#US work visas for professionals

[usadvlottery]

Embark on a professional odyssey through Employment-Based Immigration in the USA, a gateway for skilled individuals and professionals seeking career opportunities on American soil. This immigration pathway encompasses various visa categories, from the widely recognized H1B to employment-based green cards, providing a diverse spectrum of professionals the chance to contribute to the vibrant tapestry of the U.S. job market. Explore stories of achievement, resilience, and innovation as individuals navigate the complexities of employment-based immigration, fostering economic growth and enriching industries across the nation. Join us in celebrating the success stories of those who have turned their ambitions into reality, leaving an indelible mark on the ever-evolving landscape of the American workforce.

[npzlawyersforimmigration]

Our registration page is up:

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/gv-lunchlearn-navigating-complexities-of-h-1b-cap-exempt-l-1-e-2-visas-tickets-769229735847?aff=oddtdtcreator

Global Ventures Program Manager

Research Park at Florida Atlantic University.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Faye Schulman

Faye Schulman was a young Jewish photographer in Poland who became a resistance fighter after her family was slaughtered by the Germans. For the next two years, she took pictures of what she witnessed, leaving an extensive photographic record for posterity.

Born Faigel Lazebnik in 1919, she was one of seven children in an Orthodox Jewish family in Lenin, a small village in Poland. Known as Faye, she learned four languages: Yiddish at home, Polish at school, Hebrew in religious school, and Russian among the non-Jewish townspeople. Her brother Moshe was a professional photographer and she worked as his assistant, developing a keen eye and a talent for photography. When Moshe moved to another town, Faigel took over his business.

After the Germans invaded Lenin in 1941, they forced the town’s Jews into a squalid ghetto. On August 14, 1942, the Nazis “liquidated” the Lenin ghetto by brutally murdering 1,850 Jews, including Faye’s parents, sisters, and brother. Only 26 Jews were spared because the Nazis could make use of their skills. Faye was ordered to develop photographs of the massacre that claimed the lives of her family as well as almost everyone she knew. She secretly made extra copies of the pictures and kept them to bear testimony to Nazi crimes against humanity.

Soon after, Faye escaped from the Nazis and joined the Molotava Brigade, a group of Russian resistance fighters in the forest of Belarus. She said, “This was the only way I could fight back and avenge my family.” They were known as “partisans” – an insurgent militia group opposing an occupation army. Despite rampant antisemitism in the group, she was allowed to join because she had some basic medical skills learned from her late brother-in-law, who had been a doctor in Lenin. Faye became the group’s nurse, serving alongside the resident doctor, a veterinarian. For almost two years, Faye dressed fighters’ wounds and did whatever she could for sick and injured fighters, despite a lack of medical equipment. She participated in armed raids, later remembering “When it was time to be hugging a boyfriend, I was hugging a rifle. Now I said to myself, my life is changed. I learned how to look after the wounded, I even learned how to make operations.”

Faye’s partisan brigade raided her hometown of Lenin, during which the resistance fighters acquired food, weapons and supplies. As they passed her childhood home, Faye urged her fellow partisans to burn it to the ground, which they did. “I won’t be living here. The family’s killed. To leave it for the enemy? I said right away: Burn it!”

Faye found her old photographic equipment, and brought it back to their forest encampment. For the next two years, Faye documented the dangerous existence of anti-Nazi partisans. It was vitally important to her because as she later said, “I want people to know that there was resistance. Jews did not go like sheep to the slaughter. I was a photographer. I have pictures. I have proof.”

Faye’s resistance group was liberated by the Soviets in July 1944. After the war ended, she was overjoyed to find that her brother Moshe had also survived and had been part of another resistance group. Faye and Moshe were the only survivors of their family of nine. Soon after Faye married Morris Schulman, who’d fought alongside Moshe. They decided to make a new life in Palestine, then occupied by the British, who made it difficult if not impossible for war-scarred Holocaust survivors to enter the land. For two years the Schulmans were stuck in a displaced persons camp in Germany, waiting for the opportunity to immigrate. They helped smuggle arms into Palestine to support the Jews fighting for independence. In 1947 Faye became pregnant, and they needed someplace safe to live. They were able to get visas to Canada, and settled in Toronto, where they ran a family business and raised two children. In 1995, Faye published a book about her experience as an anti-Nazi resistance fighter: “A Partisan’s Memoir: Woman of the Holocaust.”

Faye died on April 24, 2021, surrounded by her family, at age 101. Sadly, the last few years of her life saw an upsurge of antisemitism worldwide. Faye left an inspiring message for young people today: “To Jewish kids I would like to say – be proud to be Jewish. To non-Jewish kids I would like to say – if there is a war and you have to fight, fight for freedom and don’t be ashamed to be in the army.”

For saving lives, battling Nazis, and leaving a photographic record so the horrors of the Holocaust would not be forgotten, we honor Faye Lazebnik Schulman as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[busdinessblogger]

Jobpassin - Silver

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[moriwood]

Mi Sei Mancato — p.sh

park sunghoon x male reader light angst 1.7k words

There’s no place in your small snowy village for a promising figure skater like Sunghoon. With his family’s increased visits to the city, it comes as no surprise when they announce their plan to send him overseas for professional training. What does he want to tell his closest friend before he leaves?

includes: written with a male mc but is actually gender neutral! and a lot of things happening in rapid succession woops warning: n/a

A thick layer of snow blankets the village, the serene winter stillness a familiar presence for most of the year. The rhythm of life in this tight-knit community is usually unhurried and undemanding, but today, everyone is out and about for the annual winter festival. In the heart of the village, next to the bonfire, a makeshift skating rink stands, where Sunghoon is one with the tunes of the tavern musicians, gliding across the ice with effortless grace.

Knowing Sunghoon since childhood, you’ve seen him outgrow the fringes of your small village. It feels like yesterday when you were kids, back when you would both slip and stumble on the ice, giggling as you kept losing your footing. But the years have certainly gone by, and his clumsy steps have now become effortlessly delicate. He’s gonna be a figure skater, he exclaimed, the first time he showed you a blade screwed into some boots that he bought in the city.

“Sunghoon-ie’s so talented, isn’t he?” you hear your mom gush, elbowing Sunghoon’s mom. “He should be competing overseas instead of indulging us here.”

The spark in Sunghoon’s eyes was always conspicuous, the way his face lit up talking about the Olympics, the applause, the medals, all that. You laughed it off then, thinking it was just some pipe dream of his; though watching him perform now, his spark seems to only grow brighter and hotter. Sunghoon is reaching for something bigger, an ambition that cannot be fulfilled in the confines of your village. He’s already a seasoned amateur champion, and with his family’s increasingly frequent travels to the city, you reckon that they’ve been meeting people who could further propel Sunghoon’s career as a budding athlete.

“We’ve been talking to some coaches in the city, actually,” Sunghoon’s mom reveals. “If all goes well, we might be sending him abroad to train for a while.”

Your mom gasps, pulling you closer to the two of them. “Has Sunghoon-ie told you about this?” she asks you.

You shake your head, making Sunghoon’s mom chuckle. “He’s too scared to say goodbye, I guess.”

As Sunghoon ends his performance and skates back to the sidelines, you meet his gaze. You silently agree with his mom. Other than his calculated movements on the ice is his calculated ambiguity recently, dodging questions on where he thinks his future lies. He gives you a tired smile, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “What y’all talking about?” he asks, huffing from exhaustion.

“Oh, I’ve told them about our plans,” Sunghoon’s mom replies. 

Sunghoon’s grip on your shoulder tightens. “What plans?” he clarifies.

“You know what I’m talking about,” she waves her hand. “The offer, Sunghoon-ie.”

The warmth of the bonfire does little to ease the sudden chill brought by the winter breeze. You watch as Sunghoon’s gaze shifts between the four of you, a brief flicker of surprise before being replaced by something you can’t quite place. His grip on your shoulder loosens.

“Mom,” he searches for the right words, voice steady despite the tension. “We haven’t made any final decision yet. You shouldn’t have told them already.”

“We’re just waiting for the visa,” his mother insists, tone encouraging. “You’ve worked so hard for this. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Your mom lightly punches Sunghoon’s arm. “Aigoo, it’s a great opportunity, Sunghoon-ie. Don’t waste it!”

Sunghoon goes back to smiling, one that you certainly know is uncomfortably strained. “It is. It is a great opportunity,” he nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ice beneath his feet. “Can we talk later?” he whispers to you. 

— 

As the night seeps in, the bonfire is down to its last embers. The lively chatter has toned down to ambient noise, with families returning to their homes to clean up. You find yourself near the frozen lake with Sunghoon. The silence between you is heavy. You walk in silence, the crunch of snow beneath your boots keeping you grounded.

This was where you two used to play around in. Surrounded by a small grove of trees at the edge of the village, it seems like this is now where you two will soon separate. For a long moment, neither of you says anything, both of you taking in the landscape that used to be the background to many of your stories together.

“Congrats,” you mumble, disrupting the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Sunghoon replies, voice barely above a whisper. “I should have told you earlier.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “I get it. You’re trying to figure out how to break it to us.”

“I won’t leave,” he declares. He’s bluffing. His parents would not go this far if their plans were anything but final.

You turn your head to him in incredulity. Sunghoon’s gaze is fixed to the ice beneath his feet. “That’s a stupid choice, Sunghoon, and you know that.”

“But I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of failing everyone.”

You let out a laugh, reaching to his gloved hand and gripping it gently. “Why’d you be scared of that? We’ll always be here rooting for you. You can’t stay here felling and bucking trees with the rest of us.” 

“But what if everything changes?” his voice cracks, revealing a vulnerability you’ve never seen so openly before. “What if when I come back, nothing’s the same? What if I’m not the same?”

You sigh. “Whether you stay here or not, we’ll change. But we’ll always be here to welcome you with open arms.”

Sunghoon looks up at you, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s just… this place, these memories…”

He puts an arm behind your back and pulls you into an embrace. Your heart aches, the sincerity of it all making it hard to breathe. The weight of his impending departure looming over you only makes you more confused. He nestles his head on your shoulder.

“You’ll always have a place here,” you continue, “I mean, in my heart at least, you’ll always have a place.”

“Do I really?” he mumbles. You don’t reply, only tightening the embrace. “Why are you making it so hard for me to leave?” he whines.

“Why are you blaming me?” you chuckle. “I don’t want you to leave, but I also don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dream.”

“You’re not,” he raises his head and says firmly, pulling back to meet your eyes again. “You’re one of the reasons why I’m still chasing this dream. You’re a part of my dream now too, don’t you know?”

“You’re making it seem like you’re gonna wed me when you come back,” you grin.

“Oh, I will,” he replies, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ll visit here as much as I can. I’ll call you as much as I can. And when I get that gold medal, I’m running to you with a wedding ring.”

You search his face for any sign of humor or doubt, but all you see is that same determination that you’ve always admired in him. He’s serious about this confession, as much as it seems like a joke between best friends. And as you stand there, with snow falling softly around you and Sunghoon’s warm hands against your skin, you’re not against the idea.

“Then I’ll be here, waiting for you, cheering you on, no matter where you go,” you reply.

Sunghoon’s eyes light up and then, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet, even with your chapped lips. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmurs.

— 

“Sunghoon Park!” the arena’s speakers echo, calling the final figure skater.

The crowd grows loud as Sunghoon steps onto the ice, expression calm and focused. This is the moment he’s been dreaming for years, after leaving his hometown and trading it for countless hours of training and perseverance. Despite his growth and maturity, you still see that young rural Sunghoon in the glint in his eyes. He is as nervous as he is excited to prove his talent on an Olympic scale.

The music starts, a jovial melody filling the arena. It’s a rendition of the village tunes, as if his performance is an homage to the youth he spent in that small town up in the mountains. Sunghoon begins his routine, immediately proving that he has become flawless. He is artistic yet mathematical, his skates carving perfect arcs into the ice. His spins are heavy and powerful, yet he goes back to floating across the ice like it’s nothing. Tears blur your vision as you clap for him, proud of what he has become.

He finishes heaving, face flushed with fatigue. But when he looks up into the stands, his eyes find yours immediately, and the smile that spreads across his face is enough to pay back the years he had spent without you.

Sunghoon lands on the top of the scoreboard, earning the gold medal. As the medal is draped around his neck, he looks so ready to leave. The national anthem plays, and as the flag is raised, he looks straight at you. As it ends, he steps down from the podium and runs straight towards you, medal still hanging around his neck and blades to his boots still attached. He reaches the barrier separating the ice from the stands and pulls a velvet box from his pocket. It seems like he hasn’t forgotten a promise from years ago.

“Come here,” he shouts, voice barely audible over the noise of the audience.

Without hesitation, you stand up and make your way down the stairs, glancing at the staff who seem more interested in the stunt than in the tons of security protocols that Sunghoon must be breaking right now. He reaches for your hand and pulls you close.

“Do you still remember?” he asks, voice loud and filled with emotion.

You nod, tears already flowing. “You said you’d win the gold and run to me with a wedding ring.”

“So will you marry me?” 

“Yes, I will.”

He slips the ring onto your finger and the arena erupts to an even louder volume. His lips crash down on yours in a kiss that’s long been overdue. He then wraps his arms tightly around you, laughing.

“I’ve missed you,” he huffs, his breath misting in the cold air.

author's note: this one's for you @haocovr ! thank u for the compliments, sorry i took quite a while 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️

the paris olympics is over but hey! the next winter olympics will be held in italy, so that’s why my title is that. :]

— moriwood.

[liminalweirdo]

POV you're reading a job description in 2024

HELP WANTED: Writer/Editors who are also skilled in Search Engine Optimization AND administration AND scheduling AND cleaning toilets AND feeding the boss's cat. Also you must be fluent in four languages and they are English, Quebecois French (ONLY. Other French dialects are not sufficient), Old English, and Ancient Greek.

Also you need to have exactly 3 years 364 days 6 hours 23 minutes and .72 seconds of experience and NOT A SECOND MORE OR LESS. Oh, and also you will need to have a skill completely unrelated to this job so i hope you are ready to be on security duty as well as have skills in professional diving.

It's work from home, so you only have to come in 4.5 days of the week. We offer benefits and they are a 25 dollar pre-paid visa card that you can enter a raffle for every other year at the staff Christmas party that's totally voluntary but one that we will put a really weird amount of pressure on you to attend.

Also, sometimes we will have donuts in the staff room! Be aware, there is no health insurance but don't worry because we're super short staffed, so if you're sick you probably only have to come in for 7 hours of your 8 hour shift. You will also get 5 hours of unpaid vacation time per year which you can use to go to the bathroom while you're at work!

PS This is an UNPAID internship but

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

BETCHA!

noa had expected that giving advice to kaiser on his love life would be no easy feat, but when kaiser realizes that you have next-to-no interest in him, the german prodigy works up a storm in his master’s office. noa can only pray that he has the patience to whip kaiser into the true romantic gentleman you deserve. (+insp.)

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): kaiser x reader except it’s mostly noa teaching kaiser how to not be a shitty lover

Noa knew that becoming the mentor and master of any team would be far from an easy job. 

He had braced himself for the worst when he agreed to teach Bastard Munchen everything in his own arsenal, to lead the new youth team to become soccer’s future for when he would one day inevitably retire. He was more than aware of the nasty personalities the sport seemed to bring out from everyone (himself included, he had to admit), and he had readied himself to see sparks fly in all the worst ways possible as the teenage boys butted heads with each other.

Growing pains, he chalked it up to. Even he was once like that. Hungry, desperate, ready to prove himself to the world as the true diamond-in-the-rough amongst the common pebbles all around him.

He had braced himself for physical fights, with the youths squabbling with each other over who should have scored. And he got plenty of that. He also got plenty of haranguing them into getting up early in the mornings for practice and fighting to keep them motivated into the unforgiving hours of the night. He had braced himself for dealing with all of their managerial issues, from the boys transferring teams to needing travel visas and whatnot. 

All of the little things he had grown used to and faced during his own career, Noa was more than equipped to deal with. And he believed he solved each and every one of these problems with the same level head and grace that secured him his spot as the world’s number one striker.

What Noa wasn’t prepared for, however, were the issues involved with the budding relationships the Bastard Munchen players would face. His advice for their romantic lives were usually the same: make smart choices, stay out of paparazzi’s sight, and be respectful. That typically did the job for most of his mentees, and Noa could put his busy mind at rest.

Except for one specific boy who seemed to make it his life’s reason to break every rule that Noa had set in place for them.

Noa was sick and tired of cleaning up after every mess Kaiser made. He was used to Kaiser dragging in all sorts of celebrities and famous people he had hit it off with in a club or some other place, bragging about how he had finally found the one, to which Noa was always patient (and quick to remind the young boy that he had still yet to turn 20 and most definitely had not found “the one” quite yet). Like clockwork, a week would pass, and Kaiser would be on the quest to find the next person to entertain his fickle heart.

So frankly, when you rolled around, Noa had thought Kaiser’s obsession with you would only last about the same as his previous flings. Noa quietly waited out a week. Then another. And another. Then a few more. And to his surprise, you stuck to Kaiser’s mind. Kaiser still pursued you as relentlessly as he did the first day he brought you up to Noa, and Noa realized how difficult it would be to actually wrangle in a full-blown delusional, lovestruck Kaiser.

“NOAAAAAAAAAA!”

Noa rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a few seconds, like how his therapist had recommended, before breathing out through his mouth for a few more seconds. Noa was fully aware that he threw a life of peace away the moment he chose to become a professional athlete, but asking for more than fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence seemed less plausible than winning the World Cup fifteen times in a row.

The door to his office flew open with such force that the Frenchman was surprised it hadn’t flown clean off of its hinges. “Shitty master! There you are! I need your advice!”

“No need to be so violent or loud, Kaiser.” Noa turned on the swivel chair the Blue Lock facility had given him, tearing his eyes away from the statistics and team strategies he had been working on. “They’ll be able to hear even from across the compound.”

Kaiser stood in his doorway, looking disheveled and near tears. He had sprinted here, evident from the thin layer of sweat on the German boy’s forehead and how heavily he was breathing. Noa doubted that Kaiser was coming to him needing advice on training or improvising his skills. 

No, Noa knew what Kaiser was here for already.

“Alright, how did you mess up this time, Kaiser?” The Frenchman asked exhaustedly. He had gotten used to this song-and-dance with his pupil a long time ago, ever since you had wormed your way into Kaiser’s heart. “Did you call (Y/n) a rude name? Or say something mean?”

Kaiser scrunched his pretty face up, stomping closer to Noa and sticking his bottom lip out. “No! I didn’t do anything like that. Noa, it’s so much more severe! I’d rather that they hate me and wish me dead than this! You don’t understand—they don’t care about me at all!!”

Noa bit back a snort. “Oh. And I thought you had done so much worse.”

Kaiser began frantically pacing around Noa’s office, agitatedly wringing his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t understand, you shitty master! Ugh, this is what I get, going to someone as stoic as you for advice with my love life! I don’t get it. Why doesn’t (Y/n) want me? I’m the whole package! I have people crawling, and I mean, fucking crawling all over me. That super hot actress everyone’s been talking about? She was begging me for a date last week! I’m popular and handsome and rich, and (Y/n) acts like I’m just some guy from across the street! I’m not some guy from across the street!”

“No, you aren’t-”

Kaiser shook his hands in the air. “I’m the Michael Kaiser! 300 million yen annual salary, master of Kaiser Impact, golden ace of Bastard Munchen, and God’s chosen emperor! How dare they not want me as much as I want them? Can’t they see how madly in love I am? That I’ve practically made a fool of myself at this point? Trying this hard to make them fall for me?”

Kaiser breathed heavily after having dumped all of that onto Noa, and the older man stared at Kaiser with singlehandedly the most unimpressed look on his face. The German athlete let out a strangled groan, the reality of his dejection sinking in properly, and Noa watched as Kaiser buried his face into his hands.

“First and foremost, Kaiser, you have to understand that people have different tastes. What might be appealing to actresses and celebrities and whoever else you attract might not be (Y/n)’s type,” Noa sighed, leaning back in his chair and massaging his head. “Some people avoid famous and popular people on purpose, because it’s an awful lot of work to be with someone under that much public scrutiny. It’s a big thing to ask of someone, regardless of their interest in you.”

“But I have the money! The body! The looks! Anyone would be flattered to have my interest! C’mon, Noa- Fame aside, I’m sexy as fuck!” Kaiser motioned vaguely at his body. “I’m sexy, right? Tell me I’m sexy, Noa!”

“Kaiser, I am not doing that.”

“You get what I’m trying to say!”

“Secondly,” Noa continued sternly. He didn’t particularly have the energy to flatter Kaiser that much more. “Have you actually tried wooing them in a… more appropriate way?”

Kaiser frowned deeply, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean in a more appropriate way? Shouldn’t they fall to my feet in utter worship of how wonderful I am? Shouldn’t they be sobbing over how grateful they are to me that I would give them even a crumb of my attention?”

Oh god. Noa wondered where he had gone wrong with Kaiser. The headache that had been ebbing in and out ever since the youth had barged into his office was only amplifying. “No, Kaiser. I mean the kind of courtship that most other people would try. Like compliments, gifts, maybe grabbing a coffee together. You have to earn someone’s love. It isn’t something that’s guaranteed nor is it something that’s owed.”

The German boy’s frown faded slightly, morphing into a small look of confusion. He repeated, “Earn? You mean… I have to try to get (Y/n)’s favor? They aren’t smitten with me already?”

“Probably not. If they haven’t already started a relationship with you yet, that usually means you haven’t won their heart.” The older athlete explained calmly. “Try the things I told you. Tell them that you like seeing them around. Maybe get them a small thing of flowers. Being kind to someone never hurts. Especially if they aren’t exactly… used to dealing with your bold personality. You have to start with baby steps before you can get to all the big passionate things you’re thinking of.”

Noa wondered for a split second if Kaiser would fume and brush his advice off as he usually did, but for once, the boy nodded along and silently mulled over his mentor’s words. Noa continued to watch him quietly, hoping inwardly that he had gotten through to the boy and that maybe he’d quit harassing you with what he could only imagine to be the most audacious courtship in the universe. You were truly a trooper to somehow keep up with all of Kaiser’s ridiculous antics. 

“For once you’re of help, shitty master,” Kaiser hummed, and the German nodded to himself.. “I know a place I could order a few blue roses from… And there’s a really nice café not too far from the facility once we get down the mountain… Yeah, I can see it all coming together! Okay, I have a plan!”

“Ah, by the way,” Noa interrupted. Kaiser looked at the Frenchman, as if to silently ask him if there was anything else he needed to be lectured about. Noa cleared his throat, looking firmly at the young man. “Remember what I told you, no matter what (Y/n) does in response to your efforts. Love is earned, not owed. Even if you try to be kind to them and flirt with them differently, you aren’t entitled to their love. If they make it very clear that you aren’t interested, the right thing to do is back off and give them space. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do,” Kaiser scoffed. “If they decide that they don’t want me… Then that’s their loss! I’ll use my indescribable charm to find someone better… Even though I don’t really think there’s anyone better than them.”

“Well, no matter what you do, I’m sure I’ll hear of it.” Noa chuckled softly as the young blond’s cheeks turned red as he started thinking about you, and Kaiser hid his pink face behind his hands. Kaiser turned on his heel, straightening his back and puffing his chest out, clearly determined to enact Noa’s heartfelt advice and to undoubtedly unleash upon you another wave of unrestrained romance.

Noa knew that Kaiser’s wails and screeches in his desperate attempts for your favor would be far from over, but if he could bit-by-bit place the boy on the correct path at wooing you over, then maybe all of Kaiser’s temper tantrums and 3 AM rants about how he is 100% confident that he’s going marry you someday would be worth it. If there was one thing that Kaiser was, it was incredibly stubborn about not letting things that he deemed as “his” slip away.

“Ah, one more thing, Kaiser-”

Kaiser stopped dead in his tracks, already halfway out of the room. “Yeah? What is it, shitty master?”

“Don’t fantasize about marriage just yet. I think it’s still way too early for you to be planning out a wedding with (Y/n) already…”

x

[kinnporsche]

hey guys, long time no kinn & porsche fic rec list! i miss these two so much it’s not even remotely funny. as always, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to share the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love! god bless y’all for my daily allotment of serotonin.  [part 8/?]

— the empty crown by rainbowcolored7 – explicit / 117.2k words (wip)

Porsche was destined to rule his kingdom, but the throne and his family were taken from him, forcing him and his brother into hiding.

Kinn chose to rule to save his family from the untouchable threat of the Council who strictly guard the power of the Source.

When their worlds collide, everything changes. Hidden plans tumble into motion, enemies become allies and, above all, love conquers.

— you were there, written in my stars by bleakyblues – explicit / 81.5k words (wip)

Kinn is your everyday, ordinary guy. Well, as ordinary as the heir to the country’s underworld can be. But the point still stands. Kinn goes to school, helps his Pa with his work, hangs out with his friends and has a huge crush on his ‘good friend’ whom he is ‘not-dating’ (yet).

Enter Porsche Pachara Kittisawat with all the grace and stubbornness of a class five hurricane. And Kinn is lost, lost, lost... caught up in the winds never to emerge again.

— freedom is a sound/pleasure is a right ‘series by baby_droll – explicit / 31k words

Kinn stares at him, and then up at the ceiling, and then back at Porsche.

“Have you considered being professional even a day in your life,” he says, sitting back down in his desk chair and rolling away enough to get some space, “I mean really and truly, do you know what it looks like, barging into my office,” Porsche cuts him off, mouthing along to his spiel, mainly because he’s heard it before, “sitting on my desk, interrupting meetings, and acting like, Porsche, people are going to think things, things you and your shiny visa can’t afford to have them thinking. things that me and my giant internship program can’t afford for them to think—”

(Or: Kinn and Porsche meet, kiss, fall in love. Only one problem—Kinn is his PhD advisor, and there’s more than a few rules about them being together.)

— the bachelor by blue_grama – mature / 25.9k words

It’s Pete who explains, the next morning over breakfast, because of course the news has spread all over the compound. “Haven’t you ever watched a mob movie?” He asks Porsche, gesticulating with a spoon. “They have all the money they could ever need, but they can never get respectability. The old-money types look down on them. The new-money types take their bribes, but they don’t let them into the inner circle. This is public relations.”

“A kinder, gentler mob?” Porsche laughs. “Come on.”

“They’ll use it to look nonthreatening, highlight the legitimate businesses, that sort of thing,” Pete says. He lowers his voice. “Everyone knows the Theerapanyakuls are dirty, but if they’re on television, how dirty can they be, right? And… I don’t know, but Khun Korn is strange about Khun Kinn’s love life. Maybe he’s trying to keep him in line somehow.”

— i’m not a saint, but i pay like a sinner by haeseolar – explicit / 25.4k words

“I’m not sure how a lowly human like you called me, but here I am,” His voice is deep, but not gruff or harsh like he was expecting. Porsche doesn’t have many preconceptions about demons as a whole, but everything he holds is being completely turned upside down and thrown out the window.

“Who are you?” Porsche croaks out, somehow finding his voice.

The demon’s eyes sharpen as he speaks, the slitted black pupils contracting and opening again like a cat’s. It’s just as fascinating as it is unnerving.

“You’re the one that called my name,” He shrugs, gesturing around the room flippantly.

“Anakinn,” Porsche says, the name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “You’re Anakinn.”

— scale and bone by ahdriking – explicit / 25.2k words (wip)

Fairy tales aren’t real. There are no happy endings. These are the truths Kinn knows.

Ever since stepping into power, Kinn has been suspicious of the Russians—led by Mikhail Alexeyev—operating in Bangkok, suspecting them of stealing from him. He sends Kim to investigate, and the truth turns out to be much worse than his initial fears. He resolves to destroy them, even at the risk of all out war; he can do no less if he wants to avoid appearing weak.

It starts with reconnaissance at Alexeyev’s party, an event promising a ‘grand spectacle.’ Kinn is expecting something appropriately depraved, suitable for the Russian mobster and his tastes, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of what Alexeyev has been hiding. Nothing could have prepared him for the way it will change his life forever.

Because fairy tales aren’t real.

Until they are.

— moonchild (we’re born in the moonlight) by wicca – explicit / 24.1k words

“Let me walk you home, then,” Kinn offers, recalling the recent accidents and all the superstitions he’d heard about the forest ever since he was a boy. “Even if you live close by, these woods can get dangerous. You should always get home before nightfall.”

“Trust me,” Porsche smiles, teeth sharp and brown eyes glittering an almost golden hue under the late afternoon light. “I’ll be fine.”

He lets Kinn walk him home anyway.

— desire is so different when god bore you hungry ‘series by captainkit – explicit / 20.6k words

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered Kinn. His eyes were so very kind. Porsche wanted to keel over with the hunger gnawing at his bones. The kindness in his eyes made him ache a little more.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Starvation was an old friend of Porsche’s.

— force of attraction by nuwildcat – explicit / 14.3k words

Gravity (noun): the universal force of attraction acting between all matter.

Porsche never was the best student in school. She’ll be the first to admit that hands on lessons were always the ones that best made things ‘stick’ for her.

Porsche isn’t certain she wants to know whatever lesson Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul is trying to teach her. The problem is, resisting Kinn is like trying to stop a force of nature: impossible.

— if i go too far by p1n3appl3_p3n – explicit / 13.9k words

Kinn and Porsche are friends that fuck, and it’s totally fine until it isn’t.

— red-handed by martynax – explicit / 12.3k words

“Hello, gentlemen,” Porsche finally manages to find his voice and is proud of himself that he comes off as cool and collected. He doesn’t really feel like it, but as long as no one is pointing a gun at him, he can roll with whatever. He’s good at bullshitting his way out of tough situations. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The corner of the stranger’s mouth ticks up in amusement, eyes taking in Porsche’s silhouette. It’s a slow once-over that makes Porsche’s skin tingle.

The stranger takes a slow sip of the whiskey, tipping the glass elegantly and smacks his lips after he swallows. “It’s not bad.”

“Want a refill?” Porsche proposes, waving his hand at the almost empty tumbler while he slowly starts approaching the couch. He feels awkward just standing there. The two guys in black suits tense up, but make no move to stop him. Not giving his unwelcome guest time to answer, he adds, “I’ll do you one better, I make a mean cocktail. How about I make you one?”

“Such a kind host,” the man muses, titling his head as he observes Porsche. “Do your best, little thief.”

— all of me (is all for you) by kurtstiel – explicit / 10k words

The water has saturated Porsche’s white shirt completely, soaking through the vest beneath. The translucent material clings obscenely to the swell of his pecs. His nipples are clearly visible through the sheer material, hard and pebbled, with the unmistakable shape of the metal barbells pierced either side of them.

Porsche’s head jerks up to check if he can still hide them from Kinn, but it’s already too late. Kinn is standing across the room, staring in Porsche’s direction, entire body coiled tight like a spring.

(Or: While Kinn is away on a business trip, Porsche gets his nipples pierced as a surprise for their anniversary. Kinn comes home earlier than Porsche expected.) 

— whatever else that touches you by technicallyverycowboy – explicit / 9.4k words

“No, it’s fine.” Porsche shifts to be a little less plastered against Kinn’s side, straightens his shoulders and smooths out his jacket with great dignity. “The answer to your question is yes, I have really never been with any other men.”

(Or: Porsche answers questions, asks some of his own, tries new things, and fills in the knowledge gaps of his own sexuality.)

— i’ve been waiting for you, to slip back in bed by dearsidewalk – explicit / 5.5k words

Porsche is sound asleep on their bed, the cityscape casting a soft, warm glow against his skin, dipping and arching with his silhouette. Kinn sags, hands falling to his side, but that itch hasn’t faded—that heaviness in his chest, stomach, and throat multiplies, malignant and spreading, and in a blink of an eye, he’s at Porsche’s side.

— the sweetest thing on this side of hell by butterflylungs – explicit / 3.3k words

Being vulnerable with Kinn is always a dangerous game: she never knows when it’s going to be thrown in her face. After the forest, she thought—well. But Kinn had given her to Vegas, cold and stone-faced from her perch on the couch, still attached to an IV line after taking a fucking bullet for her.

[snifflesthemouse]

Is Harry Suing the UK to Hide Truth of Visa and Security?

Let’s talk about a few things going on in the Royal News World, Shall We?

This mouse isn’t completely sure of coming back entirely, but I figured a post here and there would be fine. Let’s get started.

My people come bearing some insights: Just about everyone in the aristocracy is openly aware that Harry isn’t truly cut off. As a matter of fact, some believe that Harry is only in the US because Charles sent him here and he is in fact on an A1 visa. Not so much as a banishment, but as a way to play both sides of the media circus and keep them all relevant. The whole world tunes in every time something pops up.

What brings more clickbait? Ask yourself the hard questions, though, don’t take the easy route. I’ve seen some things going around, and I see people truly never ask the hard questions.

I pray for the day when everyone wakes up and realizes that being elderly doesn’t make you harmless or innocent. This author was told the same things about Harry not being told about the diagnosis for the cancer until we all heard, BUT BEFORE. Interesting that ever got leaked out in the press, isn’t it? Why even tell us when he got told? Harry probably leaked it and did it to make Charles look favorable. Do you think Charles would let it get leaked? To what end? To look like the loving, yet firm father everyone demands him to be, the man that he cannot. The man he is not.

And now there are articles coming out about the contingency plans for Charles being sick. Harry is not in them, at all. Why would he need to be? Doesn’t that say a lot? The fact people have to be told Harry isn't included is silly. But you know what they say about assumptions.

Now, I was told by a friend that’s a doctor the whole story of the cancer being found during the prostate stuff made no sense. They would’ve seen other indicators beforehand. They ARE the greatest medical professionals on the planet, aren’t they? You mean a PET scan or blood test or anything like that, at all, wouldn’t hint at the other problems? This was a choreographed release of information.

It's being suggested that the press will be informed to release a cascade of tidbits over the coming weeks. Lady C said early spring, before summer. She also said it was Princess Anne who made the “racist baby” comments, and that was also a ruse. I’m pretty sure Lady C picked Team Charles back in the 80s, and she’s been working to gain grace and favor since. I think she wants to seem like she knows things to sell books or views. Go, girl, get that paper.

Speaking of paper, it was suggested one of the main reasons Charles was so upset with Harry when he “rushed right over” was because he asked for more money. Anyone could assume that but think about what he did immediately afterwards. He went over there only to have something to give an interview for. He got paid to “not squeal” on an interview. The Sussexes don’t lift a finger for free… they only lift them for freebies. Or money.

If Harry is here on an A1 Visa as a favor between Charles and the US, that means we are paying for that security in America. No wonder Harry is suing the UK, he needs to make it look like he needs something when he already has it. How would they possibly have the money to pay for their own? I posted the mortgage documents, remember. Do the math. They have 10 years to pay that house off in full before they get a 7.48% interest rate. They have upkeep, services, servants, nannies, clothes, utilities, maintenance that must be maintained or the bank could come in and do it themselves… Those things aren’t cheap. You have to have a faucet of money coming in to handle it all. They don’t even have a drip.

Oh, and I was told to really look at Harry’s page on the Royal website. And that the minute Wills gets that crown, his brother will be done for. Which is why Charles could be trying to be a father instead of a king in that situation. Then again, if Wills had hard feelings for both Charles and Harry, and Charles had a jealousy over Wills and the Queen… that’s a lot of ifs

One this is for sure. Harry will NEVER return to the BRF in a working capacity. Everything is a dance of smoke and mirrors.

It makes total sense to have Harry here on an A1 visa, have him in constant litigation with the UK so we peons think he needs security, but in reality he is here on a visa supplying him the protection he thinks he deserves. Of course, an FOIA would need to be filed, probably… I wonder if I could do that and see how he is really here. I don’t believe he is here on an O1 or spousal visa.

What is the real reason for all of this, people? It's just Flying Pasta, like before.

[tanadrin]

Advice on fleeing the US and somehow getting all my poor and/or disabled loved ones out with me?

I don’t have good advice on immigration. It’s context-dependent for one—rules on acquiring long-term residence in permits depend heavily on the country you want to move to. Citizenship generally requires several years living somewhere and speaking the local language to some degree. Generally speaking, immigration authorities want people who they think aren’t going to be a burden on their social care system and who will be a benefit to their economy—so, people with solidly middle class jobs or skills.

Probably the easiest (comparatively speaking) option would be to get a job somewhere else where they’ll help you with a work visa or something. But that still may be difficult in practice depending on your education and professional background. And generally that won’t enable you to bring anyone but immediate family (spouse and children) either. It is a phenomenally cruel system, and one day I hope to live in a world with open borders, but sadly we are very far from that goal.

If you are concerned about things like anti-trans legislation and abortion rights and the persecution of undocumented immigrants, it would be much easier to move within the US, to a big city or a blue state (if you can swing it, a big city in a solidly blue state). I hear Massachusetts is nice. If you are anxious about Trump winning in November and what might result from that, I’m afraid I don’t have any substantive advice. But you have my sympathy. I too am anxious about that, and I don’t live in the US.

[aromantic-enjolras]

Si tengo un hermano

This is my Drink With Me ( @drinkwithme-exchange) gift for @winter-parrot! You asked for Enjolras and Feuilly, and these two are always union/political buddies to me, so that's the direction I took it.

Enjolras meets Feuilly at a union meeting. Well, technically he meets him weeks before at a demonstration, when Feuilly arrives like an angel from heaven and gets him out of a sticky situation with a cop, but he doesn’t catch his name the: they are both… a little preoccupied.

So, when anyone asks, Enjolras says he met Feuilly at an inter-professional union meeting. Feuilly is there representing Renault workers, while Enjolras is filling in for the spokeswoman from the University Comittee. He is feeling a little out of place, a nineteen year old student in a room full of proper working class people, and he is very spooked when Feuilly comes over to him and asks him to reiterate some of his points.

Feuilly is very nice and understanding, and soon he is feeling at ease. They end up deep in conversation, standing by the shitty coffee machine until their legs hurt, and they end up exchanging numbers.

Enjolras doesn’t really expect things to go further than that, maybe a couple of messages to make good on promises of reading material, but they actually start talking more and more, and holy shit this guy is so cool, and he’s talking to him, and Ferre I think I might have a political crush what do I do??

What he does is frantically read everything Feuilly sends him. Being self-taught, Feuilly has very eclectic taste, but Enjolras appreciates everything anyway (or maybe because of that): they might have bonded over being from the Global South, but Enjolras is painfully aware that being the descendant of Chilean diplomats who exiled to Paris after the Pinochet coup is very different from being a first generation Middle Eastern immigrant fighting to renew his visa in islamophobic France.

On his part, Enjolras is doing a sociology degree, and Feuilly is extremely interested in getting his hands on all his class notes. The anarchist self-learning group he is a part of has a lot of books, but there are still always things he wishes he could get but that are too obscure or too expensive for him to get; and Enjolras is very happy to let him use his university library card to get them.

Even once they’ve gotten closer, their relationship still revolves a lot around politics. They join a POC black bloc together, which is how they learn to trust each other to have their back physically, on top of ideologically. They make a great team: Enjolras has the rightful anger and fire and a good strategizing mind, and Feuilly has the know-how to know exactly what they can and can’t get away with.

Don’t think this means they are always serious. They are very good at finding light in dark places, and they have quick minds, so they end up having a whole army of inside jokes and little references. Whenever Enjolras lends Feuilly a book of his own collection, he knows Feuilly will give it back full of little annotations, some of them serious, but also little "pretentious, much?" and "nicely said!" and "no shit Sherlock" and hearts next to his favourite lines. Enjolras cherishes these books the most.

Here is a small playlist I made for them while I wrote this. A lot of it is Spanish, hope you can get the vibes of it at least!

(Here's the link to Youtube if you prefer to not use Spotify)

[locksmithpalatine]

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[npzlawyersforimmigration]

Navigating Through Visa Application Delays: A Guide to Administrative Processing

https://visaserve.com/navigating-through-visa-application-delays-a-guide-to-administrative-processing/

#221g #AdministrativeProcessing #USEmbassay #Nonimmigrant #immigrant #visa #Delayprocess

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Gino Bartali

Born in a small town near Florence in 1914, Gino grew up extremely poor. He escaped his difficult life by riding his bike from dusk until dawn around the hills of Tuscany. Building up exceptional strength and endurance, Gino started competing and winning races. Only a few years after his first race, he went professional. By the early 1930’s, Gino was a household name throughout Italy. Everywhere he went he was mobbed by fans. When he won the Tour de France in 1938, at age 24, Gino was hailed as the “King of Cycling.”

Gino wasn’t able to defend his title at the 1939 Tour because of worsening relations between Italy and France. He was drafted into the army and worked as a military bike messenger. In 1943, Germany invaded Italy and immediately began rounding up and deporting Italian Jews. A friend of Gino’s asked him to help save their Jewish brethren. Though married and with a young son, Gino did not hesitate. He immediately committed to doing whatever he could to save lives, whatever the risk.

Gino sheltered a local Jewish family in an apartment he bought with cycling money. He then embarked on a dangerous mission smuggling fake identity papers around Tuscany and Umbria, enabling Jews to assume false identities and escape deportation. Using his training routes between Florence and Assisi, Gino made 30-40 trips, saving at least 800 Italian Jews. He carried exit visas in his bicycle frame. Wherever he went, Gino was surrounded by fans, preventing German policemen from looking too closely at what he was doing. On the few occasions he was stopped and searched, Gino insisted that his specially-made bike was too delicate to be touched. A devout Catholic, Gino often traveled from Florence to Assisi and back in one day – a 200 km trip. In Assisi, Catholic clergy ran an underground railroad to hide Jews and provided them with Gino’s fake identity documents.

Gino was extremely modest and rarely spoke about his wartime heroism. He once told his son, “If you’re good at a sport, they attach the medals to your shirts and then they shine in a museum. That which is earned by doing good deeds is attached to the soul and shines elsewhere.” It wasn’t until after his death in 2000 that his family began speaking publicly about what Gino had done. In 2013, Gino was honored by Israeli Holocaust Museum Yad Vashem as “Righteous Among the Nations.”

For using his talent and fame to save hundreds of lives, we honor Gino Bartali as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

[busdinessblogger]

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[minty-the-witch]

Mental and Spiritual: Different Sides of the Same Coin

Howdy everyone! 

I’ve been MIA for a while because my life has just been absolutely crazy lately. I’ve bounced around from Airbnb and hotel with my family while our house is being repaired (from a house fire). I also changed jobs during this period. All this to say, my mental health has just been in the gutter as of late. 

I did some reflection, and I realized that part of my problem was that I was neglecting my spiritual side during all this chaos. I began by getting a new tarot deck from the local Barnes and Noble. Once I began doing readings again I immediately felt better, but I was still rusty when it came to the readings themselves. I was doing okay, not great nor terrible. 

Something I have always struggled with is balance. Balancing all aspects of my life has been a challenge. Sometimes I would go all in with my writing, and neglect other areas like my spiritual work. Other times I would hyperfocus on spiritual things and my “real life” would suffer. I still don’t know a very good solution, other than to keep trying. I started journaling, but it was hard for me to keep up with that too. I take my meds every day but sometimes it feels like that doesn’t help.

Obligatory I am not a professional, seek help if you feel you really need it. 

Spirituality has helped me so much, it’s hard for me to even explain. It makes me feel whole. Whenever I read a spiritual book, or meditate, or do tarot I find myself closer to peace. I believe that humans were never designed (or not evolved) to sit at a desk job all day or on your feet for 8+ hours at a tedious job. Whenever I’m at my fast food job, I don’t even feel like a person. My good friend has a job in her field (biotech) and even she is miserable working 9-5 every day. 

I feel like people have grown to cut out that spiritual side of themselves, for various reasons but for the purpose of this post I am going to blame late stage capitalism HAH! Our society does not put much stock into spiritual growth or health, or mental health for that matter. I think that both are absolutely vital. In my own experience, I think they go hand in hand. Two sides of the same coin. When my mental health is shit, my spiritual growth suffers. And visa versa. 

That is why I am making it a personal goal of mine to read more books and try to do one blog post a week. No idea what I will talk about, I don’t know that I have much to say - I’m definitely not an expert in the occult by any means. But I will give it a shot. 

What are some things to help rekindle the spiritual fire?

For me, my love is always tarot. I love helping people with readings as well as doing some for myself. It feels so magical to do. To feel that connection with the cards and the universe. I am not a tarot expert yet, but I feel the vibe of the cards to the best of my ability. By that extension, I would suggest doing something that helps someone else!

Another thing that helps me is a spiritual cleanse in the shower. I wash up with very strong intentions of washing away the dirty negative thoughts and energy. Then I will spend 5-10 minutes just standing or sitting under the water, meditating. I connect most with water (despite being an earth sign), this may not work for everyone. 

When I lived in a different neighborhood, there was a cute little forest park nearby. Whenever I was feeling negative I would go for a walk through the woods and just vibe out to the playlist of the day. I took in the energy of the forest around me. I grounded myself almost every time with this one specific tree that felt especially magical. (I even found little spirits there!) 

Something you can do almost anywhere is classic meditation. Although it's hard to do when you have company. My favorite meditative tool is the app Calm (I’ve also used Meditopia in the past). But there are free ones available too, like the app Moonly, and also if you have Spotify you can find good meditative tracks! It’s hard for me to clear my head, as I am an anxious person, but once I get in the groove of things it certainly helps. 

Speaking of groove, doing something you love that gets you in that flow state is always helpful for your mental and spiritual health! For me it's writing. Writing is a kind of magic itself, at least that is what my guides have always told me. The ancient Egyptians certainly believed so. 

The key with any of these things, is to have the intentions of rekindling your spiritual fire. If you just do these things without the aim of that connection, well it's just good for your mental health and there’s nothing wrong with that. Like I said before, I believe they go hand in hand. Having the proper intentions and confidence is half the battle in magic.