#i need them to say things about other politicians that could put them under federal investigation

[potato-jem]

matthew, just one scene where alex and henry talk shit PLEASE

[thebookreader12345]

Difference of Opinion - Chapter Four

Synopsis: The Intelligence Unit just wanted a nice vacation. What they didn’t expect was to be pulled into an active investigation by Agent L/N, who works at the BAU

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Five

I thought that talking about things with the Intelligence Unit would help solve our problem. But boy was I wrong. Because all that did was start up an argument that didn't look like it would end well.

"Are you kidding me? I barely touched the guy!" Adam exclaimed.

"You shoved him against a wall and bent his arm backwards," I retort.

"This is ridiculous," Kim claimed. "We were all just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, newsflash, you didn't," Emily spoke.

"No offense, but you guys don't exactly have any effective methods for getting information from people," Kevin put in.

"What, because we don't use violence or feel the need to threaten people with words and weapons? You guys are taking things too far," Derek stated.

"This same thing happened when I was up in New York. You FBI Agents are all so uptight," Hailey grumbled.

"At least we're not in the news all the time for shooting innocent people," I counter. And that just set off an even bigger bomb. Everyone from Intelligence started yelling and cursing at the BAU, and vice versa. Our raised voices floated out into the bullpen and the entrance to the sixth floor, so basically everyone could hear us. Including Hotch.

"What the hell is going on here?" Hotch asked as he stepped into the conference room. All at once, everyone tried to talk to him. Voices flew across the room, some trying to be louder than others, but Hotch wasn't having it. "Everybody quiet down! Y/n, would you please tell me what's going on?"

"They don't want to follow the FBI's rules," I explain. "They're trying to do the police way of things, and they're crossing lines that could get this unit into some serious shit if anyone found out."

"All right. Look, we're happy that you guys are here helping us," Hotch told the Intelligence Unit. "But this isn't Chicago. It's D.C. And we're a federal agency, not just a city one. We have a lot of higher ups breathing down our necks every single second of everyday. So if you guys want to stay here and help, you have to follow the rules. End of story."

Jay sighed. "Fine. We'll tone things down a bit."

"Good. Now, did anyone find anything while out searching the chemical factories?" Hotch questioned.

Spencer raised his hand. "Hailey and I may have found something. All chemical compounds, even if they're the same, have different footprints. It makes it easy to track them in case something goes wrong. So, all of the chemicals from a single batch will have the same genetic makeup to a T. I called Garcia to ask her to look into autopsy reports, and she told me that the Batrachotoxin found in all of the dead politicians matched the footprint of a batch from Ace Chemicals, the supplier we were about to go look into."

"And when we looked through the factory's storage, we found that only 1 gram of the toxin had been stolen," Hailey continued. "According to the manager, he didn't even know it had been missing. But only 136 micrograms of Batrachotoxin is needed to kill a person. That's only .000136 grams. Which means technically speaking, our offender could kill 400 people, including those she already dosed."

"So what you're saying is that we need to hurry the hell up and find this unsub," I sum up. "Got it."

"We should start looking into employees under Ace Chemical and see if any of them have relationships with anyone who fits our profile," Rossi shared.

"I was going to say the same thing. Lets get to work," Hotch ordered.

............................................

"Ugh," I groan and rub my eyes. "Why can't I find anything? Our unsub had to have a connection inside of that factory in order to get the toxin, so why can't I see it?"

"Because the employers you were assigned to look over have absolutely no connection to our unsub. But I may have someone who might," Spencer declared and gestured for me to follow after him. Spencer led me into Hotch's office, and our boss glanced up when the two of us entered.

"Did you find anything?" Hotch quizzed.

Spencer nodded. "Yeah. I was looking through the batch of employees you gave me, and I think I found our missing link. Stephen Thomas. He's a floor manager at Ace Chemicals, meaning he's got access to the Batrachotoxin. He's also got a sister, Molly Thomas, who fits our profile. She lost her son, Daniel, earlier this year because of our first victim, Peter Hart's, new industrial project. Waste from the factory got into the neighborhood's drinking water, and Daniel got sick when playing in a nearby river. He died 2 days later."

"Sounds like a solid lead," Hotch commented. "The two of you go have a chat with Mr. Thomas."

So, the two of us grabbed a set of keys for an SUV and headed down to the garage to find our ride. Knowing that Spencer didn't like to drive, I offered to, and we both climbed into our seats. The first few minutes of the ride were dead silent, but I soon spoke up.

"Do you think it was wrong of me to invite the Intelligence Unit for help?" I ask.

Spencer frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it seems like them being here has only caused a bunch of problems," I answer.

"Don't doubt yourself, Y/n. You brought them in because you thought they could help, which they have," Spencer pointed out. "And yeah, there have been a few issues, but everything's being sorted out. I trust your decisions. I always have, and I always will."

"Thanks, Spencer," I murmur as we came upon Ace Chemical. I pulled into an open parking spot and turned off the car. Then, I looked over at my partner. "You ready to do this?"

"Finally confirm who our unsub is? Yeah," Spencer responded. "I think it's long overdue."

"Then lets get going," I say and hop out of the car. Together, we entered the chemical factory looking for Stephan. On the main floor, we approached a man who looked to be in charge, and he turned towards us as we neared him. "Hi, sir. I'm Agent L/n, and this is Dr. Reid. We're with the FBI. Could you point us in the direction of Stephen Thomas?"

"You're talking to him," the man replied. "I'm Stephen. What can I do for you guys?"

"Were you aware that 1 gram of your Batrachotoxin was missing?" Spencer questioned.

"Uh, yes. I was told by some of my employees that two FBI agents came by earlier to check storage, and that they noticed some of the chemical missing," Stephen shared.

"Okay, and are you aware how deadly that toxin is?" I implore.

"Of course. Everyone who works here does," Stephen revealed. "Now, can I ask what this is about?"

"Does your sister Molly have any access to the storage facilities?" Spencer pushed.

"What? No. I mean, yes, but only once. Just a few weeks ago she..." Stephen trailed off, and his face paled. "She asked if she could grab some of the extra acetone we had laying around. You know, nail polish remover. I never thought.....you think she killed these people?"

"Your nephew Daniel was killed due to neglect by a company owned by a man named Peter Hart. He was the first victim," I disclose. "So yes, we do believe she killed all of these politicians."

"Oh my God," Stephen muttered. "Molly and I just had dinner together last week. After Daniel died, her husband and her drifted apart, and he had just filed divorce papers, so I figured I'd keep her company. How did I not know?"

"Mr. Thomas, it's not your fault," Spencer assured him. "None of this is your fault. Thank you for all of your help."

"No problem. Just, be gentle on Molly, okay? She's had a rough few weeks," Stephen told us.

"Will do, Mr. Thomas," I confirm. "Again, thanks for your help." With that, Spencer and I exited the factory, ready to call the rest of our teammates. However, before we could get back into the car, I reached out and gently grabbed onto Spencer's arm, stopping him from walking any further. He then turned around so that we were face to face. "You did it, Spence! You're a genius. You just solidified our lead. I'm so happy I could kiss you right now!"

"Oh. I uh, I actually wouldn't be opposed to that," Spencer claimed.

And not even a second later, I leaned forwards and pressed my lips to Spencer's. Never in a million years did I think Spencer would like me back, let alone kiss me. I cupped his cheeks with my hands, allowing myself to deepen the kiss. As I did, Spencer moved his hands to my waist to pull me closer. I smiled against Spencer's lips, enjoying the feeling of being this close to him. After a few seconds, the two of us pulled away from each other, but I immediately wanted to be back in Spencer's arms.

"We should contact the rest of the team," I announce. "They can meet us at Molly Thomas' address."

"Okay," Spencer agreed. "Could we maybe talk later? You know, about what just happened."

"Deal. But before we get back to work, I'd really like to kiss you again," I profess. And I did.

___________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @ncostin2001 @evangeline91 @just-arather-veryconfused-being @generalfarmmuffinagle @kaitlyn-marie-a @shywritermoon @jbbarnes212 @multifandom-loser @wanniiieeee @caitsymichelle13 @pinkbay-love

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, y'all. Time to do this one more time. Let the fact that there are so many of these posts right now reinforce the point. Many of you already know this, and I see and love you, but for anyone still ~undecided about their choice, should they be an American citizen of voting age on November 3, 2020:

Time to not be. It was time a long, long while ago, but I am going to have to say it again.

Primary season is over. The endless fine-tooth combing of candidates' policies and positions is over. We are all deeply well aware that the candidates on the Democratic ticket, being human beings and establishment politicians, are flawed. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS POSITION FROM 19/ 20-WHENEVER AS JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY IT'S TERRIBLE TO VOTE FOR -- "

No. Stop. Just stop. Stop threatening to hold the rest of us hostage, in the middle of a pandemic, the Great Depression, and racial inequality and protests on a scale not seen from the 1960s, because you did not get Barbie Dream Candidate. That is the behavior of terrorists and toddlers. If your supposedly enlightened morally pure ideology does not involve any action to mitigate the harm that is directly in front of you, it isn't worth a shit as an ideology actually devoted to helping people. If your approach to politics is to shout about how Pure your ideas are on twitter and tear down anyone working within a system of flawed choices to do the good that they can: you're not helping, and frankly, your constant threats to withhold your suffrage as a punishment to us aren't convincing the rest of us that we really need to listen to you or that you have anyone's best interests at heart. The Online Left TM is as much a vacuous, self-reinforcing noise chamber as the Online Right TM, and can sometimes tend to be even more dangerous.

I was saying this in 2016. A lot of us were saying this in 2016. I am just about to turn 32 years old and have been voting in federal elections for almost 15 years. For what it's worth.

This is not an ordinary election. This is not a contest between two flawed candidates who respect the system and want to work to enact their policies in the ordinary way. One is a flawed 90s era Democrat who nonetheless has already been pushed CONSIDERABLY left in his policies and platforms since the end of the primaries (and his existing platform would already make him the most left president elected, even more than Obama). The other is a fascist dictator who has openly spoken about refusing to accept the election results, his desire to abolish term limits and serve for life, and complete the pillaging of any remaining fragile American public funds for him and his cult of cronies. He does not respect the system. He does not want to do anything for anyone that is not himself. 160,000 and counting needless deaths of American citizens have already happened. Will keep happening.

This is the last time Trump has to face voters. This is the last chance the country has to repudiate his entire poisonous ideology and its marching Nazi minions. IF he steps aside, which is already far from guaranteed, he can ride off into the sunset as a vindicated two term president and probably be rehabilitated like George W. Bush was within a few years of leaving office. American political memory is very short. It will happen. Again, if he even leaves.

RBG is 87 and has cancer again. She will NOT survive another four years. Stephen Breyer is 81. Their seats could both come up in the next four years. The Supreme Court could be a right wing rubber stamp for whatever time we all have left before climate change and coronavirus kill us all.

"But if people just thought for themselves and did their homework and didn't vote the party line like sheep, we could support a third party/write in -- " Stop. Just stop. Attend a ninth grade civics class and learn about how politics work in America. Yes, the two-party system sucks. Yes, the Electoral College is a hot steaming pile of absolute bullshit. Magical unicorn fairy dust fantasies WILL NOT change that.

Do not vote for Kanye (who has pretty much openly admitted he is trying to play spoiler to Biden on behalf of his buddy Trump). Do not vote for godforsaken fucking Gary Johnson or Jill Stein who appear on ballots just to give sanctimonious leftists the illusion of virtue-signaling. If you want any chance of fixing the mess that 2020 has left America and the world in, you need to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. The end.

Biden is a flawed old man who was our last choice, sure. He is also a distinguished public servant who has already been in the White House for eight years under Obama and thus we KNOW what to expect. He is an empathetic man who connects with people's personal tragedy and picked as his running mate a younger Black/biracial woman who directly confronted and called him out on past behavior. While the pundit class was simpering and whining about how it was Disrespectful and how could he consider her, Biden did so, and that speaks well to me of the fact that he is willing to learn, to take criticism, and not just accept it from a former Black female rival, but make her his second in command and the potential first female president of the United States.

Can you EVER picture Trump doing that? Not in eight thousand million years.

As for Kamala, we are all aware of her previous checkered history as a prosecutor (and even then, she did plenty of good things as well!). Since joining the Senate, however, she has consistently become one of its most progressive members. She is the co-sponsor of an economic aid package designed to give every American $2,000/month, backdated to March (the start of the coronavirus pandemic) and continuing at least a few months after its end. A Biden-Harris White House could make that happen. Especially if they are put into office with a Democratic House and Senate (for the love of God, Kentucky, kill Mitch McConnell with fire). That is just one example.

Harris's nomination is obviously historic. And Biden didn't choose another Biden (or another Tim Kaine, the blandest white man imaginable). He chose another Obama: a younger rising star of an immigrant background, a person of color, a former lawyer and someone who represents the diversity of the country that the white supremacists and the Cheeto in Chief have tried to paint as its worst and most degenerate evil.

A vote for Biden and Harris means getting rid not just of Trump, but Mike Pence, Vladimir Putin, Jared Kushner, Betsy Devos, the Trump crony destroying the Postal Service, the rampant coronavirus misinformation and bullshit, the destruction of Social Security and Medicare, the spread of Nazi propaganda from the President's twitter account, the likely two Supreme Court picks that would be as bad as Brett Kavanaugh or worse... on and on. Biden and Harris would be elected by progressive voters and thus answerable to them in 2022 midterms and 2024 general. They can both be, and already have been, pushed further left. They are reasonable and competent adults who have demonstrated experience and compassion. I KNOW about their flaws and past actions I don't agree with. But I'm frankly done with any more counterproductive straw man bitching about This One Bad Thing They Did and how it makes it a terribad awful choice to vote for them. Open your eyes. Look at the alternative. LOOK AT WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS NOT EVEN AS BAD AS IT COULD STILL GET.

Check your registration or register at vote.gov.

DO NOT LOOK AT POLLS AND DECIDE "EH BIDEN IS CLEARLY GOING TO WIN, I DON'T NEED TO VOTE." THAT IS HOW WE LOST LAST TIME.

Unseating incumbents is HARD. It is even harder when the other side has openly laid out their plan to cheat in great detail, and there is nothing really stopping them from doing it. The only thing, in fact, is massive, unfalsifiable results on an undeniable scale.

So:

Vote.

Vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

Thanks a lot.

[crippleprophet]

hi, just wondering if you'd be willing to break down that quote you liked from biopolitics of disability? I felt like I understood the first half (ish) but I'm not really sure about the second.

Is the idea that research on disabled bodies is profitable, or that disabled people will become nondisabled and join the workforce, or is it arguing that like this research is done out of genuine care and concern for disabled people? I can't quite grasp it. obvs if you don't feel like answering I won't be a dick, just thought since your tags seemed enthusiastic you might have things you might wanna say about it.

absolutely, thank you for asking! it’s a somewhat dense quote that could easily be confusing if you don’t have familiarity with certain texts & concepts. i’ll just take it in sections, but i totally invite other commentary & insight! any emphasis is my own.

Rather than social pariahs, disabled people increasingly represent “research opportunities” in the sense that medical race sociologist Aihwa Ong means when she argues that “treating” ill and disabled Cambodian refugees in the United States increasingly “became the justification for state and local clinics to obtain much-needed funding from the federal government” (96).

historically, the goal of biomedical interventions in disability has been to eliminate non-normative bodies. the concept that all disabilities require medical intervention (often framed as an approach that is in opposition to creating an accessible society) is referred to as the medical model of disability. it argues that our bodies (i use the term broadly, inclusive of minds) need to be fixed and that eradicating disability is a good thing.

this quote expands on that prior scholarship and argues that biomedical research into disability exists not only to bring disabled bodies into the sphere of normalcy but also as a way for clinics to obtain funding—funding which only exists because of the government’s panic that people, especially immigrants, may become recipients of services like SSI and Medicaid due to disability.

Rather than a former era’s economic “burden,” disabled people have become objects of care in which enormous sectors of postcapitalist service economies are invested. In the terms of recent political economy, disability has been transformed into a target of neoliberal intervention strategies—a “hot” ticket item for potential research and policy funding schemes. Disabled people, once thrown out of the labor system on the basis of their lack of normative productivity in a competitive labor market, now find themselves “at hand for [the] purposes of accumulation at a later point in time.

to rephrase this in a very bitter and sarcastic way, disabled people used to be rejected from society because we aren’t as productive as abled people, but under neoliberal capitalism, we can be good little consumers just like everybody else! even initiatives that aim to increase disabled people’s autonomy and independence focus on us as consumers of disability-related services and our right to make financial decisions in a capitalist marketplace (link to a bit more on that here).

i’m not saying financial autonomy isn’t important—for many people, it’s the difference between life and death, and i’ll include a quote below with more perspective on that than i can provide. but under the current system, it results in corporations vying for disabled people’s money and watered-down activism arguing that businesses for which we are “objects of care” shouldn’t abuse us because then we won’t pay them.

in a broad political sense, it’s a reactionary rather than revolutionary mindset; sort of like how modern gay rights organizations in the US & other countries push for threatening politicians that they’ll lose the “gay vote” if they support a dangerous homophobic policy. it gives us a sort of power, but one that we only need because we’re living under a deeply broken system. but again, that’s not to say that financial independence isn’t vital for disabled people in the here and now, it just shouldn’t be the biggest we can dream. my goal for our people is liberation, not increased consumption.

“It is about time for revolution. We, people with disabilities, have to claim the decision making power and the financial means that are set aside by the taxpayer for disability policies. We have to gain control of our own lives, our own physical rehabilitation, our own personal assistance. We are the experts, we have to build up our own expertise and know-how. We don't need medical doctors, bureaucrats and social workers to decide what our needs are. We know what our needs are and how they can be fulfilled. We ask services that respond to our needs. We don't want to be the object, but the subject of these services.” —Huys Jos, “From Object of Care to Subject of Services,” Rethinking Care—From the Perspective of Disabled People (link to source pdf)

Put in the language of contemporary postmodern political theory, we might say that capitalism necessarily and always creates its own ‘other’” (Harvey, Neoliberalism 141). The historical production of others situates bodies in a position tantamount to un(der)explored geographies: they come to be recognized as formerly neglected sites now available for new opportunities of market extraction that fuels so much of the production end of neoliberal capitalism.

essentially, disabled bodies are Antarctica: left alone by the capitalist marketplace for a long time out of a vague fear and repulsion, but now everyone’s eying us, wondering what profit they can extract, and we aren’t protected nearly as much under global treaties. neoliberal capitalism demands constant expansion, constant profit growth, so instead of being rejected from the (literal and proverbial) marketplace, we’re catered to in a flimsy way that risks hiding the true state of discrimination we experience.

think of the recent erupting discussions around pride month merchandising and advertising; incredibly discriminatory, oppressive companies change their logos rainbow because they’ve realized lgbtq+ people are profitable. similarly, entire sectors of the market start salivating when you mention the US’s aging population because of all the assistive technology people will need. it’s not access as a human right, it’s access for a profit.

Such developments arrive, inevitably, with their own contradictions intact, but they also provide opportunities for rethinking disability as not only alternatively social, but also nonnormatively material, subject.

the social model of disability argues that disability is created by an inaccessible society; what is disabling is not, for example, someone’s paralysis which requires them to use a wheelchair but rather the fact that the apartment buildings in their area don’t have elevators, the streets don’t have curb cuts, and the stores don’t have automatic doors. this excerpt argues that not only is disability constructed through these social means, it also has a nonnormative materiality, in the sense of dialectical materialism; disabled people are uniquely affected by socioeconomic interactions in ways that affect the conditions of our lives.

[ravennm84]

Lyre Festival Justice

Here is the sequel to Lyre Festival Fraud where you get to see exactly what happened to Lila during her long weekend after she went back to Italy. I thought, at first, that I may have gone to far with the salt... But it’s Lila and I really don’t like her character. So, Warm-Fuzzies and enjoy this salty goodness!!

It was a beautiful day in Rome and Lila was enjoying her shopping spree around the city. She and her mother had spent the first few days after moving back to Italy unpacking and getting settled. It was Sunday, and her mother had to go to the embassy to make sure that all of her paperwork had transferred from Paris, which gave Lila the opportunity to spend the money she’d gotten from the idiots from her old class. Really, she couldn’t believe how stupid they all were to have just handed her over €2,000 for a luxury vacation in Venice. She should have gotten at least €3,000 from the class, but that Mari-brat and stick-in-the-mud Adrien had convinced some of them that she was lying. Oh well, €2,000 was better than nothing.

Best part, none of it could be traced back to her. They travelled to Venice on their own, nothing had been written down, her old mobile phone was disconnected and in a landfill somewhere, and she would just tell her mother that she had gotten all her new clothes at a thrift shop she remembered from the last time they’d been living in Rome. And if the idiots got in trouble and tried to say that she was involved, she’d turn on the tears and her mother would side with her like she always did. Seeing a little cafe, she stopped in to get a good cappuccino, it had been too long since she’d had a deceit cup of coffee.

It was mid afternoon by the time she got home. She had made a stop at the thrift store to grab a couple of their shopping bags to hide the real ones inside. It felt wrong to put a Versace skirt in a bargain bag, but one does what one must to keep her life going smoothly. Opening the door to the apartment, she barely caught sight of her mother sitting on the couch before Lila started gushing about how great it was to be back in Italy and all the things she’d missed. 

She prattled on for a couple minutes before noticing that her mother hadn’t said anything. Turning to look at her, Lila flinched when she saw her. Something was seriously wrong, the last time she had seen her mother so angry was when she’d told her that her dad was cheating on her. That hadn’t been true but they had ended up getting divorced anyway, which was to Lila’s benefit since the man had always called her out on her lies.

“Is everything okay, Mama?” She asked cautiously, doing her best to sound and appear small and innocent.

“Sit down.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Lila set down her bags and sat in the chair across from her mother.

“Mama, wha-”

“Be quiet!” She snapped, and Lila shut her mouth. This actually seemed worse than the fight her parents had before they divorced. “I received a very strange email on Friday night, from a former classmate of yours in Paris. It seemed that the majority of your class was under the impression that we were throwing a party for a lot of important politicians, celebrities, and musicians on a private island and you had invited them. I told myself, ‘not my daughter, she would never do something like that’. But the email went on, with a list of the students that were supposedly going on this trip and gave you money for the expenses. Again, I thought ‘Lila would never be so cruel as to steal money from her friends right before we left Paris’. So I told the person who sent me that detailed information, that I would handle it. I still thought it was a joke.”

The teenage girl didn’t even have to listen to the end of this story, she knew that goody-two-shoes Marinette had ratted her out. Lila was fighting every instinct she had to run and lock herself in her room, but if she moved even a little her mother would stop her. She could only sit there and hope that she could come up with some kind of lie to convince her mother that she was being set up.

“Then when I went into the embassy today, my boss pulled me into his office and started grilling me as to why I allowed seven unaccompanied minors entry into the country. I tried to explain that I had no idea what he was talking about, and then he started reading off the names. Do you want to guess why those names sounded so familiar?”

By this point, Lila was practically curling into herself to make herself appear smaller. She had to say something, any lie that would make her mother believe her and only her. Turning on the tears, she buried her face in her hands and spoke between sobs. Fake crying always gave her a few extra seconds to think before she had to speak. “I swear, Mama. I didn’t want to do it. Marinette forced me to take those papers from your office to give to our classmates so they could get into the country without their parents. I never took any money from them, I swear! Marinette was bullying me the entire time we were in Paris, I was scared of what she’d do to me if I didn’t do what she said. You’ve got to believe me!”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell your class about some non-existent party on a private island, had no knowledge of who was coming into Italy, where they were going, or anything like that?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she brought out her mobile phone.

Her hands were shaking as she kept her face buried in her hands, something about her mother’s tone  and the way she spoke made this feel like a trap. But she couldn’t backtrack now, Marinette was her way out and she had to stick with it. So she nodded as she continued to sob into her hands.

“Then please explain this to me.” Her mother turned the phone towards her and Lila looked up, her face falling in horror when she heard her own voice. It was a video of her telling her class about who was going to be at the party that she and her mom were organizing, how she was going to need to know for sure who all was coming before the weekend, and Marinette had somehow gotten video of Alya and Nino each handing her €300!

It took longer than she would like to admit for the shock to wear off, but she was smart enough to stick to her original story. “It’s fake! Marinette must have made it to get me in trouble. Max probably helped her, he’s really good with computers. It’s all too convenient to be true. I mean, she sends you all this information about which people are going, how much money they gave me, and a story about a party on a private island in Venice, that anyone would be able to see is clearly fake. Can’t you see that I’m being set up?”

Her mother’s eyes grew harder as she stood from her chair, causing Lila to shrink even further into her own. 

“You say that this is all a set up and you had no idea where your classmates were going in Italy, but you just told me the exact city where they were found. You left them waiting on a dock for you to come ferry them to that non-existent private island, and don’t even bother saying that you know which city because of the video I just showed you, because it never names the city they were in.”

Well, crap. She was about to try another tactic, but her mother cut her off before the first syllable left her mouth.

“Young lady, do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?” she yelled, her face beginning to turn a purplish-red and began pacing the room. “You forged my signature on multiple federal documents, endangered the lives of multiple minors, committed theft, and god knows how many other laws you’ve broken. I can’t protect you from this! You will be facing federal charges for what you’ve done!”

Lila felt her stomach drop to her ankles. “But-but that was all in Paris, and I had diplomatic immunity while I was there!”

“It became an international incident when you forged an ambassador’s signature on federal documents that endangered minors! My boss gave me a choice,” her voice grew even harder and colder than before. “Either you answer for what you’ve done and plead guilty, or I lose my job and we both go to trial for what you’ve done.” 

“You’d let me go to jail for one little lie? It’s not like anyone got hurt!” Lila screamed, standing from her chair in a panic. This was much worse than she’d imagined. 

“And what if they had been?” Her mother screamed back. “What if they had been kidnapped and sold into human trafficking? What if one of them had fallen off the dock and drowned in the channel or hit by a boat? I would be held responsible for that because you forged my signature! Do you not care about the people around you at all? What is wrong with you?”

“But nothing happened to them! It’s their own fault for being stupid enough to believe such an obvious lie. And you’re taking their side over mine? How dare you call yourself my mother and claim to love me!” 

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for your bad behavior!” Her mother yelled back as she advanced on her, making her fall back onto the chair. Mme. Rossi looked back at the shopping bags she had knocked over when she had turned, revealing the Versace bag. Tilting her head back, she took multiple deep breaths before looking at her daughter.

“This is what’s going to happen. You are going to return everything you bought today, and you are going to explain to the managers of each store exactly why you are returning everything.” Lila was about to protest, but one look from her mother had her mouth snapping shut. “We will also be clearing out your savings to pay back your classmates for the money you took, their travel expenses, their parents travel expenses, and any money they lost while being away from their jobs to retrieve their children. After that, you will be standing trial for forgery and fraud. If you know what’s good for you, you will go before the judge and apologize profusely for what you’ve done and listen to everything the judge tells you. If you’re lucky you may receive a lenient sentence; but either way, you can expect your next school to be a reformatory school. And if you try to fight me on any of this, I will let a court appointed attorney with no experience handle your case instead of the family lawyer. Have I made myself clear?”

No longer having to fake her tears, Lila nodded to her mother, resigning herself to the fact that her life had been ruined because her mother didn’t love her and Marinette didn’t know how to keep her nose out of where it didn’t belong.

~oOo~

The rest of the day, Lila was forced to return everything that she bought back to the stores and tell the managers how she had stolen the money from her classmates and then abandoned them in a country and city that they weren’t familiar with. The people that overheard her were horrified by what she had done and the managers banned her from ever shopping in those stores again. After all, if she was willing to steal money from her friends, there was little doubt that she would steal from the stores.

After everything was returned, she was taken to the embassy where they recorded her confession on how she lied to everyone, forged her mother’s signature on the documents she stole, and how she scammed over €2,000 from her former classmates. After the confession was taped, she was taken outside of the embassy and handed over to the police to be kept in a juvenile detention center. She screamed at her mother, not believing that she would just hand her over like that, but the woman looked down her nose at her and said, “It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions, young lady.” 

When she arrived at the police station, she was relieved to see their family lawyer was waiting for her, although he was less than thrilled by what she had done. He explained that even as a minor, she could be serving 2-6 years just for the forgery of the documents, that wasn’t even factoring in the scam or reckless endangerment of seven minors. If she were to be tried as an adult, she could be serving 6 years for each document, facing serious fines and more time for each classmate she endangered.

After hearing that, Lila had to rush to the trash can to throw up. She couldn’t believe that one little lie could get her into so much trouble. But this wasn’t her fault, none of it was. If there was anyone to blame, it was that goody-two-shoes Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all the effort she went through to destroy that girl, she just wouldn’t back down. She would make that girl pay for what she’d done. As soon as the charges were all dropped, she would do everything she could, use every dirty trick in the book to force the nosy girl to end her life and stay out of hers.

But that would have to wait for now. For the time being, she would do what her mother said and play her part. Act like the innocent girl that had gotten caught up in her own fibs while trying to make friends in a new country. She didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt or in trouble, she was just so overwhelmed and she is so sorry for everything that happened. She would need to cry a lot, that was a given, but she could do this. Just fake it until she could get her revenge on the girl that ruined her life.

~oOo~Three Months Later~oOo~

Lila hadn’t meant to lose control in front of the judge. She’d spent months locked away with a bunch of low-class delinquents, talking to different lawyers and quack-doctors before going to court. She had been the picture of innocence and childhood regret the second she walked into the courtroom, she was sure to get off all the charges against her. But she and her lawyer had been blindsided. 

The quack-doctors had called her a narcissist and a sociopath, in need of desperate help. To prove that, all of her lies, everything she had said while in Paris had been brought into evidence against her. They’d exposed her truancy and forgery at her old school, found proof of her purposefully getting Marinette expelled, and faking interviews on the Ladyblog which brought her more lawsuits from a bunch of the celebrities she’d lied about. 

Some of her classmates had come to give testimony on what she had done and said during her time in Paris. The goodie-two-shoes brat had even come to Italy to give testimony against her, though Lila hadn’t been allowed in the courtroom while she was there, as Marinette hadn’t felt safe to be in the same room. Lila’s lawyer had actually agreed, probably so she wouldn’t cause a scene. And she probably would have. She would have stabbed her in the face with a pencil, in front of the entire courtroom, if she had the chance.

But the worst had to do with the school security cameras. After M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier had been fired for neglectful and abusive behavior to their students, which had been brought about by the investigation into Marinette’s expulsion, the Board of Governors went farther back through the recordings to see how long the bullying had been going on. What they found was video evidence of Lila grabbing an akuma out of the air and putting it into her earring, and then willingly working with the known terrorist. 

To make matters even worse, Ladybug and Chat Noir had sent a video as testimony of the times Lila had purposefully interfered with their rescues and had led Chat away from Ladybug to make her more vulnerable to the akuma Oni-chan. Her lawyer tried to get the video stricken from evidence as he couldn’t cross-examine the two heroes, but it was denied.

Her parents had been sitting behind her when they showed those videos. When her mother saw them, it was like she completely shut down. She heard her say that she wanted to leave, and Lila watched as her father helped her mother to her feet and lead her out of the courtroom without looking back. 

The judge had been absolutely disgusted with her, going as far as to call her a monster for willingly aiding a terrorist. Since she had already confessed to multiple counts of forgery, fraud, and reckless endangerment of minors, and would now be adding slander and other charges from her time in Paris, the most notable being terrorism; he declared that she would be tried as an adult and was likely to spend the rest of her life in prison.

She’d completely lost it at that point, screaming at the top of her lungs as she jumped over the table to attack the judge. She didn’t remember smashing the water pitcher against one guard's head, scratching another guard across the face, or getting tasered in the back. When she woke up, she was strapped to a bed by her wrists and ankles, her head felt really foggy, and there were a bunch of nurses and orderlies that were keeping keen eyes on her.

Lila Rossi spent the rest of her life heavily medicated in a maximum security mental health hospital. Most every night, the nurses would hear her plotting some kind of scheme to show everyone what a loser Marinette was, but then she would trail off about how she wanted to hear the song Jagged Stone wrote for her or the album she’d help Clara Nightingale write. When she saw people, she would ramble and lie about being a princess or a secret agent, and that she was only here to keep her safe until they came to get her. Over the years, it was all written off as the insane ramblings of a very disturbed girl that would be remaining at the hospital for the rest of her life.

[cyberneticpeoplespolis]

New Zealand’s Paternalism and Imperialism in the Pacific

This is something I wrote back in early march for mainstream news publishers, but didn’t get finished in time before the news cycle moved on from the PIF break up. I’m putting it here for posterity and it might also be of interest for anyone curious about why New Zealand still uses its diplomatic weight to bully its neighbors into line.

New Zealand is losing its grip on the Pacific. That might be a good thing.

This year is the 50th anniversary of the Pacific Islands Forum. Many are talking as though it will be the last.

Last month the Micronesian sub-region, comprising Nauru, Kiribati, Palau, the Marshall Islands, and the Federated States of Micronesia, left the PIF. Since only the Polynesian and Melanesian sub-regions remain, the forum now has a distinctly more South Pacific orientation. But alongside the island nations are three big powers who like to think of themselves as “first among equals”. Two are the settler-colonies of Australia, and New Zealand. The third is France, which effectively has two votes at the forum via its tightly-held colonies of New Caledonia and French Polynesia.

Ostensibly, the breakup is the result of a broken “gentleman’s agreement” wherein each sub-region takes turns providing a candidate for the role of General Secretary. This election was Micronesia’s turn, but instead of supporting Micronesia’s Marshallese candidate, Gerald Zackios, the forum instead elected Cook Islands PM Henry Puna.

Much has been made of this “gentleman’s agreement,” but it was an unwritten rule, and hardly a democratic one. The fact that it was made at all speaks to the low stakes of the forum, and the fact that it was broken speaks to the greater consequences for this election than those prior. 

These consequences will largely be felt by those outside the Pacific islands. The Pacific Islands Forum always meant a lot more to diplomats in Canberra, Wellington, Paris and Washington than islanders, who see it as relatively inconsequential. 

This was reflected in the coverage of the forum’s breakup. Australian, New Zealand, and U.S. outlets and pundits all vied to levy blame on one another for the catastrophe, and painted the election as part of a grand proxy war between competing powers.

Depending on who you talk to, it was all part of a scheme by Australia, New Zealand and France to snub the interests of the United States in the Pacific. Or it was all the result of New Zealand and Australia’s indifference and poor diplomacy. Or it was the result of U.S. militarisation of the North Pacific and strong-arming of island nations. Many pointed out that the split represented an opportunity for China. Great power conflict also affected the framing of the candidates. Zackios is seen as Washington’s man in the region, and this seems deliberate, since he has a long history of cooperation with U.S. military and diplomatic projects. Likewise Micronesians claimed Puna is a proxy for either New Zealand or Chinese interests, despite considerably less evidence for the claim. All of these narratives of great power diplomacy and conspiracies do have some truth to them, but the framing does seem to deny a lot of agency to Pacific peoples. Apart from a few Micronesian diplomats and politicians, few have expressed any appetite for cold warfare. In fact there is a great deal of anxiety around escalating tensions, reduced aid, militarised borders, and foreign navies.

In western media narratives, we can see the lingering spectres of both cold war proxy warfare and colonial entitlement. Western nations are framed as enlightened protectors shielding islanders from threats they couldn’t possibly understand. It is an unwritten assumption that this  paternalistic form of leadership endears western powers to the South Pacific. In reality, the former colonial powers are perceived as unwelcome interlopers. For New Zealand especially, the rhetoric used mirrors the way we talk about our own indigenous relations. There are pretensions of partnership, but always with the Crown as the ‘major’ partner. Beneath the surface lurks an uncritical, vestigial paternalism from days gone by. The question of whether New Zealand is fit to be a regional leader is never asked, just as similar questions are never asked in Canberra, Paris or Washington.

This paternal attitude is a complex thing. It is equal parts denial of past abuses, denial of present economics and new cold war paranoia.

An inconvenient past

There is an unspoken assumption that  New Zealand is a benign force of leadership and regional cooperation. However, this assumption becomes stranger and stranger the further back we look. Holding it necessarily entails forgetting about New Zealand’s long history of open and shameless colonialism, from Seddon’s project for a “Britain of the South Pacific” to Massey’s acquisition of Samoa at Versailles. It means forgetting the unnecessary deaths of a fifth of Samoa from pandemic mismanagement, and disregarding the Black Saturday massacre on the streets of Apia. It might be said that those incidents are too distant to be relevant today. How about something more recent, like the environmental devastation of strip-mining Nauru for phosphate, conducted under a New Zealand-Australian joint venture, or decades of using Vanuatu as a tax haven for New Zealand businesses? Even that’s a bit far back. What about in 2015, when the GCSB was found to be conducting a massive spy operation across the Pacific through Waihopai, while simultaneously operating a hidden spy outpost, codename “Caprica,” in the Solomon Islands? 

All of these events represent massive breaches of trust, yet New Zealand often acts as if recent history is the ancient past when it comes to the Pacific. It takes its diplomatic relationships for granted and expects neighbors to forget about the past, and turn a blind eye to the present. 

Trade Imperialism

The fact is that the most detrimental effects New Zealand has on the Pacific aren’t even intentional; it’s the passive, downstream consequences of the New Zealand economy and its trading relationships which undermine Pacific islands the most.

It’s a truism of economics that good businesses buy low and sell high. But what happens when that takes place on the scale of whole nations? When low-waged countries countries trade with high-waged countries, their goods often fetch a uniformly low price regardless of quality or productivity. On the flip side, high waged countries can always get a good price, often more than their goods are worth. This is a phenomena called “Unequal Exchange,” first noticed in the context of recently-decolonised African nations in the 1960s. The reasons for this are complicated, and have a lot to do with the fact that people can’t move between international industries as easily as money, but suffice to say that the Pacific’s trade with New Zealand is a perfect example of the problem. While Pacific peoples earn an average of only $300 a month, New Zealanders earn about $2,800. The end result is that the goods produced by a New Zealand employee in one day can be worth as much as 9 times the amount a Pacific worker could produce in the same time.

This means that when Pacific nations trade with New Zealand, they immediately lose a lot of money paying for overpriced goods, and can’t make enough off their own exports to cover the cost. Even with the Government’s “Pacific Reset” policy which increased the dwindling Pacific aid budget, the small amounts New Zealand pays in aid are overshadowed by its profits.

Naturally, a lot of island nations want to trade with each other instead. By building up each other’s industries and establishing equal terms of trade, they can avoid the crushing dependency on goods made in New Zealand, Australia, and the U.S. But New Zealand exporters would be vehemently opposed. If Pacific nations  were to shake their dependency, they might get a fair price for their goods, and eventually compete with New Zealand business on an equal playing field. 

Instead, Australia and New Zealand often use the Pacific Islands Forum and other regional bodies to torpedo any proposals for deals that don’t include them, and push their own trade deals. One recent deal was PACER Plus, which was criticised heavily by groups like the Pacific Network on Globalisation for the effects it would have on Pacific communities. One Canadian expert also claimed that deals like PACER Plus are precisely what makes Pacific nations want to trade with China instead.

A Cold War in the Pacific

In recent years the Pacific has split down the middle on the question of addressing trade imbalances. It’s one of those problems everyone recognises, but each solution comes with significant risks. On the one hand, groups like the Wellington-based Pacific Co-operation Foundation argue that unbalanced trade deals like PACER Plus are a positive trend, and any imbalance in outcomes only reflects the poor terms of trade already in place. They say Pacific economies need a chance for capital inflows from New Zealand and Australia, even if the latter countries ultimately benefit much more than the islands ever could.

While once upon a time, this was all that Pacific islands could hope for, nowadays there are other options. Semi-developed economies like China can offer many of the same products as much richer countries, at prices Pacific nations can actually afford thanks to much lower wage costs. But in the context of escalating trade warfare – and possible military conflict – between China and the United States, some island economies have chosen to tie their fates more tightly to superpowers in the hopes of receiving more aid and investment. The U.S. in particular requires new island construction sites across the Western Pacific in order to give strategic depth to its plans for an extensive network of missile and aircraft bases to be aimed at China by 2022.

With Micronesia situated close to the massive US naval base at Guam, it is not surprising that the Mircronesian bloc at the Pacific Islands Forum has taken a strongly anti-Chinese stance, in some cases going further than Washington itself. Three of the nations are official associates of the U.S., and three have fostered ties with Taiwan, a strong US ally which is itself heavily dependent on american military and political backing.

On the other side of the divide, most Polynesian and Melanesian nations have attempted to stay out of the escalating tensions. They have continued to trade with New Zealand and Australia, while simultaneously pushing for greater self-sufficiency, including a growing trade relationship with China. The reason for the shift is perfectly logical: China can offer better terms of trade, and its banks can fund major infrastructure projects that almost no western bank would even consider backing. But what of Chinese debt trap diplomacy? All of the Pacific island nations, apart from the Micronesian bloc, have repeatedly ignored the dire warnings by western diplomats about potential asset seizures for defaulting on their huge Chinese loans. The answer is simple: as an exhaustive analysis from The Atlantic recently pointed out, the debt-trap narrative was made up from the start. It’s one of those post-truth narratives that exist beyond debate no matter how many times it’s debunked. This is especially true in the Pacific, where despite obvious vulnerabilities, experts contend that there is no evidence of debt traps. None of that has stopped the spectre from being raised yet again in the wake of Micronesia’s walk-out.

With nothing much to offer except fearmongering and sabre-rattling, is it any surprise that Pacific nations are seeking alternatives to western trade and aid dependency? If New Zealand is serious about restoring trust and equality in the Pacific, it may want to start by recognising island nations can currently get better deals elsewhere, and try to match them. If it wanted to take a more transformational approach, it would consider something like a Pacific Common Travel Area that could allow labour to move as freely as goods, and permanently mitigate the effects of trade imperialism through better remittance income and wage equalisation. Of course, such things would run counter to too many vested interests to be considered.

Just another Pacific island nation

Returning for a moment to the coverage of the breakdown of the Pacific Islands Forum, let’s re-examine the implicit understanding that New Zealand ought to be taking a leadership role. Part of that is natural – New Zealand will always be the biggest island chain among many – but at least part of that sentiment echoes the colonial entitlement of Seddon or Massey. Why should New Zealand be taking a leadership role when its trade interests will always endanger Pacific sovereignty? What about the last century of Pacific-NZ relations would even remotely suggest that New Zealanders are trusted in the Pacific? This distrust is certainly apparent when it comes to Micronesian leaders, who have criticised Cook Islands PM Henry Puna as a lackey of New Zealand, since his islands are still part of the New Zealand Realm. This is hardly fair to Puna, as his personal positions are clearly at odds with New Zealand’s vision for the region, but the fact that his links to New Zealand are such a handicap speaks volumes about New Zealand’s image across the Pacific.

New Zealand’s foreign policy vacillates between an out-of-touch paternalism and an equally out-of-touch assertion that it is an equal member of the Pacific community. Government reports on the Pacific Reset and PACER Plus are filled with this confusing language, speaking of equal partnership one minute and unilateral leadership the next. Both positions are quite blind to New Zealand’s actual reputation, and its ongoing exploitation of Pacific workers via trade imperialism.

It also says a lot that in every opinion piece published on the PIF debacle, the writers have had but one concern: influence. Former Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd was one prominent voice bemoaning the loss of Australia and New Zealand’s influence in the island forum. But what are the actual consequences for island nations? As Stephen Howes and Sadhana Sen pointed out, there aren’t many. Countries were willing to risk a split because no one really had any stakes in the forum. No trade deals were directly tied to forum membership, even those negotiated through its channels, and most of the genuinely important regional initiatives like the University of the South Pacific won’t be affected. 

The only people really bemoaning the loss are those in New Zealand and Australia who used the forum as an opportunity to intervene in Pacific affairs, or those who wanted an opportunity to engage in some old-fashioned cold warfare. Regionalism and cooperation are very good things, but when it comes to diplomacy and trade deals between islands, maybe Australia and New Zealand should sit it out, as their idea of regional leadership is often closer to being the local bullies.

When New Zealand realises the immense imbalances in economic and political power it has perpetuated in the Pacific, maybe then it will be one island nation among many. Until then, it has to earn that right.

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 13

A/N: Always and first thank you to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for always doing the thing. and to @kimmania who always gives each chapter a thoughtful review. 

13.  

“Oh, my dear it’s so lovely of you to come to brunch. I was starting to feel a little put off you know. All those invitations you so politely refused. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Stacie smiled and sipped her cool iced tea to give herself a moment. It was true, she had ignored all of Edith’s requests to have lunch. And yes, she had been avoiding the older woman. It was a matter of self-preservation really. Keeping up the appearance of normality around someone as observant as Edith Roussard-Ford was never easy. She had a keen eye and open ear to everything that happened to the biggest families in society.

“Well…I suppose I can be frank with you. Now…that things are…resolved.”

The old woman across from her nodded encouragement and leaned forward eager for any tidbit she could glean from Stacie. It was necessary even she’d rather not talk about life with Weston. When dealing with Edith you had to give some to get some.

“Of course, my dear. Dreadful business…”

“It was hard to get away…often times my only haven was my work. Weston was…” Stacie trailed off and cleared her throat. It wasn’t acting, the rush of anxiety she experienced just thinking about that time robbed her of speech. “Weston Whitman was a very controlling man. Controlling and more often than not…violent.”

It never got any easier admitting the truth of things but she raised her chin defiantly. Edith’s eyes widened slightly but her surprise was more about Stacie admitting it than the confirmation itself. She waited a beat for the other woman to ask what she knew was coming.

“Oh, dreadful. Just dreadful. And still…you never knew? There wasn’t a hint of suspicion about his true character?”

“Of his character, yes. Of his actual coming and goings and affairs…no. I had no knowledge of those terrible things. I shudder to think of him, under my roof, sleeping next to me self-satisfied with the blood of innocent women on his hands. What a joke I must have been to him with my work at the shelter, helping him keep up the façade unknowingly.”

“To think nothing of the scandal about the money.”

Of course, the money was far more important a topic than her public humiliation and shame. Stacie let her gaze drop demurely. Money was everything in this world, who had it, who needed it, and who stole it…

“I’ll admit Edith, I had some concerns about Weston’s business. He seemed edgy and evasive and he asked me to empty my personal safe…spending cash. Some jewelry. It was nothing that would ever pay back his investors.”

“I heard the federal agents seized everything. It’s a wonder you have a roof over your head, my dear.”

Stacie’s smile was brief and coy. “Much like oil and water, money and love simply do not mix. When you’re a Conrad you learn that at quite a young age.”

Edith leaned back to watch her carefully. Weighing all that she had learned and the earnestness in which Stacie had conveyed it. She could see the respect dawn in Edith’s gaze and when the woman leaned forward again it was with eager confidence.

“You may be a Conrad in name but you are Helene’s daughter in more than appearance. Your father barely had a nickel to his name when she ran off with him. Now there’s a scandal for you!”

It was surprising and Edith laughed gleefully when it showed on her face. She’d been raised her whole life on the presumption that her mother hand done what she had been expected to do. Money marries into money.

“Didn’t know that did you? She might have run off with August but she was no fool. Van der Berg family lawyers ensured he couldn’t take a dime of it.” Interesting. Stacie made a soft thoughtful sound and Edith continued unprompted. “You have to hand it to August. He made a name for himself. All that money is his by right…I suppose.”

Stacie’s brows came up and she tipped her head to the side. “You sound doubtful of that Edith.”

“I wouldn’t dream of speaking ill of your father, dear. I know you’re not close but there are some bonds that can’t be broken. Family bonds. You understand. I wouldn’t want you to have different opinions of your father. He’s done well by your mother.”

It was there, below the surface, begging to brought into the open. Stacie could feel it between them, brewing like a great storm. One little flicker of interest and it would come out. And then things would change forever between Stacie and August Conrad. And with that she was sure the tentative and fragile bridge she and her mother were building.

But if she were really like her mother, Helene would understand why she was doing this. At least that is what she hoped if this all ever came to light. Stacie let out a soft sigh and leaned back. She couldn’t out right ask about it, it had to be done delicately. Edith watched her work through the knowledge that there was something going on that she hadn’t been aware of. It was a careful dance baiting the woman to reveal more than what Stacie herself had given.

“Well, whatever my father is or is not doing, it’s nothing I know about. He and Weston shared that in common.”

“Ah yes. Thick as thieves those two…”

There it was. The hook Edith thought she was dropping in the water. Stacie batted her eyes in mild confusion, ignoring the slightly predatory smile on the old woman’s face. Her lip pouted out just enough to give the impression that she wasn’t making the leap entirely. Stacie smiled inwardly as Edith swallowed her own lure.

“Mind you, I’m not saying August is a thief, he’s merely an opportunist you see. He’s very good at knowing who to know. It’s how he made his fortune through the years. Nothing illegal in it exactly. Most would say it’s a shrewd bit of business.”

“But I don’t see how that could help him benefit from Weston’s…activities. Of course, he knows everyone, he’s a politician.”

“Hm indeed, indeed. Of course, he wouldn’t be involved in any such thing. Strike it from your thoughts, my dear.” The woman brushed a hand over her knuckles, and not for the first time during the conversation. Aubrey probably would have called the tell earlier but Stacie was proud of herself for picking it up now. “In any case I am quite sure Senator Grant and Warren Randall would lean very heavily on your father if they felt he was in any way responsible for Weston stealing their money.”

Stacie’s heart beat double time but she rolled her shoulders casually in a shrug. Jackson Grant and Warren Randall were her father’s closest confidants, present at every family function since as far back as she could remember. Uncle Jack had even gifted her the first horse she had ever owned. They were, in a fashion, family.

“I haven’t seen Uncle Jack in a few years. Not since his son Kodie and I went to Senior Prom together.”

It hadn’t been her choice of date, and the argument that had raged in the Conrad home had lasted three intolerable days, she and her mother butting heads on everything from the color of her dress to the way she wore her hair. Kodie wasn’t a bad guy and truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to go the dance with her any more than she had with them. But it had been arranged years before the event was even due to take place. In the end they both dutifully took their places next to each other for pictures in the foyer before escaping to the limo to get happily drunk on the well-stocked wet bar.

“I had almost forgotten about the blush of young love. I was worried about that boy for a while. You heard they caught him awhile back in a house full of street whores and enough cocaine to give that Tony Montana character a seizure.”

Her brows came up at that. It seemed unlike the boy she had known but people changed and it took more strength to keep from breaking under the family pressure than perhaps Kodie had. She let her curiosity at the topic glimmer to the surface.

“A house full of…he was the perfect gentleman at prom. I can hardly imagine that scene.”

“Who can say what’s gotten into that young man. If Jackson hadn’t gotten him a job at the Port of Los Angeles, he’d probably be in an out of rehab facilities I imagine.”

She could tell by the way Edith waved a hand dismissively that Kodie wasn’t worth the energy to think on. Stacie lifted a shoulder casually giving it the appropriate gesture of disinterest that was expected. There wasn’t much more to gain from digging further. Eventually Edith would wonder why she was so eager to gossip about the families. It was better to go on to something everyone knew.

“Speaking of rehab, did you know Tristaan has a new line coming out now that he’s clean and sober? He plans to call it Clarity. I saw a sneak peek of some of the pieces and they are just gorgeous. You’d just adore the mother of pearl pin collection…”

The conversation shifted easily and she spent another hour enjoying the afternoon with Edith. She kept the tone of their topics light but her mind was turning over the information she’d gleaned. Stacie was willing to bet even money that Uncle Jack and Warren Randall were in on whatever Weston was into. Whatever business they had together scared Weston, enough to demand she empty her safe, liquidate assets…it was big. Big enough to ignore Weston’s predilection to torturing and murdering women. Stacie knew there was a bigger play on the table, she could feel it even if she couldn’t see it yet. They needed more information and she knew just which card to play. She waved one last time to Edith as she slid into the backseat of the SUV.

“Home?”

She gave Happy a distracted nod that the blonde smiled at before turning to put the car in gear. “Who do we know in drugs?”

Happy’s bright eyes cut to her quickly in the rearview mirror with curiosity. She was weighing the request to see if Stacie was joking or not. After a second she gave a delicate grunt and focused on the road.

“Depends on how much of what you’re looking for.”

“Enough cocaine to make Tony Montana have a seizure.”

This time the eyes panned up in a slow disbelieving arc. Stacie smiled widely and gestured to the street to remind the other woman to keep her focus where it needed to be.

“We might know a guy…”

“Good. Aubrey’s going to want to talk to him.”

“I’ll make it happen, boss.”

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

TLDR: the present sucks, I can’t wait until we get to the future.

[I make a lot of posts by starting with one idea and just following my train of thought wherever it takes me. If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you may have noticed I tend to rant and meander and make posts with no real point other than for me to say what I want to say (just look through my “rant” tag), and this one is no different. I have just been seeing a lot of political posts today, and I needed to vent. I don’t know, it’s a fruitless endeavor, I’m just some rando shouting his opinions into a canyon and hoping I hear an echo, but it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something, so by God I’m gonna a keep doing it]

Is anyone else actively waiting for The Revolution™?

Like, I’m operating under the assumption that “shit’s gon go down” in the near future. 2020 was but a taste, a glimpse of the horrors to come. I guarantee you something much, much, MUCH worse will happen in 2024.

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for the final straw to break the camel’s back. The country is a glass of grape juice balanced precariously on the edge of a counter right above new white carpet; it’s going to fall, it’s just a matter of when.

I don’t WANT war. I don’t WANT unrest. A lot of people will die in the conflict, I cannot condone it, but I often feel as though we’re otherwise helpless. Staying the course won’t change anything, but last years’ protests demonstrably worked; a lot of the calls for change were just talk, as politicians haven’t committed anywhere near as much as they promised to, but the protestors managed to ensure #45 remained a one-termer. Protests give people agency, they let them have an active role, it gave them some power or at least a feeling of power.

Nothing short of revolution will effect substantive change in this country; politicians aren’t just going to suddenly agree to stop making things worse and start making them better. They will only concede when the personal pressure is too great for them to continue. Change only happens when they let it happen; we can’t change anything unless they’re on board, and the only way to get them on board is to make it impossible for them to be off board. Southern conservatives opposed the 1964 Civil Rights Act, but LBJ strong-armed them into passing it anyway. He put pressure on them, and they relented, not because they had a change of heart and wanted to do right, but because they knew doing wrong would be personally detrimental.

We need to make things expensive for the cops and capitalists and conservatives. We need to make them want to stop investing time and money into opposition. We need to break their spirit, crush their morale. It’s a war of attrition, and we need to push them and push them and push them until they’ve had enough and finally sue for peace.

I’m a 24 year old white kid preaching about La Resistance™, I am the embodiment of entitlement. Who am I to talk? Who am I to ask other people to fight when I’m not willing to do so myself? I don’t think of myself as unwilling, I think that given the opportunity I’d be able to fight, but that’s just it, I’m making excuses not to fight in the moment! I keep insisting that I can’t do anything right now, that maybe I’ll be able to do something later, which proves I’m a hypocrite! If I actually cared, I wouldn’t be posting about it to an echo chamber of a couple dozen users I’ve never met on tumbler dot com. If I actually cared, I’d be radicalized by now. I’d be part of a movement, I’d have used my privilege to put my money where my mouth is (I don’t have A LOT of privilege, but I have enough, more than most people, that I could be using it for good)

I feel like posting about this in a public forum is counterproductive. All it does is paint a target on my back for the NSA or FBI or CIA to monitor my movements. If I really cared, I’d go underground and join an actual group, but the problem is that left-wingers don’t really HAVE any groups! Antifa isn’t an organization, it’s an ideology! There are no left-wing militia groups, no splinter cells, no Resistance! Only right wingers do that sort of shit, and they do it with impunity because the feds will never look into them until it’s too late, whereas the feds will nip any left-wing movement in the bud before it sprouts.

I want to be part of something greater than myself, but I’m a coward. I am disillusioned, but there’s no constructive outlet for me. The last thing I want to do is get recruited by some death cult, as happens to a lot of white men my age. I don’t want the message of this post to be that there should be left-wing versions of all the right-wing terrorist groups we ser, I’m not saying I would want to join a liberal version of the proud boys or whoever else (they don’t exist, and I wouldn’t join even if they did), what I’m saying is I want agency in my life. I want to believe I can be in charge of my own destiny, without living in fear of federal and state and local government hurting people. I’m relatively safe, I’m a cis-het white male, I’m not gonna be targeted by extremist groups, I’m not gonna be assassinated by cops for driving with my hands at 9 and 12 instead of 10 and 2. I’m not afraid for my future, I afraid for the future of others with less privilege than me.

I really don’t want to come across as sounding like a libertarian. Like, I don’t fear the concept of government, I fear THIS government specifically. I don’t fear taxes, the exact opposite, I would increase the marginal tax rates to their pre-Reagan levels, I would raise corporate taxes and then put heavy sanctions on any of them that tried to leave the country to avoid paying them, I’d gladly pay more from my own minimum wage paycheck if it meant other people could have the resources they need. I find myself in the green quadrant, but I am by no means a libertarian by the American definition (fuck the Libertarian party, they’re just secular Republicans)

Most American politicians are in the upper right blue quadrant. Yes, even the Democrats. Even so-called Democratic Socialists like Sanders and Warren are closer to the center than actual left-wingers in any other country. There are still communist parties in Europe, but they will NEVER be anti-capitalist parties in the United States. The best we can hope for from our leaders is to keep them from going up or right. If third-party candidates were viable, I’d be a Green, but they’re not, so I’m begrudgingly a Democrat (derogatory).

I just want people to prosper. I don’t want anyone to suffer, I don’t want people to get hurt, I want people to be safe. That shouldn’t be too much to ask, but over the last 250 years we’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to get to where we are today, and this is nowhere NEAR a good place to be.

For the right, the best society was 50 years ago. For the left, the best society is 50 years from now.

There is no end to history, we’ll never reach some cosmic finish line and be like “we did it, we’re done, we won and everything will be good forever,” no, we will always need to keep fighting to drag ourselves further and further towards progress. I find the carrot-on-a-stick to be a very comforting analogy; sure, we’ll never reach it, but we’ll always be moving forward. The carrot isn’t the goal, the destination is the goal. We need to understand that whatever we’re striving for now will look primitive and backwards in ten or twenty years time, so we need to constantly look towards the future instead. Everything changes with time, and we need to get ahead of it, we need to be ready for it, we need to accept and embrace it. If we pick a goal and reach it, we need new goals, we can’t just celebrate victory in the moment and pretend like we’re done. We kept fighting after 1776, and 1865, and 1964, and 2020; there will always be greater milestones to achieve.

[disillusioned41]

Not waiting before such thinking takes firmer hold or begins to be put into action, Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is speaking out forcefully against radical centrist pundits, so-called "Never-Trump Republicans," and corporate-friendly Democratic operatives trying to advance a post-election narrative that the Democratic Party's growing progressive base is a faction to be sidelined as opposed to one that should be embraced.

"I need my colleagues to understand that we are not the enemy. And that their base is not the enemy. That the Movement for Black Lives is not the enemy, that Medicare for All is not the enemy."—Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

As much of the nation—and the world—celebrated Joe Biden's historic defeat of President Donald Trump on Saturday, Ocasio-Cortez gave an interview to the New York Times in which she repudiated those in recent days who have tried to cast a new wave of progressive lawmakers—backed by an army of like-minded supporters and organizers—as somehow dangerous to the party.

Epitomized by a comment that made the rounds on social media Saturday by former Ohio governor John Kasich, a lifelong Republican, the thinking goes that progressives policy solutions (which, in fact, turn out to be highly popular with voters across the political spectrum)—such as Medicare for All, forgiving student loan debt, expanding Social Security, a massive federal increase to the minimum wage, a green energy transition and jobs program, demanding racial justice, and working to end mass incarceration—are toxic politically to Democrats.

"The Democrats have to make it clear to the far-left that they almost cost him this election," said Kasich, who endorsed Biden earlier this year and was given a speaking role at the party's convention this summer, during a CNN interview Saturday. The comments quickly drew ire among progressives, who have condemned the very idea that figures like Kasich should have any say whatsoever in the party's future projection.

"Yesterday," tweeted People for Bernie on Sunday morning in response to the comments, "we officially entered a new era of not listening to anything John Kasich says. The era will continue until further notice."

And Ocasio-Cortez was among those who rebuked the remarks online as she defended her fellow Squad member, Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.), from the insinuation that progressive House victories in key districts didn't play a large role—as observers have pointed out—in helping deliver the White House for Biden.

"John Kasich, who did not deliver Ohio to Dems, is saying folks like Omar, who did deliver Minnesota, are the problem," Ocasio-Cortez tweeted in direct response to his comments. "Please don't take these people seriously and go back to celebrating and building power."

Common Dreams reported Thursday how Omar in Minnesota—just like Rep. Rashida Tlaib in her Detroit, Michigan district—were "major factors" in helping Biden pull away from Trump in those key battleground states.

In her interview with the Times, published late Saturday night, the New York Democrat—who won her reelection with nearly 70% of the vote in her district—elaborated on that dynamic.

"If the party believes after 94 percent of Detroit went to Biden, after Black organizers just doubled and tripled turnout down in Georgia, after so many people organized Philadelphia, the signal from the Democratic Party is the John Kasichs won us this election?" said AOC. "I mean, I can't even describe how dangerous that is."

On Sunday, Ocasio-Cortez joined CNN's Jake Tapper to discuss the issues she raised in the Times interview and also emphasized the need for Democrats, as a party, to come together in unity:

Progressives like Mike Casca, former communications director for Bernie Sanders' 2020 campaign, applauded Ocasio-Cortez for both her critique and outspokenness.

"What I love most about this interview, and AOC," commented journalist Alice Speri on Saturday morning, "is that she says what she thinks, pulls no punches, and puts her name to it. Just imagine if journalists stopped allowing politicians to stay anonymous for no reason other than their lack of courage."

Tana Ganeva, a criminal justice reporter, said: "AOC is so fucking smart. I can't believe there was actually an effort to deem her 'not smart.' This is the smartest analysis I've read in months."

In the interview—in which she acknowledged that internally within the party "it's been extremely hostile to anything that even smells progressive" since she arrived in 2018—Ocasio-Cortez expressed frustration that the more left-leaning members of the caucus are now under attack for losses suffered by its more centrist members.

What the election results have shown thus far, she said, is "that progressive policies do not hurt candidates. Every single candidate that co-sponsored Medicare for All in a swing district kept their seat. We also know that co-sponsoring the Green New Deal was not a sinker."

Instead of blaming for progressives—something that ousted Florida Democrat, Rep. Donna Shalala, did on a caucus conference call after her defeat last week—Ocasio-Cortez said the party needs to have a much more serious look at what led to those failures.

As she told the Times: "If I lost my election, and I went out and I said: "This is moderates' fault. This is because you didn't let us have a floor vote on Medicare for all. And they opened the hood on my campaign, and they found that I only spent $5,000 on TV ads the week before the election? They would laugh. And that's what they look like right now trying to blame the Movement for Black Lives for their loss."

Ocasio-Cortez said the party must begin to examine some of its entrenched belief systems—as well as internal power structures—so it can have a more honest assessment of where shortcomings exist and how to better prepare for the future:

There's a lot of magical thinking in Washington, that this is just about special people that kind of come down from on high. Year after year, we decline the idea that they did work and ran sophisticated operations in favor of the idea that they are magical, special people. I need people to take these goggles off and realize how we can do things better.  If you are the D.C.C.C., and you're hemorrhaging incumbent candidates to progressive insurgents, you would think that you may want to use some of those firms. But instead, we banned them.

So the D.C.C.C. banned every single firm that is the best in the country at digital organizing.

The leadership and elements of the party—frankly, people in some of the most important decision-making positions in the party—are becoming so blinded to this anti-activist sentiment that they are blinding themselves to the very assets that they offer.

Ocasio-Cortez further explained that while she and others have tried to get other members to modernize their campaign operations, those offers have persistently been rebuffed.

"I've been begging the party to let me help them for two years," she said. "That's also the damn thing of it. I've been trying to help. Before the election, I offered to help every single swing district Democrat with their operation. And every single one of them, but five, refused my help. And all five of the vulnerable or swing district people that I helped secured victory or are on a path to secure victory. And every single one that rejected my help is losing. And now they’re blaming us for their loss."

"So I need my colleagues to understand that we are not the enemy," she continued. "And that their base is not the enemy. That the Movement for Black Lives is not the enemy, that Medicare for All is not the enemy. This isn't even just about winning an argument. It's that if they keep going after the wrong thing, I mean, they're just setting up their own obsolescence."

And what if the Biden administration takes the lead of people like Kasich—of whom there is much chatter that he could serve in the next cabinet—and proves itself hostile to its progressive base?

"Well, I'd be bummed, because we’re going to lose. And that's just what it is," responded Ocasio-Cortez, who elsewhere said it is her simple belief that "people really want the Democratic Party to fight for them" and that it's the party's responsibility to show that not in words, but in deed.

"It's really hard for us to turn out nonvoters when they feel like nothing changes for them," she warned. "When they feel like people don't see them, or even acknowledge their turnout."

[aelaer]

☕ I AM totally cooking you up in this ask on how much you know about the Accords and the way they relate to the US's federal law 👀👀👀

Ahhh, yeah, I was due an ask like this. It took a while to get to, so hopefully you eventually see it, md. Note that all regulations are directly from the Wiki, which drew from the canon of Agents of SHIELD, which had huge plot points around the Accords. Possibly the other old Marvel TV shows too, I’m not sure. And without this expansion, we’d know literally nothing about them, but they fit a lot of what was in the comics so I’m cool as accepting them as canon. Your Mileage May Vary.

This is super long so I put it under a cut.

Any enhanced individuals who agree to sign must register with the United Nations and provide biometric data such as fingerprints and DNA samples.

Nothing breaking current US law. You’re expected to get fingerprinted if you do certain things for the state in certain states in the US. For instance, when I took a tutoring job for underprivileged children in my early college years, I was fingerprinted. I wouldn’t be surprised if higher-security jobs also require something similar.

However, to my knowledge these are all state or nationwide databases, not international. There may be some argument to be made about which officials from which country have access to your fingerprints, as it is with the Accords.

In this fictional universe, DNA samples may be more of an issue due to how meta-humans may have altered DNA and we alllll know that of those 117 countries that signed, at least a dozen of them would try to weaponize it in some capacity. If I were a meta-human in the MCU, this would be my largest concern.

Any enhanced individuals who sign are prohibited from taking action in any country other than their own unless they are first given clearance by either that country's government or by a United Nations subcommittee.

This makes complete sense and should have been established long ago. If it wasn’t already established, then the world governments of the MCU are... well, just as slow and dumb as the real world’s.

Any enhanced individuals who do not sign will not be allowed to take part in any police, military, or espionage activities, or to otherwise participate in any national or international conflict, even in their own country.

The UN does not have the authority to dictate what an individual country does or does not allow their population to do, for better or worse. The atrocities carried out across the world by various world governments against their people is the best evidence of that.

That said, in this case, I don’t think it’s any of their business to dictate this. If France wants meta-humans in their police force regardless as to whether they’ve signed the Accords or not, that’s France’s business. If Japan wants to bolster their army with meta-humans who didn’t sign, that’s Japan’s business. The rest of the world may not be happy with that, but the UN is not an elected ruling body and just doesn’t have the authority to make regulations like that. A lot of countries will play nice with sweeping calls such as that and go along with them, but they’re under no obligation to follow them (and certainly not with US law - the UN’s rulings have zero legal ramifications here until they’re passed in state or federal legislatures).

Any enhanced individuals who use their powers to break the law (including those who take part in extralegal vigilante activities), or are otherwise deemed to be a threat to the safety of the general public, may be detained indefinitely without trial.

Hahaahahhahahahahah. No. Breaks the Fifth Amendment in the Bill of Rights, which is a part of the Constitution (which equals the backbone of American law -- things that go to the Supreme Court are there to basically see if something is constitutional or not. It’s a lot more complicated than it sounds, though).

Unfortunately this is a real situation that’s being dealt with now with specific people of the “aiding terrorists” category throughout the last 20 or so years of presidency (both the left and right with politicians signing it, and both the left and right with American activists opposing it, according to my brief study on the issue - you can look up indefinite detention if you want to read more).

Regardless, super super breaks the Fifth Amendment. While the amendments were written for specifically American citizens or folks on American soil, I personally think it’s important it’s a value that is upheld with everyone, no matter what they’ve been accused of. But that’s all I’ll say on that real world topic. This UN mandate hits very close to home - kudos to the writer who put that in for that touch of reality.

The use of technology to bestow individuals with innate superhuman capabilities is strictly regulated, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology (such as Asgardian and Chitauri weaponry).

Doesn’t break any known laws to my knowledge. Regulation of dangerous things is pretty common.

The Avengers will no longer be a private organization and will operate under the supervision of the United Nations.

I don’t think the UN has the legal ability to do that. The US government would need to do this as this is a private organization operating within the US on US soil. The US government has acquired private organizations in real life (like GM during the financial crisis of 2008), but they quickly find how much that sucks and sell them off as soon as they can, lol.

Again, the UN is operating under the supposition that they actually have the legal wherewithal to do this when, in reality, they don’t. There is no such thing as international law in the real world and I sincerely doubt in the MCU verse.

What would very likely happen, should Thanos not have ruined this exciting political drama, is that the US totally agrees to do this. Then a new administration or legislature comes in and reverses it 2-6 years later, assuming that all of the lawsuits from various countries didn’t cripple the Accords sooner.

Those with secret identities must reveal their legal names and true identities to the United Nations.

Hahahahaha. Under whose authority? We’ve established there’s no international law. It’d be up to every single individual country to agree to not only do this, but *share* this list with every other country. If I was the decision maker in the US or China, there’s no way in fucking hell I’d do that. Israel or Iran? Fuck no! Do I *want* all my meta humans to be assassinated by other countries?

The MCU has this little fairy tale (that sometimes the real UN carries on with) that everyone gets along just great when, in reality, that’s really, really, really unlikely.

Those with innate powers must submit to a power analysis, which will categorize their threat level and determine potential health risks.

I could make an argument that this breaks the Fourth Amendment (unreasonable searches and seizures). You cannot forcefully take DNA from someone unless they’ve been convicted of a crime (and in, I think 20 states I just read, if you’ve been arrested, but even that’s been challenged under the Fourth Amendment in those various states the past decade).

If they’re already having a legal argument about this for DNA of people who were arrested, they’re going to have a hell of an argument for this requirement just for *existing*.

Those with innate powers must also wear tracking bracelets at all times.

Oh that’s nice, the UN thinks meta-humans are animals! Likely breaks the Fourth Amendment. Found an interesting article about Amazon and their little tracking bracelets from two years ago that is semi-relevant, and those are employees. Imagine if you required everyone of some minority race or nationality to wear a tracking device because they’re statistically more dangerous due to the prevalence of crime amongst them, or something inane like that.

Yeah, it’s something like that bad. Definitely breaks the privacy protection that previous rulings regarding the Fourth Amendment have established.

Governments are forbidden from deploying enhanced individuals outside of their own national borders unless those individuals are given clearance as described above. The same rule also applies to non-government organizations that operate on a global scale (including S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers).

International law doesn’t exist. This is done via treaties and agreements, but again, the UN has no legal leg to stand on (and countries -- US included -- often just ignore them). If China wants to take over Nepal with meta humans, who the fuck is really gonna stop them? I mean, really? If the US wanted to take over Baja California from Mexico, same question. The UN just doesn’t have the authority (or frankly put, the manpower). Countries often play nice, but there’s plenty of times where they don’t, either.

(But you know who would try to prevent the US/China from taking over Baja/Nepal? Meta humans. That likely aren’t allowed to fight under Accords mandates but do so anyway, all the while flipping the bird towards their nearest UN building :D)

As a corollary, they will not be allowed to participate in any active missions undertaken by private or governmental law enforcement/military/intelligence organizations (such as S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers).

See “international law doesn’t exist and it’s up to each individual country to determine this for themselves” as explained in previous sections.

If an enhanced individual violates the Accords, or obstructs the actions of those enforcing the Accords, they may likewise be arrested and detained indefinitely without trial.

As established, breaks the Fifth Amendment of the US. And fuck, we saw this in action in Civil War-- or so it seemed. Ross definitely looked like he was leaning that way. I wouldn’t put it past Ross. He’s been bad news ever since he was hunting the Hulk.

The creation of self-aware artificial intelligence is completely prohibited.

Heh, not really applicable to the current world, but not necessarily something I’d like to see in the real world either. I’m afraid we’re gonna get a Skynet or HAL rather than a JARVIS or WALL-E.

This was fun, in a weird way.

[countessofbiscuit]

If you're taking potential prompts...Fox and Riyo discuss tattoos in their respective cultures? Maybe while one gets a new design or a touch-up?

Fox didn’t set the Republic military standards, but he sure as heck has to exemplify them. So it’s my headcanon that he doesn’t have any tats until Riyo’s affection works on him and/or the shittiness of the rest of his life strips his uptight grain. But I like to think this still fits the bill! Thanks for the prompt : )

- - - - - 

Inked

2k. Teen. Also on Ao3.

- - - - - 

The Senate concourse never slept, but most of the Dome’s regulars had long since made for their beds when Fox spotted Senator Riyo Chuchi waiting for the Annex hovertram. She stood alone on the platform, arms wrapped snugly around herself and engrossed in the floor's marbling. The hour was far from social, but Fox had both an apology to make and thanks to offer. And there was no time like the present.

“Good evening, Senator Chuchi,” he greeted from a polite distance. Natborns, especially politicians haloed round by ego, took personal space seriously; brothers wouldn’t give both ears unless someone were right on top of them and they still might not pay any heed.

She straightened up, almost startled. But then — a diplomatic smile. “Commander Fox. Is everything alright?”

Species and biographic profiles popped across his display. Fox blinked them away.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the disturbance. I wanted to apologize for not addressing you properly the other day, when you kindly held the lift for me.” For him, the discomfited idiot, who couldn’t bring himself to enter the public turbolift he'd subversively called when faced with a mere Senate guard and a pretty woman. “And to thank you — for that, and for not giving me away to Senator Robb.”

They’d only just been formally introduced yesterday by the Security Committee Chair — and Senator Chuchi had not let on that Fox had recently broken a Dome directive. Ignorance or indulgence, it mattered little. The effect on the fresh-off-the-transport commander was the same: he was very grateful.

“Oh! Of course. You’re most welcome,” Senator Chuchi answered mechanically. Diplomatically. Stalling for understanding with a squint behind her smile.

“My database wasn’t synced to my input feeds yet,” Fox clarified. He’d been plagued by a deep need to reassure her that he took professionalism seriously. That he wasn’t chronically cavalier with protocol. “I didn’t know who you were, at first. But I’ve modded the software, so I —”

The tram approached. But it was Senator Chuchi’s blue hand on Fox's gauntlet that really stopped his thoughts short at the brainstem. She was very petite and looked about as warm as a silk petal in a breeze; but Fox’s skin prickled strangely under the plastoid.

And she wasn’t cutting him off: she was holding him in place. When the tram doors parted, she did not let go. Senator Chuchi meant to keep him with her. Closely. As no one else was around — especially as no one else was around, Fox had no argument against overstepping another rule if the Senator condoned it.

The tram was reserved for senators whatever time of day; when Dome-bound platforms were busy, and certainly when a vote was called, no mere aide, intern, attaché or privileged tourist could expect passage. The tram droid would spot you at fifty paces, bleat and wail with flashing lights, shame you into the permacrete. Clones were just supposed to walk — or, in Fox’s case, bike.

“Truly, you’re very considerate,” Senator Chuchi replied once they were onboard. “But I didn’t notice. I forget that my face doesn’t always give me away.”

It certainly gave her away as being very beautiful. Fox killed his display entirely. He even indulged the idea of removing his helmet, the better to appreciate her. But that would be quite forward: she hadn’t asked and the Guard had a lids-on policy handed down by the executive office.

Fox cocked his helmet in silent encouragement.

“Chuchi tattoos.” She touched two fingers to her cheek. “Obvious to Pantorans.”

Fox cast his mind back to cultural modules. He remembered certain trivia and understood that this was a situation which called for small talk. “I've read about Pantoran ink. Is there really aurodium in yours?” he asked in a carefully modulated voice, though there was no one to overhear.

“Yes. It’s still common practice for — among certain families. Impossible for the layman to tell, however.”

Fox mentally calculated about twenty seconds until arrival. The time begged another question. “Did it hurt?”

“The first time. But everything is unbearable to a child. They were filled out when I came of age and it wasn’t so bad.”

“Who did yours?” Fox found his questions coming as naturally as her answers. This wasn't so bad. Not at all.

“Someone my Grandmama knew. They decide these things. And they keep the rakes.”

“Rakes?”

“The tattooing tool. Usually the bone — well, it’s … it’s customary to keep an ulna and radius of one’s mother to be fashioned into rakes, and then into button hooks or hair pins once they’re worn down.”

Wasn’t the oddest natborn tradition he’d ever heard. And just the other day Stone reported that a detachment of MPs had cut their teeth over Ohma-D’un breaking up a brawl about some cursed finger of Jango’s. A few units claimed to possess one. Everyone deferred to Geonosis vets, and really, what was the harm? Well, until they came to blows over it. “Huh.”

“Do you have any?” she asked.

“Ma’am?”

“Tattoos?”

Thankfully, the hovertram was slowing into the station. It allowed Fox a transitory moment to consider why she’d care and to gather his conflicted thoughts on the subject as they disembarked.

Strictly speaking, tattoos were against regs, at least for clones. The RCMJ prohibited any bodily ornamentation that might bring discredit upon the galaxy’s preeminent military, but culturally significant tattoos and jewellery were permissible for natborns — the unspoken being that clones didn’t have a culture to claim.

“No, I don’t have any. It’s, uhh … not allowed in the Guard.” Not that Fox hadn’t seen some. Even before deployment — back before it was his problem to punish — the occasional itch to differentiate, to distinguish, had defied the longnecks’ surveillance, at least until the next quality control inspection.

Some experiments with filched hypos and med-markers had lasted longer than others. Stars and heavens help the bastards who’d inked themselves and paid for it in sweat and blood and punishment tours, only for the artistry to fade. Or for the shine to quickly wear off their youthful love of Coruscanti opera or the Galactic Senate. Or for the limb get plain blown off.

“Oh. On what grounds?” she asked.

In the main, Fox liked the RMCJ: it accorded a comforting set of guardrails, standards, and norms in a new and overwhelming operating environment. But he sensed a rebuke of the hard facts of life forming in the good Senator’s mind.

No point clouding the issue for her sensibilities; the regs only referenced what the Military Creation Act made plain in Section 3: all of clonedom, from marshal commanders to the lowest and last trooper on the production line, belonged to her federal government. Down to the dermis.

“Defacement of Republic property,” Fox offered as he followed her onto the Annex slideramp, since she hadn’t dismissed him yet.

Senator Chuchi did indeed frown up at him. “Does it really say that?”

“Yes. In the uniform code.” In a number of articles, actually — like the ones about mistreatment of service property and punishments for desertion. “There’s a certain leniency out in the field, I gather,” Fox added lightly, though privately he marvelled how any officer could sufficiently shake that feeling of a cold finger hovering behind their ear and get inked; would he even recognize himself without observational stress? “But it’d be nice to have it codified — or, err, uncodified.”

While he’d made it widely and painfully understood that facial tattoos would be burned off before they could be flagged as culturally insensitive, Fox wasn’t wholly a rule-bound, stuffed suit of armor. He was slightly more practical than purist. The Guard’s plates needed to be uniform and finer than dinnerware, sure; but so long as you were fit to fight, what happened under your blacks was between you, your sergeant, and your capacity to endure barracking.

Fox chose not to see a lot of things and liked to figure what natborns couldn’t see couldn’t hurt them.

Problem was, natborns liked to see fucking everything, especially politicians curious about how fully organic their new army was. Inspect, his shebs — bother, interrupt, and gawp at, more like. Guard Central off the Executive Thoroughfare was hardly incognito and not necessarily off-limits if you could nab some natborn logistics lieutenant with the most basic clearance.

It was only a matter of time before a guardsman got his favorite dancing girl slapped across his back in glorious color and some peeping bureaucrat kicked up a stink about a gross lack of standards in the locker room. Fox could do nothing about General Tiaan or other top brass, but at least they trumpeted a few hours before their arrival to ensure the proper pomp and ceremony — and they didn’t care about the showers.

Senator Chuchi had gone quiet as they reached the main Annex lobby. Fox’s neck dampened to think he’d lowered her spirits or given her cause to regret his company.

He also believed guilt helped no one. She didn’t seem pompous or presumptuous, just unfailingly polite. Maybe he had a chance to make a real ally. “If I may request a favor, ma’am,” he ventured, steepling his hands at his navel like he’d seen the Chancellor do when putting forth a sensitive proposition. “For my own ... err, family.”

This time Senator Chuchi arrested Fox with both hands on his gauntlets. He couldn’t have moved if Corrie’s axis pitched. “Certainly,” she said. “I like to think I’m a public servant. And not only for Pantorans.”

Fox had been primed to make a short speech about clone personhood and the need for senatorial sympathy. He was damn tired, though. And moonstruck. Enough to make him chuckle and ask instead, “If you could maybe … I don’t know, discreetly put it round that it’s gauche for politicians to drop into the barracks unexpected? The men don’t get a lot of privacy and the shower block’s the closest thing to a spiritual retreat they’ve got.”

Senator Chuchi’s bright eyes widened, his display registering a sharp increase in her pulse and temperature. “Of course. You have my word. I’ll see if can carefully address this matter of … discretion. And I’m sorry you had to ask.” Her knuckles paled as she squeezed his armor; he felt nothing but her sincerity.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Fox was so flustered, he nearly invited her to drop by his block anytime, which would’ve been the height, depth, and breadth of stupidity. Instead he said something else that was only marginally short on sense. “It’s very late. May I escort you home?”

“That’s kind of you, Commander. But my driver will be here now.” Her driver — of course: she was as rich as Koros, she possessed a smile literally finer than gold, and she wasn’t touching him anymore. Fox bowed his head low — a head that had almost outgrown his helmet in a moment of unprofessional conceit.

He had to walk back down the Thoroughfare to fetch his bike. As he did, Fox wondered what might bring him to patronize that closet in the barracks he wasn’t supposed to know about. What he’d ask for, if he ever forgot his station enough to ask. What could ever stir his heart so much, that he’d wish to mark the spot.

Hypos and hypotheticals: Fox, senior commander and paragon of the Guard, didn’t have time or liberty for either. He tried to forget all about it.

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

supreme dysfunction

A lot of the politics around the Supreme Court has a kind of soft-focus, sepia-toned Before Times deceptiveness about it. The obfuscation is as thick and persistent as it is because the situation is extremely simple. Several decades ago, Republicans realized they could not win fair and square, so they put a lot of institutional focus and an obscene amount of money into rigging the courts. Cheating is the secret sauce. I realize that’s not a satisfying explanation for years of political dysfunction, but it is what it is.

And yet here we are, six weeks from Election Day, facing the prospect of a Trump-brand replacement for the irreplaceable Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

What you need to do is keep your head for the next few weeks. If that means putting this out of your mind as soon as possible, fine. All you need to know is that anyone this criminal would nominate to the court will be a disaster and anyone who would accept a nomination under these circumstances is wildly unfit to judge a dog and pony show. Republicans really did tell loud and insulting lies all throughout 2016 about why they wouldn’t confirm the replacement for a Supreme Court justice who passed away nearly a year before an election, and they really are out here now mocking the idea that anyone might have had to pretend to believe them then. They will probably succeed in pushing through a sentient garbage fire before the election, but we have to try to make it hurt. All you need to do is call your senators and tell them to honor Justice Ginsburg’s wish by refusing to confirm anyone Trump nominates. Either you’ll hear that they’re trying to do the right thing, which might make you feel better, or you’ll get an opportunity to call a Republican a fascist pig, which always makes me feel better.

If you are going to be following this farce, out of interest or because you can’t block it out, let me help you prepare for some of the bullshit that’s coming at you.

One of the foundational assumptions commentators make is that Democrats don’t “care” about the courts in the way Republicans do. Whenever you hit that assumption, think of this article:

Hillary Clinton Just Delivered the Strongest Speech of Her Campaign—and the Media Barely Noticed

Madison, Wisconsin—Hillary Clinton delivered the strongest speech of her 2016 campaign in Wisconsin this week, and the media barely noticed.

At the time (March 31, 2016) this article was just one of the many passive-aggressive subtweets from responsible commentators that their colleagues were ignoring policy for spectacle. After 2016, when Clinton’s supposed failure to go to Wisconsin has been waved like a talisman against any retrospective concern about whether the presidential election was even free (questionable) and fair (definitely not), it’s the fact that the press ignored a campaign event in Wisconsin which gives it that twist of dramatic irony. But it is also relevant because Clinton’s speech was about why anyone who truly cares about a progressive agenda must prioritize the federal courts as an issue. Since then, the press – who were called out AT THE TIME for ignoring substance generally and this speech specifically – have settled on “Republicans have seized the federal courts because Democrats don’t talk about the courts” as their new just-so rationalization for Moscow Mitch’s latest crime against democracy.

It’s bad enough that influential commentators ignore the substance of Democratic campaigns in favor of airing Trump’s empty podium and then use their own failures as an excuse to lie about whether or not Democratic politicians talk about the courts or any other issue. But the reality is even worse: in 2016 the Democratic candidate gave a brutally prescient speech about the courts, and our blue-check betters collectively decided to lie about WHETHER SHE WAS EVEN PRESENT AT HER OWN SPEECH. Then they used that lie to derail any chance of accountability for the MULTIPLE CRIMINAL CONSPIRACIES her opponent’s campaign committed, or even the slightest hint that they probably shouldn’t have allowed an autocratic regime that regularly murders actual journalists to be their assignment editor at the most important moment of their careers. “I wouldn’t have spent four months helping Russian intelligence dox Clinton campaign employees if only they’d gone to Wisconsin!” is a thing you can say without losing an ounce of standing in the pundit-industrial complex; of course lying about Democratic campaign messaging on the justice system carries even less of a penalty.

I’m ranting a little because RBG deserved to live three hundred years and these gaslighting bootlickers deserved to be flayed alive, boiled in oil, and fed to rabid vampire squirrels. But I also think people should absorb my point about just how rotten the information environment is. There is every political incentive for Democrats not to bother talking about they courts. They do it anyway because they know it’s important.

That terrible information environment has the predictable consequence of misinforming people. Even if you are trying to encourage people to act on this issue because you sincerely care about it, you end up saying ridiculous things sometimes.

Senate Democrats could have stopped Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation by sacrificing a virgin basilisk under a harvest moon to summon the wrath of the Old Ones, but they didn’t even try!

This is, to put it kindly, rewriting history. Senate Democrats made a herculean effort against Kavanaugh. Even before Christine Blasey Ford’s and Deborah Ramirez’s stories came out, Democrats on the Senate Judiciary Committee made the best case possible for the Senate to reject his confirmation.* After Dr. Ford was outed against her wishes, Democrats used every tool they had to force as much of an investigation as they could get, which drew maximum blood from Republicans, who were always going to do the wrong thing no matter what. Because Democrats did the work, voters got the point in the 2018 midterms. The Kavanaugh spectacle kept Republicans from gaining too much ground in the Senate in a year they should have cleaned up, and it radicalized the educated suburban voters who gave Democrats an unprecedented victory in the House.

None of this worked because Senate Democrats are in the minority, but they did try everything they could possibly have done. It’s true that they did not invent time travel and go back to re-run the 2014 midterms or rewrite the laws of mathematics to make 48 more than 52, because those things are impossible.

When people do the thing you supposedly want them to do, and you respond by stubbornly insisting they never did it, you’re not motivating them to do a better job. You’re telling them they should ignore you because you don’t actually care what they do.

I’m using this tweet as an example of a problem I see a lot, but my point isn’t to dunk too hard on this rando. We’re all a little emotional right now and who amongst us has never responded to stress by being Wrong Online; more importantly, it’s not entirely this person’s fault that they’re misinformed. You’re not supposed to have to be a huge nerd that actually watches Senate committee hearings! You’re supposed to be able to rely on the news to give you a reliable idea of what’s happening!! That’s literally their job!!!

AAAArgh. Okay. I’m back.

So. Okay. There are pervasive failings in news coverage of the politics around the federal courts, which leads to a lot of silly misunderstandings in the public more generally. Even if you work your way through all that nonsense and get to a reasonable understanding, you will find a fairly persistent asymmetry. The Republican establishment really does put a wildly disproportionate amount of effort into building conservative movement infrastructure for right wing lawyers and judges, and until recently, Republican voters really were much more likely than Democratic voters to tell pollsters that they were highly motivated by judicial nominations. Taking these things on face value and saying “oh, well, Republicans care more about the courts” obscures some really important, though disturbing, underlying dynamics.

The professional and intellectual ecosystem behind the conservative legal establishment is one of those situations where you really have to apply the Trunchbull principle. There really are millions and millions of dollars pumped into think tanks which invent bizarre excuses for radical right-wing subversion of the public interest by judicial fiat, extravagant “retreats” where sitting judges are alternatively pampered and bombarded with the resulting propaganda, and clubs which indoctrinate young conservative law students and vet them for career advancement based on their fealty to right-wing dogma. Describing what the Republican establishment is doing sounds fevered, conspiratorial hyperbole. I wish it were! If you don’t want to take my word for it – and I really wouldn’t blame you – you can get a lot of gory details from Vox.com’s courts and justice editor Ian Millhiser and Senator Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI).

Senator Whitehouse’s main thesis is that these radical right-wing interests understand that a hostile takeover of the federal judiciary is in their financial interests, and that’s definitely sufficient to explain it. My personal sense is that there’s a second, even more unsettling, dimension to this. Article III of the Constitution deliberately insulates the federal judiciary from political pressure as much as possible. Another way of saying that, of course, is that the federal judiciary is removed from democratic accountability. I don’t think it’s just that the economic policies they want are unpopular. I think the investment in this judicial takeover project is motivated in part by the American right wing’s dark authoritarian streak. They value the judiciary because it’s the most leverage they can get against the electorate. “Judges!” is anti-democratic and that’s why they like it. It’s not just that they want things the voters don’t want so they have to get creative; it’s that they resent the voters for even having the ability to get in their way.

It’s not just the dedication to getting judges they agree with on the courts. It’s also the degree to which they expect those judges to humiliate themselves. They’ve had ten years and roughly the GDP of a small country at their disposal to come up with a challenge to the Affordable Care Act which did not sound like unhinged gibberish. Instead, they came up with the legal equivalent of a drunk guy trying to write a sonnet in Dothraki with a yellow crayon. (Actually that might be an improvement, so NOBODY TELL THEM ABOUT DRUNK DOTHRAKI CRAYON SONNET GUY.) It’s such a stinker that you hav to wonder if it isn’t the same phenomenon as what drives Trump and other autocrats to tell such blatant and ridiculous lies: it’s a power trip that shows off how they don’t even have to care about what “is true” or “makes sense,” because fuck you, that’s why. So what if an overwhelming majority of the American people have successfully convinced their elected representatives that health care costs were too much of a driver of economic inequality and limits on that are a good thing? We can still wreck it, because [*long fart noise*].

And if you listen to what Republicans say about the Supreme Court with that in mind, it starts to make a lot more sense. Under cover of mainstream apathy or even approval, the court gives conservatives unearned victory after unearned victory. If you’re a conservative, you’ll want to avoid killing that golden goose by making the court’s bias toward you completely undeniable. But if you’re a fascist, your priority is getting the court to commit. Any concession to truth or democracy, even if it’s just lip service, seems like a crack in the wall that your enemies can exploit, because it is.** As funny as it is to watch their little Pravda knockoff cry about John Roberts, Leftist Judas, this is what they mean: sometimes he tries to preserve the fiction that he hasn’t turned the Supreme Court into an arm of the radical right, which means they don’t win 100% of what they want immediately. Even Neil Gorsuch – hack, sadist, full-time Mayor Wilkins impersonator – can actually be cajoled into doing the right thing occasionally by lawyers who can craft an argument that fits into his crimped, cherry-picked definition of logic.

Like I said. Dark. I don’t want to overwhelm and discourage you. I think their absolutism and desperation is because even they know the victories they’ve won can slip away fast. But deluding ourselves hasn’t been constructive.

For their part, rank-and-file Republicans say they care about the courts. Fine. Republicans say a lot of things. They don’t think saying true things is important; if they did, they wouldn’t be Trump voters. Years before Trump, Republican voters learned how to give reporters and pollsters certain buzzwords to make their worst views sound more palatable. People are starting to grasp this with the “pro-life” white evangelicals who say they care about abortion on religious grounds. They support Trump as strongly as ever, despite the babies in cages, forced hysterectomies, and hundreds of thousands of COVID-19 deaths proving that neither he nor his party are in any way “pro-life.” It’s because “abortion” is the way they can get away with saying they support white patriarchy. Trump isn’t their guy despite his sleaziness, it’s because “grab ‘em by the pussy” has always been their actual preferred policy. “Law and order” is their dogwhistle for anti-Black racism. “Immigration” is the world they use when they mean they want more racism generally; pre-Obama, the preferred code phrase was “national security” but we’ve all seen how much of a shit they give about that.

As code words go, “judges” is less direct. Some commentators who try to parse it say it’s really about Roe v. Wade, but as we just went over, they don’t actually give a shit about that either. For some of them, “judges” is a sufficiently abstract rationalization for supporting Republicans when they know it is morally indefensible. This was probably a more pronounced issue than usual in 2016, both because it was so much harder to defend a vote for Trump and because of his inconvenient habit of giving the game away on the usual shibboleths. For others, “judges” represents the same thing it does for Republican elites.

I don’t know how conscious any of this is. I’m sure plenty of them have convinced themselves of whatever rationalization they give. Because we’re pretty good at fooling ourselves, what people say in opinion polls doesn’t necessarily tell us more than what they do when they’re not being prompted by pollsters. When Justice Scalia died four years ago, you didn’t thousands of people coming out to grieve for days on end. Little kids don’t dress up on Halloween as Chief Justice Roberts. RBG didn’t inspire that devotion by being a warm and gracious soul, although by all accounts she was. Liberals and progressives developed our sincere admiration of her because of her work on the bench. That is to say, Democratic voters care a great deal about the court. We just have to get our act together and do something about it.

The bad news is that winning in November is going to be the easy part. The good news is, we are getting organized behind some reforms that have been needed for many years. It’s not just Extremely Online progressives who are pushing for this. Even cool-headed institutionalist Democrats are openly advocating radical action. Democratic leadership are unlikely to get too specific right now – and they probably shouldn’t – but if voters do our job in November, some big and important changes are on the table.

*Footnoted because it isn’t really relevant, but Senate Democrats flawlessly executed a precise and coordinated strategy against Kavanaugh. The first few members to question Kavanaugh each focused on a specific issue tailor-made to give one or two of their Republican colleagues a reason to do the right thing. Then, boom, sucker-punch, Cory Booker started releasing the embarrassing emails Republicans were abusing committee rules to hide. Then, bam, left hook, Kamala Harris tripped him up by making him try to deny having been asked for assurances on the Mueller investigation. They did a great job, which everyone forgot about when someone threw Dr. Ford to the wolves.

**This is also a big part of why conservatives feel so instinctively victimized by the existence of a “liberal media” no matter how hard the political press bends over backwards to pound both thumbs on the scale for them. A free press actually is necessary for the functioning of the whole post-Enlightenment idea that people should have some say in how they are governed. If you’re an authoritarian who genuinely does feel that might makes right, then a somewhat functioning news media does at least pose a hypothetical threat to your power and even your worldview.

[qqueenofhades]

Question for you. When you have time. And if you want. I know things are busy for you. What do you mean by end stage capitalism? Thanks.

Aha. I am sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for a while, since I’ve been busy and doing stressful things and not sure how to answer this in a way that wouldn’t immediately turn into a pages-long rant. Nothing to do with you, of course, but just because I have 800 things to say on this topic, none of them complimentary, which I’ll try to condense down briefly. Ish.

In sum, end-stage capitalism is at the root of everything that’s wrong with the world today, more or less. It’s the state of being that exists when the economic system of capitalism, i.e. the exchange of money for goods and services, has become so runaway, so unregulated, so elevated to the level of unchallengeable dogma in the Western world (especially after the Cold War and decades of hysteria about the “scourge of communism”) and so embedded on every level of the social and political fabric that it is no longer sustainable but also can’t be destroyed without taking everything else down. Nobody wants to be the actual generation that lives through the fall of capitalism, because it’s going to be cataclysmic on every level, but also… we can’t go on like this. So that’s a fun paradox. The current world order is so drastically, unimaginably, ridiculously and wildly unequal, privileging the tiny elite of the ultra-rich over the rest of the planet, because of hypercapitalism. This really got going in the early 1980s when Ronald Reagan, still generally worshiped as a political hero on both the left and right sides of the American political establishment (even liberals tiptoe around criticizing Saint Ronnie), set into motion a program of slashing business and environment regulations, reducing or eliminating taxes on the super wealthy, and introducing the concept of “trickle-down” or “supply-side” economics. In short, the principle holds that if you make it as easy as possible for rich people to become EVEN MORE RICH, and remove all irksome regulations or restrictions on the Church of the Free Market, they will benevolently redistribute this largess to the little people. To say the very least, this….does not happen. Ever.

Since the 1980s, in short, we have had thirty years of unrestricted, runaway capitalism that eventually propelled us into the financial crisis of 2008, after multiple smaller crises, where the full extent of this philosophy became apparent…. and nobody really did anything about it. You can google statistics about how the price of everything has skyrocketed since about the 1970s, when you could put yourself through college on one part-time job, graduate with no student debt, and be assured of a job for the next 30 years, and how baby boomers (who are responsible for wrecking the economy) insist that millennials are “just lazy” or “killing [insert x industry]”. This is because we have NO GODDAMN MONEY, graduate thousands or hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt (if we can even afford college in the first place), are lucky if we find a job that pays us more than $10 an hour, and often have to string together several part-time and frangible jobs that offer absolutely nothing in the way of security, benefits, or long-term saving potential. This is why millennials at large don’t have kids, buy houses, or have any savings (or any of the traditional “adult” milestones). We just don’t have the money for it.

Even more, capitalism has taken over our mindsets to the point where it is, as I said, at the root of everything that’s wrong with the world. Climate change? Won’t be fixed because the ruling classes are making money from the current system, and if you really want to give yourself an aneurysm, google the profiteers who can’t wait for the environment/society to collapse because they’ll make MORE money off it. This is known as “disaster capitalism” and is what the US has done to other countries for decades. (I also recommend The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein.) This obviously directly contributes to the War on Terror, the current global instability, the reason Dick Cheney, Halliburton, Blackwater, and other private-security contractors made a mint from blowing up Iraq and paying themselves to rebuild it, and then the resultant rise of al-Qaeda, ISIS, and other extremist reactionary groups. The bombing produces (often brown and Muslim) refugees and immigrants, Western countries won’t take them in, right-wing politicians make hay out of Threats To Our Way of Life ™, and the circle goes on. Gun control? Can’t happen because a) American white supremacy is too deeply tied to its paranoid right to have as many guns as it wants and to destroy the Other at any time, and b) the NRA pays senators by the gigabucks to make sure it doesn’t. (And we all know what an absolute goddamn CLUSTERFUCK the topic of big money and American politics is in the first place. It’s just… a nightmare in every direction.)

Meanwhile, end-stage capitalism has also systematically assigned value to society and to individuals depending entirely on their prospects for monetization. Someone who can’t work, or who doesn’t work the “right” job, is thus assigned less value as a human (see all the right-wing screaming about people who “don’t deserve” to have any kind of social and financial assistance or subsidized food and medicine if they won’t “help themselves”). This is how we get to situations where we have the ads that I kept seeing in London the other month: apps where you could share your leftover food, or rent out your own car, or collectively rent an apartment, or whatever else. Because apparently if you live in London in 2019, there is no expectation that you will be able to have your own food, car, or apartment. You have to crowdsource it. (See also: people having to beg strangers on the internet for money for food or medical bills, and strangers on the internet doing more to help that person than the whole system and/or the person’s employment or living situation.) There is nothing inherently wrong with capitalism as an economic theory. Exchanging money for goods and services is understandable and it works. But when it has run out of control to this degree, when the people who suffer the most under it fiercely defend it (see the working-class white people absolutely convinced that the reason for their problems is Those Damn Job Stealing Immigrants), when it only works for the interests of a few uber-privileged few and is actively killing everyone else… yeah.

Let’s put it this way. You will likely have heard of the two fatal crashes of Boeing 737 Max airplanes in recent months: the Lion Air crash in October 2018 and the Ethiopian Airlines crash in March 2019. Together, they killed 346 people. After these crashes, it turned out that the same malfunctioning system was responsible for both, and that Boeing had known of the problem before the Max went on the market. But because they needed to make (even more) money and compete with their rivals, Airbus, they had sent the planes ahead anyway, with unclear and confusing instruction to pilots about how to deal with it, and generally not acknowledging the problem and insisting (as they still do) that the plane was safe, even though it’s been grounded worldwide since March. There are also concerns that the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) is too deep in Boeing’s pocket to provide an impartial ruling (and America was the last country to ground the plane), and other countries’ aviation safety bodies have announced that they aren’t just going to take the FAA’s word for it whenever they decide that the Max is safe. This almost never happens, since usually international regulatory bodies, especially in aviation, will accept each other’s standards. But because of Boeing’s need for Even More Money, they put a plane on the market and into commercial passenger service that they knew had problems, and the FAA essentially let them do that and isn’t entirely trusted to ensure that they won’t do it again. Because…. value for the shareholders. Or something. This is the extreme example of what I mean when I say that end-stage capitalism is actively killing people.

It is also doing so on longer-term and more pernicious everyday levels. See above where people can’t afford their basic expenses even on several jobs, see the insulin price-gouging in the US (and the big pharma efforts in general to make drugs and healthcare as expensive as possible), see the way any kind of welfare or social assistance is framed as “lazy” or “bad” or “socialist,” see the way that people are basically only allowed to survive if they can pay for it, and the way that circle is becoming smaller and smaller. The American public is also fed enduring folk “wisdom” about “money doesn’t buy happiness,” the belief that poverty serves to build character or as an example of virtue, or so on, to make them feel proud of being poor/deprived/that they’re doing a good thing by actively supporting this system that is responsible for their own suffering. And yet for example, the Nordic countries (while obviously having other problems of their own) maintain the Scandinavian welfare model, which pays for college and healthcare, provides for individual stipends/basic income, allows generous leave for parenthood, emphasises a unionised workplace, and otherwise prescribes a mix of capitalism, social democracy, and social mobility. All the Nordic countries rank highly for human development, overall happiness, and other measurements of social success. But especially in America, any suggestion of “socialism” is treated like heresy, and unions are a dirty word. That is changing, but…slowly.

In short: the economic overlords have never done anything to give power, money, or anything at all to the working class without being repeatedly and explicitly forced, they have no good will or desire to treat the poor like humans (see: Amazon) or anything at all that doesn’t increase their already incomprehensible profit margins. The pursuit of more money that cannot possibly be spent in one human lifetime, that is accumulated, used to make laws for itself, and never paid in taxes to fund improvements or services for everyone else, lies at the root of pretty much every problem you can name in the world right now, is deeply, deeply evil, and I do not use that word lightly.

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Bite (Part One)

Summary: Peter’s team is invited onto a big case in which their involvement will have serious consequences.

Word Count: 4,529

A/N: The summary is vague and doesn’t include the request, because the request itself would give away the ending. This fic was supposed to be a oneshot, but the plot was largely left up to me and I had an idea I thought was fantastic. I didn’t realize it was going to become so long. I think this is part one of three. Anyway... enjoy?

           “Yikes,” you said with a level tone. “Always wear a hard hat, I guess.”

           Ruiz glared at you. “You think this is funny?”

           “Calm down,” Hughes raised his voice to talk over Ruiz and he gave you a hard stare that said not to aggravate the visiting agents. You put your hands up innocently. It wasn’t your fault that Ruiz had such pressable buttons.

           Ruiz glared back at Hughes for all of half a second before he realized he wasn’t going to win that fight, and he used his clicker to make the projector move to the next slide. The crime scene photo went away and was replaced with a candid photograph of a white man in a snug polo with shades over his eyes, hair gelled back.

           “Look, the culprit is Caffrey’s dress sense,” Diana snickered. She earned grins from yourself and Jones and Neal scowled at her from the other side of the table.

           “I resent that.”

           “All of you, shut up,” Hughes commanded, a vein in his forehead looking particularly pink. Everyone from the white collar unit listened and the unit chief gave an aggravated wave of his wrist towards Ruiz, whose agents were all looking either plainly amused or secretly amused and trying to hide it. Neal had always gotten under Eric’s skin, and so did everyone who took Neal’s side by extension. It was funny to see how bent out of shape he could get in such a short time.

           Ruiz clenched his jaw and it looked like he ground his teeth while getting his temper under control. “Seamus Brady,” he said angrily. You still weren’t sure if he was morally outraged by the suspected murderer, or if he was just still being fussy about being ordered to invite Peter and his team onto the case. “43, American, with friends in Ireland and Wales. This bastard works hand-in-hand with suspects on Wall Street we haven’t been able to bag yet, managing a private company and swindling his investors.” He fixed his eyes on you and glared. “Henry Wallace was goin’ to take him to court next month before he ended up with his head bashed in.”

           You just looked back at him. Working in law enforcement, you saw a lot of people do really awful things, and if you let every violent crime get you down, you’d never have been able to do your job for this long. You weren’t going to feel bad for not breaking into tears instead of quipping during the uncomfortable silence following the completely context-free reveal of ugly CSI pictures.

           “You think Brady took Wallace out of the picture because he knew he was going to go down for it,” Peter urged Ruiz to continue, and, because they rarely saw eye-to-eye, Ruiz sent him a disgruntled look before resuming.

           “I’m damn sure of it. Now that Wallace is gone, there’s no one to press charges. Problem is, Brady has got near a dozen people corroborating his alibi for the night this happened, but does that look like an accident to you?”

           “Have you considered he didn’t do it?” Diana asked seriously. “Some people are really unlikeable. It can make a lot of enemies.” You got the distinct impression that she was referring to the number of people in the room who wouldn’t mind popping Ruiz in the jaw once or twice.

           Ruiz glared at her next. The guy needed to loosen up. “I’d consider it if it was worth the time,” he said shortly. “Everyone supporting his alibi’s suspected of getting cuts of his profits.”

           “Ah, the old “you knock mine, I’ll knock yours” method.” Neal nodded with his nose wrinkled in distaste. It was an increasingly commonly-known way of getting alibis to discount a motive, but mostly, the artist had never thought highly of violence, or anyone who resorted to it.

           “Looks like,” Ruiz grudgingly acknowledged. “But instead of waiting for the turnabout, we want to lock this monster up before more bodies start dropping dead in Queens. I’ve already talked to him, so I want your boy to go undercover, Burke.”

           No one commented on the way he referred to Neal. Infantilizing and deriding were pretty much the norm when it came to Ruiz’s interactions with the ex-con, no matter how civil Neal tried to be, and now everyone had stopped batting an eye because it would only fire him up more if you did. Neal certainly didn’t appreciate it, though, and neither did Peter.

           “You just showed us all a picture of the last guy who threatened him,” Peter objected, pointing up at the projection screen. “I can’t send Neal into that without a good plan in place.”

           “I’d prefer you didn’t at all,” Neal interjected dully, looking very aware of the fact that his vote didn’t really count.

           “We got a plan,” Ruiz told Peter, his nostrils flaring from the quick and negative response. “You think your team’s the only one that does any field work? Nah, Burke.” You and Diana both looked at each other at the same time, wondering if Ruiz had intended to rhyme or not. The organized crime agent clicked his remote and the projector went to the next image – some fancy-shmancy residence for the rich you’d never be able to afford to spend a night in, much less live indefinitely. “Every other week these dirtbags get together. It’s probably where we got the best chance of getting something incriminating on them.”

           “So you want Neal to somehow get invited into that high-as-heaven loft and wear a wire,” you predicted, finishing the plan for Ruiz and crossing your arms. Neal mirrored you, also crossing his arms, going off of your tone of voice to figure out that you didn’t like the plan and deciding to lend his support to anyone interested in keeping him out of it. “That’s a long-term op. They have to build rapport before anything happens.”

           “Unless we apply some pressure,” Peter theorized, and immediately, Neal uncrossed his arms and looked at his partner, wounded, as though he were thinking how dare you get on board with this?

           “Let’s be careful where we go applying pressure,” Neal requested pointedly, “Because pressure can be deadly. Especially for me.”

           “It’s good-cop, bad-cop,” Ruiz puffed, putting a hand on his belt. “A crook goes in looking for a legit, high-profile, high-payoff job and a fed makes it seem like the bureau’s gonna get our guy unless he moves faster than we can,” Ruiz finished, ignoring your interruption. “Guy knows the crook’s history, knows he’ll take a risk for a heftier profit, knows he’s got the skill to do it. He takes the chance, except the crook’s on our side, tapped and live.”

           “We’ve done some really similar ones,” you said thoughtfully, recalling a particular case where Neal had gotten himself hired as a political fixer while Peter filled the role of an obstinate, dogged cop. The pressure Peter put on the dirty politician led the man straight to Neal, who, under an alias, pushed things in the right direction. It hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but it had ultimately worked out.

            “It’s this or the guy walks.” Ruiz looked at Peter and almost dared him to disagree. The man had a very aggressive way of cooperating with other agents and you were tempted to ask if he’d ever considered being less of a hardass. Maybe people would like him more. “Chatter says he’s gonna be takin’ a trip out of New York in the next couple months. We don’t try now, we may never get this chance again.”

           Peter didn’t answer right away, looking at the loft on the projector screen and thinking deeply. As you had remembered, the last time this scheme had been used, it almost ended poorly – if Diana weren’t so quick with her gun, she may have been badly injured. However, there was probably not any chance of things going as unexpectedly off the rails as they had that time, and since Neal would be wearing a live transmitter, he could use a safe phrase the moment an attitude shifted the wrong direction. If he had to call it, then the bureau would probably lose the case; Brady would clam up and leave the jurisdiction, if he had any brain cells to rub together. It was unacceptable to let Neal be harmed for the sake of a ploy that may or may not work, so Ruiz was banking on Brady not being quick to anger or turn to violence. It was a brave gamble, considering his entire basis for being so pushy was that someone was already dead.

           “Say I agree,” Peter said slowly, and Ruiz made the hand against his belt into a frustrated fist. “Neal goes under first, gets to know the guy, see his baseline. Then we introduce a federal agent. If he gets agitated, Neal can spot the difference and get out.”

           Ruiz said briskly, “Yeah, duh, if he doesn’t think Caffrey’s an option there’s no point in sending an agent in.”

           “Who plays the agent?” Neal piped up again. “Because I vote it’s not you.”

           “Can’t be you, Ruiz,” you agreed, having Neal’s back. You tended to agree because he was a good strategist. It had nothing to do with a personal dislike for your fellow agent. Nothing at all. “If he’s already seen you, it’s too risky, he might think something’s up.”

           “But if it were a different agent, from a different division…” Jones trailed off and held a hand out like he was saying it could work.

           You nodded, and you, Jones, Diana, and Neal all looked to Peter. Your team leader was often very diplomatic about the choices he made in how to pursue cases, and this was no different. He saw you all seemed prepared to plan the operation, and gave Neal an extra look to make sure that his CI wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. Then the senior agent looked to Ruiz, and Hughes, and nodded assent with a tired sigh.

           “Alright,” Madeline, one of Ruiz’s agents, said, making a note on her laptop. “Burke is the bad cop.”

           “Or is it good cop?” You asked thoughtfully. If the fed in the plan were trying very hard to arrest an embezzler, then wasn’t the cop actually doing his job?

           “Not to Brady,” Neal told you, shaking his head. “Bad cop. Good criminal.”

           “No such thing,” Peter corrected right away.

           Neal pretended not to hear him. “Who’s the good criminal?” He asked, leaning in. “Rydell’s probably burned after last time.”

           “Nick’s got a history with math and money,” you suggested.

           “Nicholas Halden?” Madeline asked, trying to keep up. You kept Neal’s aliases pretty close to the vest for his own safety, but a little bit of word occasionally got around. Offhandedly, you questioned why Ruiz’s agents had been so quiet during the meeting. Maybe they were more afraid of their boss.

           Neal gave a full smile. It wasn’t the real thing – you knew the difference – but it was still an attractive smile, all confident and charismatic. “I think Nick has the time free to fit this into his calendar.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           You definitely had to give the bureau credit – they could move fast when they wanted to. Nicholas Halden was a ghost most of the time, but the FBI, combined with some work in the shadows on occasion from Neal and Mozzie, kept the man alive through talk and false documents.

           “You’re a lucky man, Nick,” you called as you waved the file over your head, walking over to Neal’s desk and joining him as he readied for his first meeting with Brady. “Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic in the same three months.”

           “What can I say, I have a taste for the Caribbean,” Neal responded with a playful grin. He reached up and took the file from you, then started flipping through it to see what had been added since the last time he took the identity out for a spin.

           You sat down on the edge of his desk and picked up the papers he had been studying. He was intently looking at the most recent public reports on Brady’s company’s finances. A little bit of job research went a long way, no matter who you were applying to. While putting the papers back down on the desk, you caught Neal looking up at you instead of reading Nick’s file and you flashed him a little smile, rolling your shoulders back and sitting straight.

           “Happy with the edits?” You asked, not that you could change them if he wasn’t.

           Neal kept his eyes on you while he answered, “I’m just thinking how lonely it is Nick doesn’t have a partner.” Your heart felt like it skipped a beat and Neal added on, “Nick and Y/N sound good, don’t they?”

           You knew there was a blush on your face but you refused to let an expression of interest go by unrequited, even if he could clearly see the redness in your cheeks. “I can think of a pair that sound just a little better,” you said to him, not looking away from his eyes until you were done talking. Neal and Y/N…

           “I like those,” he said evenly, his face open and sweet. “Y/N-“

           “Neal!” Peter snapped his fingers and both of you jumped a little. You leaned back and wondered exactly when you had started leaning forward. Your boss was standing on the mezzanine, looking exasperated. “What, is your phone dead? Hurry up!” He turned and went back into his office, but his coat was on and so was his holster, so you knew he would be coming out in seconds.

           You cursed his timing, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. When you and Neal turned back to each other, the moment was gone, and although the mood was still there, it wasn’t the time or place to try to bring the magic back.

           Neal saw the frustration on your face and touched your knee gently. “Later,” he said, standing up. He took out his wallet and started swapping out his ID cards for those of Nick Halden that had been included in the folder.

           “I’m going to hold you to that,” you told him wistfully.

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Diana drew van duty with Peter and Madeline, leaving you in the office with Jones while the rest of your team was in the field. No matter how often it happened, you never got used to the itchy feeling in your legs of sitting around when your teammates were being shot at, for all you knew. (Though you could be reasonably sure they weren’t.)

           It took about half an hour longer than you had expected it to, but it was impossible to tell until you got the call whether that was a good or a bad thing. Sometimes things took longer when there was a better opportunity than expected for building rapport, or even going straight to the throat, so you didn’t get too flustered. Peter eventually called, said that the op had gone well and Neal did good, and that since it was already later in the evening than planned, he, Neal, and Diana were going to head back to their respective houses and work from home. They would relate the details of the afternoon the next day. He invited you and Jones to do the same.

           Jones, who had a girlfriend in his life, took the advantage of an early leave, but you stayed in the office and caught yourself looking at Neal’s empty desk more than a couple of times. No matter how much you had observed it already, it still surprised you just how much you missed Neal when he was gone. The thief felt like a more necessary part of the office than the chairs or the lights or the cheap and gross office coffee, which really sucked because one day he wasn’t going to be here. Whatever he chose to do after the anklet came off, he wasn’t eligible to be an FBI agent – his days in the office were numbered, no matter how well his work-release went. And it was going to be really hard adjusting to work without him.

           “Good thing that’s still a long time away,” you told yourself, leaning back into your chair and letting out a long sigh. Still, it wasn’t the best thing in the world that your thoughts kept drifting back to him when you should have been working. You blamed it on the warmth in your knee, where it felt like his hand was still touching you. His gaze caressing your face. Voice soft and words just for you.

           Yeah. You had it bad.

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Peter briefed you all in the conference room the next morning, alongside Ruiz, Madeline, and the other two agents Ruiz had picked for the collaboration, whose names you learned were Matt and Damien. Nick’s interview with Brady went exceptionally well. From what Neal could tell, he was the most qualified applicant and Brady had been particularly interested when he’d been deflecting questions about the hedge fund he had briefly worked for. (Said hedge fund had been part of an older case in which Neal pretended to be a corporate spy and almost got killed for it.)

           Now that Neal was in your mark’s good graces, you had to take the biggest gamble of all and decide how long was long enough to wait before sending Peter in to make Brady jumpy. It was a balancing act of factors. On one hand, a greater time gap made Brady’s introductions to Neal and Peter appear less connected and gave him more time to reach out to Neal to build a stronger rapport, increasing the odds of him going to Neal when Peter started waving the hammer over his head. On the other, if you waited too long, then the risks increased that Brady would look too deeply into Neal’s cover. There were a lot of ways that it could fall apart – he could find out that the manager of that hedge fund was now in a federal prison; he could do a reverse image search of Nick’s face and come up with Neal’s pictures from when the FBI had him on their website; he could try to talk to shadowy contacts and realize that very few people had actually seen Nick in person over the last six or so years.

           “I haven’t heard anything from him,” Neal announced, but his posture was relaxed. It had been less than a day. “Give him time to come to me. I say if he doesn’t do it on his own by Monday, then we go in.”

           “How quickly does he make his decisions?” Peter asked, looking to Ruiz instead of Neal, even though only one of them had a friendly relationship with the man in question.

           Ruiz curled his lip. “Can’t say. It’s hard to find any intel on this guy. He covers his tracks.”

           Before Peter could say anything, you were already guessing his priorities. “On it, boss,” you promised, opening up your laptop. Digging up information on slimy businessmen was one of your favorite ways to spend your work day, just on the off chance that something particularly scandalous came up that you could use against them.

           “Get Diana to help you,” he said, pointing at Diana as the other female agent let out a soft sigh of complaint before taking her own computer out of its bag. “Di-“

           “I get it,” she cut him off. “I already got my excitement. Out of the van with me.” She smirked slightly as she said it.

           “And into the van with me,” Jones dryly said. It was no secret that the only person who hated the van more than Jones was Neal. “Yippee.”

           Peter frowned at both Diana and Jones in turn before continuing with the conference. When you all came out of it twenty minutes later, there wasn’t much new on your docket. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop everything and only pursue one person when there were so many other cases waiting to be investigated. It wasn’t to the point that this one was prioritized highly enough that Peter and Ruiz could justify having almost ten agents working on nothing else.

           What you did have was the decision that, if Brady hadn’t reached out to Neal by Monday, then Peter would go in on Tuesday; if he had, then you would re-evaluate the following workday. In the meantime, Neal was to keep his head down and minimize his chances of being seen in public as much as possible while you and Diana were to continue trying to find any more background information on Seamus Brady.

           While you worked on both the Brady case and your other cases, you tried to catch spare time to fulfill the promise of talking later with Neal, but the opportunity was just out of reach. You were busy when he wasn’t and vice versa, and because of how deep he was in the undercover portion of the operation, he was spending his lunches with either Peter or Ruiz, being debriefed and making statements. By the time the end of the day was near, everyone on Peter’s team was just tired, and between your irritable temperament when you were tired and Neal’s tendency to be more guarded when he was stressed, you had both seemed to agree that it was better not to touch the subject yet. The weekend was especially needed for recuperating after the work days, and since Neal was being holed up safely away from any risk of sighting or scrutiny, you knew you shouldn’t be heading over to his penthouse during the case, anyway. It was disappointing, but the bottom line was that your “later” didn’t come that week.

           Although you had Neal weighing on your mind, your weekend was pretty relaxing. You grabbed a couple of naps, started reading a new book, and walked your neighbor’s dog for a little bit of exercise and homemade lasagna. By Monday morning, you were ready to go back to work and deal with whatever had happened since Friday.

           It turned out that there were no new developments. Honestly, it wasn’t shocking. Working for the FBI was rarely as glamorous as people tended to think. Neal reported no contact from Brady, and so Ruiz and Peter began working up a tweaked profile of Peter’s work history in order to suit the purpose of his role in the con (no, not con, operation. Peter was very picky about that). That was going to occur Tuesday, right before lunch, and it would be a quick in-and-out of attempted police intimidation.

           Then they turned the attention back to Brady, who he was and what he had done, and you and Diana had a lot of small things to report but no major discoveries. It was like Brady had suddenly come into being nine years ago, which made you suspect that it was probably a stolen identity, but you had exhausted all possible avenues for finding out who he had been before then. According to Neal, he spoke like an American, but you couldn’t find a social security number and now you weren’t totally sure that he wasn’t undocumented, which only made the situation messier.

           That conference lasted until eleven, and just as it ended, you met Neal’s eyes as you both stood up. He gave you a small smile, almost like he was inviting your attention, and you made an equally small gesture with your hand towards the door, asking him if he wanted to leave with you, maybe get lunch together. He had just started to nod when Peter brought his hand down on his shoulder, not noticing that he was interrupting.

           “You, me, my office,” he said. You looked down – you couldn’t fight the boss over Neal’s time when you were both on the clock.

           “You know,” Neal said, sounding a little stiff. It was gratifying to know that he didn’t like it much, either. It had been almost a week since the incident that wasn’t really any sort of incident at all, but possibly could have become one. “Sometimes humans eat lunch at this time of day.”

           “The Domino’s menu is downloaded to my computer,” Peter replied, missing the point and shepherding Neal out of the conference room.

           The artist caught your eye as he went past and grimaced. You nodded sympathetically, understanding.

           And your time still didn’t come at all on Monday, with Peter insisting on triple-checking everything he and Neal had related to each other about Brady, what he might be doing, and how best to get under his skin. You knew the case was important, but damn. At five in the evening, Peter clocked out (not really – you didn’t work on time cards). You knew that El made Peter come home on time with Neal and had them both sit down and eat a full meal every Monday, so you didn’t even bother hoping that Peter was leaving alone. You left not long after.

           Tuesday morning wasn’t your friend. Traffic made your commute to work particularly slow and you got there a few minutes later than you would have liked. Another case task force conference drilled everything into your head until you could’ve recited it in your sleep, and then Ruiz, Matt, Peter, and Neal all left for the next stage of the scheme. You really weren’t sure why Neal needed to go, but at this point, it was probably your irritation talking, not the thorough agent you worked hard to be. When they all returned, both bosses gathered their respective underlings into the same conference room for another update which lasted through the lunch break, and since your entire morning had been spent on one case, you were then told to spend your afternoon and early evening working on the rest of your caseloads to compensate.

           You wanted to strangle Peter. You didn’t meddle in his marriage. In fact, you supported his marriage and sometimes offered advice on presents or gestures for Elizabeth, and this was how he repaid you? By making it his life’s mission to ensure that you never, ever got any private time with Neal ever again, right after it finally seemed like the playful workplace flirting was going to result in something more meaningful?

           With enough hurrying, you managed to power through a good half-day’s effort with about ten minutes left before five. You took another look at the clock on your computer, relieved you made it. Ten minutes was enough for a conversation. Ten minutes was –

           You looked up to see if Neal was done, and he wasn’t even at his desk. After looking around for him with exasperation, you spotted him up in Peter’s office. You couldn’t see the thief’s face, but you could see Peter’s, and the seriousness of his expression made you want to throw your hands up in the air. You knew that look. It was the serious breakthrough look.

           Brady had been intimidated into contacting Neal.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

A/N: Remember, there is at least one more part to this story and possibly two, so keep your eyes peeled!

If you like my writing and would be interested in skipping the request queue, please consider checking out the details of my Ko-Fi commissions here or go straight to my Ko-Fi page here. Imagines are $1, oneshots start at $4, and a story of this length would be just about $8.

[ax100]

Ax’s Promare headcanons - Post-World Blaze (pt2)

Hello I’m back again with more headcanons! I decided to go for post-World Blaze stuff first instead of my write-ups on the city-states. Fair warning, this part is particularly word vomit-y, because this is the murkiest part of the timeline to me. Mfffhhh sorry;;;;

Anyway! If you are unfamiliar with this, I’m doing a series of posts on my Promare headcanons! They’re long and rambly and not that well-written because this is me just trying to figure my way through the first 5 minutes of the movie lel. This is post #3 and you can find the first two here: Pre-World Blaze Post-World Blaze (the first 10 years)

Enjoy!

HISTORICAL CONTEXT (POST-WORLD BLAZE: YEARS 11-20, LOOSENING GRUDGES)

At this point in time, the world was still shaky in its stability, but it was getting there. The International Counter-Terrorism Federation (ICTF) was there to protect people from Mad Burnish, so citizens were a bit more at ease, but their hatred and paranoia still burned as strongly as ever. The widely-held belief of the Burnish condition was that it either manifested in those who were evil, or it made you evil, like an insidious virus. Once you got it, it was all over. Being Burnish meant being destructive and hurting people. Never mind that you were a good person before it; it would only be a matter of time before you were itching to set things on fire. The world could not and would not risk another Blaze. Those who manifested were handed over to the police, where they would continue to be carted off to research facilities with their limbs bound in Freeze Rings. Those who were proven to have hidden knowledge of Burnish from the authorities were arrested as well, on grounds that they put public safety at risk. The more extreme citizens thought they’d do the world a favor and off any Burnish that manifested before they could get a handle on their powers—there were definitely vigilante justice groups who thought they were doing the right thing. Some of them did it for retribution. Others did it for the misguided sentiment that it would keep the world, as a whole, safe. In the eyes of the eyes of the law, however, it was still considered a crime; not because it went against human rights, but because civilians acting without proper training is still considered a threat to public safety. Leave it up to the professionals, they said, we’ll handle it.

It had been noted even before the Blaze that the condition seemed to manifest in times of great emotional distress—more often than not, when one was feeling anger, frustration, anguish, and other negative emotions. It was a very much incomplete hypothesis based more on loose correlation rather than causation, but the general public ate it up. It was a simple explanation, easily digestible in the midst of all other the other theories floating about. Occam’s razor won out in the end, and a home remedy ‘preventive measure’ that came about was the repression of negative emotions. (something something conceal don’t feel let it go) One can imagine just how well the repression of negative emotions went as a preventive measure for Burnish manifestation. (Hint: bottling up emotions -> larger probability of a meltdown)

Another widely-accepted belief to prevent the manifestation of the condition was that the presence of fire ‘influenced’ people to become Burnish. It was recommended, then, that one should eliminate all fire-related paraphernalia in one’s home. Because of this, the sales for gas stoves plummeted overnight, while induction cookers flew off the shelves and proceeded to become the norm for decades to come. Many other things in people’s daily lives changed because of this belief as well.

With the systems in place to protect the public from the Burnish threat (i.e. anti-terrorism campaigns by the IATF, systematic arrests of Burnish), the continuous research efforts led by Dr. Prometh, and the ‘preventive measures’ that were being practiced by the general public, the world was finally moving on into a new era, one where everyone could forget that Burnish even existed in their daily life. With all of them under lock and key, the world could go back to the way it was.

It would be another 10 years or so before Burnish hate finally started to ease up (this is around 20 years after the Blaze). Though there would always be those who would hold fast to their beliefs, there were a growing number of people who had started to grow weary of being angry, or maybe they had just become complacent. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. No Burnish in my neighborhood, and the IATF has those Mad Burnish hooligans on the run. All is well, nothing to see here.

With the easing of old grudges came a growing movement towards peace. Enough is enough. The Blaze is over, the world is still trying to rebuild itself. The Burnish manifesting now have nothing to do with the Blaze, so they shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of their predecessors—This was the rhetoric that was gaining traction, especially with the younger generation, those born after the Blaze, those who weren’t around to see the world burn. A distinction needs to be made between Burnish and Mad Burnish, they reasoned. The Burnish who started the Blaze were victims more than instigators, pushed to the brink by a society that shunned them, didn’t we learn anything from the last time?

It was controversial, to say the least, and neither side was specific to any particular demographic. There were older ones (the ones who had been there) who supported this move towards peace, tired of living in a world of conflict. There were younger ones who decried the move, calling for accountability (by whom, Mad Burnish? The Burnish as a whole? It was something that side of the fence could never seem to agree upon).

In the midst of all the debates, the growing sentiment of forgiveness over retribution, and politicians being pressured to decide which side of the argument they fell on, it came as a shock to both the scientific community and the world as a whole that Dr. Deus Prometh, leading researcher on the Burnish condition for the past 20 years, was found dead, murdered in his own laboratory.

Yay, you made it! And so did I, because that was hard to write!! The bit about people giving up their gas stoves for IH cookers was my favorite haha. I feel like a lot of things in their daily life would have had to change, either from necessity or whatever was the widely-held belief at that time.

NEXT UP: Post-World Blaze - Years 21-present (from the POV of the movie), the rise of Promepolis and Kray Foresight

(There will be a separate post for the Burnish POV of all this, don’t worry!)

[usieldaca]

DACA: Here To Stay?

It was a warm and cloudy morning on September 5, 2017. As I woke up, all the news outlets were flooded with breaking news. DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals was rescinded by President Donald Trump. Hundreds of thousands of DACA Recipients also known as “Dreamers,” were left with confusion, uncertainty and their legal status left in limbo. As a DACA recipient myself, little did I know that this decision would be met with pushback and legal challenges would proceed. A roller coaster of emotions were set in motion for dreamers. 

DACA is a program that protects undocumented youth from deportation. This program was created by an executive order mandated by President Barack Obama on June 15, 2012. DACA recipients were brought to America at a young age and this country is the only place they know as their home. DACA enables immigrant youth to come out of the shadows, go to college and work legally. Recipients undergo background checks and other procedures by the USCIS to ensure eligibility. In order to maintain DACA status renewals are required every two years.

In January 2018 an order by U.S. District Judge William Alsup gave hope to DACA recipients as he ordered for DACA renewals to be put back in place. Nearly 690,000 dreamers, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, were safeguarded from deportation. However, The Trump Administration didn’t concede defeat. The battle to terminate DACA ensued. 

On June 18, The Supreme Court ruled to reinstate DACA as it was a violation of law to end it. According to an article titled “News Tip: Scotus’ DACA Decision Major Win For Young Immigrants, Experts Say” in the Duke Today, “efforts to end it had been arbitrary and capricious. The Trump administration’s error, the court ruled, was procedurally unsound, a kind of power grab that violated institutional norms and administrative culture by not addressing the policy consequences of changing DACA.” It was a huge victory for DACA recipients, immigrant families and everyone that supports the program. 

According to an article titled “Are DACA Students Still Safe to Stay?” dated April 25, 2017 in the New England Journal of Higher Education, from 2012 to 2016 the DACA program received approximately a million initial applications nationwide. Only 752,154 were successfully approved. 

In Nevada, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, there are 12,100 recipients as of March 31, 2020. Of those, there are 9,700 in the Las Vegas Valley. 

Some of those recipients go to school at University of Nevada, Las Vegas.

UNLV Student Juan Pablo Plascencia,  recalled that day, “Well when President Trump rescinded DACA, I didn’t get scared because I knew there was a long, legal battle going on. There are amazing people in our community who fight for us specifically Senator Dick Durbin who I think is a great man. There are a lot of amazing lawyers that see us for who we are. We’re human beings and not just a pawn to be played with when politics come around.” 

Plascencia doesn’t shy away from reality, “My mentality is pretty simple on this. I know my parents broke the law to bring me here. I was a child when I was brought here. I have no idea what happened. One day I was in Mexico. The next day I’m here in Las Vegas. It’s like time travel. That’s the way I explain it to people when they ask me but the thing is that my parents had to do something that even though it wasn’t legal, morally it makes sense.” 

Many DACA recipients grew up unaware that they were undocumented. The harsh reality of who they are came at a young age. Many wanted to start employment or travel outside of the country. 

Leslie Vazquez, University of Washington Tacoma student with DACA status recalled, “I first realized I was undocumented when I was in middle school. I actually wanted to travel to Mexico and my mom had to have a conversation with me about me not being able to leave the country.” 

Growing up unsure of what the future has in store is terrifying. President Trump’s antics fueled fear and unpredictability. 

“I felt like I couldn’t breathe and enjoy living in America. I could empathize with jewish people. I understood how they felt, be extra careful. Don’t say anything, don’t post anything. That might be used against you.” Plascencia said. “It was hard. As a history teacher, one of the things I always tell my students is to love your country. Love your country enough for when you see an issue, you want to go and fix it. I think President Trump is a hypocrite. He tells us that he’s going to treat DACA with kindness and a lot of heart. It’s a good thing for the DACA kids. He then puts his foot in our butt and files to remove DACA. Loses the court case and then he states he will file the proper paperwork to get this over. I’m sorry sir, am I just a pawn to you? Is my humanity not real? Are my efforts not good enough for you?”

Joe Biden became the U.S. President-elect earlier in November. Biden has been vocal about his support on DACA. On November 2, 2020, Biden tweeted, “Dreamers are Americans -- And it’s time we make it official.” 

Vazquez said, “I am excited to know that Biden has won the presidency and I remain hopeful that he will be able to help us ‘Dreamers.’ It's easier to believe Biden when he says he will help us gain citizenship because we’ve had four years of someone who has consistently put us down. However, I am not going to get my hopes up until action is done.”  

Although hope is not lost, it has dissipated for many DACA recipients.

“I saw who he appointed for his cabinet. He appointed the same woman that approved for family separation at the border under the Obama Administration. I just hope it’s not the same thing. Which it’s looking like it might be.” Plascencia said. “Personally, I have hope but at the same time I’m not holding my breath anymore. I’m not going to wait to live my life. I’ll do the best that I can under the system that I’m in. At the end of the day, I’m not going to beg for scraps. I’m a productive member of this society. I don’t see immigration being on top of Biden’s list. Right now we are in a pandemic and after the pandemic it’ll be the economy and after the economy we have another two year election.” 

Furthermore, Plascencia explains his thoughts on DACA, “I did what I was asked to do, I signed up for DACA. I have done everything right, I’ve never broken the law but what I want is for politicians to make this right. We passed the test. DACA is a smashing success. There are 95 percent of us that are excelling in the program. Five percent have been sent back. That’s good, this is an audition. We have to prove to the American people but at the same time I’m not begging for scraps. I don’t beg for scraps but at the same time it has to be done in a way that makes sense. DACA to me makes perfect sense. You put us young people to audition. What was the audition? Exactly what it says on the applications. I think instead of democrats and republicans promising the world to us, I’d rather see some action. I need to see some movement.”  

However, those that oppose the DACA program state that illegal immigration is being encouraged through its’ policies. According to an article titled, “Are DACA and The Dream Act Good For America?” in the Britannica ProCon, Congressman Bob Goodlatte (R-VA) said that DACA “encouraged more illegal immigration and contributed to the surge of unaccompanied minors and families seeking to enter the U.S. illegally.” In the same article, according to Karl Eschbach, PhD, “DACA will increase the undocumented population because those who don’t qualify for DACA will stay in the hopes of qualifying eventually, and more people will immigrate assuming coverage by DACA or a similar program.”

In addition, according to an article titled, “It’s Time to End DACA -- It’s Unconstitutional Unless Approved by Congress” in the Heritage, “Providing amnesty and potential citizenship to DACA recipients and other illegal immigrants before we have a secure border will only encourage even more illegal immigration, just as the 1986 amnesty in the Immigration Reform and Control Act did. That law provided citizenship to almost 3 million illegal immigrants and was supposed to solve the problem of illegal immigration. Yet within 10 years, there were another almost 6 million illegal immigrants in the U.S.

The federal government should be concentrating on enhancing immigration enforcement and border security to stem the flow of illegal immigrants into the country and reduce the number of them already in the interior of the U.S.”

As DACA continues to hang in the balance politically, recipients continue setting goals for their futures optimistically. 

“I would love to graduate with a PHd in Neurological Psychology,” Plascencia said. “I would love to go to Medical School to practice Psychology. That’s something I believe I would be really good at. Again I’m not hoping for it, I’m just waiting to make my moves. When my parents came to America they had ten dollars in their pockets. Now, I’m about to purchase my own house, I have my own car.”

Additionally Plascencia added that he is working on his third degree at UNLV. He will be graduating with his Masters in Curriculum/Instruction in Secondary Social Studies. He is a social studies and history teacher at the Las Vegas Academy Performing Arts. 

Plascencia reflects, “Education is the most powerful and important thing. I think that as a person I want to be more educated. I would love to become a citizen because I do want to vote. As a teacher it’s ironic I can’t vote but I teach my students how to.”

Vazquez is currently in the last quarter of obtaining her Bachelor’s degree in accounting at the Milgard School of Business. Vazquez and her parents own their own Mexican restaurant which has been open to the public for three years. “I hope that I will remain in the country for years to come. My ultimate dream is to get my CPA degree to help our community.”

As the uncertainty is still not over, recipients contemplate their decisions with valor. 

“As a person who has DACA, I’m pretty much at the end of my road. I could go teach at the University in Canada, I could teach in a University in England, I could go live in Spain, Germany. But instead I’m choosing to stay because this is the only country that I know about,” Plascencia said.