#pushes data warehouse

[opencommunion]

"The story of  'John Doe 1' of the Democratic Republic of the Congo is tucked in a lawsuit filed five years ago against several U.S. tech companies, including Tesla, the world’s largest electric vehicle producer. In a country where the earth hides its treasures beneath its surface, those who chip away at its bounty pay an unfair price. As a pre-teen, his family could no longer afford to pay his $6 monthly school fee, leaving him with one option: a life working underground in a tunnel, digging for cobalt rocks.  But soon after he began working for roughly two U.S. dollars per day, the child was buried alive under the rubble of a collapsed mine tunnel. His body was never recovered. 

The nation, fractured by war, disease, and famine, has seen more than 6 million people die since the mid-1990s, making the conflict the deadliest since World War II. But, in recent years, the death and destruction have been aided by the growing number of electric vehicles humming down American streets. In 2022, the U.S., the world’s third-largest importer of cobalt, spent nearly $525 million on the mineral, much of which came from the Congo.

As America’s dependence on the Congo has grown, Black-led labor and environmental organizers here in the U.S. have worked to build a transnational solidarity movement. Activists also say that the inequities faced in the Congo relate to those that Black Americans experience. And thanks in part to social media, the desire to better understand what’s happening in the Congo has grown in the past 10 years. In some ways, the Black Lives Matter movement first took root in the Congo after the uprising in Ferguson in 2014, advocates say. And since the murder of George Floyd and the outrage over the Gaza war, there has been an uptick in Congolese and Black American groups working on solidarity campaigns.

Throughout it all, the inequities faced by Congolese people and Black Americans show how the supply chain highlights similar patterns of exploitation and disenfranchisement. ... While the American South has picked up about two-thirds of the electric vehicle production jobs, Black workers there are more likely to work in non-unionized warehouses, receiving less pay and protections. The White House has also failed to share data that definitively proves whether Black workers are receiving these jobs, rather than them just being placed near Black communities. 'Automakers are moving their EV manufacturing and operations to the South in hopes of exploiting low labor costs and making higher profits,' explained Yterenickia Bell, an at-large council member in Clarkston, Georgia, last year. While Georgia has been targeted for investment by the Biden administration, workers are 'refusing to stand idly by and let them repeat a cycle that harms Black communities and working families.'

... Of the 255,000 Congolese mining for cobalt, 40,000 are children. They are not only exposed to physical threats but environmental ones. Cobalt mining pollutes critical water sources, plus the air and land. It is linked to respiratory illnesses, food insecurity, and violence. Still, in March, a U.S. court ruled on the case, finding that American companies could not be held liable for child labor in the Congo, even as they helped intensify the prevalence. ... Recently, the push for mining in the Congo has reached new heights because of a rift in China-U.S. relations regarding EV production. Earlier this month, the Biden administration issued a 100% tariff on Chinese-produced EVs to deter their purchase in the U.S. Currently, China owns about 80% of the legal mines in the Congo, but tens of thousands of Congolese work in 'artisanal' mines outside these facilities, where there are no rules or regulations, and where the U.S. gets much of its cobalt imports.  'Cobalt mining is the slave farm perfected,' wrote Siddharth Kara last year in the award-winning investigative book Cobalt Red: How The Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives. 'It is a system of absolute exploitation for absolute profit.' While it is the world’s richest country in terms of wealth from natural resources, Congo is among the poorest in terms of life outcomes. Of the 201 countries recognized by the World Bank Group, it has the 191st lowest life expectancy."

[arc-misadventures]

Right on Schedule

Jaune looked over a progress report as he was once again was inspecting the walls of, Mantle's newest fortifications. The time graph they had made was displaying good progress the wall. Displaying that for a week, and a half of work, they were well on schedule, even ahead of it in some areas. But, there was a very noticeable dip in the chart from two days ago. A dip that, Jaune didn't like.

Jaune: Hey, Major Skender?

Major Felix Skender, was an officer in the, Atlas Engineer Corp. Jaune had talked to, Major Skender quite often when he came to inspect the wall. He had come to like the fellow. He was a little quirky, though from, Jaune's experience that tended to me a normal habit of anyone into pyrotechnics. Least, Major Skender seemed to be the saner side of things.

At least he hoped he was.

Maj. Skender: Yes, Sir?

Jaune: It's nice to see how things are coming along. I dare say you might be ahead of schedule.

Maj. Skender: Ahh, thank you, Sir! Yes, we are being encouraged by the higher ups to get this completed as soon as we can. That way we can get back to work on the, CC...?!

Jaune's hand shot up silencing, Major Skender instantly. Jaune, gave the, Major a cautionary gaze as he lowered his hand.

Jaune: We do not address it as that. We address it as, General Ironwood's Project, Ironwood's Secret Project, or anthing along those lines. But, we do not say what it is. It is a secret project after all, Major.

Maj. Skender: Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.

Jaune: Good, make sure that the other officers are made aware of this as well. There are many who would take great pleasure in derailing the, General's future plans.

Maj. Skender: Understood, Sir.

Jaune: Now then, about this timetable here... What was this dip here you experience two days ago? You were delayed by about half a day, but you've made up for it. Good job on that, Major.

Maj. Skendor: Oh, thank you, Sir!

Jaune: But, nonetheless; what happened here?

Maj. Skender: Two days ago...? Ahh yes, a bunch of, Happy Huntresses came by, and were disturbing the workers.

Jaune: The, Happy Huntresses? What did they do?

Maj. Skender: They were interrogating some of the workers; They were asking them about what weapons we were installing, how long we were taking. Why did it take so long for, General Ironwood to order the reconstruction, and fortification of the walls. Things such as that.

Jaune: Weren't the people of, Mantle already made aware of these things; Why were they asking what should be seen as common knowledge?

Maj. Skender: I'm sorry, Sir, but I do not know why.

Jaune: Hmmm... Very well then...

Jaune handed back the data slate before giving one last look at the construction upon the wall.

Jaune: I will be taking my leave then. Till later, Major.

Maj. Skender: Till later, Sir.

The Major offered, Jaune a salute who returned one in kind. Jaune then made his way down a flight of stairs. As he made away from the wall he pulled out his scroll, and typed out a simple message to, 'Finch.'

"We need to talk."

Jaune quickly put away his scroll as he walked down the many paths of, Mantle interacting with civilians as he went about. He kept walking until he felt a buzz from his pocket, and he checked his scroll, and read the message that he had been sent.

"Okay. Usual spot?"

"On my way."

Jaune quickly made his way towards the downtown area of, Mantle, heading into one of the many empty warehouses in the southern parts of, Mantle.

As, Jaune entered the warehouse, he was met with the familiar sight of, Robyn Hill resting against one of the many empty crates. She pushed herself off the crate as she walked towards, Jaune. An odd smile spread across her face that, Jaune could not quite place as she walked towards him.

Robyn: Hello, Jaune. What is it?

Jaune: Hello, Robyn. I need to ask you about something that happened a couple a days ago.

Robyn: I suppose you're asking about the incident at the wall that happened the other day?

Robyn crossed her arms, and shook her head. Jaune worried that he may have upset her, but her eyes said she was more so disappointed. Was she disappointed in him for not trusting her? No, no she wasn't disappointed in, Jaune. She was disappointed in herself. Herself, and her followers.

Jaune: What happened?

Robyn: Some of my followers... they saw how quickly the wall was repaired. So, they went to the wall, and wanted to know why, General Ironwood was taking so long to order it's reconstruction if it only took three days to do. Since the, Engineers couldn't explain it, the people got angry, and... well they got rowdy.

Jaune: And, the Engineer's had to keep them back so they didn't get too close to the construction site. Otherwise something could have happen to them. Or, worse, one of them could have gotten hurt.

Robyn: Exactlly.

Jaune: So that's why construction was delayed. Since I didn't hear anything about a mass arrest, I suppose it was dealt with peacefully?

Robyn: Yes, two of my cohorts; Fiona, and another member of the. Happy Huntresses, May Marigold came by, and dispersed them. I told them to make sure things like this didn't happen again.

Jaune: They better. The sections getting the new fortifications will have armed guards around them all the time. While I am certain of the, Atlasian Militaries trigger discipline, I wouldn't hold it past, Ironwood to get... itchy fingers.

Robyn: Do you think, General Ironwood would order his troops to open fire on civilians?!

Jaune waved his hand down, placing one on his lips as he looked at, Robyn. Her voiced echoing in the empty warehouse.

Jaune: Your voice carries, Robyn; In more ways than one.

Robyn: I'm sorry... I just... Do you seriously think, General Ironwood would do that?

Jaune looked at, Robyn before turning to look away shaking his head.

Jaune: I not saying he will, but... If he was pushed far enough...

Robyn: Oh... oh no... No wonder you want me on the council; The more I learn about, General Ironwood, the more I understand why you want someone to put a leash on him.

Jaune: Someone has to, and the only person who could is... preoccupied...

Robyn: Preoccupied with what?

Jaune: Uhhh...? A severe case of identity crisis...

Robyn: Really?

Jaune: More, or less...

Jaune didn't want to lie to, Robyn, he wanted to keep her trust in him. But, knowing about Ozpin, and Oscar was a whole bucket of worms that he didn't want to deal with. And, besides, even if she used her semblance on him, he wasn't lying. Technically.

Robyn: ...

Robyn: Very well. Is that it all you wanted to talk about, Jaune?

Jaune: That's it. Is there anything you want from me, Robyn?

Robyn: Uhh... yes there is.

Jaune: Oh, what is it?

Robyn: I was wondering if you wouldn't mind coming to one of my rallies I'm having today?

Jaune: Oh, why so?

Robyn: Several reasons. You've mostly heard about my political policies, and plans from my supporters.

Jaune: I have.

Robyn: Well, I was wondering if you'd like to hear it from the horses mouth. To know what I think of, and how I plan to help the people of, Mantle, and Atlas.

Jaune: And, to have a, Specialist there to... show their... No, to show, Atlas's support for you?

Robyn stopped, and stared at, Jaune. A coy smile appeared across her lips as she pointed a finger at him.

Robyn: You can say that.

Jaune returned her coy smile with one of his own.

Jaune: If anyone asks, just say I'm there to keep the peace. We'll use the incident at the wall the other day as an example.

Robyn: Alright then. Let's do this.

~~~

Jaune had never been at a political rally before. He thought it would involve a lot of wine sipping, and snobbish wealthy people speaking down to people. If this was a political rally run by someone like, Jacques Schnee it would no doubt be like that. But, no, this was more simple, more relatable. It was nice.

Although, Jaune certainly had something to say about her posters.

; Jaune? Jaune!

Jaune: Hmm? Oh, hello, Casey, fancy seeing you here today.

Casey Roll. One of the mothers he often saw when he was leading kids to school, and often was the one who gave him rather large servings of casseroles to him. While he did miss taking those kids to school, he was tired of all the casseroles...

Casey: Hi, Jaune! I haven't seen you lately, what are you doing here?

Jaune: Oh, I'm just here to make sure things go smoothly. We don't want another incident like we had at the wall the other day.

Casey: Oh, I heard about that. People were upset that, General Ironwood didn't order the repairs of the wall sooner if it was only going to take a matter of days to rebuild it. But, luckily he listened to, Robyn Hill so he decided to rebuild the wall, and fortify it!

Jaune smiled, Casey's enthusiasm was infectious, but even more so at the news that his little rumor was spreading so well. He told, Casey's friends about his little white lie, if she was repeating it, then no doubt others were as well.

Casey: So, even though you're here just watching things, are you enjoying yourself?

Jaune: To a point. I'm just inspecting the 'art' right now.

Casey: You mean the, Robyn's political posters.?

Jaune: Yes. The political posters...

Casey: ...

Casey: You hate it don't you?

Jaune: Oh absolutely. This an absolutely the worse design you can make for a political poster. I mean, give me a marker, and five minutes, and boom! Wanted poster!

Casey: ...

Casey: Oh shit... you could do that... How much?

Jaune: Hmmm...?

Jaune: At least ten thousand lien.

Casey: That's fair.

Jaune: I mean, why doesn't she have a slogan, or anything like that? 'Robyn Hill, The Hope of Mantle.' Something simple like that. At least she could be smiling in the photo. Or, is being dead on the inside a natural expression for people from, Atlas, and Mantle?

Casey: Yes.

Jaune stopped staring at, Robyn's picture to give, Casey a concerned look. But, based upon the expression on, Casey's face that she was giving him, she was in fact: dead serious.

Jaune: ...

Casey: ...

Jaune: Noted...

Casey shrugged her shoulders before she let loose a startled gasp as she darted to the side, Jaune looked over to see, Robyn, and a few of her, Happy Huntresses behind her.

Robyn: Hello, Specialist Arc, it's nice to see, General Ironwood's underlings showing some concern with the common people of, Mantle.

Jaune: Hello, Miss Hill. The concerns of, Mantle are also the concerns of, Atlas. So of course, General Ironwood is concerned about the common people of, Atlas. but, in this case, Miss. Hill I am here to keep the peace. We do not wish for another incident from your followers, like we did at the wall the other day.

Robyn: There wouldn't have been an 'incident' if, General Ironwood had rebuilt the wall once it was broken.

Jaune: So you say.

Casey had back away as, Jaune, and Robyn had begun to verbally spare with one another. As soon as she was out of earshot the conversation changed to something that carried a more casual air to it.

Jaune: Putting up a facade for your darling fans?

Robyn: We may be... allies of sorts, Jaune. But, since you are an, Atlasian Specialist, I do have to put up an air of defiance towards you, and by extension, General Ironwood. I'm glad you caught on so quickly, Jaune.

Jaune: It was simple enough to catch on to. I've seen how you act with my fellow, Specialists. So it was easy enough to play the... polite jerk with you.

Robyn: So you did... Well if you'll excuse me, I must address the people of, Mantle.

Jaune: Best of luck then... 'Councilwoman' Hill.

Jaune's comment may have been taken as a teasing jest from, Jaune. As if saying that she will never get a seat on the council. But, Robyn knew from the small smirk that, Jaune gave her was that she had his full support, and hope for her to get that seat on the council. For the good of, Mantle, and Atlas.

~~~

Robyn: Welcome everyone!

A cheer of zeal, and joy abundance echoed through the auditorium as, Robyn stood on the stage, and walked before her supporters. Jaune spared, Robyn a look as she took the stage before his eyes rested on the crowd, and watched them carefully.

Robyn: As many you have seen, Atlas have begun the reconstruction of the walls of, Mantle!

More cheers echoed as, Robyn celebrated the walls reconstruction with her supporters.

Robyn: I know many of you are happy that the people of, Atlas are supporting the people of, Mantle. That they are not only rebuilding the breach in the wall, but also fortifying it! Adding weapons to protect the people of, Mantle from the, Grimm!

Robyn: I know some of you are angry. That this should have been done years ago, that the walls should have been fortified as they will be the day they were built. Or, the fact that when they start firing those guns, it will be rather loud...

The audience laughed at, Robyn's simple remark. But, after hearing that, Jaune made a mental note in the back of his mind that they better inform people when they started test firing the weapon emplacements. He could think of several reasons why people wouldn't like that.

Robyn: But, the people of, Mantle, and Atlas are one people. We may call ourselves, Mantlites, or Atlasians, but at the end of the day, we are one people. One people who should not be fighting each other, but a common enemy: The Grimm.

Jaune could hear murmurs of agreements as, Robyn said those words. The Grimm were the people of, Mantle, and Atlas true enemy. Not each other. Jaune could agree with that, the Gri...?!

Jaune's mind abandoned his previous train of thoughts on, Robyn's word. Something was here, someone was here. Jaune had seen something. A lanky individual, a brown cloak over their head. Jaune recognized that shape. And, if it was who he thought it was, then things were about to get messy...

Jaune drowned out the world as he slowly weaved his way through the crowd. His mind was solely focused on the individual that was moving closer to the stage. Jaune quickly made his way to cut them off, but was careful to make his sure his presence was unnoticed. But, if it was who he feared it was, he knew their attention solely focused on, Robyn.

And, it was, considering they never saw him coming until his cerulean eyes locked in on his crazed yellow eyes.

Jaune: Hello, Tyrian~!

Tyrian: Wha?!

Jaune pulled out his sword, and sent it flying towards, Tyrian's face. People screamed as they ran out of the way, and started to flee the building. Unfortunately, Tyrian was a slippery bastard as he weaved out of the way of, Crocea Mors pristine white blade.

The crowd started screaming as they ran away. Jaune tapped his hip several times before deploying his shield, and taking a defensive stance at the mad scorpion faunas.

Tyrian: Whoa-hahaha! Well, hello again!

Jaune: I would say it's nice to see you again, but that'd be a lie.

Tyrian: Hahaha! Well it's nice to see you again!

Jaune: I doubt that...

Jaune was stalling for time; Jaune's greatest concern wasn't just, Tyrian, but also the civilians here. But, as he was stalling for time, most of the civilians in the auditorium had managed to escape, the only one that remained was, Robyn. She had sent, Fiona, and May off to help evacuate the civilians. With one extra huntresses, the odds were now on his side. But, nonetheless... the odds are never good when fighting a psychopath.

Tyrian: Well, since you spoiled the fun I bes... Whaa?!

Jaune stabbed forward with his sword hoping to catch, Tyrian off guard, but he managed to dodge out of the way, but, Jaune was more focused on keeping him here, and not letting the slippery bastard from getting away.

Jaune swung his sword in an upward arc, before leveling it it to stab at, Tyrian, before pulling back his blade back, deflecting the mad scorpions bladed gauntlets.

Tyrian jumped back before charging forward, and jumping on, Jaune's shield planning to throw him off balance, and take him down. But, just like many others before him, they all underestimated, Jaune's capabilities.

Jaune felt, Tyrian push on his shield, and cackle on as he readied his stinger to stab at, Jaune only for, Jaune to push his arm forward, and send him flying back. He spun in the air before landing on his feet, he let out a maniacal laugh before it was cut short as, Jaune bashed him in the face with his shield.

Jaune thought he was going to have an easier time dealing with this pyshco since his stinger was cut shot by, Ruby. But, evidently he had gotten a prosthetic tail to replace it. That just made him all the more dangerous.

Robyn: Jaune, duck!

Jaune 's body dropped into a squat before quickly standing back up as an crossbow bolt whizzed above him. Tyrian's bladed gauntlets flew through the air as he started knocking down the various blots, Robyn sent flying at him.

Tyrian leapt over, Jaune, and charged, Robyn. Robyn's crossbow changed into a bladed shield as she started crossing blades with, Tyrian. Jaune realized as he ran up towards the pair that, Tyrian wasn't just randomly here, he was here for a reason. He was here to carry out an assassination, and Robyn was the target.

Jaune: Robyn! He's a scorpion faunas! Watch out for his stinger!

Robyn: Got it!

This was the first time, Jaune got to see, Robyn in a fight, and to put it simply; She fought just like her name sake: Like a bird. Robyn's movement were as smooth, and as majestic as a robin in flight. Her skill with her weapon was as precise as a master violinist's. And she was deadly as a hawk on the hunt. It was mesmerizing to see. Almost.

Jaune's eyes weren't looking at the beauty of, Robyn's fighting style . His eyes were only taking in her passively, his attention was solely focused on, Tyrian. And, he saw something he didn't like.

A dark violet glow enveloped, Tyrian's hand as he reached for, Robyn's side. Jaune saw what a lilac field around, Robyn's side disperse, and make a hole on her side. Jaune suddenly realized something that was very, very dangerous.

That glow around, Tyrian's hand was an active sign of him using his semblance. And, Tyrian's semblance was capable of making holes in people auras! It was the perfect semblance for a, Hunter killer.

Jaune: Robyn! Back away from him!

Robyn, jumped back before, Tyrian could land a fatal blow. Tyrian charged her, but before he could he had to dash back as, Crocea Mors came flying past him. Jaune did see this as a dangerous move; Throwing his primary weapon, and leaving him relatively defenseless. But, Robyn's death was an even worse outcome for the future of, Mantle, and Atlas.

Tyrian laughed as, Jaune's sword flew past him, and he swiftly turned on him, and jumped atop of. Jaune. This action caught, Jaune off guard; Jaune had over extended himself allowing, Tyrian to land on top of him. Luckily, Jaune still had his shield on him, but, Tyrian had him pinned to the ground.

Jaune felt his aura being pulled away by, Tyrian's semblance. Jaune quickly activated his own semblance amping up his aura, trying to cover the breach in his wall, but it was too little, too late.

Jaune: AHHH?!

Jaune felt a searing burning pain as, Tyrian's stinger dug into his shoulder, injecting him with his vile poison.

Robyn: NOOO!

Robyn yelled as she fired bolt, after bolt at, Tyrian. But, Robyn had charged in too close to, Tyrian.

Tyrian effortlessly jumped off of, Jaune's prone body, and tackled, Robyn. Pinning her to the ground as his stinger rose into the air.

Tyrian: Ah-HAHAHA! It's my lucky day! Not only do I get to kill an annoying little, Huntsman! But, also the savior of, Mantle! Ah-HAHAHAHA!!!

Robyn's eyes widened in fear as, Tyrian's stinger hanged above his head, ready to dive down, and kill her. Robyn struggled against, Tyrian, trying to free herself from his grasp, but to no avail.

Tyrian laugh maniacally assured of his victory. But, as, Jaune watched, Tyrion prepare to kill, Robyn, he remembered something, something, Pyrrha had said to him years ago, back when she was training him on the roofs of, Beacon Academy, back when things were a simpler, happier time.

Pyrrha: "Remember, Jaune, landing the final blow is when your opponent is most vulnerable."

As Tyrian Laughed in mad glee at his assured victory, his laughter was suddenly cut short as, Jaune wrapped his hands around his head, and growled into the monsters ear.

Jaune: I'm not buried yet!

"SNAP, KER-CRAK!!!"

The sound of, Tyrian's neck snapping echoed throughout the auditorium like a gun shot. It was deafening in it's brutal energy, and the sound of the dull thud as, Jaune threw, Tyrian's wretched corpse off of, Robyn.

Jaune's breath came out heavily as he stared at, Tyrian's corpse, a maniacal smile still etched across his face. Robyn looked at, Jaune with wide eyes, stunned silent as she looked about her savior.

Jaune: But, you will be, you bastard son of a bitch!

Jaune yelled this out, panting heavily as before his body gave out, and he fell down, landing on the ground with a solid thud.

Robyn: Jaune...? Jaune?!

Robyn shouted his name as she ran over to him, cupping his face in her hands as she checked him over.

Robyn: Oh no, nonononono!

The doors to the auditorium burst open as several members of the, Specialist team came rushing in.

Clover: Jaune we got your message, what hap... Jaune?!

Clover, and Harriet ran over to, Jaune while, Marrow, Vine, and Elm kept the crowd out.

Clover: What the hell happened?!

Robyn: That psycho attacked us! He stabbed, Jaune with his tail!

Harriet: What psy...?! Wait, that's, Tyrian Callows?!

Clover: He stabbed, Jaune with his tail?!

Marrow: Fuck, that means he's been poisoned!

Clover: Call for a medevac!

Vine: On it!

Clover then pushed, Robyn out of the way as he looked down at, Jaune ever growing pale face.

Clover: Jaune! Jaune answer me!

He couldn't answer him, his voice had left him.

Clover: Jaune! Look at me! Look at me!

His couldn't look at him, his vision was getting blurry.

Clover: Jaune stay with me! Stay with me, Jaune!

He couldn't stay, he was leaving them.

Winter: JAUNE?!

His world faded into the darkness.

[lesbianbarbaragordon]

Still thinking about last night

”No, no, but seriously,” you start, adjusting on your seat, “it wasn’t that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-“ a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself. pairing: tim drake x reader tags: stalking, average tim behavior, college student reader word count: 1.7k part 2 of Unraveling the World read part 1 here

“Do you look up all your girlfriends?”

Tim doesn’t like the insinuation, but he shoulders on because Barbara’s network is far more extensive than his, far more even than the Batcave’s, and this is a favour, after all.

Your face is on full display, a shot from your ID, taking up the main screen on Oracle’s setup. You don’t look very happy.

Your hair is longer than when he met you the other night, and he sees the fading of some sort of dye on the tips of your hair. 20 years old, born and raised in Gotham, there is nothing outstanding about you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replies as an afterthought, his eyes on the screens. You enrolled in GU last year, took up journalism as a major. Why would a college student live in a warehouse? 

Because it has to be a warehouse, why else would it have been called like that in the files?

The incident that led him to your apartment is still something that embarrasses him. A mistake on his part, something that shouldn’t have happened.

He keeps going over the details, trying to understand; it was just the criminal of the week, a robbery gone wrong at a jewelry shop, hostages that shouldn’t have been there. He had been sneaky, gotten inside before anyone noticed, and released the hostages in record time (which was good, because when they started shooting, Tim was the only one inside). But one of the rogues got on the defensive when they saw he was one of the bats, had gotten a hit on Tim’s ear, and broken his comms. Then a shot in the darkness and a sharp pain took over his senses.

Which one was the lesser evil, running away to seek shelter while he was still lucid? Or detaining the rogues but risking further injury?

The final matter came down to “what would Bruce do?”

So Tim had pushed through, managed to knock them out, cuffed them somewhere the police would find them, and left before anyone else could see him.

The sky was raging, as expected of Gotham, when he stepped foot on the rooftops outside. His breathing was ragged, the pain was excruciating and he had left the Red Bird at the cave.

It only crashed down on Tim as the thunder and lightning erupted around him, shivering and in pain. Once the adrenaline left, it hit all at once-

He was alone.

It only took a second for the gears to kick in. He couldn’t access the Batcomputer, or call anyone who could help. He could take care of it without them, but where would he go? Leslie’s clinic was on the other side of the city, and after retiring it had fallen under new management, would whoever was i charge still treat vigilantes? There were no warehouses around the area either, not ones he remembered anyway, and the longer he thought, the more he started to fear bleeding out in the streets.

What other things did he have access to offline? His suit had prior saves of data, backup files from years prior. Tim accessed them with shaky hands. 

As he thought, not many places to go to in the area, but there was somewhere marked as a safe place. Somewhere that wasn’t Bruce’s but that was listed as Bat equipped. He headed there with desperation clawing at his throat, pain drilling at the back of his eyelids.

But he didn’t find what he was expecting. Instead, there was you and a mundane house. Somewhere that looked lived in, rather than a closet stuffed with expensive tech and medical equipment.

He realized too late, that the information was outdated, that he was going to die from a mistake.

Except he didn’t. Except you were there.

And he wants to figure it out, what kind of sane person could possibly do what you had done? He wants to figure you out.

“She isn’t shady,” Barbara supplies unhelpfully. She starts looking over your school records, your extracurriculars, you studied at the same school he did, nothing out of the ordinary; A book club, perfectly good grades, no problems with teachers or classmates. There’s an internship registered under your name at one of Gotham’s local newspapers, and there, a few articles on topics like battok trends or the latest celebrity scandal. The few lines he skims read uninspired.

The only thing Tim finds unusual is paperwork from the year before, for a cat you had adopted.

“I didn’t see any pets.” At least not when he was there. His allergies would have started making him sneeze like a madman otherwise. But what could he possibly get from that?

You’re perfectly ordinary, so ordinary Tim can’t possibly figure out why you’d be living full-time in a Batman safehouse.

And it’s driving him crazy.

Barbara hums, saying your name, and then, she says your second surname, your mother’s maiden name, “Thompkins?”

“Thought it was common,” Tim shrugs because he hadn’t taken notice of the detail during his first research. Barbara sends him a pointed look.

“Who was the safehouse registered under?” It’s a simple question, Tim realizes his slip-up on the next beat.

“Is she related to Leslie Thompkins?” 

“Grandniece looks more like,” Barbara supplies, pulling up your mother’s birth certificate. She digs up an old picture, a younger Leslie posing next to a smiling blonde woman, who holding up a med school diploma. Seems like your mother followed in her footsteps.

“The warehouse is registered under her name,” Barbara supplies, pulling up a scan of the apartment’s deed. Leslie Thompkins is clearly written as the owner. It must have been a safehouse for her, and subsequently for Batman, a long time ago. All before you took over. “You satisfied now?”

Tim says nothing at that, gnawing at his lip.

From the screen, your picture stares back.

…

“It was freaking scary.” You complain over your instant noodles. But they’re too hot and they scald, making you hiss. Your friend stares at you from across the table.

”Right.”

None of your high school peers stuck with you after graduation, so your list of friends remains painfully empty. And it would be a name shorter, had Claudia not appeared into your life.

You met during your internship, where she was interning too, at the literature department of the magazine. You’re both close in age and enjoy reading classics, so you spend lunch breaks together and bond over trash-talking your coworkers. She’s one of the few people you talk to in an otherwise silent existence. And she’s quite funny, too.

”It feels like one of those trashy romance novels, right?” She gestures openly, a sandwich in her hand. You’ve been telling her about your encounter with Red Robin for a lack of anything else. It’s the only interesting thing that’s happened to you in a while. “‘The superhero crashed at my place! And oh no, he’s naked!’.”

You snort, slapping her arm, “he was not naked! And it wasn’t romantic at all! I was so scared I’d throw up all over him from the stress!”

She chokes on a piece of ham, then starts to laugh. You start laughing too. 

It’s a relief having Claudia to make it all sound less scary.

Her laughing stops when her phone beeps and she pulls it out. Meanwhile, you choose to entertain yourself with your food.

”Is it that twitter account?” You ask half curiously. She hums in response, not looking up from the screen.

”Seems like bird boy hasn’t been seen in a while,” Claudia scrolls down her feed as she talks, quickly liking posts or replying to comments. She runs a popular fan account in her spare time that revolves around Gotham vigilantes, which is not a niche topic.  Most of the accounts themed around the bats, much like Claudia herself, are not native to Gotham. Rather, they’re from Metropolis or San Francisco, where the public regularly sees Superman or the Titans. Gothamites don’t have that kind of relationship with their heroes. “Red Robin’s been out of the streets since last Friday.”

”I guess that means you’re not lying,” she says teasing, which makes you blow a raspberry, “how did you do it, though? I would have messed up so bad.”

”Eh,” you start halfheartedly, “I took pre-med classes all through high school. I’ve forgotten most of it, though, but what little I knew came in handy,” you shrug, leaning back against your chair, “he had some pretty useful stuff, too. Super fancy equipment. That definitely helped.”

“Anyone else would have tried seeing under his mask, and you’re telling me what stuck out to you was his equipment?” Claudia laughs. “Maybe your next article will be about the bats’ tools. Does Batman carry around bat-bandaids? What about bat-snacks?”

You choke on your food, pushing down a laugh. It would be better than the stuff you’ve been writing about for these past few months, anyway. There are only so many influencers you can interview without going crazy.

”No, no, but seriously,” you start,  adjusting on your seat, “it wasn’t that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-“ a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself.

“He was your favorite, you said, no?” Claudia catches on and continues, “I’d be just like you if Nightwing crashed into my apartment too.”

You’re about to retaliate, because-

Because what happened was not without meaning. You had realized he was more than an ephemeral figure or a distant idol, something as tangible as you, and that had made you stop fearing, for better or for worse.

But your boss peeks his head around the corner and takes sight of you both. “Your break is over,” he says and stands in the doorway as he watches you tidy up and throw empty containers and coffee cups into the bin.

Just as you’re leaving you catch something by the corner of your eye. On the TV is a fuzzy image of something humanoid, vaguely red and black. 

Wherever you go, the shadow of Red Robin follows.

[goldenlionprince]

If you like it you should put a tag on it

You thought I would be ready to let them out of their little bubble in @sorenphelps The Bodyguard AU yet? Nope. But also, hear me out: dog tags 👀

if you want to check out previous parts of mine, I have a collection on AO3 for all of them. tags for @neverenoughmarauders @lovelymasks

.

“You really won't look at this?” Sirius asks, tapping his fingers against the flash drive still lying on the nightstand.

James sighs and rolls onto his back. “No, even if you ask me another fifteen times. I won't riffle through your past like you're just a piece of data to analyse. It won't change how I see you anyway.”

Sirius looks at him and there is a flicker of uncertainty in those grey eyes that James just can't have there. “Look, if you want to tell me about your time at the military or about your family or anything at all, you absolutely can. But I want it to come from you, not a military report.”

“What if what I tell you makes you run for the hills?”

“Won't happen.” James turns onto his side so he can better look at Sirius. “How many times do I have to say it for you to believe it? I saw you yesterday. I saw you stab that one Death Eater multiple times and that wasn't even the first time I've seen you get rid of someone.”

Sirius very nearly flinches and James does feel a little bad about it but he has to get it into that stubborn brain of his that James won't be turned away by this.

“There was this guy with the Death Eaters. Severus.” Sirius almost growls at the mention of that name but James pushes on. “Said he was an old military buddy of yours. He couldn't shut up about how many people you've killed. Sounded a little jealous about the numbers, not gonna lie.”

“Buddy,” Sirius grumbles. “Sure we're buddies. He only tried to blow me up and I had to get away through secret tunnels and with the help of a smuggler. Interesting way to declare someone is your buddy.”

James blinks at him multiple times. “Okay, we will come back to that eventually. My focus right now is on the mention of multiple killings.”

“As it should be,” Sirius says, sounding almost defeated now. “He didn't lie to you, James. It might be a first in his miserable life but he didn't lie.”

“Oh, really?” James huffs. “So your body count fills multiple graveyards?”

“It might. I've lost count.” Sirius looks at the fabric of the blanket, plucking at a loose thread. “The things you've seen yesterday, that's not the first time I did that. Nor was it the worst I ever did. The nickname they gave me... the Grim, the omen of death... it was well deserved. Do you know how much death you have to bring for people to see you like that? To see you and know they will die? And you know what's the worst about all of it? I enjoyed it. I wore that name with pride. I loved doing my job so well.”

“I still don't -”

“James,” Sirius interrupts him, looking at him desperate to understand. “I was addicted to that life. And I might still be because all of those people yesterday? I enjoyed killing every single one of them. I might never be able to shake the Grim completely.”

Sirius sighs and closes his eyes, unable to look at James any longer. James reaches out for him, cupping his cheek in his hand. “I saw all the bodies there when we walked out of the warehouse. All the blood,” James says, using his other hand as well when Sirius tries to pull away, cradling his face gently but firmly in both of his hands. “My point is, I know you're capable of violence. I'm not blind. I do realize you have a bloody past and it's a part of you. But I also know that you've never turned that violence against me, and that, when I needed you, you were there and ready to rip the whole world apart for me. Why is it so hard for you to hear that this is incredibly hot and won't make me run away?”

With another sigh Sirius leans into the touch, his lips brushing against the palm of James' left hand in a barely there kiss. “Because it won't be the first time something like that ruined a relationship for me.”

“Remus?” James asks. Sirius only nods.

“Well, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not Remus.”

A little chuckle leaves Sirius' lips. “Yeah, I've noticed.”

“Good. So listen to me. I really need you to listen,” James continues, his voice almost a whisper. “I'm in love with you, Sirius. With the person you are right now. I need you to believe that I chose you and I won't change my mind on that or run away.”

“You can't promise that,” Sirius says as he opens his eyes again but he looks very much like he wants to believe it.

“I just did,” James says with a shrug like it's the most normal thing in the world because for him it is. It's easy to promise something like that because he knows he's stubborn enough to hold on to Sirius, no matter what. Stubborn enough to hold on until Sirius finally sees he's worth it.

Sirius looks at him like he can't believe someone like James can even exist, then pulls him closer and kisses him again, deep and long and all consuming.

They don't talk for a while after that.

****

Sunset lights the whole evening sky on fire. It's all flaming reds and oranges, tinged with a little bit of purple at the edges. It reminds James of the phoenix on Sirius' chest, brilliant and bright with a taste of new beginnings.

Sirius leans over to the nightstand and pulls the drawer open, but instead of searching something inside he reaches underneath the drawer to where he had hidden the flash drive. “Is there another one?” James asks with a lazy smile from where he sits, leaning against the headboard of the bed. “Is this where I find out you're really the prince of a small European country somewhere hidden in the alps?”

Sirius' laugh echoes through the small room. “Sorry to disappoint. As much as my parents would have liked it, we're not royalty.”

“And here I thought I could be king someday,” James says with a grin as Sirius turns back to him, a small envelope in his hands. “How will I live now with my dreams shattered?”

“I hope you'll survive somehow,” Sirius says and rips the envelope open. The silver chain he pours out of it into his palm reflects the red light of the setting sun.

Before James can ask him what he's doing, Sirius drops the chain around James' neck, cool metal hitting the centre of his chest. James picks up the small pendants attached to the chain and looks at them in the fading light.

BLACK SIRIUS O. ᛈᛉ390 AB POS GRYFFINDOR

Dog tags. They are Sirius' dog tags.

“I probably should have gotten rid of them ages ago,” Sirius says, watching James as he lets them fall back against his chest.

“Why didn't you?” James asks. The metal warms up against his skin. He likes the feeling of it. It's barely there weight but James likes the reassurance it brings.

Sirius shrugs. “Couldn't get myself to do it. Now I'm glad I kept them.”

A grin spreads on James' lips. “Do you like the idea of your name on me?”

“You have no idea,” Sirius says, a matching grin tugging at his lips as he hooks his fingers into the chain around James' neck and pulls him closer. “I would like it even more if you'd wear them all the time.”

James' heartbeat speeds up at the thought alone. “I think I can do that,” he says, sounding almost a little breathless to his own ears, before he crashes their lips back together in a heated kiss.

Outside the window the first stars can be seen in the slowly darkening sky.

[rjzimmerman]

A Banggai cardinalfish swims in Indonesia’s tropical waters. Photo: Jens Petersen (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Excerpt from this story from The Revelator:

Nothing fascinates Monica Biondo more than the animals often referred to as the ocean’s “living jewels” — the vividly colored little fishes who dance around in its waters.

Biondo, a Swiss marine biologist, became enamored with ocean life as a child after spending many summers snorkeling along the Italian coastline. Nowadays you’re more likely to find her deep-diving into trade records than marine waters. As the head of research and conservation at Fondation Franz Weber, she has spent the past decade searching through data on the marine ornamental fish trade.

These are the colorful fish you see in home aquariums or for sale at pet stores; Biondo wants to know where they came from, how they got there, and what happened to them along the way.

Compared to the clear waters around the coral reefs she’s explored, the records on these fish are frustratingly murky. Wading through them has though provided her with clarity on her calling: shining a light on the aquarium trade’s vast exploitation of these glamorous ocean dwellers.

Her entry into the fray came in the form of a Banggai cardinalfish, a striking little fish endemic to an archipelago in Indonesia that first became known to science in the 1930s. A scientist redescribed the species in 1994, kickstarting a tragic surge in the fish’s popularity for aquariums. Within less than a decade, 90% of the population had disappeared, Biondo says.

After witnessing that rapid decline, along with the failure of countries to subsequently regulate global trade in the species, Biondo was hooked. “That really pushed me into looking into this trade,” she says.

In her search for information she has pored over paperwork in the Swiss Federal Food Safety and Veterinary Office’s records warehouse. She and her colleagues at Pro Coral Fish have also spent years rifling through a European Union-wide electronic database called the Trade Control and Expert System (TRACES), which collects information on animal imports.

Although the datasets varied, the questions have remained the same. How many marine ornamental fish are being imported? What species are they? Where did they originate?

These straightforward questions are hard to answer to because the trade — despite being worth billions annually — has no mandatory data-collection requirements. As a result, information gathered about trade in these fishes tends to be opaque and haphazard compared to information on live organisms like farmed food animals.

[cryobabiess]

I love you, it's ruining my life.

Lucas Reyes x Ghost!reader

Synopsis: Lucas catches feelings, but he's pretty sure it was the toad venom's fault. Tags: Fluff, Angst, Short fic, Drabble, age gap, loser in love, slight nsfw, afab!reader, request A/N: Listen, someone had to write something. Shout out to the 5 other people who get it. IYKYK. This was originally a request, but I wanted to post separately just in case I feel like continuing, idk.

You make him feel old—not that he would ever tell you that. Lucas is an alcoholic (functioning, of course). He’s pushing 50. His exhaustion is bone deep and angry. Gone are his days as a young and scrappy FBI operative with aggressive stamina and limitless joint mobility. His knees crack when he stands up, and his back fucking hurts. 

He's a washed up, tired, and downright old son'uva bitch.

These are all things he would admit without a gun to his head.

And to be frank, there’s usually a gun.

But Lucas would rather let the death that’s been chasing him finally finish the job than admit that you make him feel…something. Something that made his transition from petty political enemy to global terrorist threat only a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things—from bad to only slightly worse, but better in an abysmal sort of way. He felt it when he was fucked up off that vial of toad venom, when he grabbed your deceivingly delicate face in between his hands.

“I need you alive.” He slurred, his heart a poorly timed surprise away from cardiac arrest, and his pupils blown wide. About 1,000 complex feelings consumed him in that moment—all telling him that the only way to communicate them was to hoist you up by the back of your thighs, fuse your body into his, and kiss you. 

“The world needs you alive.” He blubbered, fighting the urge to bury his beat-up face in the crook of your neck. Right there, in the midst of a plane ride he was 90% sure he wouldn't survive, you restored every piece of his moral backbone that had been crushed. He swore he saw the future in those big, confused eyes. His purpose. He needed to tell you. He wanted to whisper it against your mouth, with his forehead pressed against yours, as if being inside you could communicate what words couldn't.

Somehow, the toad venom lost to the tiny sliver of reason in his concussed mind (you can’t pickle a pickle). 

He knew he was royally fucked when he woke up in a hospital bed in a dilapidated warehouse, crude and brightly colored children’s drawings decorating the concrete walls. Through bloodshot eyes, he watched you redress the gunshots he took on your behalf and thought: I’ll follow her anywhere.  (Like he said—Fucked.)

You. The Ghost.

A 20-something-year-old “terrorist” on a global hit list. Blowing up sweatshop factories and debt collection data servers, committing cyber crimes for resistance organizations. Pointlessly raging against a massive, bloodthirsty machine with infinite resources, money, and warm bodies to defend it. He used to be one of those bodies.

Lucas had enough years under his belt to know that all your effort and sacrifice, though deeply admirable, might be futile. The rich will get richer, and the rest of us devoured by their machines. Arbitors of justice rarely catch a break—a 2 year long lesson he learned in Bangkok. He knows better.

Two weeks in a make-shift hospital bed passed, and his better judgment is nowhere to be found. He might have left it on the plane.

“I’m getting too old for this.” He hisses as you tightly wrap a clean dressing around his shoulder, where a knife was lodged. 

“At least you’re not dead.” You retort. Lucas wheezes a laugh. It fucking hurts.

He would've died for you anyway. 

[paigesbasketball]

Echos of the Fallen

Chapter 7: tension breaks Shadow the Hedgehog x reader Warnings: kissing, a little heated Notes: due to me being gone this is a little treat

8:37 AM – Warehouse Hideout, Interrogation Room

The dim light above flickered softly as Avia leaned forward across the metal table, arms braced on either side. Shadow sat opposite her, still and silent, his wrists no longer bound—because he’d broken free over ten minutes ago and hadn’t left.

Which was exactly what unsettled her.

“You broke the restraints,” she said, eyeing him coldly.

“I didn’t like the accommodations,” he replied evenly.

“You stayed.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Didn’t feel like leaving.”

Her jaw tensed. “Fine. Then let’s get this over with.”

She pulled a tablet from the side table, flicking to the audio logs, the stolen data, the surveillance footage. “You’ve been tracking me. You knew who I was before I ever stepped into that compound. So tell me—what’s G.U.N.’s endgame?”

Shadow didn’t answer right away. His crimson gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth and back again.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

“At what?”

“This whole bad cop thing.” His voice was low. “The tone. The glare. The faint touch of gravel in your voice when you’re trying not to show how much you're enjoying having me here.”

Avia blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“That serum’s working a little too well.”

“It’s not the serum. It’s the truth.” He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “You like having me tied up, don’t you?”

She stared at him.

“You’re lucky I don’t still have you restrained,” she muttered.

“You could try,” he said. “But let’s be honest. You’ve already had me under your control for weeks now. Haven’t needed ropes.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. The conversation had veered into territory she hadn’t authorized—and certainly wasn’t prepared for.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s fascinating,” Shadow said. “Watching you try to pretend this is just about questions and answers.”

She shoved the tablet aside, standing abruptly. “I’m done. I’ll have someone else finish this.”

Shadow stood too, his movements fluid and controlled. “No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I’m not answering to anyone but you.”

She turned sharply, irritated—and maybe a little thrown. “Shadow, the serum is affecting your mind. You don’t mean what you’re saying. Just stop before you—before you say something you regret.”

But Shadow shook his head slowly. “I don’t regret the truth. And I’m not trying to seduce you, Avia—”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.

“—I’m just done pretending we don’t both feel it.”

“Feel what?”

He took a step toward her.

“The way the room shifts when we’re alone. The way you keep your distance but still track every move I make. The way your voice hitches—just slightly—when I get too close.”

She backed up once, twice, until the wall was at her spine. Her heart thundered like she’d been running a marathon.

“This is ridiculous,” she whispered. “You’re—”

He closed the space between them. “I’m honest. That’s all.”

Her breath caught as he leaned in, just enough to make her dizzy with heat.

“Tell me to leave,” he said, “and I will.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

So he kissed her.

And in that moment, every question, every ounce of resistance, every calculated step of their interrogation turned into wildfire.

Her breath hitched, and that was all the permission he needed.

Shadow kissed her—not soft, not tentative, but with the kind of pent-up tension that came from too many close calls and too much unsaid. It was heat and defiance and something dangerously close to need.

Avia’s hands came up instinctively, palms pressed against his chest, as if to push him away—but she didn’t. Couldn’t. Because somewhere in the chaos of it, she realized she was kissing him back.

And when she did, his hands moved to her waist, firm and effortless, lifting her like she weighed nothing.

She gasped into his mouth as her back met the wall again, legs instinctively tightening around his waist for balance, her body reacting faster than her mind could catch up.

Shadow pulled back only slightly, just enough to speak against her lips, his breath warm and ragged.

“You wanted answers,” he murmured. “Here they are.”

She tried to shake her head, tried to clear the haze, but his mouth found hers again, silencing her thoughts. His lips were fire and gravity and everything she hadn’t meant to want.

He kissed her deeper this time, like he’d been waiting years for this moment. His grip on her tightened—not rough, but unrelenting—as if letting go was no longer an option.

“I know what I feel,” he whispered between kisses, voice low and reverent. “Serum or not. I’ve known it since that first night I saw you vanish into the dark and couldn’t stop following.”

Avia shivered, her fingers curling into the edge of his jacket, unsure if it was from the words or the way his mouth moved with hers again, like he was trying to memorize every breath she gave him.

“You’re not just a mission,” he said, lips brushing her jaw, then her throat. “You never were.”

“Shadow…” she whispered, voice faltering.

“I told you,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “I don’t lie. Not to you.”

And then his mouth claimed hers again—like a vow sealed in fire.

9:25 AM – Warehouse Hideout, Team’s Break Room

The tension in the room had been thick for a while now. The team had settled into their usual positions, their minds wandering as they waited for something—anything—from Avia. Zero was still at his terminal, keeping an eye on the feed. The silence felt oppressive, like they were all holding their breath.

Then Zero’s fingers paused mid-type.

There was a long beat before his voice cut through the air. “You need to see this.”

Scar, Viper, and Nova all stopped whatever they were doing, instinctively moving toward Zero’s screen. His fingers hesitated for a moment before he tapped a few keys, pulling up the live feed from the docks.

The camera feed flickered, static buzzed for a second, and then there they were. Avia and Shadow.

The intensity in the air between them was palpable. They were close—too close—and their movements were slow, deliberate. Avia’s back was still pressed against the wall, but Shadow had closed the gap between them. He was standing right in front of her now, his eyes dark with something deeper than just the fight they’d shared moments ago. Something more.

And then it happened.

Shadow leaned forward, slowly, with a purpose, and before anyone could process what was happening, their lips met in a heated kiss.

It was nothing like the calculated movements of their earlier interaction. This wasn’t a battle anymore, it wasn’t about leverage or answers. It was raw, intense, and far more intimate than anything the team had imagined.

For a moment, all there was was silence in the break room. The entire team stared at the screen in shock.

Zero blinked first, shaking his head. “What the hell...?”

Viper’s expression was unreadable at first. Then a slow, smug grin spread across her face. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Scar didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the screen, pizza slice still in hand, though he had completely forgotten about it. His brow furrowed slightly, but there was a faint trace of amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Nova leaned in, her voice teasing as she glanced at Zero. “Looks like your boss has a bit more control over Shadow than we thought.”

Zero didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his mind racing. It didn’t make sense. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. It was personal. The shift between them had been too quick, too sudden. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Is this… is this what we were waiting for?” Zero muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Why didn’t she tell us? Why didn’t we—”

Before he could finish, Viper crossed her arms, her tone dry. “If you’re asking why she didn’t call us in, it’s because it’s none of our business. Looks like Avia has it under control, in her own way.”

Scar chuckled softly. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll explain it to us later. After she gets the info out of him. Or… whatever else is happening.”

Nova smirked, her voice playful but laced with intrigue. “If that’s the plan, I don’t think Shadow’s gonna be giving her any answers anytime soon.”

The kiss between Avia and Shadow seemed to stretch on, the camera capturing the intensity of the moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, they pulled away from each other. Avia’s breath was ragged, but she was still standing firm, her eyes locked on Shadow’s with a mix of determination and something else. Something unspoken.

Zero couldn’t look away. He was trying to analyze the situation, trying to make sense of it all, but it was impossible. What had just happened? What was this?

“We need to check in with her,” Zero said finally, voice tight, though he didn’t know whether he was speaking out of concern or some other instinct.

But Viper, ever the pragmatist, shook her head. “No. She’s handling it. She’ll let us know when she needs us.”

“Yeah,” Scar added with a dry laugh. “Besides, if she wants to kiss the guy and get answers at the same time, who are we to stop her?”

Zero sighed, a mix of frustration and confusion flickering across his face. He didn’t understand it—didn’t understand what had just happened. But one thing was clear: the mission had just taken a very different turn.

And he wasn’t sure where it was going to lead.

[jouceras]

The Stalking Tiger His hand brandished the gun, light brown eyes flickered around the empty warehouse. Various machines hummed as electricity pushed through their systems. Data was running on the screens. Kim's recognized Tony's footsteps; scraping over the floor. Of a trekking pole that dragged into the surface. Tony's face sparked into a smile, "you came back." You piece of shit━his lips pressed into a thin line. His hands clenched around the weapon, gesturing for Tony to surrender. "As if," Kim snarled. He lifted his foot slightly from the ground. To check his device remained in place. Which it was. "I hired you, remember?" Tony raised his eyebrow, slowly circled closer to him. "I gave you everything and this is how you repay me?"

"Where is Kenta?" Kim snapped. The fantasy of killing Tony himself replayed in his head. Of blowing his brains out, to finally see Tony's eyes dull of life. His nostrils flared. "Oh?" Tony chuckled. "He's right where he's supposed to be, by my side." On cue, Kenta's familiar footsteps came beside Tony. Kenta's hues hid a thinly veiled panic. His arms were locked behind his back; the standard black clothes on full display. His finger itched onto the trigger, caressing it carefully. When he noticed Kenta stepping in front of Tony, like a shield. Tears swam in his vision, as his gun shook. "Kenta, please move." "I can't," Kenta's underlip shook. He was mere centimeters from his weapon. To the metal that burnt through skin like flames. In direct sight of death. Tony titled his head, "what a beautiful reunion." He laid it thick on sarcasm. "Kill him," Tony continued matter of factually, gesturing with the trekking pole. "Kim is of no use to me anymore." Kenta moved fast━making Kim stumble a few steps backwards. His hands wrapped around his neck, cutting off all air. Cracks of stone fell to the floor as his frame hit the wall. I know, Kim wanted to say, you'll be free soon, hyung. Explosion of pain exploded behind his eyelids. His palm shivered, until the gun landed on the floor. Crash. With the other, he embraced his hand with Kenta's, a reassuring squeeze. Kim sensed the device he had laid in his pocket earlier, flipping it on. "Kenta━" He gasped, "you're safe." With a shaking palm, Kim revealed the jamming gadget. It had an immediate effect as Kenta released him. Kenta tugged him into a hug. His frame shook, as sobs escaped him. "Kim ..." "They're coming," Kim reassured him. He held Kenta tightly. "The police heard it all. Tony won't make it this time." Kim leaned into Kenta's chest, hearing the music of Kenta's heartbeat. He closed his eyes. Relief blossomed in his chest. To his fingertips. "I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier━" "Don't be," Kenta tilted his head up with his finger. Cupped his face. His amber hues filled with rays of gold. Eyes softened. Kenta ghosted his lips. "I knew you would come."

[inspofromancientworld]

Caral-Supe Civilization

By Ontrvet - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18736804

The Caral-Supe, also known as the Caral or Norte Chico, are a group of people that lived along the north-central coast of modern-day Peru from 3500-1800 BCE, contemporary to the building of the Egyptian pyramids. They also lived along the Fortaleza, Pativilca, and the Supe rivers. They are considered to be the oldest-known civilization in the Americas, predating cultures like the Olmecs by nearly 2000 years.

By I, KyleThayer, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2441867

Though there was a complex culture, the Caral-Supe people did not leave any ceramics or evidence of other visual arts behind. They did grow cotton with irrigation, which was a very important crop for clothing and nets as their animal protein sources were marine, even among those who lived inland. This reliance on marine protein sources lead to the hypothesis called the "Maritime Foundations of Andean Civilizations' hypothesis (MFAC), in which the culture began on the coast and then moved inland to find and then cultivate cotton to support those on the coast.

By I, Xauxa, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2503267

In addition to maritime protein, the Caral-Supe people also ate squash, beans, guava, and sweet potato, adding avocado and achira in northern areas. More recent studies also show that maize was also grown. Prior to about 2013, it was thought that the Caral-Supe didn't have a staple food that they grew. According to Evidence for maize (Zea mays) in the Late Archaic (3000–1800 B.C.) in the Norte Chico region of Peru published in 2013, 'New data drawn from coprolites, pollen records, and stone tool residues, combined with 126 radiocarbon dates, demonstrate that maize was widely grown, intensively processed, and constituted a primary component of the diet throughout the period from 3000 to 1800 BC.'

By I, Xauxa, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=222037

Without an artistic or written record, it's difficult to know a lot about the Caral-Supe culture. They did leave behind a vast wealth of buildings, including large pyramids. They also built settlements close together, making it perhaps the most densely populated area area during the 3rd millennium BCE, with the possible exception of Northern China. Quipu have been found, though exactly how or why they were used is uncertain, as it is with later Andean civilizations.

Credit: Caral Archaeological Zone – Ministry of Culture of Peru

Efforts have been made to extrapolate what type of government the Caral-Supe people had, including the economy, ideology, and physical bases of power would have been. Evidence for a central government include some of the structures being built in one or two large pushes and large warehouses left behind. Other economic evidence include the trade relationships between the inland and maritime groups as well as those living else where as evidenced by 'Caral] exported its own products and those of Aspero to distant communities in exchange for exotic imports: Spondylus shells from the coast of Ecuador, rich dyes from the Andean highlands, hallucinogenic snuff from the Amazon.'

source: https://www.ancient-origins.net/ancient-places-americas/unique-artifacts-shed-light-daily-life-5000-year-old-city-caral-002019

The ideology is harder to pin down because they didn't decorate their buildings. A gourd was found with what appears to be the Staff God, a depiction of a human-like figure holding instruments of power, this one being 'a leering figure with a hood and fangs' and it is the oldest such depiction. As this type of depiction is common among other pre-Colombian Andean societies, it is thought that access to deities and the supernatural was a part of the purpose of government.

By I, Xauxa, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2488467

Physical evidence includes a lack of damage due to warfare, including a lack of bodies that were injured in warfare, nor are there walls around the settlements. The complexity of Caral-Supe culture without the evidence of warfare or need for defense driving kin groups into larger societies is unique among those ancient societies that have been studied. Most complex cultures came about as a way to defend against others.

Further Reading:

Pyramidal structure unearthed in Chupacigarro, Peru

[starwarsmum]

Day 21 is Kryptonite

@maribat-calendar-events

Link to AO3

Marinette took a deep breath and pushed into LexCorp’s building. The garment bag over one arm, she tried to ooze confidence as she approached the receptionist and gave them her most winsome smile. The receptionist gave her a warm smile back, which helped ease some of the nerves, but she was still trying to think about how she would get the USB into the system. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, what a pleasure it is to see you in person again,” Lex Luthor said as he welcomed her into his office. She smiled at him but it felt more timid than she wanted it to be and that irritated her. 

“Thank you, Monsieur Luthor, I hope you've been keeping well,” she said politely, setting the garment bag carefully onto the fainting couch Lex had in the room. “I have the piece here, but I'll need you to try it on for a final fitting so if there are any adjustments to be made I can do it as soon as possible for you.” 

“You're a very thorough young woman,” Lex said with an overly charming smile. It screamed false intentions and Marinette had no intention of getting caught up with a villain who could seamlessly blend into  the echelons of society. 

“I try,” she said with a bashful smile. “Oh, I should step out while you try it on. Is there a toilet near here that I could use?” 

Lex's personal secretary showed her to the bathroom and she felt the eyes on her like a physical thing. One of the good things about the bathroom was that the stalls were closed off from the rest of the room so when she transformed the flash was contained. And once she had used her power, it was an easy enough matter to disappear into the vents with the USB she had removed from her person and find a terminal she could use that was unattended. 

It took longer than she would have liked, but soon enough she had completed her task and was exiting the stall as Marinette. She smiled at the secretary as she washed her hands and then was escorted back to the office with no fanfare. Hopefully, Lex would be unable to pinpoint exactly who had infiltrated his systems and her involvement would remain anonymous. 

The rest of the fitting passed in a daze, Marinette confirming that the suit fit Lex perfectly and he would need no further fittings. She neatly sidestepped his immediate request for another commission by claiming she had a full diary currently, but to send her an email (that she intended to decline for as long as humanly possible). 

She was on a train heading for New York before lunchtime and she brightened considerably when Tim met her at the station to accompany her to the Tower. She was ever more cheerful when he confirmed that they would head back to Gotham together so she didn't need to worry about catching the train alone again. With her chronic lateness public transport wasn't her favourite thing. 

She'd been joking when she'd suggested to Superman that she was going to join the Titans - okay, maybe joking wasn't the right word but it hadn't been said with any real intention - but the welcome from the team was warm and she could see herself becoming part of the group here. Bart was like an energetic puppy that was greeting his human at the end of a long day and Cassie was a sister she'd never had. 

The only thing missing was- nope, she wasn't going to think about that. As nice as having a significant other would be, she was pretty sure it wasn't going to be for a while and it almost definitely wasn't going to be the person she was currently picturing. So she distracted herself by accepting Cassie's challenge to her title of reigning champ.

_ _ _

Tim watched the others playing video games and smiled to himself. He was working through all of the data the USB had dragged from LexCorp servers and trawling to try and find evidence of the warehouses Lex was using to store weapons. He was also trying to find the link for the kryptonite but he hadn't yet worked out the codeword they used so they didn't have a record of dealing in weapons and kryptonite. 

When nothing turned up after the first half an hour, he decided to take a break to game with the others. It was fun and he could see that the cloud Marinette had been under since meeting Lex had lifted substantially. What he didn't love was that she was feeling relaxed and mischievous enough to joke about Kon again. 

“I'm just saying, of all of the boys in the Justice League, Kon is objectively the best looking,” Marinette argued. Tim and Bart groaned but Cassie was nodding. 

“I get it, you think Kon is attractive,” Tim grumbled, mashing buttons as he fought against Bart. 

“Calling him attractive is a disservice,” she sniffed, flicking some popcorn at him. He scowled at her, distracted for just long enough that Bart swept in with a combo and defeated him. “Listen, I've been around models and rockstars and none of them hold a candle to him.” 

“Marine~ette,” Tim whined, eliciting a victorious smirk from her. “I know I've been gone for the month but there's literally no reason to be like this.” 

“Who says it has anything to do with you? Can I girl not just thirst over a boy in peace anymore?” She said dramatically. Tim had relinquished the controller to Cassie and turned fully towards her. 

“You know what? I think I've had enough time off the case, I'm gonna go out and do some legwork to find the warehouse info. If I come back and you're still being ridiculous, we're going straight back to Gotham.” 

Marinette just gave him a smirk, her oversized jacket dwarfing her as she laughed at him.

_ _ _

The moment Kon entered the Tower he was ready to drop into his bed and sleep for a week. He had no clue how Tim did it, staying up well past necessary and doing it for days on end, but Kon could tell you right now that it wasn't for him. 

“Oh, hey Kon,” Cassie called from the sofa, not looking his way. “Come play with us, we're just about to start another round.” 

“I don't…” he trailed off as his eyes swept over the people sitting around the television and found Marinette sitting in their midst. She glanced at him and gave him an encouraging smile that had him moving towards her without thinking. “Just for one round, I need to catch some sleep.” 

One round turned into several and Marinette beat him soundly every time he went up against her. She leaned against him comfortably and he tried to ignore the looks Cassie and Bart were shooting the pair. It was very un-subtle when they both claimed to be tired and disappeared to their rooms but Kon was engrossed in another battle so it was up to Marinette to bid them goodnight. 

They managed to play another round or two before Kon yawned widely enough that Marinette paused the game and looked up at him. His heart sped up when she tilted her head just enough that her mouth parted slightly and- 

“I should go to- I left something in my room,” he blurted out, standing suddenly. She jumped up too, clearly startled but he had to move, to get away from the situation before he did something stupid. 

What he didn't expect was for her to follow him into his room and he didn't think to tell her not to. He didn't want to tell her not to. His mind was racing as he tried to think of something non-flirty to say. 

“What’s the plan for infiltrating LexCorp?” It was the first thought that broke through the running mantra of ‘don’t touch’. 

“Oh, I actually met with Lex today-” she began, but he interrupted almost immediately. 

“You met with Lex Luthor dressed like that? Did he have a heart attack?” Was he a gross asshole, he thought to himself and just barely managed not to say. 

“Hm?” She said, glancing down at her outfit. “I mean, I was wearing a blouse to cover up the Superboy themed camisole - I feel like I wouldn't have succeeded in my mission to avoid suspicion if I was openly repping you, but it made me more confident.” 

“Yeah?” He asked in a low voice, stepping closer to her. Her cheeks were heating up and he took a moment to let his gaze drift over her again, taking in the shorts over her fishnet tights and the tight camisole cut just a little lower than her usual tops. And to top it all off, she was wearing an oversized leather jacket that probably fit extremely well but looked like it was hanging off her. His mind was already stalling, her looking up at him while he was practically looming over her too much. 

And he was tired, exhausted, even. She looked indescribable in that damned jacket and he never claimed to be a big thinker, even fully rested and awake. That was the only way he could explain why he caved to his desires and kissed her. By the time his brain finally caught up to what was happening she had wound her arms around his neck and pulled him flush against her, at which point he stopped thinking and just let himself get lost in the moment. 

It was like she had been waiting for him to make a move and she responded to every little movement and touch. He stumbled back towards the bed, pulling her down and under him. He could feel her heart hammering and it raced harder when he slid his hand up her thigh. She broke the kiss with a gasp, hands fisted in the front of his shirt. Her lips moved along his jaw and he couldn't help the groan that slipped past his lips. 

He was distantly aware of their surroundings but most of his focus was on the lithe woman under him. He traced the edge of her shorts with a finger and she arched into him with a moan before pulling his lips back to hers with a ferocity that made him press harder into her. 

“What the hell?” 

Marinette squeaked and Kon practically threw himself backwards. No. No no no, he hadn't meant to…God, what had he been thinking? The door was suddenly open and Tim was looking at them both with anger and betrayal, and Kon felt it like a kryptonite knife to the stomach. 

“We weren't- I didn't-” 

“Jesus, Tim, you scared the life out of me,” Marinette said, face bright red. Kon actively forced his thoughts away from the fact that she looked exactly like they'd just been fooling around, her hair a complete mess and her clothes askew. “Do you not know how to knock?” 

“Is that all you have to say?” Tim demanded, and Kon wished desperately that he could take back the last…however long it had been. “You know what, it doesn't matter. Mari, get your ass out of there, it's time to go home.” 

“What? Oh come on, you can't possibly be serious-” 

“Deadly. Can you just- go get your stuff together, I need to talk to Kon.” 

Kon swallowed hard when Marinette, muttering darkly about unfairness before closing the door behind her with a snap. 

“Tim, I'm so-” 

“Save it,” Tim said harshly, scowling at the bed. “Kon, what were you thinking? Wait, let me guess, you weren’t. Mari isn't someone you can just fool around with and then move on, she's-” 

“I know, I'm sorry, I didn't…I have no excuse. I was tired and she was…” 

“Right. Look, I'll talk to her, make sure she understands that it won't happen again,” Tim said, running a hand through his hair. “I'll message you later, but maybe you should steer clear of the manor for a bit.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Kon said, both deeply confused and relieved that Tim didn't seem to be about to murder him. If their positions had been reversed he's not sure he would have been able to stop himself from smacking Tim through a wall. 

Once they were gone, Kon threw himself down onto his bed, allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts. He was ashamed of himself, even as he relived the moments between their kiss and Tim's interruption over and over again. He could faintly smell her shampoo where she had lain in his sheets and it started an internal war. One part of him was chastising him for kissing the woman his best friend was clearly in love with, for making a move when it was likely that Tim and Marinette might have been heading towards something real.

The other part was wondering what the big deal was. Sure, Tim might like her but he hadn't made a move and maybe never would. Despite any feelings he might have for the Parisian heroine, they weren't a couple. And she'd been an enthusiastic participant in their…moment. What if he had a chance at something real with her? Marinette was…singular. She was smart, pretty, strong, and she flirted back with him all the time. Should he admit how he felt to Tim? Admit that he was falling hard and fast for her and that he wanted to try? Or would that ruin their friendship beyond repair? 

He sighed and stared at the ceiling. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't risk their friendship. Which meant he needed to stop everything. No more flirting, no more casual touches, no more deep conversations on dark rooftops, full of vulnerability…no more.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Surveillance developments of the 21st century have replaced the traditional gaze of the supervisor on the industrial factory floor with an automated, digital one that continuously collects real-time data on living, breathing people. Even unionized workers do not have an explicit legal right to bargain over surveillance technologies; when it comes to the right to privacy, unions have an uphill battle to fight. We now live in a world where employees are stuck in a web of participatory surveillance because they consent to be monitored as a condition of employment. Today’s workplace surveillance practices, as in the case of Amazon, have become invasive and almost limitless. Technology has allowed employers an unprecedented ability to surveil workers. Management can minutely track and persistently push workers toward greater productivity at the risk of exacerbating harms to workers’ physical health, as the high rates of injury in Amazon warehouses show. And the growing business of selling workplace surveillance software has allowed for massive amounts of data to be collected on working people: when and who they talk to, how quickly they complete tasks, what they search for on their computers, how often they use the toilet, and even the state of their current health and moods.

[pocket-watcher]

Hello friend! I have a request, please!

Betrayal. Specifically, one of the hero’s sidekicks had previously been kidnapped by a villain and hypnotized to lead the rest of the group into a trap. They’ve been brainwashed to the core, and now that the rest of the group is trapped, the villain can finally take them as well, their loving, hypnotized pet sidekick at their side. Smiling. Maybe they even lightheartedly apologize to their doomed friends. Lots of resistance attempts and “snap out of it!” stuff.

Hi friend!! This is such a deliciously evil concept, you mastermind. I hope this does it justice…

Day number 57 since a member of the team had been captured by the villains.

And man, it was just eating up everyone inside.

Lacey had giant bags under her eyes, Hank had gone through the security footage at least 100 times, and me?

I was… fine.

I mean, I’d be better if we had Petey back, but, it was fine. I was fine.

“You don’t look so good, Elle.” Lacey put her hand on my shoulder.

“Really? Because I feel great! Super, even. Aha, pun intended.” I laughed weakly, before clearing my throat.

The warehouse echoed with it.

We’d ran the data. And then ran it two more times. Petey was here, all we needed to do was our jobs.

We just had to save him.

Hank scanned the room and gestured for us to move forward. Stopping and scanning, every few feet, until he faulted for a moment.

“…Petey…?” He said, with relief, running out into the open.

The man tackled Petey into a bear hug.

“Oh thank the lord.” Hank mumbled into his shoulder.

Lacey stood back whilst I joined the two.

“What happened? Are you okay? Where were you?” I asked, checking his face for any distress.

No new wounds, that was good.

“I’m okay.” He said, truth in his eyes. “I promise you I’m okay. I’m just happy to see you guys again.” Petey was smiling between the two of us, when his face turned to confusion.

“Lacey?” Petey asked.

She was still hanging back.

“I’m just… this feels a bit too convenient, right?”

We all stared blankly at her.

“Lacey, I’m fine -“

“How did you escape? How are you even standing in front of us, we all know that -“

Her voice broke.

We all know that hostages don’t make it out alive.

“Can’t you just be grateful?” Hank shoved her shoulder. “You always gotta be some sorta conspiracy theorist.”

“Guys, enough.” I yelled. “Let’s go home, come on.”

I grabbed Petey’s hand to walk out the door when -

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that.”

Petey’s feet were planted on the floor. He was smiling, sweetly at me.

I looked at him in confusion.

“You wanted to know how I escaped? I didn’t.”

His tone was all wrong. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

That was when Lacey shifted into a fighting stance, when Hank staggered backwards, and I pushed Petey behind me to see someone walking out of the shadows.

A villain.

“Ah, so these must be your friends?” The voice asked.

“You stay away from him.” I growled.

“Petey, be a good boy and come here, won’t you?”

I watched as Petey, without a hint of resistance, casually joined the villain at their side.

Lacey’s teeth were bared. Hank looked broken.

“How could you?!” Hank yelled.

“Don’t blame dear Petey, he was just doing what I told him. And now he’s brought me some new toys to break in.”

I started at that. I had to get Petey away from this monster. Away from whatever was making him act this way.

The other two jumped into action, ducking and dodging the villain’s attacks.

“Come on Petey!” I yelled, being batted away from him by a large mechanical arm that had sprung from who knows where. It tried to pin me down, but I wrestled. “Fight it!!”

Hank went flying past me.

Petey stood there, smiling, muttering something. I read his lips.

“Just give in. It feels so good. Stay with me.”

I shook my head and snapped the robotic arm, throwing what I had at the villain to distract them from Lacey.

“I know you’re still in there Petey! Just hang on, I’m coming.” I started, before I felt arms pulling me back.

Except this time, they were human.

“Hank?! What the hell are you doing?? Let me go!”

He had some sort of helmet on him, controlling him.

This must be what they did to Petey, I thought.

I turned to see Lacey’s terrified eyes lock with mine as she too had a helmet forced onto her.

I pleaded with Petey. He smiled warmly at me.

“Don’t be sad. We’re together again.”

He walked over to me and carefully placed the helmet on my head.

And I dropped.

[misfitwashere]

Does anyone need more proof that Trump is fronting for the oligarchs and doesn't give a shite about workers?

ROBERT REICH

JAN 29

Friends,

In his ongoing rampage against the laws of the land, Trump yesterday fired National Labor Relations Board acting chair Gwynne Wilcox — despite her congressional appointment not being up until 2028.

Wilcox’s firing closes down the NLRB because it’s left with just two members, and the Supreme Court has ruled that the Board needs at least three to issue any rulings.

Trump also fired NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo, leaving Board attorneys who investigate employee and employer complaints without any guidance. 

Presto — American workers are no longer protected from illegal firings or unfair labor practices by their employers. The National Labor Relations Act of 1935 is effectively gone. Employers can now reek havoc on their workers. 

Of course, most employers are already doing this, but at least the threat of unionization kept some from blatant bullying.

The backstory here is about power. 

Score another one for the oligarchs. 

Across America big corporations are treating their hourly workers like shite. Unions are about the only countervailing economic force and one of the last remaining political forces pushing for worker health and safety. 

But the latest data (out Tuesday) shows that unionized workers continue to lose ground — now down to under 10 percent of the workforce. 

This suits the American oligarchy just fine. As I’ve noted, Trump their frontman.

Elon Musk, the richest person in the world and key Trump advisor — who over the years has compiled a truck load of violations from the N.L.R.B., including firing workers who tried to form a union, and who kept his Tesla plant open during the pandemic in violation of state law — says he’s “opposed to the idea of unions.” 

Billionaire oligarch Jeff Bezos, the second-richest person in America, who also stood prominently before Trump when he was sworn in January 20, has been waging an unrelenting war on Amazon’s warehouse workers. (When workers in a Quebec warehouse recently voted to unionize, Bezos responded by having the company order the closure of every Amazon warehouse in the province.)

Amazon owns Whole Foods. On Monday, workers in a Philadelphia Whole Foods market voted to unionize. Bezos is already taking aim. 

An overwhelming majority of working-class people — especially men without college degrees, who form the bulk of hourly workers in Musk’s Tesla and Bezos’s Amazon — voted for Trump on November 5. 

There are really two questions here: 

(1) How much more proof does the American working class need that Trump is not on their side but on the side of the oligarchs, who are siphoning more and more of the nation’s wealth from working people to themselves? 

(2) When will Democrats have the backbone to tell this to working-class Americans, and come down firmly against the oligarchy?

[reality-detective]

"World Patriots, Rejoice: The Deep State's Second Pandemic Plot Unravels!"

Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Patriots and Freedom Fighters, this is a moment to celebrate, for your unyielding spirit has once again triumphed against the shadowy deep state and their globalist agenda.

Your voices, your unshakable commitment to the truth, have played a pivotal role in exposing the hidden agenda, thereby thwarting the second planned pandemic and subsequent lockdowns. The globalist deep state has been forced to abandon their malevolent scheme thanks to the MASSIVE AWAKENING INFORMATION CAMPAIGN!

Across more than 100 nations, their sinister plan has crumbled, with fewer than 5% of Americans succumbing to their booster shot agenda. Across the globe, consensus has been reached that the world refuses to bow to new lockdowns, and most now see a sinister elite agenda lurking behind the pandemic, vaccines, and lockdowns. Moreover, nations are awakening to the stark corruption undermining their two-tier governments, suppressing human rights, and censoring freedom of speech!

"Secret Vaxx Warehouses - A Billion-Dollar Fiasco"

Behind closed doors, the colossal failure of vaccine storage and distribution unfolds. Warehouses across the globe are overflowing, and the blunders are costing BlackRock and others hundreds of billions as vaccines languish without proper storage and cooling. Quietly, these vaccines are being destroyed, making this revelation a powerful testament to our fight against the deep state cabal.

"The Power of the Great Awakening"

This moment signifies a monumental victory against the deep state cabal and underscores the potency of the Great Awakening, spreading like wildfire worldwide. Your voices are the antidote to the deep state's lies, overcoming mainstream media misinformation, social media censorship, government suppression, and globalist narratives.

"Deep State Panic and the WW3 Scheme"

As the globalist cabal panics, they endeavor to concoct a WW3 scenario to fuel their illicit money laundering operations, extracting trillions from the U.S., EU, Canada, Australia, Israel, and the puppet Ukrainian regime controlled by the CIA. But their war machinations have crumbled as Ukraine's regime, feeling betrayed and abandoned, admits defeat.

"Israeli Civil War Looms"

Behind the curtains in Israel, the military plans to remove Netanyahu, paving the way for tribunals. A civil war looms, scheduled for 2024, as over 80% of Israelis lose faith in their government. White hat military strategists are preparing intricate Game Theory Operations for a bloodless military coup.

"Revelations Await in 2024"

In 2024, brace for groundbreaking revelations as military white hats and courageous individuals in the medical, government, and the broader pharmaceutical industry unleash hidden data on vaccine tests, fatalities, damages, and the corrupt agendas of global investment giants such as BlackRock, who manipulated, bribed, blackmailed, and laundered money to push through COVID-19 vaccines.

"Global Riots and Protests"

A wave of worldwide unrest will sweep through the streets, targeting the establishment in the medical, big pharma, big tech, and industries entwined with governments, presidents, and regimes beholden to globalist agendas and control. The depopulation agenda will cease to be a conspiracy, as the U.S. Congress launches investigations, intersecting with the 2024 election interference and the previous 2020 election meddling.

"A Planned Military Coup?"

This looming storm will be masterfully framed by the white hats as a meticulously orchestrated military coup engineered by the globalists, in collusion with the likes of Obama, the CIA, Pentagon, and the DOJ, extending its reach to the European Union, Canada, Australia, and the rest of the world.

Remember, Patriots, everything converges towards Q.

"Trust the Plan, Military Is the Only Way"

Place your trust in the plan, for the military stands as the only bastion against the encroaching darkness.

The revolution is imminent

- David Wilcock 🤔

[5kindsofmagic]

Another Brush With The Reaper

[The following is reconstructed from audio logs, neurohelmet scans, black box data from KGC-0000 serial number 9035768 and interviews with the pilot]

Location: [data corrupted], Tortuga Dominion

Date: [data corrupted] April 3022

Next target. Track the movement. clickThoomph the muffled sound of an AC20 in vacuum as a Stinger's side is wrenched apart by the impact. Next target. Track. clickThoomph A Locust goes facefirst into the surface of this airless rock from suddenly missing a leg.

Jordan still hasn't stood back up since that Hunchback got a lucky shot that blew out his Marauder's knee. A lucky shot, on Magpie... they really were going to die here. At least he had quickly returned the favor with this King Crab's left autocannon, detonating the Hunchback's ammo bin in a violent flash. He pushed his teammate's mech into a warehouse and turned to hold the door. The walls would at least block line of sight, even if these pirates could still shoot through if they wanted. Didn't matter. Had to hold the line. Had to buy time for Shandra and Cookie to take over that Scout-class jumpship these pirates were using. Had to keep sending souls to oblivion ahead of him to keep the jaws of the Reaper from clamping down around his throat.

Another Stinger tries to make a jump across the doorway. Track. clickThoomph They needed at least 2 seconds to steady themselves at the end of a jump in this gravity. Plenty of time to line up an autocannon and send a round into their center. He didn't even watch the metal crumple, already checking his sensors for his next target. That Thunderbolt earlier had melted almost all the armor and half his cameras off the head of his assault mech with its large laser, but he would make do.

Another runby, a warning alarm as his mech's right arm is finally torn off by a pack of srms. Fire the left one, then. Destroy the javelin for its impertinence. Redirect the ammo feed to the remaining autocannon. He still had the laser on that side to use. The cockpit is starting to feel like an ocean of boiling blood is rising up to his neck. The shadowy tendrils of oblivion writhing at the edges of his vision, lashing out with each pull of the trigger to snare another soul to feed the reaper looming just behind him.

clickThoomph "Ammo Depleted" No, not NOW. The reaper steps closer to him, hovering just behind his command chair. "Magpie, please get up. I could really use some help here," he calls desperately into the comms, trying to wake his friend. A shadowhawk rounds the corner. He lashes out with the heavy legs of the assault mech that he had only gotten into for the first time today, but was looking more and more like it would be his tomb. The medium's knee snaps, and he quickly follows up with a stomp to the head to finish it.

"Magpie... Jordan, I need you!" Another call to the mechwarrior behind he that he couldn't even turn to check on. What was that on sensors? Oh no, seismic like that had to be an assault. What had they missed? Whatever it was it would not be good, not with his King Crab in this condition. He got his answer as a Stalker crashed through the wall to his left, lasers and srms tearing off the left side of his mech's torso and the arm with it. The jaws of the reaper were open wide now like a great beast. Ivory fangs visible in all 4 corners of his vision now as it prepared to swallow him whole.

A bright spark flashes from the stalker's cockpit and the mech slumps. The suprise of it makes the reaper retreat in bewilderment as a voice crackles over the comms, "Hey Buddy, miss me?" Turning his mech to the left, Jack almost laughs as he sees the Marauder propping itself up on one arm, the barrel of the gauss still appearing to waver from the energy radiating away.

"I hope you still have some ammo left in there." The heat in his cockpit is finally starting to bleed away during this short repreive.

"Nope, that was my last one. Grab one of those steel beams and muzzle load me," comes the mirthful reply. Only Magpie could sound so jovial in a situation like this.

"Magpie, I don't have claws right now. Just prop yourself up on one of those containers and watch your sensors. I don't know how many of them are left, but we have to keep them from reaching that last dropship. Still haven't heard from Shandra if they've captured the jumpship or not."

[end data feed]

[freebooter4ever]

Despite my continued stomach/digestive issues that is making it damn hard to eat, the increased exercise has almost entirely lifted my intense depressive episode and im almost feeling 'normal' again (which is definitely helping with this letter that im spending two days writing lmao). But i keep going back to that idea of people seeing me happy vs when i am truly 'happy'. For the past year that's mostly revolved around three things: 1) voluntering at the museum - usually interacting with guests, answering questions, getting to talk at length about this history i love, seeing guests get equally as excited and enthusiastic about the place as i do. 2) hockey. I know. This is still weird to me too that i ended up liking sports. But this summer i have definitely missed that vicarious high of watching things play out live good or bad. The charity games were cute and fun to watch but without the suspense and thrill of rooting for something with thousands of others at the same time it didn't quite cut it. On the other hand i've been using hockey as a carrot like 'i need to get a job so i can afford hockey tickets!' which is silly but its better than...imagining the painful reality of what will happen if i dont have a new job by this fall. I work better by thoughts of reward than under threat. If i do manage to land something soon i promise i'll end up in pittsburgh for a game at some point - that and visiting grandma are equal priority. 3) staring at geno's face and drawing or sculpting him. Im trying not to think too hard about this one.

And now another. 4) walking around the studio's manufacturing warehouse. I promised myself on sunday that i would play it cool, be professional, dont geek out over everything. I did not do that. I was grinning the entire time, i literally could not stop myself from smiling i was so excited. I think i said 'wow' and 'that's so cool!' a lot, too much maybe. At the end of the very in depth tour during which i asked so many questions i felt like a kid, the guy told me he was going to go back inside and 'work on some programming' before he left. And pushing my luck i was all 'i know with NDA stuff this might not be possible but could i just watch???'. And he tried to insist it would be boring but i promised him i absolutely would find it fascinating. Partially because i knew he wasn't talking about my kind of programming - scripted languages, machine code instruction - he was talking about some kind of interface programming. And sure enough he showed me the sine waves and explained a little how to generate them from data or how to create them from scratch, all as he was working on the model. And i was just sitting there enraptured.

so that was sunday. Supposed to be last tuesday, then moved to saturday, then finally sunday...but well worth the wait.