#Elections In Barbados | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

letorip · 5 months ago

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casual [ii]

"is it casual now? i know what you tell your friends, it's casual, if it's casual now"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you keep telling yourself it's casual, but it still manages to bother you so much when you realise nat is ducking you.

warnings: explicit sexual content, SMUT (nat recieving), drug use, alcohol consumption, mostly set up chapter, 'i love you' but in a sad way :(

word count: 7.7k

A/N: there will ALREADY BE A PART 3 FINALE ON THE WAY. amount of research i did on US schooling, US version of Windolene, and the 1996 US Presidential Election should be criminal.

***also to be clear because i know i was kind of confusing about it last time, Nat’s father is still alive, this is a no crash au, and there’s still about a week left to go to nationals, Lottie’s party is NOT the night before, for the sake of my sanity

===+++===

===+++===

Dinner that night exceeded your expectations by far, or at least in terms of awkwardness. It laced the air in thick wafts that made you shift in your chair from time to time, out of need of something to do.

"So Julie," your mother said. She raised her glass with a distinguished elegance and sipped her wine. "I heard that last year you went to the state science fair." She said it with a glance at you over the lip and dramatic overemphasis, as if she expected you to stand and applaud. “You won first place?”

You took the hint and sent Julie a smile fixed in place, and then one down to her parents at the other end. These sort of set ups went better when you appeared to give them a good try. "Oh really?"

"I did!” The smile she had worn all night widened, veneers a crisp white colour that looked like the blank walls of a dentist’s office. “It was a project on sea turtles. My dad flew us out to Barbados to work with a research team.” If Julie had said any more on her project, you could not hear it.

There was a beautiful oil painting right behind her on the wall, in a thick copper frame that glinted in the dining room light. The portrait had hung there since you were a child, but from that angle it had felt mundane. A random portrait of a random woman your father had bought on a random business trip. Now, it was impossible for you to see the soft, beautiful blues of the woman's eyes and not think of Natalie's.

Perhaps that was karma. The conversation with Nat still hung over your thoughts in an ever-present guilt, and the longer you thought about it, the less you thought you liked yourself. Not that there was much to be done about that, of course.

A silence filled the room and you looked back to Julie, who stared at you with a blank expression. You glanced around the table, only to find everyone else’s eyes on you too. Shit.

“Sorry, what was the question?” you flushed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lottie stifle a laugh, and your father’s gaze down at the other end. His disapproval was thick in his eyebrows, and you rubbed the back of your neck, sheepish.

Julie continued to beam at you, and you shifted in your seat. “I was wondering if you also liked science.”

“Oh. I don’t really love—,” before you could finish, your mom took it away, interrupting and reaching over the table to clasp Julie’s hand in her own.

“Of course! (Y/n) here is the president of Science Honours Society at Wiskayok. Don’t let the bruises fool you, (Y/n) is a giant studier and scholar.” Ah, the bruises.

Your mom had freaked the hell out when she saw you, just as you knew she would. Her immediate reaction had been to cover them with concealer, and then she had almost cried when you could still see the purple and red skin underneath.

“(Y/n)’s also a giant nerd,” Bobby said. “Know-it-all, more like,” he corrected with a laugh, leaning towards her as if trying to steal the show. You wouldn’t have stopped him, if he was. He had mentioned finding her pretty, not that she seemed to be interested in him. Your other cousin, Trent, knocked him on the side of the head, before he went back to his food.

“Robert,” your father chided, before turning to Julie and her parents himself. “(Y/n) here will be Valedictorian, at the end of the year. Academics are important to us, and I assure you, science is part of that.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mrs. Roosevelt said. “Do you know where you’re going to college yet?”

You shrugged, eyes on your plate. “Either Brown or Princeton.”

Your mom clasped her hands together, excited. “Mr. (L/n) and his mother and father, and his mother and father before him and so on, all went to and fell in love at Princeton. We donate money every year. And then, well, there’s Brown or Columbia, as options.”

“I was considering Princeton, too,” Julie said. “Of course, we have ties to Harvard as a family, but Princeton always piqued my interest.” At that, you hid what would’ve been a snort behind a cheeky smile. Nat’s ‘fuckin’ rich people,’ played back in your mind in a memory of the warm afternoon you had just spent in her bed. “We could meet at Princeton, right? Like your grandparents?”

You blinked, unable to compute the rather forward question into your brain along with the warmth you could feel spread out on your cheeks. Lottie watched you again, fork half in her mouth, amused and entertained beyond belief. But Julie Roosevelt, as nice as she was, wouldn’t be the one for you.

You cleared your throat, mustering an apologetic smile. “Um…yeah, it would be great to have other friends there.”

“Right…friends," said Julie, staring at you blankly. You didn’t need to look at her, to feel your mother’s disappointment. Bobby and Trent were staring, too. Lottie had her eyes on her food.

"So, did anyone ask Reginald what dessert tonight will be?" your father asked. He didn't look in your direction. You were grateful for it. He was usually the one to bridge the gap, and you had missed him when he was in Tokyo.

"I do believe he said it would be cheesecake," your mother replied. She turned her fork over in her salad, considerably less vibrant than before.

Trent nodded, sipping his water. "That'll be good." He turned to your father with a chuckle. "Did you hear that Buchanan's stepped down from the bid for president?" At that point you let the conversation go on around you, but were all too content to sit back and just observe.

===+++===

"(Y/N)!" a faint voice came into your bathroom. You blinked.

“Yeah?” But there was no reply. At least, not for a minute.

"(Y/N), GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"

You paused in front of the bathroom mirror. The toothbrush still hung from your mouth, and you furrowed your eyebrows, painfully so with the bruise on your eye, questioning if what you were hearing was real. It was all too early in the morning, for you to be running late.

"(Y/N), I'M NOT KIDDING AROUND, DAMMIT!" Your father yelled, and now you were sure you were awake. You furrowed your eyebrows at the anger in his voice and plugged your electric toothbrush into its holder, before sliding on your slippers and opening your door.

There was a whole bunch of commotion going on in the foyer below, and while your mom had held her tongue about Julie the night before, it didn't make sense for your father to be this angry you had turned her down, right? You ran your hand through your bedhead, in an halfhearted attempt to first xit as you still groggily came down the long set of stairs.

"What?" you asked. Your dad had his back to you, talking with Reginald, and Maribel was crying in the corner with a bottle of windex in her hands, but he spun around the moment he heard your voice.

"Don't 'what' me. Go look outside. Right now." His face was all red when he said it, like a scary tomato, and it somewhat snapped you out of your sleepy daze.

The front door was wide open, and there was a gardener who wasn't usually there until later, walking right on in with a wad of toilet paper in his hand. You blinked, then half-stumbled through your door and out onto the driveway.

Fucking hell.

Even from far away, you could smell the rotted eggs, splattered onto the windows of your house and dripping down the sides in clumps. They were everywhere, coating parts of your driveway and sitting in hedges. What was the worst was the white Rolls Royce your father had just bought, which had egg yolks covering the windshield and all along the fresh paint job from where it sat under the awning. Behind it, right on the garage door in spray-painted red letters was 'fuck you.'

Where there weren't eggs, there were reams and reams of toilet paper, strung from the red oaks and trimmed hedges. One or two rolls had unfurled down the length of your driveway entirely, reaching all the way to the end like some sort of demented breadcrumb trail for Reginald, who had apparently discovered the mess when he pulled into work and up the drive that morning.

Your father followed you out, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Do you, at all, happen to know why my lawn looks like this?" he demanded.

You swallowed. "No, I'm sorry.”

“You’re sorry? What the hell am I going to do with sorry?”

“It must just be someone from the high school pranking me." It wasn't. It didn't take a genius to make a guess, though. Nat had been pissed, but you didn’t think it would be this pissed.

"Well, whoever it was had access to our neighbourhood gate, (Y/n).” Your father pointed an angry finger at you, poking you harshly in the chest. “You didn't give the code to anyone, did you? We told you not to, unless it was approved by me or your mother."

You stared down at the ground. You were still in your slippers and silk pyjamas. "No, I promise dad, I didn't. I don't know how they got in."

His gaze was still heavy for a moment, eyes and eyebrows thick and heavy, as he scanned your face for the traces of a lie. He didn't find one, and when he didn't, he turned to Reginald, who stood in the doorway behind him, with a sigh.

"Can you pull the old Jaguar from the motor court? We'll need this cleaned up by the time I'm back for work."

Reginald nodded. "Right away, sir."

"Good," he said, and then he turned to you. "And you. I'll be changing our gate code as soon as possible. No giving it out. Your friends are lucky nothing was damaged— we'll sue no question."

"Yes sir," you said, keeping your eyes down.

"Good. Go get ready for school. Don't mention this to anyone."

"Yes sir." You couldn't get back inside fast enough, practically jogging in your slippers and up the stairs. You got about halfway up, before your mother called out to you.

"(Y/n), is that you?"

You froze, considering for a moment just going up like you hadn't heard her. You didn't get the chance though.

"Come down here."

"Yes mother." You turned back around, heading down to where she sat in the formal living room. It was closest to the door, and she must've been watching through the front window. In her left hand was a familiar bottle of wine, and she reeked of its contents. She didn't look too pleased, but with her it was more of a morning thing than the egging.

"Are you going to say good morning to me, darling?"

You nodded. "Sorry. Good morning, mother."

"There you go. Your eye still looks dreadful." Ah, the bruises.

Your mom lost her ever-loving mind when she saw you, just as you knew she would. Her immediate reaction had been to cover them with concealer, and then she had almost cried when you could still see the purple and red skin underneath and the Roosevelts would be arriving any minute.

It was a bit funny that your bloody nose was still visible, in a morbid way, but you knew better than to laugh about it in front of her, and moving your face still hurt in places. Lottie— who watched from atop the bathroom counter— laughed for the both of you instead, which earned her a shriek from your mother.

"It's going to, for the next few weeks. That's what Misty said."

She huffed. "Well, Julie was a disappointment, and we need you to get back out there, if you're going to have a date for prom. Your father and I can't have you going alone."

"I might not be going to prom," you replied, messing with the collar of your pyjama shirt. "The Yellowjackets might be going to nationals, remember? I have to go."

"Yes, well, at least get a date just in case. Everyone else in the neighbourhood will, and we can’t have you alone.”

“Lottie would also be alone.”

“Well I’m not Lottie’s parents now am I?”

“No.”

“Right, I’m not. Now, don’t cut my head off for this, but are you sure you like girls?" You glared and she waved you off. "Don't look at me like that, I just mean you're not having very much success with girls, is all. It's 1996, your father and I are very forward-thinking.”

It took all your energy not to laugh. If they wanted to believe they were forward thinking, you'd let them. The same could be said for success with girls. Instead, you shrugged. "All the girls you've picked are just so boring. There isn't a spark."

Your mother rolled her eyes. "There doesn't always have to be one. For me and your father, there wasn't. We met and then slowly worked towards a love. That instant-love stuff is for children who've seen too many Disney movies, and those soppy Democrats."

"Maybe spark was the wrong word, mother— I don't even feel a connection. They’re super ‘meh’ and stuff."

"Don’t say ‘and stuff’ you make yourself sound stupid. These girls are all from great families, (Y/n). I'm sure there are kids at your school who would love a chance to talk to Julie, or Margot or Sloane— god Sloane is in high demand. I think it's the cheerleading."

“Mother.”

“Yes— sorry. Go fix your hair, you look unkempt. And think about it. Julie wasn’t too bad, she made that joke about forks. Funny.” It hadn’t been.

“Yes mother,” you said, and you stalked away and back up the stairs without another word. You were already running late, with the whole egg thing, and you needed to figure out what you would do with your face the way it was.

===+++===

“Can we stop for coffee?” Lottie groaned, tapping her fingers along the sill of your passenger side window. “‘s so fucking early.” She was splayed out in the seat, with a backup blanket you kept in the second row thrown over her legs and cuddling up to her backpack. You scoffed, fingers on the wheel with an extra tightness.

“Hell no. We’re going to be late for the meeting.” But she just groaned again.

“I didn’t even want to be part of it. You were the jerk who made me.”

“You’re literally the treasurer. You’re on the club board.”

“And? I’m shit at french.”

“You’re shit at a lot of things.”

“And you’re shit at catching a ball with anything but your face,” she giggled.

There didn’t end up being anything you could do. Going to bed had only made the bruising worse, and your nose was a bright red while your eye sat at a deep, unnatural black colour with touches of purple on the outside. You were sure to get odd looks by anyone you passed, but you decided to just get it over with and wear it out.

At the light you turned, driving down the familiar street that led to WHS, and as soon as the coffee shop was in sight, Lottie smacked her hand onto the glass, dragging her fingers down and leaving prints.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, frowning. Lottie whipped around in her seat.

“Are you finally going to say what happened with Nat yesterday?”

You rolled your eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

She laughed. "I mean, I was going to, in the car ride home. You just didn't say a whole word the entire drive. It was freaking me out, actually. I thought you were either brain dead from Carter’s throw-in or didn’t want to talk about it.”

"Sorry," you mumbled. Lottie shook her head.

"It's fine. I'd probably stop talking for a bit too, if I found out Jackie was right about something."

"It was reality breaking," you nodded with a smile. It took until you both stopped at the light for you to muster the ability to speak again. "Nat’s upset about me potentially seeing other girls.”

"That's what I figured," said Lottie. "Soooo…what now?"

“It gets worse,” you said, shaking your head.

“Delightful.”

“I think she egged my house.”

Lottie laughed for a moment in a giant burst, but she stopped when you just held your stare on the road ahead. “Wait— are you serious???”

You nodded. “There were eggs and toilet paper everywhere. My dad was pissed.”

“Nat wouldn’t do that, though. She’s not that kind of person,” she said, shaking her head.

“Who else would it be, Lottie? She wrote a giant ‘fuck you’ on my house. She’s the only one I gave my code to.”

Lottie furrowed her eyebrows. “Why’d you give her your code?”

“…My parents and Reginald were out of town in August. So…”

“Ew,” she scrunched her nose. “Got it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll bet she’s on your dad’s shit list now.”

You frowned, remembering just how smooth her skin was against you. How she cradled your face in her hands like it was her whole world. “I didn’t tell him it was her.”

She stared at you for a moment, as if you had missed something spelt out in a bright neon sign that floated just above your head in a way you could never read it. Lottie shrugged, turning back to look out the window. “What are you going to say to her? I mean, it’s clear she wants your full attention.”

"Or that it’s over. She told me to ‘go to hell,’ Lot.”

“It’s because she cares about you. Like, a lot.” She gave you a more annoyed look, this time.

"What's the face for?" you whined.

"If Nat’s gonna be super mad at you, practice'll be awkward as hell."

"Probably," you said. "Nat asked me to go with her to your party. So, that too."

She sighed. “You just had to screw a Yellowjacket, huh?”

“Hey! I didn’t mean to.”

“It was an accident?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“No!— ugh, you know what I mean…”

“I know.” Lottie crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in the car seat. "Maybe you could explain to her? Why it wouldn't work, and all?"

"Yeah," you huffed. "I'll just tell her she's considered trailer trash, and that my uppity parents want Miss Americana, who works in foreign countries with research teams for the science fair, and is at least four tax brackets above her. That'll go over great."

"Well don't say that," she rolled her eyes. Lottie thought for a moment. "…Do you at least like Nat, though?"

You frowned. "Would it even matter if I did?"

"Maybe," said Lottie. "Maybe it would matter." You pulled your car into your parking space, then pulled your key from the ignition. WHS always looked the same. Even in old photos your parents had shown, it had the same red brick and towering trees.

"Maybe I'll try to pull her aside…" you trailed off.

"That's probably a good idea," she nodded.

“Nat said Carter got detention?” You asked it as you grabbed your backpack from the backseat, tugging it over your shoulders while Lottie did the same.

“Yeah. Suspended from the team too,” she said, and you locked your car behind you both, as you headed through the old doors. French classrooms were on the opposite side of campus, down an older hallway that had yet to be renovated. Despite having two French teachers and a whole honours club, no one knew how to speak it.

The meeting had already started by the time you both slipped in, and Lottie awkwardly snuck along the wall to get up to the front where the leadership board was standing, who were less than pleased to see her late. Jackie waved you over to a seat in the back, and Jeff sat a few roads in front with his friends. Anyone who saw you stared for a second.

“Morning,” you mumbled, sliding into your seat.

“Morning,” she whispered back. “Your face looks terrible.”

“No, really?” you snorted. “I didn’t notice.”

“Stop talking!” came a voice from the front, and you could see Sloane glaring daggers at you from the front. She was the president of the club and she hadn’t liked you much since she dedicated a whole day to a date with you and you promptly refused a second.

“Sorry,” Jackie said, raising her hand to take the blame. Sloane shook her head, but went back to reading off of her notes. The moment her head was turned, Jackie leaned back over to you. “Boy, she needs the stick pulled out from her ass, huh?”

“It’s just ‘cause she’s French,” you whispered back to her with a grin.

“Yeah, well, she’s the only one. Besides, we all know it’s because Mr. Allard watches when she bends over.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh at the thought of the creepy old guy. Jackie nudged you in the shoulder. "Why was Nat pissed off yesterday, for the last bit of practice?"

You blinked. "What?"

"She came out all upset, like she was about to cry and stuff. Did you break her heart or something?"

"I don't know," you said with a frown. "I have no idea what we are at this point. I mean, I thought we were friends—"

Jackie scoffed. "Yeah right. You guys were friends, fucking in the back of your car. Real good friends, there."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying. You definitely let her run wild with her fantasies of you."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Maybe if you're Nat. A kid who's top of the class, hot, prom court, varsity, and not a complete asshole? You're like Prince Charming. Or Mother Theresa.”

"You're kidding, right?"

"What, do you have the emotional depth of a kiddie pool? No!"

“Jackie! Stop talking!”

“Yup! Sorry.”

===+++===

Nat didn't show up to school, that day. You knew because you waited for her, right at the door to the cafeteria, down the same hall she always came through. She wasn't there. You waited for her after what would've been her Biology class, leaning on the wall and watching everyone but her file out when the bell rang. She wasn't there either.

You even waited at the back of the school, after the final bell, to see if she would appear, but all you got were weird looks from kids in band tees and a whole waft of what smelled like weed. Nat smelled like that sometimes, but she tried to cover it with perfume. You could still smell it on her, but it blended with the smell to be uniquely Nat. As silly as that was, you liked that you knew that.

From the far wall, you could see Kevyn watching you, surrounded by kids you had seen Natalie with. You didn’t know Kevyn too well, only in passing mention from Nat, or in a story. He was the reason you two couldn’t meet up sometimes, though you tried not to hold that against him.

It wasn’t a thought you were very proud of, but your fingers tightened on the straps of your leather backpack with gold plating. Any one of your friends would laugh at you for being back here, and you stood out like a white sheep in a field of sheep in black leather jackets. You didn’t know any of these kids, but you could tell they knew of you, from the glances and whispers.

It seemed Kevyn couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. He stepped forward and at least attempted to shove his hands into his jean pockets, but they seemed a bit tight on him and he gave up. “The hell are you doing out here?” he grumbled out.

“Have you seen Nat?” you asked with an awkward smile.

Kevyn’s glare sharpened. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Nice face, by the way.” So she had told him. You winced.

“Look, I really need to speak with her. It’s super important and—”

“—I don’t think you heard me. She doesn’t want to speak to you,” said Kevyn, interrupting and crossing his arms over his chest. You frowned.

“Kevyn, please…”

“I'm not telling you, country club.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Kevyn took another step forward with a challenge. “It’s what you are, isn’t it?” You could feel even more eyes on the both of you.

“I just need to find her.” It was embarrassing, how your voice shook as you said it, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“But you hurt her.”

You looked down. Air did not want to come easy. “I know. I know I did.”

Kevyn stayed silent for a while. It was the both of you just standing there while he seemed to mull over his options. He sighed. “She’s not here today. Didn’t want to come. She’ll be back tomorrow for practice.”

You nodded, raising your hands in appreciation. “Okay, thank you,” you rushed it out, getting ready to jet. The stoners still made you a bit uneasy. But before you could go he spoke up again.

“Nat’s not as tough as she acts, you know.”

You stopped, turning back to him. “What?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you. It was almost like bragging. She’s— she was actually proud of something hers, for once.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your mother would be clutching the pearls of her necklace right now, if she saw where you were. She just might’ve died, the moment she smelled the weed.

Kevyn shook his head. “Don’t hurt her again. I fuckin’ mean it.”

You swallowed, managing to fix a smile to your face. It felt very hot out, then, and you turned around to leave this time. No one stopped you, but there were kids that watched you go.

The way he said it made you feel slimy. This would not be the triumphant lovers coming back together to be as one forever. That stuff was for kids who saw too many Disney movies. Maybe, though, she would let you sit skin to skin again in the warm, even if only for a little while. And that was perfectly normal for being casual, right?

===+++===

The sun was practically beating down on you, absolutely covered in sweat within the first ten minutes of being outside. You had gone to practice early, patiently waiting by the bench and doing up your cleats. It still felt weird. Since you and Nat had started the whole arrangement, you hadn’t gone a single day without hearing from the other. It set you on edge.

By the time the rest of the two teams had filed out onto the pitch, you already were kicking the ball around with Daniel DuPont. He always played with a smile, like Laura Lee, and you wished sometimes that you did too. A kick from you sent the ball towards him, and he booted it back so you caught it with your chest.

Your eye was doing better than the day before, but still looked violet and red, and your nose was still swollen, but you would’ve had to pry soccer practice from your cold, dead hands. On Friday afternoons your mother had her wine-tasting friends over and it was impossible to be less of a fan of the event than you were.

With the ball still bouncing on the grass, you kicked it towards Daniel, and he headed it back to you. "Here," he called it. You appreciated him being extra cautious with your eye injury, but he was playing as if you were a fragile package wrapped in bubble wrap, that needed coddling. You caught the ball with your chest, letting it drop to the ground.

"Pass!" Shauna called from the other side of the field, and you booted it in her direction, waving to everyone out there that you were off to talk to people. You took a singular step towards the benches when you saw her.

Nat stood with her back to you, fiddling with the plastic lid of her cup as if it was broken. Her hair looked especially bright in the sun, like it had in her room, or when you both went to the lake. Casual arrangements went to the lake, right?

You so badly wanted to go up to her and say something. Anything, really. But your feet were rooted to the ground and you were stuck watching her get ready. When she turned around, you weren't sure if it was better or worse than when she hadn't seen you. It was a hard stare to match, when she saw you and your eyes locked, even if it only lasted for a moment. They flew to your bruise right after, and then away. She was looking right through you with practiced indifference.

"Circle up!" Coach Martinez yelled to you all, walking right on the pitch and towards the centre. "Come on , we don't have all day!" Both teams slowly made their way over, but when enough had pooled around Coach Martinez and Coach Scott, Martinez pulled up his clipboard. "We're going to do some stretches, so just kind of space out."

===+++===

You didn't say anything to Nat the entirety of practice, but it was painfully obvious that you wanted to. You knew she could see you, staring at her and spacing out as you struggled to form the words you wanted to say to her. But she made no attempt to actually let you talk to her.

When you were on the drive home, Lottie nudged your arm. “So…Nat.”

“Yeah. Nat.” Your fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “What time are you coming over for the party?”

You shrugged. “No clue, to be honest. It depends when Jackie and Jeff plan on showing up.”

Lottie groaned. “Are they going to be annoying and have a whole drunk argument again?”

“See, that’s while I’ll probably ditch them for you and Shauna,” you laughed. “Last time they tried to get me involved on ‘who was smarter.’”

“But they’re both idiots.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

You dropped Lottie off at her house and then made the small drive up to yours. It was close enough of a distance where you two were technically neighbours, but not anywhere close to one that you’d willingly walk.

The moment you got home, you parked your car under the awning and hopped out, grabbing your backpack and your duffel bag and heading inside.

“Helllooo?” you called, up from the foyer and then making a beeline from the stairs. You had to get clean and dressed for Lottie’s party, and it didn’t help that you smelled from practice and were covered in sweat. Your father had flipped out when he had seen you first sweating on the leather of your car seat, but he had given up on convincing you to put a towel down first.

When you got to the top of the stairs, a voice called back out to you. “Hello, (Y/n).”

You leaned on the bannister, and Reginald appeared at the bottom with a smile. “Hey, Reggie.”

“Your parents are going out of town tonight. I think they aim to be back on Wednesday.” You raised your eyebrows.

“Since when?” you asked. It wasn’t unusual or anything, these trips were how they stayed married. If anything, it filled you with a rush.

“Since around 4. They’ll be in Monaco tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “I’m going to a party tonight. Lottie’s.”

“You know I don’t mind,” Reginald said, tipping an imaginary hat and heading back towards the kitchen. “Just make sure you shower. You smell awful.”

“Thanks, Reggie.”

“Mhm.”

It took you about an hour to get ready, in a brand new outfit you had picked up with Lottie the weekend before. You stood by the armoire, sliding your rings onto your fingers and spritzing yourself, when your phone started vibrating in your pocket. You pulled your Motorola from your pocket, flipping it open with a groan when you saw the caller I.D. and realising what this was before you even needed to hear it.

“Yeah?”

“(Y/n),” Jackie said into the phone with the buzz of excitement in her voice. “Could you come and pick me and Jeff up for the party? I’d appreciate it, hubby.”

You laughed. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m literally next to Lottie’s house, that’s a whole bunch of driving I don’t want to do.”

“But Jeff loves your car,” she replied in a sing-song voice. “It’d make his day.”

“Nope,” you said, with a fond eye roll. “I have to help Lottie set up. I promised.”

“Terrible friend, then,” she joked. You shook your head.

“Mhm. See you when you get there, sweetie.”

“You too, hubby.”

===+++===

The party was all too much, for your liking. Rap blasted from Lottie’s speakers all across her backyard. A small fire you had started sat in the centre of it, with people standing around and drinking nearby.

On a truck someone had pulled back there, you could see Shauna leaning back against it in her jacket, and she sent you a quick wave. You wandered over, knocking your solo cups together and leaning with her.

“Not having fun?” you asked with a laugh.

“It’s definitely a party,” she replied, slinging a friendly arm around your shoulders. “Where’s Lottie?”

“This couple was having a giant fight in her kitchen, she’s calling them a ride.”

“Hm,” she hummed, looking out over the bonfire. “What about Jackie?”

“Her and Jeff ran off. I don’t even know where.” Shauna frowned. “Where’s Nat?” you asked, sending her a hopeful glance.

Shauna gave you a look. “You two are still on the outs, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Well,” she said. You followed her gaze towards the other end of the fire, against a pine tree where an old, marble bench sat. It was somewhat obscured by passing people, but you saw through a gap in the crowd and your heart dropped out of your chest.

Nat was there, in a red plaid dress that hugged her body. Thrown over it was her leather jacket that she always wore. She looked beautiful. The way you had seen her in your dreams the night before. Until you saw that next to her was Bobby Farleigh, that was.

They were talking, leaned in together with alcohol in hand, and laughing. She had asked, when you started sleeping together, who else you had been with. You vividly remembered Bobby Farleigh being on the list, when you asked her the same question. He was a creep, and it made you sick just as it made you sick now. You stood up straighter.

“Yeah,” Shauna said. “Sorry.” You shook your head. Jealousy pooled in the pit of your stomach, but was normal for being ‘casual,’ right? Either way you didn’t like it. It was like a switch flipped in you. It didn’t matter how many people saw you or if they knew your parents. You couldn’t handle this.

“See you, Shauna,” you called back over your shoulder. You stormed towards the two of them on the bench with a glare, and you saw Nat look up at you coming over, watching you intently.

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?” She said. It was loud, and with it came the turning of heads. Next to her Bobby Farleigh hopped up to his feet.

“The fuck are you doing?” it came out harsher than you expected it to, deep from within, and you put your hands on your hips.

“Why the hell do you care, all of a sudden?” She challenged back as she too got to her feet. “I find that really, really funny.”

“We’re not talking about this here,” you said. “Come on.” You grabbed her arm, pulling her along with you.

“As if I’d go anywhere with you,” Nat scoffed, but she didn’t pull her hand from your grasp. She let you lead the way, up through the house. People parted like Moses and the Red Sea, watching you go, and though you knew there would probably be gossip about this on Monday, you were past caring.

You wandered into one of Lottie’s guest bedrooms, slamming the door behind you. You spun to Nat.

“What, do you need me to get you off again?” She asked, tone dripping with anger. “Did you pull me in here because you were bored?”

You had to ignore the question. “The fuck were you doing with Bobby Farleigh?”

“See and I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Nat spat back at you. You scowled.

“Why the hell were you going to do that with him. He’s a bully and a creep,” you shot, crossing your arms.

“Y’know what, I don’t have to say anything to you. You made it perfectly fucking clear, we don’t owe each other anything.”

“It’s not even about me!”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh it’s not, huh? No, you don’t have a problem with it being Bobby Farleigh— you could give a fuck about Bobby!” She was yelling now. “You give a shit because it’s not you, and you’re a jealous asshole.”

“So what if I am?!” You yelled back.

“Then I’d say you have no fucking right to be! You do NOT for one god damn second get to be mad I’m sleeping with other people when I hear you’re playing The Newlywed Game with rich chicks.” You didn’t know what to say to that and Nat took it in stride.

“You can do a lot of fucking things, you rich, entitled asshole,” she continued. “But you can’t pretend for shit that we were just fucking around.” You clenched your jaw. “And to think,” she scoffed and you could see the edges of her eyes water, “that I used to think you were safe and good. Now I see you for what you really are— a fucking child with a silver spoon.”

In your arguing, you both had moved closer together, faces inches apart. Her lips looked so soft in the dim lighting of the bedside lamps. You swallowed. She was so close, and there was again that scent of perfume and weed. But Nat backed up, storming past you and heading for the door.

You didn’t know who closed the distance first, but your hand was on her arm, tugging her back against you, and then your lips were against hers. Her taste was so sweet, the same lip balm as always. Cherries.

You pulled her tight against you, feeling her hands go up to your hair, weaving in. You pulled away for a breath for a moment and then immediately kissed her again, this one more needy and ferocious than before you. She tugged at your scalp and your hands flew to her thighs, pulling her up against you and holding tight.

Everything felt so damn humid in there, and you slowly backed Nat onto the bed, pushing her down and crawling on top of her. You leaned down to reconnect your lips and then immediately went south, moving her blonde hair away gently with your fingers and then covering her neck in soft kisses while you tugged her dress down.

Nat let out a heady breath. “(Y/n),” she said in a huff. Your hands grabbed hers, interlocking the fingers and moving them above her head while your mouth did the work for you, sucking on a spot right under her jaw and then slowly down her neck to the exposed area that only her hair could cover from her father.

Nat’s skin was always a cool pale colour, and you pulled away briefly to see the bruises already forming along her neck. You weren’t exactly being soft, but you knew Nat could take it, and that she wanted it. She was staring at you with heavy-lidded eyes, and you silently tugged off your shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Her hands went to your pants, tugging them down, and you moved to get them out from under your legs before discarding them too. She went for your underwear next, watching you with her blue eyes as she moved, but you stopped her, catching her by the wrist and lifting it up to place a slow, gentle kiss on her open palm. You just wanted it to be Nat beneath you.

You slowly dragged your mouth up her arm while you held her gaze, leaving a trail of where it had been. Your other arm came up to cup her breast through her bra, and she let out a full on moan, face flushing pink.

You moved away from her arm and to her chest instead, nipping at her collarbone and sucking on the skin there. Her hands came up to cup your head, fingers weaving in the hair at your nape and brushing some back from your forehead as she let out another shaky breath. Your mouth trailed lower and lower, and Nat threw her head back as you continued to palm at her breasts through the fabric, her hand leaving your hair and scraping down your back with her nails. It hurt, sure, but not in a bad way. In a way that made you want her even more.

“Can I?” you asked, as she writhed beneath you. Your knee went to the space between her legs, feeling her wet, dripping centre on the outside of her underwear. She rubbed down on it, trying to relieve some of the friction and cried out.

“Need— need,” she struggled to focus with your hand on her breast and hot breath on her neck. “Need you,” she whimpered. Nat usually put up more of a struggle for dominance, and fucking was typically far more playful than the pure desire her face expressed. You didn't need to be told twice, taking your fingers and skirting the waistband to dip even lower. When you felt how soaked she was you sucked in a breath.

You pulled her underwear down in a single fluid motion, thumb swiping right over her clit. Nat shook against you with a moan, hand wrapping around your shoulder to hold you close and keep her stable. You started slowly, gently inserting your middle finger into her entrance, and Nat shuddered, leaning into you and holding you tight.

It was an awkward angle, but you never would've told her to move or let you go. It was the warmth you had been missing, and you watched her face scrunch as you slowly began to move your finger. Nat let out a breathy moan, nails digging into your shoulder, and you took the subtle note, adding a second finger.

She's ground down into your hand, clasping your wrist in encouragement, and soon you were moving quicker inside her entrance. Her legs shook with your movement, head thrown back and no longer able to look at you anymore as you fucked her down to your knuckles. You'd done this before, but you had a fire in your belly.

When her grip on your shoulders faltered and her hands fell to grip at the sheets, you took your other hand and gently rub it on her clit, thumbing the bundle of nerves in a way that has her loud. She sucks in breaths and moans, throwing back her head, and you listen to them with a smirk at how quickly she seems to be approaching release.

Your fingers pumped deep inside of her and she shook, and then she said your name. "(Y/n)," she breathed out.

"Hm?" you asked, adding extra pressure on her clit. She let out a gasp.

"I love you," she said, and though it caught you off guard, you did not slow down. She had said it before while fucking and so had you. "I love you," she repeated, and you could feel her body tensing.

"Uh...I love you," you said it back, continuing to fuck her with your fingers.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, Nat," you whispered.

"I love you!" she gasped again, and this time, you felt her body tense completely. Cum leaked out onto your fingers, coating them in her slick while she shook. You slow down your pace, watching her with more awe than you'd like to admit. She just looked so beautiful, splayed out like that and still gently shaking from time to time while she regained herself.

When you gently pulled your fingers from her centre, she shakes and whimpers with the lost sensation. You put your fingers to your lips and into your mouth. Nat tasted just as sweet as before, and your gaze softened at the girl in front of you just as her chest slows its heaving.

"Are you alive?" you asked, sitting up and grabbing your shirt from of the floor to tug it over your chest. She nods slowly, then opens her glossy, blown-out eyes. She's not awake for long, and it only takes a few minutes for her to be out like a light. She's still shaky and weak, but she sends you a smile before she falls asleep.

You don't know why you do it, but you gently lift her up and under the sheets of the bed, pulling the duvet over her. You'd probably have to reimburse Lottie for the dry cleaning. You don't know why you do it either, but after heading towards the door with a pile of clothes in hand, you decide to stay. You clamber into the sheets alongside her, resting your head on the pillow and watching her softly sleep until you fall asleep on your own.

You can't place exactly why it hurts you so much, when you wake up the next morning and realise Nat's no longer there.

THERE WILL BE A PART 3 COMING I PROMISE BUT THIS WAS SO LONG ALREADY. ANYWAYS, FINALE NEXT TIMEEEEEE

#natalie scatorccio x y/n #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x you #yellowjackets

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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On Monday, the Venezuela Prosecutor’s Office issued an arrest warrant for Edmundo González Urrutia, the overwhelming victor of the country’s July 28 presidential election. It was the latest escalation in Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro’s campaign to shut down the country’s political opposition and assert victory in a contest he patently lost. But this latest move is poised to usher the ongoing political crisis into a more dangerous phase—possibly its endgame.

Opposition leader María Corina Machado, who was barred from running in the election, has skillfully held together a broad coalition of support for González both within the country and abroad. On Aug. 29, European Union foreign ministers made a point of speaking with González and reaffirmed that they would not recognize Maduro’s claims of victory. Support for the opposition from the Organization of American States and the European Council, as well as the diplomatic spotlight on Maduro’s increasingly violent tactics and lack of electoral transparency, has helped keep the country’s democratic space more open than it otherwise would have been. The United States also appears to have been in back-channel talks to bring about a transition. U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s call and Vice President Kamala Harris’s personal letter to Machado and González were important high-level demonstrations of support. On Monday, the United States sent a more direct message and seized Maduro’s presidential airplane. Colombia and Brazil, seen as more sympathetic to Maduro, have called for the release of the electoral results and for dialogue with the opposition.

These efforts, however, have done little to persuade Maduro to change course and accept a democratic transition. As I have previously suggested, this struggle is in part because outsiders have consistently underestimated the resilience, ruthlessness, and adaptability of Maduro’s regime.

Given the other crises on the international stage, it may be tempting for international actors to regretfully move on from Venezuela and its problems. But that would be a mistake.

The situation in Venezuela remains extremely fluid. More than a month after González’s victory, thousands of Venezuelans continue to peacefully protest and defy their government—notwithstanding increasing repression by the security forces that has led to dozens of deaths, thousands of arrests, and driven opposition leaders into hiding. The Venezuelan people and opposition continue to deliver a consistent message to the world: This is the moment for change.

There is little appetite for returning to the Trump administration’s unsuccessful policy of so-called maximum pressure. Maduro not only withstood the pressure, but he also took it as a chance to further consolidate his power within the country. However, the calibrated approach to the current crisis taken by the international community also seems to have run its course. Last year’s Barbados Agreement, which was supposed to produce democratic elections in return for the lifting of sanctions, failed to stop Maduro from manipulating the electoral process and instead gave his regime a lifeline of renewed access to global oil markets.

Now, Maduro is playing the long game. Most foreign governments are unlikely to cut diplomatic ties with his regime, and he is narrowing the political space available for the opposition and using Venezuela’s institutions to legitimize his claims of victory. As the prospect of González being detained continues to grow, the question is what more the United States and others can do as Maduro pads his government with hard-line loyalists and prepares to inaugurate himself as president on Jan. 10.

The following are measures that may already be under consideration in Washington but should become reality as soon as possible if they are going to have any impact on a rapidly deteriorating situation:

First, Blinken and U.S. National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan should personally and unequivocally warn that there will be serious consequences should Machado or González be detained or harmed. That has not happened to date, although Blinken has called for “the safety and security of the democratic opposition leaders and members” to be protected, and one of his assistant secretaries condemned Monday’s arrest warrant. But more personalized statements, like the message sent by Harris, carry extra weight at a moment of grave threat.

Second, the United States, with the European Union and other Latin American governments, should call for a United Nations General Assembly session on Venezuela with the goal of producing a resolution in support of a democratic transition and highlighting Venezuela’s plight on the global stage.

Third, while the Department of Treasury will imminently announce new sanctions on senior officials in the Venezuelan electoral council, as well as intelligence and security services, the fact is that the United States could accelerate the pace of individualized sanctions on a broader array of people responsible for repression and electoral fraud. Doing so would maximize impact at a time of considerable uncertainty. History shows that sanctions are more likely to be effective at times of high tension and in the short term, becoming less impactful over time.

Fourth, if González is arrested, it may also be time to revoke U.S. licenses for multinational oil corporations doing business with Venezuela. Global oil markets have adjusted to the energy shock of 2022—prices are actually falling—making Venezuela less of a linchpin. For Venezuela, the easing of sanctions has been a boon, with production rising from about 735,000 barrels per day in September 2023 to 908,000 in June 2024. There is no reason for the United States to help Maduro cushion his economy at this moment, and there is little evidence that the lifting of sanctions appreciably lessened out-migration from Venezuela as intended by the Barbados Agreement.

Fifth, the U.S. Department of Justice appears to be currently withholding sensitive information from the public that led it in 2020 to issue a $15 million reward for the arrest of Maduro—information that could severely damage Maduro’s legitimacy domestically and internationally if it were to expose ties to issues such as drug trafficking, corruption, and terrorism. Already in January, U.S. senators called for the release of the evidence on Maduro’s alleged money launderer, Alex Saab, who was released in a December 2023 prisoner exchange.

Sixth, and most consequential, the United States, in unison with other governments, could immediately recognize González as the president-elect of Venezuela, not just as the person who won the election. On Aug. 1, Blinken acknowledged the latter, saying, “It is clear to the United States and, most importantly, to the Venezuelan people that Edmundo González Urrutia won the most votes in Venezuela’s July 28 presidential election.” Washington appears hesitant to formally recognize González as president-elect: The State Department’s statement marking one month following the election, for instance, called more generally for electoral transparency and for the democratic will of the Venezuelan people to be respected. The European Union is also divided on how far to go. This shell game must end, especially if González is detained. The opposition has released copies of around 80 percent of the “actas” from more than 23,000 voting stations, and it’s abundantly clear that González won fair and square.

Some may argue that recognizing González would be a rerun of what happened in 2019 when Venezuela’s National Assembly supported Juan Guaidó as interim president in a short-lived challenge to Maduro’s unconstitutional election the previous year. The current juncture, however, is profoundly different. What happened in 2019 was about constitutional violations by the Maduro government; this time around, it’s about a blatant attempt to steal an election won by an opposition candidate.

Recognizing González as president-elect would radically shift the dynamic currently in play, energizing the opposition and Venezuelan public at a time when there is a danger that internal momentum may be lost because of increasing repression.

Beyond democratic aspirations, helping the opposition succeed is crucial for reasons that transcend Venezuela’s borders. Mass migration from Venezuela and its status as a hub of international criminality and terrorism have upset regional stability, and, with the largest oil reserves in the world, the country remains an important part of geoeconomic calculations on energy security for the United States—and for China, Russia, Cuba, and Iran.

We are at a unique juncture in modern Venezuelan history, with a democratic transition on the line that will affect us all if it fails. Venezuelans will need more, not less, support in the coming weeks if they are to have a chance of success.

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ask-nyc-boroughs · 10 months ago

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Colonial Florida, Carolinas, & Georgia

CW: depictions of violence

Just sharing some information on some of the southern states I have worked on.

I’ll start with Carlisle “Carl” Graves/ South Carolina & Margaret “Maisie” Ferguson / North Carolina. They’re half siblings. Carl’s father is probably some sort of English county personification (most likely Dorset), and his mother is an English woman with some French Huguenot heritage from Barbados who migrated with her family to South Carolina. Given the fact she’s in the tidewater south and given her class, having a kid out of wedlock was taboo so I imagine his father arranged for her to marry a man, who is of a northern English / Scottish background. They end up moving to North Carolina’s back country to be with his family, and have Maisie. In my lore, there is some discrimination, or prejudice especially in this period against personifications born to human parents. I imagine most settler colonial personifications have human parents, but the few that don’t like Carl, that has 1 personification parent, I believe that gives him some social clout. Also I decided to make North Carolina younger because tbph South Carolina was the seat of power and colonial North Carolina didn’t really get going without South Carolina. I also don’t go by earliest permanent settlement for a state-level oc, it doesn’t always make sense to me for a variety of reasons.

Anyways Carl is a bit controlling, and he’s more of a tidewater southerner, and Maisie loves her brother but doesn’t appreciate his controlling behavior. Also one final note on carl, he can come off a bit cold but he’s quite the stereotypical ideal of a southern gentleman. Charming. Polite. Etc. Maisie is more of an Appalachian ngl. I’ll discuss Maisie another time. But Carl’s , and his friend/neighbor, Curtis Bartlett/ Georgia childhood was marked by constant fights with the Spanish and their colonies especially Louisa Flores / Spanish Florida.

Obvs, that isn’t a great situation for a kid to find themselves in, and it does impact Carl’s controlling behavior and also makes him rather jealous of Alfred later. Alfred wasn’t always the US in my lore, and Carl believed that he would’ve been elected/ selected by his peers to represent this new country given Carl’s history and background. Also one other thing is prior to the Revolution, Alfred was not universally liked by his states. Actually he’s never been universally liked by his states lol. Anyways Carl does resent Alfred for a number of years.

I split Florida into two because it didn’t make sense to have 1 continuous Florida given the fact that most Floridanos (the Spanish settlers) leave during Florida’s British colonial period. Louisa ends up having a kid with an Anglo-American settler from the colonial backcountry, this kid is Elena/ Elaine Moore, who comes to represent the US state of Florida. I think Louisa hides the fact that Elaine is her kid for both their sakes since Elaine comes out really pale in comparison. I’ll discuss Elaine more in the future, she is 110% Florida woman tho lol, but sometimes you’ll see me draw her with much lighter skin and that’s cause like if Elaine isn’t going outside and tanning highkey she passes as a white woman.

White passing and its history is something I want to explore more in my lore, but yeah that’s all I’m gonna leave it with the basic info on these southern states. I will say out of all them, Maisie / North Carolina & Carl / South Carolina are major players in my Nor’easter lore lol

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 6 months ago

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Ha. HAHAHHAHAHA. (Screams. Smites brow. Throws heavy object at 2001, when Putin had already taken power, 9/11 happened, the Bush Administration--after Bush took power in a corrupted election-- started trampling on civil liberties and reinstituting torture as "enhanced interrogation," and so forth.... I mean, this was written a little before for an Orwell anthology that came out in 2001, but the complacency kills me.

It was kind of a lull in atrocity in some places, but there was plenty of lies, propaganda, corruption, destruction, and abuse, by authoritarian regimes, the fossil fuel industry, global capitalism--we'd had the revolt against the World Trade Organization and its sinister world-domination agenda in 1999. And in 2001, British imperialism was not over--Barbados left the Commonwealth in 2021. Saudi Arabia was Saudi Arabia. China was China. Silicon Valley was gearing up for real harm including a lot of the Big Brother sort. Evil doesn't always look exactly like it does in Nineteen Eighty-Four, but that doesn't mean it laid down and died. Sheesh.)

(Rebecca Solnit)

#1984 #George Orwell #history #Rebecca Solnit

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newhistorybooks · 7 months ago

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“Before reading A Seat at the Table, I thought I already knew the Shirley Chisholm story. As the first Black woman elected to Congress, she earned a place in history as a trailblazer who has inspired so many professional women and people of color. Drs. Brooks and Starks capture her journey from childhood in Barbados to local politics in New York, to Congress, and a run for president of the United States. This is a must read. With examples, the authors share her personal narrative and convey how she was passionate about equality and education as she navigated racism and sexism in the United States. She is an inspiration to all of us who serve the public good.”

#uwlibraries #history books #women's history #african american history #biography #political history #20th century

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billionbrilliantstars · 7 days ago

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The salt in the wound of the US election result is that our own news won’t acknowledge what has happened. I do believe other factors like the spread of misinformation and Biden’s late dropout exacerbated the situation. But Kamala Harris lost this election primarily because of racism and misogyny.

According to the world population review we are 73 out of 96 countries for racial equality. Countries that outrank us include the UK at 16, Australia at 12, Portugal at 13, Ireland at 10, Netherlands at 3, and New Zealand is number 1.

We’re a bit better for gender equality, 44 out of 146 on the same website. But for comparison, we are still outranked by every country that came above us for racial equality and some of the other countries that outrank us specifically for gender equality are Barbados, Jamaica, the Philippines, Namibia, and Iceland is the number one country for gender equality

It’s obvious our country is behind on racial and gender equality. We can’t fix that unless we acknowledge that these two issues are why we chose a deplorable man over a highly qualified, compassionate, and intelligent woman of color.

#us politics #world politics #gender equality #racial equality #end racism #end misogyny #fuck the patriarchy #usa #kamala harris #anti donald trump #anti Trump #democrats #democratic party #women’s rights

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zvaigzdelasas · 1 year ago

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Venezuela's government and its political opposition on Tuesday agreed to electoral guarantees for 2024 presidential elections, paving the way for possible U.S. sanctions relief, though the deal did not lift bans on opposition candidates barred from public office. A presidential election will take place in the latter half of 2024, the electoral deal said, and international observers, including from the European Union and United Nations, will oversee the vote. Multiple sources had said ahead of Tuesday's announcement that the U.S. was prepared to ease some oil-related sanctions on OPEC member-nation Venezuela if Washington was satisfied that President Nicolas Maduro had given enough ground to the opposition. President Joe Biden's administration has long said it would lift some of its long-standing sanctions in exchange for democratic concessions from Maduro. The White House did not immediately respond to a request for comment as it studied the agreement reached in Barbados. It was not immediately known how soon the U.S. might act or how far it could go with sanctions relief. U.S. sources have also said any relaxation of sanctions would be reversible if Maduro fails to meet his election commitments. Oil revenues are central to Venezuela's economy.

17 Oct 23

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newstfionline · 5 months ago

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Monday, July 1, 2024

Despair in the air: For many voters, the Biden-Trump debate means a tough choice just got tougher (AP) The sound you might have heard after the presidential debate this past week was of voters falling between a rock and a hard place. Apart from the sizable and pumped-up universe of Donald Trump’s supporters, the debate suddenly crystalized the worries of many Americans, a portion of President Joe Biden’s supporters among them, that neither man is fit to lead the nation. Heading into the first debate of the general election campaign, voters had faced a choice between two strikingly unpopular candidates. They then watched as Trump told a stream of falsehoods with sharpness, vigor and conviction, while Biden struggled mightily to land debating points and even to get through many sentences. It added to doubts about the 81-year-old Democratic president’s fitness to be in office for four more years. Now, the options are even more dispiriting for many Democrats, undecided voters and anti-Trump Republicans. More than a few people came away from watching the debate very conflicted.

“Rural Studies” (NYT) Kristin Lunz Trujillo grew up proud of her family’s way of life. She spent summers getting ready to show cattle at the county fair. During the school year, she rushed home after class to feed the chickens on her family’s corn and soybean farm. Neither of her parents went to college, but they encouraged their daughter when she decided to go to Carleton, a liberal arts school a two-hour drive from their farm in Minnesota. Despite being physically close to home, Ms. Lunz Trujillo was surprised by how foreign her upbringing seemed at the college. She was dismayed when she checked out the farm club and learned that its members wanted to brew kombucha, not milk cows. When an art history teacher asked students which famous paintings they’d seen in person, Ms. Lunz Trujillo stayed quiet, because she had never been to an art museum. This sense of cultural alienation molded her research when she became a political scientist: What is rural identity? How does it shape a person’s politics? This year, Ms. Lunz Trujillo, now an assistant professor at the University of South Carolina, was reading a new, best-selling book that cited her research to explore those same questions. But “it seemed to be more of a hit piece on rural America,” she said. “White Rural Rage,” by the journalist Paul Waldman and the political scientist Tom Schaller, is an unsparing assessment of small-town America. Rural residents, the authors argued, are more likely than city dwellers to excuse political violence, and they pose a threat to American democracy. Ms. Lunz Trujillo excoriated the book in an opinion piece for Newsweek as “a prime example of how intellectuals sow distrust by villainizing�� people unlike them.

Beryl strengthens into hurricane in Atlantic, forecast to grow into major storm entering Caribbean (AP) Beryl grew into a hurricane Saturday as it churned toward the southeastern Caribbean, with forecasters warning it was expected to strengthen into a dangerous major storm before reaching Barbados late Sunday or early Monday. A major hurricane is considered Category 3 or higher, with winds of at least 111 mph (178 kph). A hurricane warning was issued for Barbados, St. Lucia, Grenada, and St. Vincent and the Grenadines. A tropical storm warning was posted for Martinique and Tobago and a tropical storm watch for Dominica.

CDC warns of increased risk of dengue fever infections (Yahoo) Federal health officials are warning that dengue fever risks are elevated in the United States as cases in the Americas for the first half of 2024 are already more than double last year's rates. This year has also set a record for global cases of the potentially fatal mosquito-borne illness, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said in a June 25 advisory. Rising global temperatures are fueling a similar boom of dengue-infected mosquitoes, the CDC said. That's particularly concerning during the summer when Americans are more likely to travel to territories and countries with high rates of the virus, including to Puerto Rico, which has declared a public health emergency due to its nearly 1,500 cases of the illness, the agency said.

One gun, 34 dead: Inside Ecuador’s war on black-market weapons (Reuters) The gun—a 9-millimeter pistol—blazed a violent trail even by the standards of one of Ecuador’s most dangerous neighborhoods, the Nueva Prosperina precinct of Guayaquil. Shell casings from bullets fired by the weapon, recovered at the scenes of 27 separate violent incidents, were linked to 34 deaths, according to a police forensic unit. And a police forensic official told Reuters the authorities believe the pistol remains on the streets. The havoc attributed to a single firearm exemplifies the challenges for President Daniel Noboa’s crackdown on an explosion of violent crime and homicides since 2020, fueled by a sharp increase in smuggled weapons during the same time, many of them from the United States. Ecuador recorded 7,994 murders last year, a nearly six-fold increase since 2020.

Britain’s Young Voters Are Frustrated (NYT) As the flag of a British workers union flapped behind him on a blustery June morning, Liam Kehoe was on strike with colleagues outside Royal Liverpool University Hospital, demanding better pay for porters, cleaners and catering staff. Their wages have failed to keep up with the surge in the cost of living, and many said they were living paycheck to paycheck. Mr. Kehoe, 26, serves food in the hospital. Thinking of the life that his parents built on salaries earned as a nurse and a truck driver, Mr. Kehoe says that young people have been left with far worse prospects after 14 years of a Conservative-led government. “If you go back 30 years ago, houses were a bit more affordable, life was a little bit easier,” he said. “Nowadays, it’s like you can’t afford anything.” Polls suggest more than half of voters under 35 plan to vote for Labour on Thursday, compared with 27 percent of voters over 65. While the gap between young and old in politics is not new, the extent of the split in Britain in recent years is exceptional.

France’s exceptionally high-stakes election has begun (AP) Voters across mainland France began casting ballots Sunday in the first round of an exceptional parliamentary election that could put France’s government in the hands of nationalist, far-right parties for the first time since the Nazi era. The outcome of the two-round election, which will wrap up July 7, could impact European financial markets, Western support for Ukraine, and how France’s nuclear arsenal and global military force are managed. Many French voters are frustrated about inflation and economic concerns, as well as President Emmanuel Macron’s leadership, which they see as arrogant and out-of-touch with their lives. Marine Le Pen’s anti-immigration National Rally party has tapped and fueled that discontent, notably via online platforms like TikTok, and dominated all preelection opinion polls. A new coalition on the left, the New Popular Front, is also posing a challenge to the pro-business Macron and his centrist alliance Together for the Republic.

7 killed and dozens wounded after missiles slammed into a town in southern Ukraine, officials say (AP) Russian missiles slammed into a town in southern Ukraine, killing seven civilians, including children, and wounding dozens more, local authorities reported. Ukrainian officials published photos of bodies stretched out under picnic blankets in a park in Vilniansk, and deep craters in the blackened earth next to the charred, twisted remains of a building. Thirty-six people were wounded in Saturday evening’s attack, authorities said, and declared a day of mourning Sunday. Vilniansk is in Zaporizhzhia region, less than 30 kilometers (20 miles) from the local capital and north of the front lines, as Russian forces continue to occupy part of the province.

For India’s garbage pickers, a miserable and dangerous job made worse by extreme heat (AP) The putrid smell of burning garbage wafts for miles from the landfill on the outskirts of Jammu in a potentially toxic miasma fed by the plastics, industrial, medical and other waste generated by a city of some 740,000 people. But a handful of waste pickers ignore both the fumes and suffocating heat to sort through the rubbish, seeking anything they can sell to earn at best the equivalent of $4 a day. “If we don’t do this, we don’t get any food to eat,” said 65-year-old Usmaan Shekh. “We try to take a break for a few minutes when it gets too hot, but mostly we just continue till we can’t.” Shekh and his family are among the estimated 1.5 to 4 million people who scratch out a living searching through India’s waste—and climate change is making a hazardous job more dangerous than ever. In Jammu, a northern Indian city in the Himalayan foothills, temperatures this summer have regularly topped 43 degrees Celsius (about 110 Fahrenheit).

US, Europe warn Hezbollah to ease strikes on Israel and back off from wider Mideast war (Politico) U.S., European and Arab mediators are pressing to keep stepped-up cross-border attacks between Israel and Lebanon’s Iran-backed Hezbollah militants from spiraling into a wider Middle East war that the world has feared for months. Iran and Israel traded threats Saturday of what Iran said would be an “obliterating” war over Hezbollah. Hopes are lagging for a cease-fire in Israel’s conflict with Hamas in Gaza that would calm attacks by Hezbollah and other Iranian-allied militias. With the stalled talks in mind, American and European diplomats and other officials are delivering warnings to Hezbollah—which is far stronger than Hamas but seen as overconfident—about taking on the military might of Israel, current and former diplomats say. The Americans and Europeans are warning the group it should not count on the United States or anyone else being able to hold off Israeli leaders if they decide to execute battle-ready plans for an offensive into Lebanon.

Gaza’s remaining hospitals will stop working in two days, health officials warn (Washington Post) Gaza’s remaining hospitals, health centers and oxygen stations will stop working within 48 hours as the fuel needed to operate generators runs out, Gaza’s Health Ministry said in a statement shared to Telegram noon local time Sunday. Israel’s closure of the vital Rafah border crossing last month severed key supply lines, limiting access to food, fuel and medical supplies inside the enclave, aid groups say. A United Nations report released earlier this month said that more than 1 million people in Gaza are expected to “face death and starvation” by mid-July. Many of Gaza’s medical facilities have already been damaged, raided or evacuated since Oct. 7. Israel has made hospitals a key target of its military campaign, alleging Hamas uses them for militant activity. In other instances, fighting between Israeli forces and militants has struck hospitals and clinics.

Kenya’s urban population is growing. The need for affordable housing is, too (AP) In the heart of the crowded Kibera neighborhood in Kenya’s capital, Jacinter Awino shares a small tin house with her husband and four children. She envies those who have escaped such makeshift homes to more permanent dwellings under the government’s affordable housing plan. The 33-year-old housewife and her mason husband are unable to raise the $3,800 purchase price for a one-room government house. Their tin one was constructed for $380 and lacks a toilet and running water. “Those government houses are like a dream for us, but our incomes simply don’t allow it,” Awino said. Kenya’s urban areas are home to a third of the country’s total population of more than 50 million. Of those in urban areas, 70% live in informal settlements marked by a lack of basic infrastructure, according to UN-Habitat.

#headlines #news

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everybody-votes · 5 months ago

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Poll Five - The Monarch/Republic debate

Intended for all citizens of the Commonwealth, but of course this debate is more popular in some countries than others

Now they're all very fun easy-to-learn terms, but imma explain it for fun reasons

A constitutional monarchy is essentially where a King is the ceremonial figurehead of the state. He's officially in charge of things, but in reality he doesn't exercise any power (that's left to Cabinet, the Prime Minister, and sometimes Parliament). Just a bit of ceremonial stuff such as honours. You can find this in countries such as the UK and the Commonwealth, along with other nations such as Denmark and Sweden

A parliamentary republic is basically the same as a constitutional monarchy, but with a ceremonial President instead of a King, ergo no heirs apparent or royal family to speak of. They may be elected, but they're often appointed by the legislature. You can find this in countries such as Ireland, Germany, Barbados, and India.

A presidential republic is where the President actually does have power. They may or may not have a Prime Minister as their deputy, but they often have considerable political power, and considerably more independent of the legislature than parliamentary republics. Unlike the parliamentary republic, the Presidency tends to be a directly elected office. You can find this in countries such as the Untied States, Brazil, and Cyprus.

As for an absolute monarchy. Well, the king rules all. And his children will in the future. You can find this in countries such as Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Oman.

Let me know what you think!

#king charles iii #king charles lll #monarch #british monarchy #anti monarchy #pro monarchy #uk #australia #commonwealth #canada #germany #republic #president #new zealand #a poll a day #polling #tumblr polls #tumblr #everybody votes

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fatehbaz · 2 years ago

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When Dr Harold Young [...] takes visitors on a journey around Belize City, the first stop is an unremarkable building, whose basement entrance is partly shrouded by creeping pink bougainvillea. Its padlocked gates and broken windows back on to a parking lot in the city’s historic centre. Most passersby ignore the innocuous plaque outside. Belize, a country of 400,000 citizens, is [...] a part of the English-speaking Caribbean. A former British settlement and then colony, it is one of the region’s eight remaining Commonwealth realms – independent countries where the monarch remains the head of state.

Belize is the only Commonwealth realm King Charles has never visited.

The building is blocked from public entry but is known locally as the former headquarters of a TV station [...] once owned by the Conservative peer Lord Michael Ashcroft, who has sprawling business investments around Belize. But for those who are aware, the building serves as a horrifying reminder of the brutality of British rule here. “It’s the last remnants of a holding dungeon for slaves,” Young says. “Before they were put out for sale.”

Unlike the island states in the Caribbean, where plantation slavery underpinned the colonial economy, enslaved labour in Belize revolved around the logging of mahogany at camps in the country’s interior. [...] [T]he remnants of violent enslavement are now mostly absent from public view. The building’s story has been passed down for generations, and is noted in certain tourist literature. But the historic plaque outside, while acknowledging its use in the mahogany trade, presents its connections to slavery merely as “local folklore”. “When you live in a colonial environment, the colonialists don’t want you to prove what they were doing was a horrendous trade, right?” says Young, who is Belizean Creole, meaning of mixed African heritage. [...]

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History is still not fully told. Crimes remain unacknowledged. [...]

But as the United Kingdom prepares to crown its new king, the citizens of Belize are laying the groundwork for a similarly historic event: they could be the first nation to remove Charles as head of state. [...] The process, the prime minister [...] acknowledged in an interview [...] means it is “quite likely” that Belize will be the next country to leave the Commonwealth realm, following Barbados’s seismic decision to become a republic in 2021. [...] Belize is not alone [...].

[D]iscussions over the future of the British monarchy have accelerated throughout the region.

Now, officials in seven of the remaining realm countries in the Caribbean have indicated they will seek to follow the same path [...]. In Jamaica, [...] the government has committed to a vote before the next general election in 2025. In Antigua and Barbuda, the prime minister [...] said shortly after the death of Queen Elizabeth that he would hold a referendum within three years. [...]

Such debate is far from new to the English-speaking Caribbean and did not begin with Barbados’s decision in 2021, nor the death of Queen Elizabeth last year. Carried by a wave of Black nationalism and socialism, three former British colonies, Guyana, Trinidad and Tobago and the newly independent Dominica, removed the monarch as head of state throughout the 1970s. Alternatives to the crown had been debated in popular circles long before even then. [...]

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Still, symbolism and imagery of the current moment [...] matter, particularly as relations between the English-speaking Caribbean and the UK fall to new lows in the aftermath of the Windrush scandal and both the government and the monarchy’s recent refusals to go beyond passive expressions of regret and offer a formal apology for the atrocities of slavery.

In March last year, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s visit to the Caribbean marking the Queen’s jubilee was punctuated by a series of protests that cast a long shadow over the exercise in soft power. In Jamaica, photographs of the pair shaking hands with children through a chainlink fence and later parading in white clothing in an open-top Land Rover were decried as a throwback to colonialism.

In Belize, the couple were forced to abandon plans to visit a Mayan village in the country’s south, following protest. [...] “There’s only so much the fig leaf of public relations and exercises in ‘soft power’ can cover,” [...]. “These images and videos were widely shared on social media [...].” Outside St John’s Cathedral in Belize City, the remains of a semicircular brick wall mark the boundary from where, it is said, enslaved people were permitted to listen to services inside. The building itself was built by enslaved labour, but colonial authorities banned enslaved people from entering.

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Text by: Oliver Laughland. “‘Colonialism lingers’: Belize shrugs off coronation amid calls for repatriations.” The Guardian. 4 May 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

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sunflowerdigs · 2 years ago

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I'm not even sure Justin Kirk will be in the finale. Neither he nor his secret service detail are credited on imdb, and one of the actors playing secret service agents has always been correctly credited in, even when Justin wasn't. The president elect being anywhere without security is kind of unthinkable at this point. They might just go back to mention him, maybe images on tv and media and that's that, no more 'live' appearances.

Sad. Yeah, you're probably right. Though, Mencken is a loose cannon and his showing up to see Roman sans secret service (his mantle of power) would speak volumes about Roman's effect on him. Imagine, Roman is in Barbados with mom, feeling like he's at the lowest he's ever been in his life, and Mencken shows up at his window without the secret service (Wildest Dreams, instrumental version, playing in the background, Fabio-esqu white shirt blowing in the wind). I would read that fanfic.

But yeah. Realistically, we'll probably find out about any Mencken news second-hand via calls with Kendall in 4x10, if that.

#succession #roman roy #romencken #no gay sex on Succession

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lboogie1906 · 6 months ago

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Prime Minister Sargeant Robert Milton Cato (June 3, 1915 - February 10, 1997) was a Vincentian politician who served as the first Prime Minister of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines and held the office of Prime Minister of Saint Vincent and Chief Minister of Saint Vincent before independence. He was the leader of the Saint Vincent Labour Party which guided the country to independence in 1979.

He was born in Saint Vincent, British Windward Islands. He was employed by a solicitor (attorney) in Kingstown and began his legal career. He was admitted to the Middle Temple Bar. He joined the First Canadian Army, attaining the rank of sergeant, and served on active duty in France, Belgium, Holland, and Germany during WWII.

He became involved in politics. He co-founded the Saint Vincent Labour Party. He was elected Prime Minister (1967) as leader of the Saint Vincent Labour Party and was instrumental in improving the island’s economic situation. He was the first Prime Minister of Saint Vincent when the island attained statehood (1969). His Labour Party lost the 1972 election and the Opposition Leader became Prime Minister. His party and its coalition partners won the 1974 election.

He served as prime minister (1974-84) coalition broke up in the mid-1970s. He invited the public to submit proposals for an independent constitution, he led a delegation to a constitutional conference in London to prepare for Saint Vincent’s transition to full independence. When Saint Vincent achieved political independence on October 27, 1979, he became the first Prime Minister of Saint Vincent. His government did not support other socialist governments nearby, such as those in Cuba, Grenada, and Guyana, because he rejected Marxism. He allied himself with pro-Western governments in Trinidad and Tobago and Barbados and cooperated with them on economic and defense issues.

He was married to Lucy-Ann Alexandra Cato. She was a member of the St Vincent Infant Welfare Maternity League, the Thompson Home Committee, and the Saint Vincent Music Council. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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mariacallous · 6 months ago

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If average global temperature rises are to be limited to 1.5 degrees Celsius above preindustrial levels (in line with the 2015 Paris Agreement), climate finance globally will need to increase to about $9 trillion a year globally by 2030, up from just under $1.3 trillion in 2021-22.

According to the International Energy Agency, 30 percent of climate finance globally needed—around $2.7 trillion—will have to come from the public sector, with the remaining 70 percent coming from the private sector.

This is the scale of the world’s climate finance needs. However, when viewed in the context of governments’ other spending priorities, $2.7 trillion in public money is achievable. Indeed, in 2022 governments spent $7 trillion on fossil fuel subsidies alone.

A large portion of that $2.7 trillion must flow to developing countries in the form of grants and concessional loans. Official development assistance (ODA), provided by traditional donors in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), will not get us there alone. ODA hit a record high of $287 billion in 2022 but only because developed countries shifted resources to aid in Ukraine’s defense; in previous years, it hovered around just $236 billion. A surge of right-wing politics in the United States and Europe has forced budgets down, and even Emmanuel Macron’s liberal government in France has reneged on previous aid commitments.

For all but a few emerging economies, developing countries’ greatest climate challenge is not solely a lack of private finance for mitigation projects but a lack of low- or no-cost public finance for adaptation and loss and damage efforts. Despite their social returns, adaptation projects such as infrastructure upgrades and sea walls do not deliver immediate financial returns to investors and are notoriously difficult to scale for the private sector.

Both developed and developing countries have been vocal about the need for new forms of public climate finance beyond ODA, and they are considering different options under the rubric of “innovative finance.” The recognition has been particularly important in discussions on the newly created Loss and Damage Fund. At last year’s U.N. Climate Change Conference in Dubai, or COP28, countries pledged around $700 million to capitalize the fund—including an unexpected $100 million from the United Arab Emirates—but it will need billions of dollars to respond to more than one country crisis. This is why the fund’s bylaws encourage its capitalization through a “wide variety of sources, including innovative sources” inside and outside the Paris Agreement.

There is no single agreed definition of innovative finance, but it generally refers to any financing mechanism or arrangement that mobilizes, governs, or distributes resources beyond ODA. Most innovative finance mechanisms, such as “blue bonds” or the International Monetary Fund’s Special Drawing Rights, still depend on loans and the largesse of rich countries, whose leaders also face tough inflation and consequential elections. These are just two reasons why such initiatives have stalled or failed to live up to expectations.

On the resource mobilization side, many countries have come out in favor of new global taxes to fund climate needs in developing countries. Here, as in other areas of climate, small island states and low-income countries are providing essential leadership. They are also finding allies in the global north. Taxes on shipping, fossil fuel production and subsidies, air travel, financial transactions, and extreme wealth feature prominently in agendas to reform the international financial architecture, such as Barbados’s Bridgetown 2.0 and African leaders’ Nairobi Declaration, and in the recent Paris Pact for People and the Planet. These calls have been taken up by a new International Tax Task Force, launched by France and Kenya at COP28, to deliver a verdict on the options available.

Beautiful ideas and big numbers abound, but the real challenge is more direct: Who pays? Industries will always pass the tax on to the consumer—but which consumers, where? There is also a question of equity and justice: Why should consumers in developing countries be taxed to pay for a problem they did not create?

It’s possible to create taxes that incorporate such concerns. Founded in 2006 by Brazil, Chile, France, Norway, and the United Kingdom and hosted by the World Health Organization, Unitaid is a successful global health program for low- and middle-income countries that receives over half its funding from air passenger levies. The levies—introduced as low as 1 euro for economy seats on flights within Europe and up to 40 euros for business seats on long-haul flights—are collected and earmarked for Unitaid by governments in 10 developed and developing countries. By 2012, the levies were raising between 162 million and 175 million euros per year, totaling 1 billion euros since its creation. According to an assessment by the French government in 2009, “The introduction of the levy had no apparent effect on the volume of air traffic passing through French airports nor on the volume of air traffic affecting France.”

But finding examples of similar financing success is hard, especially on a global scale. Many options have been proposed, such as taxes on shipping, aviation, fossil fuel production or exchange, financial transactions, and extreme wealth, but only shipping has made serious institutional progress. Last year, countries in the International Maritime Organization (IMO) agreed on a decarbonization strategy for the shipping industry that depends on the introduction of a global tax. This would make a tax on shipping, responsible for 3-4 percent of global emissions, the first global carbon tax. According to estimates from the World Bank, such a tax could raise $40 billion to $60 billion per year.

That is the upside. The downside is that the shipping industry and many countries with shipping interests are willing to agree chiefly because they expect the revenues to flow back into the shipping industry to fund their push for ships and ports running on accessible, but still expensive, hydrogen and ammonia fuels. It is difficult to achieve a global tax; it is more difficult still to retain the revenues. As of the last IMO meeting in March, a proposal spearheaded by a group of Pacific small island developing states that would allocate the majority of the revenue to broader climate objectives is one of several options being considered as the economic measure to deliver the decarbonization strategy.

A number of countries have expressed interest in establishing international climate solidarity levies, or ICSLs, to pay for addressing loss and damage, but the campaign is still waiting for a developed-country champion. Should one emerge, ICSLs at the national or city level could raise substantial and predictable additional revenues for the Loss and Damage Fund. Oxford Climate Policy’s Benito Müller, a leader in the current campaign for ICSLs, estimates that a 5 euro air levy on all air tickets across the European Union would have raised around 1 billion euros in 2019, while—following the proposal by the IMO’s Emission Reduction Scheme—a levy of 10 euros per maritime container across the same jurisdictions would in 2021 have generated 924 million euros.

In the end, taxes and levies are a question not of economy per se but of political economy. This is the challenge before the International Tax Task Force: to evaluate and advance proposals based on political feasibility as well as projected impact.

Consider one prominent idea, for a global tax on extreme wealth where billionaires are charged some small portion of their net worth every year. Gabriel Zucman, a top French economist, has championed the idea, as has French Finance Minister Bruno Le Maire, who said in April: “This is exactly what we did with minimum taxation on corporate tax. … It would be the same on the international taxation for the wealthiest individuals.”

Just days after Le Maire’s endorsement, finance ministers from Brazil, Germany, South Africa, and Spain endorsed the idea of a 2 percent minimum global tax on billionaires. In a co-written Guardian article, the ministers declared that such a tax would “boost social justice and increase trust” as well as generate more than $250 billion in revenues for governments to invest in public goods. The ministers also urged the G-20 to take up the idea on its agenda at its July meeting, in Brazil. While this is encouraging, U.S. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen dismissed the “notion of some common global arrangement for taxing billionaires with proceeds redistributed in some way. … That’s something we can’t sign on to.” The wealth tax may move forward despite Washington’s concerns, but it is unlike to involve any formal mechanism for redistributing revenues across countries.

Innovative finance is not a silver bullet, nor is it a substitute for developed countries’ existing climate and development obligations. The majority of public funding for climate finance will still have to come from direct government outlays. This requires strong and empowered public sectors in developed and developing countries alike. Recent gains in international tax reform suggest a way forward. More than 140 countries have agreed to impose a minimum effective rate of 15% on corporate profits, a policy launched by OECD countries in 2021. Tax reform efforts in the UN have also picked up speed. Following a historic breakthrough at the UN General Assembly in November 2023, the UN has started the negotiation of the terms of reference for a new Framework Convention on International Tax Cooperation.

Despite the obstacles, we are at an inflection point in the long battle for new global taxes for climate. In addition to the leadership of developed-country and emerging-economy first movers, the continued leadership of small island states is essential. Small island states are champions of ambition by necessity. They sounded the alarm early and led the campaigns for adaptation and loss and damage finance, including in ambitious, practical, and yes, innovative, forms. Today, the world is closer than it has ever been to implementing a global carbon tax—thanks not to the great powers but to the small island states that found a way forward.

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