#How to Negotiate UN Contract

[businessabroad]

United Nations Steps and Contract Negotiation #7

Seal the Deal: Mastering Contract Negotiations at the UN

Stepping into the United Nations might seem daunting, but what happens when you get through the door? "United Nations Steps and Contract Negotiation #7" is your insider's guide to understanding the pivotal stages of becoming part of this global organization.

Contract negotiations can be a game-changer in your career. This video is your mentor, unpacking the essentials of negotiating your UN contract. Learn to articulate your value, negotiate effectively, and steer clear of common pitfalls.

Whether you dream of working in peacekeeping, development, or any other UN field, mastering the art of negotiation is key. Join us as we reveal the strategies to help you secure the UN position and contract that fit your career goals.

#UNContractNegotiation #CareerAdvice #GlobalImpactJobs

Here are all the videos in this course.

The Benefits of Working at the United Nations

UN Duty Station: What it is and What you Can Expect

The Process of Getting A Job at the United Nations

How to Apply For A Job At The United Nations

United Nations Levels and Salary - What are they?

Type of Contract at the United Nations

United Nations Steps and Contract Negotiation

United Nations Jobs, Job Role, and Posting Locations

UN Job Opportunities - How to Increase Your Odds

Best Places for Your Family to Live

How are you Competing Against

United Nations Official Languages

This is What the UN's Application Process is Like

How to success your test at the United Nations

Before Passing Your Interview at the United Nations

How to Successfully Interview For a Competency-Based Job

List of Questions used in Competency-Based Interview

What to do After the Interview at the United Nations

[chasedeys]

HI OKAY so like. in honor of these boyfriends sticking together by the grace of god and just sheer fucking stubbornness and taking matters into their own hands (sooooo sexy and also incredibly leaning to the power-of-friendship ass of them btw) and also because i feel sooo shitty for disappearing all of the sudden and ignoring a whole bunch of you </3 (thank you truly for all the sweet messages in my inbox asking me where and how ive been god yall are so sweet) and also it's such a fucking waste of 7k word vomit if i do end up not finishing this thing and i really do want to finish this but im lacking creative juices and honestly just shit time management but anyways. i present to you the mess of joeteemarr fic in its barely finished glory:

(DOOOO PRAYYY THAT I FINISH ITTTTT (i am on my knees) in spite of all the spoilers (?) you'll read through so it'd be like why the hell would you read this again kind of deal but well ahahahah just let me post this and look away okay 😭♥️)

all on his mouth like liquor —joeteemarr

intro — you came, you saw, you conquered // i couldn’t take my eyes off him, i think i heard a spirit call my name (banana yoshimoto, kitchen)

They’re both still in their leather ensemble—’so, did you coordinate the outfits, or?’ ‘ja’marr copied me.’ ‘excuse me? bitch, i’ll kill you.’—like they zoomed their way to Tee’s place immediately right after the game, after stopping by Judith’s for their usual order of burgers and fries.

Tee pokes at his own order of bacon burger, double helping of cheddar cheese and extra garlic, a wobbly little smile poking through when he spots the lovingly sharpied good game 5! the extra pies are for you!!!! don’t let uno eat them!!!!!!!!! on the crinkly wrapping paper. Judith, Cincinnati native, 57 years old and never takes money from Tee’s mother. Thinks Ja’Marr is the funniest man-child on earth and Joe the sweetest.

Ja’Marr has his jacket off now, tank top stretched tight over his shoulders as he slumps over his burgers snarling at Joe to stop stealing his fries. Tee carefully turns his gaze away from dark of his tattoos, the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he tries to smack away Joe’s hand right over his burger.

But the thing is, if he looks away, he’s looking towards Joe—Joe, who’s leather jacket with nothing underneath is zipped down to his navel for some godforsaken reason, miles of pale skin and abs and golden hair and pink nipples flashing everytime he twists his torso to try and take Ja’Marr’s entire dinner or avoid his retaliations. Tee has to take away Ja’Marr’s plastic fork before he stabs Joe with it.

(They didn’t coordinate the outfits, by the way. They just ended up wearing something similar again with their weird otherworldly connection that Tee still tries to wrap his head around even now.)

—----------ja’marrs drops. sensitive,dfksdfkapoeskfo

Ja’Marr skirts his eyes away, mouth curling down, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll deal with it Monday.”

Tee breathes out, extends his knee and presses his socked toes to the younger man’s calves. Ja’Marr twitches his leg against his feet, flicking his eyes at him and shooting him a small smile. He’ll be alright.

“No,” Ja’Marr says evenly, staring right at him even as he slams a hand at Joe’s over his plate, “but you were really fucking sexy.”

Tee startles, several clumps of mashed up potato slipping out of his mouth in surprise—real sexy, there. Ja’Marr really has no filter sometimes, calling any person he finds attractive to their faces with zero shame even in front of his boyfriend of however many years. Joe, ever so possessive, rarely even gets bricked up over it, from sheer assurance of his place in Ja’Marr’s heart. Hard not to be, really, with how steadfast and loud Ja’Marr is with his devotion to him. Tee has been called straight up ‘hot as hell’ by the other man for the past years that they’ve known each other and he still gets flustered over it, mostly because. Well. Whatever.

Joe turns his gaze to him as well, pausing his one-man crusade of pilfering his boyfriend’s fries. Tee slows his bites as he stares back, feeling weirdly caught like a prey in a predator’s gaze, a gazelle looking through the tan of the savanna landscape trying to find the glint of a lion’s eyes lurking in between the blades of grass. Joe’s piercing blues flick between his eyes, then slides down, slow, deliberate, purposeful, over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the turn of his chin, the hinge of his jaw still clenched from chewing the meat they bought for him, his—neck exposed by the stretched cotton of his ratty t-shirt, the tangle of his beard, the slight of his Adam’s apple, the nearly healed scar on the left side of his jugular from last week’s razor incident, even the loose hang of his faded clemson t-shirt over his shoulders, the dip of it showing off the skin over his collarbones, not too much to show his pecs, but the sheer force of the older man’s leer makes him—makes him push his fucking tits out like he can’t fucking help himself; shoulders, drawing back; spine, straightening; nipples, pebbling, fucking tingling; goosebumps and hair rising over his arms; toes, curling in—he knows each and every part of his body Joe looks over because the man’s so fucking methodical with it, everything else below his chest hidden beneath the table thank fuck, he thinks, of sorts, maybe, a blessing, a curse, who knows, he’s still trying to chew on his fucking bite of bacon burger the fuck.

Tee chokes on his late swallow—and drinks the puply orange Ja’Marr offers him with an obvious smirk holy shit what the ever living fuck. 

Joe goes back to eating his burger like he didn’t just. Undress Tee with his fucking eyes. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Holy shit did he just experience a junior high schooler’s fantastical imaginary eighth grade period axe body spray doped up version of sex daydream or is he just. Insane. Was the burger spiked. What the fuck was that. 

Tee feels his lips twitch. Wow. They’re really—unsubtle. But, are they, really?

“

—And Ja’Marr growls. Tee startles, laughing up at him, but it’s all cut off short because, wait, holy shit—-

He’s got a lapful of Ja’Marr Chase, situating his ass snugly all over Tee’s thighs with his own folded on either side of his hips, arms up so he can press his palms on his cheeks, wrapping all the way to the back of his skull because they’re so big, and kiss him.

“Jesus Christ, Ja’Marr,” he hears through muddied ears. Joe, he knows his voice, always, but—everything is—muffled, dark, consumed to a single person over him 

He flutters his eyes open and gasps out trying to push air into his lungs and Ja’Marr’s face is right there in front of him—eyes piercing into his own as he purposefully bumps his nose to Tee’s and breathes into Tee’s gaping open mouth.

Fucking hell.

“Ja’Marr,” he breathes out, panic mounting—and: dick hardening in his sweatpants because Ja’Marr fucking Chase is all over his lap grinding down, arms around his shoulders, pretty face right up to his with deep brown eyes staring him down intently—hands trembling, acutely aware that his boyfriend of six fucking years is staring right at them from across the room, still stealing said boyfriend’s fries. That fucking heifer, jesus, his diet always goes out the window in the 24-hour window of post-game leftover adrenaline rush.

Ja’Marr—his best friend, the prettiest motherfucker he’s ever had the pleasure of—doesn’t even do him the honor of replying, lips stretching wide into a pleased smile and keeps bumping his nose to Tee’s over and over like it’s a little game to him. It’s ridiculously cute—the minute touches, the way Tee has to go cross-eyed to see it, the weight of him all over, the heady scent of warm wood basking him, it calms him down, lowers his heart rate, settles his breathing, makes his eyelids flutter, trying to keep himself from closing the distance and kiss the man again, seems terribly unfair to just—only have a single chance in his life to kiss Ja’Marr Chase once when he’s still inches away with his body language so open and willing. Joe, to the side, still fucking eating, not even acting offended even the slightest past the minute exasperated jesus christ, ja’marr, shoots him a weird dorky thumbs-up. The hell.

“You’re—“ Tee chokes out finally, acutely aware of every point of his palm pressed against the cotton wrapped around his best friend’s waist. Acutely aware of how his fingers are twitching, wanting, aching—to grip tighter, to drag downwards and under the hemline and then roughly up the warmth of skin, scrub at the expanse of it available and feel it shiver against the skin of his own palm. The only reason he doesn’t is because every joint, every muscle, every tendon in his body is locked up in, what, fear? Sheer desperate want? A man collapsed inches away from an oasis appearing out of nowhere  in a once barren desert, heat pouring over his body and making everything wobbly and blurry—his vision actually going a bit blurry because—

Fuck it all to hell, if he cries in Ja’Marr Chase’s face  just because he kissed him he’s killing himself and taking everyone with him.

Ja’Marr coos, pretty face closing in again and Tee automatically flutters his eyes shut just for the other man to press his lips softly against the thin skin of his left eyelid, keep dragging them along his lashes, letting his liquid tears seep into the crevice of his lips and pool around the corner of his lips, over the bridge of his nose, again to his right eye, and down to the highest point of his cheek—just to press harder and leave a wet imprint from his own tears.

God, Ja’Marr fucking Chase.

“You really gotta say something,” Tee squeezes out harshly, eyes squeezed shut tight and trying to breathe through his nose.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” is what Ja’Marr says, thumb brushing away the wet spots on his cheeks. Which. Well. Maybe Tee should’ve just told him to shut the fuck up and get off of him before he does something he’d regret, like—like kiss him again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again, over, and over, and over, and over until he drops dead because he’d never grow tired of it, he doesn’t think.

“I see,” Tee says, not really seeing. He knows he’s ’fucking gorgeous’ but come one now, really.

Ja’Marr grins bright right up against his face, of course knowing what Tee’s not saying.

Joe leans down, nudging his boyfriend to the side, hunching over the two, tucks a palm to the side of Tee’s neck, all nine inches of it spanning across his skin like a hot brand, and kisses him too.

Tee breathes into his mouth, doesn’t even know how to kiss back, flabbergasted as he is, weighted down by his best friend on his lap, a hand on his neck that might as well feel like a noose, buzzing in his ears, a match of want being struck in him and he doesn’t know if it’s by him or if it’s actually the people he wants.

Joe hums against his mouth, lips turning down, “you’re not kissing me back,”

He’s actually fucking pouting against Tee’s mouth, Tee realizes. He doesn’t even want to let go of the kiss to speak, doesn't want to pout away from Tee’s lips. Oh god. What is Tee doing. 

Tee surges up, arms clenching around Ja’Marr’s waist, teeth tugging at Joe’s bottom lip, and kisses his quarterback right this time, feels him stretch his lips to a smile even as he licks into Tee’s mouth and sighs into the kiss. He’s relaxing his shoulders, drooping down, evening out—he was tense, he was worried, neck veins slightly popping, Tee realizes. This was important to him. Tee kissing him back—was important. To him. 

Oh.

Tee sighs into the kiss, too, relaxes and licks into the space he’s being granted access into, for the first time ever.

Ja’Marr gets handsy, apparently pleased as a peach at the grip Tee has on his waist. He presses his knees harder to the sides of Tee’s hips and grinds his hips down on his lap, palms exploring his torso all over, nails dragging across his nipples over the cotton of his shirt, face all over the skin exposed by the stretched elastic of his t-shirt’s neckline, tonguing his neck, his collarbone, biting his pulsepoint and making him gasp into Joe’s mouth.

next steps — i swell like a late summer jackfruit; my skin roughens, the pulp of my body so thick; i wait to be speared and wanted; if squeezed, i’ll leave my color on your hands (hồ xuân hương, jackfruit)

Joe pushes his back firmly and he follows through blindly. It’s his house, but Joe knows exactly where eveything is and he trusts literally anywhere this man leads him to, and, also, he’s really fucking distracted by this:

Ja’Marr bites at his chin, right by his beard, and Tee gasps—he’s a freak, what is with him, why is that so fucking hot—and he keeps tugging on the strings of Tee’s sweatpants, fingers brushing deliberately over the tent in his pants, then straight up cupping and squeezing his dick through the cotton when Joe makes them stop to turn a corner. Tee has to just shove the little shit towards the wall, press his head hard against it, and sloppily kiss his mouth to teach him some sort of lesson of some success god what is Tee trying to accomplish here Ja’Marr is so fucking—

An arm—Joe—circles his waist, pushing forcefully between the miniscule space between his belly and Ja’Marr’s and wrenches him back from the other receiver. He whines, fingers scrabbling at his best friend—”Wait! No!”—while Ja’Marr is just laughing and tilting his head back into the wall as he grins teasingly at their quarterback, “what, jealous?”

Joe reaches out and twists his left nipple through his tank top. Ja’Marr yelps and starts yelling expletives at him. Tee, leaning back into Joe’s embrace, sighs exasperatedly. Of course they’re doing this, even now.

Ja’Marr steps closer, trying to smack at Joe through Tee, and Tee puts his hands on his biceps to stop him—gets distracted, starts sliding his hands up and down the length of them because, fuck, how can he not, and then just grabs them and tugs him closer to kiss him all over again with Joe’s arm between their bodies. Man, whatever.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, pressed up all against his back, but he really can’t be all that pissed, because he’s mouthing all up Tee’s neck—what is with him and necks, jesus, 

He’s shivering, caught in the middle, Joe in front, Ja’Marr behind, hands all over him, standing up but he’s falling, stumbling but he’s being held up. There’s a boy in front of him, and there’s a boy behind him, and who is he but another boy asking to be loved and held.

He’s leaning back to Ja’Marr’s chest now, tilted to the side so he can turn his face and kiss him still, the other man’s hand spanning across his face pinning him to place as he presses his tongue into his mouth and moans into it, as loud as he always is anywhere else. Another mouth is all over his chest, tonguing at his nipples, teeth scraping over the dark of his tattoos, panting all over him like a dog, god.

He doesn’t wear boxers at home, and the two know that precisely, Joe stroking his cock through the cotton of sweatpants like it isn’t even there, the grey fabric getting soaked through. He lowers his mouth over it, eyes looking straight up at Tee and asks if he could. Tee nods frantically, not even knowing what the fuck he wants but it’s Joe Burrow, he could do whatever he wants to Tee and Tee would lay in his arms like a supplicant and rip his chest open all pretty and bloody and let Joe Burrow dip his chin in and lap it all up.

He whimpers into Ja’Marr’s mouth, fluttering open his eyes, eyelashes clumpy with tears, sweat, he doesn’t know, and Ja’Marr coos, brushing kisses over his eyes as he drags his palms all over Tee’s belly, scraping nails over his pubes and pressing down in time with Joe going down on him like he knows the exact rhythm of Joe’s every move and plan, even here, even now, even over the sweat and smell of sex of Tee’s body—especially, Tee thinks, over his body.

that’s one — makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips on my neck, and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars (richard siken, crush)

Ja’Marr breathes into his ear, biting at the helix and scraping his teeth over it like a dog. Tee whimpers, turning his head to catch his mouth in his and clack their teeth together, a shock of pain grounding him to earth so he wouldn’t float up to the heavens too high. Ja’Marr huffs out a laugh against his lips, “Knock it off, dickhead, I know what you’re doing.”

Tee scowls at him, hands tightening on Joe’s hair instead of reaching out to twist and pinch on his skin, like punishing one of them is the same as punishing the other, really, an extension of a singular subject. Joe groans around his cock, extremely pleased, of fucking course he is, and Tee keeps tugging at his roots in exasperation. Fucking masochistic little shit.

Ja’Marr snickers, dragging his tongue all over his neck, “See, natural Joe Burrow knower. Made just for him—to be his receiver, just like me.”

Ja’Marr, honestly, why the fuck is he like this—

Joe and Tee both groan in unison, Tee coming off it in a whine because, fuck, Joe’s mouth is still all up around his dick, the vibrations traveling up straight to his brain and fucking him up beyond repair.

Joe pulls off with an actual wet pop! and twists a hand harshly around his cock—which feels really fucking good, the fuck—like an apology that he isn’t sucking Tee’s dick continuously since he got the chance to, and pushes his torso up to prop his face by Tee’s head, cheeks pressed up against his, chin digging into his shoulder, and he can feel him kiss Ja’Marr rough and wet, with tongue and spit and biting at his lips.

Fucking helllll, they’re trying to kill him.

The man still twisting his hand around his cock like he’s getting paid to presses his cheek harder against Tee’s, and he’s jawing at Ja’Marr, Tee realizes with a breathless laugh—”Would you quit saying shit like that so shamelessly midsex it ruins the fucking vibe.” “What fucking vibe? If anything I’m adding to it, bitch, get back to sucking his dick, the fuck.”—and Joe slinks back down right after like he didn’t just stop mid-blowjob to argue with Ja’Marr over the receiver’s uncensored prattling.

Tee whimpers, Joe’s mouth enveloping his cock again like it’s made for it, all heat and tightness and perfect 

how do you write people getting their dick sucked. exactly. no really.

ja'marr lets him breathe but he's instantly kissing down his neck and biting his collarbones and pushing him down and dragging a tongue over his chest tattoos he's /relentless/ and when he looks to where joe is its to him grinning down at him with a hand guiding ja'marr /down/ 'that's one. you got me three right?'

“That’s one,” Joe says, his little impish smile Tee has recorded into his brain countless of times before shining down at him, lips dark red, chin and mouth all wet with Tee’s spunk, “You gave me three.”

“Three what,” Tee asks, stupidly, ears still ringing from the force of his orgasm. He’s still so focused on the bright wet glint of liquid decorating Joe’s lower face, his come, staining his skin. Joe isn’t wiping it away, letting it dry on his skin, flaking and caking and clumping against the corner of his lips. Tee wants to lick it away, drag it into his mouth with his tongue, switch it up and leave bite marks all around his pretty lips. All the red in the cold, now red from his teeth. Would Joe let him. Would Ja’Marr let him. Would he let himself mark that pale skin up, leave parts of himself all over his quarterback in ways he’s never had the guts to even finish the thought of before tonight?

Joe leans closer, mouth over him, damn the fact that Tee’s own come is all over his mouth now. Three, Joe murmurs as he kisses him filthily, sliding his tongue through the gap of his teeth, over his papillae, staining his breath with something of his own. Tee wants a shot of Joe’s own come down his throat, drenching the lining of his esophagus. The thought makes his moan, makes him choke into Joe’s throat, and the older man swallows him whole. 

Fuck, three—do they—are they trying to get him to come three times, the same amount of times he caught Joe’s pass for a touchdown? Christ. He’s getting lightheaded.

He laughs incredulously, flicking his eyes down to Ja’Marr mouthing incessantly at his navel, teeth scraping along the black lines of his tattoos, exactly like he said he wanted too. Makes Tee woozy with want, how Ja’Marr gets needy and desperate for it, thirsting over Tee’s body. How many times has he stared at him naked? Tattoos bared and thought to put his mouth on him? Drag a finger down the lines of stars on his stomach? He has never once caught Ja’Marr’s eyes on them—how sneaky had the other man been?

Joe’s hand is right on the younger man’s head like a brand, like he can’t bear to let go. on his head guiding him

, then back to the blond still staring him down. His smile is just as mischievous as it always is. Are they going to take turns, now? That’s the hottest shit he’s ever thought of, probably.

“What,” he can’t help but say, scoffing and teasing Ja’Marr, reaching a hand to tug on his ear and scratch at his cheek because he’s so fucking fond of this man he can’t keep it in, really, “you looking to suck me off too?”

Ja’Marr tugs on his dick, his sensitive dick—bitch—and Tee hisses at him, stopping his loving scritches to outright pinch at his ear because never the fuck he minds, this man is such a fucking brat, he can’t put this guard down at all.

The younger man jerks his head away, laughing. He grins up at Tee, teeth bright and eyes even brighter. “Nah, I don’t like shit down my throat. Wanna fuck me instead?”

Tee chokes on his spit. He blacks out, he thinks, by the question alone. By the idea alone. By the thought alone. His brain tries conjuring images and then it just short circuits. Where is he. Who is he. Why is he.

His head gets cradled, pulled to the side by a hand and he’s being kissed by a smiling mouth, pulled back down to earth slowly and surely until he’s kissing back voluntarily instead of on autopilot. Joe, hand pressed to his cheek and eyes wide open even as he’s stealing Tee’s breath away by kissing him sweetly and thoroughly. What a freak. Who kisses with their eyes wide open. Joe Fucking Burrow, that’s who. His quarterback who threw him three touchdowns and tried biting his neck on national television. Posted on every NFL official social media accounts and sent to him by his high school friends with the words bruh u fucking ur qb??? Which he apparently is, now. 

“He asked you a question,” Joe murmurs against his lips. Right. Sure.

Tee looks down to his lap and, damn, what a fucking image. Ja’Marr Chase, laying belly down on his bed with his torso half over Tee’s thighs, a hand curled loosely around his sensitive dick, the other holding his hand—when did that happen, Tee is squeezing it tight unconsciously and now he can’t let go even if he tried—cheek pressed to his left thigh looking up at him with his pupils blown wide open waiting patiently for Tee to look at him.

Right.

“You get to choose,” Ja’Marr says when he notices he’s got Tee’s attention. He tugs at Tee’s soft cock again—

“It’s not a toy,” Tee yelps, his unoccupied hand automatically curling around the other receiver’s hand around his dick.

Ja’Marr just grins wider up at him, unsticking his cheek from his thigh to press a kiss on the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You get to choose,” he says again, “Fuck my ass or my thighs?”

Tee lets out a sound only audible to dogs and dolphins and aliens 900 billion light years away, probably. Ja’Marr smiles up at him, looking so shily pleased that he can reduce Tee to such a state by just asking a simple question. He has no fucking business looking so sweetly enamored up at Tee after asking if he would rather fuck him in the ass or his thighs.

He’s jostled around again, Joe tugging at his hips to the side so Ja’Marr can haul his ass up to sit by them. This seems to be a theme, with these two, pushy on the field and off the field and in the bedroom—he can’t even say he’s never even thought of it,  Burrow-Chase dynamic duo, in whatever form, whatever shape, whatever way he can have them. In his dreams only, he thought, but. But.

Ja’Marr is spreading open the hand he’s kept on holding since god knows when—like an emotional support hand holding he’s got to keep a hold on to get through sex and that thought genuinely fucks Tee up in ways he’s never even thought of—and he drops a whole packet of lube he procured out of fucking nowhere.

Tee stares blankly down at it. Holy shit.

“Bro, you’re taking too long,” Ja’Marr says. Tee flicks his eyes up to look blankly at him. “I want you in me, like, yesterday.”

He’s trying to fucking kill him, Tee realizes. Calling him bro, asking to fuck him in the ass, the fuck is wrong with him.

“You gonna finger me open or I gotta do it myself?”

NggGgRrrHff.

Tee doesn’t even know what came out of his mouth, surging his torso forward and bringing his hand up to tug at Ja’Marr’s skull, palm all over the back of his head so he can tug him closer to his face and lick his mouth open and just shut him the fuck up. 

Ja’Marr whimpers, the cocky slope of his shoulders slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, hauling closer near desperately to settle over Tee’s lap and press his palms over his shoulders for support—kissing Tee right back, breathing hot haaas over Tee’s mouth as he tries gasping for breath.

Tee tugs on his lips with his teeth, presses wet kisses to the side of his cheeks, drags his own lips over his skin back to the tender spot of his jaw, bites over it, pecks a little kiss in apology, then presses his cheek over Ja’Marr’s hard so he can tug roughly on his earlobe with his teeth—thinks he can devour the other man whole, really, from the sheer hunger in his gut built up from day one of over-familiarly dapping him up and hauling him in for a hug under the then-flickering lights of Paul Brown Stadium in 2021.

The lube’s gone from his fingers. He realizes this because someone is tugging Ja’Marr’s hips up so he’s kneeling over him, then pressing a finger in without so much as an ’excuse me’. 

Christ, Joe is so fucking.

Tee can't even find the words, really, to describe his quarterback. 

Ja’Marr yelps, gasps, clutches tighter at Tee’s shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close as he tries to keep kneeling but Joe is apparently ruthless when he's opening someone up because the younger man just collapses all over Tee, Tee letting his weight down him as drags both hands over the other man’s back to soothe him.

“Want—” Ja’Marr chokes out against the skin of Tee’s neck, “—want you.”

Joe huffs out a laugh as he mercilessly twists two fingers inside his receiver’s ass. Tee feels dizzy looking at the 

“Oh I see,” Joe says, dangerously amused, “I see how it is, can't even settle for me no more, huh, when you got Tee Higgins at your beck and call?”

His fingers slip out, shining under the dim lighting of Tee’s night settings, and then he slaps a hand over Ja’Marr’s ass like every part of him is for him to toy over. Tee is still so fucking woozy from the image of it all, his hand rubbing at Ja’Marr’s back sliding lower to smooth over the sting from Joe’s palm.

(god, what an ass. tee can't help himself, grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side to show his hole, shining wetly from joe’s fingers, a whole invitation for him. tee wants to put his whole mouth on it. lick him open nice and easy. press a finger in and watch as his entire body tremble and shake.)

Joe grins at him, wide and a bit mean, cocky and soooo full of himself, precisely like every other time he makes an insane throw, a run further than his usual short stops, a little overtime nail-biter win like just hours ago: his ice-in-my-veins shot that Tee paused and contemplated jerking off to hours before this.

He reaches over Ja’Marr's body between them, kisses Tee like he’s giving him his approval, then turns and presses the sweetest kiss to Ja’Marr’s nose, damn the fact that the other man is glaring and outright pouting at him.

“Bro,” he croaks out, talking to Tee but trying to shoot daggers at Joe with his eyes, “let me up, let me take this bitch down for one second then we can go right back.”

Joe giggles bright like an actual child, keeps pressing kisses over whatever parts of Ja’Marr’s face he could reach until the younger man’s lips stretch out wobbly for a smile that he can't help, still whining at Joe to shut the fuck up, would he, just for one day. 

Tee grins wide in spite of himself too, hands still all over his best friend’s ass and lips still tingling from a kiss from his quarterback.

He drags his arm up so he can cradle Ja’Marr, fingers reaching over to grip at his jaw and twist it until he's looking right at him and putting all that focus on Tee, murmurs low and raspy: “you said you want me?”, and shamelessly delights in the way the other man’s pupils dilate wide and gorgeous.

“Fuck you,” Ja’Marr says, jaw working against Tee’s grip, “Get your fucking fingers in me before i force myself on your dick, damn it.”

that’s two — from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me (adonis, transformations of the lover)

Ja’Marr nestles himself on his mound of pillows—Tee’s pillows. The pillows Tee sleeps with. His favorite pillows. The dark maroon sheets caressing his bare skin as he lounges on his self made throne, as he spreads open his legs, slipping one more pillow under his hips so he can present his ass to Joe and Tee and look expectantly at them. Tee is still so fucking lightheaded. How did he go from scoring three touchdowns to scoring a whole other touchdown? Ja’Marr—his best friend—who ducked his head to grin slilly up at him not four hours ago, telling him the next round of WR room steak dinner was on him. 

Joe pours lube all over Tee’s fingers, 

Joe’s plastering himself all over his back, but he isn’t pushing him at all. He’s just—there. Pressed up all over him, moving with him, breathing over the skin of his neck, nosing behind his ear. He’s letting Tee control how he wants to fuck his man, Tee realizes with a jolt, trusting him with Ja’Marr. 

joe plastered all over tee's back, cock nestled against his ass but he's not pushing tee around he's just following his movements, letting tee control how he wants to enter ja'marr and that also fucks tee up because joes trusting him with ja'marr!! with how he treats ja'marr at his most vulnerable!!!! telling him he can go harder, ja'marr likes whatever, can take whatever, joe leaing a hand in his belly and pushing to add in extra sensation of pleasure when tee pushes /in/ for the first time and he just collapses all over ja'marr and they're all groaning hoarsely in unison because fuck tees in ja'marr and he just pushed his ass back all over joes dick

Joe snickers at the other receiver. Tee feels him lift up an arm, nails scratching at his scalp. He’s murmuring softly at him, but Tee doesn’t think Ja’Marr is really computing any of it. 

“Aren’t you being so agreeable tonight? Some Tee Higgins magic keeping you all pliant and malleable?”

Ja’Marr whimpers, lifting his chin and biting at Joe’s fingers. Joe huffs, chest vibrating against Tee’s back, and every square inch of Tee’s body is filled with warmth.

calls him baby

ja’marr gets fucked up when tee calls him baby because joe calls him baby btw so

that’s three — to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you (billy-ray belcourt, a history of my brief body)

He’s leaning all over Ja’Marr now, gazing down the man who’s grinning woozily up at him 

Joe, nosing the back of his neck and palming his ass cheeks asking him if he likes to be fucked. Ja’Marr, hands still shaky coming up to drag over his sides and settle over his ribs like a key settling into a lock and clicking into place. Tee himself, chest expanding with breath and skin bristling with want from so deep within him it feels like it’s bursting out and changing the hue of his skin to red, to blue, to orange and black, purple and green, magenta and cyan, a kaleidoscope of colors like the big bang theory—he’s a new universe stretching and expanding and these two are his first and only planets, never to be let go.

He feels stripped bare in front of these two—is his every thought and want obvious in his face and every motion now? Do they see, now, how much he wants them? How much he—loves them? Is it obvious, now, that when he speaks to them he’s speaking like there’s a lodge of do you think of me when you’re alone without me wanting to burst out from his throat? That he aches alone in the center of a crowd when he doesn’t have them beside him? When he has them beside him, even, because they’re not really his to have? Does it show? Do they know? Do they care to know? Does he care to show them?

Tee breathes out loudly, ragged and deep. Joe shushes him, blows air against the curve of his C7. Ja’Marr surges up, presses kisses against his wet cheeks and babbles unknown words to him like he’s speaking through his shitty mic on stream. Tee would miss it, if their randomly scheduled streams were ever to peter off. Tee would miss them, if they were ever to fade away from him.

“Baby,” Ja’Marr coos, “sweetheart, my sweet, my love, my heart, my gorgeous,”

Tee shudders away against his lips and feels the man behind him curve a smile against the skin stretched over his cervical spine.

“My baby,” Joe joins in, voice jokingly grave, “my gorgeous, my sweet—”

“—quit copying me,” Ja’Marr whines, cutting him off, but he’s grinning against Tee’s lips, so he knows he’s just doing so to be annoying—just to put a smile on Tee’s face and it’s working, Tee huffing wetly against the stretch of his grin.

“—my number five,” Joe continues on without pausing, barely a fletch in his voice, “my silly rabbit, best hands in the league, insane body control, prettiest smile in the whole fucking world, favorite receiver to throw to—”

“Hey now,” Ja’Marr whines in earnest now, hands reaching around Tee’s body to stab around blindly at their quarterback. Tee breaks down in laughter for real this time, collapsing fully on the man in the bottom of the pile, letting Ja’Marr find a whole other thing to whine about—’teeeeee you’re crushing me you ass, joe don’t you fucking try it!’—and there was ice creeping from every distal edge of his limbs to the core of him, but there’s nothing but warmth now, chasing it away, clouding his head, keeping him sane. 

“But really now,” Joe interrupts, tugging his hips up impatiently, “I really wanna fuck you, do you wanna?”

Right. Jesus. Joe fucking Burrow, everyone.

Ja’Marr hums, peppering his cheek with kisses again, ever so free with his sweet affections. “Ten out of ten,” he says, “would recommend.”

Tee stares sideways at him, still settled with his weight fully on him. “That a full Yelp review for a Joe Burrow fuck?”

Ja’Marr sighs dreamily, scratching at Tee’s sides, “Do you really want one?”

Jesus.

Tee wiggles around, dragging his body against Ja’Marr’s and the man beneath him giggles when he brushes his fingers deliberately against his sides. He twists until he’s peering at Joe, squinting at him and pretending that the man didn’t just suck his dick so good Tee cried and stared at him like a second coming of Christ. Blasphemous, sacrilegious, irreverent, and yet, he has yet to be struck down and smitten—or perhaps he already has, and this is all a byproduct of his imaginary ruin.

“Think you can make it good?” He asks imperiously, already knowing in his bones this man would be as good at fucking as he is at literally anything else, as well evidenced by his previous attempt at giving Tee what was possibly the best blowjob of his life just, what, 40 minutes prior?

Joe scoffs, ducking his head down and pecking at his lips. “I just sucked your dick to incoherency, the fuck do you mean ‘can i make it good’? I got a pretty mouth and a pretty dick, think for yourself.”

Tee chokes in sheer disbelief—heart stuttering a bit at the brief press of lips but what-the-fuck-ever—the ego on this man, jesus. He flicks his eyes to the pink of his lips—shining, distracting, real fucking pretty—then, well, down past the puffy nipples and golden dusting of chest hair and layer of fat over abs to the nice curve of a cock—thick and long, veiny, a blushy pink head, a weirdly sexy little jolt like it’s show-ponying, like it knows he’s watching it and wants to show it likes it—that Joe likes Tee watching him. Yeah, real fucking pretty dick, too, damn it, fuck Joe Burrow.

Tee whines, turning back around to bury his face—knowing damn well it’s burning red even through the dark of his skin—in the curve of Ja’Marr’s neck and tries not to let the dual laughter of the boys who’ve quite literally captured his heart stutter it too much. Failed, but whatever, he’s got way too much practice over the years regulating his heartbeat to normalcy around these two.

Joe goes to scrape his teeth along the top his spine again and Tee shivers, feeling like prey caught in the maw of a tiger, which really won’t do—he’s a fucking bengal too, damn it. He bucks his hips back firmly, makes sure to rub the curve of his ass against the hard of his quarterback’s dick and hides his satisfied smile against his fellow receiver’s jaw when Joe gasps loud and startled, hand coming to grip at his hip hard, probably leaving bruises for him to brush his fingers wonderingly over later on.

Ja’Marr snickers approvingly, pressing his jaw back firmly against Tee’s mouth, “Yeah, tell him who’s boss, make him work for it.”

Tee presses a kiss right to the tender skin below his jawbone, leaves it there for a beat, two, three, feels like maybe he can make out the faint fluttering of his heartbeat against his lips, then lets up to say drily, “Pretty sure all your raving reviews does wonders for his ego. Don’t act like you’re not to blame here, Mr. Joe Burrow’s Numero Uno.”

Ja’Marr just shrugs unapologetically the best he could, pressed down as he is with Tee’s full weight all over him to the bed, never really one to be shy about his near piety to one Joe Burrow when it’s just them three. He’s been circling indistinct little patterns on the skin of Tee’s hips the whole time, but he stops for a minute to reach a hand up and tap a little rhythm teasingly over Joe’s thigh, now kneeling to the side, the only one still hard and with zero orgasms to his name that night, pouting but not admitting it.

Tee very obviously wouldn’t say no to having Joe’s dick inside him but playing hard-to-get just so Joe Burrow would pout and whine about not getting to fuck him is really—really fucking cute, actually, wow. Wow, god, Tee is so gone for him, he should really take a step back and regulate his entire life and emotional capacity, wow. Wow.

and in the end — over a distance of four hundred miles, her yearning and his yearning are intertwined, as though there were no spatial or temporal interval between them (jenny erpenbeck, kairos)

After it’s all done and not said, then, Tee’s left naked in the middle of the hallway leading to his bathroom, unable to take the steps back to his own room where his best friends are, clutching at his towel after having just pissed, and having orgasmed three fucking times by the combined willpower of his two closest teammates, all because he scored three touchdowns for a game—that might possibly be his last home game with them—that had playoff stakes. Fuck.

Heavy footsteps come up to him and he flicks his eyes up to see Joe staring him down—naked, gorgeous, sweat-slicked, his quarterback, his friend. Who had just fucked the bejeesus out of him.

Tee drags a hand down his face harshly. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

The lilt of Ja’Marr’s voice when he says my sweet, when he’s referring to Tee as my heart, when he’s saying Tee as my gorgeous. When Joe says gravely, jokingly, possessively, my number five, he’s saying that about Tee. 

Joe catches his hands—both of them—towel slipping away, and holds them and tugs at them until Tee is stumbling into him, lifting his chin up awkwardly so he won’t slam it into Joe’s nose but Joe doesn’t even do him the honor of avoiding it. He just tucks it into the curve of his Adam’s apple and breathes in deep like a weirdo. How many times has Tee just caught him with his nose buried in Ja’Marr’s neck as he hugs the receiver—how many times has he caught the man nudge his nose to the curve of Tee’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, after a game when he comes to him for a hug. Oh.

“Joe,” Tee breathes out, trembles, wonders how he’s supposed to word this out, how he’s supposed to say how he feels, how he’s supposed to say t

Ja’Marr, breathing in his air and telling him he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Tee sees Joe grin down his phone at ass o’clock in the morning and knows he’s reading i love you in between the letters of Ja’Marr’s why the fuck is all of cincy awake at 7 in the morning.

Ja’Marr says hey, all sleepy with the vowel dragging and it sounds like come here, you two. Tee goes, Joe right behind him a half step away.

a little more down the line — the only heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you (hozier, take me to church)

you do like all those pet names

he calls me all that all the time joe says nosing behind tees ear

i like calling you that too tee says, amused. letting his neck bend even more, what even are the words uncomfortable stretch when joe burrow has his nose buried in the curve of it. 

you called me baby, ja’marr says then, shy and a little quiet, like he’s saying something he keeps close to him and isn’t sure how he should breach it out of him. 

i call him that, joe says next, grin audible even if its not visible from where he’s pressed up behind tee

oh. tee called him baby, told him to come for him, and ja’marr gasped into his mouth and bursted all over tee’s belly, drenching him in white, whimpering as he stared into tee’s eyes with his own watering but still kept it open, didn't even close it because he didn’t want to. couldn't, maybe, tee thinks again.

oh, tee says out loud for real then, bumping his nose forward to ja’marr like he's learning that ja’marr likes to do, okay then, baby, come here, baby, let me see you, baby.

ja’marr laughs, bumps his nose right back. don't wear it thin. 

never, tee swears.

my baby, my baby, joe murmurs finally into the back of tee’s neck, pressing his fingers into the insides of ja’marr’s elbows.

.

.

.

i want more thumps. i want more time. i want to waste my love on everything. give me a heart for ohio. —(joy sullivan, instructions for traveling west, an octopus has three whole hearts)

more time together for these three, please.

WHICH APPARENTLY HEY THEY DID IT 😭😭👍👍👍👍 GOOD FOR THEM!!! trey next so help me!! when treys news comes out (🙏) maybe ill post that treymarr unfinished oblivious courting fic idk we'll see that ones more of a mess than this and also wayyy shorter lmao but anyways:::: thank u for reading through this all if u made it to this end note 😇🫶 goodbye see u again whenever i have it in me to show up again akdhsjdjdj love yall bengals super bowl 2k26 Believe! or whatever it is they all say in that 2021 run 💖

thank you for every one of you who've come into my inbox to ask how i am by the way!!!! adore and miss you all very much <33

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Anne Applebaum :: @anneapplebaum

This was the moment that mattered. Trump's political movement relies on total impunity for liars, and mostly gets it. The lies bind them together, cement their feeling of power.

* * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 1, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Oct 02, 2024

More than 45,000 U.S. dock workers went on strike today for the first time since 1977, nearly 50 years ago. The International Longshoremen's Association union, which represents 45,000 port workers, is negotiating with the United States Maritime Alliance (USMX) employer group over a new contract. The strike will shut down 36 ports from Maine to Texas, affecting about half the country’s shipping. Analysts from J.P. Morgan estimate that the strike could cost the U.S. economy about $5 billion a day. The strikers have said they will continue to unload military cargo.

Dockworkers want a 77% increase in pay over six years and better benefits, while USMX has said it has offered to increase wages by nearly 50%, triple employer contributions to retirement plans, and improve health care options. In the Washington Post, economics columnist Heather Long pointed out that the big issue at stake is the automation that threatens union jobs.

Although the strike threatens to slow the economy depending on how long it lasts, President Joe Biden has refused requests to force the strikers back to work, reiterating his support for collective bargaining. He noted that ocean carriers have made record profits since the pandemic—sometimes in excess of 800% over prepandemic levels—and that executive compensation and shareholder profits have reflected those profits. “It’s only fair that workers, who put themselves at risk during the pandemic to keep ports open, see a meaningful increase in their wages as well,” Biden said in a statement.  

In the presidential contest, the Trump-Vance campaign is trying to preserve its false narrative. In Wisconsin today, Trump accused Vice President Harris of murder—although he appeared to get confused about the victim—and claimed that she has a phone app on which the heads of cartels can get information about where to drop undocumented immigrants. He also said that Kim Jong Un of North Korea is trying to kill him.

When asked if he should have been tougher on Iran after it launched ballistic missiles in 2020 on U.S. forces in Iraq, leaving more than 100 U.S. soldiers injured, Trump rejected the idea that soldiers with traumatic brain injuries were actually hurt. He said “they had a headache” and said he thought the attack “was a very nice thing because they didn’t want us to retaliate.”

Trump also backed out of a scheduled interview with 60 Minutes that correspondent Scott Pelley was slated to conduct on Thursday. 60 Minutes noted that for more than 50 years, the show has invited both campaigns to appear on the broadcast before the election and this year, both campaigns agreed to an interview. Trump’s spokesperson complained that 60 Minutes “insisted on doing live fact checking, which is unprecedented.” Vice President Kamala Harris will participate in her interview as planned. 

The campaign’s resistance to independent fact checking of their false narrative came up in tonight’s vice presidential debate on CBS between Minnesota governor Tim Walz, Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris’s running mate, and Ohio senator J.D. Vance, running mate for Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump. CBS Evening News anchor Norah O'Donnell and Face the Nation moderator and chief foreign affairs correspondent Margaret Brennan moderated the debate.

Walz’s goal in the debate was to do no harm to Vice President Harris’s campaign, and he achieved that. Vance’s goal was harder: to give people a reason to vote for Donald Trump. It is doubtful he moved any needles there. 

The moments that did stand out in the debate put a spotlight on Vance’s tenuous relationship with the truth. When Vance lied again about the migrants in Springfield, Ohio, who are in the United States legally, Brennan added: "Just to clarify for our viewers, Springfield, Ohio, does have a large number of Haitian migrants who have legal status."

Vance responded: "The rules were that you guys weren't going to fact-check.”

There were two other big moments of the evening, both based in lies. First, Vance claimed that Trump, who tried repeatedly to repeal or weaken the Affordable Care Act, “saved” it. Then, Walz asked Vance directly if Trump lost the 2020 presidential election. Vance refused to answer, saying he is “focused on the future,” and warned that “the threat of censorship” is the real problem in the U.S. 

Walz said: “That’s a damning non-answer.” 

Former chair of the Republican Party Michael Steele said after the debate: “I don't care where you are on policy…. If you cannot in 2024 answer that question, you are unfit for office.”

It was significant that Vance tried to avoid saying either that Trump won in 2020—a litmus test for MAGA Republicans—or that he lost, a reflection of reality. While this debate probably didn’t move a lot of voters for the 2024 election, what it did do was make Vance look like a far more viable candidate than his running mate. Waffling on the Big Lie seemed designed to preserve his candidacy for future elections.

It seems likely that the message behind Vance’s smooth performance wasn’t lost on Trump. As the debate was going on, Trump posted: “The GREAT Pete Rose just died. He was one of the most magnificent baseball players ever to play the game. He paid the price! Major League Baseball should have allowed him into the Hall of Fame many years ago. Do it now, before his funeral!” 

Former Cincinnati Reds baseball player Rose died yesterday at 83. 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[avengersmansion-official]

So, how DID the Avengers manage to get sanction from the US government, the UN, and SHIELD without being beholden to any of them?

Very carefully.

No, but actually, this is one of those "it pays to have friends in high places" things. And more specifically, it's almost entirely thanks to two men: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

To better understand this, you need to understand what the early days of the modern age of superheroes were like. After years and years without prominent superheroes operating anywhere in the world, they had become something of a novelty and a curiosity again - especially with the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man becoming overnight celebrities. (Or Public Enemy #1 in Spider-Man's case, if the Daily Bugle was to be believed.)

(If you want a really good take on what these early days were like, I highly recommend the photojournalism book Marvels by Phil Sheldon, btw. Some truly breathtaking pics in there that truly highlight how fantastic the things we take as mundane now were.)

(Phil Sheldon's iconic photo of the X-Man Angel rescuing a young mutant girl from an angry mob)

Because of this novelty, the US government did not have quite as strong a hold on the country's superhuman population as they would attempt to have in later years. They didn't know exactly how to respond to the appearance of actual Norse gods in Manhattan.

Enter Tony Stark. Stark, at that time still an arms manufacturer, and bankrolling the Avengers that his "bodyguard" Iron Man was a charter member of, realized that too heavy of government oversight would prohibit the Avengers from operating with the latitude they would require to fight Loki, Space Phantoms, and other threats. (Of note, a complete reversal from the opinions he'd later espouse following the Stamford disaster.)

Stark negotiated deals with the government allowing the Avengers to operate with impunity, threatening to terminate his weapons contracts if they didn't. The United Nations soon followed suit.

The Avengers' SHIELD sanction, conversely, came as a result of Captain America's joining the team. Steve Rogers, upon his arrival in the modern era, soon started working in the employ of one of his old war buddies, newly appointed SHIELD director Nick Fury.

Fury and his Howling Commandos had worked together with Rogers in the European theater in World War II, and it didn't take much convincing for Rogers to get Fury to give Avengers clearance to do what they needed to do.

Of course, that peace wouldn't last forever, and the Avengers eventually came under closer government scrutiny, being assigned a liaison and forced to operate under certain restrictions. And that's not to mention the half-dozen major organizational restructures they've gone through since then.

But early on, it was thanks to Rogers and Stark that the Avengers could operate as they did.

[darksunrising]

Bard On Bard Violence (1/?)

Masterlist of the Echoes of Faerûn Series

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Rating / Warnings : Mature audiences.

Fandom, Pairing : Baldur's Gate III, Raphael x Tav (focus), Astarion x Tav (background)

Author’s notes : I really like the "sex contract" trope. However, I really like to be an annoyance even more, so I just wanted an excuse to write my Bard Echo negotiating such a contract with Raphael, with the help of his ex-magistrate current-boyfriend. It will contain The Sexy Scenes later, so minors begone.

For reference, Echo is a tiefling bard, and a trans man.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Perched up at the top of a broken-down windmill, Echo has been trying for a while to settle the anxiety knotted in his gut since they’ve left the now Un-Shadowed lands. After so long constantly on the lookout for the smallest shift in every shadow, considering every mannerism, every turn of phrase to slink by the Absolute’s cult, that first moment of peace, of quiet, feels like impending doom.

In some way, it had been easier to keep focused on the all-around imminent threat of death, to not think about anything else. To not keep count of how many times he’s had to bring back his companions from the brink of death, or beyond. How he’s felt the cold embrace of death twice himself now, and every time, he’s left something behind. An ache that just won’t leave, a scar that just won’t heal, a memory that just won’t come back.

He shivers under the evening wind breezing through the fine linen of his nightshirt, eyes glazed over towards the setting sun, blazing the sky in reds and oranges. His hands are clasped tight together, massaging the tremors out of the tendons, the crushed, aching nerves at the tip of his fingers. He knows trembling hands are a death sentence, for a bard. And yet, he’d still suffer the bruising bite of his rapier’s hilt, still play twice as hard if needed to keep their foes chained down, frightened, weakened. To keep people he loves alive, just a bit longer.

Echo doesn’t immediately register the gentle smell of cherries and amber, but he does notice the heat, even if it’s too late. "My, my, little mouse...", a low, silky voice slips into Echo's ear. "So unlike you to be caught off your guard."

Echo jumps, flipping himself around, back pressed to the wooden beam he'd been leaning on. "Fuck, Raphael, how long-", he starts, and forces his mouth shut to take a deep, steadying breath, through the nose. 

"Not long. You looked so... Pensive, I resented to interrupt", the cambion replies. As most often when he visits in Faerûn, he is donning his human disguise, warm brown eyes glimmering with amusement as he looks down at the poor surprised tiefling.

"Of course you did", he replies, between his teeth. He does manage to regain some composure, some dignity. Not all, mind you, he's still in sleepwear, far from the embroidered, polished, buttoned to the neck sort of clothing he usually favors to meet with the likes of Raphael. "Did you just mean to give me a heart attack, or is there an actual purpose for your visit?"

"Oh, baring claws, are we?", the Devil retorts, letting the red skin and sharp nails slip through as he curls his fingers in, just for that little mocking gesture.

"You know how I do enjoy an extended metaphor." The same sarcasm is offered to the fiend in response, Echo's arms crossing over his chest in a vague, half-unconscious effort to look more imposing. It's mostly lost on his smaller frame, at least half a foot shorter than the other man (horns included). Raphael hums, his eternal infuriating little smile dancing on his lips. He takes lazy steps towards Echo, up into his personal space.

"I did want to see how you were faring, after all that... Unpleasantness, at Moonrise Towers." His hand comes up to Echo's face, who doesn't budge an inch. He's fishing for a reaction, and he'd rather not give him that pleasure. Raphael's thumb brushes over the scar that now adorns the side of his chin, biting down from his lip in a thin, pale line.

"We made it out fine", Echo says, voice coming out a bit too flat for his usual lyricism.

"So I see." His hand drops from Echo's face, with an almost gentle little scrape of his nails over the underside of his jaw. He chooses to believe the little shiver that runs down his spine is only due to the cold, and peels himself from the balustrade Raphael now leans against, eyes turned to the blazing horizon.

"I came to make you an offer", the Devil says, after a moment of silence Echo refuses to fill.

"My soul is not for sale", Echo replies, almost instantly, and Raphael makes a little gesture as if to swat away a fly, eyebrows scrunching up in annoyance.

"Yes, yes, so you've said." He leans on an elbow, the dying sunlight bringing a fire to his iris that's not entirely unlike his actual eye color. "This is not what I am after... Yet", he adds, playfully cocking his head to the side.

Echo rolls his eyes. In theory, he knows better than to listen to a fiend's offers. They've rather lucked out with Astarion's 'deal' to bring Yurgir back to the House of Hope, but he doesn't trust Raphael to not be the sort of Devil to plan for the long term. Get their trust, get them to like him, even, and come out on top with one of their souls in his clawed hands.

And yet.

"I'm listening."

Raphael's face splits in a delighted grin, and he clasps his hands together. "I knew you had some sense in you. Now-" He removes himself from the balustrade, imposing his full height on Echo once again. "I have the suspicion that being so thoroughly surrounded by powerful warriors and casters, you might find yourself..." He searches for his words, for effect. Echo indulges him, as he always does. "... At a disadvantage."

Echo is almost sure those words, as most coming out of the Devil's mouth, are practiced, though he can't really fault him for that. There's something... Enjoyable, about the way he performs his role to the perfection, all while seeming so utterly harmless. Trustworthy, even. That's where the danger lies, he supposes. He doesn't say anything, not wanting to interrupt his monologue with more than an encouraging eyebrow raise. Raphael has a little satisfied hum in response.

"I could give you access to some of a Warlock's knowledge to better protect yourself, and more importantly, your little companions", he continues. A little sting, right to Echo's heart, though his face remains impassible. It's not hard to know that would be the string to pull to convince him. He knows his talents have their uses, he does, but as soon as they're in actual combat, he can't help but feel... Useless. Hanging out at the edges, healing those he can, trying to buy some time, frighten their adversaries, but in the end, nothing to match Gale's fireballs or Karlach's axe.

"Supposing I were interested", he starts, eyebrows knitting together as Raphael's smile immediately shows teeth again, "Supposing. What would you want in exchange, if not my soul?"

Raphael's eyes narrow, and Echo swears he can see his pupils dilate. "Your particular set of skills, of course, what else could you offer that I could not get elsewhere?" He pauses a second, just to let the implication dawn on Echo, and interrupts just as he's about to open his mouth. "Still living mortals are such a... Delicacy, to have in the Hells, and I need a performer when I entertain. You do have experience with such arrangements, don't you?"

Echo's heart skips a beat, and a second, aching like Raphael had reached through his ribcage to grasp it in his hand. His face falls with it, only a second, more than enough for Raphael to know his hook is dug deep into Echo's skin.

"Maybe it's not the sort of experience I want to reiterate", he says, voice carefully controlled not to shake.

Raphael leans in, just a little, eyes dark, piercing through him like he's made of paper. "I could give you so much more than they ever did. Real power, real security. Something tangible."

"And all of that for the price of my company and my music, is it?" He does try to sound as sarcastic as possible, though his voice trembles a bit, infuriatingly. Raphael takes an invading step towards Echo, finally managing to make him give up ground, and step back to the balustrade. It presses into his back as he flattens himself against it, hand graspig for a secure hold into the wood.

"Your company”, Raphael starts, slow, measuring his effect. “And anything I could ask of you if it suits my desire."

Echo knows he's not helpless. He could scream, and have eight very capable people ready to tear the Devil to shreds. He could run. He could tell him to go fuck himself.

"I won't become your on-call whore for a few spells." He tries to sound as dry as he can, though it comes out a bit slurred. Raphael's smile doesn't drop one bit, hand curling underneath Echo's chin to tip his face up. The heat of his skin makes Echo shiver, his face taking a nice purple hue across his cheeks.

"Oh, you can pretend you are above this, but you can't fool me, little mouse", he purrs, shifting to a proper grip on the tiefling's jaw that draws an unfortunate whimper from him. "I have seen how you look at me, I can hear the way your heart beats for me."

The heady aroma of Raphael's perfume makes it that much harder to focus, and Echo's eyes keep dropping to the Devil's lips despite his best attempts to hold his gaze. And Raphael notices, of course he does, his smile digging lines into his skin as it reaches his eyes. His hand withdraws, the tips of his fingers gently brushing across his jaw as it does.

"I will let you think on it", he says, and produces a small piece of metal between his fingers. "Use this to play, and I will know to come for you", he says, infuriatingly confident that Echo will call for him, as he places the pick in the tiefling's hand. His fiendish appearance flickers over his face, before he raises a hand, and snaps himself away in an elegant swirl of smoke and embers. Echo remains, frozen, with all proof of the encounter the small, chiselled pick, near warm enough to burn in the palm of his hand.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Comments are super appreciated, and you can dm me if you want to be on the taglist if that's still a thing people do!

[cantquitu]

The way I see it, Putin started the war to secure Russia's imperialist sphere of interest for its national capitalist class (Oligarchs) and to push back against the encroachment of NATO following the Euromaidan overthrow of the Yanukovich government. What has followed has been an unbearably bloody proxy war between the US and Russia for which Ukraininas have paid in blood and soil. It is disgusting what happens to smaller countrys that come between the meet grinders of expanding imperialist powers. And the despicable selling off of its mineral riches (not just to the US, France has also already contracts in place) and carving up of its territory is obviously a part of this.

But to Europe's role in this conflict:

The head of Zelensky's own faction in parliament said that in March of 2022 there was a peace offer from Russia on the table that would have frozen the borders as they were in the beginning of 2022 if Ukraine pledged to stay neutral in regards to NATO. And this peace offer was rejected because Boris Johnson flew to Kiev and promised European support until victory if they reject the deal. Which they did. So yes, Europe has absolutely been instrumental in prolonging this horrible war. Seriously damn Johnson to the deepest pits of hell, how many young men would still be alive if Zelensky accepted that deal.

Since then Russia's negotiating position has grown much stronger and Ukraines position weaker. All the economic sanctions against Russia have massively backfired, only strengthend Russias economy and pushed it closer to China and the rest of the global south. Motions in the UN have had no effect and seem more and more hypocritical, the more Europe and the US embraces Netanjahu. (Both Putin and Netanjahu are war criminals, but they are treated competely differently. And the world can see this.)

The problem with your scenario is that there is no real leverage available anymore to Ukraine or Europe (even more extremely without the backing of the US) to force Russia into such a settlement. The economic sanctions have not worked and Russia is winning on the battlefield. It is absolutely horrifiying to me that there is talk about nuclear deterrent in France right now. Thats how desperate Europe's position is!

I genuinely believe with every passing day Ukraine's position is getting worse. Europe and Ukraine are not invited to the negotiating table with Trump and Putin? Then they should (and I mean that seriously, that is what european leaders absolutely should be doing right now) pick up a phone and call Putin right now to start direct negotiations and make use of European sovereignity. But they have been junior partners to the US for so long, they don't know what to do when the US under Trump abandons them to look out for ther own imperialis interests.

I just think it is an absolutely untenable and fucked up position in any war, especially one you are loosing, to say defeat is not an option, as Zelensky has said: "For us, there is no exit. We win, or we cease to exist." Think about what that really means. Any deal, EVERY deal is better than that.

Sorry it took me so long to awnser, english is not my first language. And genuinely thank you for talking with me about this, I know we all absolutely hate what is going on right now, and I think conversations like this are important. And I know I maybe shouldn't have bothered you on your blog like this, sorry again. I just really had a stong reaction to your repost, probably because I really like your blog, as I have said. Sorry

Thank you for coming back, and I do appreciate these conversations. I just feel feral when I see Trump & Putin's talking points repeated back and put at Zelensky's feet. They are jointly forcing him into a corner and when he and Europe (and most of the world) protest and stand with him, it makes no sense to me to respond by berating them for not immediately capitulating and groveling.

We definitely agree on a few things. Yes, this war is part of Russia's imperialist expansion, and the USA's greed-fueled bloodthirst.

Yes, Ukraine's position is getting worse every day. Yes, the problem with the scenario i outlined is Ukraine's diminished bargaining power. This is the issue at the crux of this crisis! I was not for one second suggesting this is easy to achieve; if it was, the war would have been over years ago. But for Zelensky to roll over the moment Trump enters the White House? Impossible. Incredibly dangerous (as is the alternative, I know)

Where we disagree is on your positioning re Europe, the language you are using: shifting blame to the party put in the impossible position rather than those who put them there. This is what Putin does, what Trump does. I'm obsessive about this language - it may seem immaterial, but we cannot allow them to rewrite history. Trump and Vance won't even acknowledge that Russia invaded Ukraine!

Re this fictional peace deal in March '22 that Johnson supposedly talked Zelensky out of...This has been roundly rubbished by Zelensky, by Johnson, by all involved except- surprise! - Putin.

The Kremlin fabricated this story based on an interview that David Arakhamia, a member of Zelensky's negotiating team, gave around a year ago. Yes, Arakhamia said Johnson had urged Ukraine in April '22 to keep fighting... but he also said in the same interview that Ukraine had had no intention of signing anything. Putin left that bit out! It has become part of Russian propaganda. There was no acceptable peace deal on the table in March '22. Ukraine was pushing Russia out of Kyiv at the time, Russian atrocities were being revealed, Russian demands were untenable. The idea that this was a real opportunity that Europe talked Ukraine out of is rubbish. Simply not true.

I disagree that any solution is better than fighting, and that's coming from a pessimistic place. I'm frightened of what Russia & the US will do if Ukraine rolls over. I do not believe they will be satisfied with whatever "peace deal" they exhort out of Zelensky.

[moontheoretist]

This is exactly what I talked about when I were talking about Sokovia Accords. From one hand UN is legitimate enough to have exsperts in the field write a treaty that 117 countries will accept, sign and ratify for themselves, but on the other hand how much of that treaty will be upheld and how much the individual countries' laws will deviate from the original thought of the treaty is up to the countries that signed it. With a repetitive offenders like USA and Russia making mockery out of international laws and treaties by simply not abiding by them or outright not even ratifying them despite being a signatory country.

(And the funniest part, or the most predictable part is when USA is ok with international law only when it's applied to their enemies (Russia), but never when it's applied to them or their allies, which shows that they love to make the rules but hate being subjected to them - a very "I'm above the law" approach that seems to come with America).

Another problem entirely is of course if the group in question that the treaty was made about was even asked about their opinion, and one of the fanfiction I read recently actually reminded me that Avengers were allowed a chance to negotiate the Accords (as if it was just a contract instead of international treaty), which means that the UN was willing to listen to their insight and fix the document or at least allow for the Avengers to make their case with possible amendments rather than imposing it on them indiscriminately without asking for feedback.

And you could go twofold here with Civil War:

either Accords are good and bad America, Russia etc. are misusing them to target enhanced people, or

Accords are bad because America, Russia etc. influenced it so much that it only serves their political interests, which in this case is targeting and using enhanced people.

I'd personally go with the first, because I think that was the intention of the Civil War and there is already enough scenes hinting at this very outcome rather than the second one. But with some modifications the second could be plausible also. Tho I feel then they'd have to include an explanation why Tony is supporting it, because comic Tony Stark has far more complicated moral compass than the Tony Stark of the MCU. There is far more comic media that show Tony than there were MCU movies, so it'd be valid to say that MCU Tony would not support Accords in the second scenario unless he had a very good explanation for it like for example: was coerced, manipulated, blindsided or smth else. But also then the entire goal of the ending of the movie would have to change, because current Civil War's goal is to break Avengers apart i.e hurt Tony by using Steve. This is Zemo's entire plan and it works. In the second scenario the goal of Steve's faction should be to "save Tony" from whatever he was fed rather than violently pacifying him, and the villain's goal could be to encourage Avengers to kill him.

And then there are two routes, either:

villain wins and manages to convince Steve's faction that Tony is dangerous and Steve fights Tony but can't bring himself up to kill him i.e. ending with undesired outcome of violently pacifying him,

or villain loses and Tony is saved.

Considering the breakup of the Avengers the first idea seems like the one they should have gone for in this scenario. And now depending on if Steve truly cares about Tony or not, the latter movies should either stay the same or be modified. Because Steve who wanted to save Tony but was forced to violently pacify him SHOULD HAVE BEEN feeling guilty of what he had to do. MCU Steve so far doesn't feel as if he ever felt guilty about how Civil War turned out, which makes you think that he doesn't even care about Rhodey or Tony who suffered the most in the wake of the Civil War. Movies so far make you feel that Steve only feels something for himself. Because even saving Bucky is more about himself than Bucky, which Steve's choice to timetravel to Peggy is a staggering confirmation of. It was all always about Steve.

Anyway, coming back to USA and Russia making a mockery out of the UN and the international law: that is an important issue, and it'd be a great topic to cover in a Marvel movie, but of course because it's made by Hollywood the chance for it to criticise USA in any way is a no go.

I said multiple times before that MCU had a potential for criticising of the USA military that was wasted, and this is the exact same case. We all know this problem exists in the real world. We all know that USA is not abiding by the treaties and ignoring orders of the Court of Justice of the UN. That is insane thing that was a reality and is still a reality despite all of us knowing about it. This is a big flaw of the UN that they can't enforce international laws or punish countries simply because those countries that usually do that just have too much power in the UN itself. I feel like new X-Men animation critiqued UN more than any MCU movie ever. You may think this is a superficial thing to push for that critique to be included in a superhero movie, but we all know how powerful media can be. Superhero genre is watched by many and can be an effective tool to teach people and enact pressure. Because no one likes when their dirty laundry is winning at the box office.

We should talk about the crimes that never were brought to justice. We should never forget that human rights are twarted under the boot of political interests of countries like USA. That people loose their lives because supposedly the freest and bestest country in the world just can't be held accountable for abeting crimes commited by their allies. We should criticise UN's innability to act, but do it in a way that points a finger directly at the source of their problem. We shouldn't be affraid to do that on the big screen. More, we should happily do so. Will that change anything? Probably not. But the more people know the better.

Anyway, watch the video. It's really good.

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything’s a Negotiation (6/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC, Modern!Alfie Solomons x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations, possessive behavior

Summary: Mac meets another of Tommy's...associates, and the meeting doesn't go how either of them expected it to.

Word Count: 2616

A/N: Okay, I know this has been forever and that many of you have been waiting so patiently for an update. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want added to the tag list.

When she’d woken up, Tommy hadn’t been outside her door. She pretended she wasn’t disappointed by his absence. Instead, she’d discovered a rather ostentatious display of flowers on her table. They’d made her smile, which had then made her frown since she had quite decided if she’d been swayed from angry to charmed by Tommy’s behavior. Maybe Sydney would be able to help sort out her emotions tonight when they met for drinks. Although, knowing Syd she might just say to shag him and be done with it.  

Mac dashed into her office, heels in her hands as Katie trailed after her, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I know, I’m late. It was - ” Mac cut herself off. “It doesn’t matter. Won’t be a problem again.”

Sitting on the edge of her desk, she put her shoes on a took a deep breath. She thanked Katie as she placed the cup of coffee down.

It had been a nightmare getting out of the house. One of those mornings she hadn’t had since Zeus was a puppy. First, he wouldn’t eat. Then when it was time to go outside and get done, he just wanted to sniff everything…and chase everything. She’d been half asleep and more than a little distracted by a tall man with blue eyes, and Zeus managed to slip his lead, so she’d spent precious time chasing him down the street. Not chasing exactly, because if he even thought she was chasing him then it was over before it began since clearly her yelling and running after him meant ‘let’s play a game’ in dog-speak. Instead, Mac had carefully trailed after him, pretending to be absolutely un interested in everything Zeus did until she could get close enough to grab his harness. 

Taking a sip of her coffee, she tilted her head as she noticed a small package waiting for her on her desk. Before she could look for a note or call Katie back in, there was a knock at the door. Reminding herself that she had been a capable professional long before she’d met the Shelby’s and that Zeus was an incredibly well-behaved dog (most of the time), she moved quickly to the door. 

A bright smile on her face, she greeted her first client of the day. 

“Mister Solomons, pleasure.” Mac held her hand out to him. 

He grinned at her. With gentle movements that belied the size of his massive hand, he brought her hand up to his lips. His untamed beard and mustache tickled the back of her hand as he pressed a kiss to it. She felt a blush creep up her neck. When his lips quirked up into a smile, she fought the urge to duck her head as she felt the blush deepen. It was the eyes. She’d always had a weakness for men’s eyes.

“Thank you for seein’ me today in your lovely office, Miss Theil.” 

She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what it is I can do for you. As I’m sure my assistant told you, we don’t take on contracts for a company of your size. She should have provided you with our list of recommended companies.” 

Taking her seat, she watched as Alfie placed himself in her chair. His frame filled the space and he sprawled himself, as though to intentionally make himself seem larger. 

He nodded, stroked a hand down his beard. “Yes, yes, she did. She did give me a list, but I’ve always thought, right, always thought that it’s best to have business meetings face to face, yeah?” 

“I’m sure. I’m also sure you thought comin’ here in person, flashing me that cheeky smile of yours, using those bright hazel eyes on me would have me all weak in the knees. Figured you could…negotiate a better deal with me.” 

As his smile grew, her frown deepened. It didn’t happen often anymore, her firm had a well-known, and well-respected reputation. But, in the beginning, she’d get a lot of customers who’d come in and demand she clarify her business model, as though she were at uni presenting her portfolio to the tutor at the end of term. Others thought they’d push her around because she had tits and no dick. 

And yet. The more she looked at Mr. Solomons the more she felt something was off . The way he held himself. Casual, almost…waiting. But this waiting for what? She had an inkling he wasn’t expecting her to change her mind. No, this was something else entirely. 

A blinking icon on her screen drew her attention. Glancing down she smirked. Interesting.   

Standing from her desk, she trailed her finger along the polished top as she rounded it. Perching herself directly in front of Mr. Solomons, she crossed her ankles and leaned back against her desk. As she’d expected, his eyes tracked her movements - half interest in her body and half a desire to keep her always in his line of sight. 

“I must admit,” Mac began, voice smooth and even. “I had expected more from a man in your line of work. It’s honestly a bit disappointing, actually.”

She watched his brows furrow. Leaning forward she pouted at him. “Did you mean to insult me, Mr. Solomons?” 

Before he could speak, she turned the computer screen to face him. “Do you see that van there?” She pointed to a nondescript maintenance van parked across the street from her building. 

“There’s the most curious signal coming from that van. I do hope you didn’t invest a great deal of money in either the equipment or the personnel inside.”

“Now, pet - ”

Ignoring the endearment, she continued. “If I were to press this button, a number of simultaneous things would occur. Several which might bring you and your…associate into closer contact with law enforcement than a man in your line of work finds comfortable. This would be followed by lengthy discussions with my team of well-paid and rather intense, if I’m being honest, barristers who would demand a bit more money than you’d be willing to part with because I get greedy when I feel insulted.”

“He’s harmless, only little.” 

Mac smiled, all teeth and false charm. “Unfortunately for you both, I’m anything but harmless. I have this other button here - ” She caressed it. “We can avoid any police involvement, any lengthy litigation, but that van will never work quite properly again.”

“I understand now,” Alfie said almost to himself. “If you wont take me business, would you allow me to take you out for a drink, yeah? Consider it a sort of apology, yeah, for my bad, bad manners.” 

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly is it that you understand now that wasn’t clear when you showed up in my office earlier, Mister Solomons?”

“Alfie, pet, please.” 

“Answer the question.” 

Alfie scratched at his beard again, eyes slightly narrowed. “You’ll not like the answer I have for you, pet. No, you won’t like it at all. Don’t want you losing your temper at me, sensitive soul that I am, don’t want you to run the risk of hurting my feelings.”

Mac laughed, even though she didn’t want to. How was it that she attracted all the crazy, but endearing men in London to her office? Was she just easily charmed? Maybe Syd had been right about her type…

“Well now you have to tell me, and since you’ve already insulted me, I figure turn about is fair play.” 

“Right you are, pet. I said that I understood, right, understood why Thomas Shelby, yeah, see I knew you weren’t going to like this explanation, right because Thomas Shelby is the one who told me about your company. Encouraged me he did to come have a chat with you, right, but fuck Thomas Shelby because I do want you to work for me because you’re fucking brilliant, right, and I do enjoy the presence of fucking smart people.” 

Shark smile on her face, Mac pressed the button. She knew Alfie tracked her movement, watched his jaw work around words he didn’t say aloud. Walking towards the window, Mac motioned for Alfie to join her. 

Alfie held his hands up in front of him, palms out to placate her. “Now pet - ”

“No cops,” Mac interrupted. “As you said, I’m smart. But, I don’t work for business of your size. Still, I’m damn good at what I do, so here’s a little object lesson for you since you and Tommy seem to be a bit dense. When you report back to him, you can detail what you saw. First hand account. See those men - ” Mac pointed to the quartet of suited men leaving the building and crossing the street. “They work for me. They’re going to detain your man in the van, and confiscate all material assets they find - including the van itself. I’ll impound it in my lot. Strip any electronics I find, purge the data, and if I’m feeling very generous, which is unlikely because I’m a greedy girl, I might send the van to a local chop shop and send you the address - if you’re lucky you might be able to locate a fender.”

“Dinner.” 

Mac shivered. She hadn’t been aware that Alfie had moved in so closely behind her, but she could feel him now. His warm, hard body standing behind her, not touching her, but the threat of it was delicious. The warmth of his breath against her ear when he spoke sent fissures of pleasure down her spine. Damn Sydney for being right about her; she did have a type. 

“Cover you in fucking diamonds, pet, just let me buy you a drink, or dinner, a fucking show, yeah?”

She wanted to lean back against him at the unadulterated need she heard in his voice. Powerful men desperate for her was such a turn on, and she was only human. Tommy’d had a similar affect on her. The growl of his voice, the feeling of his hands on her face, her body. 

“You and Tommy are so similar,” she whispered, hating how breathy it came out. Behind her, she felt the answering rumble from Alfie. “I say no to both of you, refuse to work with you, and next thing I know you’re both offering to buy me drinks, dinner - expensive gifts. One might get the impression you thrive on rejection.” 

“Sapphires,” Alfie whispered, his beard teasing the shell of Mac’s ear. 

Her shoulders rolled back, pressing her ever so slightly closer to him. What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn’t some nameless, faceless bloke on the dance floor in a club in the West End. His hand wrapped gently, if possessively around her hip as he moved himself flush against her back. She should push him away, move away from the warmth of his arms. This was foolish. A needy little sigh escaped her lips. 

“Classy woman like you,” Alfie continued. “Fucking Fabergé Eggs, yeah, nothing but the best for you.”

Mac giggle. “What the fuck would I do with a Russian egg, Alfie?”

He nosed behind her ear. “Anything you want, pet.”

She tilted her head to the side, providing Alfie greater access to her neck. Feeling the scratch of his beard along her sensitive skin had her trembling slightly in his arms. He tightened his hold on her, wrapping both arms more securely around her waist. Warm, large fingers teased along the waist of her skirt, gently lifting her shirt from where she’d tucked it earlier. Slightly chapped lips pressed against her neck as her eyes fluttered closed. 

The touch of of his fingers across her navel startled her from the pleasure induced haze she’d fallen into. 

“Wait,” her voice came out breathier than she’d intended, but the man knew all the right buttons to push. “This is insane, Alfie.” 

Alfie pulled his lips from her neck, helped her stand on her own before gently turning her to face him. 

“What is it, pet?”

“We’re not doing…this,” she made a nonsensical gesture with her hand. “Here, in my office in the middle of the day like we’re the leads in some tawdry bodice ripper you read at the airport because you’re too tired to care what people think of your reading choices.”

Alfie nodded his head. “Classy fucking lady you are, yeah, and you’re correct. This is your place of business. So, let me fix this, right, fix it by taking you out proper, a nice bar, good meal, then when you allow me to ravish you, and ravish you I will, there will be no nonsense about your place of work, about fucking society norms and propriety, right, none of that.” 

“I can’t do that,” Mac blurted.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Tommy - ”

“Fuck Tommy.”

Mac laughed. “He took me to one of his clubs, took me dancing, kissed me like it was his fucking job.”

“That’s because he’s fucking smart. Knows a beautiful woman when he sees one, right, and decides to get his hands on her before some other bloke does.” 

“Then you understand why I have to decline your offer. Both of them.” 

Alfie frowned, stroked his beard. “Are you Jewish, pet?”

Mac shook her head. “No, not that it matters.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, yeah? It does fucking matter because it means I can’t offer you lifelong commitment, right, can’t offer you a forever sort of relationship, the type I think Thomas Shelby might be inclined to persuade you into, yeah that sounds like ‘im. Since you’re a fucking heathen, I can only offer you a good time, but nothing can come of it which means Tommy, right, he can come in and woo you, take the time to convince you of his better nature, if a Godless thing like him ‘as such a thing, but he can offer you that. Me, I’m just offering drinks.” 

“We went from diamonds and sapphires and fucking Fabergé Eggs to drinks and what, friends with benefits until Tommy decides he wants to put a ring on it? Is that what you actually said?”

Alfie nodded.

“Are you bloody well out of your goddamned mind?” 

“Wot?”

“Oh my fucking god, you’re insane.”

“You’re making a much bigger fuss about this than is strictly necessary, pet.”

Mac shook her hair out of her face before tucking her shirt back into the waist of her pants. 

“You can collect your man on your way out, Mister Solomons. I’ll have one of the guards escort you; can’t have you getting lost in my building.” 

“Pet - ”

Mac ignored him, pressed the call button on her phone and waited for a response. “Katie, can you please send one of the boys in? Mr. Solomons is ready to leave, and he needs to pick up his baggage on the way out.” 

She caught the laugh Alfie tried to hide. Part of her was amused, and she wasn’t quite as offended as she put on. It wasn’t as though she and Tommy were, well, anything. Not really. But. Boundaries - especially in her line of work - were important. Something she’d learned a long time ago. And a fling with a man, no matter how attractive she found him, wasn’t worth the risk. 

“Miss Theil?” 

She looked up. “Brody, thank you. Please take Mr. Solomons to the holding area where his associate has been waiting. Our business is concluded.” 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

Alfie took two steps towards the door before turning to face her. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Theil. I look forward to seeing you again for a bit of rum.” 

Mac’s smile was thin. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Mister Solomons. Seems it might not rain.”

Part 7

Master List

Tag List: @polishcrazyone​  @allie131313​  @highgardenrosexx​  @stevie75​

[majorarc]

Adding onto this, but the Disney Animation Strike of 1941 also helped show how much of an asshole Walt Disney could be. He believed unions were a sign of socialism and communism, and when his animators went on strike, it hit the company BIG TIME.

People in the company were tired of the shorted pay, the unpaid overtime, and the amount of constraints on their own creativity. Walt had tried to head this off by creating a counterfeit union in the company, called the Federation of Screen Cartoonists, and even had Art Babbitt, a beloved animator in the company, lead the union.

However, the Federation of Screen Cartoonists ended up disbanding, after their attempt to open contract negotiations was shot down by Roy O. Disney, a Disney CEO. But that wasn't the end of unions in Disney. NOPE! Because The Screen Cartoonists Guild came to Disney, encouraging workers to join, and who would stand up and chair Disney's chapter in the SCG? Art Babbitt! And this was after Disney tried to convince Babbitt to help Disney push back against the guild. Disney decided the only due course, as reaction, would be to start a mass firing spree, and on that firing list was Art Babbitt.

If Disney hoped that the firing would knock his remaining workers into obedient order, he was wrong. Because it ended up encouraging hundreds of workers to strike, and, for the five weeks the strike laster, Disney found himself having to drive to work, through a mass crowd of picketers, at the gates of his studio, and make eye contact with Art Babbitt. Apparently, on one occasion, he even leapt out of his car to attack Babbitt.

Despite the amount of picketing, and the effect it had on Walt's business, Walt tried to say that his workers' concerns about labor were "un-American", and even produced anti-union propaganda. But his methods failed, and the National Labor Relations Board ruled in favor of the strikers.

That BURNED Disney something bad. And, six years later, he was more than happy to go before the House Un-American Activities Committee on Capitol Hill in Washington D.C., and claim that the strike had all been from the influence of communism, and even named three people as communist influencers: Herb Sorrell, William Pomerance, and David Hilberman. And by doing that, Walt helped to make those mens' lives miserable from then on.

He also kept record of which of his workers had been part of the strike, and when downsizing had to be done at the House of Mouse, Walt cut the workers from the union first. He also had several of the strikers blacklisted by the HUAC, because nothing says "fuck you" like calling someone a communist.

You know, with all the trouble over the live action Snow White remake and how long it's actually taken to make it, it would have been the perfect opportunity for another studio to make a film about Adriana Caselotti, who voiced Snow White but wasn't even told she was working on a full length film and only realised it at the premiere, was paid only $970 (roughly $21,217 in 2024) for the job, wasn't credited for the role and basically had her career in films ruined before it even started, because dear old Walt Disney refused to let her take other roles: 'I'm sorry, but that voice can't be used anywhere. I don't want to spoil the illusion of Snow White.'

[commercialmortgagebroker]

  Line of Credit for un-entitled Residential Land Financial Compound was approached by a new prospective client seeking a Line of Credit  to fund land purchases in Southern California. After carefully reviewing their unique needs and requirements, Financial Compound was able to successfully negotiate and secure a credit facility to fund deposits and entitlement costs for land purchases in Southern California. During the escrow period, the borrower typically secures entitlements and flips the contract to a home-builder after adding value. The lender, with whom Financial Compound has a strong relationship and track record of success, was able to offer this Land Line of Credit for un-entitled residential land to a new client by securing the lien with a personal guarantee as well as encumber another undeveloped land site owned by the borrower, allowing the lender to offer competitive interest rate and terms that met the borrower's needs.  Our client was able to borrow funds for escrow deposits and entitlement costs during the escrow period, and re-sell or flip the contract to a home-builder without taking title to the acreage.   Un-ending Line of Credit The interest rate is floating at Prime + 1.5%, interest only, with interest charged only on the outstanding balance each month. The lender charged a 1% lender fee, and there was no prepayment penalty.  It is for a 2 year term with no cleanup provision, so that the line can be drawn and paid down as many times as desired over its term, making it suitable for commercial developers looking for short-term financing solutions.  Most credit lines require the borrower to pay the loan down to zero for 1 day each year, appropriate referred to as a 'revolving line of credit'. In this case, due to the characteristics of the transaction and the collateral and support structured by commercial mortgage broker Finanical Compound, the borrower is able to keep funds oustading for the entire loan term.  This releiving day to day pressue that our client would otherwise be subjected to. Commercial mortgage broker Financial Compound likes to call this loan structure an "un-ending line of credit".  This loan structure, a product designed an engineering by Financial Compound, enabled our client to move forward and open escrows on multiple unentitled residential land purchases quickly and efficiently without any obstacles or delays.   [caption id="attachment_7662" align="aligncenter" width="1225"] Line of Credit for Residential Land Developer[/caption]     Commercial mortgage broker Financial Compound, with a proven track record of structuring complex yet elegant loan terms, has become one of the most trusted names in commercial mortgage brokerage.  How can we be of service to your commercial real estate projects?   In today’s competitive real estate environment, having flexible access to capital is critical for success. Land developers, especially those operating in fast-moving markets like Southern California, must think creatively in order to allocate their capital most efficiently. A dedicated line of credit structured for residential land purchases provides the agility and financial strength needed to close transactions with confidence.  At Financial Compound, we recognize that every borrower’s situation is unique. That is why we customize each financing solution to align with the client’s development strategy, timing needs, and risk profile. Whether securing land for entitlement, future ground-up construction, or flipping contracts for profit, our financing structures are designed to maximize leverage while maintaining strong underwriting standards acceptable to lenders.

[darkmaga-returns]

Here’s a pop quiz: When can an Army colonel overrule the Secretary of Defense? It happened last week for probably the first time in modern history. The short answer is: Even in the military, the Secretary of Defense cannot change the rules and procedures for criminal prosecutions and tell military judges how to try cases.

Here is the backstory.

For years, the feds told us that Osama bin Laden was the 9/11 mastermind. Then, after they murdered bin Laden in his home in Pakistan in 2011, they decided that Khalid Shaikh Mohammed was the real mastermind and they would try him in a military court and seek the death penalty. After all, he deliberately set in motion calculated events that resulted in the murders of nearly 3,000 Americans.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when we learned that a plea agreement had been entered into by way of a signed contract between the retired general in the Pentagon who is supervising all Gitmo prosecutions, the Gitmo defendants and defense counsel, and the Gitmo military prosecutors. The agreement provides that in return for a guilty plea, Mohammed and others will serve life terms at Gitmo, rather than be exposed at trial to the death penalty or serving their sentences at America’s hellhole in Florence, Colorado. The guilty plea is to include public and detailed recitations of guilt.

So far, this is straightforward. While the trial judge may have given his nod of approval to the terms of the agreement, under the federal rules of criminal procedure, the agreement is not final until the judge hears the defendants actually admit guilt under oath in a public courtroom and then accepts the plea in a written order.

That admission has not yet taken place because Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin, who learned of the plea agreement while traveling, removed the authority of Gen. Susan Escallier, who is supervising the prosecution, to enter into plea agreements without his express approval.

Thereupon, defense counsel asked the judge in the case, Col. Matthew McCall, to enforce the agreement anyway since it is a signed contract, and schedule the plea hearing at which Mohammed and others will presumably comply with their obligations to spill the beans on this 23-year-old case.

The military prosecutors — who initiated the plea negotiations two years ago because they recognized that they cannot ethically defend the torture regime of President George W. Bush — complied with Pentagon orders and asked Judge McCall to reject the plea.

Last week, the judge denied the government’s request and rejected the Pentagon’s order and scheduled hearings at which Mohammed and the other defendants will presumably acknowledge their guilt under oath.

[misfitwashere]

October 1, 2024 

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

OCT 2

More than 45,000 U.S. dock workers went on strike today for the first time since 1977, nearly 50 years ago. The International Longshoremen's Association union, which represents 45,000 port workers, is negotiating with the United States Maritime Alliance (USMX) employer group over a new contract. The strike will shut down 36 ports from Maine to Texas, affecting about half the country’s shipping. Analysts from J.P. Morgan estimate that the strike could cost the U.S. economy about $5 billion a day. The strikers have said they will continue to unload military cargo.

Dockworkers want a 77% increase in pay over six years and better benefits, while USMX has said it has offered to increase wages by nearly 50%, triple employer contributions to retirement plans, and improve health care options. In the Washington Post, economics columnist Heather Long pointed out that the big issue at stake is the automation that threatens union jobs.

Although the strike threatens to slow the economy depending on how long it lasts, President Joe Biden has refused requests to force the strikers back to work, reiterating his support for collective bargaining. He noted that ocean carriers have made record profits since the pandemic—sometimes in excess of 800% over prepandemic levels—and that executive compensation and shareholder profits have reflected those profits. “It’s only fair that workers, who put themselves at risk during the pandemic to keep ports open, see a meaningful increase in their wages as well,” Biden said in a statement.  

In the presidential contest, the Trump-Vance campaign is trying to preserve its false narrative. In Wisconsin today, Trump accused Vice President Harris of murder—although he appeared to get confused about the victim—and claimed that she has a phone app on which the heads of cartels can get information about where to drop undocumented immigrants. He also said that Kim Jong Un of North Korea is trying to kill him.

When asked if he should have been tougher on Iran after it launched ballistic missiles in 2020 on U.S. forces in Iraq, leaving more than 100 U.S. soldiers injured, Trump rejected the idea that soldiers with traumatic brain injuries were actually hurt. He said “they had a headache” and said he thought the attack “was a very nice thing because they didn’t want us to retaliate.”

Trump also backed out of a scheduled interview with 60 Minutes that correspondent Scott Pelley was slated to conduct on Thursday. 60 Minutes noted that for more than 50 years, the show has invited both campaigns to appear on the broadcast before the election and this year, both campaigns agreed to an interview. Trump’s spokesperson complained that 60 Minutes“insisted on doing live fact checking, which is unprecedented.” Vice President Kamala Harris will participate in her interview as planned. 

The campaign’s resistance to independent fact checking of their false narrative came up in tonight’s vice presidential debate on CBS between Minnesota governor Tim Walz, Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris’s running mate, and Ohio senator J.D. Vance, running mate for Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump. CBS Evening News anchor Norah O'Donnell and Face the Nation moderator and chief foreign affairs correspondent Margaret Brennan moderated the debate.

Walz’s goal in the debate was to do no harm to Vice President Harris’s campaign, and he achieved that. Vance’s goal was harder: to give people a reason to vote for Donald Trump. It is doubtful he moved any needles there. 

The moments that did stand out in the debate put a spotlight on Vance’s tenuous relationship with the truth. When Vance lied again about the migrants in Springfield, Ohio, who are in the United States legally, Brennan added: "Just to clarify for our viewers, Springfield, Ohio, does have a large number of Haitian migrants who have legal status."

Vance responded: "The rules were that you guys weren't going to fact-check.”

There were two other big moments of the evening, both based in lies. First, Vance claimed that Trump, who tried repeatedly to repeal or weaken the Affordable Care Act, “saved” it. Then, Walz asked Vance directly if Trump lost the 2020 presidential election. Vance refused to answer, saying he is “focused on the future,” and warned that “the threat of censorship” is the real problem in the U.S. 

Walz said: “That’s a damning non-answer.” 

Former chair of the Republican Party Michael Steele said after the debate: “I don't care where you are on policy…. If you cannot in 2024 answer that question, you are unfit for office.”

It was significant that Vance tried to avoid saying either that Trump won in 2020—a litmus test for MAGA Republicans—or that he lost, a reflection of reality. While this debate probably didn’t move a lot of voters for the 2024 election, what it did do was make Vance look like a far more viable candidate than his running mate. Waffling on the Big Lie seemed designed to preserve his candidacy for future elections.

It seems likely that the message behind Vance’s smooth performance wasn’t lost on Trump. As the debate was going on, Trump posted: “The GREAT Pete Rose just died. He was one of the most magnificent baseball players ever to play the game. He paid the price! Major League Baseball should have allowed him into the Hall of Fame many years ago. Do it now, before his funeral!” 

Former Cincinnati Reds baseball player Rose died yesterday at 83. 

—

[dominateeye]

The IWW is a "union union", but it isn't a ready-made union.

Most other unions have a standardized process for organizing a workplace: you tell them you want your workplace to be union, they give you union cards, tell you to sign up your coworkers and have a vote, win that vote, and then they say they'll solve your problems for you and give you the standard union benefits package.

One problem with this approach is that not every workplace has enough people who trust unions to win a vote, and the union can't prove itself to those people until the vote is won. Another is that even if numbers are on your side, the company can still pull underhanded (and often illegal but un- or under-punished) tricks to suppress the pro-union vote enough to either win the vote for themselves or call the results into question, if they can't delay the vote and increase workload long enough to make all the pro-union people leave the job anyway. And if you do win, you then have to trust the union's top-down outside representatives to actually care about your concerns and put them before the union's profit margins that quarter.

The IWW is different because our plan is different... because you make it, every time.

We don't tell you to follow a playbook and give you the cold shoulder if your job is different. When you join the IWW and tell us you want to organize, no matter what your job is or what industry your company operates in, we don't give you a bunch of cards to get signed and tell you to come back when you're done. We sit down with you and ask questions about your job and your coworkers. With these questions, we help you build connections with the people you work with, both as prospective union members and as people. Then, when you've built those connections, we help you ask them to join the IWW too. When they do, we help you form and grow a committee to make decisions collectively. And then we ask you what you want to make happen, and how we can help you get there.

You drive the process, not us. When the union confronts the boss, we don't send someone down from HQ in Chicago—you and your coworkers do the talking, and we back you up with everything we have. If you want to negotiate a contract and get government recognition, we can help you do that, and you get to set the terms. But if you want to get results without waiting for government and corporate approval, we can help you do that too. And whatever benefits you win are tailored to what you and your coworkers need—when other unions don't want to push for that raise or healthcare because none of their other shops have it, we'll fight for it right along with you.

There's one more benefit you can only get with the IWW. If you go on strike with other unions, you can expect support from other locals of your own union, and maybe a few sympathy actions from other businesses like the one you work for. In the IWW, you'll get support from every angle. Fry cooks, factory workers, lawyers, teachers, prisoners—industrial action isn't limited to one industry with us. With almost 9000 members in North America alone, and many of those members also part of other unions, there are no limits to the support you can get when you take action.

Of course, any union is better than no union. We stand in solidarity with other unions and cheer when any workplace organizes—you'll often find local IWW members on the picket line of any union action. But we believe our way is the best way to organize, because it's member-led, cross-industry, and international. Our way has worked at many jobs and in many countries—and we think it can work for you, too.

I wonder if work just.. got harder in the 2000s, comparatively.

[yourreddancer]

Heather Cox Richardson

More than 45,000 U.S. dock workers went on strike today for the first time since 1977, nearly 50 years ago. The International Longshoremen's Association union, which represents 45,000 port workers, is negotiating with the United States Maritime Alliance (USMX) employer group over a new contract. The strike will shut down 36 ports from Maine to Texas, affecting about half the country’s shipping. Analysts from J.P. Morgan estimate that the strike could cost the U.S. economy about $5 billion a day. The strikers have said they will continue to unload military cargo.

Dockworkers want a 77% increase in pay over six years and better benefits, while USMX has said it has offered to increase wages by nearly 50%, triple employer contributions to retirement plans, and improve health care options. In the Washington Post, economics columnist Heather Long pointed out that the big issue at stake is the automation that threatens union jobs.

Although the strike threatens to slow the economy depending on how long it lasts, President Joe Biden has refused requests to force the strikers back to work, reiterating his support for collective bargaining. He noted that ocean carriers have made record profits since the pandemic—sometimes in excess of 800% over prepandemic levels—and that executive compensation and shareholder profits have reflected those profits. “It’s only fair that workers, who put themselves at risk during the pandemic to keep ports open, see a meaningful increase in their wages as well,” Biden said in a statement.  

In the presidential contest, the Trump-Vance campaign is trying to preserve its false narrative. In Wisconsin today, Trump accused Vice President Harris of murder—although he appeared to get confused about the victim—and claimed that she has a phone app on which the heads of cartels can get information about where to drop undocumented immigrants. He also said that Kim Jong Un of North Korea is trying to kill him.

When asked if he should have been tougher on Iran after it launched ballistic missiles in 2020 on U.S. forces in Iraq, leaving more than 100 U.S. soldiers injured, Trump rejected the idea that soldiers with traumatic brain injuries were actually hurt. He said “they had a headache” and said he thought the attack “was a very nice thing because they didn’t want us to retaliate.”

Trump also backed out of a scheduled interview with 60 Minutes that correspondent Scott Pelley was slated to conduct on Thursday. 60 Minutes noted that for more than 50 years, the show has invited both campaigns to appear on the broadcast before the election and this year, both campaigns agreed to an interview. Trump’s spokesperson complained that 60 Minutes “insisted on doing live fact checking, which is unprecedented.” Vice President Kamala Harris will participate in her interview as planned. 

The campaign’s resistance to independent fact checking of their false narrative came up in tonight’s vice presidential debate on CBS between Minnesota governor Tim Walz, Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris’s running mate, and Ohio senator J.D. Vance, running mate for Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump. CBS Evening News anchor Norah O'Donnell and Face the Nation moderator and chief foreign affairs correspondent Margaret Brennan moderated the debate.

Walz’s goal in the debate was to do no harm to Vice President Harris’s campaign, and he achieved that. Vance’s goal was harder: to give people a reason to vote for Donald Trump. It is doubtful he moved any needles there. 

The moments that did stand out in the debate put a spotlight on Vance’s tenuous relationship with the truth. When Vance lied again about the migrants in Springfield, Ohio, who are in the United States legally, Brennan added: "Just to clarify for our viewers, Springfield, Ohio, does have a large number of Haitian migrants who have legal status."

Vance responded: "The rules were that you guys weren't going to fact-check.”

There were two other big moments of the evening, both based in lies. First, Vance claimed that Trump, who tried repeatedly to repeal or weaken the Affordable Care Act, “saved” it. Then, Walz asked Vance directly if Trump lost the 2020 presidential election. Vance refused to answer, saying he is “focused on the future,” and warned that “the threat of censorship” is the real problem in the U.S. 

Walz said: “That’s a damning non-answer.” 

Former chair of the Republican Party Michael Steele said after the debate: “I don't care where you are on policy…. If you cannot in 2024 answer that question, you are unfit for office.”

It was significant that Vance tried to avoid saying either that Trump won in 2020—a litmus test for MAGA Republicans—or that he lost, a reflection of reality. While this debate probably didn’t move a lot of voters for the 2024 election, what it did do was make Vance look like a far more viable candidate than his running mate. Waffling on the Big Lie seemed designed to preserve his candidacy for future elections.

It seems likely that the message behind Vance’s smooth performance wasn’t lost on Trump. As the debate was going on, Trump posted: “The GREAT Pete Rose just died. He was one of the most magnificent baseball players ever to play the game. He paid the price! Major League Baseball should have allowed him into the Hall of Fame many years ago. Do it now, before his funeral!” 

[rosszulorzott]

As of the early hours of May 16, the Netherlands has been under a far-right coalition government led by the fascist Party for Freedom (PVV), already the largest party in the House of Representatives. The coalition includes the conservative People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD), the Christian-Democratic New Social Contract, and the right-populist Farmer-Citizen Movement.

...

The coalition agreement has 26 pages. The document is not very specific on many points, and after almost six months of negotiations one might ask what they have actually been talking about during this long period. However, when it comes to topics such as migration and refugees, the fascist and xenophobic character of this government becomes very clear.

...

These paragraphs deal with the possibility of placing the field of immigration law under a state of emergency, governed without parliament. They also open up the possibility of ignoring international treaties on immigration and asylum policies.

...

Importantly, with its planned migration crisis law, the government wants to put all asylum procedures on hold for at least two years.

...

Moreover, the coalition agreement states that the government wants to “adjust” EU treaties and regulations on migration and advocates “a modernisation of the UN Refugee Convention” of 1951 “and will seek cooperation with like-minded member states at the United Nations” to achieve this. Many may laugh at the fact that a small country like the Netherlands wants to launch this initiative against the UN, but what if the far-right wins the upcoming EU elections? What if Trump wins the US elections? Leaders like Meloni and Sunak would also probably support it.

...

As could be expected from a far-right government, the document also announces “a visible presence and more police and police stations in the districts, in the neighbourhoods, in the regions; the criminal investigation department will be strengthened”, and there will be harsher penalties for “deviant behaviour” – a term not described in detail. There is to be a clear distinction between peaceful demonstrators and people who jeopardise “public order”, with significantly harsher penalties. The definition of what a terrorist organisation is also to be expanded – again the document does not say exactly how.

...

The coalition agreement also states that public broadcasting in the Netherlands needs to be reformed, with a cut of 100 million Euros. Decision-making processes are to be streamlined. What this sentence exactly means is not described. And of course, climate denier Wilders is also taking aim at several carbon-cutting measures, with the promise to raise the daytime motorway speed limit back to 130 km/h and renewing the subsidy on “red diesel” for farmers.

just copying the header image here bc it's so cool :)

the main question today is but what if the far-right wins the upcoming EU elections?

fortunately there are several people's initiatives you can join to help the work against this possibility

from Avaaz

from WeMove Europe

as some examples

check out the campaigns, find your tribe, find the way you want to be part of the action

[unsdggoal4qualityeducation]

UNDERSTANDING is AN UNIQUE USEFUL COMPONENT!!!!

Understanding is a COGNITIVE PROCESS that allows people to use concepts to model an abstract or physical object, such as a person, situation, or message.

It can also be defined as the MENTAL GRASP or comprehension of something, or the ability to make experience intelligible by applying concepts and categories.

Understanding is a cognitive process related to an abstract or physical object, such as a person, situation, or message whereby one is able to use concepts to model that object.

Understanding is a relation between the knower and an object of understanding.

UNDERSTANDING can also refer to:

▪️A mutual agreement, especially one that settles differences or is informal and not made public

▪️A friendly or harmonious relationship

▪️An agreement of opinion or feeling

▪️A feeling of kindness and caring based on knowledge, especially of the causes of behavior

As an INTRANSITIVE VERB, understanding can also mean:

▪️To have the power of comprehension

▪️To achieve a grasp of the nature, significance, or explanation of something

▪️To believe or infer something to be the case

▪️To show a sympathetic or tolerant attitude toward something

Here are some examples of understanding in a sentence:

"He is well educated, understanding and intelligent"

"She has great understanding of us"

"He smiled at her, understanding her joke"

"His tone was kind, even understanding, yet it tore a sob from deep in her lungs"

"I cannot tell exactly when I began Lamb's 'Tales from Shakespeare'; but I know that I read them at first with a child's understanding and a child's wonder"

Understanding is a basic element of intimate connection and is what allows us to feel emotionally safe. To the extent that we feel accurately and empathically understood, we can trust and feel close to another. Feeling understood is an important part of what makes it possible to learn.

WHY IS UNDERSTANDING CALLED UNDERSTANDING?

From Middle English understanden, from Old English understandan (“to understand”), from Proto-West Germanic understandan (“to stand between, understand”), from Proto-Germanic understandaną (“to stand between, understand”), equivalent to Old English under- (“between, inter-”) + standan (“to stand”) (Modern English ...

HOW CAN I UNDERSTAND BETTER?

5 Tips to engage your learning and achieve deep understanding:

▪️Get curious about it. Start by cultivating curiosity. ...

▪️Read about it—a lot. Learn more about the topic by exploring its history, research studies, and how it's applied in real-world scenarios. ...

▪️Write it down. ...

▪️Explain it to someone. ...

▪️Put it into action.

WHAT IS AN EXAMPLE OF UNDERSTANDING?

a mutual agreement, especially of a private, unannounced, or tacit kind: They had an understanding about who would do the dishes. an agreement regulating joint activity or settling differences, often informal or preliminary in character: After hours of negotiation, no understanding on a new contract was reached.

WHY DO WE TEACH FOR UNDERSTANDING?

Learning with understanding is more likely to promote transfer than simply memorising information from a text or a lecture. Skills and knowledge must be extended beyond the narrow contexts in which they often are initially learnt.

Dr. Jemi Sudhakar, UN Educationist