#the sex bombshell of the neighborhood at night

[tea-and-secrets]

before I even begin: fuck TERFS + this stuff OBVIOUSLY also affects trans women A LOT + this is not an excuse to criminalize sex work + shut the fuck up and get away from me with your bioessentialist bullshit

I am SO SICK of being a woman. I'm so sick of my body being inherently sexual in nature. It's so fucking exhausting. I want to be a girl but the idea of girl is incessantly sexualized. I want to wear cute clothes but the cute clothes expose parts of me I don't want to expose, and the modest clothes are just grey fucking sacks. EVERYTHING that's "feminine" is just about BEING HOT. I DON'T WANT TO BE HOT!!! I WANT TO BE FUCKING DISGUSTING!!! I WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME AND ASSUME IM LIKE A FUCKING BARBIE DOWN THERE!!!!! IM SO TIRED OF MY ONLY OPTIONS BEING SEXY WOMAN OR ANDROGYNOUS OR BUTCH. IM NOT EITHER OF THOSE THINGS IM JUST A GIRL. I DONT WANT TO SHAVE OR DO MY MAKEUP OR WORK OUT OR HAVE SEX OR YEARN OR FUCKING ANYTHING I WANT TO DRESS UP LIKE A FAIRY PRINCESS AND WALK AROUND MY NEIGHBORHOOD AT NIGHT. IM SO SICK OF NOT BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY EVER. I FUCKING HATE WHEN I TELL A MAN LITERALLY ANYTHING ABOUT MYSELF, AN OPINION THAT HE CANNOT CHANGE, AND HE IMMEDIATELY STARTS TELLING ME WHY I *ACTUALLY* DONT HAVE THAT OPINION. ITS FUCKING EXHAUSTING. JUST LET ME FUCKING BE.

I feel like ALL of my options for who I can be are fucking tropes. Like I have to choose between "clean girl" and "hello kitty girl" and "manic pixie dream girl" or "deftones girl" "goth gf" "muscle mommy". I wish people would just shut the fuck up about women.

no matter what I do, whatever it is will end up with me either being fucking despised for being "aggressive" "rude" "unfeminine" or obsessed with for being a total bombshell babe. There's no neutral option. I can't just be. I can't just walk down the street without getting catcalled unless I dress how I do now, in oversized bland clothes, because I'm so scared of people WATCHING me and LOOKING at me if I wear anything nicer than that. I'm so tired of it all.

Why is the idea of being a girl so fucking complicated now? Why can't I just be a girl, and that's just the end of the story, just a girl, and I don't have to groom myself or be nice or pretty or fucking anything. I don't get why more cis women don't relate to trans women's struggle to pass in a society that DEMANDS all women to look and act a certain way, and they have to perform that to an even higher extent to even be MARGINALLY accepted.

Why does it fucking matter how I look. Why does that have any fucking basis on my gender. Why should you even fucking care about my sexuality. WHY DOES IT MATTER. WHY DOES IT MATTER WHY DOES IT MATTER WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU WHO IM FUCKING?????!??????????

I WANT EVERYBODY TO FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!

.

[helenapsent]

Okay, after reviewing "The Mandela Catalogue" again, I realized that my theory with Gabriel turning Jesus into an alternate has a point.

I am also in awe of the fact that. Gabriel is Lucifer. Like, I had this clear fucking story up until the last episode that Gabriel is Lucifer's helper, they're "messing around," going ahead of God, everything's okay, and then I watch the last episode and I'm like, "Lol, the Archangel Gabriel is actually Lucifer, but he still has his face on."

And I'm just like, "Oh, shit, are you serious?? Although... basically nothing's changed except for the point that Gabriel has become an imbo specifically."

So... in connection with this I can just briefly voice my thought:

God and his angels were living in heaven, hanging out, and then the Archangel Gabriel started noticing that God was acting weird. Does everyone know the phrase: "God works in mysterious ways"? Well, that's exactly what it is.

And so for all the time Gabriel was watching what God was doing with the weather and the execution of people (we all remember the 10 executions of Egypt), and to put it mildly, he did not like it very much, saying that God is supposed to be so righteous, instill authority in all living things, in general he's kind of a big heavenly boss, but only the ways of it all are kind of weird, or rather, he'll rage if he doesn't like something, and kind of vent his anger on people and the environment well. ...unethical or something?

So, Gabriel and God had a pretty good quarrel on this subject, in connection with which God took offense at him, so he shanked the Archangel with a thunderbolt and he poured a stone down (his wings fried, it hurt).

Once on the ground, Gabriel somehow came to his senses. And he held such a grudge against God that he wanted to take revenge - to exterminate all his creations, people in particular, so that he would correct his actions and, if possible, bring him back to heaven. While the Fallen Angel was contemplating his plan, he wandered into the depths of Hell.

Satan took him in, gave him his own place in the ninth circle, and made him look more or less presentable. Gabriel changed his name to Lucifer, and made a nice home in the Abyss of Hell.

After a while he decides to tell Satan about his revenge on God, and at the same time suggests that he thus glorify his power. The Lord of Darkness is very happy with this arrangement, and so he gives him the go-ahead.

And so it began: Gabriel began to conjure up similar creatures, called alternatives. He shoved all of them down to the ground and watched as one by one they died, suffering from headaches and depression, and then killed themselves, and his "offspring" received a human shell as a reward for their work.

God saw all this, freaked out, and decided to warn Noah about the coming flood, which should wash away all these demons and monsters that crawled to the surface from under the core of the earth. "Save yourself and your family, and take the animals with you-they are my most precious possessions," God uttered.

However, Gabriel (Lucifer), sensed the "warning bell" and quickly took care of the matter. He gave Noah one of the alternatives so that their race could continue to exist. Noah obeys and takes the alternate.

Again, after several centuries of joy and triumph, God again decides to get rid of the Alternatives, and sends his son Jesus Christ to earth, assuming that he is to save the entire human race. However, our dear Gabriel still gets ahead of the curve and steals Jesus, posing as the real savior. Everyone believes him without question.

So Gabriel wins and God is stuck on the loser's bench.

All that remains is to figure out what to do with Jesus. So Gabriel had an idea: to make some kind of initial view of the alternatives, so to speak, the "first stage" of their development. Gabriel turns Jesus into an alternative. The result was quite good: an unsightly baby with a distorted baby face, whose name was given to "The Malefactor.

To the glory of Satan!

That's it for me guys, I've squeezed everything I can out of my brain.

[iwouldvebeendrake01]

WOMEN IN FILM

Agnieszka Holland - director, The Secret Garden (1993) Alice Waddington - director, Paradise Hills (2019) Amma Asante - director, Belle (2013), A United Kingdom (2016) Amy Heckerling - director, Look Who’s Talking (1989), Clueless (1995) Angela Workman - writer, The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017), Longbourn (?) Angelina Jolie - director, By the Sea (2015), First They Killed My Father (2017) Anna Boden - director, It’s Kind of a Funny Story (2010), Captain Marvel (2019) Anna Kendrick - exec. producer, Dummy (?), Love Life (?) Anne Fletcher - director, The Proposal (2009), Dumplin’ (2018) Ava DuVernay - director, Selma (2014), A Wrinkle in Time (2018) Barbara Streisand - director, Yentl (1983) Brenda Chapman - director, The Prince of Egypt (1998), Brave (2012) Brie Larson - director, Unicorn Store (2017) Bryce Dallas Howard - director, Dads (2019), The Mandalorian Ch. 4 (2019) Carey Mulligan - exec. producer, Promising Young Woman (2020) Cate Shortland - director, Lore (2012), Black Widow (2020) Cathy Yan - director, Birds of Prey (2020) Céline Sciamma - director, Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) Chanya Button - director, Vita & Virginia (2018) Charlize Theron - producer, Monster (2003), Atomic Blonde (2017), Bombshell (2019) Chloé Zhao - director, Eternals (2020) Claire McCarthy - director, Ophelia (2018), The Luminaries (?) Debbie Allen - director, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (1990), The Twilight Zone (2003) Deborah Chow - director, The Mandalorian Ch. 3, Ch. 7 (2019), Obi-Wan Series (?) Debra Granik - director, Winter’s Bone (2010) Desiree Akhavan - director, Appropriate Behavior (2014) Diablo Cody - writer, Jennifer’s Body (2009), Young Adult (2011) Dorota Kobiela - director, Loving Vincent (2017) Drew Barrymore - director, Whip It (2009) Elizabeth Banks - director, Pitch Perfect 2 (2015), Charlie’s Angels (2019) Elizabeth Olsen - exec. producer, Sorry for Your Loss (2018–) Emma Stone - exec. producer, Maniac (2018) Emma Thompson - writer, Sense and Sensibility (1995), Last Christmas (2019) Gal Gadot - producer, Wonder Woman 1984 (2020), Hedy Lamarr Mini-Series (2020–) Gillian Armstrong - director, Little Women (1994), Death Defying Acts (2007) Greta Gerwig - director, Lady Bird (2017), Little Women (2019), Barbie (?) Gurinder Chadha - director, Bride & Prejudice (2004), Blinded by the Light (2019) Jamie Babbit - director, Supergirl (2016), The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (2018) Jane Goldman - writer, Stardust (2007), X-Men: First Class (2011), Rebecca (2020) Jennifer Lee - writer, Frozen (2013), Zootopia (2016), Frozen II (2019) Jerusha Hess - writer, Napoleon Dynamite (2004), Nacho Libre (2006), Austenland (2013) Jessica Chastain - producer, I Am Jane Doe (2017), 355 (2021) Joanna Hogg - director, Unrelated (2007), Archipelago (2010), The Souvenir (2019) Josie Rourke - director, Coriolanus (2014), Mary Queen of Scots (2018) Julia Ducournau - director, Raw (2016), Titane (2020) Julie Taymor - director, Frida (2002), Across the Universe (2007), The Glorias (2020) Karen Gillan - director, The Party’s Just Beginning (2018) Kari Skogland - director, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2020–) Karyn Kusama - director, Æon Flux (2005), Jennifer’s Body (2009), Destroyer (2018) Kate Mara - producer, My Days of Mercy (2017), A Teacher (2020–) Kathryn Bigelow - director, The Hurt Locker (2008), Zero Dark Thirty (2012) Katt Shea - director, Poison Ivy (1992), Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase (2019) Kay Cannon - writer, New Girl (2012-2013), Girlboss (2017), Cinderella (2021) Kelly Fremon Craig - director, The Edge of Seventeen (2016)  Lana & Lilly Wachowski - directors, The Matrix (1999), Cloud Atlas (2012) Laura Lau - director, Silent House (2011) Leslye Headland - writer, Terriers (2010), Bachelorette (2012), Russian Doll (2019–) Lindsey Beer - writer, Chaos Walking (2020), The Kingkiller Chronicle (?), Silver Sable (?) Lois Weber - director, A Heroine of ‘76 (1911), The Angel of Broadway (1927) Lone Scherfig - director, An Education (2009), One Day (2011), Their Finest (2016) Lorene Scafaria - director, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012), Hustlers (2019) Lucia Aniello - director, Rough Night (2017), Broad City (2014-2019) Lupita Nyong’o - producer, In My Genes (2009), Americanah (2020–) Lynne Ramsay - director, We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) Madonna - director, Filth and Wisdom (2008), W.E. (2011) Margot Robbie - exec. producer, Gotham City Sirens (?), Modern Shakespeare Project (?) Marielle Heller - director, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019) Marjane Satrapi - director, Persepolis (2007), The Voices (2014), Radioactive (2020) Marti Noxon - writer, Fright Night (2011), To the Bone (2017), Sharp Objects (2018) Mary Harron - director, American Psycho (2000), Alias Grace (2017), Charlie Says (2018) Mary Pickford - writer, The Awakening (1909), Rags (1915), A Girl of Yesterday (1915) Michelle Williams - exec. producer, Blue Valentine (2010), Fosse/Verdon (2019) Millie Bobby Brown - producer, Enola Holmes (2020) Mimi Leder - director, Deep Impact (1998), On the Basis of Sex (2018) Nancy Meyers - director, The Parent Trap (1998), The Holiday (2006), The Intern (2015) Naomi Watts - exec. producer, Gypsy (2017), The Wolf Hour (2019) Natalie Dormer - writer, In Darkness (2018) Natalie Portman - director, A Tale of Love and Darkness (2015) Nia DaCosta - director, Little Woods (2018), Candyman (2020) Niki Caro - director, Whale Rider (2002), The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017), Mulan (2020) Noomi Rapace - producer, Stockholm (2018), Close (2019), Hearts of Stone (2020) Nora Ephron - director, Sleepless in Seattle (1993), You’ve Got Mail (1998), Julie & Julia (2009) Octavia Spencer - exec. producer, Green Book (2018), Self Made (2020–) Olivia Wilde - director, Booksmart (2019) Patty Jenkins - director, Monster (2003), Wonder Woman (2017), I Am the Night (2019) Penélope Cruz - producer, Twice Born (2012), Ma ma (2015), The Queen of Spain (2016) Penny Marshall - director, Big (1988), A League of Their Own (1992) Phoebe Waller-Bridge - writer, Fleabag (2016-2019), No Time to Die (2020) Quiara Alegría Hudes - writer, In the Heights (2020), Vivo (2021) Rachel Weisz - producer, The Shape of Things (2003), Radiator (2014), Disobedience (2017) Rashida Jones - writer, Black Mirror: Nosedive (2016), Toy Story 4 (2019) Rebecca Hall - director, Passing (2020) Reese Witherspoon - producer, Penelope (2006), Gone Girl (2014), Tinker Bell (?) Robin Wright - director, House of Cards (2014-2018), Land (?) Ruth Wilson - exec. producer, Mrs. Wilson (2018) Sally Potter - director, Orlando (1992), The Man Who Cried (2000) Salma Hayek - producer, Frida (2002), Ugly Betty (2006-2010), The Prophet (2014) Sandra Bullock - exec. producer, George Lopez (2002-2007), The Proposal (2009) Scarlett Johansson - exec. producer, The Whale (2011), Black Widow (2020) Sofia Coppola - director, Lost in Translation (2003), The Beguiled (2017) Susanna White - director, Bleak House (2005), Jane Eyre (2006), Woman Walks Ahead (2017) Susanne Bier - director, Serena (2014), The Night Manager (2016), Bird Box (2018) Tessa Thompson - exec. producer, Little Woods (2018), Sylvie’s Love (2020) Thea Sharrock - director, The Hollow Crown: Henry V (2012), Me Before You (2016) Thea von Harbou - writer, Destiny (1921), Metropolis (1927), Woman in the Moon (1929) Tina Fey - writer, Mean Girls (2004), Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (2015-2019) Valerie Faris - director, Battle of the Sexes (2017), Living with Yourself (2019–) Vanessa Taylor - writer, Divergent (2014), The Shape of Water (2017) Zoe Kazan - writer, Ruby Sparks (2012), Wildlife (2018) Zoe Lister-Jones - director, Band Aid (2017), Woman Up (?), The Craft (?) Zoe Saldana - producer, Rosemary’s Baby (2014), The Honor List (2018), From Scratch (2020–) Zooey Deschanel - exec. producer, New Girl (2011-2018)

[ganglcnds]

⋆ ◦ ° ☾ amber heard + cisfem + she/her — have you seen clara swan? they sure have been hanging out at king’s steakhouse a lot recently. they are a twenty-eight year old known as the bombshell, and they currently work for the cobras as a council member, which they’ve been doing for five years. a bicurious libra, they are charming + tactful, as well as superficial + unpredictable. black stilettos, champagne bottles and blood red lipstick. ×

tw: mentions of depression & anorexia.

she grew up just outside of valdez in a rich neighborhood; a real riches to rags anti-fairytale. the swan’s were new money; her father was a lawyer, and her mother was a housewife. her dad had cobra custom which boosted his monthly paycheque tenfold. 

clara was raised to be charming but never sincere. her opinions were kept to herself. she was a people pleaser as a child; always keen to create smiles rather than throw a tantrum. more of a doll than a child.

she acquired a taste for the finer things in life that only the greenest of dollar bills could command. diamonds, designer bags, the finest cuts of steak, the most extravagant champagne.

high school was a tidal wave. captain of the cheerleading squad; clara was the definition of an all-american girl. the american dream. until she fell pregnant after a drunken one night stand. the bedroom in the corner of a house party. you can blame the lack of a sex education system for a lack of information regarding contraceptives.

at age seventeen, she was a mother for about twenty minutes. they took the baby from her arms in the hospital with a coldness. her parents made sure that everyone thought she was on a skiing vacation. no one knew about the child that clara longed after and cried for. not even the baby’s father.

life continued as normal for clara. her mental health began to deteriorate. postpartum depression became constant depression that hung over her head - even ten years afterwards. 

she studied business at college and came out as valedictorian. maybe it was because she was screwing her professor.

clara’s father was caught by the police in colorado for working alongside criminals. he never snitched on the gang, but the courts sentenced him to twenty-five years in prison. her mother turned to alcohol to cope.

she moved to valdez when she was twenty-two. she started up a business; a cocktail bar with only the fanciest liquors; adjacent to her favourite dining spot: king’s steakhouse.

it wasn’t long until she found the gang that her father had served; the cobras. in honour of her father’s hard work, they offered her business protection and a place on the council which clara snatched up. in a town like valdez, loyalty was rare and safety was unheard of.

you’ll see her smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, held daintily between perfectly manicured fingers. she hopes you’d never see her collecting her antidepressants or receiving help for her anorexia.

i’m still developing her recent storyline; but i need your angel’s help to do that! to get the plots flowing, here’s a few wanted connections;

on and off relationship. no matter how many times they call things quits, clara and your muse keep falling back into bed with each other or calling each other after a few too many drinks. call it fate or an ugly addiction. bonus points if they’re a savage, but a civilian or cobra is perfect too!!

past/current hook-up’s, one night stands, ex’s of any description... honestly, clara is a messy woman behind a perfect facade.

friends that brunch together. bottomless mimosas, gossip and girl power tbh...

regular clients who come by her cocktail bar. probably rich and classy.

frenemies and rivalries. clara sees herself as queen and anyone that threatens that... is not on her good side.

someone much younger that has a crush on clara???

someone much older that clara has her eye on??

good influences & (more importantly) bad influences.

a ride or die. a confidant. someone that clara trusts with her life. they know everything about the blonde and would take a bullet for her, and vice versa.

anything you can think of!

[dirtyretrowrites]

The Drive-In 🌙

Fandom: Mamamoo Pairing: Wheesa Rating: T Word Count: 569 Tags: Greasers & Socs AU, forbidden love, fluff, implied sexual themes, drabble Summary: Wheein is the cookie-cutter good girl. Hyejin drives her daddy’s flashy red 1954 Corvette. 

Wheein’s lips tasted like her mint lip balm, and they tingled Hyejin’s lips as the two made out in the backseat of Hyejin’s daddy’s 1954 cherry red Corvette. At the drive-in for a late night movie, the star speckled sky was the only witness to their forbidden love.

Hyejin was the bad girl heartbreaker type, that confident girl society labeled as rude, that femme fatale with curves to kill and sass for anyone who dared cross her. Wheein was the good girl type who baked apple pie and went to church on Sundays, she wore white gloves that matched her conservative pink and white dress, and she never talked back to her elders.

Hyejin’s relationship with Wheein was the cliched stuff of storybooks, but cliches were cliches because they were rooted in truth. The good girl always went for the bad girl for the thrill; the bad girl always went for the good girl for the stability.

Hyejin rolled with the eastside greaser gang known as the Blue Kats, a group of Korean American youth disenfranchised by the distinctly stratified social classes of their neighborhood. In her signature cropped pedal pushers, red heeled wedges, white tank polished with a black leather jacket, Hyejin’s beauty was raw. She wore her hair up, dark curls pulled up by a red bandana while loose curls dangled by her pierced ears. Her nail polish and lipstick were a cherry red—a matching shade to her daddy’s Corvette.

Against Wheein’s pale skin, that prominent red even looked dangerous. A conservative blonde bombshell, Wheein would turn heads if she ever wore such a scandalous color. All of suburbia would riot, citing rock ‘n roll and fast cars as a reason for her obvious rebellion. Red was the color of lust, and Wheein’s virginal image needed to be preserved at all costs, for she would make an ideal housewife for one lucky man some day.

Wheein was prisoner of her white picket fence life, and Hyejin was the attractive greaser girl ready to help Wheein paint that fence rebel red.

Alas, their relationship satisfied yet another cliche—the heart wanted what the heart couldn’t have, and 1950s America frowned upon a sexually liberated woman, let alone a lesbian. A same sex relationship was taboo far beyond their social differences.  

So they met at the drive-in theater, suffering through terrible movies just to make out in Hyejin’s daddy’s car. It was dark enough to remain anonymous, elusive, blending in with every other hormone-crazed teenager keening for sexual contact.

With the top on the Corvette, the windows fogged from their breathy moans. Hyejin’s hand under Wheein’s mint green halter dress cupping her white lace bra, cherry red lips leaving smooch marks along the curve of Wheein’s shoulder, other hand caressing the soft skin of Wheein’s thigh underneath her petticoat. Wheein shyly pulling at the fly of Hyejin’s pedal pushers, hands eager to delve into the wet warmth underneath Hyejin’s thong. Wheein’s own hips rocking into Hyejin’s fingers, desperate for that satisfying touch only Hyejin could give her…

In the solace of that 1954 cherry red Corvette, Wheein’s cookie-cutter life was interesting and Hyejin was safe from her life on the streets. This was their own slice of heaven together; this was their own slice of heaven in a world not ready for their love.

[paulbenedictblog]

%news%

New Post has been published on %http://paulbenedictsgeneralstore.com%

Fox news ABC News, CBS News face growing backlash over handling of Epstein leaker: They 'colluded' and fired the 'wrong person'

Fox news

ABC Records and CBS Records are both going thru a firestorm of criticism over their response to a leaked video featuring ABC anchor Amy Robach complaining that the network had spiked an interview with a outstanding accuser of convicted pedophile Jeffrey Epstein.

Earlier this week, stories circulated that ABC had identified the employee suspected of leaking the Robach video to controversial watchdog neighborhood Mission Veritas. In step with the stories, ABC executives told their counterparts at CBS, where the staffer had just not too lengthy previously been hired, of their suspicions and the employee soon lost her job.

Then once more, on Friday, ousted CBS staffer Ashley Bianco publicly denied that she used to be the leaker. At almost the very same moment, Mission Veritas published a suppose from the alleged "ABC insider" it claimed used to be in the encourage of the leak.

CBS FIRES FORMER ABC STAFFER WHO BLEW WHISTLE ON NETWORK SPIKING EPSTEIN ACCUSER INTERVIEW

Bianco, a former producer on ABC’s “Valid Morning The United States” who joined “CBS This Morning” final month, acknowledged she used to be fired by CBS after the network obtained a name from ABC informing her new boss that she once had acquire staunch of entry to to the leaked video.

“I didn't" leak the tape, Bianco told journalist Megyn Kelly in an interview posted on YouTube.“I’m not the whistleblower. I’m sorry to ABC, however the leaker is indifferent within.”

Bianco told Kelly that she doesn’t know who leaked the tape because “each person” at ABC used to be awake it existed. She additionally insisted she had never heard of Mission Veritas sooner than this week.

“I begged, I pleaded, I didn’t know what I had performed notorious,” she told Kelly. “I wasn’t even given the expert courtesy to defend myself. It used to be humiliating, it used to be devastating.”

Meanwhile, the alleged leaker -- the use of the pseudonym "Ignotus" -- began the piece published by Mission Veritas by stressing, "I didn't and terminate not look any non-public save from this info whether or not it's monetary or in another case," and expressed their desire to homicide the suggestions public out of "anger, confusion and sadness."

"I’ve walked the halls experiencing the same feelings we're all having horny now," wrote the supposed leaker, addressing ABC workers. "All of you no subject your possess non-public differences in a single form or one more terminate a great job. I sincerely journey working with one and all of you and ought to indifferent proceed to terminate so during our careers."

Ignotus then addressed "these wrongfully accused," an obvious reference to Bianco.

"It's miles horrifying that you just may per chance maybe need got been lashed out at by the corporate. I do know some may put the burden of guilt on me, however my sense of right and incorrect is definite," Ignotus wrote. "The actions of the corporate towards you may per chance maybe maybe also very nicely be the outcomes of their possess and never any person else. The public outcry, from hunch to hunch, of all contributors, creeds, and political affiliations, is definite. I in actuality haven't one doubt that there will continuously be give a make a selection to for you, and you've got prosperous careers. For neither you, nor I, possess performed anything notorious."

CBS Records declined to touch upon Bianco's claim. ABC Records didn't today respond to requests for comment.

CBS NEWS SPARKS OUTRAGE FOR REPORTEDLY FIRING EX-ABC NEWS STAFFER WHO LEAKED EPSTEIN BOMBSHELL

The twin revelations sparked an avalanche of criticism over the fallout of the leaker crackdown.

The Hill's media reporter Joe Concha known as Bianco's allegations about her firing "traumatic" and swiped other info shops for not preserving the rising controversy.

"Here is fully an extra and extra expansive media story and for thus many predominant shops, specifically these with media teams that encourage to veil this roughly story, to ignore it's miles patently shameful," Concha told Fox Records.

The Day-to-day Wire's Matt Walsh accused the networks of "colluding" to fireplace "an innocent girl," calling ABC and CBS "disgraceful organizations."

"ABC had the Epstein story three years previously however killed it to guard a serial rapist pedophile and sex trafficker. Then when the scandal used to be uncovered they tracked down a former staffer and had her fired even though she isn’t the one who leaked it. Fabulous work, ABC. If truth be told superb," Walsh reacted.

ABC NEWS' AMY ROBACH CAUGHT ON HOT MIC SAYING NETWORK SPIKED JEFFREY EPSTEIN BOMBSHELL

NewsBusters managing editor Curtis Houck told Fox Records that Bianco "got right here across as believable" and that if ABC "used to be searching for a head to roll, they went after the notorious particular person."

"It’s an example of how the liberal elites possess made up our minds that the very journalistic ethics that are extolled in journalism colleges and advocacy groups are no bigger than empty guarantees," Houck acknowledged.

Townhall.com political editor Guy Benson laid out a timeline that began with ABC Records quashing "critical reporting into billionaire pedophile’s predations & that you just may per chance maybe maybe per chance imagine co-conspirators," persevered with the network convincing CBS Records to fireplace the "‘culprit,’ w/o clarification, transparency or due course of," and ending with that fired staffer being the "notorious particular person."

"I’m delivery to 1 more aspect of the story, however we haven’t heard it. Wagons seem circled," Benson added.

Whereas many media watchdogs possess criticized ABC and CBS over the incident, CNN’s outspoken media correspondent Brian Stelter has been oddly mute.

"Stelter has not tweeted about the story and as far as we can expose, has not covered the story. He made some extent out in his e-newsletter a pair of nights previously, however right linked to others that are preserving the story," TV blogger Scott Jones wrote. "Clearly this seems to be to be a epic that is in Stelter’s wheelhouse, but we acquire crickets from CNN."

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP

Mission Veritas, whose founder, James O'Keefe, describes himself as a “guerrilla journalist,” published the photos, which included Robach announcing ABC refused to air an interview she performed with one of Epstein’s victims because the British royal household had objected.

Despite fashioned criticism, ABC Records downplayed the importance of the video, previously telling Fox Records that Robach’s Epstein story wasn’t match to air.

“On the time, not all of our reporting met our standards to air, however we possess never stopped investigating the story. Ever since, we’ve had a team on this investigation and tall resources devoted to it," an ABC Records spokesperson told Fox Records. "That work has resulted in a two-hour documentary and six-fragment podcast that will air in the new year.”

Fox Records' Brian Flood contributed to this characterize. 

[hickorycreekrp-blog]

Out of Character:

Name/Alias:  Fran

Pronouns: She/her/hers

Age: 24

Timezone: GMT+1

Face Claim Preferences: Amber Heard

Character Basics:

Full Name: Vivian Grace Rothschild

Nicknames/Prefers: Viv, Vivs, Vivacious, Blonde Bombshell

Age: 27

Occupation: Surgical resident (cardiothoracic) at Hickory Medical Center

Pronouns: She/her/hers

Gender: Female

Hometown: New York City

Current Neighborhood: Cohen Point

Highest Education: Medical school of Harvard University graduate

Religion: Judaism

Family and Relationships:

Parents: James Rothschild (father, 58, a neurosurgeon at New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Cornell) & Olivia Rothschild (mother, 55, professor of Law at Columbia Law School)

Siblings: None

Children: None

Other: /

Pets: /

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Romantic Orientation: Heteroromantic

Marital Status: Single

Personality:

Favorite Film: Gone With the Wind, Almost Famous, You’ve Got Mail, Star Wars, LOTR.

Favorite TV Show: Game of Thrones, House of Cards, That 70’s Show, Friends, Sex and the City.

Favorite Book: Harry Potter series & Shadow of the Wind.

Favorite Song: California Dreamin’ by Mamas & Papas.

Favorite Color: Black, white.

Likes: Tequila, gin tonic, burgers, honesty, loyalty, non-judging people, black tea, black coffee.

Dislikes: Going to the gym,buses, bad insults, lack of creativity, horror movies.

History:

Born in one of the richest families in the United States of America and the world - the Rothschild family, Vivian Grace Rothschild has always been destined to achieve great things, or in the other words, it was expected from her.

The only daughter of the patriarch’s younger son James and his wife Olivia, Vivian is the product of her father’s expensive taste and constant spoiling. From growing up in one of the Upper East Side penthouses, traveling all around the world, going into the best private schools Manhattan could offer, hanging out with a creme de la creme of the high society, Vivian had it all. One could even say she had the city in the palm of her hand, which she herself was well aware of.

Intelligent, gorgeous, ambitious, hard-working, cold, cunning and rich, Vivian has always been a Queen Bee - always used to getting what she wanted, never afraid of doing whatever it was needed to achieve her goals, especially using other people as her pawns. Nothing was sacred to her, not other people’s relationships, not other people’s feelings… what she wanted, she got. After all, with her family’s name, her looks and brain, how hard it even was? Men wanted to date her, women wanted to be her.

But, one would be wrong to say she was like that to everyone. If one would manage to pass a thousand walls that she was hiding herself behind, he could meet a loyal, honest and fierce woman who would do everything for her loved ones, but the small was number of those who got to meet that Vivian.

An incredibly smart and hardworking straight A student who got into the Harvard, Yale, Columbia and Stanford universities after graduating from her private all-girls high school, Vivian first chose to go into the Columbia pre-med school and afterwards going into the Harvard Med School, following in her father’s footsteps. The future was hers. Or was it?

During her years at Harvard, Vivian met a fellow student Josh Morgan, who you could say, was her match. Coming from money himself, with the same thirst for success as Vivian and having the looks of a young Brad Pitt, he was hard to resist. The two of them quickly became the golden couple of Harvard, envied by many. However, the prince had a dark side to himself, the one Vivian met with time… the one that almost destroyed her, led her to her very death. He loved her so much that he wanted to control her all the time, to possess her, to keep her forever his. After one of their arguments where he once again falsely accused her of cheating on him, Josh drove them off a bridge. She survived, he died.

But a new Vivian was born that night - the one who was trying to be good, polite, kind and selfless. The one that would meet everyone with a genuine smile and an open heart. The one that needed a change from the brilliant surgical residency at the New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Cornell. She packed her suitcases and went to a small town of Hickory Creek, CT. The blonde needed a safe environment, the one where she’d be just yet another doctor, and not the daughter of a world-renown surgeon who was also a part of the New York’s high society and one of the most influential families in the world.

But, for how long can she hide her real herself? When and what will woke up the Queen Bee?

[kairiofknives]

The S Word (TftTG Ch. 2)

Summary: For almost two years, Futaba and Akira's relationship has been...rather tame. But one well timed innuendo sends the house mates into a spiral of assumptions and jokes that starts as amusing, but ends up being a source of stress for our young couple, especially Futaba.

Advisory: Contains discussion of body insecurity and sexual themes. (Nothing too major, but still something to prepare for.)

Read on AO3

If Makoto tried hard enough, she could probably pin point the week in which this whole debacle started. It was probably late in June, in their fourth month of officially living in The Guild, when the assumption first brewed in the minds of their members and started spreading like wild fire. Honestly, as much as she would like to remember it being Ryuji who started the whole thing, it could have been anyone. All parties were interestingly enough on the same page back then.

Futaba and Akira recall what most do not: that the topic of their sex life was first brought up by Makoto herself during a movie night.

Life in the Guild changed a few things for everyone. Now, there was constantly someone doing something interesting and worthy of their attention. Spontaneous trips to Central Street were common place. There were frequent video game tournaments in The Den, which was what Ryuji and Futaba referred to their bedroom as. Akira hadn't argued so the decision was decided to be unanimous. (Akira had also been asleep, but no one mentioned that part.) The most scheduled events were family meal times and the Saturday night movie.

With seven different movie preferences, it became obvious that a rotation of movie selection privileges was required for this to work. They had installed a large white board on the wall, indicating such important things as who picked the movie that week as well as who was doing dishes (the most despised chore) and an open slot where any plans for outings could be formally announced. This particular week, Ann had chosen Leap Year. From Makoto's perception of the cover, it was your typical Rom Com. Still, that was perfectly fine. Two weeks ago, Yusuke had offered up A Dog's Purpose as their movie, which had brought every single person to tears and prompted Morgana to take a pilgrimage to tell all dogs in the neighborhood they were good boys. It seemed no one had yet to recover their full range of emotions, so sure, a Rom Com was fine.

By the climax of the movie, most people were asleep, including Akira and Futaba who were curled up on Makoto's lap and snuggled against her shoulder respectively. Ann and Ryuji, the only other two conscious beings by the time the credits rolled, looked over and cooed affectionately at the display.

"Hey, Mom, look. You're cuddling an entire relationship," Ryuji snickered.

Makoto giggled good heartedly. "So it seems. On the topic of our family designations, doesn't that make this," she gestured to the sleeping beauties, "kind of weird? The Dad of the family is dating the cute little sister?"

Ann stood to stretch, laughing. "Yeah it's pretty weird, but those are the most accurate family titles. I mean, when any of us have problems, we literally just wander the house until we find you or Akira. And you guys were the leader duo of the Phantom Thieves too. So yeah, you're our parents. And Futaba is...Futaba so she's our littlest sister."

"Literally and figuratively," Ryuji pointed out.

Makoto smiled, stroking Akira's hair. Futaba snuggled in deeper to her shoulder and added groggily, "You forget that Akira is basically Sojiro's adopted son so he is also my brother."

"Oh my God, that's so true," Ann muttered. "He's Phantom Dad and Coffee Son."

Akira finally joined the conversation, flopped from his side to his back and yawning, "The family that stays together gets together. What is life without a little incest?"

Makoto rolled her eyes. "Well, I suppose the one silver lining is that you aren't blood relatives. Congratulations. Your children may not have horrific birth defects."

Ryuji burst out laughing, "May not?! Holy crap, Makoto."

Futaba finally sat up, wiping at her eyes. "Well, I'm kind of hoping we are all still least tangentially related because my line of the family is a curse to all daughters."

"What?!" Ann demanded, indignantly. "What's that mean, Futaba?"

The girl simply blinked and cupped on small breast in her hand pointedly. "As the one girl in this group without bombshell tits or a tabloid worthy butt, I feel justified in this assessment."

Akira made a very unhappy grumble from his spot, still not opening his eyes. Futaba smiled a bit and kissed his forehead. His frown remained present.

Makoto shook her head in amusement, "I agree with the others on this one, Futaba. You're lovely just as you are. Besides, Akira seems to have no complaints about your body."

Akira's eyes shot open and met Futaba's. They passed a look of "whut" between them, that was drowned out completely by Ryuji's added, "Yeah! I mean, come on, Futaba. How many people could Akira have conceivably ended up with? He picked you over all of those "bombshell girls". Your sex appeal may not take the same form as Ann's, but it landed Akira freaking Kurusu in your bed, didn't it?"

"Wow Ryuji, way to make it seem like the only reason she should approve of her body is if a guy does," Ann scoffed, heading into the kitchen.

Makoto ushered Akira off her lap and patted Futaba's head before following Ann. "Good try Ryuji. We will work on it."

Ryuji grumbled, swiping his drink off the table and headed upstairs.

Akira and Futaba sat in the silence of the living room, listening to Yusuke and Haru's deep breathing. Akira was the first to speak up. "Do you think we should have said something?"

"Meh. I mean, it really isn't any of their business."

"I feel like they're making it their business anyway. And with inaccurate information at that."

Futaba stood, stepping between Akira's spread legs to wrap him in a hug. Her still tired boyfriend hummed happily, wrapping his arms tightly around the girl and nuzzling against her chest. "I don't see it being a big deal. It might even turn out being kinda funny if they think we're always sneaking away to bone at all hours of the day."

Akira laughed into her stomach. "You derive amusement from the strangest things."

"Guilty as charged."

~~~

In truth, Futaba expected to never hear about the conversation post movie night ever again. Surely, everyone else had better things to talk about, right?

Evidently not.  The references to her private life started out rather timid and vague.  Ann complaining about guys who were taller than her and Makoto sweetly pointing out that she and Akira got along just fine.  It was cute and harmless and Futaba liked the feeling of being the referenced source material for "successful relationships".

Then, things got a bit weirder.

Haru and Ann had convinced Futaba to let them paint her nails.  She liked having her nails painted and liked being pampered even more so she agreed.  That's how she ended up with her hands on her thighs and her legs comfortably in Haru's lap.  The girls chatted on and off about various things, mostly Ann's modelling gigs, when suddenly, Ann turned on her.  "Hey, Futaba, I was wondering...ya know, Akira's a pretty tall guy.  How does he not like...crush you when you do it?"

Futaba.exe is not responding.

"Uhhh, what?"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I was just curious."

Haru shook her head, shooting Futaba an apologetic look.  The youngest girl struggled to keep up.  "I-I mean, it's not that big of a deal. He lays on me all the time. He's not that heavy."

Ann beamed, feeding off the power of "girl talk" like it was a consumable resource.  "Yeah, I guess he is kind of a string bean.  Not the same way Yusuke is, but, you know what I mean."

Futaba really did not want to think about Inari and sex in the same sentence.

Uncaring of Futaba's lack of response, Ann carried on, "I guess I've just been thinking a lot about the physicality of it, ya know.  Porn makes it look so easy, but I just can't imagine sex with a super tall guy being comfortable.  Where would his legs go?  Where would your legs go?"

Haru huffed, putting the cap back on her bottle of nail polish.  For a moment, Futaba hoped that maybe Haru was going to spare her poor soul and end this strange conversation.

"You haven't been watching the right porn if you think missionary is the only way to do things, Ann-chan," Haru chirped pleasantly, before placing Futaba's feet carefully in her chair and strolling out of the bedroom.

She wasn't sure who was more shocked: her or Ann.

Luckily, that embarrassing endeavor ended there.  Akira had also been falling victim to gratuitous sex talk.  He pulled her aside one night before dinner.  "Can we please tell them they're misunderstanding the situation?  I feel like all I hear about anymore is other people's opinions of some made up version of my sex life.  It's making me pretty uncomfortable honestly."

Futaba felt for her poor boyfriend, but was still sort of having fun listening to the weird conversations that were prompted by this whole situation.  She laughed, "Oh come on, Akira, lighten up.  You're not embarrassed are you?"

Akira's gaze darkened a bit.  "Honestly, yeah."

With a scoff, she muttered petulantly, "Well I'm sorry I'm not who you want people to joke about you rolling around in the sheets with.  Geez."

The silence following her quip was heavy.  Futaba cautioned a look up at Akira to see him staring at her with an almost emotionless expression.  Uh oh.  Before she could say anything, he turned and walked down the hallway, up the stairs.  She heard his door close heavily and sighed.  She didn't see him again that night, but he responded to her to good night text.  So, he was mad, but not completely avoiding her mad.  She could work with that.  She vowed to try to make it up to him the next day.

~~~

When she got to the house the next afternoon, she had absolutely no plan for how to approach this conversation with Akira, only knew that it had to happen.  She had spent a good deal of the day trying to get the thoughts in her head to condense into words, to almost no success.  Nothing would help though, so Futaba planned to politely ask that Ryuji chill in the living room for an hour and hash it out with Akira.  That probably would absolutely not make the "our friends think we're having sex but we're not" issue worse, but she could only battle one thing at a time.

That was the plan anyway.  When she climbed the stairs, she was instantly spotted by Ann.

"Futaba! Hey! Can we talk real quick? I need your advice."

She sighed.  One quick diversion wouldn't derail her plan.  "Coming."

When she entered Ann's room, she honestly had no idea what to expect.  Ann loved to chat with her, but very rarely ever asked her for help unless it was about her laptop.

"Ok, so you know how I've been talking with this male model I did that shoot in July with?"  She nodded.  "Well, we've been flirting. A lot.  And it's been getting a little....intense. Anyway, he offered to send a pic and I figured, eh, why not, and...well, just look."

That...was certainly not a part of the male anatomy she planned to see today.

"He sent you a dick pic?"

Ann nodded, looking completely casual about the extremely explicit image on her phone.  "Yeah. He said I didn't have to send anything back, but now that I have this, I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with it.  It's sort of...weird to look at without the rest of the body to also look at, huh?"

She had to get the hell out of here.  Like now.

"Uh, I don't know.  I've never gotten a dick pic before, I guess."

Ann giggled, "Yeah, but you've see a dick though.  That's much more helpful.  So, reason I called you in here, in your opinion, how...sizable is this?"

Oh my god.  "Sizable?"  Could her face get any redder?

"Yeah, like...do you think it would hurt?  I mean, you could just compare it to Akira's I guess and tell me if that hurt."

Futaba squeezed her eyes shut.  Ok, no way.  Uh uh. Nope.  Akira was right, this was actually the worst.  "Ann, I don't really feel comfortable talking about that."

When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see Ann looking a bit, panicked.  Ann shook her head quickly, frowning.  "No, no, I'm sorry that was super untactful."  She was speaking pretty quickly.  Even for Ann.  "I...guess I'm just not sure what to do here."

The younger girl smiled to herself.  Ann was quirky and could sometimes be far too blunt, but she never meant to make her uncomfortable.  Still, Ann's behavior ever since she starting talking to his guy had been...a little bit off.  The level of boy crazy the blond had been recently was just a bit too drastic to be normal.  It almost felt fake.  Futaba's eyes widened a bit.  Maybe it was.  "Do you even like this guy, Ann?"

The blond blinked, bit her bottom lip and then shook her head. From the troubled look on her face, Futaba knew she had hit the nail on the head. "I mean, kinda?  He's cute.  But, we don't click super well."  Ann sighed, picking at her nails. "But, ya know, it's not like I have anyone else lined up. And he's not that bad. I could maybe start to like him...if I tried hard enough..."

Futaba frowned, tone stern.  "The Ann I know and love would never just try to make it work with a guy just for the sake of it."

Ann groaned and dug her palms into her eyes, "Ugh! I know! I'm just...ugh."  For a moment, Futaba was worried Ann would start crying.  She was not well equipped for that sort of comforting.  Eventually, though, Ann lowered her hands, looking more defeated than Futaba had ever seen before.  "I guess I just wanted something."

"Something like what?"

"I don't know," she whined, "Like what you and Akira have, I guess."  That one, Futaba did not expect.  She had been half viciously enjoying how envious everyone had seemed of her apparent experience on this matter.  Unsurprisingly, watching one of her bed friends actually acting out due to jealousy that she was making worse...didn't make her feel too great.

"Ann, no. You're wonderful, and gorgeous, and driven and a fantastic catch.  I'm honestly jealous of you.  How...effortless everything seems to you.  And even if you don't have everything all figured out, you sure look like you do, which is even more impressive."  She paused, holding Ann's hand.  "I'm not single, so I can't exactly relate to how you're feeling.  But, I do know that you're worth a hell of a lot more than settling for some guy, who is willing to send out dick pics rather than connecting with you like a normal person, just because he's pretty to look at."

Ann's smile started small but grew larger the more Futaba talked.  Finally, she decided, "Ya know what, you're right Futaba."  She stood, hands on her hips and a determined shine to her eyes. "Ann Takamaki settles for no one!"

"Here here," Futaba agreed, glad to see Ann back to her normal fiery self.  "Now if you don't mind..."

Ann blushed, "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry I dragged you in here just for this. Enjoy your evening with Akira!"

Futaba fled before any more innuendos or attempts at long emotional conversations could be made.

~~~

Futaba wandered down the hall in a daze. She loved her friends dearly, but sometimes they could be a little bit...exhausting. Also, she never wanted to think about another penis for as long as she lived.

Ok, well maybe not, but it would be at least a few hours. Maybe even days.

As she approached the end of the hall, she ran into Ryuji who was dressed in a ironed button down, nice jeans and holding his pillow and blanket. What?

"Going somewhere, Ryuji?"

The boy grinned at her.  "Hey Futaba!  Guess what?  No actually, you'll never guess.  Or just be mean about it.  Anyway, I got a date tonight!"

"Huh, really?  You look like you're headed to a business casual slumber party."

Ryuji puffed his chest out, "Nope, your sarcasm cannot hurt me now, Futaba!  I've just scored some expert advice so I may not be home until late."

Futaba's brow raised at the idea of "expert advice". So Akira had gotten grilled too, huh? Damnit. She'd be giving him back rubs and head scratches for weeks to make up for this mess...

"And you have your pillow with you because...?"

"Oh I'm gonna. Ya know. Give you guys some alone time. Sleep out on the pullout tonight. Figured it's the least I can do."

The girl groaned, "Ryuji."

"No no. I get it. Couples gotta do the do sometimes. If this date goes well, I'm gonna need to be kicking you guys out. It's all good. Equivalent exchange."  He snickered to himself.  "See what I did there?  That was totally an FMA reference."

Futaba blinked but let him run his mouth. She was far far too tired to argue at this point. What the ever living hell had she gotten herself into? Maybe she'd take advantage of Ryuji's generous offer. To hang herself quietly in the privacy of their quarantined "sex den". Geez.

"How kind of you. Alright. Well, gotta run. Lots of carnal relief to be had. See you later. Good luck on your date," she replied mechanically, shuffling to the room and shutting the door firmly behind her. She leaned back against it with a sigh.

When she finally opened her eyes, she spotted Akira wrapped in the large blue comforter, face down in the bean bag chair she insisted they buy for the room. She observed him idly for a few moments before sighing again and grumbling, "Ok. You were right. I was wrong. We should have told them right away. This kinda sucks."

Akira unburied his face from it's cloth tomb and looked up at her, looking utterly unamused and just as exhausted as she was.

"Oh, don't give me that face. You know I can't deal with that sort of emotional blackmail," Futaba groaned, slumping against the door a bit. Akira continued to stare at her, blinking occasionally. He didn't even seem mad at her. Or even annoyed or disappointed. Just tired. Her heart squeezed, unable to just leave him looking like that even despite her own crabbiness. "Oooh. Damnit! Alright. Fine, you win."

She threw herself down on the bean bag with him, assuming Akira's favorite position of her on her back, arms spread wide open, waiting to cuddle the hell of him. It took him a minute. At first, he only looked at her blankly from his blanket cocoon. But eventually, he huffed, untangling himself to flop down on top of her chest, face hiding in her neck. She took some time to tug at the blankets, arranging them to fit over her as well. Futaba arranged her legs so he was trapped between them and pressed her face into his hair. There. Finally comfortable.

They laid like that for awhile, one of her hands scratching at his scalp, the other buried under his shirt, running her nails softly up and down his back. By the amount of happy rumbling and sighing she was getting, she imagined he had forgiven her. Still, didn't mean they shouldn't talk about it. "I'm sorry, Akira. When you said you were uncomfortable with how much everyone was talking, I should have immediately corrected them. I wasn't thinking about you at all. All I cared about was what I was getting out of it. I'm an A tier jerk. And a trash tier girlfriend. And I'm really really sorry."

Akira huffed against her neck. "I wouldn't go that far." He planted a kiss on her pulse point, sending pleasant shivers through her. "What were you getting out of it, out of curiosity?"

Closing her eyes, Futaba grimaced. "In reality, nothing. But. I guess. In my mind, I thought I was being adult." Akira made an inquisitive noise, nudging her with his nose. It was such a feline thing to do, she made a mental note to buy him a black cat onesie for Christmas. Morgana would probably love it. "I don't know. It's like...hmm. You know how Ann and Ryuji call me the little sister? Well, suddenly, I was better at something than them. They wanted to be in my shoes for once, not the other way around."

"Futaba, you were already better at something than them. Than all of us. How many times a week does someone ask you to fix their computer or teach them how to use a program? You're a genius and the only tech savvy soul in this building."

"Not like that though," she mumbled. "Ok, fine, maybe it was more so Ann than Ryuji. Almost entirely Ann actually. And Makoto." Futaba sighed, biting her lip. "I guess the whole thing about the other girls being more...womanly than me wasn't just a joke. I'm only a year younger than Ann and look at the difference between us. She's literally a super model and I'm...just me."

Akira adjusted his weight, trying to get his arms underneath him and push himself up. Futaba tugged him back down her chest. She needed to say this and knew the moment their eyes met, her train of thought would be derailed. Once he stilled once more, she continued.

"It's not just physical looks either though. It's. Ugh. Ann is so confident in herself. And maybe it's because she looks the way she does, but part of me feels like if we traded bodies right now, she'd still have this aura of utter sexiness and I'd still be a wreck. I know you're the one who suggested we go slow. You've said multiple times you're content with just kissing. But. I guess I wonder if that's really true. It's been almost two years after all. And I've...felt you get excited while making out but you never push me. Which is so sweet, but..."

Futaba paused, drawing in a breath, then releasing it slowly.  "I know you want to go further. I'm worried that you're holding back for my sake and not enjoying it as much as you could. And as much as I wish it weren't necessary that you hold back...it is. I do get overwhelmed easily and that frustrates me. Because if I were Ann or Makoto or Haru, I probably wouldn't have any trouble jumping your bones and not feeling like...I was about to explode even thinking about it. And I guess I just feel like...you deserve someone you don't have to hold back with."

She stopped and listened to the combined sounds of their breathing. Akira's was a bit faster than normal. She knew he was probably clenching his fists a bit. Maybe she had made him mad. But, she thought, looking at the ceiling as if it contained the answer to the meaning of life, she wasn't unsatisfied with how the words have come out. She wasn't sure exactly what outcome she wanted. What did she want him to reply? Her breath hitched in her throat at the idea of Akira actually agreeing with her. Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to convince herself that would be ok.

It wouldn't be, though.

"Are you finished?"

Sweet boy, always careful not to overstep his bounds. Even now. Futaba loosened her hold on him. "Yeah."

Akira sat up and scooted backwards a bit. His eyes were trained on the his crossed legs, a dark gleam to them that she simply couldn't decipher. The distance he was putting between them, in both the physical and emotional sense, made her heart constrict painfully. She was not the biggest fan of having these tense, seemingly life or death type conversations.  But, despite the obvious discomfort of having to drag all their shadows into the light and look them in the eyes, they had never had a rough heart to heart of his nature that didn't immediately and thoroughly clear up misunderstandings and provide plans of attack for the future.  They were good at this, she and Akira.  They were on the same team, she reminded herself.  Oracle and Joker.  If she just honestly conveyed her thoughts and trusted in him, everything would be fine.

Didn't mean it wasn't nerve-wracking though.

She mirrored the boy's stance, maintaining the distance he had purposefully created.  As soon as she was settled, Akira let out a loud sigh.  "Does what I want not matter at all in this situation?"  Futaba stayed quiet.  The unspoken rule between them was that if the other wasn't meeting your eyes, they were still thinking.  Akira pointed watched his fingers fidget with the hem of his pants.  She would wait.

"People use the word 'deserve' a lot. 'You deserve better' or 'I don't deserve him'.  As if the only things worth having in life are that which we are somehow derived to deserve.  Never mind how subjective the idea of deserving something is, but if everyone got what they deserved...well, Shido and Kamoshida would never have even met me, in all likelihood."  Akira shook his head, clenching and unclenching his fists. "My father is no sage, but he has taught me a couple interesting things. One of them was that the word 'deserve' is usually never directed at the right person. It usually reflects the speaker's own desires.  I don't think that's always true." Akira spared a glance up at Futaba, eyes roaming over her face before flickering back to his lap.  "But I definitely think it is true in this case."

Both hands came up to run through his hair roughly.  His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his gray eyes stormy in appearance.  Whatever idea he had rolling around in his head spun and spun, until he finally lowered his hands again.  "Whether I want to go further is irrelevant.  This wouldn't be bothering you if you weren't discontent yourself." Akira clicked his tongue against his teeth, "When we first tried getting you acclimated to being outside of the house, I pushed you.  We threw you into different social environments head first and expected you to swim or me to save you.  We very well could try that here too, but..."  Akira wrung his wrists in agitation, frowning.  "This is so different though.  This isn't just coaxing you out a room that you thought of a prison.  This is more like...trying to coax you out of the assessment of your body as a prison."

Futaba inhaled sharply. Akira's eyes flew to meet her own but she closed them defensively.  She remembered with striking vividness what being a prisoner of her own heart felt like.  The constant desperation, echoing self hatred.  No, this wasn't quite like that.  This type of discontentment settled in her stomach, akin to the feeling she got before the panic when she first got separated from Akira in Akiba.  She opened her eyes again, and saw that Akira had placed his hand next to hers, palm up.  An invitation.  She met his anxious eyes, smiled just a bit, just enough to show she was ok.  "It's not a prison," she corrected, tone soft, almost a whisper.  "It's more like...an unfamiliar place. It's...my body, but I don't feel like...I completely own it.  It's like a stranger sometimes."  She grimaced, shook her head, met his eyes.  She needed help.

Akira wet his lips and offered, "So a bit like a new house, maybe?  Your name is on the sign out front and the lease, but the inside doesn't quite look like home yet.  Is that it?"

Futaba ruminated over the analogy for a bit, tried to picture it.  Her time as a shut in meant she ignored her body, in multiple ways.  Didn't eat always.  Slept too little or too much, no in between.  The loathing and self hatred made emotions like arousal and lust just as useless to her as happiness and hope were.  The most time she ever spent naked was in the shower, which she admitted to herself she didn't do often enough.  She supposed, in many ways, it was a lot like a new house.  She hadn't spent time in it, didn't try to decorate or make it hers.  Yet, was shocked or upset when it felt alien to her.

...And if she didn't even feel content in this house, why would she feel comfortable inviting guests over...?

She nodded, slowly at first, then more firmly.  Akira's eyes lit up a bit, pleased.  "Yeah, that's exactly it.  I'm not completely comfortable looking at my own body naked yet, so it kinda makes sense that I'm jittery about letting someone else see."  She sighed a bit, slipping her hand in Akira's outstretched one.  She liked the way their fingers slid together, nice and snug.  In a weird tangential way, that was what she really wanted out of physical companionship.  Feeling a secure connection.  Being close for the sake of closeness.  As close as two people could possibly get.  Futaba met Akira's eyes once more.  "I want to be with you.  Closer than anyone else.  I want to touch you and make you feel good and not be scared for you to return the favor.  I just...I want you."  A bright red blush spread across Akira's cheeks, bringing a smile to her equally red face.  Her mood dampened a bit as she admitted, "I want that so much, but...I don't know how to get there."

Akira squeezed her hand and declared, "I do."  Futaba's eyes widened.  "Same way we got you used to being out in the world again.  You just need to get used to it.  Much slower this time, probably, but same basic process.  We can give you assignments to get you more comfortable being naked or being touched.  Work our way up to whatever end point you want to reach."

Futaba's smile was soft, but excited.  "Another promise list?"

"Exactly.  We'll go at your pace.  You write out the steps you want to take, and we can get there however or whenever we please."

Her optimism made her bold. The smile slowly spread to a smirk.  With mischief in her eyes, Futaba leaned in right next to Akira's ear and purred, "And if my end goal happens to be 'fuck Akira Kurusu absolutely senseless'?"

Futaba felt the body underneath hers shudder, a hand coming up to hug her close to him.  His voice was a bit raspy, "Well, first I would ponder where on Earth you got so disillusioned as to think you're not the sexiest woman living in this house." He planted a firm kiss on Futaba's cheek, and nudged her gently back a bit to look into her eyes.  "And second I would say that Akira Kurusu must be a pretty lucky guy."

Futaba snorted in amusement, obviously blushing, "Stop fibbing, you nerd.  Didn't we just agree my body is like an ugly house or something?"

"Hey, don't insult that house.  I happen to like it a lot and would be honored to become intimately acquainted with it, should to invitation arise," his hands rose up to cup her face, pressing kiss after kiss to her hairline, soaking in the sound of her happy giggles.  Akira pressed their foreheads together and waited until Futaba met his eyes before whispering, "I love you, Futaba."

"I love you too, Akira.  I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Would you like the mystical Chinese fortune cookie answer or the dry simple answer?"

She giggled, "The latter, please, sir."

"It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do.  I wanted to be with you and you apparently want to be with me, so we are together.  Now, no more of this deserving or undeserving bullshit please?"

"Deal," Futaba nodded.

They decided that it was late enough that getting home might be a stretch for Futaba, even if she left immediately.  She anticipated that Sojiro would be livid with her, but as soon as he answered the phone, he immediately barked, "Just stay at their house tonight, Futaba. I'd rather begrudgingly trust Akira not to do anything stupid than risk you missing your connecting train in Shibuya and getting stuck out there."

Futaba smiled, "Alright. Thanks, dad."

Sojiro sputtered, as he always did when she threw down the Dad Card unexpectedly.  "Well, just...," he sighed, "Just make sure you get to school on time alright? And you can thank me by having dinner at the Cafe tomorrow with your poor dad.  Both of you."

"Okie dokie, artichokey."

"Alright.  Good night, Futaba."

"Nighty night, Sojiro."

Akira was dressed for sleep, sprawled out on his bed like a content cat.  She giggled to herself.  The resemblance between their wonderful Trickster and dear old feline guide was sometimes uncanny.  The usual post important conversation exhaustion hit her immediately.  She knew she was free to use Ryuji's bed, or even ask Akira to take Ryuji's bed, if she so chose, but they did just decide to start pushing her comfort zones again...

"Hey, Akira," she got a hum in response. "Can my first promise list item be to sleep in your bed with you?"  Akira smiled sleepily at her, patting the bed and waggling his eyebrows.  She grinned.  "And would I be able to borrow a shirt to sleep in tonight?"

"Only a shirt? Damn, girl. You'll be jumping my bones in no time."

Just to spite him, she did indeed jump into bed without pants, relishing his surprised squawk when his hand landed on her bare thigh.  It took her awhile to fall asleep, but Akira was warm and she fit quite nicely tucked against his side, one leg thrown over his hips and head pillowed on his chest.  The gentle up and down motion of his breathing was soothing and when she did finally drop off to sleep, it was the deepest and most comfortable rest she ever remembered having.

~~~

She woke up on her own, about twenty minutes before her alarm was due to ring, based on the LED clock on the bedside table.  She had obviously done some tossing and turning at some point because her face was squished against the mattress, which she found to be sopping wet.  The culprit was likely the trail of drool dried on her cheek.  Gross.  Futaba shifted her body, trying to account for all of her limbs.  As she became more aware, she realized there was an arm trapped beneath her rib cage and a hairy leg shoved snugly between her thighs.  When she turned her head to look at her bed-mate, she very nearly burst out laughing.  Akira's face was perhaps the most calm and adorable she'd ever seen it.  She'd seen Akira sleep before, but this was the deep, lost to the world type of sleep.  Long eyelashes and gorgeous relaxed facial features.  He really was one of the most attractive men she'd ever had the pleasure to meet.

The large amount of her hair trapped in his mouth sort of detracted from the angelic image though.

Trying hard not to laugh, she slowly pulled her hair, watching with gross fascination as Akira attempted to chew it as it slide by.  Like a freaking cow.  She pressed her face back into the bed, body shaking with her mirth.  Falling asleep with another person was a bit difficult, but soothing.  Waking up with another person was actually pretty disgusting and slightly uncomfortable.

She loved it.

The arm under her suddenly curled around her and jerked her against Akira's incredibly warm body.  She squirmed for a minute, giggling.  The sleeping beauty crackled one gray eye open and slurred, "Wh's so funny?" which caused her to laugh even harder.

"You uh, probably don't need breakfast I guess.  Your stomach must be pretty full from all the hair you were munching on."

Akira hummed.  "Your hair?"

"Who else's hair could you eat?"

"It wouldn't be the first time Morgana's tail ended up in my mouth."

"Oh my god, that's soo gross."

Akira simply hummed again.

Her alarm going off was what finally pushed them out of bed.  When they got downstairs, Ryuji and Ann both had large grins on their faces, no doubt overly invested in the fact that Futaba had spent the night. Makoto was quietly sipping coffee and petting Morgana, who looked to be half asleep.  Haru was long gone, headed to her morning shift at LeBlanc.  Yusuke was buttering toast in the kitchen, but not so subtly throwing glances their way every now and then.  What a bunch of idiots, she thought.  Akira looked like he was going to say something, but Futaba put a hand on his arm.  She started this mess.  She would end it too.

Akira didn't argue, instead went to heat her up some curry, portioning out the rest in a container for her lunch.  As she waited, Ryuji and Ann kept giving her looks.  Fine, if they didn't want to make the first move, she would.

"How'd your date go, Ryuji?"

Ryuji blinked, then grinned at the invitation to blab about his evening.  Idly, Futaba noticed that Ann's grin visibly dimmed at the mention, but she promptly filed this information away under the category 'things to absolutely not butt her nose into' along with following up on their...enlightening conversation from last night.  "It was fantastic!  We really hit it off.  I don't know what it was about Akira's advice, but no matter what I said to her, she was eating out of my hands.  We've got a second date coming up soon."

Makoto smiled, "That's wonderful, Ryuji.  Glad it worked out."

Ryuji nodded, chest puffed out proudly.  "Yep!  Man, who would have thought my best friend getting some would benefit me?  Like this weird spiritual wing man thing."

"Well," Futaba started, getting right to the point, "I'm happy the advice helped, but you do know that the only 'some' Akira has gotten has been a pretty stellar amount of making out, cuddling and long heart felt conversations, right? Well...at least from me."

The room was quiet for a moment before Ann and Ryuji both muttered, "huh?"

Akira chuckled, placing a plate of curry and rice in front of Futaba before sitting down himself.  "It's true. We never indicated that we were in a sexual relationship.  That was something you all suspected all on your own."

Makoto squinted at the pair, "You never denied it either."

"Yeah, you're right," Futaba acknowledged around a mouthful of rice.  "That was mostly my fault.  Didn't see a reason to correct you because I didn't think it would be much of a conversation topic.  That was until...well, it was the only conversation topic."

Morgana stretched and launched himself into Akira's lap, nuzzling his best friend in greeting.  "I'm surprised none of you dumb asses thought to ask me.  Not only do I often sleep in that room, but I'm the one with heightened smell and hearing.  If anything were going on, I would have probably known about it."

Ann smiled awkwardly, "I think the real issue is that we just didn't ask anyone. We all just rolled with the assumption.  I'm sorry, you guys."

The other guilty parties murmured apologies as well.  Silence fell over the group once again, everyone sitting there awkwardly and not looking at each other. It was surprisingly Yusuke who chimed in, "Damn. I was so hoping that you'd agree to model for me.  I'm close to perfecting the artistic portrayal of lust, I just need about an hour of reference material."

Various screams of indignation and laughter broke out and just like that, the weird tense atmosphere was shattered.  Their morning moved along as normal then.  They all rode the train to Shibuya, Futaba still muttering to herself about "that pervy Inari."  As empties out into the underground walkway, Ann timidly pulled her aside.  She motioned to Akira to wait and went with Ann to a slightly secluded corner.

"Futaba, I am so so sorry about last night.  And how obnoxious I've been in general. I can't even imagine the sort of pressure all that talk must have been putting on you. I promise that I at least will try my best not to let something like that happen again."

Futaba shook her head, amused.  "It's fine, Ann.  I could have said something at any time.  You couldn't have known."  She gave a weak laugh and joked, "And see?  Not so much to be jealous of between Akira and I, now is there?"

Ann blinked at her, stunned.  "No, Futaba.  If anything, I'm more jealous.  Our whole society thinks of sex as the pinnacle of development in a relationship.  It's like some weird milestone people rush off to reach and let control their whole relationship.  You guys have gone two years just enjoying each other's company and going against the flow."  She grinned, rubbing her neck awkwardly, "That's the sort of dynamic I'm going to strive for now."

Futaba felt pride bloom in her gut, pride for her relationship that relied on healthy conversations and pride in her partner, who constantly pushed her to be the best version of herself she could be.  "Thanks, Ann."

When she met back up with Akira, Ryuji and he were having one of their bro hugs.  Maybe even Ryuji could have important heart to hearts when the need arose. She sidled up to her boyfriend's side and tilted her head curiously.  Akira merely smiled and flicker her forehead playfully.  When they all went their separate ways, Futaba assured Akira that she'd just meet him at LeBlanc for dinner after school let out.  

Speaking of school, she had to seriously haul ass to make it on time.  She felt like her lungs were about to pop as she sprinted up the stairs and burst into her classroom just before the final bell rang.  She very narrowly restrained herself from fist pumping in joy and made her way to her seat so the teacher could start.

Everything was back to normal.  The group chat was filled with senseless garble, mostly courtesy of Ryuji.  (She certainly helped though.)  Classes were as boring as ever and the window was just as lovely to distract herself with.  At lunch, her friends were discussing the idea of living in the dormitories at college.  "Can you imagine living with like all of your friends though?  I can't tell if that would be amazing or absolutely terrible!"

A smile crept over her lips at the thought.  So far, living with the Phantom Thieves was hectic.  Everyone shoved their noses into everyone else's business, there were more weird quirks to get used to and deal with than ever before in her life, and everyone had their own issues that all slammed into each other when they got home.  But for all of that mess, Futaba knew there was only one thing she could say on this topic.

"I think it sounds like the best thing ever."

[ecotone99]

[RO] [NSFW] Pray for Two

I was upset over a girl this Christmas and sought to drain some bitter emotion in a manner that didn't involve excessive drinking and masturbation. I appreciate comments, tips, and reviews

Pray for Two

It’s custom that on Christmas, before my parents and I sit around our ornamented table to eat, we attend mass at the local Roman Catholic Parish. We spent the daybreak in a shouting match about my refusal to emerge from my *dziura and leave with them to church.

Polish word for “hole”. The narrator's father uses it to describe his son's room.

By the time I finished masturbating, it was twelve; afternoon mass had just commenced. I contemplated blowing it off completely, but figured it was the least I could do for my father as he never ceases to remind me that nothing would bring him more joy than my company at Sunday night mass.

I dressed in a plaid red flannel, light gray slacks, a light gray peacoat, and a pair of brown suede dress shoes. If I wasn’t so pressed on time, I’d have swapped the flannel for something more elegant, for with the addition of my beard, I looked like a lumberjack in the early stages of converting to a gentleman. However, once I shaded my eyes with a pair of dark amber Wayfarers and gazed at my reflection in a tinted car window, I felt like a thin white Rick Ross (the rapper). And so I started toward the end of my block taking long lofty steps. At the end, down by where the community piled their garbage twice a week, a small pup was dragging his nose on the ground. The pup was preceded by a small, fair-skinned girl with dainty features. Two flat antlers protruded from her cherry-red hair. The dog whipped her around and I observed a small red sphere extending from her nose. As I approached, I recognized her to be the young Jewess who moved into my neighborhood about four years ago. Upon her arrival, she was only fifteen, and although her blossoming beauty radiated to a dangerous degree, I always managed to keep myself in check while in her presence. We hit it off pretty fast—she was quick-witted and bookish. It was easy with her, you’d introduce a topic, a recent event for example, even just a headline that you read, and she already had a thought-out opinion of the matter. And even if you played devil’s advocate, as I often did, she’d cement through with bold conviction. Back then, I rejected her chutzpah. At the time, the only thing I was confident about was being unsure of everything. That was until she convinced me that confidence, even in the face of uncertainty, is the only way forward. Once I was convinced, I became both jealous of and feverishly attracted to her.

She turned eighteen at the start of one summer and literally parted her legs before me the minute the clock struck eleven forty-three pm, the time recorded on her birth certificate. We had gone out for dinner at The Olive Garden that evening—our parents knew that she and I would talk for long stretches of time outside and didn’t think much of it. My parents liked her; they remarked that she was always cordial whenever running into her outside in the neighborhood. My mother would blush whenever she came up during dinner-table conversation, “I heard the neighbor girl got accepted into Princeton,” she said one evening. “Yeah, she did. . . but I think she’s choosing The Rhode Island School of Design,” I replied. My father looked up after forking up some pickled cabbage, “Perhaps she’ll convince you to go back to school,” he snickered under his breath with grim sarcasm. At the time I was in the midst of a brief hiatus, taking a year or so to master the art of Chinese food delivery.

I once asked her how her parents felt about me as a serious prospect, and she replied, “Have you ever baked a dreidel?” I said nothing in response, understanding the message, but she proceeded to pinch my cheek saying, “Aw, fuck ‘em, you’re my favorite little gentile.” With me at six-two and her at five-four, I towered over her.

At The Olive Garden the night of her eighteen birthday, she took a breadstick and began to wiggle it horizontally as if trying to perform the rubber pencil illusion. She then turned her head and pressed the tip of the breadstick against her rouge lips. She kissed it lightly and turned to me, smiling coyly. Then, without waiting for my initial reaction, she shoved the stick into her mouth and ferociously chomped down on it before chucking it back into the basket while crumbs were still raining down onto the table. Afterward, she fell into a wild hysteria, laughing like a hyena, gripping her stomach with one hand and pointing at my frozen wide-eyed gaze with the other.

That night, I paid seventy dollars in exchange for three unbothered hours with her in a bedroom at a Days Inn down the street from the restaurant. She was ravenous from the get-go, and we nearly skinned each-other when removing clothes, but once bare, I slowed the tempo—her growing more feverish with every graze. It was tight when I inserted. I manipulated my stroking sequence taking feedback from her every micro expression. We commenced the Bang-Mitzvah with missionary and for at least five minutes she vocalized nothing but high-pitched mouse-like squeaks. Then she looked into my eyes, wrapped her hands around my neck, brought me down to a hair's width away from her face and said, “I’m glad it’s you. . . .”

As I approached her this Christmas morning, she smiled, the sun glinting off her face as if it were the surface of a lake.

“Hey, how you been? How’s school?” I said while bending down to pay my respects to her furry little brown blotched shih tzu.

“Oh, it’s fun. . . have my own space now. . . the freedom,” she replied, sneaking a wink in at that last part. This caught me off guard. Ever since I took her innocence, we hadn’t really been corresponding much. She left for school that summer, and Rhode Island was a ways away from Staten Island. And a week after that fateful night, I was let off from my food delivery position. The owner informed me that the restaurant's old driver was moving back into the area and that she had promised him a position if ever was the case. But after about a week, a ‘Driver Wanted’ sign hung in the window, and I began to doubt her story. I think she actually caught on to me. At the end of every shift, I was supposed to report my tip earnings and fork over a percentage . . . I always skimmed some off the top though, reporting less than I actually received. She must’ve been aware of realistic averages from past, honest drivers. After that bombshell, my funds quickly exasperated and as at least one of our parents was always home, I simply couldn’t afford to have sex with her.

“Must be nice,” I replied, petting the gleeful pup. “I found decent work, but I don’t want to pay rent and share a kitchen with some rando.”

“What’s the job?” she asked while I rose from the ground, “And I get you.”

“I’m a. . . like a teachers assistant. . . I work at a school.”

“Aw, I’m so happy for you.”

I didn’t reply to that. Her pitiful tone indicated that she knew, or at least assumed, that I was going through a rough patch. Instead, I switched the topic.

“So. . . what’s up with the Rudolph theme? And that’s a wig right?”

“Ah, yes. . . . See, I’m a rebel Jew—you should come in and see my house, I’ve dressed this collapsible Christmas tree that I keep tucked away in the attic, and ABC Family’s ‘25 Days of Christmas’ is blaring in the living room.”

“Your parents are cool with it?”

“Oh, hell to the naw—but every Christmas my dad spends all day at his office and my mom’s in the city consulting with a doctor.”

I put on a thoughtful expression and became quiet.

“Yup, this is just the way I am,” she continued, “but come over! Let me show you all the cute little ornaments I put up for the day.”

“I’m actually running late for mass,” I replied.

“Well, if you’re already going to be late, it doesn’t matter how late.”

“Bulletproof logic. . . . I guess I can step inside for a second. I’m interested in seeing how rogue you’ve actually gone.”

After the dog hosed down the fire hydrant, I followed her inside. All the while I thought of our first and only fuck, and how, if I had the money and she wasn’t in Rhode Island, I’d get my own place just be alone and comfortable with her.

Inside was an assortment of Christmas things, mostly little knick-knacks sort of strewn about. There was a nativity scene on the sill under the kitchen window and I wondered if the depiction of Jesus’ birth was the same by Jewish doctrine. Ironically, the Christmas tree was topped with a Star of David. I couldn’t discern if this was done out of mockery or a whole-hearted display of cultural amalgamation.

“So. . . what do you think?” she said as I was gazing at the star atop the tree.

“This mesh of cultures is causing my eyes to well up. . . it’s. . .” I drew in air through my nose and skimmed my finger across a lower eyelid, “it’s. . . beautiful.”

“Oh, you’re full of shit. . . but thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.”

Albeit her saying that I was “full of shit,” a soft rouge blossomed in the centers of her pale cheeks; I stepped towards her and softly clasped my hands around them. Her lips parted slightly, revealing the blinding whiteness of her front teeth. Frosty blue rings around her tiny pupils gleamed against the cold, winter sun streaming in through the windows. I inched my head forward as if it were precious cargo being moved by a crane. As our lips met, I dropped to the couch beside the tree. My body buzzed warmly as if I had just taken a swig of old scotch. I kept my eyes closed, straining in an effort to send her telepathic messages. I yearned for pressure, I’d have settled for a slab of stone over me. And then she went, toppling onto me as if caught by a fainting spell.

Much like the first time, we stripped each other frantically, but when going through the motions, I realized she had gained much experience. While on top, she rode me in various styles as if it were second nature. Before, I was the sole director, now it was a mutual effort—push and pull. This left me conflicted; from one side I was a bit saddened at the thought of some gung ho college boy, or plural, taking temporary reign over her body; and from the other—her promiscuousness, dressing up in racy little clothing just to attend some haphazard frat party, being the object of unshakable desire, willing and ready for the taking, made her all the more alluring! It was enough to drive me mad with desire. I was aroused as I had ever been. Her flesh was as pure as it was the summer before she left for school, and now it was supplemented by experience. I was so lost in my burning desire and her plush interior that I couldn’t fathom a reality that was devoid of it. Clinging onto what seemed like fantasy, I asked her:

“Are you on birth control?” My breath was heavy, my thirst for air insatiable.

“Yes. . . kind of,” her voice faltered; her breathing matched mine. “Kind of?”

“Just cum in me!” she howled, gripping the back of my neck, bringing my lips to hers as I came down. No further questions, her resolve was what would finally drive me to orgasm. I have only once ever came inside someone before, and severe paranoia had followed me like a rain cloud for weeks afterwards despite the girl’s assurance that her ex always finished inside without consequence.

My muscles numbed as bliss spread from the tip of my penis through the rest of my body. My back hunched as I slowly pulled out. My thighs gave out and I collapsed on the carpeted floor, sprawling in ecstasy.

I spent a long moment simply lying there, catching my breath and recovering my senses.

“What did you mean by ‘Kind of’?” I asked, now having recovered the rationale one often loses during sex.

“I meant. . . it doesn’t matter if I’m on birth control or not.” “Doesn’t matter?”

“No. . . it doesn’t. . . it doesn’t because I’ve been diagnosed with cancer.”

“What?. . . When?”

She didn’t reply.

I raised myself till my neck was level with the couch. Her head was turned to the side, tilted up at the Star of David.

“Were you aware before the first time I was with you?” I questioned.

Again, no answer.

“Say something!”

“Look,” she said turning her head towards me, her eyelids like buckets of water preparing to overflow, “I did know and—”

“In the event of,” I rudely interrupted, “would you keep it?” “Birth wouldn’t outlast the cancer.”

“So. . . no?”

“I’d prefer to leave this life with a piece of you within me!”

“That’s murder!”

“And abortion is not?”

I fell silent and wished desperately for the ability to rewind the day, deeply regretting not remaining in bed.

“And this fantasy of yours is supposed to justify murder?” I continued after a tense silence.

“Who are you to speak for what goes on in my body? The fate of whoever is developing within me is no ones but my own.”

I fell silent and fell against the carpet. I looked up at the star atop the tree then shifted my gaze to the digital time on the cable box below the TV. Mass would end in ten minutes; if I sprinted, I’d be able to make it in time for a single prayer. . . and I’d pray for two.

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[joannrochaus]

Waiting for the Mueller Report and examining five cultural lies: Is your Savior your Lord?

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America is waiting for the redacted version of the Mueller Report to be published later this morning. We will not be able to read the report in its entirety since it contains information that was presented to a grand jury and is therefore subject to secrecy rules.

In addition, intelligence officials will redact information that could compromise sensitive sources and methods or hamper other current investigations. And the Justice Department will redact information it believes unfairly infringes on the privacy of “peripheral third parties” and damages their reputations.

What difference, then, will the report make?

Not much in the minds of most voters, apparently. A recent survey found that the report “may not change the minds of many Americans about the president. Barring a bombshell revelation, voters are likely to view the report through the prism of their partisan identities.”

Five lies that explain our culture

Pick a subject, from the president to abortion to gender identity to the environment. Can you think of a single significant issue on which Americans are largely agreed?

Waiting for the Mueller Report and examining five cultural lies: Is your Savior your Lord?https://t.co/AcjAP92Grd pic.twitter.com/dyqgfTlvd7

— Jim Denison (@JimDenison) April 18, 2019

What is causing our nation’s cultural divides to grow ever deeper and more vitriolic?

Writing for the New York Times, columnist David Brooks offers some diagnoses of our cultural condition that merit significant attention and personal application. His bottom line: “We’ve created a culture based on lies.” Five of them, to be specific.

Here they are:

One: Career success is fulfilling.

Brooks notes that such success “alone does not provide positive peace or fulfillment. If you build your life around it, your ambitions will always race out in front of what you’ve achieved, leaving you anxious and dissatisfied.”

Two: I can make myself happy.

This is the lie of self-sufficiency and the deception that happiness is an individual accomplishment. By contrast, “happiness is found amid thick and loving relationships. It is found by defeating self-sufficiency for a state of mutual dependence. It is found in the giving and receiving of care.”

Three: Life is an individual journey.

People who live best invest in people and community. Then, “by planting themselves in one neighborhood, one organization or one mission, they earn trust. They have the freedom to make a lasting difference. It’s the chains we choose that set us free.”

Four: You have to find your own truth.

According to Brooks, “The reality is that values are created and passed down by strong, self-confident communities and institutions.”

Five: Rich and successful people are worth more than poorer and less successful people.

This lie claims that “you are what you accomplish” and that “if you perform well, people will love you.”

Brooks concludes: “No wonder our society is fragmenting. We’ve taken the lies of hyper-individualism and we’ve made them the unspoken assumptions that govern how we live.

“We talk a lot about the political revolution we need. The cultural revolution is more important.”

The spiritual revolution we need

I agree completely. But I also believe that behind such a cultural revolution lies a spiritual revolution we need even more.

Today is Maundy Thursday. Tonight, Jesus will pray in the Garden of Gethsemane so fervently that his sweat will become “like great drops of blood falling to the ground” (Luke 22:44). This night he will choose to take our collective sins on his sinless soul and die in our place as our atoning sacrifice.

What happened in the Garden of Gethsemane is the remedy for what happened in the Garden of Eden.

What happened in the Garden of Gethsemane is the remedy for what happened in the Garden of Eden. There, humanity believed the lie that we can “be like God” (Genesis 3:5). That lie is the foundation of every lie David Brooks exposed and every temptation we face.

It is the lie that we have the right to choose whether unborn children live or die, that we can decide our gender and view pornography and have sex outside of heterosexual marriage and ignore the poor without consequence. It is the lie that our lies aren’t lies, that truth is what we say it is and God is who we believe him to be.

If we could experience abundant life in any way except through the cross, the Father would not have sent his Son to Calvary to be tortured and executed.

Jesus’ death reveals the lie behind our cultural lies. If we could experience abundant life in any way except through the cross, the Father would not have sent his Son to Calvary to be tortured and executed. If we could be fulfilled and happy without God—if we could do life on our own, find our own truth, and do enough to be truly significant—Jesus would have made a different choice in Gethsemane.

Choosing Eden or Gethsemane

I invite you to reread David Brooks’ list and see whether you’re living by any of the lies he exposes. Then I invite you to choose a Garden: Eden or Gethsemane.

Will you be your own God today? Or will you make your Savior your Lord? Will you submit your day to his Spirit and serve him in gratitude for his grace?

Which Garden would God say you inhabited yesterday?

Which do you choose today?

The post Waiting for the Mueller Report and examining five cultural lies: Is your Savior your Lord? appeared first on Denison Forum.

source https://www.denisonforum.org/columns/daily-article/waiting-for-the-mueller-report-and-examining-five-cultural-lies-is-your-savior-your-lord/ source https://denisonforum.tumblr.com/post/184270431477

[denisonforum]

Waiting for the Mueller Report and examining five cultural lies: Is your Savior your Lord?

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America is waiting for the redacted version of the Mueller Report to be published later this morning. We will not be able to read the report in its entirety since it contains information that was presented to a grand jury and is therefore subject to secrecy rules.

In addition, intelligence officials will redact information that could compromise sensitive sources and methods or hamper other current investigations. And the Justice Department will redact information it believes unfairly infringes on the privacy of “peripheral third parties” and damages their reputations.

What difference, then, will the report make?

Not much in the minds of most voters, apparently. A recent survey found that the report “may not change the minds of many Americans about the president. Barring a bombshell revelation, voters are likely to view the report through the prism of their partisan identities.”

Five lies that explain our culture

Pick a subject, from the president to abortion to gender identity to the environment. Can you think of a single significant issue on which Americans are largely agreed?

Waiting for the Mueller Report and examining five cultural lies: Is your Savior your Lord?https://t.co/AcjAP92Grd pic.twitter.com/dyqgfTlvd7

— Jim Denison (@JimDenison) April 18, 2019

What is causing our nation’s cultural divides to grow ever deeper and more vitriolic?

Writing for the New York Times, columnist David Brooks offers some diagnoses of our cultural condition that merit significant attention and personal application. His bottom line: “We’ve created a culture based on lies.” Five of them, to be specific.

Here they are:

One: Career success is fulfilling.

Brooks notes that such success “alone does not provide positive peace or fulfillment. If you build your life around it, your ambitions will always race out in front of what you’ve achieved, leaving you anxious and dissatisfied.”

Two: I can make myself happy.

This is the lie of self-sufficiency and the deception that happiness is an individual accomplishment. By contrast, “happiness is found amid thick and loving relationships. It is found by defeating self-sufficiency for a state of mutual dependence. It is found in the giving and receiving of care.”

Three: Life is an individual journey.

People who live best invest in people and community. Then, “by planting themselves in one neighborhood, one organization or one mission, they earn trust. They have the freedom to make a lasting difference. It’s the chains we choose that set us free.”

Four: You have to find your own truth.

According to Brooks, “The reality is that values are created and passed down by strong, self-confident communities and institutions.”

Five: Rich and successful people are worth more than poorer and less successful people.

This lie claims that “you are what you accomplish” and that “if you perform well, people will love you.”

Brooks concludes: “No wonder our society is fragmenting. We’ve taken the lies of hyper-individualism and we’ve made them the unspoken assumptions that govern how we live.

“We talk a lot about the political revolution we need. The cultural revolution is more important.”

The spiritual revolution we need

I agree completely. But I also believe that behind such a cultural revolution lies a spiritual revolution we need even more.

Today is Maundy Thursday. Tonight, Jesus will pray in the Garden of Gethsemane so fervently that his sweat will become “like great drops of blood falling to the ground” (Luke 22:44). This night he will choose to take our collective sins on his sinless soul and die in our place as our atoning sacrifice.

What happened in the Garden of Gethsemane is the remedy for what happened in the Garden of Eden.

What happened in the Garden of Gethsemane is the remedy for what happened in the Garden of Eden. There, humanity believed the lie that we can “be like God” (Genesis 3:5). That lie is the foundation of every lie David Brooks exposed and every temptation we face.

It is the lie that we have the right to choose whether unborn children live or die, that we can decide our gender and view pornography and have sex outside of heterosexual marriage and ignore the poor without consequence. It is the lie that our lies aren’t lies, that truth is what we say it is and God is who we believe him to be.

If we could experience abundant life in any way except through the cross, the Father would not have sent his Son to Calvary to be tortured and executed.

Jesus’ death reveals the lie behind our cultural lies. If we could experience abundant life in any way except through the cross, the Father would not have sent his Son to Calvary to be tortured and executed. If we could be fulfilled and happy without God—if we could do life on our own, find our own truth, and do enough to be truly significant—Jesus would have made a different choice in Gethsemane.

Choosing Eden or Gethsemane

I invite you to reread David Brooks’ list and see whether you’re living by any of the lies he exposes. Then I invite you to choose a Garden: Eden or Gethsemane.

Will you be your own God today? Or will you make your Savior your Lord? Will you submit your day to his Spirit and serve him in gratitude for his grace?

Which Garden would God say you inhabited yesterday?

Which do you choose today?

The post Waiting for the Mueller Report and examining five cultural lies: Is your Savior your Lord? appeared first on Denison Forum.

source https://www.denisonforum.org/columns/daily-article/waiting-for-the-mueller-report-and-examining-five-cultural-lies-is-your-savior-your-lord/

[xthewanderess]

Eight months ago, I compiled a list of things I wanted to do before I turned 21… While I didn’t complete all of those things, I completed quite a few of them!

1. Skydive

Check! January 21st I made the big leap- from a plane, 10,000 feet in the sky. It was amazing!

2. Leave the country

On July 16th, I left the United States for the first time and visited India and England, and it was probably the best decision I have ever made.

3. Learn more about my state

I explored new pubs, found a hidden walking trail, and explored the quirky neighborhood in town!

4. Zip line- again!

This is not one I did, but I aim to do it this summer!

5. Start a travel blog

Check this one off the list ’cause you’re currently reading it!

6. Learn a new language

In India, I took three Hindi lessons, and I am currently taking French!

7. Road trip

I road tripped to Nashville back in April!

8. Finish writing a novel

This I have yet to do, but I have started on a few things. Really my goal has been to finish and hopefully publish one by 22.

9. Eat my weight in pub food

Check! Pub food might be my absolute favorite type of food! I just love the atmosphere.

10. Make a travel vlog.

Check! I have made a few of these, actually! Check them out on youtube!

11. Visit Warner Brothers for the Harry Potter Studio tour in London, England

Checked this off in August, and it was literally amazing!

12. Bungee Jump

This one I was very skeptical about and didn’t actually do, but I will (hopefully) be doing this in the summer!

13. Visit Waverly Hills Sanitarium

Another one that I didn’t get around to doing, but, as I live near by, I will hopefully get to do it this year!

14. Go without social media for a week

/gasp. A whole week?!? Yeah. I did it. It was nice, but I also missed looking at all the travel blogs/vlogs. I also found myself playing more pointless games on my phone ( Frozen Mania, Temple Run, etc ), but it also made me realize that as a whole, we are all consumed by our technology. That leads me to our next one…

15. Enjoy a moment without having to document it

While I documented a lot of my trip to India and England, I made sure to just take a few minutes to enjoy life while there.

16. Read a book (FOR FUN) a month

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes (so excited for the movie, too!) The Girl You Left Behind by Jojo Moyes The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath The Virgin Suicides by Jeffery Eugenides The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins Girls Who Travel by Nicole Trilivas World of Wanderlust by Brooke Saward (my favorite travel blogger!) The Shining by Stephen King (currently reading!)

17. Try something new

I went skydiving, road an elephant, road a camel, left the country…

18. Volunteer

I spent one week in India volunteering with the International Volunteer Headquarters (IVHQ).

19. Pass my uni classes

Passed both semesters of school in 2016; in the Spring I only was a part time student (three classes), and in the Fall I was a full time student (five classes).

20. Use every Lush Bath Bomb

When I moved out of my parents’ home, I lost a bathtub… so, alas, I did not complete this one. Mini-Lush Bucket List:

The Experimenter Intergalactic Guardian of the Forest Frozen Rose Bombshell Sex Bomb Dragon’s Egg Tisty Toasty Sakura Fizzbanger Pooh Stix (UK exclusive.) Hot Java (also a UK exclusive.) 6 out of 12. 1/2 way!

21. Just enjoy life

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As basic as this one is, it was honestly all I could ask for. Even if I didn’t complete everything on this list, I am proud to see that I have at least been enjoying myself so far. Working at developing my blog, heading overseas, planning my next trip abroad, exploring my state… it’s all been pretty awesome so far, and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for 2017.

16 out of 21 completed- not bad! On top of what I did complete, I moved out of my parents’ home, took a spontaneous day trip to Jaipur in India, and spent one night in New York City!

Stay tuned to see what else I accomplish in 2017!

xoxo The Wanderess

’21 Things Before 21′ — I’m 21! Eight months ago, I compiled a list of things I wanted to do before I turned 21...