#Secretary of State for Defence

[higherentity]

[in4newz]

[claraameliapond]

Brilliant. Congressman Ro Khanna brilliantly and expertly gets to the heart if the truth immediately , directly pinpointing the clear reality of unethical and disproportionate Israel and US conduct in Palestine during a congressional hearing on Thursday 29th February 2024, questioning US Defence Secretary Lloyd Austin.

[defencecapital]

Operation Sindoor: India accepts Pakistan request for ceasefire, with American push

By N. C. Bipindra New Delhi: India, on May 10, 2025, accepted Pakistan‘s request for a ceasefire under Operation Sindoor following a United States backchannel diplomacy to stop military operations of the last four days. India’s Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri, in a statement, said the Director General of Military Operations (DGMO) of Pakistan called the DGMO of India at 3:35 p.m. India…

[gurutrends]

United States not primarily focused on security in Europe - US Secretary of Defence

United States not primarily focused on security in Europe – US Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth, US Secretary of Defence, addressed the Ukraine Defence Contact Group, also known as the Ramstein Group, in Brussels on Wednesday. 

 In the talks, the US secretary stressed that ‘durable peace for Ukraine must include robust security guarantees to ensure that the war won’t begin again’. He also added…

[w4ndal0ver]

Seduction Techniques (mommy!wanda x sub!fem!reader)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: mommy!wanda maximoff x sub!fem!reader (set in the 1960s decade of wandavision, i forgot she doesn't have children at this point but I'm not rewriting it so pretend pls <3)

summary: You work for Stark Innovations as a secretary for Vision. After getting invited to a party at his house you turn up with a clingy and flirtatious colleague. Wanda immediately takes a likening to you, wanting to make you hers, but when she see's your colleague trying to mark her territory, she has to teach you a lesson.

content warnings: shameful mommy kink, gagging, slapping, praise and degradation, slut shaming, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, toxic possessive wanda, mention of innocence and wandas fascination in your age gap and inexperience, images linked to breast feeding, adultery and gloriying affairs.

word count: 8k (strap in, its a long one)

Seduction Techniques

Stark Innovations, you read tracing the words with your finger. You hadn’t been at the company long, but to be completely honest you had no idea what you were actually working for. You knew that it was a leading technology and defence contractor, known for pushing the boundaries of modern engineering, but that wasn’t where your specialities lied. You’d been Visions secretary for about a week now, basically just running files between different sectors, answering emails and calls, but mainly you felt like you floated around the brightest minds within a 40 mile radius of Westview. 

This morning you were sitting at your desk, papers scattered across the surface, trying to figure out what you were supposed to do with all the folders. The office as a whole is a large, sterile space, intimidatingly quiet and you would do anything you could to avoid being noticed by the people who worked around you. This was impossible considering the only woman in the office was sitting adjacent to your desk and every time you glanced over at her, she was always looking curiously at you. 

The door of the main office creaked open and everybody looked up as Vision walked into the room, visiting each and every person at their desk with little A6 pieces of card. Once he got to you he spoke in a professional manner, “I wanted to give you this,” He reaches over the unorganised mess of your desk, acting as if he was pretending not to see the state of all of his files, giving you the benefit of the doubt considering it was only your first week. 

You take the card, glancing over the elegant script. It was an invitation to a party at his house, seemingly addressed as a mildly professional birthday gathering for himself. “It will be good for you to meet some people outside the office so please come along if you can,” He suggests, “And get this sorted out, come on.” His hands gestured to the stacks of paper all out of order. 

You nod, returning the gentle smile, though your mind is already racing with anxiety. You hadn’t expected to have to attend something quite this personal, a considerable line you were forced to cross so soon. You looked around the room, nobody else seemed mildly interested in the invitation, clearly a usual event for the rest of your colleagues. You glanced down at the invitation again, it was signed, Wanda and Vision. 

As you looked up from your desk, the brunette woman from across the room was now perching against your desk. “Hi, I’m Natasha by the way, I felt rude for not introducing myself.” She spoke softly, her eyebrow raised slightly as you held your hand out to meet hers in a shake. “Especially considering the testosterone in the room.”

You both giggle, yours slightly more nervous than hers. “Are you going to this thing?” You ask, unsure if you’d be able to attend without a friendly face you could use as a safety blanket if things went south. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Her eyes flickering over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken, even if you weren’t entirely comfortable with how publicly she was speaking to you. “But if you’re going, maybe I could tag along with you?”

“Well I’ve got an invitation, so I guess I’ll see you there.” You laugh nervously, not wanting to seem too thrown by her advances, considering she was the first person, other than your boss, to make an effort to talk to you. Not seeing you as below her as Vision’s secretary. “Who’s Wanda?” You ask, trying to shift the conversation away from her advances.

Natasha’s raised eyebrows tell you all you need to know, her expression clearly surprised. “You haven’t heard about Wanda? Everyone knows who she is.” She smirks, stepping back a little as she sips her coffee out of her floral patterned mug. “She’s Vision’s wife, you’ll see her this weekend. Trust me, you won’t miss her.” She winks, brushing her arm past yours as she walks away. You just nod, feeling a strange flutter of anticipation in your chest at the mystery that went by the name of Wanda. 

A few days went by and you were finally in your car, parked outside the address on the envelope. You were a little later than planned, but the grandeur of Vision’s house sat in front of you and you felt a wave of nerves pass over you. It was taking every part of you to not pull out and drive away from the white picket fence that enclosed the well-manicured lawn and perfectly trimmed hedges. You take a deep breath and decide to just face it, knowing that this might be your only chance to be forgiven for what you had to admit was a very bad first impression on your first week. 

Inside, everything is even more pristine than the front, polished wooden floors and family souvenirs scattered purposefully everywhere that you looked. It was a warm and welcoming atmosphere, aided by the warm lighting and harmonies of multiple conversations that was happening in the main room. You felt a little out of place, glancing around the small crowd that had gathered all together. You pull at your white buttoned blouse, re-adjusting your collar and smoothing down the creases in your forest green pencil skirt. 

Your eyes quickly find Natasha, standing in the corner with a glass of champagne in her hand. She notices you immediately, flashing you a mischievous grin as she saunters over, a slight sway in her hips as she approaches you. “You made it!” She says, her hand sliding casually onto your lower back as she leans her hip slightly closer to yours. You stiffen slightly but you try to play it off, not wanting to break friendships already. 

“Yeah, I couldn't miss it.” You admitted honestly, feeling stuck in a state of awkwardness which was quickly cut off by Vision approaching you both, dressed in a well tailored suit. 

“I’m glad you could both make it.” He exclaims, his voice slightly tired from the endless introductions and greetings that he was forced into at his own party. He shakes your hand briefly, then glances over his shoulder. “Wanda, darling, come say hello.”

You feel the air shift as Wanda emerges into your eyeline. She’s breathtaking in a subtle, but devastating way. Her red hair twisted into a French plait, pinned elegantly at the back of her head, the soft curled strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing a deep green dress that hugs her curves in a professional manner, the material catching the warmth of the light just right. Her eyes are green, sharp, almost knowing as they settle on you. Then came her smile, one that could make you melt in an instant, making it hard to look away. 

“So, you must be the new one Vision’s told me about.” Her voice is rich, with a slight teasing edge that makes your hairs stand on end. She looks you over in a way that feels far too intimate for a first meeting, her eyes lingering just a little longer than they should, not remaining solely on your face. 

Before you have a chance to respond, someone calls her name from across the room. “Sorry I have been summoned,” She laughs, “But please get yourself a drink darling, don’t make me look like a bad host.” You watch her walk away, your eyes drawn to the casual sway of her hips, the graceful way she appears to move through people, like they magnetically moved and formed a path for her. 

For the next hour you tried to remain focused in your conversation with Natasha and other fellow colleagues who dropped in and out of your small circle. There was a pull in your chest that kept drawing your gaze back to Wanda, her auburn hair bounced as she spoke, that blush across her cheeks was a magnetic pull. Your stare always seemed to find her figure in the crowd, barely adding anything to any conversation. 

“I’m just going to grab another drink.” You say, interrupting the aimless conversation that you weren’t the slightest bit interested in. You, less elegantly, move through the crowd and through the arched doorway into a kitchen that was so suburban you thought you’d stepped into a film. It certainly was no match for your tiny apartment where you can sit on your bed and also open the oven at the same time. There was metres of space around you, but still photo frames and children’s paintings littered the room. 

You walked by, eyes catching a wedding photo of Wanda and Vision and you felt guilty for drooling over the way the housewife looked in her wedding dress. You immediately put the frame down, walking to the bottles of wine that were stacked on the counter, twisting the lid open and refilling your own glass. 

You’re lost in thought when you hear the soft click of heels against the wooden floor. You turn and your breath hitches when you see Wanda entering the room, a glass of red already in her hand, her lips, slightly wine-stained curling into a smirk as she catches your eye. 

“Hiding in here?” She asks, her voice low and smooth as she steps closer. You swallow hard, feeling your heart race in your chest, silently praying that she couldn’t hear it thump against your skin. 

“Just needed a moment,” You say, trying to sound casual, “And you know.” You laugh nervously, lifting your freshly refilled glass as Wanda’s eyes beam at you with satisfaction. The tension between the two of you is palpable, almost like you could slice through it with a knife. 

“Hm, I don’t think you’re supposed to refill your own glass, especially not at your boss's party.” She teases humorously, watching the pink flush into your cheeks and you hold up your hands ready to apologise. “Ah, ah no need, you’re always welcome.” She reaches over you, your back up against the counter as her fingers graze your upper arm as she grabs for the bottle that you opened. You feel the spark of the touch, sharp but settling as you swallow hard. 

“It’s a lovely party Mrs Maximoff.” You compliment, not sure what else to say. She looks down at you, satisfaction lies deep within her green eyes. She waves her hand as if to say she’d heard enough of the small talk all night. 

“I couldn’t help but notice how close you and Natasha are.” She asks with genuine curiosity, but you blink surprised by her unashamed bluntness. 

“Natasha? No, It’s not like that.” You stammer, caught off guard as your bodies remain intensely close. “We work together, that’s all.” 

Wanda laughs softly at your nervousness, her eyebrow arched as she presumed you were suggesting that she would have a problem with it even if you were more than colleagues. “Relax, I’m not that kind of woman.” Her eyes gleam as she takes a deliberately slow sip of her wine, never once breaking eye contact. Your flush was creeping up your neck now, unsure of how to respond. “So no one special hm? Pretty girl like you.”

You couldn’t almost choke on your small sip of wine at the compliment, the liquid getting stuck in your throat. “No, I don’t, most of my time is spent taking care of Vision and work.” You’re not sure why you’d lied, you spent the majority of your time worrying about your job, spending less time doing what you were actually paid to do. There was something about her gaze that was making you feel strangely exposed to the point you were making stuff up on the spot. 

Wanda’s lips twitch in amusement as she swirls the wine around her glass at your response, “Oh trust me, I know what that’s like.” There's a wicked glint in her eyes, and just as you’re about to ask what she means, a familiar figure fills the doorway as Vision walks into the room. 

“Wanda my darling, can I steal you for a moment.” Wanda nods instantly, turning back to you and rolling her eyes, but not before stealing another slow and lingering glance as she steps past you, her hand brushing your arm, this time her fingers squeezing harder against your skin, lasting far too long to be deemed as innocent. 

“We’ll talk later,” She says softly, almost under her breath before she slips out of the room, leaving you standing in the empty space of her kitchen, breathless and more confused than ever. You gulp down the wine, refilling your glass once again. 

You noticed how quickly you were getting through drinks, beginning to feel yourself get a little more tipsy. You were now perched on a stool in the living room, listening to the drunk slurs of Natasha still rambling on about something that you lost interest in about half hour ago. Your eyes were still fixed on Wanda, who by the continuous scrapes on the back of her neck and quick breaths that she took when she walked away from someone, you could tell was also becoming slightly more tipsy. She was holding herself better than you, somehow her heels keeping her stable as she pranced elegantly around in that dress that was driving you crazy. 

The evening continued to progress and the effects of the wine were at the forefront. It was more than a gentle buzz now leaving your thoughts clouded and your steps a little uneven. You were trying so hard to leave Wanda alone, but the faint clicks of her heels against the polished floor kept bringing you back to watching the way her emerald dress clung to her curves. You watched as a faint shadow of discomfort clouded her usually poised face and you watched her try to slip away unnoticed towards the hallway, which would have been successful if you weren’t watching her so closely. 

The tension in her shoulders when she walked made you feel uneasy at your core. Instinctively, you followed her steps, slow and measured, trying to stay upright as you trailed her toward the bathroom. You stop in your tracks when you hear muffled voices behind the door. You could recognise it anywhere, Vision’s voice stern and sharp cutting through the silence.

“You should’ve paid more attention Wanda. Do you know how stupid you’re making yourself look?” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it. You could barely make out her response, but the emotion in the silence that followed was clear. Moments later, the door flew open and Wanda rushed out, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t see you as she brushed past, head down, her heels clicking faster as she made her way to the back door, escaping into her back garden away from the crowd. 

You didn’t know what came over you, your heart racing at the sight of her as you followed her out into the garden. The cool night air hit your wine muddled brain and you spotted her sitting on the low stone wall that bordered the garden, her head in her hands, the hem of her dress sitting perfectly around her form. Her red hair was slightly messed from the evening, a few stray tendrils escaping the elegant french plait she had worn so proudly earlier, but you thought she still looked beautiful. 

You hesitated, questioning whether the wine was pushing you forward, but you needed to make sure she was okay. “Mrs Maximoff,” Your voice was soft as you stepped closer, she lifted her head quickly, her tear-streaked face turning toward you. In a flash, she wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself.

“Hi, sorry it’s my turn to have a moment.” She tried to laugh, but her voice was hoarse and the lie was painfully obvious. 

You sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. “You don’t seem fine,” You reach out, placing a comforting hand on her knee. While the contact meant to be reassuring, it sent a jolt of electricity through you both. 

Wanda���s lips twisted into a wry smile, her hand overlapping yours as a silent thanks, “It’s just hard you know, You think you’re doing everything right and then it's suddenly not enough.” She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to be a good wife, a good mother, but I don’t know what I’m saying, you’d have no idea, you’re so young.” You could hear the wine laced tone in her voice as she continued rambling, but the genuine hurt was written all over your face. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing her hair back gently, your fingers lingering at the nape of her neck. 

“You are an amazing wife Mrs Maximoff, Vision is lucky to have you. And your kids? They’re lucky to have a mother like you,” You compliment honestly, letting your wine thoughts take over, “You’ve got them all plastered all over your house, It’s obvious how much you care about them.”

She paused, her eyes widening slightly, a mixture of surprise and hope. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you both faded away.

“You think so?” Her voice softened, a hint of unexpected vulnerability breaking through. Yet despite it all, the tension hung tick in the air as she searched your eyes, her expression shifting. “You barely know me. How could you possibly think that?”

You felt a surge of confidence as you leaned in slightly, heart racing quicker than before. “I don’t need to know everything about you to see what kind of person you are.” You paused, letting your gaze roam over her face, the way the moonlight illuminated her features. “I can see good people from the moment I meet them.”

Her lips now formed a teasing smile, her eyes holding a certain depth that made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. They were flickering with something unreadable. She leaned in just an inch closer, her voice low and laced with flirtation. “Good people, hm?” Her fingers now create circles against the back of your hand, “Careful darling, you might find that I’m not as good as you think.” She tilted her head, deciding to go easier on your innocent face that responded silently to her teasing, “I can’t imagine a young, attractive girl like you could really mean that.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks, caught off guard by her compliment. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady, though you were sure she could hear the slight tremble in it. “I do mean it. I might not know everything about you, but you’re more than just Vision’s wife or your children's mother.” You shifted closer, your heart pounding harder in your chest as you dared to let your gaze linger on her lips. “You’re something special Mrs Maximoff.”

Her face darkened at your words, her smile fading into something softer, more intense. She let out a quiet breath, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation. Her thighs subtly began to squeeze together, every time you addressed her by her title rather than her name which she had introduced herself as, but you choosing to remain innocently respectful was driving her crazy. Wanda couldn’t help but imagining corrupting your innocent little mind, having you bent over for her while she fucked you dumb. 

“Special... is that what you think I am?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, dripping with curiosity and something else—something far more dangerous.

You nodded, the words caught in your throat as your pulse quickened, your heart hammering in your ears. Her fingers stopped their slow, deliberate movements and instead curled gently around your hand, her thumb brushing the side of your palm in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

Wanda’s eyes darted down to your lips, her breath warm and shallow. She hesitated, her voice now even softer than before, vulnerable beneath the weight of the growing tension between you. “You’re so sweet to me honey, and you barely know me.” Her lips now hovered inches from yours, so close you could feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. “I might not be the good person you think I am. What if I make you regret it darling.”

Your core trembled at how close her face had become to your own. The desire in her voice was slowly unravelling you, but instead of pulling away, you allowed the wine to give you the confidence to lean in further, closing the distance until your lips were almost touching. Your voice trembling, “I don’t think I could regret you Mrs Maximoff.” 

That was her final straw, she snapped the tension as she closed the gap between you with a soft, deliberate kiss, the kind that felt like a blow burn igniting deep in your chest. The touch of her lips was light at first, testing, teasing, but when you didn’t pull away from her advance, her hand cupped the back of your neck, tangling itself in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

Your fingers instinctively gripped her waist, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her now bunched up dress, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way her lips moved against yours, her tongue swiping your bottom lip before taking it into her teeth and tugging against it, making you whine desperately against her mouth. 

Wanda pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing uneven as she whispered, “I told you, I’m not as good as you think,” Her thumb brushed over your jaw, her lips ghosting yours again, a low, teasing chuckle escaping her, “But I could take care of you, you know that don’t you.” 

Her voice dropped lower, that familiar tone slipping into something more playful, more commanding, “Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special.” 

Your pulse quickened again, heat flooding your body as her words wrapped around you. You were at a loss for words, you were particularly inexperienced and you’d never had anyone that looked or sounded like the way Wanda spoke to you. You could feel the arousal pooling between your legs, your mind reeling from the kiss, from her touch, from the way she held complete control. Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached from behind you.

“Well this is cosy.” Natasha’s voice broke the tension like a whip. You jerked away from Wanda, your heart racing as Natasha appeared at the edge of the garden, her expression one of amusement, but there was something dangerously possessive flashing behind Wanda’s eyes. “There you are,” She slurred, her hand reaching out to grab your arm and you could see Wanda desperately trying to not stand up for your defence, “Come on, let's get back inside gorgeous.” 

You were too stunned to resist as Natasha pulled you up from the wall. You glanced back at Wanda, your heart aching at the sight of her. She sat there, watching you with a look that was far more than just jealousy—it was something primal, something dark.

Your chest tightened with a sense of dread, knowing you were in deep trouble. You’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but Wanda’s gaze never left your mind. You didn’t see her again before you left, and now, the thought of returning to work and seeing Vision—after kissing his wife in their own garden—was enough to make you feel dizzy.

That night, after you’d managed to find your way home, you felt a shameful amount of guilt and you couldn't sleep. Even as the moonlight spilled through the slats of your blinds, casting a soft glow across your room, your mind was racing. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. The way her lips had felt pressed against yours, the warmth of her breath, her voice, thick with desire, echoing in your ears.

"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special"

The words sent a shiver through you, settling deep in your core. Your body stirred, heart pounding harder as you recalled the way her fingers had brushed over your skin, the unspoken promise in her touch, the way her lips had lingered just a moment longer than necessary. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. Wanda was all you could think about, and the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

Your hand moved slowly beneath the sheets, almost without thinking, fingertips grazing over your stomach as a small gasp escaped your lips. You hesitated for a moment, but the memory of her was too strong, too intoxicating. Your body ached with need, your breath coming quicker as you gave in to the desire swirling inside you.

You imagined her—her red hair falling in loose curls, the way her lips had formed into that teasing smile. The way her eyes had darkened with want when she’d leaned in close, her voice a low murmur meant only for you. "You’re so sweet…" her voice replayed in your head, as though she were there beside you, whispering in your ear. "But maybe I’m not as good as you think..."

Your hand slipped lower, and you bit your lip as a soft moan escaped you, your body responding to the thought of her, the memory of how she’d kissed you in the garden, her fingers so possessive, so commanding. Every touch, every word, was still fresh in your mind, and it made your pulse quicken.

You imagined her voice, soft and sultry, like velvet wrapping around you. "You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?" you could almost hear her purring, her lips ghosting over your neck as her hand trailed lower, just like yours was now. "I could take care of you, make you feel so good…"

Your breath hitched as your fingers dipped lower, finally giving into the need that had been building since that kiss. The pressure of your hand, the soft movement, made you arch into the sensation, biting your lip harder as the heat coiled in your belly. You imagined that it was her touching your clit, making you gasp carefully at the touch. The image of Wanda’s smile, her possessive gaze, fueled the fire, every thought of her pushing you closer to the edge.

"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special…"

Your fingers moved faster, the wetness between your thighs a stark reminder of how much she had affected you. You pressed your head back against the pillow, your free hand gripping the sheets as the memory of her touch consumed you. The way her voice had dipped, teasing and dangerous, the way her hand had lingered on your skin—everything about her had left you aching for more. Your eyes were closed, the image of her face hovering over you, that smirk cutting through you as she watched you fall apart underneath her touch. 

Your breath came out in soft pants, your body tense as the pleasure built, spiralling out of control. It was all Wanda—her lips, her touch, her dominance—everything about her had ignited something in you that you couldn’t ignore. Your hips bucked against your hand as you chased that release, imagining her there with you, whispering in your ear, telling you how much she wanted to take care of you.

"Good girl."

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your soft moan filling the quiet room as your hand stilled between your thighs, shivering in the aftermath. The tension released in a rush, your body trembling as you slowly came down from the high, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

But even as the pleasure ebbed away, Wanda’s presence lingered in your mind, a constant pull that you knew would only grow stronger the more you thought of her. And you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

As you lay there, your heart finally slowing, one thought circled back in your mind, sending a thrill through you: this was far from over. You had tasted something dangerous, something forbidden—and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold yourself together if you got the chance to see her again. 

You woke up a few hours later to the sound of your alarm, hitting the clock you rose and was immediately drawn to the stickiness between your thighs from your activity the night before. You’d made such a mess of yourself to the thought of her, something that you had barely done before. Even without her there she made you feel so dirty and a part of you absolutely loved it. You decided to leave the same underwear on, enjoying how uncomfortable you felt sitting in the dampened fabric, a constant reminder of Wanda. 

Your head was aching from the alcohol you’d consumed, but you managed to find your way to your desk as the office settled into its usual afternoon quiet. You’d been struggling to stay focused all day and when Vision approached you earlier you felt your voice squeak, squirming in your chair as you felt your arousal grow just at the thought of his wife.

Once again, Natasha was hovering over your desk, finding reasons to brush her hand over your arm, her touch lingering in a way that sent mixed signals. You were trying your best to stay focused, but your distracted mind didn’t have the energy to shake her away from you. 

“I wouldn’t mind taking you out for a drink later, If you’re up for it.” She leans in, her voice low and teasing but unlike Wanda’s tone from the night before, she didn’t make you want to drop everything in order to go on an uncomfortably flirtatious date with your needy colleague. You felt bad leading her on, but your mind was elsewhere. 

Before you can even formulate an excuse, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, the familiar daunting sound of the click of heels against the laminated floor. Everything around you seems to freeze. Wanda Maximoff. You tense up, recognising her immediately before her mind catches up to you. She walks into the office, a few greetings heading her way from the other men sitting at desks closer to the door. Your mouth hung ajar slightly at her figure wrapped in an elegant dress. 

You try to maintain your composure, but as you watch Wanda glance around, her expression purposefully remaining neutral, yet you still feel the weight of her gaze land briefly on Natasha, who still stands too close to you. 

“I’m just dropping off some files for Vision.” Her voice is calm, smooth, but you can sense the underlying tension in the way her eyes dart between you and Natasha. 

“Vision’s actually out for the day, but I can take care of that for you.” You stand up from your desk, stepping towards her as you gesture toward the file in her hands, hoping to appear professional though your nerves are evident in the tremble in your fingers. 

Wanda’s lips twitch into a smile, her fingers tightening slightly around the folder as if she was considering whether to hand it over. For a moment, her gaze locks onto yours, and there's something intense, something dangerous simmering just beneath her incredible composed exterior.

“Are you sure? It’s important.” She says, her voice dropping with faux innocence, though the way her eyes linger on you sends a very different message. You nod, managing a small smile. 

“I’ve got it. You don’t need to worry.” You reach for the file, your fingers brushing hers briefly as you take it from her. That sends a jolt through your core and you can’t help but notice the slight smirk that pulls at Wanda’s lips as she watches your reaction. 

Natasha is standing behind you, recognising the obvious tension between you both. “Always so helpful, aren’t you?” She teases, but there's a sharp edge to her tone now. She steps closer to you, her hand lightly brushing your shoulder once again, as if claiming her territory in front of Wanda. 

Wanda’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, though her smile remains calm and composed. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” Her voice is velvet, but you can feel the jealousy bubbling beneath her words. 

“I’ll make sure your husband gets them.” Natasha says, a harsh tone to her voice, accentuating heavily on the reminder that Wanda is married. The brunette continues to hover far too close to Wanda’s liking and you watch her gaze harden, her green eyes practically burning with unspoken possessiveness. The air between the three of you feels suffocating, and all you can do is stand there, caught in the middle, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Suddenly Wanda retracts her previous statement as she was about to leave, “Actually we need to talk privately,” She doesn’t wait for a response, her hand lightly gripping your arm as she gestures towards Vision’s office, “Now.”

The way she says it makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like an order and you follow her without hesitation, your heart racing as she sways her hips purposefully in time with the click of her heel as she steps. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts. Wanda is no longer the calm, collected housewife she usually presents herself as. She turns to face you, her eyes darkening with something that was dangerously close to fury. Before you have a chance to greet her properly she shoves you harshly into the office door, the blinds to the door window already closed from Vision before he left. 

“What the fuck was that.” She spits at you, her voice dripping with disdain. She grips your jaw between her hand, forcing your face up to look directly at her, her thumb digging particularly hard into your cheek. “Natasha is a bit too friendly, don't you think?” She growls her name, her manicured nails scratching into your skin as she sputters her name. 

You blink, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanour, yet there was something so intoxicating and addictive about it. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what? Let her flirt with you.” She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing against your ear as her grip on your jaw tightened. “You think you can play around with people like her? You’re just a little girl, you don’t know what's good for you.”

Your heart raced at her words, the fire in her tone igniting a thrilling mix of fear and desire within your core. “You’re so young, so naive. You think you can handle this?” She steps back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she assesses your body trembling, wincing as she roughly tugs your face up further, making you uncomfortable. “You need someone to teach you, to take care of you. Someone who knows what’s best for you.” There was an edge to her voice, a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off. “No, don’t say a word.” Her voice was low, commanding, stepping in closer again, feeling the heat radiating from her fury. She leans into your neck, her grip tugging your head to one side as she licks a strong stroke up the length of your throat, biting into your ear lobe making you whine. 

“You need to learn your place.” Her other hand gripped your wrist, shoving you harder into the door, “Your place is with me, not that pathetic little whore.” You felt a rush of submission wash over you at her words. 

“Mrs Maximo-”

She delivered a sharp slap to the side of your face and you let out a sharp moan at the hot sensation spread across your cheek. “You don’t get to speak right now.” Her eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness, “You are mine, you listen to me.” Her hand finds its way to your throat, gripping you so tightly she’d cut the oxygen completely off, your eyes fluttering as you went lightheaded. 

She loosens her grip, not letting you go, your head still flush against the door looking up to her with your innocent eyes. “You’re not ready for that type of attention.” She was looking at you now as if to be assessing your worth to her, “I will teach you to be good, how to belong to someone.” 

“But I want to make my own choices.” You plead, your cheeks flushed as her grip tightened harder than before, your throat caught in the whirlwind of her anger and jealousy. 

“No you don’t” Her voice had calmed and her grasp around your neck was now just fingers brushing against your skin, finding the curve of your jaw and gently caressing you. “You want me to take care of you.”

You couldn’t help but nod, the truth of her words resonating deep within you. You had wanted this since the moment you set your eyes on her, you just didn’t really know what this was before now. You felt your innocent leaking out of you in the form of your arousal dampening your already ruined underwear. 

“You don’t think pretty girl, just let Mommy think for you.” Her fingers like fire brushing against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “Aw, you like the idea of that don’t you.” Her breath was stern against your neck, “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Her hand brushing the pink flush of your cheeks, one side significantly darker from the slap you received earlier. 

“Now Mommy’s going to teach you how to behave.” She teases, finally letting go of your face and your throat and you breathe heavily in order to catch up with your racing heart race. You’re stuck flush against the door, watching as she packs up a section of Vision’s desk, tapping the top of the wooden surface, gesturing you to come and sit up on it. 

You do it immediately, but as you go to perch against it she grabs your thighs from underneath and roughly pushes you to where she wants you. Her hands bunch your dress up to your waist, revealing your light pink underwear, a little bow sewn in the middle of the hem. She also saw that you weren’t wearing tights, but thigh high socks and she scoffed at the sight of you. 

She cups your pussy, only again chuckling at the warm dampness that immediately soaked into her palm. “Honey you’re soaking for mommy.” She places more pressure into you, the heel of her palm pushing dangerously into your sensitive clit, making you yelp. You could tell that you looked guilty, immediately remembering how you’d ruined them a few hours before. “Have you touched yourself in these?”

You nod shamefully and she hooks her finger under the hem at the side, yanking them down quickly and removing them completely from your legs. “Did you get some big feelings, pretty girl? Tell me.” She bunched your panties in her hands, bringing them up to her face and inhaling your sweet scent before tossing them to the side. 

You could choke on her words, but when she pushed your thighs apart wider, standing between you, forcing them to stay open as she roughly pushed two fingers inside of you, immediately curling them upwards at a relentless pace you had never experienced before. “Tell me.” She warns dangerously, quickening her pace, wanting to hear the desperate shake in your voice. 

“There was a funny feeling in my stomach that night you kissed me.” You panted heavily, “I had to touch myself, imagining that it was you.” You sounded so pathetic but Wanda was lapping it up, her thumb finding your clit as you leant back against the desk, holding yourself up by gripping the opposite end of the desk. 

“When was this pretty girl?” Wanda asks, her motions now remaining a continuous pace now that she’d found the one level higher than it seemed you could take comfortably. 

“Last night.” 

“And you wore them today.” Wanda scoffs, her smirk dangerous and sultry, her green eyes dark as she starts thrusting hard into you. You nod in shame, your head hanging low as she scrunched your eyes at the rough contact against your bundle of nerves. “You’re filthy aren’t you, a filthy little girl for mommy.” 

“Yes Mommy, I’m your filthy little girl.” You could barely string sentences together, each word caught in a high pitched moan. You hear footsteps from outside the office, people walking by and Wanda stills her movements, pulling out of you and moving backwards remembering that she’d forgotten to lock the door. 

“You sound so pretty for Mommy, but you need to stay quiet.” She whispers, her own hand dipping underneath her dress, feeling the soaked fabric of her own underwear before pulling them off. You watch in awe as her black laced panties hooped at her ankles, she steps out of them, the click of her heels louder as they step back to the ground. She bunches them in her hand, her other hand grazing your lips, prying them open before slotting her dampened underwear between your lips, “For safe measure.” She smirked, you looked so pathetically desperate with her laced lingerie gagging you. 

You felt dizzy as the taste of her arousal leaked onto your tongue, you groaned at the sweet taste of her, but your groan was painfully muffled. She delivered a quick slap to your thighs, you opened your legs immediately and she pushed her fingers back inside of you, once again not giving you a chance to react before she was thrusting harshly into you. “You enjoy the taste of Mommy while I ask you why you’ve come to work looking like such a slut when you don’t work for me, but rather my husband.” 

You try to defend yourself, but no words come out as your tongue continues to circle the dampened fabric, barely able to see as Wanda adds a third finger to the other two relentlessly working inside of you. “Who are you trying to impress?” You shake your head at the accusation, no other way of getting your words across. 

Your core is trembling as Wanda harshly fucks you with her fingers, her nails now digging into your back, forcing you forward to lean into her chest. The new angle made her go insanely deeper inside of you, leaving you moaning loudly into her chest. Your head rested right against her breasts and you could feel her painfully erect nipples against your cheek through her dress.

As her thumb begins to draw torturous circles around your clit, the sensations are way too stimulating for someone of your little experience. You tug desperately at the buttons of her dress and she looks down at you while her wrist continues its same rough thrusts. “You wanna suck on Mommy?” You nod frantically at the assumption and she smiles at you, placing a gentle kiss to your temple, your emotions confused at the gentle gesture while her fingers were fucking you dumb. She removed her underwear from your mouth, draping them over the edge of the desk as a constant reminder that she could gag you if you mess up. 

She allows you to undo the top of her dress, managing to find your way to her soft porcelain skin, her breast perked upwards and you immediately latch onto her hardened nub. You whimper softly at the feeling of your lips against her nipple, using your tongue to softly flick over her breast, making it easier for you to manage the pace in which she was fucking you, her nails gripping into your waist, pulling your front flush against hers as your mouth refuses to let go of your natural gag. 

Each time her thumb flicked your clit so precisely, you whined against her nipple, the vibrations making her wrist pump harder into you. She felt you suckles getting harder, your teeth lightly grazing as you felt your core tighten around her fingers. “You’re close aren’t you princess.” 

You nod desperately, letting go of her aching nipple with a pop as you look up at her pleadingly. “Those puppy dog eyes aren’t letting me forget how you let Natasha touch you, only good girls get to cum when they want.” Then suddenly all contact was removed from you and you looked up at her with desperate confusion. She brushes her hand across your lips, your sweet arousal lingering on your mouth. 

“Mommy?” You say, your voice laced with confusion as you are left on the brink of your orgasm, your hips jutting uncontrollably to try and gain contact. 

“Mommy wants to taste you, I’ll give you what you want once I hear what I want from that pretty mouth of yours.” She says, her voice stern as she drops to her knees in front of you, her hands caressing your inner legs through those sheer thigh-highs that were driving Wanda crazy. She imagined having you in her and Visions bed, ankles lied to your wrists as you lied on your front before she fucked you senseless with her strap. But she was more than satisfied as she smelt your arousal in front of you, your wetness glistening against your skin and your perfect folds. She was obsessed with the way your pussy looked, so tight and neat, perfectly untouched. 

Wanda pushes her hair behind her ears, diving in to consume you, taking one long lick from the bottom of your slit, right up to the top of your trembling clit. She looked up at you, trying your best to sit so she could see your face, your eyes crunched and bottom lip between your teeth. “Who do you belong to?” She asks, before sucking against your exposed clit, protruding desperately as she clasps her lips around it.

“You Mommy only you.” You pant breathlessly, your feet digging hard into her back in an attempt to stay still and docile for Wanda. She continued to suck against you, pulling back, kissing an individual kiss against your bundle of nerves. 

“Who is not allowed to go near you.” She says, before diving straight back in, this time her hand reaches the top of your mound, stretching your skin upwards so her tongue could flick harshly against your aching clit, pushing you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Natasha.” 

With the name spoken, her teeth gently nip at your clit and you let out an exasperated cry of pain before she soothes it with her saliva, spitting softly onto your cunt so her tongue would glide effortlessly through your folds. She pulls back one more time, enjoying the sound of your worn out voice, still trying so hard to please her. “What happens if Mommy finds out something like today happens again.” 

“Mommy will punish me.” You gasp, your core burning as the orgasm twirled in your stomach, threatening to rip right through you as Wanda maintains her hold, leaving your clit completely exposed to the rough attack of her tongue. You were doing everything you can to drag out the feelings of pleasure and pain against your cunt, not wanting this spaced out feeling to end, you knew you’d do anything she asked, take anything she wanted you to in this moment. With the grip of her nails into your waist, her tongue relentlessly working you up you reach the point of no return, the inevitable orgasm ripping through you at an intense level, your skin felt like it was burning apart as her name tumbled from your lips, her tongue not once stopping. 

She continued until you rode out your high, your hips rutting against her tongue as she tried to hold you down, but secretly loving the feeling of your body not being able to control itself, knocking into her mouth over and over again. Once you let out your last heavy breath, Wanda emerged from under your bunched up dress, one final kiss delivered to your entrance before immediately grabbing you into a soft, gentle kiss that shared your arousal through your tongues sliding against each other. 

“That's a good girl, I think you learned your lesson.” Wanda smirks, pulling you into a careful embrace as your body shakes against her hold. “Now you go back out there and pretend Mommy didn’t just fuck you dumb in your bosses office.”

[sayruq]

The Joe Biden administration will work with Congress on possible sanctions against the International Criminal Court after its prosecutor announced it was seeking arrest warrants for senior Israeli and Hamas officials, US secretary of state Antony Blinken said on Tuesday. Congressional Republicans have signalled they plan to introduce legislation that will impose costs on the court for its decision and are expected to force a vote on a measure that could lay bare the divisions with the Democrats over the Israel-Hamas war. Jim Risch, the top Republican on the Senate foreign relations committee, asked Blinken at a hearing whether he would support legislation to counter “the ICC sticking its nose in the business of countries that have an independent, legitimate democratic judicial system”. Risch said he and other members were working on legislation to address the court’s actions, which he described as “wrong-headed”. Blinken’s openness to bipartisan co-operation over the ICC is a sign of the level of anger in Washington over its request for arrest warrants for Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and defence minister Yoav Gallant. Blinken told the committee that while the “devil’s in the details”, the Biden administration would consider Republican proposals and “take it from there”. Please use the sharing tools found via the share button at the top or side of articles. “We want to work with you on a bipartisan basis to find an appropriate response,” Blinken said.The administration of Donald Trump in 2020 sanctioned top ICC officials in response to their efforts to investigate alleged US war crimes in Afghanistan. The sanctions were lifted by the Biden administration in 2021, although at the time it said it was opposed to the court’s actions relating to Afghanistan and the Palestinian territories.

[mariacallous]

Just after Trump’s re-election in November 2024, I wrote a column headlined ‘How to Survive the Broligarchy’ (reproduced below) and in the three months since, pretty much everything it predicted how now come to pass. This is technoauthoritarianism. It’s tyranny + surveillance tools. It’s the merger of Silicon Valley companies with state power. It’s the ‘broligarchy’, a concept I coined in July last year though I’ve been contemplating it for a lot longer. Since 2016, I’ve followed a thread that led from Brexit to Trump via a shady data company called Cambridge Analytica to expose the profound threat technology poses to democracy. In doing so, I became the target: a weaponized lawsuit and an overwhelming campaign of online abuse silenced and paralysed me for a long time. This - and worse - is what so many others now face. I’m here to tell you that if it comes for you, you can and will survive it.

This week represents a hinge of history. Everything has changed. America and Russia are now allies. Ukraine has been thrown to the dogs. Europe’s security hangs in the balance. On the one hand, there’s nothing any of us can do. On the other, we have to do something. So, here’s what I’m doing. I’m starting a conversation. I’ve recorded the first one - a scrappy pilot - a podcast I’ve called How to Survive the Broligarchy and I’ve re-named the newsletter too. This first conversation (details below) is about how we need a new media built from the ground up to deal with the dangerous new world we’re in. That can only happen, in partnership with you, the reader. The days of top-down command and control are over. Please let’s try and do this together.

1 When someone tells you who they are, believe them. Last week Donald Trump appointed a director of intelligence who spouts Russian propaganda, a Christian nationalist crusader as secretary of defence, and a secretary of health who is a vaccine sceptic. If Trump was seeking to destroy American democracy, the American state and American values, this is how he’d do it.

2 Journalists are first, but everyone else is next. Trump has announced multibillion-dollar lawsuits against “the enemy camp”: newspapers and publishers. His proposed FBI director is on record as wanting to prosecute certain journalists. Journalists, publishers, writers, academics are always in the first wave. Doctors, teachers, accountants will be next. Authoritarianism is as predictable as a Swiss train. It’s already later than you think.

3 To name is to understand. This is McMuskism: it’s McCarthyism on steroids, political persecution + Trump + Musk + Silicon Valley surveillance tools. It’s the dawn of a new age of political witch-hunts, where burning at the stake meets data harvesting and online mobs.

4 If that sounds scary, it’s because that’s the plan. Trump’s administration will be incompetent and reckless but individuals will be targeted, institutions will cower, organisations will crumble. Fast. The chilling will be real and immediate.

5 You have more power than you think. We’re supposed to feel powerless. That’s the strategy. But we’re not. If you’re a US institution or organisation, form an emergency committee. Bring in experts. Learn from people who have lived under authoritarianism. Ask advice.

6 Do not kiss the ring. Do not bend to power. Power will come to you, anyway. Don’t make it easy. Not everyone can stand and fight. But nobody needs to bend the knee until there’s an actual memo to that effect. WAIT FOR THE MEMO.

7 Know who you are. This list is a homage to Yale historian, Timothy Snyder. His On Tyranny, published in 2017, is the essential guide to the age of authoritarianism. His first command, “Do not obey in advance”, is what has been ringing, like tinnitus, in my ears ever since the Washington Post refused to endorse Kamala Harris. In some weird celestial stroke of luck, he calls me as I’m writing this and I ask for his updated advice: “Know what you stand for and what you think is good.”

8 Protect your private life. The broligarchy doesn’t want you to have one. Read Shoshana Zuboff’s The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: they need to know exactly who you are to sell you more shit. We’re now beyond that. Surveillance Authoritarianism is next. Watch The Lives of Others, the beautifully told film about surveillance in 80s east Berlin. Act as if you are now living in East Germany and Meta/Facebook/Instagram/WhatsApp is the Stasi. It is.

9 Throw up the Kool-Aid. You drank it. That’s OK. We all did. But now is the time to stick your fingers down your throat and get that sick tech bro poison out of your system. Phones were – still are – a magic portal into a psychedelic fun house of possibility. They’re also tracking and surveilling you even as you sleep while a Silicon Valley edgelord plots ways to tear up the federal government.

10 Listen to women of colour. Everything bad that happened on the internet happened to them first. The history of technology is that it is only when it affects white men that it’s considered a problem. Look at how technology is already being used to profile and target immigrants. Know that you’re next.

11 Think of your personal data as nude selfies. A veteran technology journalist told me this in 2017 and it’s never left me. My experience of “discovery” – handing over 40,000 emails, messages, documents to the legal team of the Brexit donor I’d investigated – left me paralysed and terrified. Think what a hostile legal team would make of your message history. This can and will happen.

12 Don’t buy the bullshit. A Securities and Exchange judgment found Facebook had lied to two journalists – one of them was me – and Facebook agreed to pay a $100m penalty. If you are a journalist, refuse off the record briefings. Don’t chat on the phone; email. Refuse access interviews. Bullshit exclusives from Goebbels 2.0 will be a stain on your publication for ever.

13 Even dickheads love their dogs. Find a way to connect to those you disagree with. “The obvious mistakes of those who find themselves in opposition are to break off relations with those who disagree with you,” texts Vera Krichevskaya, the co-founder of TV Rain, Russia’s last independent TV station. “You cannot allow anger and narrow your circle.”

14 Pay in cash. Ask yourself what an international drug trafficker would do, and do that. They’re not going to the dead drop by Uber or putting 20kg of crack cocaine on a credit card. In the broligarchy, every data point is a weapon. Download Signal, the encrypted messaging app. Turn on disappearing messages.

15 Remember. Writer Rebecca Solnit, an essential US liberal voice, emails: “If they try to normalize, let us try to denormalize. Let us hold on to facts, truths, values, norms, arrangements that are going to be under siege. Let us not forget what happened and why.”

16 Find allies in unlikely places. One of my most surprising sources of support during my trial(s) was hard-right Brexiter David Davis. Find threads of connection and work from there.

17 There is such a thing as truth. There are facts and we can know them. From Tamsin Shaw, professor in philosophy at New York University: “‘Can the sceptic resist the tyrant?’ is one of the oldest questions in political philosophy. We can’t even fully recognise what tyranny is if we let the ruling powers get away with lying to us all.”

18 Plan. Silicon Valley doesn’t think in four-year election cycles. Elon Musk isn’t worrying about the midterms. He’s thinking about flying a SpaceX rocket to Mars and raping and pillaging its rare earth minerals before anyone else can get there. We need a 30-year road map out of this.

19 Take the piss. Humour is a weapon. Any man who feels the need to build a rocket is not overconfident about his masculinity. Work with that.

20 They are not gods. Tech billionaires are over-entitled nerds with the extraordinary historical luck of being born at the exact right moment in history. Treat them accordingly.

There is much much more to say on all of the above and that’s my plan. But please do share this with anyone who needs to hear it.

How to Survive the Broligarchy: a new podcast

A month ago, I was feeling floored: at the moment in which everything I’ve been warning about for the last eight years suddenly became overwhelmingly real, I was also being dislodged from my journalistic home. The Guardian, my seat of operations for the last 20 years, the last nearly ten of which have been focussed squarely on this subject, has done a deal, in the face of fierce opposition from its journalists, to give away a core part of the organisation. More than 100+ journalists will leave the organisation, including me.

This week, the Guardian confirmed that the last edition of the Observer would be April 20 and my 20-year employment with the organisation would be terminated then. The same day, Tortoise Media, the new home of the Observer, wrote to tell me that they would not be offering me a contract. But now, instead of feeling floored, I feel energised. You’ll hear some of that energy, I hope, in this first episode of the new podcast that I made a pilot for this week. It’s embedded at the top of this newsletter and - when I figure out the backend - will be available on Apple and Spotify and everywhere else too. I have an idea that I explore in this first episode with two people much smarter than me that this might be the start of a journey to a creating a independent, open, collaborative transparent form of ‘live’ journalism.

My investigation of big tech, power, politics, the weaponisation of data, foreign interference, Russian oligarchs and social media has always traversed subjects and specialisms. I’ve drawn on the expertise of so many people along the way and in trying to understand this moment, I realised they are not only the people I want to speak to now, they are also the expert voices that everyone needs to hear. My idea is to make these conversations public and to build a community - a feedback loop - contributing ideas and suggestions and, hopefully, networks of action.

I’ve been doing some of this work with the Citizens, the non-profit, I founded back in 2020 (sign up to their newsletter here), but there is a small ray of hope, in the midst of the current crisis, independent media is in a huge moment of growth and the green shoots of a non-corporate, non-oligarch owned media system are springing up everywhere. I’m hugely grateful to the 55,000 people who’ve signed up to this newsletter so far but there’s so much more we can do.

I’d been kicking around this idea for a new podcast for the last few weeks and then a call with my friend, Claire Wardle, spurred me into action. Claire is a professor at Cornell, an Ivy League university in upstate New York, where she studies as as she puts it “our crazy information environment”. I first met Claire when giving evidence to a parliamentary committee back in 2017 and then we re-met at the TED conference in Vancouver in 2019 where we were both due to give talks and hung out in between paralysing bouts of fear and imposter syndrome.

That TED talk led to a years-long lawsuit for me. And Claire, who founded a non-profit called First Draft that co-ordinated newsrooms and researchers to fight mis- and disinformation, has also found herself under attack. She and more than 100 other researchers in the field have been subpoenaed by a congressional committee who accused them of being part of the ‘censorship industrial complex’.

It’s these sorts of attacks that are now coming for so many other people. My ‘How to Survive the Broligarchy’ column, above, was intended as both a handbook - how do we protect ourselves? - and a manifesto, how do we fightback against these companies? And that’s the ethos of this podcast too, bringing together a network of people who have the knowledge we need for this next stage.

Claire and I decided this first conversation should be about how the media is covering this moment and its inability to shake off the “business as normal” framing of the authoritarian takeover of the US government.

I include a voice note from Roger McNamee in the first episode, a tech investor - he introduced Mark Zuckberg to Sheryl Sandberg - who’s now one of the most trenchant critics of both Silicon Valley and the media. And Mark Little, an Irish foreign correspondent turned tech entrepreneur (one of his claims to fame is being aquired by Rupert Murdoch), who’s pioneered new media models joined us to talk about solutions.

The best and most enjoyable journalism I’ve done in recent times is two investigative, narrative podcasts. Sergei & the Westminster Spy Ring debuted in December at number one in the Apple podcast chart and the BBC’s Stalked is currently sitting at the top of the true crime and series charts.

And what Mark pointed out, which I hadn’t thought about before, is that it’s the “process” of these real-time investigative podcasts that young listeners like. And it’s true that what we’re doing in Stalked is really punchy: this week, we name the suspect who we believe to be Hannah, my ex-stepdaughter’s, cyberstalker, something the police abjectly failed to do. In Sergei, we uncovered a UK government cover-up of foreign interference. We’re doing both of these live, transparently, and showing our workings.

As Mark teases it out, this is the impulse behind this podcast pilot too. It’s also a “true crime” story: democracy has been murdered and there’s a serial killer on the loose. It’s a race against time to prevent the perpetrator devastating the US beyond repair and racking up a bodycount in Europe. (If you can’t or don’t want to listen to it, there’s a transcript here.)

If that all sounds a bit weird and experimental but also ambitious and unlikely, I’d have to agree. But the whole point is that we have entered a wholly dangerous new era and we need new ways of communicating, of doing journalism, of storytelling, of reaching new audiences. It may very well not work in which case I’ll try something else but I’d love your feedback in the comments below. If you have ideas for collaborations or building this network, you can email me at survivingbroligarchy@proton.me.

[fromkenari]

The Trump Administration is using Signal Messenger to discuss highly classified information and intelligence, and they are using it in prohibited ways because all conversations like this are meant to be preserved for records. However, national security advisor Michael Waltz set them to delete in two or four weeks.

Other Trump Administration officials in the chat were Vice President JD Vance, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard, Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth, Director of the CIA John Ratcliffe, Brian McCormack, who is a senior advisor on the National Security Council, and deputy White House chief of staff Stephen Miller.

Michael Waltz also somehow managed to invite the editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, who thought it was a disinformation campaign for days until the account for Pete Hegseth gave detailed information about plans to bomb Houthis in Yemen at 1:45 pm Eastern time on March 15th (which was two hours from the time the message was sent). When the journalist saw reports of bombings in Yemen at 1:55 pm that day, he immediately removed himself from the chat. He contacted the offices of many of the officials in the chat, and it was confirmed that the Signal Messenger group was real.

Yes, this is all kinds of illegal and not okay because you remember how much Donald Trump wanted Hillary Clinton jailed for having a private email server. They are using a publicly available app to discuss war plans.

[argumate]

US President Donald Trump is deploying 2000 California National Guard troops to Los Angeles over the objections of state Governor Gavin Newsom after a second day of clashes between hundreds of protesters and federal immigration authorities in riot gear.

Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth said the Pentagon was prepared to mobilise active duty troops “if violence continues” in the Californian city, saying the marines at nearby Camp Pendleton were on high alert.

they're gonna liberate California

[odinsblog]

The site of Palestinian-American journalist Shireen Abu Akleh’s killing in Jenin has been bulldozed and her shrine desecrated, in an unexplained early-morning operation on 26 October.

A surfaced road running between houses has been reduced to huge boulders of broken concrete, and earth dug to over half a meters depth. Vehicles passed up and down the lane. One day after, even walking amid the smashed rocks would be a challenge. The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) has joined its affiliate, the Palestinian Journalists' Syndicate (PJS) in condemning this act of vandalism and recalls on the International Criminal Court (ICC) to investigate the killing of Shireen Abu Akleh.

The road, Balat al-Shuhada’ Street, in the Jabriyat neighbourhood of Jenin is thought to have been ploughed up by heavy civil engineering vehicles at approximately 3 am on 27 October. Locals state that these were operated by members of the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF). Paintings of Abu Akleh, and tributes left on the spot where she was shot have beed destroyed.

Nasser Abu Bakr, PJS president said: “This is a monstrous act of destruction. Shireen’s family and friends have found some solace visiting the place where she was shot down, and placing tributes. This wanton act of vandalism is surely revenge for the report just issued by the UN that states that Israeli forces ‘wilfully or recklessly killed Abu Akleh’. It underlines the need for her case to the investigated by the International Criminal Court ICC, with which the IFJ has already lodged a complaint”.

IFJ General Secretary, Anthony Bellanger said: “I have visited this site myself and know firsthand how important it had become to those who mourn Shireen’s loss. It is hard to see this destruction as anything other than a cruel act of vengeance, of a kind that can only exacerbate tensions in Palestine. The sooner the ICC gives this case the attention it deserves, the better”.

(continue reading)

[skull-pun]

In 2024 at a rally in Michigan Trump said:

“If Kamala wins, only death and destruction await because she is the candidate of endless wars. I am the candidate of peace,”

We're not even half way through his second term and already we've had:

Threats to invade Greenland

Threats to make Canada the 51st State

Falling out with Zelensky in front of the entire world

Sucking up to Putin whilst punishing your allies with tariffs

Putting America's commitment to NATO into question

Starting trade war beef with China for no reason

Encouraging Israel to continue their genocide in Gaza

Allowing Israel to replace UN aid groups with privately owned American one's, ultimately allowingnto Israel to withhold aid from the Palestinians with zero consequences

More strikes on Yemen, one of the poorest countries in the world.

The Secretary of Defence sharing military plans to the world (twice).

India and Pakistan on the verge of war

Israel striking Iran without America's consent

Rising fascism in the Western World

Almost causing the next American Civil War

Bringing the fucking Nazis back

Need I say more?

Now look, am I saying that if Kamala did win none of this would be happening? No, of course not. I mean maybe some of the stuff at home wouldn't be happening, but the geopolitical stuff was pretty much gonna be the same whoever got in with some exceptions.

However, if you're going to stand up there and claim you're going to be the president peace then maybe you should, like, I don't know, maybe at least try to actually be that?

Right now all he's doing is escalating things or just shrugging his shoulders and being like "That's not my problem."

Dude

America is either entirely responsible or partly responsible for most of the conflicts in the world right now, and that was by design!

It's like when Aladdin tricked Jafar into wishing to become a genie.

"You wanted to be President? You got it!"

"And everything that goes with it!"

[sonyaheaneyauthor]

Trump’s team are behaving like reckless rednecks

Past Republican presidents understood America’s true interests. The incumbent woefully fails to grasp them

This week’s revelation in The Atlantic magazine that President Trump’s National Security team shared and discussed secrets about Yemen air strikes over the Signal messaging app reveals that the United States yet again fails to grasp that one of the first rules of intelligence is “need to know”. It also demonstrates an attitude befitting a bunch of rednecks swapping stories around a bar.

Supposedly these “guys” think military operations are trivial enough to put at risk in the cause of gossip and bravado. Never forget that the real casualties of vice-president JD Vance and defence secretary Pete Hegseth’s banter are brave men and women of the US armed forces who risk their actual lives to protect US interests. It demonstrates quite how ignorant the National Security team are of such operations. Firstly it is highly probable that the strikes were a team effort.

Intelligence from Gulf partners is likely to have been used. Such strikes involve a range of nations, not just the United States.

And secondly, what Team Trump clearly doesn’t understand is that upholding the freedom of navigation principle matters. If the West doesn’t, then China will assert itself completely in the South China Sea and Taiwan Strait; Russia will seek full control over the Northwest Passage.

In that scenario the US economy really will suffer. The isolationist Maga crowd just seem unable to comprehend that in today’s world everything is connected. Every shift by the White House creates a ripple felt across the farthest oceans. Every weakening of resolve encourages every adversary.

Having observed Trump 2.0 these last 50 days, it is becoming abundantly clear that those in leadership roles really have not travelled very much. I would be surprised if many of them have a passport. They seem blindly ignorant that we live in an era of a globalised world. It is a world governed by the very rules the US and the West crafted after the Second World War; a world that embraced free trade. Those rules weren’t just about trade but about morality and democracy. The United States embraced its leadership role and prospered from it. But Trump 2.0 seems to want to reject all that and feed the electorate’s grievances.

“A patriot loves his country. A nationalist hates his neighbours.” That best sums up the Trump Administration. But that great Republican president Ronald Reagan called it right: “We should beware of the demagogues who are ready to declare a trade war against our friends – weakening our economy, our national security, and the entire free world – all while cynically waving the American flag”.

The 1991 book Trumped! by John O’Donnell, one of Trump’s Atlantic City Casino bosses, tells us a lot about the President and his early days in business. His obsession with wearing suits, his conviction that the world was “ripping off” the US. A business agenda driven by personality politics, not commercial sense, goes back decades.

Every foreign diplomat should read it. The author’s experience is a good guide to who is now leading the free world – or not as it turns out. Donald Trump’s Atlantic City casino ventures eventually ended as rubble. This might explain why the Israelis are sceptical about his plans for another seaside resort. When assessing the current US administration, we should not let ourselves be distracted by our sympathies for the war on woke. Those policies might be good red meat to many of us but they are not the core functions of any government.

The war on woke is the easy bit. Building an economy, future proofing social policy and securing a nation’s defences are the hard yards. Anyone can demolish a building but few can build one.

When I heard Steve Witkoff, Trump’s envoy on Ukraine and the Middle East, speak earlier in the week about Putin, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was yet another step away from the US’s moral leadership.

Standing at Pointe du Hoc 40 years after D-Day President Reagan stated “There is a profound moral difference between the use of force for liberation and the use of force for conquest.”

The ex-real estate chum of Trump said Putin was not a “bad guy ”, who “could be taken at his word”. He then went on to parrot Kremlin lines on Russia’s legitimate claim to parts of Ukraine. The leaked texts of Trump’s security team reveal who they really are. They think bullying is leadership, allies are customers and trade is warfare.

That may play well in roadhouses of the Midwest but in the minds of our enemies it is an opportunity.

Rt Hon Sir Ben Wallace served as Secretary of State for Defence

[camillasgirl]

King Charles III and Queen Camilla will undertake State Visits to the Holy See and the Republic of Italy from 7th – 10th April 2025

The Holy See

The Jubilee Year On Tuesday 8th April, Their Majesties will visit the Holy See to join Pope Francis in celebrating the 2025 Jubilee. Held traditionally once every 25 years, the Jubilee is a special year for the Catholic Church; a year of reconciliation, prayer and walking together as ‘Pilgrims of Hope’, which is the Jubilee’s theme.

Nature and Sustainability The King and Queen will have an audience with Pope Francis. Their Majesties will also attend a Service in the Sistine Chapel, focused on the theme of ‘care for creation’, reflecting Pope Francis’ and His Majesty’s long-standing commitment to Nature.

Ecumenical Relationships In an historic first, His Majesty, Supreme Governor of the Church of England, will also visit the Papal Basilica of ‘St. Paul’s Outside the Walls’, with which English Kings had a particular link until the Reformation. ‘St Paul’s Outside the Walls’ is recognised as the Papal Basilica where reconciliation, ecumenism and relationships across the Christian faith are celebrated. Members of the Choir of His Majesty’s Chapel Royal and the Choir of St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, will perform in both the Sistine Chapel and at ‘St Paul’s Outside the Walls’. In the Sistine Chapel, they will be accompanied by the Sistine Chapel Choir.

The King will also attend a reception with Seminarians from across the Commonwealth and the British Vatican community. Meanwhile, Her Majesty will meet Catholic Sisters from The International Union of Superiors General, who are working around the world at grassroots level to promote female empowerment, through girls’ education programmes, improved access to healthcare, climate action and the prevention of sexual violence and human trafficking.

Italy

The Bilateral Relationship The strong bilateral relationship between the U.K. and Italy will be celebrated with a series of ceremonial engagements during Their Majesties’ State Visit. In Rome, on April 9th, as well as His Majesty’s audiences with President Mattarella and Prime Minister Meloni, The King and Queen will lay a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

The King will be the first British Monarch to address a joint session of the Italian Parliament. Their Majesties will also attend a State Banquet at the Palazzo Quirinale, hosted by The President.

Defence As NATO Allies, the U.K. and Italy share common defence interests, collaborating on initiatives such as the Global Combat Air Programme. This relationship will be marked during the visit by a joint flypast over Rome by the Italian Air Force aerobatic team, ‘Frecce Tricolori’ and by the Royal Air Force acrobatic team, the Red Arrows.

In Ravenna, Their Majesties will attend a reception in the Town Hall, marking the 80th anniversary of the province’s liberation from Nazi occupation by Allied Forces, which took place on 10th April 1945 (80 years to the day of Their Majesties’ visit).

Sustainability The two countries’ commitment to sustainability will be also reflected in Their Majesties’ engagements. In Rome, the Foreign Secretary will chair a roundtable on Clean Energy Supply Chains, with business leaders and others involved in the sector, and The King will then join to hear a report of the outcomes. Meanwhile, at a regional festival in Ravenna (10th April), Their Majesties will celebrate traditional Emilia-Romagna cuisine, Slow Food, and the region’s excellent produce. As part of this engagement, The King will meet local farmers, whose land and crops have been severely affected by devastating floods which have hit the Ravenna region in recent years.

Literature, Culture, Community and Heritage Their Majesties’ visit will also provide an opportunity to highlight the common cultural heritage shared by Italians and the British, whether that be a love of great Literature, or a desire to preserve Ancient Roman and Byzantine architecture and heritage crafts. It will celebrate the many ways in which culture brings the people of the UK and Italy together, creating a common bond.

In Rome, Her Majesty will meet school children who have been taking part in a competition to mark the 80th Anniversary of the British Council, describing or imagining a day in the life of their favourite literary characters.

In Ravenna, The King and Queen will view Dante’s tomb and Her Majesty will tour the Byron museum, uncovering the secrets of the great Romantic poet’s life in Italy, and attending a reception for local book clubs, libraries, book shops and representatives from Her Majesty’s charity “The Queen’s Reading Room”. His Majesty will visit the Basilica di San Vitale and the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, viewing their impressive mosaics from the 5th and 6th centuries and meeting artisans who are keeping this ancient art form alive.

[justforbooks]

Are Trump’s tariffs for real or an AI hallucination? I’m afraid the answer is both

Amid claims that a chatbot helped shape the key calculations, the president is now off playing golf. He’ll find the world economy in a bunker

There’s a scene in the very first episode of Yellowstone where the casino-owning Native American chief explains the basic financial logic of all casinos to an uncomfortable politician: “The gamblers’ money is like a river – flowing one way. Our way.” Oh no, hang on, wait … Not all casinos. In fact, it could be that when all is said and done, the historians looking for that one key fact to illustrate the eventual legacy of Donald Trump will not go with his two stunning presidential election wins. Instead, they’ll point out that in the 90s, he literally managed to bankrupt casinos. To repeat: this is a man who somehow contrived to bankrupt multiple casinos. Is he the guy to reshape the entire global economic order of the past century? Let’s find out! Either way, only 45 months of his presidency left to go.

Anyway: tariffs. Rather than using actual tariff data, the United States of America this week appeared to have genuinely used a basic ChatGPT-style model to calculate the tariffs it would immediately impose on friends/foes/arctic wildlife. This was called either “liberation day”, or the “declaration of economic independence” (sadly not abbreviated – yet – to DEI).

It was hosted in the White House Rose Garden by ancient gameshow MC Donald Trump, who was accidentally wearing his indoors makeup outdoors. Like many, I’ve tried to mentally detach from the fact that we live in a time when the US defence secretary has a neck tattoo or whatever, but it makes me feel at least partially alive that the presidential paint job still occasionally retains the power to horrify. Trump leered his way through his tariff presentation while appearing to have been made up by the technique that provided the climax to Joe Wilkinson’s RNLI speech on Last One Laughing (If you saw it, you know). It’s not so much foundation any more as cosmetic bukkake.

Forgive me, back to the economics. We know that Trump has always been obsessed with starkly simple numbers. Network TV ratings. The overall trade balance in goods (not services). And – before this week – the stock market. But now, like Bruno, we don’t talk about the stock market, no no no … Certainly not since it dropped 1,679 points in one day alone (the day after Trump announced the tariffs). Although please enjoy the pure hilarious happenstance of scheduling which meant that that day’s opening bell to signal the start of trading on Wall Street had been rung by the staff of wingnut media outlet Newsmax and Rudy Giuliani. Ding, dong – now just watch those stocks crap the bed. Seriously, Rudy – everything you touch! Then again we do have to remember that it was Trump himself who last year declared that “stock markets are crashing, jobs numbers are terrible, we are heading to World War III and we have two of the most incompetent ‘leaders’ in history. This is not good!!!”

Is he still marking presidencies on the same metrics? Alas, reporters are going to need to shout that inquiry over the fairways, as Trump has now repaired to one of his Floridian golf courses to host the first domestic event of 2025 on the Saudi-owned LIV Golf tour. It’s called class: look it up. And no doubt it’ll be fun discussing falling oil prices with whoever is over from Riyadh for the event.

Trump did offer one last comment on the tariffs before donning his big-boy golf pants. “The operation is over,” he said. “The patient lived, and is healing. The prognosis is that the patient will be far stronger, bigger, better and more resilient than ever before.” A speech I am positive I have heard delivered word-for-word on The Simpsons by ultra-shady physician Dr Nick. Meanwhile, in the back of shot, a Frankenfigure with a fish’s head grafted to a man’s body sits bolt upright, convulses wildly and dies within three foot of the operating table. Listen, you can’t save ‘em all.

Incidentally, Trump is not the only one reaching for medical metaphors. Take the chief economist at UBS Global Wealth Management, who this morning observed mildly: “We often hear that when the US sneezes the global economy catches cold. This is not the US sneezing. This is the US cutting off its own arm. The self-inflicted economic cost naturally weakens the dollar.” Mm. One indication that an economic plan is going badly is that there’s no one responding to the above by going “ooh, but is cutting off your arm even a bad thing?”. Different circumstances, of course, but there was a similar mood in the air in the UK after Liz Truss’s “mini-budget”.

Speaking of Blighty, Keir Starmer seems to have continued his policy of not poking the bear, and indeed to pretend to really enjoy it when the bear pokes you really hard somewhere really painful. According to Trump, Starmer is “very happy” about the 10% tariff kick he just took up the UK’s backside.

Still, perhaps there are already signs of slight directional pivots in the West Wing. Having watched global markets tumble while the White House absolutely insisted that the tariffs were not lazy ChatGPT-assisted gambits to provoke immediate trade negotiations, it wasn’t too long before Trump’s son Eric was venturing on to X with a take. “I wouldn’t want to be the last country that tries to negotiate a trade deal with @realDonaldTrump,” gibbered Trump minor. “The first to negotiate will win – the last will absolutely lose,” he continued. “I have seen this movie my entire life …” Weird, because I don’t remember this particular scene in the aforementioned Trump casino movie – or indeed several epic flops in the franchise.

Yet this was also a week where we were reminded that life is not just about the adult sons with whom we are saddled, but the adult sons we choose. Fire up the elegy muzak, then, for there is sadness in the air. Reports – hotly denied, which means nothing – suggest that Elon Musk will fairly soon be leaving his post at the “department of government efficiency” and returning to the private sector. Yeah, let that sink out. And then try to picture his Doge leaving party. “Sorry boys, tariffs mean we can only afford US beer. And, unfortunately, we eliminated spending on paper cups. On the plus side, the president’s makeup artist is just going to spray Bud Light in the general directions of your mouths, and she has a 30% accurate aim. Open wide, victors!”

All of which would seem to conclude this week’s look at Trump’s river, which a) is a river of effluent and b) only flows one way. Our way. What can I tell you? Buy shares in paddles today.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[sayruq]

Joe Biden has attacked as “outrageous” an application by the international criminal court for warrants seeking the arrest of the Israeli prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, along with senior members of Hamas, for actions carried out in Gaza. The US president sided unambiguously with Israel after the ICC’s prosecutor, Karim Khan, announced he was pursuing arrest warrants for Netanyahu and Yoav Gallant, the Israeli defence minister. Khan is also pursuing the arrests of three leading Hamas figures, Yahya Sinwar, Mohammed Diab Ibrahim al-Masri – better known as Mohammed Deif – and Ismail Haniyeh over Hamas’s deadly attack on Israel on 7 October last year. The prosecutor’s announcement prompted Biden’s most outspoken remarks in Israel’s support in months, with the president accusing the ICC of drawing a false moral equivalence between the country and Hamas, a militant Islamist group that has run Gaza since 2006. “The ICC prosecutor’s application for arrest warrants against Israeli leaders is outrageous,” Biden said in the statement. “And let me be clear: whatever this prosecutor might imply, there is no equivalence – none – between Israel and Hamas. We will always stand with Israel against threats to its security.” Biden’s comments were echoed by Antony Blinken, the secretary of state, who said the US “fundamentally rejects” the decision to seek the arrests of Israeli officials and warned that it could jeopardise efforts to reach a ceasefire.He also accused the ICC of overstepping its authority. “The United States has been clear since well before the current conflict that ICC has no jurisdiction over this matter,” Blinken said. “The ICC was established by its state parties as a court of limited jurisdiction. Those limits are rooted in principles of complementarity, which do not appear to have been applied here amid the prosecutor’s rush to seek these arrest warrants rather than allowing the Israeli legal system a full and timely opportunity to proceed.” The ICC’s move follows a separate case currently being heard by a different court, the international court of justice, of accusations – brought by South Africa – that Israel is committing genocide in its response to last October’s attack. Israel strenuously denies the allegation.