#in ​the church i attend i am usually the only person my age there

[coochiequeens]

Another sex offender TIM released into the public.........and given a laptop

Daughter's fury as paedophile father who abused and shared images of her with other sick perverts online before changing gender in prison is quietly released (...and given a laptop by an offender's charity)

By ROSS SLATER

PUBLISHED: 10:47 EDT, 16 July 2023 | UPDATED: 10:49 EDT, 16 July 2023

A paedophile who changed gender while in prison for sexually abusing her own daughter as a child and sending explicit photos of her to perverts online has been quietly released back into the community - and given a laptop by a do-gooding charity.

Claire Fox, 61, who was previously known as Clive Bundy, a father of six, served just seven years of a 15-year jail sentence, before being settled into a tiny market town on the Welsh borders.

Fox, who wears a black wig and floral dresses told neighbours, who knew nothing of her sordid past, that she was an electrician from Bangor as they helped her get settled into her new surroundings and helped her furnish her flat.

Fox's release from prison has appalled her daughter Ceri-Lee Galvin, who bravely waived her right to anonymity, having been abused by her father for nine years from the age of eight.

Revealing her astonishment, Ceri-Lee, 24, told MailOnline: 'My father is not a woman and I refuse to recognise him as such. He changed his gender in prison to make his life there easier.

But now he is out and already up to his usual tricks – conning everyone he meets. 

'The fact he is now dressed as a woman makes him more dangerous as young girls are his thing and he has never shown any remorse.

'My father is a highly manipulative man who has attended no sexual offender rehabilitation programmes, shown no remorse for what he has done and openly admits finding children attractive.

'There have been no meetings I'm aware of to tell local schools about his presence, he has no tag and no curfew. He has just been put into this community and given all he could wish for – food, furniture, a home and a laptop.'

Ceri-Lee, now a student paramedic, added: 'I am in no way transphobic and I feel incredibly sorry for people who genuinely need to transition. They face stigma and worse because of cases like this.

'But it should just not be an option for those convicted of sexual offences against children to suddenly say that they want to be a woman.

'This only arose at the end of 2021 when he was due to be moved to an open prison but then had a fight with a fellow prisoner that was serious enough to stop the move.

'That is when he went for the gender change – when he was almost 60, having been a macho man all his life and having had eight children and having never mentioned gender dysphoria before.

'Now he is being indulged by everyone. The prison service gave him make-up and women's clothes and now a charity for the armed forces have provided him with so much stuff when all he did was a short stint in the Territorial Army in his 20s.

He has conned them. He was never a soldier. The whole thing is outrageous.'

Fox arrived in a sheltered accommodation block for older people in a tiny town at the start of June.

She was given new furniture, a television, printer, washing machine, crockery and a laptop by the armed forces charity SSAFA because she had once been in the Territorial Army.

Fox's neighbour Lyn Robinson, 74, said: 'My first impression was that this person was very cheerful and amenable, assuring all us older people that they'd be no trouble. They seemed very confident despite the outlandish appearance.

'I thought she might find it difficult fitting in so I really took care of her. I gave her clothes and even lent her £70, which is a lot for a pensioner.

'I took her to the food bank at the Baptist Church where she was given loads of stuff including vouchers for a butcher in town and for a coffee shop.

'And we went to a concert at St Edward's Church where I introduced her to the vicar. I had no idea of her history.

Fox's decision to change gender before being released from prison, provoked a storm of protest when it was revealed in April.

She chose the same name as gender-critical campaigner and media pundit Claire Fox, now sitting in the House of Lords as Baroness Fox of Buckley.

Campaign groups fear that by changing their gender, sex offenders can effectively whitewash their past and could avoid detection under the Home Office's Disclosure and Barring Service, set up to protect children from abusers.

DBS uses official paperwork such as a passport or driving licence to carry out their checks, both of which can prove difficult to check after choosing a new name and gender.

The potential loophole is provided by the Gender Recognition Act (2004), which created a 'sensitive applications route' for trans people.

Ceri-Lee added: 'The victim liaison officer told me the only reason I was being informed about the name and gender change was because he had given permission for this to happen.

'It's allowing him to say that Clive Bundy never existed, that my abuse never existed and it is clearly a danger to children which is why I decided to speak out.' 

Fox is not the first sex offender to change gender while in prison

A rapist who carried out sexual attacks as a man named Adam Graham in 2016 and 2019 sparked a heated debate earlier this year after changing gender and name to Isla Bryson while waiting to stand trial at the High Court in Glasgow.

And in 2018, convicted rapist 'Karen White' – branded a 'highly manipulative' predator by a judge – was moved to HMP New Hall in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, and sexually assaulted two women inmates.

Fox was arrested after police discovered images of Ceri-Lee online that the abuser had been trading with other pedophiles.

She was later charged with and admitted to several counts of sexual activity with Ceri-Lee, inciting a child to engage in sexual activity and distributing indecent images.

In 2016 she was sentenced to 15 years in prison. It was not until the end of 2021 that she told the authorities she wanted to change gender.

A SSAFA spokesperson, said: 'SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity provides practical, emotional and financial assistance to serving personnel, reservists, veterans and their families in their time of need. Due to data protection laws and our need to protect our beneficiaries' and employees' confidentiality, we cannot comment on individuals or their circumstances.'

A spokesperson for Dyfed-Powys Police said: 'In line with national guidelines we can neither confirm nor deny the information you have provided.

'However, we can confirm that Multi Agency Public Protection Arrangements are utilised throughout the entire force area to manage appropriate offenders living in the community and they will be closely supervised by local officers to minimise any risk.'

[doveshovel]

can we get more Hunter lore? 👉👈 niche little blorbo

!! Can't believe my little guy has gained niche blorbo status. I am honored, thank you anon <3

Feels it's important to mention that I'm not a very good writer, and Hunter's entire deal is essentially just me trying to make a character whose backstory is wildly out of place in the girl power sparkly horsie game but still sort of works with the cannon actions of the player character. This is just a hastily thrown together summary of how he winds up in Jorvik. That said, of course you can get more Hunter lore! :^D Sorry this took so long but I had to do some art to go with it :'))

Everything's tucked below since there ended up being a lot more than expected :') I think it's all fairly mild but

Content Warnings: Image 1: Some mild blood

Image 2: (dressed) head injury

Hunter's pre-jorvik summary contains: patricide, improper body disposal, vehicle theft (x5), unlawful operation of motor vehicles, crossing state lines with stolen property, trespassing, breaking and entering, evading arrest, speeding, and other minor crimes. Also some mention of drowning, concussion, and brain damage.

When an attempt to slip away from his childhood home in the dead of night goes awry, Hunter accidentally hits and subsequently kills his father with a stolen car, then does some sloppy short-notice body disposal. It's nowhere near enough to make sure he's not a suspect, but it does ensure that the body isn't found for another week (until the neighbors come by to ask why his father wasn't at church, only to find that the front door's been left wide open and a small family of raccoons have made their home in the kitchen). He makes his way from his old house in rural North Carolina (U.S.) northwards through eight states under cover of night, switching cars three times along the way (once in Virginia, once in Pennsylvania, and again in New Jersey) until he arrives at the coast of Massachusetts.

^Hunter, age 19, 5 hours after hiding the body of his father

It's here that (not knowing shit about sailing, boats, or oceanic navigation) he chooses an old pontoon in a private dock to hotwire and sail across the Atlantic with the hope of evading prosecution. Three days into the so-far shockingly successful voyage, rough seas capsize his little vessel, leaving Hunter stranded half-conscious and about two-thirds drowned on some debris until the North Atlantic Current carries him into Jorvegian fishing territory. Five days after accidentally murdering his father, he's spotted drifting on some debris by the crew of a Jorvik fishing vessel and brought back to Cape West where he gets some bearings and starts life anew. :^)

The little pontoon isn't so lucky, and its remains wash up along the coast of Maine nearly three weeks later. By then, it's been connected to Hunter's murder + string of vehicle thefts, and he's presumed to have died at sea in an unsuccessful getaway. In some ways, he did.

Most memories of life before the storm have been wiped clear from his brain, and what little that returns in brief flashes is usually just as quickly forgotten again. Some foggy details of events in early childhood remain, but his entire personality is altered by damage and Hunter becomes someone else entirely, often feeling that he's living in a borrowed body.

^old doodle of Hunter, age 19, a week after landing in Cape West

Hunter spends about two weeks recovering from a concussion and anoxic brain damage at the fishing club's Cape West bunkhouse before he's well enough to start learning the ropes and work doing some slightly less intensive odd-jobs around the village (fixing nets, processing fish, delivering mail, a little stablehand work at Goldenleaf, etc.). He attends a riding camp in Moorland towards the end of his first year in Jorvik at the suggestion of Mr.Trout, who believes it'll be a good way to get some better ideas of what the horse-loving isle of Jorvik has to offer and find some sense of self beyond Goldenhills Valley.

From here, its essentially the main storyline with some minor changes and seasonings thrown in :^)

[transmisible]

“All That” by David Foster Wallace

Among the qualities that made my parents see me as eccentric and mysterious was religion, for, without any prompting or even understanding, I was a religious child—meaning I was interested in religion and filled with feelings and concerns that we use the word “religious” to describe. (I’m not putting any of this well. I am not and never have been an intellectual. I am not articulate, and the subjects that I am trying to describe and discuss are beyond my abilities. I am trying, however, the best I can, and will go back over this as carefully as possible when I am finished, and will make changes and corrections whenever I can see a way to make what I’m discussing clearer or more interesting without fabricating anything.) My parents were intellectuals and devout atheists, but they were tolerant and largehearted, and when I began to ask “religious” questions and to express interest in “religious” themes they freely allowed me to seek out religiously oriented people with whom I could discuss these themes, and even to attend church services and Mass with the families of other children from school and our neighborhood who were religious. If you consider the usual meaning of “atheism,” which, as I understand it, is a kind of anti-religious religion, which worships reason, skepticism, intellect, empirical proof, human autonomy, and self-determination, my parents’ open tolerance of my religious interests and my regular attendance of services with the family next door (by this time my father had tenure, and we had our own home in a middle-class neighborhood with a highly rated school system) was exceptional—the sort of nonjudgmental, respectful attitude that religion itself (as I see it) tries to promulgate in its followers.

None of this occurred to me at the time; nor did the connection between my feelings for the “magic” toy cement mixer and, later, my interest in and reverence for the “magic” of religion become apparent to me until years later, when I was in the second year of seminary, during my first adult crisis of faith. The fact that the most powerful and significant connections in our lives are (at the time) invisible to us seems to me a compelling argument for religious reverence rather than skeptical empiricism as a response to life’s meaning. It is difficult to stay on what feels like the “track” of this discussion in an orderly, logical way. Some of the adults my parents allowed me to approach with religious questions and issues included teachers, a religion professor whom my father knew and respected from an interdepartmental university committee they had served on together, and the father and mother of the family next door, who were both deacons (a type of élite lay minister) in the church two blocks from our home. I will forgo a description of the issues, questions, and themes that my parents allowed me to discuss with these religious adults; they were entirely unexceptional and universal and average, the sorts of questions that everyone eventually confronts in his own time and his own individual way.

My surfeit of religious interest also had to do with the frequency and tenor of the “voices” I regularly heard as a child (meaning up until roughly age thirteen, as I recall it). The major reason that I was never frightened about the voices or worried about what “hearing voices” indicated about my possible mental health involved the fact that the childhood “voices” (there were two of them, each distinct in timbre and personality) never spoke of anything that wasn’t good, happy, and reassuring. I will mention these voices only in passing, because they are both not directly vital to this and also very hard to describe or convey adequately to anyone else. I should emphasize that, although “make-believe” and “invisible friends” are customary parts of childhood, these voices were—or appeared to me as—entirely real and autonomous phenomena, unlike the voices of any “real” adults in my experience, and with manners of speech and accent that nothing in my childhood experience had exposed me to or prepared me in any way to “make up” or combine from outside sources. (I realized just now that another reason that I do not propose to discuss these childhood “voices” at length is that I tend to fall into attempts to argue that the voices were “real,” when in fact it is a matter of indifference to me whether they were truly “real” or not or whether any other person can be forced to admit that they were not “hallucinations” or “fantasies.” Indeed, one of the voices’ favorite topics consisted in their assuring me that it was of no importance whether I believed they were “real” or simply parts of myself, since—as one of the voices in particular liked to stress—there was nothing in the whole world as “real” as I was. I should concede that in some ways I regarded—or “counted on”—the voices as another set of parents (meaning, I think, that I loved them and trusted them and yet respected or “revered” them: in short, I was not their equal), and yet also as fellow-children: meaning that I had no doubt that they and I lived in the very same world and that they “understood” me in a way that biological adults were incapable of.) (Probably one reason that I fall automatically into the urge to “argue for” the voices’ “reality” is that my “real” parents, though they were wholly tolerant of my believing in the voices, obviously viewed them as the same sort of “invisible friend” fantasies I mentioned above.)

At any rate, the best analogy for the experience of hearing these childhood “voices” of mine is that it was like going around with your own private masseur, who spent all his time giving you back—and shoulder—rubs (which my biological mother also used to do whenever I was sick in bed, using rubbing alcohol and baby powder and also changing the pillowcases, so that they were clean and cool; the experience of the voices was analogous to the feeling of turning a pillow over to the cool side). Sometimes the experience of the voices was ecstatic, sometimes so much so that it was almost too intense for me—as when you first bite into an apple or a confection that tastes so delicious and causes such a flood of oral juices that there is a moment of intense pain in your mouth and glands—particularly in the late afternoons of spring and summer, when the sunlight on sunny days achieved moments of immanence and became the color of beaten gold and was itself (the light, as if it were taste) so delicious that it was almost too much to stand, and I would lie on the pile of large pillows in our living room and roll back and forth in an agony of delight and tell my mother, who always read on the couch, that I felt so good and full and ecstatic that I could hardly bear it, and I remember her pursing her lips, trying not to laugh, and saying in the driest possible voice that she found it hard to feel too much sympathy or concern for this problem and was confident that I could survive this level of ecstasy, and that I probably didn’t need to be rushed to the emergency room, and at such moments my love and affection for my mother’s dry humor and love became, stacked atop the original ecstasy, so intense that I almost had to stifle a scream of pleasure as I rolled ecstatically between the pillows and the books on the floor. I do not have any real idea what my mother—an exceptional, truly lovable woman—made of having a child who sometimes suffered actual fits of ecstasy; and I do not know whether she herself had them. Nevertheless, the experience of the real but unobservable and unexplainable “voices” and the ecstatic feelings they often aroused doubtless contributed to my reverence for magic and my faith that magic not only permeated the everyday world but did so in a way that was thoroughly benign and altruistic and wished me well. I was never the sort of child who believed in “monsters under the bed” or vampires, or who needed a night-light in his bedroom; on the contrary, my father (who clearly “enjoyed” me and my eccentricities) once laughingly told my mother that he thought I might suffer from a type of benign psychosis called “antiparanoia,” in which I seemed to believe that I was the object of an intricate universal conspiracy to make me so happy I could hardly stand it.

The specific instance traceable as the origin of my religious impulse after my interest in the cement mixer passed (to my parents’ great relief) involved a nineteen-fifties war movie that my father and I watched together on television one Sunday afternoon with the curtains drawn to prevent the sunlight from making it hard to see the screen of our black-and-white television. Watching television together was one of my father’s and my favorite and most frequent activities (my mother disliked television), and usually took place on the couch, with my father, who read during the commercials, sitting at one end and me lying down, with my head on a pillow on my father’s knees. (One of my strongest sensory memories of childhood is the feel of my father’s knees against my head and the joking way he sometimes rested his book on my head when the commercial interruption occurred.) The movie in question’s subject was the First World War and it starred an actor who was much lauded for his roles in war movies. At this point my memory diverges sharply from my father’s, as evidenced by a disturbing conversation we had during my second year at seminary. My father apparently remembers that the film’s hero, a beloved lieutenant, dies when he throws himself on an enemy grenade that has been lobbed into his platoon’s trench (“platoon” meaning a small military grouping of infantrymen with close ties from being constant comrades in arms). According to my father, a platoon is usually commanded by a lieutenant. Whereas I remember clearly that the hero, played by an actor who was noted for his portrayal of conflict and trauma, suffers private anguish over the moral question of killing in combat and the whole religious conundrum of a “just war” and “justified killing,” and finally undergoes a total psychological breakdown when his own comrade successfully lobs a grenade into a crowded enemy trench and leaps screaming (the hero does, fairly early in the film) into the enemy’s trench and falls on the grenade and dies saving the enemy platoon, and that much of the rest of the film (albeit constantly interrupted by commercials when I saw it) depicts the hero’s platoon struggling to interpret the action of their formerly beloved lieutenant, with many of them bitterly denouncing him as a traitor, many others holding that battle fatigue and a traumatic letter from “Stateside” received earlier in the film exculpated his act as a kind of temporary insanity, and only one shy, idealistic recruit (played by an actor I have never seen in another movie of that era) secretly believing that the lieutenant’s act of dying for the enemy was actually heroic and deserved to be recorded and dramatized for posterity (the shy, anonymous recruit is the narrator, in “voice-overs” at the film’s beginning and end), and I never forgot the movie (whose title both my father and I missed because we didn’t turn on the television until after the movie had begun, which is not the same as “forgetting” the title, which my father jokingly claims is what we both did) or the impact of the lieutenant’s act, which I, too (like the shy, idealistic narrator), regarded as not only “heroic” but also beautiful in a way that was almost too intense to bear, especially as I lay across my father’s knees.

Published in the print edition of the December 14, 2009, issue, with the headline “All That.”

[usingevilforgood]

I have very vivid dreams if anyone wants to know. If they're complex enough, I can remember 2-5 I have each night.

Recently, the content of my dreams has gotten more spiritually related, but that's no surprise as my current fixation as of now is my beliefs.

With that being said, I wanted to record the most recent experience I had, if only a little part of it

I don't like it, but because of how sensitive I am about my personal beliefs, I usually keep them close to the chest; religion especially considering Luciferianism in a predominantly Christian conservative state is extremely controversial..

Any criticism or questioning of the dominant sect of faith will be immediately brushed aside or worse, mocked relentlessly as heresy.

So, in turn, I experience a lot of dreams where I'm confronted by very closed-minded people. I do my best to avoid them in real life, but I can never get away from them when they come from within my mind.

This last time was different, though.

As always, I'd be sitting in this manifestation of a church room; benches positioned aside each other and someone preaching at the very front, usually holding a Bible and raising their voice loud enough for my ears to ring.

I never liked when I was forced to attend sermons as a child; I never understood why we were never allowed to speak or move while a stranger expects our complete reverence for a figure I never really knew personally. It was just a test of how long I could sit still before I felt my bones start to ache.

In this dream, this woman was going on and on about faithfulness; about how any deviation from their teachings was pure unbridled sin.

I looked away as only an attempt to not have to watch her face twist into a passionate disgust when she spoke. But this was the first time I remember seeing anyone else like me: a girl my age sat just behind me with something clasped close to her chest. Just from reading her face, I knew she was going to provoke the preacher; it was a look of defiance but also... I guess a look familiar to how I really felt inside.

I turned away to face forward again, trying not to read into it, but as soon as I did, the girl just behind me spoke up finally. The preacher immediately went silent, an indignant expression written all over her face as this girl spoke. It was certainly surprising even to me.

All that defiance hidden deep inside my head, I heard it coming out from her voice instead; as if in my place. I just turned back around to stare almost in awe. She was so confident, so critical of everything the woman had preached; as if the punishment for blasphemy meant nothing to her.

Before the righteous woman could even find her voice again to reprimand the blasphemer, the girl threw something into my hands. It was what she was hiding in her clutch when I first saw her, but now I could see what it was she had as I looked down into my palm: it was a talisman. A talisman I hadn't recognized.

Before I could understand what was going to happen, the girl ran out of the building; before the other woman could even cast this stranger out herself. I clutched the talisman tight and ran after her. The thought of the sermon was no longer even a factor in my mind.

I just wanted to know who she was that left me this gift; this gift she had paraded in the name of an "Amon"? It was a short name that started with a long booming "Ah" sound when she said it, that i remember most clearly.

I had no idea who she was talking about, but she said it with such strength; such defiance that I had to know who it was and what this talisman was for. It was like the talisman was what gave her the aggression to even challenge the institution, and she gave it to me. Why?

By the time I was able to run from the church into cold damp woods to where she had left to, I was completely alone. Why did she lead me out here? It was drizzling rain, and the air was foggy and blue from the early sunset. She seemed to have disappeared completely before I could ask her anything more. All I could do was look down in my palms at what she had left me. I guess I had to find out the answers on my own.

Here's a simple drawing I did of what the talisman looked like in my dream:

I'm not sure how much of this is symbolic. Anything from the woods to the color of the strings and beads could mean something, but I don't know yet. I'll just have to do my own studying.

If anyone has anything they want to decipher from this or share any kind of similar experience, feel free to add on to this!

[bella-goths-wife]

When two worlds collide

Faith x reader, James x reader

“I’ll see you later” faith says as she kisses you cheek gently

It was the usual Sunday for her, go to church and attend the service of the new pastor. Only this time you couldn’t come with.

Faith had issues with going places alone now, without you she felt lost. Your the one who she clings to for protection and comfort so when your gone she doesn’t feel safe.

It’s especially hard in the church since her father died. She didn’t regret killing him, he threatened your life and your family’s who had taken her in and cleaned up her mess.

But she couldn’t miss a service so she bravely chose to face going somewhere without you and ventured out the cave. She knew she had the protection of you and your fathers if anything were to happen to her so at least she had that comfort.

That didn’t stop the small part of her that had a bad feeling about the situation.

———————————————————————

James waited patiently for his shift to end. With a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his hands furiously scribbling lyrics out on a notepad he waited the clock out.

That’s when he saw the church goers enter the church. That’s where he spotted her, the girl who had caught your attention. The girl who your fathers had bragged about. The girl he wanted to strangle.

She entered the church with a worried look and James scoffed. He hated the fact that you had moved on, he didn’t blame you though. You were obviously manipulated by your fathers and the succubus.

James looks at the clock, one more hour to go. Just enough time to catch her after the service

James smirked and put out his cigarette.

Maybe the two of them could have a conversation about the importance and keeping her hands off what isn’t hers.

———————————————————————-

Faith clutched her bag as she left the church. For some reason she felt eyes on her, she didn’t feel good about this.

She thought about using the church phone to call the cave and get marko to pick her up, but she didn’t want to push her luck with your family who had just began to like her.

She rounded corners and noticed footsteps behind her, she hurried herself down the streets and looked for someone she could use as a distraction. The footsteps sped up as faith clutched the pocket knife that you had given her in her pocket.

She rounds the ally to a shortcut as sees a shadow. She turns her head to find a boy around her age with curly blonde hair. The boy looked at her with a glare and she furrowed her brows, she knew this boy.

He was the one who she saw that night when you cried on her shoulder. This boys was your ex lover.

“Shouldn’t you know better than to go into alleyways?” James asked with a cruel smirk

“Shouldn’t you know better than to follow a girl? pervert” faith scoffs out

“Believe me, goody two shoes isn’t my type” James laughs out “I like my girls with a personality”

“Yes but your type usually see me as their type, don’t they?” Faith smirks out

“I see we can skip the introductions then” James says with a frown “since you know who I am you probably know why I want to talk to you?”

“Not really” faith yawns out as if this conversation bores her “I just assumed that you were a local pervert, you have the look for it”

“Well Im here to discuss my girl” James seethes out “and to give a lesson on not touching what doesn’t belong to you”

“I think you mean my girl” faith looks him up and down with a judgemental look “and someone can’t belong to you if the two of broke up”

“Technically we didn’t break up” James corrects

“Well personally if I saw my boyfriend kissing another girl I would assume that our relationship is over” faiths says with an obvious tone

“That never happened, her fathers made her hallucinate” James says through gritted teeth

“That’s not what he believes though” faith says with a grin “she’s over you, she doesn’t need you anymore”

“And your what she needs?” James asks with a laugh

“I’m what she wants” faith answers

“And what could you possibly give her?” James asks with a glare

“Orgasms” faith answers with a smirk, not knowing what’s coming over her “well, that’s what I’ve been giving her since she left you”

“Shut the fuck up” James yells and faith looks behind you to see a familiar motorcycle

“Well it’s been great” faith pats James’s shoulder sarcastically “I’ve got to go, my girlfriend will be worried if I don’t get home soon”

“You’ll not be with her for long you know” James scoffs out “soon you’ll be a corpse in the sea and I’ll be her mate forever”

“Who says I won’t be around forever?” Faiths asks

“You won’t turn” James taunts “your too scared of your precious god”

“The thing is James, she’s my god now” faith says with a dreamy sigh “I’ll turn with her and be by her side for eternity”

“Not if you die before that” James says with a cruel stare

“I’ll gut you before you even get close to either of us” faiths says calmly with an evil glint in her eye before turning away and walking to the motorcycle “go back to shelving, video boy”

With that, James watches with hatred as she hops on markos motorcycle and speeds away. One thought dominated his mind

He needed to kill that bitch.

Hope you guys enjoyed :)

Love ya ❤️

[calunavulgaris]

It’s been a year and five days since my mom passed away.

A lot can happen in a year. A lot has. I hope she would be proud of what I’ve done and where I am now.

I miss her in a way that can’t be quantified. I knew I would, of course, but I miss her in millions of ways I never could have imagined.

This was the eulogy I read at her service:

I called my mom every morning. I think it helped us both feel close despite our physical distance, and we enjoyed each other’s company. Even if we didn’t have much to say, it brought me comfort just hearing her voice.

Anyone here who ever had a conversation with my mom knows that she loved talking with others. On the phone, she would usually say she would let me go two to three times, creating diversions to buy just a few minutes more before getting to her actual wrap up, which was always “Aaaat any rate…”; the signal that she was actually going to hang up.

Mom had recently discovered she could virtually attend services here, at her old home church, and it made her so happy. She had struggled with a crisis of faith and had left the church for many years, and this return, though not physical, brought her a lot of comfort and happiness.

During our calls, she would talk about that week’s service, how much she enjoyed the music and all the good that was being done here.

It was here that her grandparents attended in their youth, and she would tell anyone who would listen that her grandfather and his brother not only sang in the choir but that they were so good they went on to sing at St James Cathedral. She was married here. And it was this church that welcomed her with open arms when her life took a turn she didn’t anticipate. She saw her children baptized under this roof, witnessed our first communions and confirmations, and did her best to provide for our spiritual nurturing within these walls. This was her spiritual home.

She had also, not long ago, expressed to me that she would like to visit again in person someday, if possible. I told her I would love to help make that happen.

I couldn’t have imagined that these would be the circumstances of her return, but we’ve made it happen all the same.

Welcome home, Mom.

She lived a humble life, but I never heard her complain over what she lacked. She gave what she could of herself, her love, time, patience, understanding and advocacy whenever and however she was able. She freely offered the service of her considerable talents in knitting and crafting. It gave her no greater joy than to provide warmth and comfort to others, to let them know in some way that they were thought of and cared for.

When she made her first return to St. John’s in 1983, she confessed to a fellow parishioner that she was angry at God. At the age of 25 she was left a single mom of three children under the age of five. She was still growing up, herself, and single parents were not common in those days.

I think we can all relate to that feeling of anger, in our own way, if not now then at some point in our lives.

The friend responded, “It’s okay to be mad at God. He can take it, He has big shoulders. He can carry the weight of our anger. He still loves you.”

She found support, understanding and forgiveness within this church community. When she was in need, she never had to reach far for a helping hand. It’s no wonder this old building held, and I’m sure still holds, a big part of her heart.

She told me once, “My life didn’t turn out as planned, but I got three great kids out of the deal. Three kids I might not have had if I’d made different decisions, so I don’t have room for regret.”

James and Sarah, I want you to know that Mom loved you and was so proud of you. Never doubt that. Dubs and Ash, you were your Grammy’s pride and joy and I have no doubt she will be watching over you, delighting in your lives. Celeigh, while Mom never had the pleasure of meeting you, I know she would have adored you for making her little boy so happy. Matt, my mom did what she always did when she saw a kid in need of mothering: she took you under her wing and made you family.

She loved us all and we are better for having had her love.

Aaaaat any rate…

Let us never forget her. Let her memory be a blessing unto us all.

[dcbbw]

Sunday Six 9.24.23

Happy Sunday evening, Tumblrs! I know I have been MIA for the absolute longest, and wanting to give a huge THANK YOU to those who know the dirty deets about what’s been going on this summer, and being the shoulders, ears, support, and encouragement, I need to carry on and carry through one day at a time.

Despite posting two dribbles over the past day or so, not saying I am on the comeback trail, but I have been putting fingers to keyboard, and sharing story ideas. While they are not part of today’s Sunday Six, I am working on Sins of the Father; a part two to Dead in the Water (the How to Get Away with Murder AU), tentatively titled Tell Me When I’m Telling Lies; and a Riam one-shot that may become a casual series titled Happy Family.

What I offer to you tonight dear readers are two new ideas (well one isn’t that new):

Church Folk (the MegaChurch AU) based on Wonder’s worst ever version of Riam; she looks like a cross between Wendy Williams and Dionne Warwick, and has six fingers (five whole ass fingers and a thumb); Asian Liam is a dead ringer for Joel Osteen. They are co-pastors of the First, Last, & Only Cordonian Church of God in Christ where the mottos are:

We’re Alphabet Friendly!

God LOVES a Sinner, and so do we

Jesus Ain’t No Joke!

Think of every megachurch scandal, and give Riley Tammy Faye Baker’s hair …

A Summer Place—The Graduate which is an age-gap romance between Liam and Diana, who is Drake & Riley’s daughter. Except Liam doesn’t know, and Diana knows nothing about Cordonia except it is where her parents’ once-great love story originated.

There will be two versions to this story; Version B is titled A Summer Place—Mrs. Robinson, where Riley has an age-gap romance with Andreas, Liam’s son who visits NYC for the summer before starting University. Again, they have no idea of the other.

I realize others are writing age-gap/forbidden romances, but I am hopeful that my ideas and execution will make mine different from what's out there. And it’s me; by the time I finish writing the stories, it isn’t as if I’ll be glutting the market with the trope.

Okay, enough rambling; sneak peeks are below the cut, and as usual everything is in a state of rough draft and published product may vary.

Church Folk (song inspo: Church Clap, KB/Lecrae):

Their courtship had lasted two years; at Liam’s insistence, it had been chaste as well. At least for one of them.

The couple attended church together: Monday night Praise and Devotionals, Wednesday evening Bible study, couples therapy on Saturday mornings, 11am Sunday Sermon.

Between work and church activities, Liam and Riley dated; meals, museums, hikes, volunteering at soup kitchens. No matter the time or venue, all tended to end with them getting hot and heavy in the back seat of his car: Moans, groans, fogged windows; deep French kisses, groping of breasts and fondling of balls, arching and thrusting of hips. All the while keeping their clothes on.

The son of a preacher man never allowed himself to finger Riley nor for her to stroke his manhood.

Penetration was completely out of the question.

Riley often thought it was because of her 6th finger, and that despite his protests, Liam really could not deal with it. But he assured his bride-to-be between desperate kisses that it didn’t matter. Saving themselves for marriage did.

Liam Osteen Rhys firmly believed Riley had been sent to him; her polydactyl was a sign from God Himself that this woman was to be his wife. In the biblical sense, her extra finger was a sign of both wealth and that she was a messenger of God. Liam needed the former, FLOCC needed the latter. In the scientific sense, persons with polydactyl were proven to be stronger and more dexterous than those without.

Yes, Riley B. Williams was his good thing, and he wasn’t letting lust interfere. So, after every date while Riley sat alone in her bedroom with her battery-operated boyfriend and Pornhub pulled up on her phone, Liam visited Maybelle Nussbaum, his high school sweetheart.

If all had gone according to Liam’s plan, he would be wedded to Maybelle already, but his father absolutely forbade an inter-faith marriage. Only one version of God would be worshipped in the Rhys family, and THEIR God believed in ham, bacon, shrimp, and one day to celebrate the birth of Christ.

With Maybelle, Liam could go all the way, and he did. Every time. Sometimes protection was used, but most times not. The future preacher was convinced God wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to him because he always sought forgiveness afterwards.

On their wedding day, all of Cordonia’s press outlets were present, as well as most of the town; the Rhys family was practically royalty in the small suburb, and everyone wanted to be in attendance for the wedding of a lifetime. Liam stood at the altar with his father, best man and groomsmen, occasionally looking over the crowd still being seated.

His eyes widened when the doors to the ceremony room opened and Maybelle Nussbaum strode through, wearing baggy sweatpants, a vomit-stained tee shirt, and her hair in a messy blonde bun. A swaddled infant rested in the crook of one arm; her free hand pulled a rolling suitcase behind her.

Liam had broken it off with his lover exactly 13 months earlier; he needed to focus on being a husband and ensure no hint of scandal touched his betrothment. He did it via text message and promptly blocked Maybelle’s number and deleted their chat history. And that was the end of that.

Or so he thought.

“Here ya go, Liam! You left this in my uterus right before you blocked me,” the new mother said loudly and cheerily as she placed the baby in a non-plussed Liam’s arms.

The murmurs and whispers amongst the guests began immediately. Constantine’s complexion turned a vague shade of purple. The groomsmen’s eyes went between Maybelle and Liam, who was sputtering and stammering as he protested.

“YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME WITH THIS CHILD, MAYBELLE!” Liam thundered.

“Why not? You did it to me,” Maybelle retorted as she rolled the suitcase up to the altar. “Everything you need is in there. I’m gonna skedaddle now. Take good care of her.���

The scorned lover slipped out a side door just as the Wedding March began to play.

A Summer Place—The Graduate (Version A, Liam)

Song Inspo: Parallel, Emlie Kahn

The server and the sovereign stood at the balcony’s railing as they awaited their food. The dock surrounding the sea harbor was gaily decorated with colorful streamers and balloons. The intricately painted dragon boats sat in their slips, bobbing against the gently cresting aquamarine sea while crew members worked on last minute inspections and details before the race.  

Diana’s chocolate brown eyes were wide with excitement as they took in the scene before her.  

“This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like this. Montana is basically bull riding, which is literally flags and cowboy hats. And the ocean … it’s so blue and clear, like something out of a painting!” 

Liam studied her profile, wondering why he had the nagging feeling he had seen her before. Her olive complexion, high cheekbones, the curvature of her full lips. It was as if he had seen her features on another face, but not in this particular order. 

“It’s the Aegan Sea,” he gently corrected her, “and yes, it’s a beautiful sight.” 

Diana felt her cheeks flush crimson, as embarrassment flooded her body. She stared up at Liam contritely. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m a goof!” 

Liam’s arm reached out and his palm gently patted the back of her hand. “Why would I think that? You simply didn’t know. It’s your first time here.” 

Diana’s eyes went between Liam’s hand on hers and his eyes, which were filled with a gentle emotion.  

“You’re fine,” he assured her as his other hand ran fingers through her hair, tucking strands behind her ear.  

She felt a pleasant shiver at his touch, which she quickly dismissed as her imagination. Yes, Liam was manly perfection with his trim physique, head full of hair untouched by gray, and the face of a Greek god. But he was her father’s age and had women across the country and continent ready to do his bidding.  

She was a tourist that would be leaving in a couple of months. A nobody, 24 years his junior who didn’t know an ocean from a sea. Diana slowly pulled her hand away from his.  

“So, what’s for lunch? I’m starving!” she said a little more loudly than intended.  

“Oh, you are in for a treat!” Liam grinned. “Mediterranean seafood pie, scallops in a lemon garlic cream sauce, lobster tails stuffed with crabmeat, crab imperial …" 

“Oh my God! It’s like Red Lobster!” Diana exclaimed as she clapped her hands together.  

Liam looked puzzled. “Red Lobster?” 

“It’s an American surf and turf chain restaurant. It’s delicious!” 

“I can only hope Portavira lives up to such a lofty ideal.” 

Tagging: @jared2612​​​ @ao719​ @marietrinmimi​ @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac​​​ @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​ @twinkleallnight​​​ @umccall71 @superharriet​​​ @busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm​​​ @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14​​​ @mainstreetreader​​​ @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512​​​ @princessleac1​​​ @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys​​​ ​​​ @choicesficwriterscreations

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

8.29.24 Friday

12 midnight

Streaming, I don't know if they can hear me but I said Go to HELL Church Of Christ!!!

1:46 am

Still,have windblow...

Be guilty whoever you are putting me on mute! It is impossible that there is no sound but there is no sound at all... Someone can hack and control the system of this Samsung... I streamed in Tagged without a sound... How can I call my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x?

I can't even verbalize my power as I...

I heard a humour, I heard humour that my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x will see me in Tagged. He will never stop to think of me, he will never find happines but only with me or there will be a big tragedy for them...

9:43 am

As early as 9 am seeing Uncle DD doing some task outside...

Still, not my ideal life here they made me undergraduate? The people in Cavite???

My left eye and behind of it and left side of my head going to a bit to the back of my head is in pain since I got angry yesterday... I was mad coz my soundcard couldn't sync in on my phone plus my situation now here. I feel undergraduate that I have no future...

Or someone from "Church Of Christ" was intentionally controlled my system to be muted in my virtual world...

Thinking of money and my job and my future and my love for my cousin-white or my love for him....

My shoulder feel stiff and in pain, both sides... I was massaging it using my own personal gun massage... ? ;) But it is the truth... Frustration...

1:51 pm

Still,have windblow...

I didn't know that Uncle DD and Aunt Karen are still members of devilish "Church Of Christ" coz they have a magazine or the Pasugo inside their car... Shocking!!!

I just pooped in their bathroom... Our toilet bowl is still clogged...

2:51 pm

Uncle Jun is mad again coz our door is locked....He heavily banged the door few minutes ago, he went in here just to drink water... I usually locked the door if everyone is sleeping here after lunch... Coz we are sleeping....

I thought he brought us bottled water or coffee and hopia from the funeral event that he attended but nothing...

3:01 pm

Join me angels??? I hope you guys don't mind...

2 days to go then I will start again my Multi-fruit Micro-peeling of Dr.Alvin...

Just to remind my angels we will just use the "toner only"... Meaning we will still use our other brands of facial wash... For 2 weeks just the "toner only" only Monday and Friday for 2 weeks...

September 2 & 6 ; 9 & 13 toner only before bed time... Just a very small amount or thinly application... For 2 weeks...

Fuck the Devilish who muted me in Tagged... I'm trying to get my own group in beauty, cult of beauty! Inside & Out... The genuiene beauty!

3:11 pm

Still, have windblow...

The bitterness is still here... I'm a college graduate but I'm bummer.... Or there are people who are damaging me for 17 years...

Mitch did you give me these "simple battery"??? Be responsible Mitch....

I really love my cousin-white on my Aunt Ten2x....I want him to save me supposed to be....

5:26 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel bitterish... I'm panicking... I lost my future and they took my vanities,angels and I feel super jealous now... They took my love life and future... They took my social life as well...

I need a money and job... They took away the years that I was supposed to be getting a better life and now taking away my cousin-white from me....

Now,that I'm aging for nothingness??? They took away my vanities as well and my cute stuff as well and my woman stuff like my perfumes!

Those people behind fixed themselves,beautify themselves ahead of me... They just put me on the wall unfairly!!!

5:38 pm

Still,have windblow...

I wanna have a christmas tree angels!!! I do believe on Christmas Day... I wanna have a Christmas Tree at Christmas... It's been a long time they took away my childhood...They took away my Christmas Tree for so long!!! They took away my socks for 17 years,I never progress as individual....

6:19 pm

Uncle DD is crazy for being an actor here... He is imagining something...

He is not real on Neko again and again and to us here... He is trying to portray something.... Neko is as well our dog here just in the closet...

I'm controllong myself not to laugh angels... He is always stopping me to feed Neko but the truth there were so many days that he didn't feed Neko at all... I'm controlling not to laugh,coz there is a different soul in him...

8:31 pm

Still,have windblow...

Thanks Ely for the back-up of Napkin & Coffee...

It will be in a lil while...

9:56 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel stress... The pink efan that we are using, my old efan the Asahi suddenly its fan blade suddenly break... I need to buy a fan blade again... It is the 3rd time... But I don't believe on premonition on something as long as you are genuienly have faith on something....

This is not my ideal life, I need to ask a back-up again from any friend... I need to have my own money and I wanna buy Starbucks everyday... I feel self-pity for not having a job or career. I feel so ugly that I have my own personal insecurities... I don't like women that I don't like or don't know that much but it depends if I sense goodness on her.

This is very negative if you don't have any extra in your pocket...

I feel so ugly... I feel insecure but I still wanna end up with someone who can understand me.Age is just a number vanity is forever... I have so many complex... I wanna give birth at the same time I wanna fix my beauty, they made it over-lapping for 17 years... I never feel beautiful!!!

I want my cousin-white to embrace me 100% that probably I will slap his face coz of my bitterish emotion!

My cousin-white is really cute or any cute that I want but my cousin-white is in my head and my choice to have... I have maturity, I'm a college graduate and I was spoiled... I was raised having a good vanities and hygiene but now I'm fading and losing it but I'm still trying to survive...

I can't go back to my old toiletries... I'm having chest pain due to stress... Oh! God! Allow me to be dinosaur coz I'm not yet fulfilled...

[ahopkins1965]

Online Activities

It is very interesting to be online because it is not only a first amendment right, but a privilege. There are millions of chat rooms for people according to their age group as well as those who like to flirt. Online Activities has changed a whole lot since the 1990s. This is because there are additional websites and there are games to play while you are online. It is very nice as long as it is mature and civil. I want to inform all of you that I get along with everyone online. I do not cuss anymore because it is not worth it. I am getting older and wiser. I know that there are a lot of online activities that I am interested in at this time. I like to chill online on a daily basis. I cannot let any of my online activities interfere with me attending church on a regular basis.

Next, when it comes to me having an online relationship with a decent woman, we eventually will have to meet. I cannot afford to get scammed anymore by computer hackers, scammers, and data thieves. These criminals will interfere with your personal life. Online Activities are very stimulating to the mind, body, soul, and spirit. They are a learning experience to me because it enables me to seek knowledge that I have never saw before. At least I would not have to worry about collecting a lot of online printouts from the printer. I will be able to blog about a topic that interest me. Online Activities are supposed to enable a person to learn about the computer, or website. If I am playing online games with someone that I know, at least I will enjoy myself. I like to laugh and smile whenever I am enjoying an activity with one of my friends.

Further, online activities are for everyone. They are designed for children and adults alike. It is that when it comes to non secure websites, children should not be on them because of the content of the matter is too sensitive for children. I know that if I had children, I would instruct them not to be on any non secure website until they are 18 years old. This is because they see enough while they are inside of their homes anyway. Children are exposed to vulgarity because they hear it from their own parents. They do not need to be barraged with vulgarity while they are online anyway. It is best to monitor all of your children’s online activities because parents can get into trouble by members of law enforcement. This is if a child is doing something that they do not have any business doing online.

Moreover, online activities are like a breath of fresh air. This is because a person is doing something that they enjoy doing online. For instance, there are computer games online as well as research projects to enhance the learning and it also improves a person’s memory. There are memory games online as well as games that are nice. Online Activities are supposed to be enjoyable and not depressing. These high technological activities are very, very, interesting. A person who loves online activities can read a magazine or book online. There are other activities such as those of a sexual nature. The internet itself is also corroded with filth such as pornography and illicit activities. Children are not supposed to engage in any of these activities.

Online Activities entertains us in a variety of ways. It also entertains us by the things are on it. There are matters that are nice. It is supposed to promote a sense of peace inside of our minds each day. There are online activities that people who are in relationships are supposed to be doing. There are dating websites that computer hackers, scammers, and data thieves usually are present. They are waiting for anyone to enter them. These dating non secure websites tickle our fancy. The websites that I am talking about are those that have only one objective. A person is supposed to find friends.

They will do whatever it takes to find a friend online. A man will submit their phone numbers to each woman that he sees online. His primary purpose is to have sex with her and leave her where she is standing. I am not like that!! I am a one woman man. I am waiting on God to bless me with that God fearing woman!! Online Activities enable everyone to seek knowledge and learn from everyone that they encounter. It is very important that we exercise caution while we are online with anyone.

Anyone who is online will have to make sure that you are talking to the right person and not a scammer, computer hacker, or data thief. There are times when people usually meet online and eventually end up getting married. It is very important to make sure that all of your personal information is not online for any thief to get it. Online Activities can definitely get out of hand sometimes. This is because there are people who are online who do not like the next person, or they are jealous of them for what they are doing.

The average ages of those who are online right now are 18 to 40.

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT MARTIN OF TOURS The Patron Saint of Reformed Alcoholics, Riders and Quartermasters Feast Day: November 11

"Lord, if your people still have need of my services, I will not avoid the toil."

Known as 'Martin the Merciful', the patron of those who against poverty and alcoholism, beggars, hotel-keepers, innkeepers, the Archdiocese of Bratislava, the Diocese of Rottenburg-Stuttgart, and the U.S. Army Quartermaster Corps, was born in 316 or 336 in the Diocese of Pannonia (now Szombathely, Hungary). At the age of 10 he attended the Christian church against the wishes of his parents and became a catechumen. Christianity had been made a legal religion (in 313) in the Roman Empire. It had many more adherents in the Eastern Empire, whence it had sprung, and was concentrated in cities, brought along the trade routes by converted Jews and Greeks (the term 'pagan' means 'non-combatant'). Christianity was far from accepted among the higher echelons of society; among members of the army the worship of Mithras would have been stronger. Although the conversion of the Emperor Constantine and the subsequent programme of church-building gave a greater impetus to the spread of the religion, it was still a minority faith.

According to his biographer, Sulpicius Severus, he served in the military for only another two years, though it has been argued that these two years, 'are in fact not nearly enough to bring the account to the time when he would leave, that is, during his encounter with Caesar Julian (the one who has gone down in history as Julian the Apostate) Martin would have been 45 years old when Julian acceded to the throne, and at the usual end of a military contract.'

Being the son of a Roman officer (tribune), he was forced to enter the army at 15, and was required to join a cavalry ala. At the age of 18 (around 334 or 354), he was stationed at Ambianensium civitas or Samarobriva in Gaul (now Amiens, France).

While he was stationed at Gaul when Martin was 23, he saw at the gate a beggar almost frozen to death. Immediately, he cut his military cloak into two pieces with his sword, and gave one to the poor man. That night, Martin saw Jesus Christ in his sleep, dressed in that half cloak. Thereafter, he wanted to leave the army to serve God alone. But the Barbarians were about to attack, and Julian interpreted it as an act of cowardice.

Martin replied: 'I am prepared to stand in the battle-line unarmed and to advance alone against the enemy in the name of Christ.'

Martin declared his vocation, and made his way to the city of Caesarodunum (now Tours), where he became a disciple of Hilary of Poitiers' Christian orthodoxy. He opposed the Arianism of the Imperial Court. When Hilary was forced into exile from Pictavium (now Poitiers), Martin returned to Italy. According to Sulpicius, he converted an Alpine brigand on the way, and confronted the Devil himself. Having heard in a dream a summons to revisit his home, Martin crossed the Alps, and from Milan went over to Pannonia. There he converted his mother and some other persons; his father he could not win over.

The following day, the Barbarians miraculously asked for an armistice. Thus, Martin was allowed to leave the army and to receive baptism. Having preached the Gospel to his family, Martin became a monk at Ligugé in France.

Martin was elected as bishop of Tours in 371, proving himself an excellent pastor. He founded monasteries, educated the clergy, and gave particular attention to the conversion of the rural population. He is also credited with destroying many pagan temples and sacred trees. He spent the last days of his life with his hands raised to heaven.

To those who suggested he got some relief by lying on his other side, he answered: 'Allow me to look toward heaven rather than the earth.'

Then, he saw the devil standing near and cried: 'You, bloodthirsty brute, will not have me for your prey!'

With these words, Martin gave up his spirit on November 8, 397 in Candes, Gaul (modern-day France) at the age of 60 or 81. Martin of Tours was proclaimed patron of Italian volunteering by the Italian bishops in the spring of 2021.

[itsylizz]

"A Student's and A Servant Life" (My Autobiography)

On August 20, 2004, a Cavitenia girl was born at De La Salle University Medical Center in Dasmarinas Cavite and was named Liezette Anne Bautista Gonzales. My family and friends usually call me Lizz, or Zette for short. I am 18 years old and the daughter of Marilou Girlee B. Gonzales, who is from Malabon City, and Joselito V. Gonzales, who is from Occidental Mindoro. I have two brothers, Jerico Jay B. Gonzales, a freelancer and photographer for his own business, and Kristopher Jayson B. Gonzales, our family nurse. Since 2002, my family has already lived here at Imus Cavite, at Treelane 3, Bayan Luma, Imus City, and Cavite. This has been my safe place since I was born. And I was baptized in the Catholic church of the diocesan shrine and parish of Our Lady of the Pillar—Imus Cathedral.

As I remembered, Bayan Luma 5 Day Care Center became my first second home as a nursery school pupil, where I learned to recite the letters of the alphabet and count numbers from 1 to 10. I usually cried because I didn't want my mother to leave me during school hours. Then, I transferred to La Trinidad Academy, a private school located right within our subdivision. I went there from Kinder to Grade 10. I was always happy and at ease when I attended my class since our house was only at the back of the school. Here is where I met my genuine friends, who have always been there for me in good and bad times. When I was in the third grade, I received my first communion in the same church where I was baptized. I had my confirmation in sixth grade. I joined the Amare Et Servire La Trinidad Academy's Campus Ministry until I completed my tenth grade. I've been an active servant of the Lord since then. In 2016, I joined the choir at Our Lady of the Pillar Bayan Luma Chapel, where I am in charge of doing the slides to be used during Sunday Mass. I really learned a lot. After graduation, I needed to transfer to another institution. My family and I chose Emilio Aguinaldo College Cavite. Finally, I was enrolled to spend my senior years at this school. I study hard not to get failing grades. Knowledge and experience have also helped me become a better student who has a goal to achieve. Now I can say that I am an Emilian graduating student.

But nonetheless, I can categorize myself as an introvert. I am shy at first, but after you get to know me, you will see the true person in me. Sometimes I am a moody person too, who easily gets annoyed, and if I am not in a good mood, I keep silent. However, in my 18 years of existence in this world, I have enjoyed life from being a chubby, crying baby to the age when I am no longer a child. While I am of legal age, I am mature enough to make my own life decisions, but I am not physically independent for the time

[adamsart]

Starting a daily blog of my life. My backstory is one of a life misspent, years lost to incarceration, loss after loss, traumatic event after traumatic event, life always lived in the moment with no time to even process what I was going thru only time to react and survive. I made alot of stupid decisions and choices along the way. However I’ve always believed myself to be a good friend and decent person to other human beings. I’m sure this could be debated depending on who’s opinion you might find. No one is perfect or innocent but I believe I have left more bridges intact rather than burning. Today I want to start focusing on my future rather than dwelling on my past. About 6 months ago I made the decision that I was going to escape the state of Utah. Out of the 40 years I’ve spent on this beautiful planet 20 or so of those years have been spent in the state of Utah it’s where I was born and raised and lived thru tremendous amounts of religious, economical, sexual and other types of abuse/discrimination. Most people think of Utah as one of the best places to raise a family which may be true if your Mormon, White, upper middle class, sheep. I can assure you for a free thinking, non church going, working class person like myself Utah has continually been a place of loss,sadness,pain,shame,and regret. Not that it is all bad just most of it. I remember I used to listen to my father get up for work everyday and as he was waking up he would go thru what I like to call waking gripes and complaints. My dad couldn’t wake up without mumbling on for hours about all his problems. Usually my brother and I but alot about the fucking Mormons and this fucking state this and this state that and I remember thinking I bet if dad had a better attitude maybe people would treat him different and I thought all these problems he bitched about were probably more him than Utah or it’s people. I discovered he was totally right about everything it only took being kicked out of the state of Utah at 15 years old and living in Pennsylvania for 3 years during high school to open my eyes to just how horrible things are there for some. I guess I am thankful to some degree because fighting daily thru my childhood being discriminated by an entire population Adults and kids alike, finding a way to survive by myself as a young teen, doing time etc. have all made me a much stronger person mind body and soul than most humans. I also believe I feel love, happiness, and gratefulness on a deeper level than most as well as being able to find happiness with very little material. I think because of the hell abuse loss with no one to help me up I can appreciate even the smallest beauty in life. Find gratefulness in the smallest gain. Trying to get this back on track sorry if this has become hard to follow. So by the age of 13 years old I caught my first three felonies. I was in the beginning of my 8th grade year and was arrested for cultivation of marijuana, distribution in a school zone, and dangerous weapon on school property. I was caught selling a dime bag to a friend at school and was ratted out because I was made to be the “problem” when the cops searched my room they found my closet grow lol. And the knife I carried on me. These were actually my first charges ever I remember being walked out of school in cuffs all of the kids staring at me being put in the back of the local sheriffs car. Never to see regular school again. For the rest of 8th and 9 th grade I rode a school bus for 2 hours on my way to school and 2 hours to get home not because of the distance but the school I had to attend only had 2 busses and had to pick up and drop off kids from one end of Davis county to the other and I was last to get dropped off and first to get picked up in the morning. 36 to 45 of Davis county’s most hated kids under one roof. My 13 year old stoner self was put into school and classes with other troubled youth however most of the other kids were there for fights or violence of some sort not dealing and growing drugs.

[jazeejae]

SOULMATE, LOVE, DATING, MARRIAGE IN SOUTH KOREA.

This research was done by a person living in South Korea. I was asked a question and given advice by someone who mentioned "soulmate" and I don't claim to have the perfect answer to these questions, just my research that may clarify, remember this is South Korean culture, not the USA's or any other country. I agree with this person's research. I don't believe that Tae and Jimin are soulmates but I do believe that Jimin and Jungkook are soulmates according to this research. If you remember Jungkook's mother called Jimin... Jimin'ah is giving notification of calling him "son". She also expressed to Jimin that she loves him. Only the family will use the 'ah expression at the end of a name.

"Promise you'll marry a Korean woman, and she'll do anything" is a common stereotype among foreign men, which is not true. It's another form of discrimination toward women.

Needless to say that no two Korean women or men have the same criteria when they date or the same principles about dating behavior. As a linguist, I am interested in how Koreans talk when they date, and a common denominator is that compared to many Western societies, many things are left unsaid. If you think this "indirect" way of talking is peculiar among Asian people, I heard that Scandinavians, especially Danish couples, also had that "indirect" way of speaking to each other.

Korean society has particular gender roles among young people. Some couples date for years, four years, five years, or ten years, without ever mentioning that they are in love or will one day marry each other in Korea. Men, in general, are still expected to do all the talking related to where the couple is heading.

But dating in Korea, just like everywhere else, is a little more complicated than that. Some men and women want to date exclusively to marry, while others want to experiment before marriage. How does it all start? Remember that Koreans never talk to people they are not affiliated with or know. It is technically out of the question to go to a bar or nightclub, dance, has a drink with a man or woman we are physically attracted to, or exchange phone numbers.

To explain this is why the concept of "소개팅" (seogetting) is so popular. Seogetting is when a friend - "the third party" - introduces a friend -"the potential soulmate"- to a friend, "the single friend" - so that they can eventually date. The process involves the third party talking to his single friend about the potential soulmate giving every detail: age, college attended, attendance company, parents' job, family situation, etcetera etcetera.

Koreans take every detail into account, and one minor flaw can end up in rejection. Say, if the father died of a genetic illness, the single friend might refuse. Or the single friend may accept to meet the potential soulmate a few times but may make them wait until career progress is assured. Say, if the man or woman is expecting a promotion, the single friend may wait until the advertising is effective to engage in any form of dating.

Other forms of dating involve people dating people who are from the same organization. Still, since dating someone from the same school or company often consists of gossip from former classmates or colleagues, the most popular affiliation for couples is churches or temples. The funny thing is that many single Koreans attend churches only to find a soulmate as to what was told to me and then quit attending church as they find their significant other.

There is no conventional definition of dating in Korea. Some couples claim that they date but never actually kissed each other. It is not uncommon for foreigners to think they are dating Koreans until asked if the person they are dating is a "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" and to their surprise, find out that they are not.

As I mentioned, gender roles are critical, and men guide women in dating. Men usually choose appointment places, pay for meals, and do most of the talking. Korean couples tend to avoid topics they may disagree upon or demand specialization: politics, society, the economy, etc., and tend to discuss lighter issues: entertainers, and yellow papers. Note that gossip may take an essential portion of their conversation if they belong to the same organization. If they don't belong to the same organization, it is not uncommon for couples in Korea to have very little to tell each other.

Of course, in expectation, men in South Korea plan the future in an almost "unilateral" way: men plan everything, and women either agree or disagree but never directly offer alternatives. Women may indirectly suggest options for the future, saying, "We should go to the Maldives one day" rather than saying, "let's spend our honeymoon in the Maldives."

Also, note that it's considered "deviant" for a woman to "break up" with their significant other (dating/engaged), so women will do everything, including date someone else, rather than tell their boyfriends, "let's break up."

[gayerthanevertbh]

say your prayers - one.

pairings | dark!priestess!natasha romanoff x reader

– summary: your school have church service once every week. of course, as a good little schoolgirl you are, you attend to it. which means you always have to see your priestess, natasha, who you are secretly infatuated with. until there was an unexpected turn that made you feel something else other than good. but maybe, even better.  

– warnings: smut/dark taboo themes - 18+ YOU’VE BEEN WARNED! non-con/dub-con, religious themes, sacrilegious acts, blasphemy of religion, biblical references, rough sex, loss of virginity, dark!natasha, oral sex (r receiving), Mother kink, heavily detailed smut, natasha being a creep, and more.

– notes: this was so well written i’m actually kind of happy about this chapter. there will be more in the future, for now this. enjoy! <3

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I attend the chapel every week. The school requires you to, so I don’t really have a choice. Usually, my choices are: to drop my scholarship and move to a new school so I don’t have to do all the religious routine or suck it up. And mostly, I do suck it up. Mainly because my parents are believers of God and would be a saint when it comes to him. I’m like that too, I pray and confess my sins and sometimes even ask for help when I do need it. I’m a good girl, as they say. And I am a good girl.

It just simply goes away once I see my priestess once a week.

Ruther Catholic College has been my high school life, I’ve been in boarding school ever since I turned fifteen years old. My parents, who are religious people, think that Catholic schools do good for schoolgirls like me. I am a good schoolgirl, I just have issues that I’d rather not talk about. I have never been vocal about it either, not finding a sense in it since I don’t talk to a lot of people. I do have friends, but I skip my time with them so that I could read my books. I’m an aspiring writer, a journalist. I write the simplest stories that are book worthy and it makes me think that I am talented and educationally smart–since I was raised that way. I’m a Rogers, for Christ’s sake. Of course, being academically smart has to be on the charts.

But I cannot shake off my infatuation with my priestess, Natasha, who is twice my age. She has the kindest eyes that I’ve ever laid my eyes on, all my teachers are bastards and have soggy jawlines. But Mother Natasha has a face of a babe with the maturity that comes with it. Her lips are subtle and thick, and her hands are quite long and neat. She wears this attire every Friday and does the chapel, preaches the word of God, and makes us go to the confession room to reveal our sins with no shame. I still have to wonder who was behind that divider, because there are many women in that church that could possibly be forgiving my sins. I’ve blatantly confessed to many women, not knowing who they are.

Anyway, the humanities building is the largest dorm of all in New York. We have our own rooms, our own food too. But we are still required to go to the cafeteria to say our prayers, to bond with other schoolgirls. I, personally, do like having my own space. The context of someone being in your room can be very intrusive, which I am not fond of. I have a desk that has most of my writings, and poems that are short. On the other side, my single bed was there as well as my long rectangular-shaped window. Beside the door are my bookshelves which have the cross of Jesus Christ above the wooden shelf. I’d invite a friend or two to have a book date, but never less sleep there. There would be a couple of nuns on the watch, especially at night. That means we aren’t allowed to even get out of the building without permission and say where we are headed. Only our parents can pick us up from our school.

Today is Friday which is my luck to see Mother Natasha again. I hiked my white long socks all the way to my knees and got into my black shoes that felt hard on my heels. Though, I have no choice but not to wear them. When I was in the hallway, I could feel the cold breeze of the air. It’s September and it’s the start of my year, I turned eighteen a week ago and spent it with my parents. Some of them say I still act like a fifteen-year-old kid, but I don’t think that way. With how smart I am, I felt like an adult once I reached this age. I see Wanda with her hair tied up that shows off her brunette locks, she smiles at me and brings her arm inside mine.

“Guess what?”

“What?” I asked while trying to stop the itch from my feet, making my face scrunched in a weird look.

“I’m getting a laptop soon!” she says joyfully, squealing with her arms tightening around mine. It hurt, but it didn’t matter. I smiled to silently tell Wanda that I was happy for her, truly I was.

“That’s nice,” I responded with a huff because of the cold wind. “I was wondering when I’m going to get mine. I could write better stories there.”

“You’re always writing and reading, don’t you ever get bored?”

“No,” I huffed again. “Not really. It only keeps me away from reality, I get to choose what it feels like to be loved and unloved. I also get to choose whether I’m religious or not.”

I was a good girl but never came to terms with my religion. I believe in God, though. I truly do think he’s capable of all of us sinners and people, it’s just hard to believe when your teacher says something about the world ending. Revelation is not the best chapter in the Bible, it never was. Truly because I think it’s fictional and hypothetical for these things to happen, it has been said for many years. I still don’t see it happening.

Maybe that makes me a sinner of not being afraid of death. I'm not afraid of the underground world once I die, because I know that it’s a place for me and other people who go through my struggle. I’d rather not admit it, it makes me feel ashamed of myself.

When we reached the big wooden doors that lead to the chapel, I gulped. I could feel my throat restraining as if I’m not allowed to talk–which was the case, you aren’t allowed to talk in the chapel. Once it opens, all of us schoolgirls come rushing in quietly. Of course in line. I see my teachers being in the back row while there are a few nuns in the front row, and the section of my class sits in the right row in the middle of the church. So I sat there quietly with Wanda, who had her feet pressed together. A nun was at the altar playing the piano that was ringing in our ears beautifully, and I do find it relaxing. And once everyone was in the chapel, the priestess made her entrance.

Mother Natasha.

I could hear Wanda mumbling, “I wonder if she has a husband. She seems lonely, I mean look at her stance. It screams I want a husband. Do you think she wants one? Or does she have one already?”

I imagine Mother Natasha bringing her husband, who is possibly a priest. And I almost made a grimace look because of that imagination. I’d like to think Natasha is a lonely person who has her personal space and has a wonderful mind. And even if I don’t know her, she radiates that kind of mood. Especially how well-spoken she was, even if they are scriptures from the Bible. I responded to her quietly that I don’t think that she wants a husband, and Wanda just shrugs saying with another mumble: “That’s sad, I don’t want that. I would like a husband someday.”

Why do everyone has to think about marriage? Why can’t we just be happy with ourselves? I do personally think that marriage is a waste and something impulsive to do. There’s nothing forever in everything, even with stupid marriage. The thought of the word forever cringes me, it makes my body feel tingly with that word. I hate it, I hate it more than my dad.

“Please stand up for our prayer,” says Mother Natasha with a broad voice, everyone else closing their eyes. I had to do it as well but urged them to open again just to see her, to take a glimpse of her. After a long prayer, the service began. I was holding onto my Bible while still listening to her preaching, appreciating how there was so much power in her voice. I wish I could easily do that, to attract people with just my voice.

“For rebellion is as the sin of divination,

And insubordination is as iniquity and idolatry.

Because you have rejected the word of the Lord,

He has also rejected you from being king.”

When she says those words with such vulnerability, we make eye contact. It was brief, yet it meant so much to me. She looked at me. And I could see her creating a small smile that was so fainted, you could barely see it. My body tensed from the way her eyes were looking at mine, it was like I couldn’t breathe. My heart stopped. How utterly infatuated I was with something sinful that I cannot despair. She was a woman, a grown woman. I was a kid, practically a teenager still. Yet, she still looked at me without meaning.

After the service, we were asked to go to the confession room as always. It had to take a while since there were a lot of students and it took at least a minute or two. I was waiting in line with my fingers playing on the edge of my skirt. I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering about the possibilities that could happen later once I confess. But mostly, I thought about how Mother Natasha looked at me and almost gave me a smile. Was it sinful enough for me to want it from her?

“Y/N Rogers,” a nun calls me. I lifted my head up in response. “You’re up next. Don’t take too long.”

I mumbled a thank you for being polite and walked inside the small booth, closing the curtains. It felt intimate to be here again, to sit on the warm wooden chair and be faced by a divider. I start by saying with a light voice: “Bless me, Mother, for I have sinned. My last confession was about watching sexual films that my friend and I did, and I have thoughts about it. And for my next confession, I began to research abortion so that I could be prepared for the future. I know that it’s sinful to kill a child inside of your womb, but I was very curious. I will never do something like that again. And for my last one, I’m having an infatuation with someone that they do not know me. They barely made eye contact with me, and I’ve been thinking about them for the longest time.”

There was a short pause until the priestess asked, “Is this person a schoolmate?”

I began to shake my head. Lies, full of lies. I can’t confess something like this, it would be sinful enough to commit to it. It was just a stupid girl crush, no big deal. Wrong, it was a big deal–especially at this church. Homophobia is the real issue here, and they ban any homosexual acts from this school. So, I lied through my teeth.

“No, Mother. Someone else outside of school.”

“By the authority vested in me by the church, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. May your confession be a reminder of you, child.”

I then realized how feminine the voice of that woman was. It sounded younger, and not some haggard old voice that you’d usually hear from another priestess. No, this sounded different. It sounded exactly just like Mother Natasha, although more feminine. Much lighter. I overthought this conversation until I made my way back to the room, where I had to do my project in English Class. My teacher, Mrs. Davis, is an outstanding poet. I love learning from her, but she seems too old for me to like. I’m assuming she’s in her sixties or maybe late fifties, but who am I to care about her age? I just simply love her class.

I kiss the small cross from my bracelet as I do a little prayer by the window, apologizing for my sins. It’s a daily ritual, a routine where I knelt down peacefully and talked to God. Whether he’s hearing me or not, I could tell how disappointed he was with my simple infatuation with a woman who was in her forties. I was ashamed, but never truly understood with the exception of being homosexual. Perhaps, I was. But I try my best to push it away, and it’s working.

“Forgive me, Lord Father, for I have sinned today. I know I may have disappointed you, and I will do my best to remain pure to your eyes. In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

                                                       —

Saint as she was on the outside, the devil she was on the inside. Natasha has urges, sexual urges. Maybe infatuation too, but more on the concept of fucking someone has been on her mind. Especially to me, specifically to me. How she’s trying to condemn herself whenever I'm around, how to try not to notice my eyes whenever she preaches. She prays to the Lord every day to push the feeling off, to be a saint in front of his eyes. But her urges continue on as if it was hunting for prey.

Mother Natasha is now inside your room with the door being quietly closed. She holds her clerical collar around her neck, trying to hold off the animalistic self to not grow out immediately. She takes in the coolness of my room, hearing the sounds of the clock ticking as well as the lights outside from the window are yellow. She looks at my desk and places a finger down, swiping across from the wood. She brings her finger to her tongue and licks it–rolling her eyes back at her head at the image of me on her desk. It’s getting worse day by day whenever she sees me by the halls of Ruther College, she wants to bite me. To simply take me that no one else could. Mother Natasha takes a few steps to my bed and simply admires my slumbered body, smiling to herself and whispering: How beautiful you are, my little lamb. How effortlessly pretty you are.

She takes out her hand and ran her knuckles against my soft cheek, afraid enough that she’ll wake me out of my slumber. Relief left her body when I didn’t stir awake and continued her actions. Mother Natasha has always admired me, especially whenever the teachers would talk about me to her. They would say how well disciplined I am and how much they love my writings, saying that some of my essays could be poetry. She admires that very deeply and takes it in by heart. Before she could do further action, she goes to my desk and starts opening drawers quietly. Something catches her eyes, it’s underwear that has never been washed.

“Perhaps this is yours, little lamb,” she murmurs to herself while touching the cloth of my old juices, running her thumb against it. She brings it to her nose and smells it, almost making a euphoric sound out of it. She’s insane, utterly and completely insane to me. “How beautiful you are, how much you make me crazy.”

Mother Natasha shoves the sheer pink panties inside of her pockets and maneuvers toward me once more, looking down at my body. She takes the ridge of the blanket and moves it down slowly, her eyes staring at my face to see if there are any reactions. None. So she continued until the blanket was at my feet. I was still asleep, deeply in fact. My eyes were so shut that I didn’t even know she was already behind me, her hands remained untouched from my hips. It was as if she was afraid to even hold my arms, to smell my neck. Forgive me, Father, she thought to herself and takes a good amount of smell of my hair. Strawberries. She began to be obsessed with me at this moment and thought about numerous acts that she could do to my body.

I was awoken with a strong pair of hands on my mouth, making me scream from the top of my lungs. Above me, there was a familiar sight and I will never forget this day when I found out that it was Mother Natasha who was on top of me. I was bewildered, scared, and distraught. But scarier if that made sense. I tried pushing her off with my hands fighting against her, but she was unbelievably strong. Was this happening? Am I dreaming? I was infatuated with her and wanted her to notice me, but never like this.

“Shh, baby, please,” her voice sounded like a beg, her eyes are now kind but I could see much evil that was inside her green eyes. “Please stop, quiet down. Shh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I just want a little taste from you, okay sweetheart? Just a little taste…”

Once she put her hand away, I wanted to scream. But her lips were attached to mine and I simply almost passed out because of it. Is this what it feels like to be kissed by your priestess? Her lips were so soft, so plump. My eyes went from terror to closing them, almost giving in to how well she pressed her lips on mine. My hands went immediately on her chest and pushed her as hard as I could, but her hands were caught on my wrists and her eyes are no longer kind. Her eyes were in pure anger.

“Stay down,” she demanded, hovering over my small body as I tried fighting against her. Tears are starting to form in my eyes, but she didn’t care. She needed to let it all out. “Baby, you’re breaking a poor old woman’s heart. Please stay still. I need to take you, I want you so much.”

I wanted to be freed from her arms, away from her lips. I didn’t want it, I told myself not to want it. It was a sin, an awful sin especially when it comes from another woman. Would’ve it been better if she was a man? Hell, that’s even worse. If I do admit that I like it, I might as well be as sinful as she was. Her hands were absolutely everywhere, she was holding my hips with a grip–making me think there would be a mark as well as her kisses on my neck. She was desperate. So so desperate for me. My face was pressed against the soft pillow as she assaulted my helpless body, smiling faintly to herself when I was only wearing a pink tank top along with white cotton panties.

“How beautiful you are, my little angel…” she whispers to my ears and hooks her fingers to my underwear. My eyes bulged out and I was quick to say something before she could even pull them down.

“I’m not experienced, I don’t–can you please stop what you’re doing to me, Mother?”

She clicks her tongue and juts her lower lip as if feeling bad for me. I started to whimper when she shakes her head a “no”. Meaning, that she doesn’t want to stop. She was about to hurt me and I’m going to like the hell out of it.

“Jus’ be a good girl for me,” Mother Natasha mumbled while kissing the corner of my lips sloppily, trying to pull away from her mouth but she makes a threatening voice: “Stop moving or I will hurt you.”

I quivered from the voice that she erupted, I trembled vigorously when she put her hand on my right breast–her mouth near my ear as she shushes me down, threatening me some more. I wanted her to stop, I wanted her to leave. Because knowing myself, I could lose control once she doesn’t stop. I was inexperienced, I don’t know how to touch a woman or even a man. My lips are no longer a virgin, they have been manipulated by her lips instead of a precious one. But maybe, she is the precious one. Maybe, I was just stubborn to realize that.

“Forgive me, Father,” I whispered to myself while her lips were biting on my neck–hissing myself with a loud whimper and immediately covering my mouth once more. From the corner of my eye, I could see her smirking as she whispers hotly on my face: “There’s no Father here, my little girl. It’s just me, Mother. I will take good care of my precious baby.”

She brings down my panties with a grunt, her other hand still on my mouth as she throws the discarded undergarment onto the ground. Mother Natasha quietly gasps to herself as she sees my unshaven core, her mouth-watering from the sight. I could feel more tears trickling down from my eyes as she touches my cunt, knowing how dry it was.

“I’m going to get you so wet, little lamb… You shall see the ecstasy from the Lord. This is his gift, bringing me to you, kitty.”

With those nicknames, it made me wet. Those words are so foreign in my ears like I’ve never heard of them before. And I never did, so the way her sultry voice speaks to me makes me want her to touch my sensitive parts until I was eaten by her. How much I wanted her and how endlessly I denied it. I continued to cry and so on, letting her dominate my poor body while she was smiling at how much has been revealed to her.

“Recite the whole Hail Mary for me,” she quickly says with a domineering voice, turning me until my back is pressed against the mattress. I looked at her and pulled my tank top upwards with effort. “Detka, stop fighting it. Eventually, your virginity shall be mine. We were meant to be this way, accept it.”

I couldn’t. I thought this was supposed to be different, I thought that she’ll only be my priestess and nothing more than that. But I was so driven by her stamina and her harsh kisses that I’m making myself give in, I must give in to not disappoint her. So I did. She smiled widely once I took off my tank top, throwing it across the room and I was fully naked beneath her. I covered my chest with my arms and shyly said, “I think we’ve had enough, Mother. I–I think we should stop.”

“There’s no stopping here,” she harshly whispers and kisses my lower lip; biting it even, which made me let out a tiny whimper. “Give yourself to me, little lamb. I’ll make sure you’ll be filled with so much love from me, I promise.”

She pushed my legs wide and gasped quietly once she saw the full view of my vagina, I could see her hungry eyes far from here. It’s a sight that I’ll never forget, that I’ll imagine once I go to sleep every night. Her mouth lands on my stomach and makes swirling kisses with her tongue, whispering biblical words that I cannot comprehend due to the fact that I’m a mess. Tears are coming out like a river, as well as my whimpers of mercy. She gives open-mouth heated kisses on my pelvis and finally, her mouth was on my cunt. I arched my back in response, my hand went flying to her hair to grip it; she didn’t mind. To her head, she loved it.

“Please,” I begged and took a deep breath, releasing the tension inside of me. “You have to stop, Mother. I–I can’t do this with you, this is wrong.”

She shakes her head in disagreement with her eyebrows scrunched together, but her eyes are still glued to my clitoris. She whispers with a deeper voice: “This is never wrong for the both of us, my child. It’s meant to be.”

Her tongue squirmed all over my folds as I covered my mouth with my mouth, moaning when her lips were attached to my clitoris. She sucks on it, making a sipping sound while her hands are roaming around my stomach to calm me down. Her mouth was rough, as well as her tongue. Especially her tongue. It’s like she knows what she’s doing with it, and I don’t even understand the techniques that she’s releasing from within her. Mother Natasha continued to eat me from down there as I prayed to the Lord for my sins; quietly.

“You taste divine, my angel…” she praises, her eyes closed as she licks and licks my departed folds, the tip of her tongue prodding against my cunt. “So fucking good, this pussy is so beautiful… Want you to shave it for me.”

I still had my hand gripping her hair tightly and let her assault my cunt with her mouth and her tongue that would draw me from my orgasm. She still had her chapel outfit on, which kind of made my body feel hot. I could still see the clerical collar around her neck, as well as her cross necklace that was made out of wood. But none the less, I was in true heaven while she ate me out like a starved animal.

“I’m so–Lord, Forgive me,” I begged, and I pleaded. My chest starts to heave deeper as my pants become more ragged. “Stop, please stop! It’s too much–I can’t take it…”

“You taste so fucking good,” she groaned against my cunt, admiring my clenching hole. “Look at that, you are nothing but my child. I’m cleansing you away from your sins, I’m the one who listens to them. Don’t be a dumb baby.”

I let out a whining moan at the sound of her voice and how she says them with so much sexual power within her body. I began to whine more once I felt two fingers dipping inside of my vagina, and I immediately lifted myself away.

“No, please. Anything but that. I’m saving myself for the Lord,” I whimpered in pleading but she never wavered. She just kept her arms around my hips as her fingers rubbed my clenching hole. I said with a louder voice, “I said stop, Mother! You’re going to hurt me with your fingers…”

“No, no, baby…” she coos, smiling at me gently while still rubbing smoothly against my hole. She could see how terrified I was, could see how pure I was. And she was grown enough to know that she was taking advantage of me. Should I let her? If I was going, to be honest in the vein of the Lord, yes I wanted her to take my virginity. “Don’t be scared, my child. I’m here to take care of you, remember?”

She thrust two fingers inside my womb without warning, making me scream from my hand. It felt like something broke inside of me, like a river flowing out of my vagina. And to my thoughts, it was my juices. She loved the way I screamed, the way my body squirmed to get away from her. But really, I just wanted more. I needed more even though it stings, it hurts.

“That’s it,” she kisses my clitoris again while pulling out slowly to just pump in again, with more force this time. She could see the way my hips arched and with that, she pushes my lower stomach down with a growl. “Be a good angel, little girl. You’re giving yourself to me, what a saint. Beautiful, just like that… You’re so tight.”

She completely lost her temptation over me, she was a whole new person. And either way, she didn’t care. She wanted me as much as I wanted her–now that I have figured that out. She curls her fingers inside of me with a vigorous moan, latching her mouth once again on my clit while flicking that blud. I start praying once again, asking for forgiveness. Telling to God how much I’ve disobeyed him, it was a sin to commit an affair with a woman0–especially a priestess. I can’t help myself, I’ve fully grown to the feeling of her inside of me. I wanted it, even though on the outside I didn’t.

“Stop,” I whined while I still had my eyes closed, trying to get away from her hungry mouth. But her arms were so strong that you’d think twice if she’s a woman. Maybe she’s just a very strong person. “Please stop, I can’t take it! I’m sorry, forgive me, Father… For I have sinned. Oh god, please–I’m feeling so–”

“You’re loosening up,” she chastises, pulling herself up to smother her wet lips against mine. Our teeth clad together and made a clink, which hurt a bit. But I was so lost from the pain and pleasure that she was giving me, that I couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan. She smiles against my wet lips, almost tasting me. “I broke you in, huh? I love your pretty little body so much…”

She gropes my breasts while thrusting inside of me hard, her fingers curling to hit my special spot. My eyes were shut completely as my mouth gaped open, giving her access to kiss me. I could feel her dark redhead locks against my sweaty skin as she pumps her fingers, feeling my walls not as tight anymore. She loved the feeling of her taking my virginity, the one where she gets to taste a girl first. And god, I have made her crazy. Utterly insane.

I moved my head away from her lips and held onto the headboard steadily, almost coming from an orgasm that I’d never had before. She still has that smile on her face, it was as if she had won some trophy. And then I realized I was that trophy, I was her prize. I could feel the cross dangling onto my face as she whispers harshly, “Good little girls like you make me feel alive, lamb. You have no idea how attracted I am to you, how obsessed I am whenever you pass by. I know your little stares, baby. I’m not dumb enough to not see them.”

Immediately, I was embarrassed. But that feeling was at the corner since there are multiple emotions that I’m going through in just one night. I wanted to hate her, to never see her again. She was a saint that I always praised, but a demonic human being at night. Though, I love her. I love the way she manipulates my body, how she could control it–knowing what she wants. I was just some little girl in her eyes and felt innocent. Maybe those were her type, good little innocent girls like me. Except that, I was at the right age. It would’ve been an awful turn if I was a bit younger.

Our kiss was like an unforbidden fruit, like how Eve finds a beautiful apple from the snake. She was Lucifer, I was Eve. She knew how to manipulate me into some kind of sick action that I really loved, and I hate myself for it. I loathe thinking that this was not destiny because it felt like it did.

“I have so much desire for you,” her breathing becomes hard and I don’t know how to respond to her desperation. Her eyes are closed now, but I felt her forehead against mine as she gropes my right breast with a tight grip. “Forgive me, my child. I just couldn’t help myself any longer… I had to take you.”

Come for me, angel. Come around my fingers.

Those words repeat in my head as her mouth latched now on my nipple, sucking it while still rubbing my clitoris with her thumb–her fingers still inside of me. I felt disgusted. Yet, alive. My cunt was now abused with her power and I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I could still feel my tears falling down from my eyes endlessly, it was as if I am truly ashamed of what is going on. Eventually, I came on her fingers and she had her mouth on me to muffle my screams. She knew what she was doing, she damn knew. I was so lost with the feeling, the mixture of pain and pleasure. My body trembles from her fingers inside of me as my body sweats like crazy.

“That’s it,” she whimpers, kissing my lips harder with her rough mouth. “That’s it, come on… You’re so good to me. You’re such a good little schoolgirl, huh?”

I nodded relentlessly and continued to come around her fingers. Once I am done, she pulls out slowly and brings her lips to her mouth–sucking my come with her eyes closed. I watched the way she lathers her other all over her fingers as if she was starved. And truly, I was too. I panted loudly and laid my head back onto the pillows, sobbing after our sinful encounter.

Her eyes soften and touch my cheek with her knuckles, whispering: “You did good, my child. You did very well. I hope to see you again next week. Will I see you again?”

Why was she acting desperate? She knows she has more power over me, why is she giving me the control to see her? Mother Natasha has the willpower to control me, to make me feel like a bad person. It all felt different, too different. But I gave her a slight nod and tuck myself away from her, still whimpering from the sex that we made. I hear her say: “I made love to you, my child. Don’t act like you don’t like it. You came around my fingers, I hope you get to do that with my cock too someday.”

Someday? And what does she mean by that? Was there something else that I did not know? I felt scared now but wanted her to hold me close. Eventually, I felt the bed dip and watched her as she fixed herself, mumbling a few words that I could barely hear. She turns over her shoulder and gives one last smile before she leaves my room, closing the door quietly.

I cried during that night, feeling ashamed of what I’ve felt or thought. I hate to admit that I loved our sex, I loved the way she took me. But it felt so sinful that I could feel my body as a dirty thing; a dirty creature. I never want to show up in her chapel again, I never want to see those eyes.

But I do, so badly that it aches me.

taglist: @blckwidowsbf @olicity-boo @nickalpatel @sayah13​ @inluvwithfictionalwomen​ @daddynatasha​ @natnutkuy​ @mrs-johansson​ @ageofolsen​ @easybxy​ @natasharomanoffswifeyyy​ @ayyy-lety​ @wandsgurl​ @rt--link​ @pancakefan7529 @korekiyoss​ @natash7456574657646645 @riveravalonsage​ 

[teeztheflag]

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Ateez! Reaction to getting intimidate with you while the members/ a member are/is in the same room

warnings: some of them behave like fu*kboys/di*kheads, argument, disrespect, alcohol, strong language, suggestive, teasing, doing unholy things in a church

a/n: this turned out so dumb I am sorry anon but I finished it lmfao also they’re more like teasing? because I cannot get my head into people fu*king in front of others and not caring about it 😂

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k i m h o n g j o o n g

Hong Joong always has been a mixture of someone who liked to show off his girl and keep her to himself so you weren’t really shocked when he started to kiss down your exposed neck at a gathering at their mansion that night.

First you were really flustered and giggled but the sexual tension quickly arose when he took a good hold on your hips from behind breathing hotly down your cleavage.

You gulped unsure of what to think about the situation and gasped when you saw Park Seong Hwa standing at the other end of the room a glass of wine in his hand and a mischievous smile on his face.

Was he watching you?

You frowned trying to stop Hong Joong in his motions but quickly realized that he already saw the other one seemingly enjoying the scene.

You turned around and hurt took over your features.

„I am not a cheep whore Kim Hong Joong. Whatever you and Seong Hwa have going on don’t ever dare to involve me in it again.“ You hissed out trying to push away the tears and stormed away.

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p a r k s e o n g h w a

Seong Hwa‘s birthday was known to be the biggest event of the year in his hometown. As the bachelor always threw the most outrageous and glamorous parties it was his friends this time that wanted to prepare something special.

They booked you: a student with little to no money but good dancing skills on the pool.

You started your show and even if Seong Hwa first wasn’t into the idea at all while he sat down in front of you on a single chair the moment he layed his eyes on you his heart skipped a beat.

You personated everything the young rich loved; you were so beautiful he got flustered and tried to hide his reddening cheeks.

The dress on you was way too short and the show went on with the cheering from his guests that the young bachelor zoned out completely by now. He felt himself shuddering and becoming nervous when the young lady started walking to him with confident steps but a deer like gaze.

You sat down on his lap your arms casually wrapping around his shoulders and he cursed lowly at the sweet scent you gave off when you leaned down to whisper in his ear.

„Happy Birthday, Mr. Park.“

You were about to dance on him when he stopped you in your tracks and you were panicking if you did something wrong. Seong Hwa looked you into the eyes and clenched his teeth.

„I swear you don’t know what you’re doing to me right now so stop.“

„Y - you’re joking, right?“ But the desperate look in his eyes told he was more than serious about this.

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j e o n g y u n h o

You just couldn’t look away. It was always something you wondered about. And not only you... definitely your whole circle of friends.

You really didn’t want to look but your gaze just seemed to magically find its way down to Yun Ho‘s crotch where - wait a sec. Is it what you think it is?

Gosh, you had a drink too much. When you looked up you weren’t really sure anymore if this was the reality but on the other side of the room on the couch Yun Ho caught your gaze and suppressed a smirk.

Since it was embarrassing you quickly averted your gaze back to the movie hoping the two of you would just forget about the incident.

„Another round? I am getting shots!“ The others agreed and you got slightly nervous when Yun Ho came back with a tablet and handed everyone a shot.

„I am suggesting brother shots because we’ve all been so busy lately!“

„Why do you sat down next to (y/n), then? Very calculated don’t you think.“ Jong Ho eyed the latter suspiciously and Yun Ho sent him a kiss.

You were so dizzy that you were thinking about what brother shots were again when Yun Ho already linked your arms and drank. Right in the moment you remembered he already placed a cherry tasting kiss on your lips.

You couldn’t hold yourself back to lick the remaining droplets off while Yun Ho watched you eagerly.

„How does it taste?“

You frowned at him still progressing what a wasted night this was. Suddenly Yun Ho wipes away the last droplets off with his thumb and brushes it also over you bottom lip.

Your mouth opens but no words seem to leave your lips while he smiles mischievously.

„G-good... too good.“

„Ah, you want another one?“

You debate and your gaze drifts to the others around you but they seem much too intoxicated themselves to notice.

„Yes.“ Yun Ho chuckles and you close your eyes waiting for his lips to finally touch yours again. When a cold material instead meets you your eyes shoot open and you see Yun Ho laughing at you.

„I meant another shot, (y/n).“ He winks and you roll your eyes pouting at him for getting the wrong ideas...

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k a n g y e o s a n g

Yeo Sang‘s family and yours were good friends since ages and it was a must to attend the sunday‘s service together.

Like usually your families sat next to eachother again but Yeo Sang tended to sit next to his friends in the last row this day. Just when you went up to get to your parents a voice stopped you.

„(y/n)! Come sit with us!“ You turn around and see San smiling at you and also the other boys were together. You just grew close to them a while ago and you didn’t see a reason to say no.

When you realized Woo Young made place for you between him and Yeo Sang your mood quickly changed. You frowned at the boy exactly knowing what you told him a month ago when you were drunk - that you had a crush on Yeo Sang since forever...

Problem was... Yeo Sang probably has been asexual or simply ignoring you for his own sake. As you expected he didn’t even greet you but just relaxed further into the bench.

The service started and the boys next to you seemed to fall asleep one after another while the priest was really into his game. You also weren’t the biggest fan of it but you knew how to be respectful.

It was time to pray with your eyes closed when you suddenly tense up. Your eyes immediately shoot open and your gazes drifts to the site where Yeo Sang is watching you intensely.

You are frozen and not able to move a muscle while he digs his hand further into your tigh. You quickly look around to see if someone notices but stop when you hear a giggle coming from right next to you from Woo Young.

Yeo Sang starts to draw slow circles into your skin and you recognize how warm his hand feels against your exposed flesh. You don’t know how to put it but your body tells you to invite his touches rather than scold him and retrieve his hand...

When he leans down you flinch and close your eyes uttering the last words of the prayer hoping to not die at how hard your heart beats against your ribcage.

His breath tickles the hairs on your neck and you can smell a strong perfume coming from him before he whispers.

„(y/n)... you’re a little whore squirming like this in a church...“

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s o n g m i n g i

„Well, a bet is a bet.“

„Min Gi, you aren’t serious about this? I thought it was a joke! If I knew you would be a dick I wouldn’t have obliged!“

Min Gi let’s out a laugh and drags you back inside the karaoke room where your friends were partying like there’s no tomorrow.

He sat you down next to him and brought his arm over your shoulder to keep you close so you couldn’t escape. He side glanced your form and smiles to see your arms crossed and a pout adorning your face.

„Cute.“

„What?“

„Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the view.“ His eyes turn into crescents while he grins at you.

Times flies by and you know your boyfriend good enough that he wouldn’t let his price slip. So when your food arrives everyone gasps when you start to feed Min Gi like he was the king of South Korea.

„Damn, what the heck are you two doing?“

Some couldn’t control their laughter and you feel like sinking into a hole of embarrassment when Min Gi explains that you just realized how he should be really treated.

Everyone knew you were sassy and didn’t take any shit and so it has also been with your boyfriend. Min Gi loved to tease you endlessly and he knew that having you serve him in front of your friends was something you wouldn’t like. He took it as a revenge for you making him jelous the last week and a dangerous glint appears in his eyes thinking back to the evening.

„Mh, my love. I have some sauce on my chin...“

„So what?“

„Lick it away.“

„You are unbelievable!“

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c h o i s a n

San always has been an affectionate person that needed a lot of attention from his s/o. You on the other hand liked to stick to simple holding hands in public and a little peck here or there but nothing too exaggerated.

San knew you were shy but sometimes he couldn’t hold himself back to tease you openly so people would see who you belong to. No, that wasn’t the only reason he liked to show off he was just fully engulfed in your form and needed to touch whenever he could.

This caused you scolding him from time to time when he did inappropriate things in the different areas.

For example in a car. With Jong Ho and Seong Hwa in the back. You were standing at a red light when you felt San‘s hand sneaking up your thigh leaving a tickling sensation in the process. The boys were tired but you were sure they were still awake in the back.

Quickly you try to retrieve San‘s hand but his grip just strengthens and the nerve this boy has! When you glance to him he’s just sheepishly looking outside acting like he does nothing. He always messed with you inside his car but this time it was worse because there were your friends in the back!

„San!“ You whisper-yell to your boyfriend who looks up to you for a second before leaning in to your side.

„What?“

„Stop!“

„No!“ Then he leans back and when you try to forcefully pull his hand back you’re suddenly with a clap to your thigh leaving you flushed and aroused because of the mixture of pain and pleasure.

„Mh... are we already there?“ Oh, Jong Ho probably actually fell asleep.

„Five minutes.“ San ignites with a big smile to the back.

After you drop off the two San suddenly locks the car and leans over so his arm is around the lean of your seat. Out of reflex you lean back clearly intimidated by his posture but also confused what he wanted to do now.

„Did it hurt, baby?“

You shyly nod and your gaze falls to your lap where you’re playing with the hem of your skirt. San’s tongue pokes out to wetten his bottom lip and a low chuckle leaves him.

„Can you whine like that for me again when we’re home?“

„San!“

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j u n g w o o y o u n g

Jung Woo Young meant danger; that’s what everyone knew. You couldn’t deny the fact that he intrigued you beyond everything that was appropriate... meaning you fantasized about the boy way too much. Everything about him was perfect.

If you just could have a taste of his lips once in your life... It was just a little joke and daydreaming for you; nothing serious. And maybe his image also helped you to relieve some stress in lonely nights but really nothing more.

Although you didn’t expect this houseparty to be too spectacular things actually spiced up when you saw the boy and his friends entering the party. You suddenly felt more excited and thanked god you decided to join your friends this night.

You saw Woo Young quickly being accompanied by a girl and immediately your face fell. Dammit... Just stop dreaming of somebody you will never have!

„(y/n)?“ Oh, yes! You were currently playing beerpong and it was your turn. Well, if you didn’t get the boy you would at least just win this game. And you did. With a big crowd around you the other girls cheering for you because you won against the best of the boys in this game.

With a big grin and clearly tipsy by now you dragged your friend inside to dance accompanied by the others. You swayed your hips, laughed and had a lot of fun. Until you felt someone’s hand sneaking around your waist to level your rhythm up to his.

You turned around and saw no other than the Jung Woo Young eyefucking you shameless.

„What are you doing?“

„Getting revenge for my friend; but in my own way.“

You look over to Yeo Sang the one you just managed to destroy and see him winking at you from afar.

Your eyes quickly drift to Woo Young’s chest and you mumble to yourself. „This would be more like a prize...“

Woo Young is able to hear your words because instead of you he didn’t touch a single bottle tonight and because of that he decides to take things a little further. Suddenly the boy leads you out of the crowd upstairs to a secluded room where he’s quickly placing hungry kisses over your exposed collarbone.

You’re feeling like paralyzed both of the boldness and the pleasure.

Your eyes open wide when you hear a chuckle coming from the other side of the room and you frown seeing Yeo Sang sitting casually in a chair enjoying the show.

„Like you said. Your prize and our revenge.“

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c h o i j o n g h o

Another one of those boring business nights with Jong Ho and you were quickly deciding to roam around the big mansion you landed in this time.

Gosh, how rich was his boss again? This house looked more like a palace to you and made you again wonder; what the hell was Jong Ho even working?

You turned corner after corner and whined knowing you got lost.

„Dammit... I am so stupid!“

„Here you are. Mrs. Choi we‘re missing your presence!“

Choi san comes out of the dark with a smile on his face and a hand tugged into his pockets. He looked ravishing but you guessed he already knew that by the way he always held himself. For you, San was a friend. A good one because he helped you and your husband in more than one way.

You puffed out some air and rolled your eyes. „What could be so interesting that you would need me?“

„Tsk, always so sassy... Jong Ho is currently leading in the game you should join us.“

„How much?“

„That’s for you to find out.“ A chuckle leaves you and with quick steps you get to San and link arms so he can guide you back.

The room was dark and huge with a single poker table in the middle where only three very young and dangerously looking gentlemen were still deeply engulfed into the game. Woo Young who stands next to the table winks at you and you try to hide the uneasiness he’s causing you every time with his little flirt attempts.

Hong Joong and Yun Ho still played with Jong Ho and being the bold human you were you emerged the table with confident steps and sat down on Jong Ho‘s lap to make your presence very clear to everyone.

Jong Ho immediately maneuvered his hands so he could sneak one of his arms around your waist and adjust your position; what the hell...

You were practically sitting widespread on his right thigh now but Jong Ho only seemed to be interested in the game.

They played silently while the others were casually getting drinks from the bar. You on the other hand were busy in understanding the game and Jong Ho‘s cards. You shuffled your body and position from time to time trying to not put too much pressure on your husband‘s thigh.

After a while with a lot of struggling Jong Ho groaned out annoyed and gave your hip a squeeze only to push you down on his thigh stronger than before.

„Fuck!“

All eyes were on you immediately and you know you shouldn’t have teased him so much...

„You want to distract me or put on a show for my friends?“

You were flustered beyond everything and just looked down to hide the embarrassment. „Neither.“

„Neither what?“

„Neither, sir.“ It was only a whisper but everyone clearly heard the word coming out of your mouth.

Jong Ho smiles triumphantly at the others knowing he not only won the game when he shows his cards but also that he would teach you a lesson in a few minutes.

[arizonaconservativegal]

Volunteer anon again. Thanks for answering my previous question! Here's a follow up. Ngl I'm usually hesitant to attend any GOP gatherings in my area because I feel like the attendees would mostly be middle-aged men and I would be the only 20-something woman there. I would feel weird and uncomfortable. But maybe I'm making incorrect assumptions?

Oh yeah I feel that. I'm 27 and I've been going to these things since I was 19. I have on more than one occasion walked into a room and realized I was the only person there without grey hair. It doesn't happen everywhere you go, but it definitely happens. My advice would be to go to several different types of groups and events and see what you think. Every group is going to get a different mix of people and even if you get a perfect age/gender mix, sometimes they'll be a bit too church-y or too libertarian or too Trump-y or too whatever. It's okay to shop around a bit and find something with a good vibe that works for you.

A monthly club or local party meeting is likely to be mostly middle age to retirement age folks, both men and women, probably in a roughly equal mix. They will probably be beside themselves with excitement to see someone under the age of 40 and there is a solid chance you will become their unofficial young person translator/mascot. Prepare to get adopted by a dozen new aunts/uncles/grandparents and you may be asked to help them fix their website or social media.

You might want to see if your area has an active Young Republicans club. Technically that's anyone under 40 so it's not super young, but young enough to do happy hour instead of early bird dinner specials. Or you could try the local Republican Women's chapter, but those will be more soccer moms and grandmothers, and not a lot of younger folks. If you're in your early twenties or in college, you can check out the College Republicans or Turning Point chapters near you, which is where the kiddos concentrate themselves. Personally I find them to be exhausting because although I'm only 27, I am an old lady already. They're good kids, they're just... a lot.

If you get involved in a campaign, you'll pretty much just see retirement age folks and college age kids as volunteers. Everyone in the middle is busy with jobs and families so they don't show up to volunteer much. You might see them for a few big events, but otherwise your regulars are going to be grandma and the intern pool.

I do have to add a caveat that the demographics of the party and of what I call the "activist class" are shifting a lot right now. We are getting more young people, more soccer moms, more hispanic people, and a lot more people who are brand new to politics. The more Trump-y a candidate is, the more you will see this shift on their campaign. Love him or hate him, that MAGA/America First stuff did wonders for our outreach.

The other thing you can do is start your own club. I won't lie, that's not super easy to do, but if you talk to your local party about what you're trying to create, they can probably help. Turning Point reps may also be willing to help with this if you don't mind falling under their banner.

Also, if you are at all interested in going the career route with all this, you'll find a very different group of people. Consultants and staffers tend to be anywhere from 25 to mid 50s. They are mostly men and the women in that group tend to be on the younger side. They're also a very different vibe. It's a business for us, not a hobby, and while we enjoy what we do and believe in our causes and candidates, there's a little more pragmatism, sometimes with a cynical edge to it. We're less concerned with which particular brand of conservative you are and more focused on just getting the job done.