial presence would be here?” Rex asked, doing little to disguise his annoyance. The mission brief was infuriatingly short. What was more, was that Hosnian Prime was this mental image of resistance. Seeing that even they couldn’t escape Imperial occupation made his chest ache in a way that had become too frequent. 

Lux shrugged under his drenched coat. “Gerrera wrote up the brief. He can be…”

“Oh I know.” Rex grumbled.

Bonteri was mid laugh when they turned the corner, a lively tavern of sorts bustling with crowds of customers and stormtroopers alike. It was protected from the rain, housing all kinds of individuals seeking a good time despite the dreary weather. “Shit,” the young Senator muttered, he and Rex tugging their hoods further and keeping heads down. “Shit. Shit.”

“Six at the bar,” Rex stated, weaving them calmly through the crowds. “Don’t look to your right. There’s a group at the high top that might see you.” Lux obeyed, falling in Rex’s expert footsteps. A male Gotal passed between them, separating them but only by a step, then a few steps.

Grunting in frustration, Lux attempted to jog up to the heels of the Captain. “Rex—” he started, leaving his thought unfinished as he kicked into the ankle of none other than a unit leader.

The orange pauldron pivoted, bringing the two men helmet to helmet. Lux’s was an older model, dated out by a year or so now. Moreover, he had no other armor on his person. 

“What do we have here?” the unit leader drawled. It was not a question Lux was meant to answer. Six, seven, eight, nine of the same blank buckets turned their attention towards him. The tavern quieted just enough, bystanders getting out of the way but most still determined to enjoy their evenings. What a show this was indeed. 

The blaster of the one behind him was halfway raised when his arm snapped. The impact was so forceful that Bonteri would’ve guessed it was a crack of lightning before he turned. Rex was quicker with the cure coursing through his veins, much more than he had been on Onderon. His elbow met the center of the trooper’s chest plate before his pistol even cleared the holster. Lux couldn’t help but notice Rex was down to one weapon despite his normal two, looking on in awe before remembering himself.

Chaos erupted throughout the tavern. Gone was the festive evening as screams rang out and drinks were spilled. The music came scratching to a sharp halt as Lux kicked the legs out from under the unit leader, sending him falling backwards into a table and leaving glasses shattering to the floor. He ducked as blaster fire screeched over his head, looking up to watch as Rex dropped another one with a devastating kick behind the knee. 

“Move!” he barked, firing twice more as another squad of the damning troops filed into the area. The exit point was a clear shot ahead. 

“What? Don’t want to stop for a drink?” Lux jested, firing his modded rifle and smirking as the fire ricocheted between the buckets of two more soldiers. 

“You and I aren’t quite there yet,” Rex grunted, turning on his heel. 

Blaster fire followed them into the alleys, drowned out by the torrential downpour that had started. The duracrete was slick with rain. A stray bolt screamed through the air, hitting the wall beside Lux’s shoulder and eliciting something of a yelp from the Senator. He stumbled, cursing and spraying fire behind him. 

One trooper went down. Then two. But not by his hand. Another shot found its way into the alley and this one hit. 

Rex watched as Bonteri nearly fumbled his rifle. A line of red scored across his palm, smoke rising from the burning flesh and the fabric of his glove. “You hit?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Lux responded through gritted teeth, firing his weapon through the sting of an open wound.

“Good. Walk it off,” Rex instructed. “How many behind us?”

“Three last I saw,” he grunted. They ducked into a side street. 

The Captain loosened a bit, checking his datapad. “There’s a service access north past the next block. We’ll lose them there in the industrial district.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll win a short war.”

Cheating death — even when it became routine — had a way of forcing reflection. It just so happened that narrowly escaping said demise had both men thinking of the most electric, unparalleled woman that had ever graced their existence. This woman, coincidentally, was the same woman for each of them.

Again, and unsurprisingly, Lux brought her up in conversation.

“You know, I was half expecting, or half hoping rather, that Bail would assign this mission to Ahsoka,” he revealed, catching his breath as they hunkered down in the service entrance. He clutched his wrist, causing his affected hand to lose its color. Rex fished for a stimpack in the pouch on his belt.

Dots began to connect. So that’s why Bonteri was on a mission such as this one — seizing the rare opportunity to work with Bail’s team in hopes of a reunion. Perhaps it wasn’t the full reason, but he didn’t have to say so outright. Earlier when he questioned Rex’s loyalty, he’d already had suspicions that Ahsoka was alive and working for Bail.

“Disappointed?” Rex asked. 

“Delighted,” Lux corrected, sucking air past his teeth as the liquid made contact with the raw gash across his palm. “It means she’s off taking care of the bigger fish. She’ll do great things in the name of the Rebellion, just as she did during the last war.”

The Captain nodded, still not used to the lack of a dull ache in his knees. “She already has.” he revealed. “She never says much about what it is she’s doing, but I don’t ask.”

“Because she’d tell you if it were for your ears to hear?”

“Exactly.”

Lux faced him, helmet discarded on the ground. “I’m not sure if you picked up on it before, or if she’s said anything to you in passing, but… there was a moment where we had something, Ahsoka and I. For a brief point time I thought maybe it could have turned into… more.”

The Captain said nothing, digesting the younger man’s confiding words. It’s not that he didn’t know about it — Ahsoka had spoken about her grievances and confusion over him a few times. He’d known for a while how she’d felt about Lux during the last war, how it was unrequited at different times, how she harbored her guilt with it. It’s hearing the words from Lux himself that made it real in a way he wasn’t prepared for. 

“I knew,” he revealed, wrapping Lux’s palm with a gauzy bandage.

“You ever think she regrets not leaving the war behind when she had the chance?” Lux asked, forcing a laugh to make it sound as if it were a thought he’d only just had for the first time.

After a beat, Rex finally answered him. “She doesn’t regret the things that matter.”

“Am I interrupting something here? Why are you out of regulation?” a female voice sliced sternly through the air. 

Lux was the only one in view, helmet halfway back on. “Just bandaging my hand, Lieutenant,” he improvised.

“I’m going to need your operating number, trooper. This is highly irregular.”

The young Senator was quick to regain control of the situation, removing his tattered excuse for a helmet and shaking the stray strands of long hair from his face. The lieutenant’s attitude shift was instant. She was more inclined to listen to a handsome man’s excuse rather than an anonymous one. Bonteri had evidently used this method before and knew it to be effective. 

He gave a hand signal behind his back for Rex’s eyes only — a signal he’d taught that first group of rebels on Onderon.

Signal seventeen.

He sat straight against the wall and fished the binders from his belt. The Senator secured them to Rex’s wrists and hauled him up off the ground and thrust him into view.

Rex ground his teeth and snapped his shoulders, playing the part of captive convincingly and allowing Lux to sell the ruse. His pretend captor flashed the woman his white teeth, using a mix of suave and charm Rex had used before himself.

“I’ve been hired as a bounty hunter, ma’am. Been chasing this particular clone for weeks now. His capture will undoubtedly ensure Hosnian Prime’s submission to the Empire,” Lux improvised, dialing in on the cockiness. “An older one by the looks of him. Their so-called cure must do a number on their already stunted brains.” Rex grunted and twisted in Lux’s hold, only halfway acting.

This qualified as humor for the woman. She giggled, impressed, hopelessly fooled into Lux’s lie by way of his good looks. “I’m certain the Commander will be most pleased,” she said, a twinkle in her eye and a flirt in her now relaxed stance. A phantom lock of her slicked back hair was pushed behind her ear. “Very well, proceed to detention block C. Put him with the others. If you’re in need of an assignment afterwards, you can find me on level three.”

“Promise?” Bonteri asked, tongue slipping past his lips just so as he held eye contact with her.

The only response she offered in return was the maintained lock of eyes before she nodded curtly and continued on. 

Rex gagged when she was out of earshot.

His captor released him and shot him a defeated, albeit dirty, look, “Believe me, that was more uncomfortable for me than it was for you.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Well, not everything has to be solved with a blaster,” Lux added.

“Unfortunately. Let’s grab the target and get out.”

“Seconded.”

He hated to admit it, but it was that very interaction between his counterpart and the Imperial that Rex’s mind began to taunt him. It started with the sensation of pin pricks beneath the skin, a tightness in his jaw, then evolving into hypotheticals. He was often skilled at blocking those out, but the way Lux flirted with the woman was so… effortless. She was of no real romantic interest, if his facial expression afterward was any indication, yet his charm had her expecting a rendezvous. What could Bonteri achieve with someone he did have an interest in? Rex swallowed. Ahsoka did fall for the man once, long ago when he was more arrogant and less handsome. 

For only one year had the cure been embedded in his cells and Rex was once again facing insecurities he thought he’d conquered. The only reason he swallowed the vial was to continue the fight, to give the growing Rebellion a standing chance. His resume, his strategy, his experience were all vital assets to the cause. Taking it was an unselfish act, so he told himself. 

Sure, he also regained that rugged Fett physique the Kaminoans had shown such favor towards. He was not disinclined to once again have that allure the clones were so reputable for. 

She’d only been around him twice since the cure had been administered and not once had she treated him any differently — didn’t care that it had taken nine years off his physical age. 

They made it to the detention block without a hitch, taking out the few troopers stationed there. Only one name in the short catalog of prisoners belonged to a woman. Rex’s mouth grew dry. It was so much more than just a name. He knew the target personally.

Emerie Karr.

“About time you showed up,” the female clone said once the ray shield fizzled. 

“I’d tell you to give Echo my apologies, but I’m more curious as to how you ended up here,” Rex wondered aloud, handing her the blaster off an unconscious trooper. “And why our intel has you listed as an Imperial defect.”

She frowned, following the two men back out the way they came. “The less known the better. Rex, this goes deeper than we could’ve ever imagined. I’ve been in the sector undercover for the last few weeks and, well, I supposed I assumed Tantiss was the only place the Empire had been experimenting on children…”

Lux’s brows were knit, looking between the pair of clones and drawing his own conclusions. This ran as deep as it did dark. 

“Of course we were wrong,” she finished softly. 

“Emerie, why are you here?” Rex probed. 

She swallowed, fearful, unlike how he knew her usual demeanor to be. “They’re experimenting on Force sensitive children. I was able to shuttle many of them off-world, got them here first and then sent each to a safe location with a trusted ally, but the Imperial presence on Hosnian Prime has only doubled since I was here last. The smallest child in particular, he—”

The emergency alarm began to wail. The cold light was replaced with that of a red hue, signaling that it was time to go. Stepping over the limp bodies of stormtroopers, the three made their way through the building. 

Blast doors were closing on all sides of them, the rhythmic sound reaching them before they could see it. 

“Going back the way we came isn’t an option anymore,” Lux warned, tightening his injured hand into a fist. 

“Where did your girlfriend ask you to meet her?” Rex asked, no hint of a joke on his face. 

“Level three,” Bonteri sighed.

Emerie pointed to their left. “This way. Follow me.”

They kept tight on the female clone’s heels, turning sharp corners and hiding out of breath from nearby squads. Their footsteps charged Rex’s heart, once again throwing him into the kind of battle he was born and bred for — the kind that gave him a purpose that medic work couldn’t replicate. Snatching a datapad from the wall, Emerie opened a door that had closed on them, opening the way once more. It was in those short periods of waiting that Rex’s mind pieced the rest of the picture together.

She was working with Saw. 

Echo was working with Saw.

There was no time to digest such revelations. Emerie input the security code for the sealed room and the blast doors parted. Inside, the lieutenant Lux had promised to rendezvous with earlier had two hands on a blaster, trained on them.

“I should have suspected,” the Imperial woman spat.

“Sorry lady, you’re just not really my type,” Lux retorted, gesturing to the control panel behind her. “Now, you’re going to drop the blaster and unlock the bay for the transports.”

Her eyes hardened and her finger trembled ever closer to the trigger. 

Bonteri laughed dryly. “When’s the last time the Empire did anything for you, huh? Gave you anything of real value besides a disappointing promotion? Look at you. Blindly, fearfully loyal. Even in its own system, the Empire rules by fear. The more responsibilities, the more titles, the more pins on your uniform — the more they govern you with terror. You’re not that high ranking which is one of the many reasons you’re trembling,” he observed. “You spend your life at this post serving them and what do they do to serve you? They don’t care that you’re under the gun. They don’t care whether you live or you die.”

“You’re rebels!”

“Your occupation on Hosnian Prime won’t last,” Rex added, the curve of a smile etched into the corner of his lips. “The Rebellion only gets stronger everyday. You know this planet. You know its people. You can drop your weapon now and be promised safety amongst our ranks, or you can wait it out, dropping it once the people of this planet overrun this place. You will fail. And you know how the Empire will feel about it.”

Perhaps she might’ve done it. She might have taken the words as they intended and trusted what was said. Rex swore he saw that telling glint in her eye, the one that screams “I want to, help me save myself from this” but they’d never know. An explosion went off down the street, visible through the large window behind her. She turned to analyze the situation, and as fast as her eyes were taken off her enemies, Emerie had knocked her out with the datapad.

The light for the transport bay turned from red to green. “If you two are quite finished, we have a mission to complete,” Emerie said.

The rain felt like needles on the exposed back of a speeder bike. Rex cursed the damn lieutenant for the loss of their gear. He’d been losing pieces of his armor for years, starting with his pauldron, but knowing he left his helmet behind felt like leaving behind a part of himself. Even the tattered cloak he’d miss, especially now as they peeled away and towards Lux’s ship.

He patted his belt and holsters, finding everything else was still intact. He’d been down to one blaster for a while now, but he knew the other one was being kept safe.

Their ragtag group made it to their coordinates without fanfare. The explosion caused by the planet’s inhabitants had drawn the occupation’s attention and no one would suspect for a while that any outside agitators had been present. The larger Rebellion had once again succeeded in winning small wars, as Ahsoka liked to call them.

Lux signalled ahead, catching sight of the wing of his GX1 and leading them down the alley.

As soon as they stepped off, an overhead ship switched on its lights, ripping them forcibly out of the darkness and spotlighting Lux’s ship. Their damp clothes billowed, disrupted by the incoming landing. They each looked up, shielding their eyes from the intense brightness but unable to discern their above enemy. 

The lack of fire raining down on them did not equate to safety. 

Bonteri’s ship ramp wasn’t even all the way down before he was on it, ushering Emerie and Rex inside. He had one foot lifted, watching the new ship make ripples in the puddles below. 

The spotlight flickered off and the Captain’s eyes readjusted to the night sky. A rickety x-wing had joined them and, like clockwork, just as he was every few months, Rex once again found himself at a loss for words. 

“You,” he exhaled, standing in the light of the ship as a pair of familiar boots hit the ground. His body was weightless, mission nearly forgotten as he remembered the use of his feet. They carried him towards her in a motion that felt like floating.

“Me,” came the response.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he heard himself say.

Ahsoka crossed her arms, eyes rolling playfully and meeting him in the rain. “You always say that.” His skin soaked in the water falling from the sky, but his eyes soaked her in, searching for new scars, dipping briefly to her lips before meeting her warm gaze. A gentle hand slid across his face and hooked behind his ear, thumb running over his jaw. “Your helmet and cloak are in the storage compartment,” she continued. “Try not to leave them behind next time.”

He fought the urge to lean into her touch. “No promises,” he murmured, knowing he’d do it again.

“Lux,” Ahsoka stated, pulling Rex out of the moment. She glanced between the two men, amused, and playfully elbowed her Captain. “Didn’t peg you for a politician’s right hand.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Rex laughed, walking them out of the weather and clapping a hand on Bonteri’s shoulder. 

She folded her arms and cocked a brow marking. “I imagine it was… enlightening.”

Rex smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “Only on how to get your hand seared open by enemy fire.”

Lux rolled his eyes and laughed at the jest of his new friend. “Yeah, yeah. It’s healing just fine,” he corrected, waving his bandaged palm. “I’m ready for that drink now by the way. You and I there yet?”

Ahsoka looked at Rex expectantly, “Kix’s training came in handy I take it. Thank you for taking my advice.” 

Across from them, Lux pretended to laugh at her emphasis on the word “handy”.

She bit her bottom lip and wiped a stray rain droplet from his chin, looking from his eyes to his lips and back again before adjusting his collar. 

“Yeah, I reckon’ we’re there. First round’s on me,” Rex replied, not breaking his gaze once from Ahsoka’s.

“Done,” Lux laughed. “We’ll follow you.” The young Senator disappeared into his ship with Emerie in tow, the ramp raising.

Karr’s discoveries could be dissected in the morning of the following rotation. There was nothing big or small with enough urgency to take precedence over this moment — for however long he and Ahsoka had each other. Rain dripped over his eyelids, prompting an orange thumb to swipe widely over his brow bone. 

“I don’t remember where we left off,” he spoke over the downpour.

“No?” she asked. “Because I recall you had something to tell me.” The twitch in her mouth was telling. He’d been made. His tongue darted out to wet his lips in a nervous tick and her starlit eyes lingered intently on the action.

Ahsoka leaned closer and peered up at him through wet lashes. “Do you want to say it or do you want me to show you how I feel about it?”

Before either could react to the words spoken, her fingers hooked into the loops on his belt and she pulled him into her, softening his stumble by catching his lips with her own.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Enshittification isn’t caused by venture capital

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

Many of us have left the big social media platforms; far more of us wish we could leave them; and even those of us who've escaped from Facebook/Insta and Twitter still spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get the people we care about off of them, too.

It's lazy and easy to think that our friends who are stuck on legacy platforms run by Zuckerberg and Musk lack the self-discipline to wean themselves off of these services, or lack the perspective to understand why it's so urgent to get away from them, or that their "hacked dopamine loops" have addicted them to the zuckermusk algorithms. But if you actually listen to the people who've stayed behind, you'll learn that the main reason our friends stay on legacy platforms is that they care about the other people there more than they hate Zuck or Musk.

They rely on them because they're in a rare-disease support group; or they all coordinate their kids' little league carpools there; or that's where they stay in touch with family and friends they left behind when they emigrated; or they're customers or the audience for creative labor.

All those people might want to leave, too, but it's really hard to agree on where to go, when to go, and how to re-establish your groups when you get somewhere else. Economists call this the "collective action problem." This problem creates "switching costs" – a lot of stuff you'll have to live without if you switch from legacy platforms to new ones. The collective action problem is hard to solve and the switching costs are very high:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/29/how-to-leave-dying-social-media-platforms/

That's why people stay behind – not because they lack perspective, or self-discipline, or because their dopamine loops have been hacked by evil techbro sorcerers who used Big Data to fashion history's first functional mind-control ray. They are locked in by real, material things.

Big Tech critics who attribute users' moral failings or platforms' technical prowess to the legacy platforms' "stickiness" are their own worst enemies. These critics have correctly identified that legacy platforms are a serious problem, but have totally failed to understand the nature of that problem or how to fix it. Thankfully, more and more critics are coming to understand that lock-in is the root of the problem, and that anti-lock-in measures like interoperability can address it.

But there's another major gap in the mainstream critique of social media. Critics of zuckermuskian media claim those services are so terrible because they're for-profit entities, capitalist enterprises hitched to the logic of extraction and profit above all else. The problem with this claim is that it doesn't explain the changes to these services. After all, the reason so many of us got on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram is because they used to be a lot of fun. They were useful. They were even great at times.

When tech critics fail to ask why good services turn bad, that failure is just as severe as the failure to ask why people stay when the services rot.

Now, the guy who ran Facebook when it was a great way to form communities and make friends and find old friends is the same guy who who has turned Facebook into a hellscape. There's very good reason to believe that Mark Zuckerberg was always a creep, and he took investment capital very early on, long before he started fucking up the service. So what gives? Did Zuck get a brain parasite that turned him evil? Did his investors get more demanding in their clamor for dividends?

If that's what you think, you need to show your working. Again, by all accounts, Zuck was a monster from day one. Zuck's investors – both the VCs who backed him early and the gigantic institutional funds whose portfolios are stuffed with Meta stock today – are not patient sorts with a reputation for going easy on entrepreneurs who leave money on the table. They've demanded every nickel since the start.

What changed? What caused Zuck to enshittify his service? And, even more importantly for those of us who care about the people locked into Facebook's walled gardens: what stopped him from enshittifying his services in the "good old days?"

At its root, enshittification is a theory about constraints. Companies pursue profit at all costs, but while you may be tempted to focus on the "at all costs" part of that formulation, you musn't neglect the "profits" part. Companies don't pursue unprofitable actions at all costs – they only pursue the plans that they judge are likely to yield profits.

When companies face real competitors, then some enshittificatory gambits are unprofitable, because they'll drive your users to competing platforms. That's why Zuckerberg bought Instagram: he had been turning the screws on Facebook users, and when Instagram came along, millions of those users decided that they hated Zuck more than they loved their friends and so they swallowed the switching costs and defected to Instagram. In an ill-advised middle-of-the-night memo to his CFO, Zuck defended spending $1b on Instagram on the grounds that it would recapture those Facebook escapees:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/7/29/21345723/facebook-instagram-documents-emails-mark-zuckerberg-kevin-systrom-hearing

A company that neutralizes, buys or destroys its competitors can treat its users far worse – invade their privacy, cheap out on moderation and anti-spam, etc – without losing their business. That's why Zuck's motto is "it is better to buy than to compete":

https://www.trtworld.com/magazine/zuckerberg-its-better-to-buy-than-compete-is-facebook-a-monopoly-42243

Of course, as a leftist, I know better than to count on markets as a reliable source of corporate discipline. Even more important than market discipline is government discipline, in the form of regulation. If Zuckerberg feared fines for privacy violations, or moderation failures, or illegal anticompetitive mergers, or fraudulent advertising systems that rip off publishers and advertisers, or other forms of fraud (like the "pivot to video"), he would treat his users better. But Facebook's rise to power took place during the second half of the neoliberal era, when the last shreds of regulatory muscle that survived the Reagan revolution were being devoured by GW Bush and Obama (and then Trump).

As cartels and monopolies took over our economy, most government regulators were neutered and captured. Public agencies were stripped of their powers or put in harness to attack small companies, customers, and suppliers who got in the way of monopolists' rent-extraction. That meant that as Facebook grew, Zuckerberg had less and less to fear from government enforcers who might punish him for enshittification where the markets failed to do so.

But it's worse than that, because Zuckerberg and other tech monopolists figured out how to harness "IP" law to get the government to shut down third-party technology that might help users resist enshittification. IP law is why you can't make a privacy-protecting ad-blocker for an app (and why companies are so desperate to get you to use their apps rather than the open web, and why apps are so dismally enshittified). IP law is why you can't make an alternative client that blocks algorithmic recommendations. IP law is why you can't leave Facebook for a new service and run a scraper that imports your waiting Facebook messages into a different inbox. IP law is why you can't scrape Facebook to catalog the paid political disinformation the company allows on the platform:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

IP law's growth has coincided with Facebook's ascendancy – the bigger Facebook got, the more tempting it was to interoperators who might want to plug new code into it to protect Facebook users, and the more powers Facebook had to block even the most modest improvements to its service. That meant that Facebook could enshittify even more, without worrying that it would drive users to take unilateral, permanent action that would deprive it of revenue, like blocking ads. Once ad-blocking is illegal (as it is on apps), there's no reason not to make ads as obnoxious as you want.

Of course, many Facebook employees cared about their users, and for most of the 21st century, those workers were a key asset for Facebook. Tech workers were in short supply until just a couple years ago, when the platforms started round after round of brutal layoffs – 260,000 in 2023, another 150,000+ in 2024. Facebook workers may be furious about Zuckerberg killing content moderation, but he's not worried about them quitting – not with a half-million skilled tech workers out there, hunting for jobs. Fuck 'em. Let 'em quit:

https://www.404media.co/its-total-chaos-internally-at-meta-right-now-employees-protest-zuckerbergs-anti-lgbtq-changes/

This is what changed: the collapse of market, government, and labor constraints, and IP law's criminalization of disenshittifying, interoperable add-ons. This is why Zuck, an eternal creep, is now letting his creep flag fly so proudly today. Not because he's a worse person, but because he understands that he can hurt his users and workers to benefit his shareholders without facing any consequences. Zuckerberg 2025 isn't the most evil Zuck, he's the most unconstrained Zuck.

Same goes for Twitter. I mean, obviously, there's been a change in management at Twitter – the guy who's enshittifying it today isn't the guy who enshittified it prior to last year. Musk is speedrunning the enshittification curve, and yet Twitter isn't collapsing. Why not? Because Musk is insulated from consequences for fucking up – he's got a huge cushion of wealth, he's got advertisers who are desperate to reach his users, he's got users who can't afford to leave the service, he's got IP law that he can use to block interoperators who might make it easier to migrate to a better service. He was always a greedy, sadistic asshole. Now he's an unconstrained greedy, sadistic asshole. Musk 2025 isn't a worse person than Musk 2020. He's just more free to act on his evil impulses than he was in years gone by.

These are the two factors that make services terrible: captive users, and no constraints. If your users can't leave, and if you face no consequences for making them miserable (not solely their departure to a competitor, but also fines, criminal charges, worker revolts, and guerrilla warfare with interoperators), then you have the means, motive and opportunity to turn your service into a giant pile of shit.

That's why we got Jack Welch and his acolytes when we did. There were always evil fuckers just like them hanging around, but they didn't get to run GM until Ronald Reagan took away the constraints that would have punished them for turning GE into a giant pile of shit. Every economy is forever a-crawl with parasites and monsters like these, but they don't get to burrow into the system and colonize it until policymakers create rips they can pass through.

In other words, the profit motive itself is not sufficient to cause enshittification – not even when a for-profit firm has to answer to VCs who would shut down the company or fire its leadership in the face of unsatisfactory returns. For-profit companies chase profit. The enshittifying changes to Facebook and Twitter are cruel, but the cruelty isn't the point: the point is profits. If the fines – or criminal charges – Facebook faced for invading our privacy exceeded the ad-targeting revenue it makes by doing so, it would stop spying on us. Facebook wouldn't like it. Zuck would hate it. But he'd do it, because he spies on us to make money, not because he's a voyeur.

To stop enshittification, it is not necessary to eliminate the profit motive – it is only necessary to make enshittification unprofitable.

This is not to defend capitalism. I'm not saying there's a "real capitalism" that's good, and a "crony capitalism" or "monopoly capitalism" that's bad. All flavors of capitalism harm working people and seek to shift wealth and power from the public and democratic institutions to private interests. But that doesn't change the fact that there are, indeed, different flavors of capitalism, and they have different winners and losers. Capitalists who want to sell apps on the App Store or reach customers through Facebook are technofeudalism's losers, while Apple, Facebook, Google, and other Big Tech companies are technofeudalism's great winners.

Smart leftism pays attention to these differences, because they represent the potential fault lines in capitalism's coalition. These people all call themselves capitalists, they all give money and support to political movements that seek to crush worker power and human rights – but when the platforms win, the platforms' business customers lose. They are irreconcilably on different sides of a capitalism-v-capitalism fight that is every bit as important to them as the capitalism-v-socialism fight.

I'm saying that it's good praxis to understand these divisions in capitalism, because then we can exploit those differences to make real, material gains for human thriving and worker rights. Lumping all for-profit businesses together as identical and irredeemable is bad tactics.

Legacy social media is at a turning point. Two new systems built on open standards have emerged as a credible threat to the zuckermuskian model: Mastodon (built on Activitypub) and Bluesky (built on Atproto). The former is far more mature, with a huge network of federated servers run by all different kinds of institutions, from hobbyists to corporations, and it's overseen by a nonprofit. The latter has far more users, and is a VC-backed corporate entity, and while it is hypothetically federatable, there are no Bluesky services apart from the main one that you can leave for if Bluesky starts to enshittify.

That means that Bluesky has a ton of captive users, and has the lack of constraint that characterizes the enshittified legacy platforms it has tempted tens of millions of users away from. This is not a good place to be in, because it means that if the current management choose to enshittify Bluesky, they can, and it will be profitable. It also means that the company's VCs understand that they could replace the current management and replace them with willing enshittifiers and make more money.

This is why Bluesky is in a dangerous place: not because it is backed by VCs, not because it is a for-profit entity, but because it has captive users and no constraints. It's a great party in a sealed building with no fire exits:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/14/fire-exits/#graceful-failure-modes

Last week, I endorsed a project called Free Our Feeds, whose goals include hacking some fire exits into Bluesky by force majeure – that is, independently standing up an alternative Bluesky server that people can retreat to if Bluesky management changes, or has a change of heart:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/14/contesting-popularity/#everybody-samba

For some Mastodon users, Free Our Feeds is dead on arrival – why bother trying to make a for-profit project safer for its users when Mastodon is a perfectly good nonprofit alternative? Why waste millions developing a standalone Bluesky server rather than spending that money improving things in the Fediverse.

I believe strongly in improving the Fediverse, and I believe in adding the long-overdue federation to Bluesky. That's because my goal isn't the success of the Fediverse – it's the defeat of enshtitification. My answer to "why spend money fixing Bluesky?" is "why leave 20 million people at risk of enshittification when we could not only make them safe, but also create the toolchain to allow many, many organizations to operate a whole federation of Bluesky servers?" If you care about a better internet – and not just the Fediverse – then you should share this goal, too.

Many of the Fediverse's servers are operated by for-profit entities, after all. One of the Fediverse's largest servers (Threads) is owned by Meta. Threads users who feel the bite of Zuckerberg's decision to encourage homophobic, xenophobic and transphobic hate speech will find it easy to escape from Threads: they can set up on any Fediverse server that is federated with Threads and they'll be able to maintain their connections with everyone who stays behind.

The existence of for-profit servers in the Fediverse does not ruin the Fediverse (though I wouldn't personally use one of them). The fact that multiple neo-Nazi groups run their own Mastodon servers does not ruin the Fediverse (though I certainly won't use their servers). Not even the fact that Donald Trump's Truth Social is a Mastodon server does anything to ruin the Fediverse (not using that one, either).

This is the strength of federated, federatable social media – it disciplines enshittifiers by lowering switching costs, and if enshittifiers persist, it makes it easy for users to escape unshitted, because they don't have to solve the collective action problem. Any user can go to any server at any time and stay in touch with everyone else.

Mastodon was born free: free code, with free federation as a priority. Bluesky was not: it was born within a for-profit public benefit corporation whose charter offers some defenses against enshittification, but lacks the most decisive one: the federation that would let users escape should escape become necessary.

The fact that Mastodon was born free is quite unusual in the annals of the fight for a free internet. Most of the internet was born proprietary and had freedom foisted upon it. Unix was born within Bell Labs, property of the convicted monopolist AT&T. The GNU/Linux project set it free.

SMB was born proprietary within corporate walls of Microsoft, another corporate monopolist. SAMBA set it free.

The Office file formats were also born proprietary within Microsoft's walled garden: they were set free by hacker-activists who fought through a thick bureaucratic morass and Microsoft fuckery (including literally refusing to allow chairs to be set for advocates for Open Document Format) to give us formats that underlie everything from LibreOffice to Google Docs, Office365 to your web browser.

There is nothing unusual, in other words, about hacking freedom into something that is proprietary or just insufficiently free. That's totally normal. It's how we got almost everything great about computers.

Mastodon's progenitors should be praised for ensuring their creation was born free – but the fact that Bluesky isn't free enough is no reason to turn our back on it. Our response to anything that locks in the people we care about must be to shatter those locks, not abandon the people bound by the locks because they didn't heed to our warnings.

Audre Lorde is far smarter than me, but when she wrote that "the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house," she was wrong. There is no toolset better suited to conduct an orderly dismantling of a structure than the tools that built it. You can be sure it'll have all the right screwdriver bits, wrenches, hexkeys and sockets.

Bluesky is fine. It has features I significantly prefer to Mastodon's equivalent. Composable moderation is amazing, both a technical triumph and a triumph of human-centered design:

https://bsky.social/about/blog/4-13-2023-moderation

I hope Mastodon adopts those features. If someone starts a project to copy all of Bluesky's best features over to Mastodon, I'll put my name to the crowdfunding campaign in a second.

But Mastodon has one feature that Bluesky sorely lacks – the federation that imposes antienshittificatory discipline on companies and offers an enshittification fire-exit for users if the discipline fails. It's long past time that someone copied that feature over to Bluesky.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/20/capitalist-unrealism/#praxis

[knuckleslove]

Fuck… Fellow writers, do ever just write a line and immediately—

-50 Psychic Damage

-50 Piercing Damage

-50 Bludgeoning Damage

DEAD.

[fic-pickyourpoison]

Shower thoughts.

I don't know what fever dream came over me this morning, but I woke up, deleted my draft, and restarted the next chapter for PYP in an absolute frenzy. Now I only have one or two more scenes left to go before I post—short chapter be damned! I just want to get back into the habit of posting for this story again. I reread the last couple of chapters recently and I've been missing this feral bastard.

In the meantime, feel free to submit any drabble or art requests. I'd appreciate the inspo fuel ^^

[remi-harbinger]

Mbj that has family lines etched into his skin that look like a network of veins and stand up when hes feeling strong emotions. Theyre a shade darker than his skin and some looks like winged eyeliner bc airplane did not spare any expense on his ideal man. Lbh that has blood red family lines on his brow that looks like a circlet fit for a king, yet also jagged lines circling his neck, a reminder of the divine punishment his ancestors faced. Lines run down from the inner corner of his eyes like a cheetah so he seems like he's crying tears of blood when hes angry. Because LBH can control blood parasites he can make the lines seem to swirl and undulate which intimidates.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

see you might think he would be very guarded especially with Love but i Kind Of disagree . i think geto in particular knows the importance of letting your feelings free and being sincere with the people you love . something something before my goodwill crumbles away i should have told you everything. he has plenty of Tact but he does Want you. he wants you to be his and he wants to be yours gojo sort of comes to the conclusion that he must be getting negligent with himself and distances himself from every feeling he has towards you just to calm the part of him that wants to serve you tea in bed .