#collateral-based loans

[rookiesbookies]

Recently saw this tiktok by @anemonz

Which is funny as hell

And had me wondering- how would they all react based on this information?

Allow me to set the scene:

Bonding night with the team was always fun, bringing liquor and grown adults to play board games only ever ended in fights a few times. They were drunken fights over Sorry or Ticket to Ride, of course. So they decided this time that Monopoly was the choice of game, one of the guys asking if they could bring their woman to play since it was a night she had off.

Price

Price was smoking a cigar as they played. There was a burn spot on the carpet next to him from the time he put it out on it before breaking up a drunken wrestling back between Simon and Johnny. Simon had blocked Johnny's train in ticket to ride and Johnny was so inebriated that he didn't even know who he was playing against.

Truth be told, Price thought he herd Johnny yell, 'Take this Grim Reaper,' so who the hell knows.

Price's wife sat lazily with her back against the leg of a chair, rolling the dice, moving, and counting the money she owed her husband for the space.

"Fuck," she let out softly under her breath, getting a mischievous idea.

"What's wrong, love?" Price said, raising an eyebrow at his wife.

She put on big doe eyes, fluttering her lashes at him, "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think I have enough money to repay you this month."

It took Price a confused second to pick up what she was putting down before he got it, watching his wife twirl her hair.

"Well, you know I could take another form of payment." He said in a sultry voice, leaning closer to his wife who was sitting next to him.

He quickly stood up, grabbing his wife over his shoulder, kicking the dice with his feet and telling Simon to play for him, "going to collect my rent, be back in 15."

The three men looked between themselves, a mix of disgust and concern.

"15 minutes? Would've taken me only 4 with a lass taking at me like that."

Simon smacked the back of Johnny's head.

Soap

Soap was more than just a horny drunk. Everyone who knew Johnny knew this. He knew his limit but always went over it, even as a heavy-weight drinker, to impress his fiance.

Playing Monopoly was one of the few games they could all play and no one would flip a board in anger. The problem was it took a long time, and most of them always ran out of money.

"Bonnie, mi beautiful lass," she knew when the string of pretty names came out he was about to ask for something. "I'm a small bit short on coin teh pay you with. Could I pay with a nice smourich? A peck? A piece of my love from my lips to yers?"

"Hmm," she acted as if she was thinking for a moment before grabbing him by the collar in a swift motion, getting real close to his face. "It's going to take more than just a kiss, pretty boy."

"Oh come on!" Gaz yelled, covering his eyes as Soap rolled on top of his girlfriend to give her a bit more than a smooch.

"Not in front of my monopoly board!" Simon yelled, throwing his monopoly cash on the floor.

Price just turned the other way, getting up to go get something, he didn't know what yet, since both of the people making out on the floor were more than sloshed.

Simon

Simon had been grumbling the whole game.

Mainly because his girlfriend was beating everyone.

He was positive she had been robbing the bank since she was running the bank this round.

“I need a loan.”

“Come again?” She asked, a smirk on her face.

“I need a loan, from the bank.” He said louder.

“What collateral do you have for me,” she asked.

“Collateral? This is a board game.”

“Well I have something in mind.” She said with a glint in her eye.

After a few turns and collecting rent from Soap, Price, Soap again, and Gaz- Simon still didn’t have enough to pay back to loan he had taken out to pay rent to his girlfriend.

Pulling him up by his collar into a closet. “Gotta collect on his loan. Be back in a few,” she said in a cheery voice, nothing but fear in Simon’s eyes. If he could have mouthed ‘help me’ through the mask he would have. Not sure what his girlfriend had in mind for him.

When they came back minutes later with watery and unfocused eyes, he was sweating, and panting.

Little did his battle buddies know, he had just gotten the best head of his life.

Gaz

Gaz and his girlfriend had already been stealing kisses between moves at the game. Light pecks with giggles.

She had counted her money and sighed, turning to Gaz, who has significantly more monopoly money than her.

“Baby,” she fluttered her lashes at him.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Can you pay my rent?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Do you want get a taste of it real fast?”

Gaz quickly got up with his girlfriend and disappeared out of the room.

“If I hear thudding noises, I’m cutting my ears off like that fuckin artist.” Simon grumbled.

When they came back the two were straightening their clothes and giggling like children as she sat on his lap when they sat back down.

Gaz looked at Simon, “I’d like to pay my girlfriend’s rent please.” Before giving her a peck on the cheek making her giggle.

Sadly I'm not doing the other boys like Alex, Keegan, Konig, and Krueger, as I just dont see them fitting this prompt, so sorry loves. I’m also on vacation/networking right now so if I dont post as much or reply slow that’s why!

<3

[reachartwork]

don't want to shit on cohost's parade too much because i don't want to seem like sour grapes but learning that they put IP rights to their entire code base as collateral for a loan they are currently failing to pay back has me feeling kind of insane

[alex51324]

Please note that the civil fraud case is about him misrepresenting how wealthy he is, in order to get better rates on loans and insurance.

He is appealing, because of course he is, but he needs to put up the amount of the judgement in order to appeal; he would get it back if the appeal succeeded. The amount--it's called "disgorgement"--is based on what he is estimated to have fraudulently obtained.

In other words, the amount of money he got, by claiming to be wealthy, is an amount that he now can neither cough up, nor get anybody to lend to him. It's not just that he doesn't have the full $464 million in cash/liquid assets: he doesn't have enough to put up to get the loan*.

According to his own attorneys, he has approached 30 underwriters in an effort to secure a loan. None of them are interested in securing this loan with real estate or other non-liquid assets**.

So now he's asking the court to cut him a break, so that he can appeal the ruling. You know, the ruling saying that he lied about being rich, in order to fraudulently obtain loans. Because he doesn't have the money, and can't find anyone willing to believe him when he says he's good for it.

He's asking them to let him appeal without putting up the bond, so he can go back to court and prove that he really is rich and has no need to defraud anyone to get a loan.

(*No idea what they're asking in terms of collateral, but for reference, if you are a common criminal putting up a bond to get out of jail before trial, the bail bondsman usually asks 10% of the bond amount.)

(**Gee, I wonder why?)

[ptseti]

U.S. BANKS USED SLAVES AS COLLATERAL

Many of America’s key banks today were built on the back of slavery. In the South, they’d regard enslaved people as financial assets, accepting them as collateral on loans and mortgages - especially after the War of 1812, when slave prices shot up. The practice was particularly prevalent among ‘frontier banks’ in Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi and Louisiana.

In this video, Congressman Al Green grills JP Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon on his bank’s involvement in slavery. The institution used more than 13,000 slaves as collateral and ended up owning 1,250 of them when borrowers defaulted - that’s according to a study based on the bank’s records.

JP Morgan apologized in 2005.

[senilthesynth]

RIP Cohost

Cohost is shutting down the end of the year. While I'm kinda sad because it was a good experiment to see if non-federated social media could be viable that doesn't rely on selling data or anything, I think Anti-Software Software Club just made too many assumptions that didn't or couldn't pan out. Including just... not understanding what they wanted in the end.

(Read more because this was originally a Bluesky post and got long)

Number 1 mostly being them being "blindsided" by Stripe clarifying their policy that, in the end, means ASSC couldn't use them as a way for users to tip each other or the Artists Alley section and such. That policy existed for years, well before Cohost ever existed. For context, ASSC originally wanted to build a Patreon competitor, not a social media site. They would have failed so hard if they stuck to a Patreon competitor on this alone.

And in my opinion, number 2 is their pay. They were paying themselves very well-off all things considered, and everyone was paid the exact same amount (~94k last I heard). That's… a lot of money going towards pay that could've gone to hosting costs. They're a startup. You pay yourselves what you can. I appreciate that they paid themselves well, but again. Startup. You pay what you can, and they were nowhere close to breaking even at any point.

I think their financial model didn't do themselves any favors - they started out with "we got a lot of loan money to do this and now we have to make it profitable" which, yeah, sometimes that's what it takes. But that's venture capitalism. Especially since Cohost's source code WAS the collateral! They acted as a leftist group trying to market themselves as a non-profit/not-for-profit (they're a LLC, they're legally not forced to do either), paying themselves well more than they realistically, and hoped they could get enough people to subscribe monthly to break even.

That… doesn't work.

Not to say this would've fixed things, but I think them registering as an LLC didn't help. That prevented them from bringing on anything resembling a volunteer, and since their whole thing was "everyone gets paid the same" it meant they had to operate with very few people. If I recall correctly, they had one moderator. Maybe two. Maybe. Two developers, an artist, and a moderator. Four people. MAYBE five, I forget the exact number.

This is entering hypothetical territory so everything is unknown and is me guessing a lot of things, but is based on what I do know.

Being a non-profit comes with its own set of problems, but if they could become and maintain a 501(c)3 non-profit, they could pay themselves what they could and have people willing to help volunteer moderate. They could never get code contributors, though, since their source code was their collateral it by nature had to be closed off. Also, donations (recurring or one-off) are tax-deductible for US-members, so while it's not a HUGE benefit it offers at least that small bonus.

I'm glad that they tried, and got as far as they did (even if it meant loan after loan to not die instantly). It showed that it could be possible - that there's hope in this idea. It's just a question of HOW to make it a sustainable reality. I don't think there's a clear answer there, though. Like my non-profit idea hinges heavily on maintaining 501(c)3 status (or similar) and being able to bring on volunteers as-needed. Using a public spec for the back-end (like ActivityPub or ATProto) so the focus can be on implementing it (even if federation is never a thing) instead of doing it raw - which avoids the back-end development time but then means having to work with an existing spec that may or may not change substantially over time.

IDK. I have no idea what would make a medium-form social media such as Cohost viable. Maybe it's the same idea but with lower pay so it's easier to bring new people on as-needed, with the expectation that this is a passion project 'til it gets off the ground. Maybe it takes the "use a public spec for back-end" approach and focuses on the implementation of it with their own additions and flair. ActivityPub is one spec, but you have Mastodon, Pixelfed, Misskey, Wafrn, etc. that all go in different directions. ATProto will likely be the same one day - Bluesky being the obvious "reference" implementation right now.

Maybe it's something else entirely that I could never ever think of. I don't know, but all I do know is that I'm glad they tried. Unfortunately, the writing has been on the wall for months now and honestly? If you didn't expect that, that's on you. People have been saying that Cohost wasn't sustainable for months.

[simply-ivanka]

Letitia James Turns the Screws on Trump

The inflated $464 million bond required to appeal effectively denies him due process.

By The Editorial Board

Wall Street Journal

March 18, 2024 

New York Attorney General Letitia James’s use of lawfare to take down Donald Trump is getting uglier by the day. She is now threatening to seize the former President’s assets after effectively denying him the ability to appeal the grossly inflated civil-fraud judgment against him.

Mr. Trump’s lawyers wrote Monday in a court filing that they’ve been unable to obtain a bond to guarantee last month’s $464 million judgment. Defendants are required to post bonds to appeal verdicts. Mr. Trump’s lawyers say securing the full bond would be “impossible” since most of his assets are illiquid.

One way to satisfy the bond would be to borrow against his real-estate holdings. But Mr. Trump’s lawyers say that only a handful of insurance companies have “both the financial capability and willingness to underwrite a bond of this magnitude,” and “the vast majority are unwilling to accept the risk associated with such a large bond.”

What’s more, his lawyers say that none of the insurers that Mr. Trump’s team approached “are willing to accept hard assets such as real estate as collateral for appeal bonds.” This isn’t surprising given the recent write-downs in commercial real estate and enormous uncertainty about their valuations, especially in places like New York. Insurers may also fear Ms. James’s legal retribution if they provide the bond to Mr. Trump.

Thus in order to appeal the judgment, Mr. Trump could have to unload property in a fire sale. If he were later to win on appeal, his lawyers rightly argue that he would have suffered an enormous, irreparable loss.

Ms. James no doubt knows she has Mr. Trump in a bind. She and courts have opposed his requests to reduce the bond even though a court-appointed independent monitor overseeing his businesses eliminates the risk he could dispose of or transfer his assets to make the judgment harder for the state to enforce.

As we wrote last month, the judgment is overkill. None of Mr. Trump’s business partners lost money lending to him or claimed to have been deceived by his erroneous financial statements. No witness during the trial said his alleged misrepresentations changed its loan terms or prices, and there was no evidence that he profited from his alleged deceptions.

Nonetheless, state trial judge Arthur Engoron ordered him to “disgorge” $355 million in “ill-gotten gains.” This sum was based on the interest-rate savings that a financial expert retained by Ms. James estimated Mr. Trump netted from his legerdemain. But this calculation seems dubious since banks said they didn’t alter their loan terms.

The judge also tacked on profits that Mr. Trump putatively made on properties for which he submitted false financial statements without demonstrating that the latter enable the former. He also added “pre-judgment interest” dating back to the day Ms. James launched her investigation in 2019. This makes Mr. Trump liable for alleged wrongdoings before he was even charged. All of this provides plausible grounds for appeal.

Whatever his transgressions, defendants are entitled to due process, which includes the right to appeal. Ms. James is trying to short-circuit the justice system to get Mr. Trump, as she promised she would during her 2018 campaign. Anyone who does business in New York ought to worry about how Ms. James could likewise twist the screws on them.

[power-chords]

Part of my job is compliance/collateral management, so one of the cool things I get to do is run background checks on potential borrowers. Fun fact I've learned is that if you're the type of person who can personally guarantee an asset-based loan substantial enough to finance your luxury fashion brand, and you're a Florida resident with multiple traffic citations, there's a 70% chance that at least one of those citations is going to be for recklessly driving a boat in a Manatee Speed Zone.

[abubblingcandle]

Collateral Damage!

Ahh thank you for the ask!

Collateral Damage is part 2 in what I am calling my Darkest Timeline Series. This follows up Like a Black Hole which is a fic where Jamie implodes upon his return to Man City.

This follows the same thread but looks at the optics of his season and imagines what if City were pushing him out of the door but he didn't go on LCA. So after S1 Jamie is kinda pushed out of City and a prospective like bottom of the Championship/top of L1 coach calls Ted to be like "we're thinking of signing Tartt but we know he was difficult at Richmond. Will we regret it if we do?" and Ted with all his metaphors and shit tries to compliment Jamie but call him a work in progress but that is not the message he gives off and so the word spreads like a black mark on Jamie's CV.

A little snippet just for you:

“Oh, that is mighty hypocritical of you,” Jamie laughed, the loud harsh sound cutting through the silence like a knife. “I am sorry Jamie but I don’t know why you are here?” Ted tried to guide Jamie into the coaches office but he wasn’t moving from his stage in the middle of the changing room. “You don’t …” Jamie scoffed with his eyebrows raised and then barked another abrasive laugh. No one dared move, lest they bring down Jamie’s wrath upon them. “Guess you never thought I would know when you were ruining my life did you?” “I …” Ted was at a loss. He truly didn’t understand what Jamie was talking about but every time he tired Jamie just assumed he was lying. “You never thought I would know did you but I do not quit,” he spat the last few words and pulled his phone out. “Guess everyone will know what you go around saying then if you wont explain yourself,” he murmured, scrolling. “Jamie,” Keeley tried to interrupt but even she was silenced by the intensity of Jamie’s glare. “Because I happen to know a guy who could get me Huddersfield’s scouting report on me. The one that was mostly made of observations and comments from former teammates and managers,” Jamie rambled, anger dissolving into hysteria. Oh. Now Ted knew what Jamie was talking about. But he still didn’t know why Jamie was angry about it? "Here it is! Character, after discussions with previous coach at AFC Richmond it seems like JT is volatile and resistant to changes of leadership and tactics within the club dynamic. There is no belief from previous coach that this will change in the future due to lack of effort to engage with teammates. He is a risk to add to an established functioning club dynamic despite the prolific upside. Conflict with team leadership resulted in his removal from the Richmond squad and morale improved with his departure. I would not recommend JT as being worth the sizeable transfer or loan fee based on this feedback and the optics of JT within his time at AFC Richmond." You could have heard a pin drop.

[mariacallous]

The imposition of the largest sanctions program since the Second World War in response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine remains a key tool for limiting the Kremlin’s war machine. But it has inadvertently also had substantial secondary and tertiary effects, from the rewiring of European energy networks to myriad lawsuits over what insurers should have to pay for the Kremlin’s seizure of over 400 Western aircraft.

These unintended consequences have garnered far less attention than the intended ones, but the former are still multiplying and there are tens of billions of dollars already at stake in them. While sanctions rightfully continue to be tweaked to maximize their impact, policymakers have not paid due attention to the legal spats and sanctions challenges that have already arisen in their wake. Their outcome will greatly determine the effectiveness of the sanctions and the extent to which the Kremlin or the West will bear their cost.

This is not the first time the West has had to deal with such issues. At the outbreak of the war with Japan in 1941, the U.S. seized assets and businesses owned by Japanese nationals on its soil, acting under the Trading with the Enemy Act. These actions, while directed primarily at the war-time adversary, inevitably wrought a lot of collateral damage, as investors in Japanese enterprises, their creditors, or depositors in Japanese-owned banks, were often the American public.

It took years to untangle the resulting mess. And yet, when all was said and done, the U.S. Supreme Court and Congress acted to protect the interests of these investors, and ensure both the orderly liquidation and the equitable distribution of proceeds to those affected. Thus, the depositors of Yokohama Specie Bank, had their claims on the “yen certificates” preserved in a decision by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1967, allowing the certificate holders to recover at least some economic value from proceeds of the bank’s liquidation.

In short, there is a blueprint for handling the legal spats that result from waging economic war. That blueprint, in broad terms, is to act forcefully against the economic interests of the enemy, yet make full use of the institutions of law and justice for the interests of affected parties at home.

Today, as Russia and the West remain engaged in a full-scale economic war, this blueprint seems largely ignored. What we see instead, is perhaps the opposite: The adversary ruthlessly subverting the toolkit of the “rules-based international order” for its benefit with lawsuits that seem to lead Western institutions down the path of treading softly where Russian interests are concerned, while Western investors and, of course, Ukraine take the brunt of the costs and receive little or no protection.

Consider the June G-7 summit, where member states united on a plan for using the returns earned by Russia’s $300 billion in frozen sovereign assets to aid Ukraine, of which $200 billion are held as cash and securities at the Belgian financial company Euroclear. Leaders of the G7 have agreed to effectively monetize the future income flow on the frozen assets, and turn it into an immediate $50 billion in loans to Ukraine. This is as stark an acknowledgement as possible that Russia’s assets will not be returned to it any time soon, even if outright seizure is off the table for now following a chorus of complaints that doing so would not be compatible with international law.

Nevertheless, Brussels has insisted Kyiv will not receive any of the five billion euros that the frozen assets have generated thus far and continues to tread softly against Russia and its proxies. The reason: Euroclear itself is worried about lawsuits brought by Russia over this action and its freezing of other securities affected by the Western sanctions regime.

According to Euroclear, it is facing “a significant number of legal proceedings…almost exclusively in Russian courts,” where “the probability of unfavourable rulings is high since Russia does not recognize the international sanctions.”

This reveals a fundamental flaw in the arguments made by proponents of the so-called “rules-based international order.” Russia can appeal to its structures too—and, slowly but surely, make sanctions even less effective than they already are. Meanwhile in the West, the powers that be continue to dither, and ignore the blueprints for economic confrontation from the past.

Russia’s efforts here are already advancing: thus the suits against Euroclear, and the efforts of Mikhail Fridman—the sanctioned Russian oligarch—to return the nearly $16 billion of his former assets through an arbitration claim under the Soviet-Belgium-Luxembourg Bilateral Investment Treaty. As its name gives away, the pact actually even predates Russia’s establishment as an independent state and was inherited from the Soviet Union. It has not been updated since, but cannot be so easily unwound—its final clause notes that it applies to investments made before its hypothetical abrogation for 15 years thereafter.

It is also this treaty that Russia would ultimately use to try and have its domestic court rulings against Euroclear and other Western institutions enforced. We can be sure that there is more to come: Russia has already promised “endless legal challenges” if its assets or the income on these assets are seized. One of the largest such clashes is likely imminent, and will require politicians decide how to proceed. On 7 June the Permanent Court of Arbitration awarded Uniper, which was taken over after being bailed out by the German state, €13 billion in damages from Gazprom over Putin’s decision to toggle Europe’s gas taps in 2022, which forced Germany to bail out Uniper. A Russian arbitration court, on the other hand, has awarded Gazprom €14 billion from Uniper in the dispute. Berlin aims to re-IPO Uniper but will hardly be able to do so with such an albatross hanging above it.

It is therefore all the more remarkable that Western policymakers have not yet addressed how they intend to overcome such risks, nor why Russia remains permitted to take advantage of Western legal system under circumstances of a full-scale economic warfare.

Potential vulnerability to legal action by Russia and its proxies, and a lack of credible or coherent response by the West appears to have led Euroclear to take a number of actions that are clearly not in the Western interest and are often inconsistent with its past practices.

The clearing house has, for example, refused to label a number of securities as being in default in cases where the underlying entity has chosen to default rather than being forced to into default by sanctions. This has not just affected Russian corporate borrowers but even the debts of the government of neighboring Belarus. Belarus’ sovereign Eurobonds that were due to be repaid in early 2023 and are still unpaid, and thus in “default”; but Euroclear has instead designated these as “matured”. This semantic choice has significant implications, blocking the clearing and settlement of these bonds and thus impacting Western creditors – while Belarus, a key ally to Russia in its war, remains (intentionally or not) shielded from the full consequences of its default.

Good explanations for these actions are lacking, but it does appear that Euroclear has, in effect, accepted Belarus’ purported excuse: that sanctions prevent it from paying. But not all sanctions are a barrier to payment—certainly not those that have been imposed on Belarus. Notably, the Development Bank of Belarus, which faces a similar sanctions regime as the sovereign government, successfully made its coupon payment in November 2022, which was, albeit with delay, passed on to the bondholders by Euroclear. Suspension of payments, then, is simply a policy choice, and indeed, the Development Bank ultimately followed the sovereign and suspended payments as well, and this year failed to repay its Eurobonds at maturity. Euroclear took the same action with respect to the Development Bank’s bonds: they are marked as “matured” instead of “in default”.

This sort of leniency, and, seemingly, a fear of calling a “default” on a Russian ally, is without precedent, and completely at odds with the approaches by rating agencies, investors, the World Bank, the ISDA Determinations Committee (as it relates to Russia) and Euroclear’s own actions as to other sovereigns. In the recent past, the defaulted bonds of Sri Lanka, Lebanon, Zambia are all correctly marked by Euroclear as “in default” and continue to settle.

For Western creditors of Belarus, its Development Bank and the similarly placed Russian corporate borrowers, the block on trading and settlement by Euroclear is clearly harmful. For Russia and its ally, the lack of a “default” label by a key player in the Western financial infrastructure looks oddly protective. It also makes a mockery of the fact that sanctions are meant to constrain the inflow of funds to Russia and its allies instead of limiting their outflow and reducing the resources available to Russia and its allies to pursue an unjust war.

How should Western policymakers respond to these challenges? Firstly, by looking at the existing playbook for economic war, and treating as many claims as standard defaults and bankruptcies as possible. Secondly, by recognizing that the “international rules-based order” is in fact largely a set of established norms, particularly when it comes to creditor disputes, and that Russia has spent at least the last decade seeking to undermine these—beginning with its attempt to muck up Ukraine’s restructuring in 2014, something that continues to wind its way through the English courts.

That is the least that can be done to protect Western interests, free up more funds for Ukraine, and defang the Kremlin’s attempts to weaponize international law and institutions.

[krinsbez]

Random Sherlock Holmes Thought: Or, on The Adventure of The Beryl Coronet, pt. 1

So, after much discussion on the marvelous Letters From Watson discord, I have concluded that Mr. Holder’s reaction to his situation is not only perfectly reasonable and proportionate, he is, if anything, displaying an admirable amount of calm under the circumstances, because this situation might actually fuck over millions of people.

To begin with, the unnamed loan applicant is almost certainly meant to be HRH Prince Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII), who was somewhat notorious for his playboy ways. The year before, there was a massive scandal because he was present at a house party where a guy was accused of cheating at cards when said guy refused to take the accusation lying down. This? This is SO MUCH WORSE.

AIUI, the amount that Mr. Holder is being asked to loan would be roughly equivalent to OVER FIVE MILLION POUNDS today. That is an *obscene* amount of money for anyone to be in debt, and especially for the heir to the throne. The fact that he doesn’t feel comfortable utilizing any of the licit and aboveboard means available to him of obtaining funds means he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s incurred that debt, which is even worse.

Also, keep in mind, if I’m reading this correctly, the Beryl Coronet is part of The Crown Jewels. And he is, in essence pawning it. He is NOT allowed to do that. They belong to the sovereign, which he isn’t yet. And based on a quick check on Wikipedia, it wasn’t officially settled that the King or Queen is allowed to sell them off until the 1990s. So, basically, he’s stealing it. This is the kind of thing that in earlier eras might lead to one finding ones’ residence become The Tower of London, and also to becoming a head shorter. That’s probably not on the table here, but the blowback if this became public would be massive. This is the kind of scandal that brings down governments.

But it gets worse!

Because, see, even if we leave out the identity of the Applicant, what we have hear is Mr. Holder making a loan of an obscene amount of money off the books, without consulting with the other partners. I am not convinced that this is legal, and I can easily see him being subjected to both criminal and civil charges. Also, keep in mind, that the collateral (or whatever the correct jargon is) for said loan was then damaged and partially stolen from his own home. He is DONE. Furthermore, the Bank itself is probably going to go down in flames. And we are told it’s the second biggest Bank in London! That is going to cause a MASSIVE shock to Britain’s economy. And with this happening at the same time as an equally massive political scandal?

We could well be looking at a Recession here.

So, yeah. This case may have the second-highest stakes (after Second Stain) of any Holmes story so far, despite there being no capital crimes involved.

[dailyanarchistposts]

J.5.9 How does mutual credit work?

Let us consider an example of how business would be transacted using mutual credit within capitalism. There are two possibilities, depending on whether the mutual credit is based upon whether the creditor can provide collateral or not. We will take the case with collateral first.

Suppose that A, an organic farmer, pledges as collateral a certain plot of land that she owns and on which she wishes to build a house. The land is valued at, say, £40,000 in the capitalist market and by pledging the land, A is able to open a credit account at the clearinghouse for, say, £30,000 in mutual money. She does so knowing that there are many other members of the system who are carpenters, electricians, plumbers, hardware suppliers, and so on who are willing to accept mutual pounds in payment for their products or services.

It is easy to see why other subscriber-members, who have also obtained mutual credit and are therefore in debt to the clearinghouse, would be willing to accept such notes in return for their goods and services. They need to collect mutual currency to repay their debts. Why would someone who is not in debt for mutual currency be willing to accept it as money?

To see why, let us suppose that B, an underemployed carpenter, currently has no account at the clearinghouse but that he knows about it and the people who operate and use it. After examining its list of members and becoming familiar with the policies of the new organisation, he is convinced that it does not extend credit frivolously to untrustworthy recipients who are likely to default. He also knows that if he contracts to do the carpentry on A’s new house and agrees to be paid for his work in mutual money, he will then be able to use it to buy groceries, clothes, and other goods and services from various people in the community who already belong to the system.

Thus B will be willing, and perhaps even eager (especially if the economy is in recession and regular money is tight) to work for A and receive payment in mutual credit. For he knows that if he is paid, say, £8,000 in mutual money for his labour on A’s house, this payment constitutes, in effect, 20 percent of a mortgage on her land, the value of which is represented by her mutual credit. B also understands that A has promised to repay this mortgage by producing new value — that is, by growing organic fruits and vegetables and selling them to other members of the system — and that it is this promise to produce new wealth which gives her mutual credit its value as a medium of exchange.

To put this point slightly differently, A’s mutual credit can be thought of as a lien against goods or services which she will create in the future. As security of this guarantee, she agrees that if she is unable for some reason to fulfil her obligation, the land she has pledged will be sold to other members. In this way, a value sufficient to cancel her debt (and probably then some) will be returned to the system. This provision insures that the clearinghouse is able to balance its books and gives members confidence that mutual money is sound.

It should be noticed that since new wealth is continually being created, the basis for new mutual credit is also being created at the same time. Thus, suppose that after A’s new house has been built, her daughter, C, along with a group of friends D, E, F, … , decide that they want to start a co-operative restaurant but that C and her friends do not have enough collateral to obtain a start-up loan. A, however, is willing to co-sign a note for them, pledging her new house (valued at say, £80,000) as security. On this basis, C and her partners are able to obtain £60,000 worth of mutual credit, which they then use to buy equipment, supplies, furniture, advertising, etc. to start their restaurant.

This example illustrates one way in which people without property are able to obtain credit in the new system. Another way — for those who cannot find (or perhaps do not wish to ask) someone with property to co-sign for them — is to make a down payment and then use the property which is to be purchased on credit as security, as in the current method of obtaining a home or other loan. With mutual credit, however, this form of financing can be used to purchase anything, including the means of production and other equipment required for workers to work for themselves instead of a boss.

Which brings us to the case of an individual without means for providing collateral — say, for example Z, a plumber, who currently does not own the land she uses. In such a case, Z, who still desires work done, would contact other members of the mutual bank with the skills she requires. Those members with the appropriate skills and who agree to work with her commit themselves to do the required tasks. In return, Z gives them a check in mutual dollars which is credited to their account and deducted from hers. She does not pay interest on this issue of credit and the sum only represents her willingness to do some work for other members of the bank at some future date.

The mutual bank does not have to worry about the negative balance, as this does not create a loss within the group as the minuses which have been incurred have already created wealth (pluses) within the system and it stays there. It is likely, of course, that the mutual bank would agree an upper limit on negative balances and require some form of collateral for credit greater than this limit, but for most exchanges this would be unlikely to be relevant.

It is important to remember that mutual money has no intrinsic value, since they cannot be redeemed (at the mutual bank) in gold or anything else. All they are promises of future labour. They are a mere medium for the facilitation of exchange used to facilitate the increase production of goods and services (as discussed in section G.3.6, it is this increase which ensures that mutual credit is not inflationary). This also ensures enough work for all and, ultimately, the end of exploitation as working people can buy their own means of production and so end wage-labour by self-employment and co-operation.

For more information on how mutual banking is seen to work see the collection of Proudhon’s works collected in Proudhon’s Solution to the Social Problem. William B. Greene’s Mutual Baking and Benjamin Tucker’s Instead of a Book should also be consulted.

[liminalpebble]

Blood in the Cut (Eddie Munson, One Shot)

MINORS DNI

A/N: Sorry y'all I've been going through some things so this is a big, fat, 4000 world, smutty cathartic scream of a one shot. Older Eddie Munson x POC she/her reader. Title is based on a song by K. Flay that's been bouncing around my head lately.

CW: Rough unprotected sex (consentual), violence (bar fight), racial slur towards reader from a bigot, allusions of past suicide attempt, mental illness, trauma, and wounds, blood play (sort of?)

Summary: For years now Eddie's put the traumatic year of 1986 behind him by living an uneventful life and running The Hideout. Now a gruff but good-hearted middle-aged Munson has hired you (a young lady with a sad past of your own) as a bartender. One night a brawl breaks out and you become collateral damage in the violence. Only then does the prickly Eddie open up all the way to comfort you.

Blood in the Cut

The place was a shithole, but goddamit, it had become your shithole. It was a godsend when you rolled into the little town of Hawkins. You felt crusty, cramped and drowsy from hours on the Greyhound, but you made it. 1000 miles from your hometown, from the overbearing family who branded you a failure early on for being born with the wrong genitalia but expected perfection nonetheless. 1000 miles from the psych ward you ended up in when the pressure became too much. You tried not to think about the past anymore. Scars are easy enough to cover with make up or long sleeves, and nobody cares about the career you broke yourself trying to get when you just wind up opening beer bottles and mopping floors for a living.

Well, Eddie cared, but he hid it well. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have given you a chance that day. You had walked right into his bar and gestured to the shabby “help wanted” sign, shyly offering him a dog-eared resume. He gave you a long, unnerving, inscrutable stare from those big dark eyes.

You fidgeted as he nonchalantly scanned the paper over the haze of his cigarette. As the silence became too awkward for you, you piped up. “Uh...sorry it's...um...crinkled. I didn't have anywhere to print new ones.”

His face cracked into an amused grin suddenly, and it shocked you how quickly the grizzled guy could go from intimidating to disarming once his dimples came out to play.

“You...um...you do realized that this isn't exactly a place requiring a resume, right?”, he said, a cocky, teasing tone to his lazy voice.

You finally let out an exhale, “Yeah...yeah. I mean. I figured. But I already had it with me so you know...It's a little quicker than chatting to tell you my credentials. And as you can probably already tell, small talk isn't something I'm great at.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully, “ Well, bartenders do have to chit chat a little generally, but you're in luck, because not many customers come around here to talk.” He gestured a lanky tattooed arm to the tattered, dark, dive bar, the drunks having their liquid breakfast, and the ramshackle stage, as if to sarcastically say, behold, my kingdom.

“But anyway...impressive degree. Ivy League shit. Guess you're a long way from home. So, if you don't mind me asking, what is a young bright-eyed bushy-tailed little scholar like you doing in a shit town like this?” As he asked, his perceptive eyes darted down to your long sleeves; a bit unexpected in the warm spring air. He had an idea of what your answer would be, and it softened his heart more than usual.

You shrugged. Any attempt at pretense just dissolved in his presence. This man possessed a perfect radar for bullshit. You could tell. And besides, you'd relinquished any pride you had left at the hospital. There was no face left to save. “Well...Mr...”

“Munson...and just call me Eddie. Everyone does,” he clarified, grinding his spent filter in the ashtray.

“Eddie...Well, Eddie, I'm $70,000 deep in student loan debt from this impressive and apparently useless degree, and another $10,000 as the cherry on top for landing in the psych ward because of how I almost killed myself making sure I got it. Or rather, I tried to save my parents from their sunk investment in me, because the co-signer doesn't have to repay loans when the borrower kicks the bucket...or so I've been told. I'm 1000 miles away from it because I can't deal with my family reminding me that I'm an expensive disappointment every day of my life. But mom still calls me to shame me about how much it cost them to keep me alive...so there's that. And uh...these are more words than I've spoken in the last 5 months to anyone...so...sorry if I'm rusty at saying anything nicely.

Finally, you took a breath. Eddie just stared for a moment (that same inscrutable evaluation), nodded pensively then stood up from the bar stool. He simply reached out a calloused hand full of rings to shake yours. With a little grin he said, “Welcome to The Hideout.”

And that was that. You were here for 40 hours and 5 days a week. You tried to get overtime but Eddie always refused to let you, explaining, “you're a recovering workaholic and I don't want a relapse on my hands.” He always said it matter-of-factly with a flat expression until he turned his head just slightly from you to relieve himself of the smirk crawling across his plush lips.

Working side-by-side with him so much meant you got to observe him. You got the idea that in his youth he was probably rebellious, squirrely and bombastic, but he was taciturn and guarded now. Something had clearly pummeled that youthful anarchy out of him. The thought of it broke your heart a little. These days he kept his head down and hid under that mop of wild brown-sugar-colored curls. When he slid by you in the small space of the bar you noticed the little silver coils running through the strands, here and there. Your boss was still squirrely though; always tapping his fingers or feet in time with the soundtrack. He always seemed primed to run.

When you got a chance to look at him (really look at him) you couldn't help but wonder if Eddie knew he was a damn fine-looking man. He lived above the bar, but never once had you seen him take anyone home with him, or leave with anyone. Running this place seemed to be his life. What a waste, you thought, considering that nobody got to see that beautiful, tattooed, body without any clothes.

On slow days you'd usually hang out quietly behind the bar; both reading, and occasionally breaking the silence to talk about your books, or about the music Eddie had chosen, or about art or movies or languages or history or science. He was a bright guy and you treasured those chances to flex your academic muscles. In fact, you wondered if he hired you just to have someone to talk to like this. Hawkins wasn't exactly crawling with intellectuals and forward thinkers. Most of the local truckers, factory workers, farmers, and deputies who stopped by the Hideout would narrow their eyes in suspicion or confusion when they clocked your dark hair and tan skin. If they seemed about to say something stupid, Eddie would always nip it in the bud, giving them a warning glare that told them in no uncertain terms, not to fuck with you. Eddie felt a slowly building swell of protective impulse for you. You seemed so young and small and soft, even thought he knew you were tougher than you seemed...in some ways, tougher than him.

Once, only once, did some pea-brained idiot dare to snap at you and call you a “camel jockey”. That was the day Eddie broke a beer bottle on the counter, pointed it to the guy's beefy neck and hauled him outside, muttering quietly that if he ever showed his face here again he would end up in an ambulance. After that, word spread quickly that no one talked shit about Eddie's mysterious new bartender if they valued their lives. That was the day you began to realize you were becoming truly smitten with this man; his humble decency and thoughtful nature and even the pain behind those big brown eyes...but...he was your boss. So you weeded the idea out as soon as it began to sprout. You settled on simply saying, “Thank you,” and giving a relieved exhale.

He nodded and said, “Don't mention it. Fucking idiots. My friend Lucas and his family had the same problems. It wasn't easy for them, being the only black family in this hick town. Jesus Christ. I hoped it had gotten a lot better than this. That's a shame...they should be ashamed. Shit. I'm ashamed!” You chuckled and assured him he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he was embarrassed by proxy anyway. It was so scorching hot when he defended you like that, getting rough around the edges with righteous anger and a willingness to fight dirty. It didn't make the crush any easier to kill.

Much like dandelions, crushes have a way of popping back up, but you stayed removed and kept your interpersonal walls at a height matching his, though you would occasionally enjoy a chat from open windows in warm lamplight. You really treasured those chats and glimpses, when both of you reached out carefully from your barricades. You couldn't know that Eddie lived for those moments just as much. He'd been alone for so long, and now this fascinating young lady walked right through his door like a godsend. He was grateful for this friendship, and he would never dare to hope for it to become more. What use would an incredible young lady like you have for grumpy old Eddie Munson?, he thought.

-------

It was a Saturday night, rowdy as hell. Some shitty local band had just closed their set and packed their van, and the audience was worked up. You and Eddie and taken turns hauling keg after keg of cheap beer from the basement as they were swiftly emptied. It was an annoying crowd, but Eddie was proud of how well you kept up and you were happy for how well business was booming for him tonight.

You two were in the homestretch, but your nerves were fraying after a long night of drunken idiots. Eddie put a little ditty on the sound system called “The Closing Time Song” with the charming refrain of “get the fuck out” as he did every night to playfully alert the clients that it was time to leave. Everyone was gone aside from two knuckleheads who began screaming at each other for no apparent reason while you had begun sweeping.

You both knew the drill for this; get them outside to mitigate property damage and make their little scuffle the concern of Hawkins' finest rather than yours. Eddie was afraid to let you handle this at first, but after a few times he realized you're a lot stronger and tougher than you looked. At this point you manhandled jerks out the door with ease as often as he did. You huffed and set your broom aside. Eddie was in the back counting out the till, so you stepped up, walking swiftly towards them, grateful that it was still just verbal.

As you moved to shove the big galoots out the door, they suddenly began throwing punches, not seeing you underfoot, you got an elbow and a smack right in the face. You yelled every expletive in every language you knew as you kicked them out the door and slammed it shut, locking it behind behind them. As you turned around and strode back to the bar, you realized the noise had summoned Eddie from the back. He looked at you wide-eyed and concerned.

Through the buzz of adrenaline you didn't realize how badly you were hurt until you held your sleeve to your face and it came away soaked with blood. “Fuck,” you hissed, grabbing a bar rag and holding it to your face. Suddenly, you felt like crying. You hadn't been able to cry in months, even though you wished you could let it out. It was like the physical hit, the blood, the adrenaline, the anger, unraveled the dissociation choke-holding your emotions. You were horrified and decided Eddie would not see you cry. He'd mostly seen you being smart and tough and you'd be damned if you let him see you weep like a child.

You muttered, “I'll gonna go clean this up and grab another vodka for the speed rack. I'll be right back.” You heard him call your name after you as you flew down the hallway and down into the basement storage room. You closed the door behind you, found the janitor sink between the stock shelves. You bled and sobbed into the stained square basin, wondering what the fuck your life had come to. You prayed to a god you didn't believe in that Eddie would keep his distance. When the minutes passed without interruption, you heaved a sigh of relief, bending more deeply at the waist and resting your arms on the ledge.

You didn't hear him coming. All you saw was big hand holding out a clean bar towel neatly wrapped around ice cubes as he said in a quiet deadpan, “We don't need another vodka in the speed rack.”

“Thanks,” you huffed, wiping away the tears and blood with the old towel then pressing the ice pack to your face.

Deflect. You thought, picking up one of the bottles of Ketel One and grimacing to your boss. “Well, really, nobody need this shit, Eddie. Jesus, can't even spring for one that doesn't come in a plastic bottle?”

Eddie shrugged. He was standing with his arms crossed, leaning beside the sink. “We obviously don't have the most discerning clientele. Come here. You're doing that wrong,” he snipped, pulling out two folding chairs to face each other and ordering, “Sit. Lean forward, not back. And let me check it.”

You gingerly took the pack off of your face and he touched it, feather-lightly, to inspect it. “Huh, well, it doesn't seem broken. Just a hell of a nosebleed and probably a nasty bruise for a few days.”

You nodded, returning the pack to your aching skin. “Sounds like your know your way around getting hit in the face.”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a chuckle as he prepped another fresh towel for you. “I was bully target number 1 most of my youth. 'Hunt the freak,' they called it. My punishment for being a weird loud ugly little gremlin who played DnD.”

You shook your head, too rattled to watch your words “Idiots. Ugly little gremlin! What the fuck. Eddie, you're gorgeous. Don't pretend you don't know that.”

Eddie smiled wider than you'd ever seen him smile. His cheeks turned bright pink. His dark eyes sparkled. “What? Do you have a concussion or something?”

Oh god. I shouldn't have said that...uh deflect. “Well shit...I hope not. My insurance is shit.”

“Hey!” Eddie whined in mock-offense, “it's the same insurance I have.”

“Yeah, and I can't help but notice you never go to the doctor either.”

They both chuckled awkwardly, and an even more pregnant silence settled until Eddie said, “you know, you're lucky. When I would cry after being beat up, you could see it all over my face, my eyes would be red and puffy and my face and neck would be all red like I just ran a marathon. You don't even look like you've been crying.”

You shrugged, “One up-side of darker skin...I don't get red. Blushing, bruises, crying...scars...none of it shows up as much. I can hide my feelings pretty well.”

Eddie gazed at you, eyes full of bittersweet compassion. “I wish you wouldn't though.” He reached his hands out to yours.

You looked down and noticed your sleeves were pushed up from your attempt to clean up the blood. Now the ruddy splotches decorated your arms and cuffs, and beneath them, the scars on your wrist were clearly exposed in the florescent lights. You rushed to pull the sleeves over your scars, but Eddies calloused fingers stopped you, as he ran them gently up and down the slightly darker, rougher skin running up your forearms. “Please. Please don't hide it. Not with me at least. I know the story, after all, and I don't judge you.”

Deflect. God, his face is so close. His pretty pretty face. “Ah...well...you can judge me for being an idiot tonight.”

Eddie averted his eyes, sat back and then stood up. He was hoping for a more intimate moment, but you just made it clear that he shouldn't, so he played along. “Yeah....totally. What the fuck were you thinking, huh?...All 5'2 of you gonna take on a couple of meat slabs like that?”

“Hey I'm 5'4, and don't tease me about being short. The hobbits saved Middle Earth, remember?”

He turned so suddenly that you almost ran directly into his chest and you dropped the ice pack. He caught it between you. You, once again, found you were close...so very close.

You forced out a chuckle, “Nice reflexes.”

He shrugged and said absentmindedly, “well...you know...guitarist.” But he hardly knew what he was saying. He was staring at your lips.

“Yeah,” you sighed out then pointed to the ice pack. “ I don't think I need that now. The bleeding stopped.”

Eddie said quietly, “Okay, just let me check.” He gently held your face in his hands again, looking around it for any cuts or swelling. There were a few small splotches, but none serious. Before long he realized he was no longer noticing the wounds, too wrapped up in the feeling of his hands cradling your soft tawny skin as his fingertips fanned teasingly into your dark hair. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, as he tentatively stroked down the side of your face. “Does...does it hurt there?”

“No,” you said in a whisper.

“What about here?” he asked, quietly brushing hair from your temples.

“No,” you repeated.

His pointer finger ran lightly over the curve of your lips. The bottom one had a tiny cut where your teeth had grazed it. His eyes followed his finger as he asked even more quietly, “What about here?”. He took a step closer.

“No,” you repeated, mirroring his step in with your own.

“Good,” he said as he leaned in, closing the distance. Eddie kissed you with those plush delicious lips you wanted to taste for so long. He was shy at first, still cradling your face like you were made of fine china, but when you opened your mouth inviting him in, he pushed harder into you, smelling and tasting the coppery blood on your skin. Eddie's warm wet tongue met yours and explored, thirsty for you. When you pulled away you bit lightly on his lower lip before releasing him and he groaned in delight.

You looked up to meet his big sweet eyes with yours. With desperation in your voice, you confessed, “Eddie...I want you to touch me. I want it to hurt. I want to cry. I just want to feel something...let something, anything out.”

Eddie was breathing deeply. He was already growing hard and hot against you. Groaning, he said, “God, sweetheart, you don't know what you're asking for. Fuck...I want it. I want you.”

“Fight me,” you growled. And he grunted back as he lifted you onto a shelf, slotting his skinny hips between your plush thighs. He grabbed one of your wrists and licked up your inner forearm where your old scars and new blood mingled together under his hot, wet, tongue. You'd never let anyone touch you there before, and it was so intimate, so arousing, it made you limp in his arms. If this was a fight, he was already winning, and you couldn't have that.

You gripped your greedy hands into those gorgeous curls and tugged to see how he liked it. Judging by how loudly he groaned and the way his thick erection twitched against his jeans, he loved it.

You giggled. “Oh Eddie, you moan like a whore.”

He muttered, “Come on, you love it.” from where his mouth was now latched to your jugular vein, no doubt raising blossoms of blood under the tender skin. His harsh sucking and the light scratch of his teeth set off dynamite in your bloodstream

You whimpered and confessed, “Mmmm! I do. I fucking love it.”

He gripped your ass and growled into your ear, “Open wider for me, sweetheart...atta girl”. You obeyed. His arm snaked around you waist as he pulled you tight against his chest. He rubbed the cleft of your cunt over the seam of your jeans. You whimpered and melted, head lolling on his shoulder as you panted.

“These gotta go,” he said, hooking his fingers in your belt loops and grazing the button of your fly. “That okay, honey?”

You begged, “Yes...yes, Eddie. Jesus fucking Christ, yes. Do whatever you want with me.”

Eddie let out a surprised breathy chuckle and you felt it reverberate against you. “Fuck, baby, now who's moaning like a whore?” he teased, with a shit-eating grin.

You had no words, you were too rapt watching his clever hands easily undo your pants; hastily tearing away anything keeping his mouth from immediately tasting your pussy.

You shrieked at the sensation of his long tongue dancing around your wet velvety folds. After a few unhurried laps he came up for air with a gasp of awe. “God, you have the prettiest pussy,” he said, slowly teasing his fingertips along where your brown skin became a deeper, more saturated hue, like the center of a flower; rich and lovely and soft, like fine dark silk. Eddie slid a finger on either side of your clit, pinching and coaxing the little jewel to the surface. The rough callous against your most sensitive skin scratched a little, hurt a little, and the ache felt so good. He stared at where his fingers moved as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, then continued worshiping at it, like a shrine, saying his devoted prayers in mumbles as he consumed.

He sucked your clit, nestling it between his full lips, while two rough fingers moved in and out of you. You panted as he found a rhythm, demanding, “More....more please. Harder...”

Suddenly he withdrew his fingers and watched your confusion with amusement. He stared menacingly and stepped back, making a show of taking off his layers. His chains clattered against the concrete floor as he stripped for you until he was completely naked; unguarded. Despite the confident posture, his puppy eyes pleaded for approval in his vulnerability, and you were only too happy to give it to him.

You gasped out, “Jesus Eddie, you're incredible...you're so pretty. I've wanted you like this for so long.”

He came closer again and pressed an unexpectedly gentle kiss to your temple as his hands worked at your shirt and bra. He noticed your hands shaking; how nervous you were to be bare with him.

He kissed you under your ear then whispered into it. “I know you're scared, sweetheart, but you don't need to be. I want to see all of you. Let me see all of you, huh? You're so pretty.”

He stroked your now-bare shoulder. Eddie loved the hue of his pale skin against yours, the different flesh tones winding together, perfectly complimenting...meant to be.

You bit Eddie's earlobe and buried your greedy hand into his hair as you said, “I need it rough, Eddie, please. Don't be gentle.”

“Anything you want, baby. Anything,” he groaned out as he pushed into you, in one hard thrust.

Your breath caught for a moment as the ache volleyed through your body. You felt yourself crack open..shatter, finally shatter, finally release. You felt hot tears and hot arousal pulse through you in a cascade. Eddie met your eyes, concerned.

You nodded and smiled through the blood and tears “I'm fine. Eddie, I'm fine. I need this. I love this.”

Eddie loved it too. He felt a little guilty about how much he loved it, but that just made him even harder. He felt like a hungry animal gorging himself on your sweet broken body, licking at your tears and cuts as your tangled weight hit the shelf again and again. The clanging tempo built until you both came in a crescendo of shuttering, gripping, biting and grunting.

As you both caught your breath, slumped against each other, Eddie rubbed sweet little circles on your back and kissed your forehead. He pulled out gently and his eyes grew wide with shock and fear as he noticed blood mingled with his cum and your wetness.

He gasped in surprise and concern, “Oh, sweetheart...fuck...I...I didn't know or I would have been more careful with you....would...would have made it special. Shit..I...I'm so sorry.”

You grabbed his face, smiling broadly, drunk with afterglow and shaking your head, “Shhh shhh. No, no please don't apologize. I wanted it like this. Needed it like this. I had to let it all out. Thank you, Eddie....thank you.

You nuzzled into his chest and he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head protectively. He said quietly, “Okay, honey. But for now, we're gonna go upstairs and take a nice hot bath and curl up in bed together...that alright with you? I...I liked it like that too, but I want to take care of you after something like that. No hiding, got it?”

“Yeah...yeah I got it.”

“Good,” he said, smiling and kissing you. You noticed you'd left a little collection of bruises on Eddie, just as he left some wounds on you. Noticing your worried look, he held your face and met your eyes with a satisfied smile. “Hey...don't worry. I loved it. Now let's go play hospital.”

@hellfirenacht @fairyysoup @take-everything-you-can @sweetsigyn @elegantkoalapaper @veemoon @slutty-thevampireslayer @little-wormwood @leelei1980 @ladyofthestayingpower

[darkmaga-returns]

Japan announced one of its largest aid packages to Ukraine to the tune of $3.09 billion (471.9 billion yen). The fund is merely part of the G7 scheme to use frozen Russian assets to finance the war. In total, the G7 is prepared to redistribute $50 billion in Russian assets to Ukraine.

This plan will pass through the World Bank and the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA). The Japanese government has said it plans to oversee how Ukraine spends these funds, insisting that the aid is simply for human aid rather than military purposes.

No nation has been able to determine how Ukraine is using the endless aid they’re supplied. Portions are funneled back into the military-industrial complex and paid out to the very nations supplying aid. Everyone acts on the invisible hand in their own best interest. None of these aid packages were meant to be a handout, and Ukraine would suffer the repercussions. It is ridiculous to say that individual nations are contributing when they are using frozen Russian funds. The majority of these funds were ceased from private Russian citizens and companies who have committed no crime other than being Russian.

They stipulate this by saying they will only loan Ukraine money made on the profits of holding these assets. The risk will be shared among the G7 nations, and this risk is substantial, for Ukraine will no longer exist as a nation when this is over based on our computer models. Zelensky is too busy stuffing his pockets to care about his people or the future. He is banking on NATO invading Russia and extinguishing it as a country so he can then seize all the assets of Russia for Ukraine.

These nations are teetering on the edge by using these assets as collateral. Putin could confiscate ALL assets held by Western countries and private/public corporations under these new economic warfare tactics that completely violate international law. Zelensky has been demanding the full $300 billion in confiscated Russian assets as no sum will ever be enough for his bottomless pockets.

These funds are yet another reason why the war cannot simply end. Russia will demand that these funds be reinstated. Trump could be sworn into office and attempt to broker a deal with Putin, but all the other nations in the G7 will be against him. The US has already provided Ukraine $20 billion in Russian assets through the World Bank who would not likely reimburse a single nation’s “contributions.”

Will the G7 attempt to do the same to China when tensions in Taiwan heat up? No one seems to understand the consequences of these lowly actions, which have not prevented Russia from waging war or looking for alternative trade partners. One day, they will look back on these actions as an epic mistake, as there is no longer respect for international law; the rules no longer apply.

[beardedmrbean]

Donald Trump's social media company Truth Social completed a merger Friday morning that could net the former president over $3 billion.

Shareholders of Digital World Acquisition Corporation -- a special purpose acquisition company -- approved a merger with Trump Media & Technology Group, which owns Truth Social.MORE: New York AG takes 1st step toward possibly seizing Trump's assets as part of $464M fraud judgment

The company can begin trading as a public company, with the stock symbol DJT on Nasdaq, as early as next week.

Shares in DWAC currently stand around $40 per share.

With Trump owning 58.1% of the common stock in the company, the former president stands to make over $3 billion from the deal depending on how the stock ultimately trades. Experts say it represents a staggering valuation for a social media company that ranks below major competitors like Facebook, X, and TikTok.

However the deal currently includes a lockout provision that prevents Trump from immediately selling or getting loans based on his shares -- potentially limiting Trump's ability to use the windfall as collateral for a bond in his $464 million civil fraud judgment.

Trump faces a Monday deadline to secure a financial guarantee to cover the judgment, after a New York judge in February ordered him to pay $464 million in disgorgement and pre-judgment interest when he found the former president and his adult sons liable for using "numerous acts of fraud and misrepresentation" to inflate his net worth in order to get more favorable loan terms.

Trump has denied all wrongdoing and has appealed the decision in the case.

[digitaldetoxworld]

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Require a coins deposit as collateral. They are beneficial for constructing or rebuilding credit score history.

Student Credit Cards

Tailored for college college students, these playing cards frequently have decrease credit limits and can offer rewards for responsible utilization.

Business Credit Cards

Designed for commercial enterprise fees, imparting capabilities like fee monitoring, higher limits, and rewards tailor-made for business spending.

Key Features

Credit Limit

The maximum amount you could charge for your card.

Interest Rate (APR)

The fee of borrowing cash, expressed as an annual percentage.

Annual Fee

A price charged every year for the use of the cardboard, which may vary based totally on the card kind.

Rewards Program

Points or cash back earned on purchases, which may be redeemed for diverse rewards.

Introductory Offers

Promotions like 0% APR for a certain period or bonus rewards for brand spanking new cardholders.

Benefits of Using Credit Cards

Building Credit History

Responsible use can improve your credit score, which is crucial for loans and mortgages.

Convenience

Easily make purchases on line and in-save without carrying coins.

Rewards and Discounts

Earn rewards on spending and access special offers.

Fraud Protection

Many credit score playing cards offer zero liability for unauthorized transactions.

Emergency Funds

Can function a backup in case of surprising costs.

Responsible Credit Card Use

Pay On Time

Always pay your payments by using the due date to keep away from late expenses and hobby costs.

Monitor Your Spending:

Keep song of your purchases to live inside your finances.

Keep Balances Low

Aim to use no greater than 30% of your credit restrict to preserve a healthy credit rating.

Read the Fine Print

Understand the terms, charges, and interest fees associated with your card.

Review Statements

Credit Card Apply Online regularly check your statements for accuracy and document any suspicious hobby.

Conclusion

It  can be valuable financial tools when used responsibly. They offer flexibility, rewards, and the opportunity to build credit score, however it’s vital to manipulate them wisely to avoid debt and keep a wholesome financial profile. Before applying for a credit card, evaluate your spending behavior and pick out one which aligns together with your economic dreams.