Podcasts about mustering

"Mustering up the courage to start drinking", and sad animal movies. Oregon takes care of business against Montana State. Danny declares Arch Manning's Heisman campaign over. Florida State manhandled Alabama.

"Mustering up the courage to start drinking", plus... sad animal movies. Oregon takes care of business against Montana State. Is Arch Manning's Heisman campaign over? Florida State manhandles Alabama. New AP Top-25 poll. Which was the best college football game of the weekend? Pac-12 After Dark. Lee Corso's grand send-off. Texas vs Ohio State was very disappointing. Are your Natty picks already dead?

Ever considered using a drone on your farm? Well, this is the podcast for you. This week, our guest is Luke Chaplain, founder of SkyKelpie. Luke is one of the leading experts in drone mustering in Australia and has spent the last three years researching drone technology to find the best fits for Agricultural use. More recently, Luke has gotten involved in the training of drone usage, to give farmers and other industries the necessary tools for effective drone usage. One of these tools is their latest offering, "SkySim", a simulation to help improve drone piloting skills across all sectors.To find out more about SkyKelpie, you can visit their website here: https://www.skykelpie.com/skysimHead Shepherd is brought to you by neXtgen Agri International Limited. We help livestock farmers get the most out of the genetics they farm with. Get in touch with us if you would like to hear more about how we can help you do what you do best: info@nextgenagri.com.Thanks to our sponsors at MSD Animal Health and Allflex, and Heiniger Australia and New Zealand. Please consider them when making product choices, as they are instrumental in enabling us to bring you this podcast each week.Check out Heiniger's product range HERECheck out the MSD range HERECheck out Allflex products HERE

If you've ever spiralled after a mistake, ran to the bathroom to cry after a meeting, or deleted a reel because it didn't feel “perfect,” this episode will give you both the tools and the emotional permission to come back stronger.This one also gives you a bit of a fresh take on perfectionism and may help you reframe yours into something more positive.I'm back with beloved guest Gina Phillips (CBC, The Last Of Us, Reacher, Ghosts) who is the real-life embodiment of bounce-back energy, for a raw, hilarious, and practical conversation about navigating high-pressure moments in life and business.You'll hear about:The coughing attack heard across Canada and what it taught Gina about grace under fireWhy perfectionism isn't the flex entrepreneurs think it is—and what to focus on insteadHow to recover from business and content failures faster, even if you're not yet the most perfect “enlightened” version of yourselfThe mindset shift that will make you stronger on social media and in scary sales-related situationsA deeply relatable story about pop music class, failure, and resilience in the face of embarrassment

 A wife surrenders her clothes during treasure hunt. By sharedare. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. One of my hubby's closest buddies had flown in from Phoenix to spend the weekend with us. Jay and Hubby had grown up together and, up until a few years ago, the two had always lived in the same neighborhood. Moving up the corporate ladder eventually required Jay to relocate to Arizona, but he and hubby had remained as close as ever.It was Friday night, and the three of us were enjoying a casual evening of wine and conversation. As the night wore on, we somehow ended up talking about jewelry, and my desire to upgrade the diamond in my wedding ring. Hubby and I had often discussed the idea of upgrading to a full karat. Unfortunately, the price had always been more than we could reasonably afford. And so went the discussion that night, only this time it included Jay. I had consumed just enough wine to make me a little goofy, so I wasn't too surprised by myself when I remarked to hubby and Jay that I should work the streets for a day or two to raise money for my diamond. Both Jay and hubby were all for the idea, urging me to hop into a mini-skirt and get to work. Jay said I definitely had the body for it. We all laughed and soon the conversation turned to other topics. The following day, hubby and Jay were up and out of the house early, heading downtown on what they described as a “secret mission”. Although they returned home about six hours later, they refused to divulge the purpose of their trip. It seemed as though we were going to spend our Saturday night, as we had the previous night, sampling a new collection of California wines, feasting on barbecue, and otherwise enjoying the warm night air. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me, except that hubby wasn't partaking in any wine, claiming that he had a slight upset stomach. I should have been more suspicious, especially since his upset stomach didn't seem to affect his appetite for steak. At about 10pm, having already consumed quite a few glasses of wine, Jay and hubby finally sprung their surprise on me. They said they had decided to split the cost of a one-karat diamond for me, but that I had to agree to play a little game in order to “win” my jewel. I didn't know exactly what to expect, but I decided to hear them out on their plan. Jay explained that he and hubby had purchased a gift card with which I could purchase my diamond. He went on to say that all I had to do was go on a treasure hunt to find four purple marbles. Hubby chimed in and said that he and Jay had hidden the marbles in four separate locations, and that they would drive me to each location and tell me where to retrieve each marble. Before I could ask what the catch was, Jay, an impish grin on his face, explained that I would be required to leave one article of clothing behind in exchange for each marble. He also said that, to play the game, I had to limit myself to only four pieces of clothing, not including my shoes. And my shoes, he explained, had to be the highest-heeled footwear I owned. I continued sipping my wine as I considered the offer made by these two screwballs. I really didn't mind Jay seeing me in my birthday suit, but I wasn't sure just how adventurous this game was going to be. Neither hubby nor Jay would give me any clues on the locations of the marbles, but they did emphasize that if I didn't retrieve all the marbles, or if I failed to leave an article of clothing at each discovery site, they would cash in the card and get their money back. In the end, the wine gave me the courage I needed to take them up on their dare. After donning a t-shirt, gym shorts, and a pair of four-inch high-heeled black boots, we headed off to town (town, by the way, is Reno, Nevada). I demanded that no photos or video be taken. Reno is a small city and believe me, word gets around. I locked up their phones and mine in a small lock box and slid it under my front passenger seat. Jay sat in the back while hubby drove. Our first destination was a Bartley Ranch Park on the south outskirts of town. It was fairly close to our neighborhood. As I peered out the window from my seat, I could see that the park was fairly well lighted, and only a few people seemed to be in the area. From the back seat, Jay handed me a 3X5 card that told me that I could find my first marble taped underneath the picnic table located under a gazebo, close to the river. Looking across the park, I could see the river running along the opposite side of the park from the parking lot. Mustering up some courage, I opened the door and headed out across the grass. The picnic table I was looking for was about 100 yards from the car, and the only other people in the park were off to the side. Finding and retrieving the marble was no problem at all, but I hesitated when it came time to pull off my shirt. I looked around the park and saw that nobody seemed to be paying any attention to me. Taking in a deep breath, I pulled off my shirt, tossed it under the table, and started off back to hubby, Jay, and the security of our car. I had decided that it would be better to walk quickly, than run and bring extra attention to myself. Besides, as athletic as I was, the 4″ heels and my tipsy champagne-induced condition would likely result in a nasty spill, drawing even more attention, if not intervention. About halfway across the grass, the sound of a few catcalls made me pick up my pace a bit. The warm summer air felt good and I guess I was more worried about getting mugged than being seen in my bra. I nearly stumbled when my heels caught a clump of grass. Jay and hubby were both applauding and cheering as I reentered the car. I played it cool, and didn't let on how nervous I was. Besides, we were already moving on to our second destination. Hubby next wheeled the car into a parking spot on the side of a gas station/convenience store. At first I thought they would tell me to actually go inside the store, so I was relieved when the card Jay handed me directed me to walk around to the back of the building, enter the women's restroom, and retrieve my marble from inside the hand towel dispenser. Looking around and seeing nobody near us, I slipped out of the car and made my way around the building. Thankfully, nobody was there and I quickly stepped into the restroom. Popping open the dispenser, I grabbed my marble and replaced it with my gym shorts. Standing in the bathroom in my bra and panties, I cracked open the door to find that the coast was clear. Seeing it was, I headed back to the security of the car.   As I had rounded the corner of the building, I saw there was a guy pumping gas. Distracted by my plight, I again almost took a spill as I stepped off the curb in those damned heels, resulting in an ungracious public ‘titty-wiggle' in front of the car. Jay and hubby were cheering as I jumped into the front seat.  but the guy pumping gas had his back to me, so my trip went undetected. Once settled back in the car, Jay popped open a bottle of champagne and poured us each a glass. He said that he thought I could use a little more “courage” to prepare for the final two stages of the great treasure hunt. As we sat in the parking lot sipping champagne, a van pulled in alongside us, on my side of the car. The driver, an older man, definitely did the “double take” as he stepped past my window. I actually considered flashing one of my tits at him, but he turned and made his way into the store before I could. Jay and hubby chuckled as we backed out and headed off for destination number three. On the way, hubby reached over and began rubbing my pussy through my panties. I didn't realize how sexually aroused I had become with the night's antics until his hand touched my little red beaver. It was then that I realized I was already wet, and getting wetter by the second. While momentarily stopped at an intersection, Jay reached over the seatback and began massaging my breasts. We had never included Jay in any of our sexual adventures, so I was a bit surprised at his boldness. But I didn't object. It all felt very erotic, and I could feel that I was well on my way to an orgasm. I was so distracted, that it took me a moment to realize that a muni bus had pulled up alongside us. The intersection was well lighted and the driver had to be able to see everything going on in the car. Still, I didn't try to stop hubby and Jay from continuing to paw at me. We quickly moved off as the light changed, no doubt leaving the bus driver with some great images to get through the rest of his shift with. Our third destination was at Keystone Square shopping mall. Hubby parked the car in a donut shop parking lot, next to a bank. The mall was closed and we were the only car in the parking lot. Once again, Jay handed me a card, which directed me to retrieve my marble from the side of the ATM located in front of the bank. Exiting the car, I made my way across the asphalt lot and 5 drive-thru lanes, to reach the bank. Again, the marble was easy to locate. After confirming that there was nobody around, I slipped off my bra, freeing my c-cup titties from their restraints. I thought to myself, some bank guy is going to get a great boob shot when he reviews the surveillance videos that I know protect most ATM's. Crossing back over the drive-thru lanes, wearing only panties and high-heels, I was really starting to get brave (or maybe just drunk). Instead of immediately returning to the car, I stopped and waived to Jay and hubby. I even turned around, bent over, and flashed a ‘moon' at the two. My daring behavior was suddenly rewarded when the mall security guy came around the corner in his little pickup truck. I had barely stepped out onto the drive-thru when he pulled up to me and stopped. All I could see was the shadow of a head behind the steering wheel. I thought about trying to cover up, but it was useless. Instead, I smiled and waved, and continued across the lot to the car. Since I was no longer on bank property, the guard never said a word, he just watched me slide into the car, and drive away.  Public exposure is still a violation of city ordinances. Add to that a public drunkenness misdemeanor, and I was risking a night in the county lockup. Both the guys were laughing and cheering as we drove off. Once again, Jay handed me more champagne as we sped along to our final destination. This part of the journey took us to the other side of town. I am sure that at least a dozen drivers got an eyeful as they spied my bare boobies through the passenger window. Jay seemed to relish in the parade. He definitely seemed to like driving in the inside lane. By then I was really feeling the buzz of the champagne. Working our way to the north side of the city, hubby eventually pulled onto 8th street where it paralleled the highway. Hubby pulled over and parked on the left side, right on the corner of Sierra & 8th. The street was actually elevated above the highway and Sierra Avenue passed over the highway without the usual high arched overpass. Looking around, I could not see any obvious locations where my two tormentors would have concealed the fourth and final marble. Jay tapped on my shoulder and handed me the last card. The card directed me to cross south, over the entire overpass and recover the marble, which was taped underneath the handrail on the opposite side of the overpass. I looked across the overpass and saw that it spanned 6 highway lanes plus a large median. It had to be at least 150 yards to the other side. I tried to consider my options at this point, pondering whether or not I could make the round-trip trek without being seen, and knowing that the return trip would be without a stitch of clothing. Both Jay and hubby had a hopeful look in their faces that told me they would both blow their wads before I returned to the car, if I had the guts to get that last marble. Swallowing the remnants of my champagne, I resolved to get the last marble and win my new diamond. It was well past midnight and traffic on the highway seemed light. The streets immediately around us seemed completely devoid of any foot or vehicle traffic. I had plenty of liquid courage to back me up, and I was incredibly turned on by the prospect of walking the streets of Reno naked for a quarter mile, round trip. I reached over and grabbed hubby's crotch, gave it a squeeze, and told him he better be ready to “put out” when I got back. The bastard already had a hard-on, and his face was consumed by a wide grin. With a final look around the area, I stepped out of the car and started my trek across the overpass. My gait was swift, and the night air had cooled, causing my nipples to stiffen, and stand out so far you could hang a coat on each nipple. The walk across seemed endless, but finally I made it to the other side without incident. Once again, the marble was exactly where the card said it would be. After freeing the marble from the tape, I stepped out of my panties and hung them on the end of the railing. Now it was time for the return trip. As you might imagine, there was absolutely no concealment on the overpass. I was naked and completely exposed to anyone who might drive or walk by. But I held the final purple marble in my hand! It was soon to be replaced with a huge diamond, and that pleasurable thought led to a sudden outburst of dancing, high on the bridge overlooking 8 lanes of well-lit urban highway. The night air tingled as it slid past my exposed pussy lips. My thick red-haired bush was already wet from the evening's antics, and hubby's skilled fingers. Nearing the halfway point on the overpass, I realized a taxi had just turned onto the avenue two blocks up, and coming my way. But there was nothing I could do. There was nowhere to hide, and nothing to cover myself up with. As the taxi neared, I could feel myself trembling – a combination of fear and sexual pleasure. I decided to just keep walking proudly, no matter what. The taxi sped along towards me at a normal speed; until the driver realized what he was seeing in his headlights. He almost locked up the breaks as he slowed to get a better look. I flipped him a glance, smiled, and just kept walking. I could feel the juices flowing from my pussy, a trickle even found its way down the inside of my leg. I thought for a moment that the driver would stop and jump out of his cab, but instead, after a thorough observation he continued on his way, no doubt with happier thoughts on his mind. I had been focusing on the taxi cab, which seemed to take several minutes yet was only about 20 seconds; and in doing so, I had not realized that there were suddenly now some pedestrians on the bridge ahead of me. Straining to look ahead, it appeared as though a man and woman were approaching. All I could tell was that they were holding hands. My heart really began to race as I closed on the couple, my swaying tits waving happily at them. What would they do or say? The couple turned out to be two college-aged kids. When they saw me, they stopped dead in their tracks and watched me approach. While the young man seemed to be absorbed with staring at my pussy, the girl incredulously asked what I was doing. I paused long enough to explain that I was responding to a dare from my hubby. Champagne certainly does wonders for one's courage. The couple seemed duly impressed, so off I walked, leaving the couple standing on the bridge behind me, watching my ass jiggle as I walked away. By the time I reached the car, a bus could have driven by and I wouldn't have batted an eyelash. I was so horny and pumped up when I got into the car, I would have let hubby spread me across the hood of the car and make love to me right there on the street, if he would have suggested it. Instead, we took off southward and went downtown to the Reno Arch. This 5th stop was my idea, because I wanted a photo to commemorate this night. I had the pleasure of further exposing myself to other motorists, as my clothes were now spread the length of Reno. I was now reasonably drunk and I wanted something to remember my diamond quest by. I retrieved my phone & handed it to Jay as hubby was approaching Virginia Avenue along Commercial Row. We turned left & pulled over just north of the Downtown Reno Arch. As I got out, walked around the front of the car, then into the road & walked toward the famous neon sign which spans over the downtown street. Jay snapped several pics in rapid succession, Tourists under the arch started looking at me and whistling, so I waved. Within 20 seconds Jay said he had plenty of good pics, so I darted back in my front seat and hubby took us home. Hubby and Jay continued to play with me, keeping me insanely horny until we got home. What happened after that is another story. It suffices to say that, in addition to experiencing one of the most erotic public-nudity adventures of my life, I also won my new diamond, which will always remind me of my “night of nudity” in Reno!   By sharedare, for Literotica

 A wife surrenders her clothes during treasure hunt. By sharedare. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. One of my hubby's closest buddies had flown in from Phoenix to spend the weekend with us. Jay and Hubby had grown up together and, up until a few years ago, the two had always lived in the same neighborhood. Moving up the corporate ladder eventually required Jay to relocate to Arizona, but he and hubby had remained as close as ever.It was Friday night, and the three of us were enjoying a casual evening of wine and conversation. As the night wore on, we somehow ended up talking about jewelry, and my desire to upgrade the diamond in my wedding ring. Hubby and I had often discussed the idea of upgrading to a full karat. Unfortunately, the price had always been more than we could reasonably afford. And so went the discussion that night, only this time it included Jay. I had consumed just enough wine to make me a little goofy, so I wasn't too surprised by myself when I remarked to hubby and Jay that I should work the streets for a day or two to raise money for my diamond. Both Jay and hubby were all for the idea, urging me to hop into a mini-skirt and get to work. Jay said I definitely had the body for it. We all laughed and soon the conversation turned to other topics. The following day, hubby and Jay were up and out of the house early, heading downtown on what they described as a “secret mission”. Although they returned home about six hours later, they refused to divulge the purpose of their trip. It seemed as though we were going to spend our Saturday night, as we had the previous night, sampling a new collection of California wines, feasting on barbecue, and otherwise enjoying the warm night air. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me, except that hubby wasn't partaking in any wine, claiming that he had a slight upset stomach. I should have been more suspicious, especially since his upset stomach didn't seem to affect his appetite for steak. At about 10pm, having already consumed quite a few glasses of wine, Jay and hubby finally sprung their surprise on me. They said they had decided to split the cost of a one-karat diamond for me, but that I had to agree to play a little game in order to “win” my jewel. I didn't know exactly what to expect, but I decided to hear them out on their plan. Jay explained that he and hubby had purchased a gift card with which I could purchase my diamond. He went on to say that all I had to do was go on a treasure hunt to find four purple marbles. Hubby chimed in and said that he and Jay had hidden the marbles in four separate locations, and that they would drive me to each location and tell me where to retrieve each marble. Before I could ask what the catch was, Jay, an impish grin on his face, explained that I would be required to leave one article of clothing behind in exchange for each marble. He also said that, to play the game, I had to limit myself to only four pieces of clothing, not including my shoes. And my shoes, he explained, had to be the highest-heeled footwear I owned. I continued sipping my wine as I considered the offer made by these two screwballs. I really didn't mind Jay seeing me in my birthday suit, but I wasn't sure just how adventurous this game was going to be. Neither hubby nor Jay would give me any clues on the locations of the marbles, but they did emphasize that if I didn't retrieve all the marbles, or if I failed to leave an article of clothing at each discovery site, they would cash in the card and get their money back. In the end, the wine gave me the courage I needed to take them up on their dare. After donning a t-shirt, gym shorts, and a pair of four-inch high-heeled black boots, we headed off to town (town, by the way, is Reno, Nevada). I demanded that no photos or video be taken. Reno is a small city and believe me, word gets around. I locked up their phones and mine in a small lock box and slid it under my front passenger seat. Jay sat in the back while hubby drove. Our first destination was a Bartley Ranch Park on the south outskirts of town. It was fairly close to our neighborhood. As I peered out the window from my seat, I could see that the park was fairly well lighted, and only a few people seemed to be in the area. From the back seat, Jay handed me a 3X5 card that told me that I could find my first marble taped underneath the picnic table located under a gazebo, close to the river. Looking across the park, I could see the river running along the opposite side of the park from the parking lot. Mustering up some courage, I opened the door and headed out across the grass. The picnic table I was looking for was about 100 yards from the car, and the only other people in the park were off to the side. Finding and retrieving the marble was no problem at all, but I hesitated when it came time to pull off my shirt. I looked around the park and saw that nobody seemed to be paying any attention to me. Taking in a deep breath, I pulled off my shirt, tossed it under the table, and started off back to hubby, Jay, and the security of our car. I had decided that it would be better to walk quickly, than run and bring extra attention to myself. Besides, as athletic as I was, the 4″ heels and my tipsy champagne-induced condition would likely result in a nasty spill, drawing even more attention, if not intervention. About halfway across the grass, the sound of a few catcalls made me pick up my pace a bit. The warm summer air felt good and I guess I was more worried about getting mugged than being seen in my bra. I nearly stumbled when my heels caught a clump of grass. Jay and hubby were both applauding and cheering as I reentered the car. I played it cool, and didn't let on how nervous I was. Besides, we were already moving on to our second destination. Hubby next wheeled the car into a parking spot on the side of a gas station/convenience store. At first I thought they would tell me to actually go inside the store, so I was relieved when the card Jay handed me directed me to walk around to the back of the building, enter the women's restroom, and retrieve my marble from inside the hand towel dispenser. Looking around and seeing nobody near us, I slipped out of the car and made my way around the building. Thankfully, nobody was there and I quickly stepped into the restroom. Popping open the dispenser, I grabbed my marble and replaced it with my gym shorts. Standing in the bathroom in my bra and panties, I cracked open the door to find that the coast was clear. Seeing it was, I headed back to the security of the car.   As I had rounded the corner of the building, I saw there was a guy pumping gas. Distracted by my plight, I again almost took a spill as I stepped off the curb in those damned heels, resulting in an ungracious public ‘titty-wiggle' in front of the car. Jay and hubby were cheering as I jumped into the front seat.  but the guy pumping gas had his back to me, so my trip went undetected. Once settled back in the car, Jay popped open a bottle of champagne and poured us each a glass. He said that he thought I could use a little more “courage” to prepare for the final two stages of the great treasure hunt. As we sat in the parking lot sipping champagne, a van pulled in alongside us, on my side of the car. The driver, an older man, definitely did the “double take” as he stepped past my window. I actually considered flashing one of my tits at him, but he turned and made his way into the store before I could. Jay and hubby chuckled as we backed out and headed off for destination number three. On the way, hubby reached over and began rubbing my pussy through my panties. I didn't realize how sexually aroused I had become with the night's antics until his hand touched my little red beaver. It was then that I realized I was already wet, and getting wetter by the second. While momentarily stopped at an intersection, Jay reached over the seatback and began massaging my breasts. We had never included Jay in any of our sexual adventures, so I was a bit surprised at his boldness. But I didn't object. It all felt very erotic, and I could feel that I was well on my way to an orgasm. I was so distracted, that it took me a moment to realize that a muni bus had pulled up alongside us. The intersection was well lighted and the driver had to be able to see everything going on in the car. Still, I didn't try to stop hubby and Jay from continuing to paw at me. We quickly moved off as the light changed, no doubt leaving the bus driver with some great images to get through the rest of his shift with. Our third destination was at Keystone Square shopping mall. Hubby parked the car in a donut shop parking lot, next to a bank. The mall was closed and we were the only car in the parking lot. Once again, Jay handed me a card, which directed me to retrieve my marble from the side of the ATM located in front of the bank. Exiting the car, I made my way across the asphalt lot and 5 drive-thru lanes, to reach the bank. Again, the marble was easy to locate. After confirming that there was nobody around, I slipped off my bra, freeing my c-cup titties from their restraints. I thought to myself, some bank guy is going to get a great boob shot when he reviews the surveillance videos that I know protect most ATM's. Crossing back over the drive-thru lanes, wearing only panties and high-heels, I was really starting to get brave (or maybe just drunk). Instead of immediately returning to the car, I stopped and waived to Jay and hubby. I even turned around, bent over, and flashed a ‘moon' at the two. My daring behavior was suddenly rewarded when the mall security guy came around the corner in his little pickup truck. I had barely stepped out onto the drive-thru when he pulled up to me and stopped. All I could see was the shadow of a head behind the steering wheel. I thought about trying to cover up, but it was useless. Instead, I smiled and waved, and continued across the lot to the car. Since I was no longer on bank property, the guard never said a word, he just watched me slide into the car, and drive away.  Public exposure is still a violation of city ordinances. Add to that a public drunkenness misdemeanor, and I was risking a night in the county lockup. Both the guys were laughing and cheering as we drove off. Once again, Jay handed me more champagne as we sped along to our final destination. This part of the journey took us to the other side of town. I am sure that at least a dozen drivers got an eyeful as they spied my bare boobies through the passenger window. Jay seemed to relish in the parade. He definitely seemed to like driving in the inside lane. By then I was really feeling the buzz of the champagne. Working our way to the north side of the city, hubby eventually pulled onto 8th street where it paralleled the highway. Hubby pulled over and parked on the left side, right on the corner of Sierra & 8th. The street was actually elevated above the highway and Sierra Avenue passed over the highway without the usual high arched overpass. Looking around, I could not see any obvious locations where my two tormentors would have concealed the fourth and final marble. Jay tapped on my shoulder and handed me the last card. The card directed me to cross south, over the entire overpass and recover the marble, which was taped underneath the handrail on the opposite side of the overpass. I looked across the overpass and saw that it spanned 6 highway lanes plus a large median. It had to be at least 150 yards to the other side. I tried to consider my options at this point, pondering whether or not I could make the round-trip trek without being seen, and knowing that the return trip would be without a stitch of clothing. Both Jay and hubby had a hopeful look in their faces that told me they would both blow their wads before I returned to the car, if I had the guts to get that last marble. Swallowing the remnants of my champagne, I resolved to get the last marble and win my new diamond. It was well past midnight and traffic on the highway seemed light. The streets immediately around us seemed completely devoid of any foot or vehicle traffic. I had plenty of liquid courage to back me up, and I was incredibly turned on by the prospect of walking the streets of Reno naked for a quarter mile, round trip. I reached over and grabbed hubby's crotch, gave it a squeeze, and told him he better be ready to “put out” when I got back. The bastard already had a hard-on, and his face was consumed by a wide grin. With a final look around the area, I stepped out of the car and started my trek across the overpass. My gait was swift, and the night air had cooled, causing my nipples to stiffen, and stand out so far you could hang a coat on each nipple. The walk across seemed endless, but finally I made it to the other side without incident. Once again, the marble was exactly where the card said it would be. After freeing the marble from the tape, I stepped out of my panties and hung them on the end of the railing. Now it was time for the return trip. As you might imagine, there was absolutely no concealment on the overpass. I was naked and completely exposed to anyone who might drive or walk by. But I held the final purple marble in my hand! It was soon to be replaced with a huge diamond, and that pleasurable thought led to a sudden outburst of dancing, high on the bridge overlooking 8 lanes of well-lit urban highway. The night air tingled as it slid past my exposed pussy lips. My thick red-haired bush was already wet from the evening's antics, and hubby's skilled fingers. Nearing the halfway point on the overpass, I realized a taxi had just turned onto the avenue two blocks up, and coming my way. But there was nothing I could do. There was nowhere to hide, and nothing to cover myself up with. As the taxi neared, I could feel myself trembling – a combination of fear and sexual pleasure. I decided to just keep walking proudly, no matter what. The taxi sped along towards me at a normal speed; until the driver realized what he was seeing in his headlights. He almost locked up the breaks as he slowed to get a better look. I flipped him a glance, smiled, and just kept walking. I could feel the juices flowing from my pussy, a trickle even found its way down the inside of my leg. I thought for a moment that the driver would stop and jump out of his cab, but instead, after a thorough observation he continued on his way, no doubt with happier thoughts on his mind. I had been focusing on the taxi cab, which seemed to take several minutes yet was only about 20 seconds; and in doing so, I had not realized that there were suddenly now some pedestrians on the bridge ahead of me. Straining to look ahead, it appeared as though a man and woman were approaching. All I could tell was that they were holding hands. My heart really began to race as I closed on the couple, my swaying tits waving happily at them. What would they do or say? The couple turned out to be two college-aged kids. When they saw me, they stopped dead in their tracks and watched me approach. While the young man seemed to be absorbed with staring at my pussy, the girl incredulously asked what I was doing. I paused long enough to explain that I was responding to a dare from my hubby. Champagne certainly does wonders for one's courage. The couple seemed duly impressed, so off I walked, leaving the couple standing on the bridge behind me, watching my ass jiggle as I walked away. By the time I reached the car, a bus could have driven by and I wouldn't have batted an eyelash. I was so horny and pumped up when I got into the car, I would have let hubby spread me across the hood of the car and make love to me right there on the street, if he would have suggested it. Instead, we took off southward and went downtown to the Reno Arch. This 5th stop was my idea, because I wanted a photo to commemorate this night. I had the pleasure of further exposing myself to other motorists, as my clothes were now spread the length of Reno. I was now reasonably drunk and I wanted something to remember my diamond quest by. I retrieved my phone & handed it to Jay as hubby was approaching Virginia Avenue along Commercial Row. We turned left & pulled over just north of the Downtown Reno Arch. As I got out, walked around the front of the car, then into the road & walked toward the famous neon sign which spans over the downtown street. Jay snapped several pics in rapid succession, Tourists under the arch started looking at me and whistling, so I waved. Within 20 seconds Jay said he had plenty of good pics, so I darted back in my front seat and hubby took us home. Hubby and Jay continued to play with me, keeping me insanely horny until we got home. What happened after that is another story. It suffices to say that, in addition to experiencing one of the most erotic public-nudity adventures of my life, I also won my new diamond, which will always remind me of my “night of nudity” in Reno!   By sharedare, for Literotica

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/african-american-studies

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-studies

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-south

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle.

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Carceral City: Slavery and the Making of Mass Incarceration in New Orleans, 1803-1930 (UNC Press, 2024) reveals that Americans often assume that slave societies had little use for prisons and police because slaveholders only ever inflicted violence directly or through overseers. Mustering tens of thousands of previously overlooked arrest and prison records, John K. Bardes demonstrates the opposite: in parts of the South, enslaved and free people were jailed at astronomical rates. Slaveholders were deeply reliant on coercive state action. Authorities built massive slave prisons and devised specialized slave penal systems to maintain control and maximize profit. Indeed, in New Orleans—for most of the past half-century, the city with the highest incarceration rate in the United States—enslaved people were jailed at higher rates during the antebellum era than are Black residents today. Moreover, some slave prisons remained in use well after Emancipation: in these forgotten institutions lie the hidden origins of state violence under Jim Crow. With powerful and evocative prose, Bardes boldly reinterprets relations between slavery and prison development in American history. Racialized policing and mass incarceration are among the gravest moral crises of our age, but they are not new: slavery, the prison, and race are deeply interwoven into the history of American governance. Kishauna Soljour is an Assistant Professor of Public Humanities at San Diego State University. Her most recent writing appears in the edited collection: From Rights to Lives: The Evolution of the Black Freedom Struggle. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/book-of-the-day

Mustering still on hold in parts of Central Australia after winter rain. Vale Chris Nathanael.

I'm doling out physiology-based tips that'll make you immediately feel more grounded, confident, and magnetic on camera! Social Media all but "requires" business owners to show up on camera, these days. If you wanna grow your brand, you gotta muster up some courage (and deal with the judgement-avoidant mindset that's keeping you scared).TAP THE LINK to grab a FREE PDF download that goes along with this episode (including diagrams of setups I'm describing AND a camera quality settings checklist)➡️ https://parkdale-republic.lpages.co/confidence/This isn't about looking perfect. It's about getting comfortable enough to show up online, so the perfect clients who are already looking for someone like you can find you and say, “Yup. That's my person.” (cough ~thanks to para-social relationships~ cough)I'm also getting real about what's actually behind your camera nerves (spoiler: it's got nothing to do with how you look--> it's fear of judgment). Learn my sneaky posture trick from choir class, why the “icky” feeling isn't always what you think it is, and how to shift the entire energy of your videos with one small mindset flip.We'll talk about:The real reason you cringe watching yourself backHow to anchor your body to look more confident instantlyWhy getting comfortable on camera is now a business-critical skill✨Tap here to watch a FREE masterclass on “How To Get Clients From Instagram (without wasting hours glued to your phone)" https://parkdale-republic.lpages.co/evergreen-webinar-registration/ Tap here to get your free Posts That Sell Template (This caption got us 10 sales calls in 3 hours) https://parkdale-republic.lpages.co/10-sales-calls-new

The holidays may be over, but we all received one last gift: the light blanket of snow on Monday. Not enough to cause trouble but enough to make everything look pleasing. I took advantage of the stillness of the day to go for a run near Dennings Point and work on my New Year's motto. I'm done with resolutions. They're too arbitrary and too hard to keep. Instead, I pick a motto. One year, it was: "You have to want to do it." I had been battling chronic procrastination, so I focused on the positive. Mustering up the enthusiasm to clean the kitchen late at night is difficult, so I'd focus on how happy I'd be in the morning to not wake up to a sink full of pots and a cloud of fruit flies. This year's motto comes from everyone's favorite self-help guru, the Nieman Journalism Lab. At the end of each year, it asks journalists and pundits to predict where the industry is headed. One foresees the resurgence of print. I love print. Perhaps you do, too. Perhaps you are reading this in print. If you are, you can luxuriate in the deep sense of calm that comes from knowing that, at no point during our time together here, will we be separated by a pop-up ad. The newspaper you are holding is only trying to be a newspaper, not a phone, weekly digital planner, jukebox, emergency broadcast service and packed dive bar where everyone is screaming at you. Print allows for surprise: You turn the page, see something you know nothing about and become fascinated. An algorithm will never surprise you because it will only show you what you already like. Print means you found it yourself instead of waiting for algorithmic tides to wash it upon your social media shores. If your social media shores are anything like mine, they are increasingly strewn with garbage. They put journalistic institutions on equal footing with influencers and grifters, as if Mark Zuckerberg grabbed your paper and replaced 19 of the 20 pages with memes and AI-generated photos. It may get worse. This week Meta, the company that runs Facebook, Instagram, Threads and WhatsApp, announced it is getting rid of its fact-checking team. If you read something in print, someone almost certainly looked it over before it went to the printer. On social media, well, _(ツ)_/. In that Nieman poll, Aimee Reinhart, an Associated Press manager, responded: "The coming year will prioritize focus over immediacy." That's my motto. I don't consider myself a pundit, but I feel confident saying a lot is going to happen in 2025. A few people have told me that they plan on tuning out the news for the next few years. I get it, but it only benefits people with terrible intentions. Instead, I'd encourage you to think about ways to engage with the news at a slower pace. Maybe tune out all week and catch up in print on weekends. Maybe it's less social media and more documentaries and long-form journalism. "This isn't about disconnecting from news," said Reinhart. "It's about creating healthier boundaries that let us focus beyond the latest grievance." The motto doesn't just work for news. It will behoove all of us to make sure we are setting aside time on a regular basis to simply think and process. Maybe it's looking out the window on the train instead of your phone. Maybe it's a walk or meditation or just staring at the bird feeder for a few minutes. Or maybe it's the first Monday after the holidays and there's a light snow falling. You go for a run to Dennings Point, without headphones. It's the beginning of the week and there are innumerable tasks that you probably should be doing, but you go out into the cold and the quiet, to the stillness of Fishkill Cove, look out across the water to Storm King ringed with clouds, and stop. The wind softly picks up. Across the cove, a bald eagle spreads its wings and takes off.

An Exclusive Excerpy Reading from The Hunter by Jade Marshall. You can enjoy the full delights of the psychological erotic horror by grabbing your copy by clicking this link. What do you do when you've had a crush on the local deputy since the moment you walked into town? Gather your courage and invite him to a Halloween party.Easy right? Not really.The party sucks and plan B falls apart within minutes. He isn't the man you thought he was. No, he's a damn monster hiding in plain sight.But Ashburne isn't like other towns and nothing is what it seems.Especially on Halloween.In the shadowy town of Ashburne, where the veil between reality and nightmare blurs, a Halloween party becomes the stage for a seductive game of cat and mouse. For Sage, the local deputy is the embodiment of desire—handsome, charming, and utterly unattainable. Mustering every ounce of courage, she invites him to the party, expecting a night of flirtation and fun. But when the clock strikes midnight, the atmosphere shifts, and the monsters lurking beneath the surface reveal their true forms.As the party spirals into chaos, Sage discovers that the deputy is not the man she thought she knew. He's a predator cloaked in authority, and the darkness of Ashburne seeps into their lives, twisting their connection into something both intoxicating and terrifying. Bound by an irresistible attraction and a web of deceit, Sage is drawn deeper into a chilling romance that dances on the razor's edge of pleasure and pain.n a world where lust can be as dangerous as it is intoxicating, will Sage embrace the monster within, or will she become another victim of the town's malevolent secrets? Dive into The Hunter, a mind-bending tale of the battle between desire and dread. In Ashburne, nothing is ever what it seems—especially on Halloween.

Chapter 28 - The Flight of the PrinceQ1 - What are your thoughts on Dumbledore's death?Q2 - Who do you think has died so far?“Cruc —” But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backward off his feet before he could complete it; “Cruc —” yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again. Harry could see him sneering. “No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!” he shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. “You haven't got the nerve or the ability —” “Incarc —” Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm. Q3 - Is Snape really an amazing wizard?“Fight back!” Harry screamed at him. “Fight back, you cowardly —” “Coward, did you call me, Potter?” shouted Snape. “Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?” “Sectum — !” Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi — “No, Potter!” screamed Snape. “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them — I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so . . . no!” Q4 - Thoughts on Snape being the Half-Blood Prince?“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward —” “DON'T—” screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them — “CALL ME COWARD!”Q5 - Is Snape a coward?Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him. He had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet. Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help. . . . Q6 - Dumbledore is actually dead?To the Dark Lord I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.BQ7 - Theories on who RAB is?Q8 - Did Dumbledore die for nothing?Q9 - What is your favorite Dumbledore memory?Chapter 29 - The Phoenix LamentFear stirred in Harry's chest again: He had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind. “Ginny, who else is dead?” “Don't worry, none of us.” “But the Dark Mark — Malfoy said he stepped over a body —” “He stepped over Bill, but it's all right, he's alive.” There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill. “Are you sure?” “Of course I'm sure . . . he's a — a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won't — won't look the same anymore. . . .”Q1 - Do you think Harry understands the cost of what this fight is all about?“No!” Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said. Q2 - Have you ever experienced grief like this?Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows. How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: There were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped. “Snape,” repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. “We all wondered . . . but he trusted . . . always . . . Snape . . . I can't believe it. . . .”Q3 - Do you think the professors knew better?Q4 - Is there anything about the story that the group is giving that is strange to you or hits you differently? Are there any clues in there?“Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks. . . . It's not r-really important . . . but he was a very handsome little b-boy . . . always very handsome . . . and he was g-going to be married!” “And what do you mean by zat?” said Fleur suddenly and loudly. “What do you mean, ‘ 'e was going to be married?' ” Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking startled. “Well — only that —” “You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?” demanded Fleur. “You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?” “No, that's not what I —” “Because 'e will!” said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. “It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!” “Well, yes, I'm sure,” said Mrs. Weasley, “but I thought perhaps — given how — how he —” “You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?” said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. “What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!” she added fiercely, pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her. Q5 - How cool is Fleur?“You see!” said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. “She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!” “It's different,” said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. “Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely —” “But I don't care either, I don't care!” said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin's robes and shaking them. “I've told you a million times. . . .” And the meaning of Tonks's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all. “And I've told you a million times,” said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, “that I am too old for you, too poor . . . too dangerous. . . .” “I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus,” said Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back. “I am not being ridiculous,” said Lupin steadily. “Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.” “But she wants you,” said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.” Q6 - What do you think of Lupin and Tonks?“Harry,” she said, “I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school.” “I can't tell you that, Professor,” said Harry. Q7 - Why doesn't Harry tell more people about this?“Dunno,” said Harry, lying back on his bed fully clothed and staring blankly upwards. He felt no curiosity at all about R.A.B.: He doubted that he would ever feel curious again. As he lay there, he became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing. And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world . . . had left Harry. Chapter 30 - The White TombThere might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere, and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Voldemort could be killed. He kept reciting their names to himself, as though by listing them he could bring them within reach: the locket . . . the cup . . . the snake . . . something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's . . . the locket . . . the cup . . . the snake . . . something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's . . . Q1 - Any further ideas on what the Horcruxes could be?“I should've shown the book to Dumbledore,” said Harry. “All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was too —” Q2 - If Harry could have Dumbledore back for one question, what question should he ask him?The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. Neville and Luna alone of the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died, and Harry knew why: They were the ones who had missed the D.A. most . . . probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting. Q3 - What do you think of Umbridge at the funeral?And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone. . . . He clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes: He looked away from Ginny and the others and stared out over the lake, toward the forest, as the little man in black droned on. . . . There was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects too. They did not move into the open but Harry saw them standing quite still, half hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides. And Harry remembered his first nightmarish trip into the forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. . . . Q4 - Will Harry win this fight?And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died, and he was more alone than he had ever been before. “Ginny, listen . . .” he said very quietly, as the buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet, “I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together.” She said, with an oddly twisted smile, “It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?” “It's been like . . . like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you,” said Harry. “But I can't . . . we can't . . . I've got things to do alone now.”Q5 - You think Harry is right to break up with Ginny?“I'm not coming back even if it does reopen,” said Harry. Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, “I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?” “I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to,” said Harry. “But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good.” Q6 - What is Harry going to do?“We'll be there, Harry,” said Ron. “What?” “At your aunt and uncle's house,” said Ron. “And then we'll go with you wherever you're going.” “No —” said Harry quickly; he had not counted on this, he had meant them to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone. “You said to us once before,” said Hermione quietly, “that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we? “We're with you whatever happens,” said Ron. “But mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow.” “Why?” “Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?” Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful. “Yeah, we shouldn't miss that,” he said finally. His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione. Q7 - How'd you like this book?Q8 - What is in store for the group in the future?Q9 - Rank the books so far?

Mobile services are not classified as essential, even though more than 39 million mobile accounts are in use across Australia.

Polypill Perfection – 3D Printing Personalised Pills.  Deepfake Dilemmas and Disruptive Digital Democracy.  Tangled Tones and the Scarlett Showdown.  Drone Developments Delivering Dynamic Mustering.  Brainy Breakthroughs and Bold Bets.  Timeless Titles on Today's Tech.  Tracking Tamil Nadu's Trains to Tackle Tragic Elephant Tragedies.  The Timeless Tale of Video Telephony.  Transforming Brain Health with Trailblazing Tracking Technology. 

Rural news and events from Queensland and across Australia.

Your daily kids news podcast. Help us improve Squiz Kids survey. Australia's Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has announced a plan to protect kids online with "age verification" technology. This new trial will help ensure kids are old enough for social media. The goal? To keep young minds safe from harmful content. Sounds like a smart move! An adventurous scientist from Australia is trekking across Greenland's ice cap to study snow density. Armed with skis and sleds, these brave explorers are gathering data to understand why Greenland's ice is shrinking. Talk about a chilly but important mission! Farming has gone high-tech! Instead of horses and motorbikes, farmers are using drones to herd their livestock. These drones, controlled from miles away, guide cattle across the fields. It's an amazing blend of tradition and technology! In Florida, school kids got a wild surprise when a huge alligator wandered onto their road. Wildlife officers had to wrestle and tape the massive reptile before relocating it far away. It's not every day you see an alligator on the way to school! For the full episode transcript, click here.

The Trump Trial is making the democrats' Trump derangement syndrome even worse,  the South Dakota Governor goes down in flames over killing her dog, and the Governor of New York thinks black kids in the bronx don't know what a computer is...there is a lot of  failing to read the room moments in this week s "did they really just say that" audio cuts. Listen to Ben Parker and Nancy Shack every week on NewsByte on the iHeartRadio app!

WA pastoralist Lara Jensen is campaigning for improved lighting on trains and level crossings.

From woolshed to bed - two sisters spin their homeware dreams, Young fruit growers climb the hort ladder, A blast from the past - Mustering in Marlborough and a wrap of the week's rural news

It's 1956 and in the heat of February seven shepherds, a pack train and 40 dogs drove 4000 ewes from remote Bluff Station, 90 kilometres down the back country to Kekerengu for shearing.

u got this Billy

God teaches us much just by the way that He organizes His church.

Weddings & DiplomacyA 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.“Joras, are you alright?”“Yes, Yes, I think so,” the artist panted. “T'pek gave me a healing poultice, At least, I hope that’s what it was.” He scrabbled for the water skin on his back, only to find the leather vessel torn and almost empty. Desperately, he licked water droplets from his fingers.“A camp is close,” T'pek said. “Food and water are there. Can you walk?”Joras pulled apart his torn pant leg. It was blood-soaked, but the skin underneath was unbroken and whole. "By my brushes! It worked,“ the artist gasped. T'pek growled happily. "Ambrose, you should fill a ship’s hold with these things. You’d make a fortune if they didn’t taste like death itself,” he added in Thelyrian.He looked up at Tsonia kneeling over the sea captain and went pale. “Oh, dear…”Tsonia offered a horrible, bloody smile. “I had to go back for him. The old fool was debating fate with the gods and I couldn’t let him die just yet. I know how fond you are of him.”“Thank you,” Joras said, clasping her wrist. “Of all of us, he’s had it the worst. Losing his ship, his crew, having to watch a friend be torn to pieces by the living dead…”“I know. All because I asked for his help chasing Kelgore." Tsonia sighed. "Curse the gods for the choices we make, eh?” She wiped at the blood covering half her face, only managing to smear it.Joras came to his feet and took up the pack that Ambrose had carried. “I’m sure the idea of taking half of what the God-King offered us appealed to him at the time.”“It will be more than enough to buy him a new ship at least.” Tsonia hoisted Ambrose back onto her shoulders. She fell into step behind T'pek, Joras by her side. “Gods, I’d kill for a bath right about now.”From bundle slung over Joras’s shoulder, the dead witch’s voice rasped “Kelgore is close! His presence draws me like a lodestone.”“Yes, thank you,” Tsonia replied. “We have a guide now, your service is no longer required.”“Insolent whore!" Shala gnashed her teeth. "First you tempt my son into debauchery, and now you dismiss my counsel with such contempt. The fate spinner may have granted you beauty, but they sacrificed any shred of virtue.”Tsonia inhaled slowly, mustering her patience. “You should choose your words carefully, witch. Especially when a bottomless chasm is so close." She paused, letting her words sink in. "What makes you think I corrupted your whelp? From what I’ve heard, he was called ‘The Despoiler’ for good reason, long before I met him.”“Kelgore has always shared my ambition to dethrone the God-King!” Shala protested. “His carnal endeavors were little more than the spoils of the victor. It was only when he found your demon-tainted cunt that he got it into his head to breed an heir that might surpass him.”“Ha!” Tsonia barked. “No man’s seed has ever found purchase in my womb.” Over the years since her virgin defilement by Q'alan, there had been many, many men who had tried. “Kelgore yearns in vain.”“No mortal seed, perhaps,” Shala admonished. "But Kelgore’s blood flows just as black as yours. Don’t scorn the fate spinner’s patterns so casually, whore. They have a vicious sense of humor.“That gave Tsonia pause. She had never met another soul that had survived desecration by a demon the way she had. Was it possible that she might conceive a child with Kelgore? She really had no idea, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this new possibility.T'pek stopped at the foot of a towering tree. "Here,” he said, pointing at the trunk. Deep hand holds had been carved into the bark.Tsonia craned her neck. Expertly hidden among the wide leaves of the jungle’s canopy was a large platform nestled in the branches. Gently, she let Ambrose slide from her shoulders. The captain groaned, slowly coming to his senses.“Good to see you return to us,” Tsonia said, helping Ambrose into a sitting position. “Are there other hunters up there, T'pek?”The beastkin shook his head. “They would have come already.” He cocked his head, ears perked high. “Drums from the village are quiet. That does not happen.” He looked at Tsonia. “I am worried.”“We will see,” Tsonia said. “Can your drum ask?”“Yes.” T'pek clambered up the trunk. Moments later, a quick beat echoed from above. The response was distant and sparse.“Oh grand, more drumming,” Ambrose muttered, reaching for the hand holds. With some effort, he pulled himself up the trunk and onto the platform. Joras followed, a bit hesitant.“This isn't a Xhastrian rooftop,” Tsonia said reassuringly. “You won’t fall and break your legs again.”“At least the ground ought to be softer than those thousand-year old cobblestones,” Joras muttered darkly, pulling himself up onto the platform. Tsonia followed suit.A wondrous sight awaited once she reached the top. There was a small hearth made from stacked rocks where the coals of a small fire still smoldered. Cozy-looking piles of fronds and furs looked enough to sleep half a dozen hunters. Large, leathery leaves had been cleverly stitched together and sealed with dark sap to form water bags. Sighing with contentment, Tsonia stripped off her blood-caked armor and uncorked one of these, splashing herself until the worst of the blood was washed away.While she bathed, Ambrose and Joras rekindled the fire and skewered meat to roast. They chatted softly with each other. Tsonia noticed the glances the graying captain shot her way. They seemed less accusatory than before, but still far from his usual friendly self. She sighed, feeling the weight of her decisions laid upon her soul. But there was nothing she could do now but push on and make sure they all made it back home safely.T'pek sat at the edge of the platform, dangling his feet and rapping his drum to as much avail as before. The responses that came back were sparse and scattered, a far cry from the all-encompassing rumble from days past.Tsonia stepped behind him, sinking her hands into his shoulder fur and kneading the taut muscles underneath. T'pek looked at her in surprise. A soft purr rumbled in his chest.“What do they say?” she softly asked.“Confusion,” T'pek admitted. “The village is quiet. It is as if no one is there to beat the drums.” He listened to an errant bout of rumbles. “That does not happen. The drums are sacred!”“Can we see your village from here?”“Yes,” T'pek nodded, putting aside his drum. He guided Tsonia back towards the great tree trunk where more hand holds led further up, far above the leafy jungle canopy. “From there,” he pointed upwards.His hand caressed down her spine, inflaming her barely controlled need again. She caught his wrist. “Don’t wake my hunger, hunter,” she purred. “We must see your village.” A soft whine escaped his chest. Tsonia sighed, slipping her hand under his loincloth. She found him hard and throbbing and squeezed fondly. “You will not sleep alone tonight,” she promised. "Wisdom first.“Panting happily, T'pek dashed up the tree. His sinuous tail caressed her bruised cheek as he went.Chuckling, Tsonia followed, albeit a bit more slowly. She heard Shala snarl something, probably another bout of insults but chose to ignore the foul-mouthed witch. This climb was longer than the first, ending at a much smaller platform, barely wide enough for both of them to stand together.Despite the thick clouds overhead and the deepening darkness of the night, the volcano was easy to see. The massive plume of smoke had gained a glowing red underbelly and the sharp slopes seemed much closer now. In the absence of constant drumming, every growl and rumble of the earth was clearly audible.T'pek pointed, a dark shade against the gloom. "The village is there. But, No light. No fire.”Tsonia’s gaze followed his extended arm. She saw nothing but an unbroken carpet of leaves and swaying trees. Shielding the last rays of sunset with her hand, her eyes dug into the darkness for sign of civilization. After a moment, something finally caught her eye, a flickering light much higher up than she expected, seemingly caught in a square recess.“What am I looking at?” she wondered. “I see light. Weak light, there.”T'pek leaned forwards, his dark eyes wide to catch every errant ray of light. "The temple. There is fire in the temple.“ He shook his head. "There should be fire in the village. Fire for light. Fire to cook. Fire to scare beasts away. But there is no fire.” He growled in annoyance.T'pek swung his body off the platform and clambered down the trunk. Tsonia had to hurry to catch up with him. She reached him as he was about to descend to the jungle floor below.“Stop!” she barked.T'pek froze, hand on the trunk. “There is danger. I must help!”“Yes,” Tsonia said, taking his hand off the wood. “But do not be fast. Be smart. This danger is new. This danger is Kelgore.”“What is Kelgore?” T'pek asked. His words were taut like a drawn bow. Tsonia could sense him aching for action.“Kelgore is a bad man,” Tsonia said. “He has strong magic. He can steal your, thoughts. Your will.”T'pek gazed at her, struggling to comprehend what Tsonia was saying. “My , will?”“His words, his eyes steal, you,” Tsonia said, struggling to put Kelgore’s horrible power into the simple terms of the Trade Tongue. “Magic makes you obey him.”“His magic steals the will of my tribe?” A dangerous growl came from the hunter’s throat.“We do not know. Maybe. We need to be smart. Clever, not angry,” Tsonia said, caressing T'pek’s back. “I am your mate. Let me help.”The beastkin exhaled, a long, shuddering sound of apprehension. “Yes,” he said. "Help. But how?“Tsonia offered a horrible, little smile. "We ask the dead witch.”Kelgore was beginning to have his doubts.It had not been hard to persuade the beastkin tribe to make him their ruler. He had only had to ask, first his captors to take him before their elders, and then the elders to revere him as a god. The fact that they shared no common language made no difference at all. Any who met Kelgore’s demon-blessed gaze understood his desires intuitively. Those who heard him speak were powerless to resist his will. These savages were no different than the milky men of the Green Cities or the fish-mongers of the Xhastrian coast.And so Kelgore ruled them. Without his mother’s constant nagging, he had been free to rule as he wished and to indulge his appetites without constraint.The women of the beastkin tribe, he found, were not unattractive. They curved in all the right places and the soft fur that covered their skin was actually quite nice to feel under his hands. The beastkin girl so enthusiastically riding his cock at the moment had pert little tits that trembled deliciously. The way her long, articulate tail thrashed when she came and the claws raking down his chest and back were unexpectedly arousing.With an agonized groan of release, Kelgore finally ejaculated deep in the beast-girl’s fertile quim. He felt a new shadow cross her psyche, a selfish little desire that she’d share with none of her kin. The girl hoped that she was conceiving a great chieftain, a ruler to succeed Kelgore someday and elevate her own status in the tribe.They had all had the same secret hope, and in hindsight, Kelgore thought it was probably a mistake to gather the entire tribe and turn them all to his debaucherous cause at once.As the beastkin girl dismounted his throne with a smile and a swish of her tail she was replaced almost immediately by his next suitor, this one older, her teats fuller and hips wider. She bathed his spent cock with a long, slippery tongue, coaxing him back to his full.In her mind, Kelgore saw all the secret tricks she knew for kindling a lover. He saw her secret fear that she was not as attractive as the younger females of the tribe, and her secret desire to bear the next great chief.He had lost count of the females he had serviced, each convinced by his will that by bearing Kelgore’s offspring their tribe would thrive and flourish, vanquishing all threats and rivals. The males too were turned to Kelgore’s cause and eagerly offered up their wives, mothers, and daughters. The cuckolded males brought him food and drink and attended his every need while he defiled their women in front of them. When he had no need of them, they gathered outside the temple, like dolls lined up on a shelf, waiting for the puppet master to resume his play.Only the elders had another part to play. Without females to bring him and as priests of the tribe’s old faith, they needed to be kept busy. From painful experience Kelgore knew that men and women of faith were notoriously hard to sway, so giving them tasks away from their former holy sites to take their minds elsewhere was the only prudent thing to do. He turned the elders, bird, serpent and skull, into watchmen. They were to patrol the village and warn him of any newcomers, announced or unannounced both. They complied, their minds buckling under the weight of their new responsibilities, leaving Kelgore to enjoy the tribe’s hospitality.After days of incessant revelry, the novelty however had long since worn off, and Kelgore discovered much to his dismay that once someone was turned to his cause, it was surprisingly difficult to turn them back. Thus far, he had never stayed in one place for long, raiding coastal villages for food and supplies and bodies, both to replenish combat losses and those to sate his appetite, and that of his men. He didn’t care if his charms wore off eventually or how long it took them to do so. Now he learned about the limits of his demonic gift.No matter how deeply penetrating his gaze, no matter how resonant the timbre of his voice, he could not staunch the beastkin’s desire to copulate with him for more than a few hours at a time. He could inspire new wishes and inclinations for a short time, but always that first yearning to breed a generation of his children returned.Perhaps that cause had been too grand in scale and scope. When Kelgore desired food they brought him food and when he desired sleep, they let him sleep. But after he’d eaten or slept, the tribe’s desire returned to milking his seed into the loins of their females. Perhaps after nine months or so, when the cause was fulfilled, his tribe would be ripe for new challenges.As the next female mounted Kelgore’s reinvigorated rod with a murmur of satisfied yearning, he realized that something was amiss. Distracted by the purring beastkin writhing on his lap, it took him some time to realize that the drums, thus far an ever-present rumbling background noise, had stopped. Kelgore had learned that various rhythms tracked and relayed different threats across the island. He could tell the difference between “strangers on the beach” and “strangers in the jungle” and “strangers sleeping”, but this silence was odd.A shadow fell over him. Kelgore raised his gaze. The sharp-beaked golden mask of the bird-faced elder loomed above him. His clawless front paw reverentially touched his shoulder, begging for his attention.The elder’s thoughts were a confused jumble, but something stirred within them, some other form mental connection, not unlike his own. Despite himself, Kelgore closed his hand around the elder’s, forcing his will through the hazy confusion. The elder carried a secret, something no one besides his peers was allowed to know. They guarded something, locked away in the catacombs beneath the temple. Something old, something horrible, so vile it could annihilate the whole tribe if it ever broke free from its shackles. Deals had been struck. The elders gave themselves willingly, becoming instruments of the Sleeper’s will and fulfilling its desire for nourishment and entertainment. Once sated, it would go back to sleep for years on end, leaving the tribe to flourish.Kelgore pushed the elder’s hand off his shoulder. “What is it?” he snarled. “I’m busy.” The female on his lap looked down at his imperious tone.“Strangers are in the village. One has fur the color of fire.”Suddenly wide awake and invigorated, Kelgore sat up. His true bride had finally arrived and it was time to greet her, make her his queen.Kelgore took the beastkin woman by her ass and shoved her off to the side of the padded breeding throne the savages had built for him. She stroked his shoulder and chest with an inquiring bark as Kelgore pushed himself to his feet. In her touch Kelgore felt her anticipation, saw her sprawled beneath him, saw her on her hands and knees before him, saw her spooned against him.“No,” Kelgore spat, knocking her hand away. His cold gaze pierced her wide, faithful eyes and she knew his desire even if his words meant nothing to her. “No, I don’t want you.”He threw his sturdy over-robe around his shoulders without bothering to dress more completely. As Kelgore hurried from the temple he had appropriated from the village elders, he left the beastkin whore curled up on the throne, sobbing while the elder watched, bereft of any emotion. The other females, gathered as they were in the great hall around the firepit, looked up as he strode past. Some purred in satisfaction, those he hadn’t fucked yet crawled on hands and knees to intercept him, their tails high in the air. The sounds they made were between playful coos and desperate howls. He didn’t care for any of them, now that demon-blooded, fire-haired Tsonia was close! He snapped an angry order, his loud voice enough for the horny ones to shirk away in confusion and the sated ones to raise their heads in puzzlement. Kelgore paid them no heed, eager to leave the gloom of his makeshift throne room.The entire village, what there was of it, spread out down the slope beneath his temple. The ruins of once elegant stone dwellings had been repurposed by clumsier hands with branches and bark and animal hides into crude hovels and halls. Surrounding the great hall the tribes’ males languished. Unneeded, unwanted, with no purpose save for waiting for their god’s next command. As he emerged, Kelgore’s worshippers turned to look up at him, their weapons, tools and drums forgotten besides them. They had been blessed by their new deity’s appearance. All they wanted was to serve.And serve they shall. He picked six of the strongest hunters. “You, come with me. Defend me with your lives, but do not hurt our guest.” The broad-shouldered beastkin growled in assent and grabbed their spears, coming lithely to their feet.The other beastkin slumped into listless heaps of fur as Kelgore swept down the steep steps leading into the village. With his guards in tow he strode along the main thoroughfare, an ancient road paved with cracked tiles. Past the abandoned huts he went, past the deserted tanning racks and smoke houses, past toppled weapons racks, scattered tools and forgotten toys, and then into the main square.Across the plaza Kelgore saw two men, men like him, hugging close to the broken masonry of ancient walls. There was caution in their eyes as they picked their way forward. They were strangers to him, and so Kelgore assumed they must be survivors from the vessel that had dogged him into Shala’s storm. One of the men, the younger, wore the tattered remains of a garish orange cloak.“Fur the color of fire,” Kelgore muttered to himself. He would have to have a chat with Bird-face, teach him proper use of the Trade Tongue. While he was disappointed that Tsonia had not yet come to him, he was glad to have the company of other men.Both men appeared haggard and unkempt, but their expressions brightened as soon as they caught sight of Kelgore and his retinue.“Praise the gods!” shouted the younger man.“Succor?” called the elder as both men hurried closer. "Succor, for two shipwrecked sailors?“Kelgore’s guards closed ranks around him and the men stopped dead, as if only just noticing the beasts at Kelgore’s command. The men looked past the guards with eyes full of hope and desperation."Stand down,” said Kelgore with a smile. “Can’t you oafs see that these good men are harmless? Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to my kingdom, such as it is.”As his honor guard parted, the men looked at each other. Kelgore saw a strange pair of expressions cross their faces, and he could not fault their confusion. He was curious to see how the strangers would respond.“Your majesty!” replied the elder man at last, offering a low bow. “We are your humble servants.”“You may approach,” Kelgore gestured to the ground before him and both strangers rushed forward bowing and scraping. They knelt where he had indicated, their eyes cast down in deferential supplication. Kelgore could see now that they were bruised and bloodied. Their trek through the jungle must have been a difficult one. And yet these were civilized men who knew how to behave in the presence of a king.“Rise and come with me, my welcome guests,” Kelgore instructed with all the magnanimity his authority granted. “You will be fed and your wounds treated. My court has need of noble men such as yourselves. I have many questions, but they can wait until you are fed and rested.”Something was nagging at Kelgore as he led the pair back towards his temple. He realized that these men had probably been hunting him only a week ago, but that hardly mattered. If they opposed him, he would simply turn them to his cause. No, what troubled Kelgore was the thought that these two lowly sailors had made their way to him through the treacherous jungle faster than Tsonia had.Serpent waited. He had brought the outsider food and drink. He had brought fresh cloth to cleanse the outsider after he had lain with the women. But now the outsider had no task for him, so Serpent waited. He would wait until the outsider would have need of him again. Impassively he had watched as every last female, young or old, was herded into the temple. He watched as the hunters shuffled from the great hall like cattle, how they crumpled into motionless piles of fur and misery, having to listen to their wives, their daughters mew in heat as the outsider took them, one by one.He watched as Brother Condor entered the temple and talked to the outsider, causing him to stop the breeding rituals and storm from the great hall in sudden excitement. He had no idea why, but that was fine. He merely had to wait and receive his new orders.A sharp pain tore through his skull, covered by the heavy mask and ornate headdress. Moaning in agony, Serpent went to his knees. Around the temple, he heard two echoes of his own wail as his brothers suffered the same excruciating pain.Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped from his whiskers as titanic forces battled for dominance in his skull. He burned in a sudden fever, yet his teeth chattered as he shook with the chills. A fang clipped his tongue, drawing fresh, hot blood and another pained whimper. The pain was strongest at the base of his neck, as if a spear point was forced into his spine.And Serpent remembered, when he had been chosen, he went into a chamber below the great hall. The other two elders, Condor and Death Inevitable, were chanting. Thick smoke poured from a strange vessel, tearing up his eyes and insulting his sensitive nostrils with its cloying sweetness. Each breath he took caused him to relax more and more. Death Inevitable, his hand disappearing in the grotesque maw of a statue hewn from the wall, ordered him to step forward and kneel by the hatch in the floor. Awestruck by the great honor bestowed upon him, the most senior hunter of the tribe, he complied. The hatch ground open and more sweet-smelling vapors poured forth, blinding him completely. There was a sickening, slurping and smacking noise and something viscous slithered around his neck.The pain that followed was worse than anything he’d ever have to endure. His skin burned. His flesh dissolved. And something snaked under his skull. He howled and screamed, baring his fangs, trying to claw at the slithering intrusion, but the elders held him firmly to the ground. There was no escape, only merciful unconsciousness.When he awoke some time later, the village was celebrating the arrival of its newest elder. His head throbbed with unfamiliar palpitations. Gingerly, he touched his neck, sensing a small lump bulging from his spine. When his fingers brushed it, a soothing sensation oozed from it, assuring him everything would be all right. The Sleeper would see to that. The others had found him then and presented him with the golden mask of the fang-toothed Serpent. From now on, he was no longer a hunter. He had been chosen. The Sleeper had accepted him. He now was an elder, serving the village and its unseen master both until the day he died.Groaning, cursing his ancient bones, Serpent came to his feet. The Sleeper had freed him from the outsider’s spell. There was a strange movement on his back and gingerly, Serpent prodded for it. Something long and viscous dangled from the nape of his neck, streaked in blood and amniotic fluid. He gasped in terror as he beheld the Sleeper’s pale limb, sprouted from his own burst flesh.He tucked the offending appendage under his headdress and hurried through the temple, past the moaning females begging for their new god to return, to grace them with his seed. He growled in barely contained rage at this defilement of the tribe and hurried past, to where Condor was sprawled in a pool of blood in a dark corner, unheeded by anyone. His mask had fallen off his grayed face and his snout and forehead were a ghastly pulp. Ichor and brain matter ran down the wall from where he had shattered his own skull.“We will find a new elder,” Death Inevitable whispered behind him, the Sleeper’s limb grown from his neck gently touching Serpent’s shoulder. "But first, the Sleeper. Can’t you feel it?“Serpent nodded as shivers ran down his spine. The Sleeper was furious. First they had fed it an impure, hollowed shell of a woman. Then it had spent some of its precious power to free them from the outsider’s spell. It demanded praise. It demanded food. The Sleeper demanded a sacrifice.Serpent exchanged a long look with Death Inevitable. "Didn’t Condor, rest his soul, say there were strangers approaching?”“He did. We must bless Brother Condor with the funerary rites quickly, so that we can find these new outsiders.”Between the broken stone walls, Tsonia strolled openly, waiting to be challenged by a sentry. She had followed the path T'pek had indicated to the outskirts of the ancient ruins that his tribe called home. When no challenge came, she continued on towards the temple where he said the elders would gather.It was possible, she knew, that she was being watched. T'pek and his people were nearly invisible in the lush jungle foliage when they wanted to be. Much of the jungle had encroached on the overgrown stonework so there might have been eyes anywhere. If they were there, Tsonia could not see them. What she did see were abandoned tools and utensils, lying discarded as if their owners might return at any moment. As she made her way across the village square and deeper into the ruins, it felt more and more like walking through a town that had been hastily abandoned ahead of an invading army.She saw the antediluvian temple rising out of the green, towering above the village. It was just as T'pek had described it. It could be seen from anywhere in the village, she merely had to find her way through the disorganized warren of crumbling stone and twisted vines.Tsonia mounted a set of steps between a hut roofed with animal hides and another with browning palm fronds and emerged on a wider avenue than the path she had left. She stopped short, and very nearly retreated a step, for scattered before her were dozens upon dozens of the native beastkin. They made no effort to conceal themselves, lounging and slouching on the steps and rubble that surrounded the temple. Several of the men saw her, but none bothered to rise.She approached them cautiously, sword in hand, and yet still none seemed alarmed by her presence.“Who speaks the outsider tongue?” she called to the assembled throng. None answered. Tsonia picked her way among them and while some watched her pass and some even stared, they did not try to stop her. They seemed listless and enervated as if by hunger or thirst, yet there was food and water aplenty in the village.Another surprise awaited her when she saw a clear separation of the men and women of the tribe. The women were clustered closer around the temple wall, and unlike the men they seemed agitated and anxious.“Who speaks the outsider tongue?” she asked again, hoping to arouse a response.“I do.” said a clear, strong voice from above her. Tsonia looked up, as did every other face in the crowd.There at the entrance to the temple, stood her quarry, Kelgore, resplendent in multi-colored robes of leather and plumes. He was flanked by a pair of burly, green-furred beastkin guards wielding long boar-spears. Kelgore himself appeared unarmed.“But Thelyrian is so much more civilized, don’t you think?” he asked.“What have you done to them?” Tsonia demanded.“I merely asked them to wait on me. When I wish for anything at all, they fall all over themselves to provide. I’m their new god you see.”“When was the last time they ate?”A curious expression crossed Kelgore’s face. In another man, it might have been embarrassment at the oversight or perhaps even guilt. In Kelgore it seemed more like irritation.“You six there,” Kelgore gestured, looking down with glassy black eyes at a knot of the idle men, “Prepare food and drink. Feed everyone.” In his voice, Tsonia heard an odd resonance that sent a shiver up her spine. The six beastkin leapt to their feet and dashed off into the village towards the abandoned cookfires.“You see? They worship me. They live to serve.”“How very nice for you,” Tsonia said, starting slowly up the last flight of steps to the temple door, sword in hand.And suddenly she was back on the bottom step, her hands empty, the sword slung at her side. She had no memory of descending, nor of sheathing the sword. Tsonia bit back her anger.Kelgore smiled. “Tell me Red Tsonia, before I bid you welcome to my kingdom, have you come to kill me?”“Honestly, I expected to find that the natives had eaten you,” she lied. “I’m a little surprised to see you doing so well for yourself, and I’m starting to see why the God-King fears you so.”“Perhaps I could entice you to change sides?”“Perhaps you could.”“Then approach, Red Tsonia, and be welcomed.” Kelgore waved his guards back a step and extended a beckoning hand. “I shall have a feast prepared in your honor. But first come and meet my court. I have a, um, proposal that I think you’ll find rewarding.”Tsonia climbed the stairs and took the hand he offered. Kelgore led her into his throne room, his two guards never more than a short pounce behind him. The cool tile floors were covered with thick hides. The sunlight, through open gaps in the ancient ceiling scattered pools of light and shadow. In the center of the room sat a crude divan covered in supple leather and stains that appeared fresh.Joras and Ambrose were there, sitting on a pair of smaller settees, picking at platters of fruit held by naked beastkin girls. Joras sat up with a start.“Red Tsonia, we thought you drowned!” he cheered. Tsonia worried his enthusiasm was a bit forced, but Kelgore didn’t seem to notice. “How ever did you survive?”“Much the way you did, I suspect.” she answered putting a bit of cold distance in her voice. “It’s 'Joras’, right? And, 'Ambrose’ I believe?”Ambrose nodded. “Welcome to a very exclusive club of survivors, Tsonia,” he said without getting up. “I suspect you may come to enjoy being marooned here in Kelgore’s kingdom.”“Yes.” She cast an approving glance at Kelgore, taking his measure. “Yes, I suspect I may.”There was a commotion at the door and everyone turned to see two strapping beastkin carrying in a roughly crafted wooden settee, similar to the couches Joras and Ambrose enjoyed. Behind them, T'pek came, bearing a heavy roll of thick, wooly hides to drape as padding. Tsonia recognized the familiar scarring across his chest and spared him only the briefest glance.His hand was held with fingers crossed, the prearranged signal that all was in readiness.“Come, come! Over there,” Kelgore gestured to the natives, directing them to set the new furniture between Joras and Ambrose, giving Tsonia a position of importance between them. “Set that down and be quick about it.”Joras lounged with an arm stretched across the chair back. He too had his fingers crossed.Ambrose did not. A brief anxiety flashed up Tsonia’s spine. She risked a longer look and when she caught his eye with a questioning cock of her eyebrow, with a sigh of reluctance Ambrose crossed his fingers as wellShe had the signal ready on her lips. All she had to do was speak it.“Your majesty, I believe you said you had a, um, proposal for me?” She crossed in front of him with more sway in her hips than a ripe Debon maiden. She turned and perched herself on the edge of his throne drawing concerned scowls from his guards and a knowing smile from the King himself. “If you have something to say then, now is the time”On her word, T'pek unfurled the roll of hides with a snap sending the head of Shala tumbling across the floor to come to rest at the feet of her astonished son.“Kill her, you fool! It’s a trap!” screamed the witch’s severed head, just as Tsonia hoped she might.No matter how enchanted Kelgore’s guards, that sight could not fail to rattle them. It would give Joras and Ambrose the precious second they needed to aim the short reeds that the natives used as blowguns. Not much longer than a man’s hand, the weapons were easily concealed. T'pek had found a cache of them at the hunting camp, along with the darts and a clay jar of the sleeping poison. Joras and Ambrose had practiced with them for hours.Tsonia was already on the fly, launching herself off the divan sword in hand, trusting her companions to deal with the guards quickly and without bloodshed. One well-placed strike would take Kelgore’s head and end his tyrannical reign over these people.Kelgore ducked her blow, recovering from the shock of his mother’s appearance with more composure than Tsonia expected. Nonetheless, T'pek would be on him in an instant. Tsonia whirled on the would-be king to follow up her first attack and suddenly felt her feet fly out from under her.She hit the hide-carpeted stone floor hard. Instinctively she rolled away from a follow up attack by what she assumed must have been the long spear of one of the guards. Seizing that momentum, Tsonia sprang to her feet and saw Joras, T'pek, and Ambrose unmoved from their places, still and passive.She turned to see Kelgore’s still very much alert guards advancing on her, and Kelgore himself grinning as if he was particularly proud of himself. Raising her sword with a primal scream of fury, Tsonia charged.And she was on her knees, wrists bound behind her back, her neck tethered to her knees, and the points of two spears pressed to her shoulders. Tsonia clawed through her memory for some recollection of how she had been bested and she found nothing.“Really my dear, did you think that would work?” Kelgore asked. He lounged on his breeding throne with his mother settled comfortably by his side. The long spears of his guards held his betrothed prisoner, bent double on her knees before him. Her allies stood by, waiting for his instructions. They would stand there waiting until they starved to death if he so willed it.“You have never respected the power I procured for my son," gloated Shala. "And now you shall die for your arrogance.”“Don’t be hasty, mother,” Kelgore admonished. He had no intention of slaying his future bride, despite his mother’s opinions. “I think she may yet come around, if given a proper demonstration.”The vixen-warrior on the floor in front of him strained against her bonds with a scream, even as the spear points pierced her flesh, raising drops of black blood that trickled down her shoulders and fell hissing to the floor.“Their rope is really quite strong, isn’t it?” Kelgore asked, amused by her efforts. “It was your beastly lover there who trussed you up so securely.” Tsonia looked up and shot a glance at the scar-ridden beastman who stood nearby.“Oh, don’t feel betrayed. He really didn’t have any choice. In fact, I think that he is the one who should feel betrayed. Did you really promise to bear him pups? You must know that your demon-blessed womb will never bear mortal fruit.”“Then why do you seek to make my barren loins your own?” Tsonia hissed up at him. Her vibrant hair hung lank in her face as she strained against her bonds to meet his gaze. She really had learned nothing.“Enough of this!” insisted Shala. “Kill her now and be done with it! This boasting is beneath you. You should be ordering these savages to build you a boat, not wasting time fawning over this whore.”“Silence, mother!” he spat. He was proud of the kingdom he had built here, but nothing would be good enough for his mother until the God-King lay dead at his feet. She had no appreciation for the finer things in life that his demon-gifted powers could provide. She could make him so angry sometimes.Kelgore drew a knife from his belt, toyed with it for a moment while eyeing his mother’s head. She returned his glare, but said nothing. He took a moment to steady himself before looking at the younger of Tsonia’s allies and calling “Joras, come take this knife.”“What are you doing? Leave him alone!” snapped Tsonia, straining again at her bonds.“Yes, your loyal follower,” Kelgore observed. “Perhaps the only person you really care about. Your memory and his both tell me how much he means to you, and what destruction you might rain if not for his companionship.”“Kelgore, I swear to every god on either side of the veil,” Tsonia hissed at him through clenched teeth, “if you hurt him there is no hell with a pit deep enough to hide you from my wrath.” Her bonds groaned with the effort of containing her fury and the spear point dug deeper into her shoulders.“No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong.” Kelgore waved away the absurd idea and stood from his throne, forcing Tsonia to struggle even harder to look at him. He turned to the young artist, knowing that if there was any leverage over Red Tsonia to be found, this man was the fulcrum.“Joras,” he said. "Kill Ambrose.“The young man in the horrid orange cloak turned on his lover, who stood motionless and indifferent. If there was fear in the older man’s soul, Kelgore could not yet see it in his eyes."No!” Tsonia screamed. "Joras! Stop! Joras, fight it! Fight him! Stop, Joras, please!“But there was no stopping a command once Kelgore had issued it with the full force of his will behind it. Indeed, Kelgore doubted even he could have stayed Joras’s hand now. The man moved with deliberate speed and with one strike, he stabbed Ambrose through the heart.The sea captain looked up with a gasp. Now Kelgore could see the shock and terror in his eyes. A tear rolled down Ambrose’s cheek as he took Joras’s face in his hands. If Ambrose spoke, he was too quiet for Kelgore to hear over Tsonia’s screams of protest. Ambrose pressed his forehead to Joras’s and caressed the scruff of his lover’s chin. Then he fell to his knees and died.Joras stood over Ambroses’s body for but a moment, the dagger held limp in his hand. Kelgore saw the familiar twitch as his puppet's will returned. Joras finally heard Tsonia screaming. He looked around trying to remember where he was. Then he looked down at the dagger in his bloody hand, and past it to the man lying in a spreading crimson pool at his feet.Joras dropped the blade and collapsed sobbing over Ambrose. Kelgore smiled at the agony in the man’s voice as he begged the still-warm corpse for forgiveness.The king knelt next to Tsonia to make it easier for his betrothed to hear his words. When she refused to meet his eye, he took her by the chin and turned her tear-streaked face towards his."You have my word, darling Tsonia,” he said. “I will never kill your friend. But if you continue to defy me, You will.”Tsonia clenched her eyes closed and jerked away from his touch.Kelgore would give his lesson a moment to sink in. He stood and turned to Tsonia’s beastly ex-lover. “You there,” he made a dismissive gesture towards Joras. “Take him away and lock him someplace secure.”The brute easily hefted Joras onto his shoulder and carried him out of the throne room, the howls of lamentation eventually fading in the distance. The king resumed his throne, beckoned a naked serving girl bearing a platter of fruit, and selected a morsel that looked tasty. He noted with a smile that his prisoners’ struggles had ceased.“Now then, Red Tsonia, or, may I call you Kaela?, my proposal,” he began. “You will bear me a host of children. With our demon-blessed powers combined, our offspring will grow to be the most powerful warriors this world has ever seen. They will be the officers who will lead an army of my loyal bastards against the so-called God-King of Xhastria.”Tsonia said nothing.“I’ll take your acceptance as granted. What do you think of that, mother?”“I think you waste decades on what should be a simple conquest," sneered Shala."There is no pleasing you, woman.” Kelgore’s brow furrowed and he wondered how long he could forestall his mother’s restoration ritual. If he could deny her pure blood tonight, she would have to begin the process all over from the beginning.He was contemplating excuses when there was a rush of movement in the far corner of the temple. Snake-face and Skull-face appeared from a darkened passageway that led deeper into the temple than Kelgore had cared to explore. Holy men were always so intractable in their routines. But no matter, he had need of them now.“There you are.” He stood to address the shamans as they hastily approached. “I have grand news. I am to be wed! My bride has arrived at last!” He gestured to Tsonia, bound at spear point on the floor. “Prepare a ceremony fit for your god.”The two elders stopped short. They turned and looked at each other, their expressions hidden behind those damned masks. Kelgore would have removed them, but a holy man in his raiment was so efficient at inspiring compliance from those Kelgore could not turn directly.“It, is good,” said Snake-face at last, using the pidgin Trade Tongue.“We have a, holy place below,” added Skull-face. "Very special. It is only best for our god’s wedding.“"That sounds perfect,” Kelgore agreed. “Find Bird-face and make the preparations. I wish to be married at once.”Snake-face hurried out of the temple, no doubt to fetch whatever sacred vestments he required and to arrange for the wedding feast. Skull-face turned back the way he had come to prepare their most sacred chapel until Kelgore called “Wait!”Skull-face turned around slowly.Kelgore picked up his mother’s head from his throne, strode purposely across the room and handed her to the shaman. “Find someplace secret and quiet to keep this,” Kelgore told him.“Kelgore?’ his mother barked. "What are you doing? Unhand me, you savage charlatan!”“Can’t have you spoiling my wedding night, mother. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”Kelgore bounced back onto his throne and selected another piece of fruit from the girl’s tray as the witch’s screams of invective faded into the darkness. He almost felt sorry for poor Skull-face having to endure her bile. But the savage couldn’t understand a word of it anyway, so it was alright.He looked down at Tsonia, still seething quietly on the floor in front of his throne. “Cheer up, my love!” he taunted her. “Today is the happiest day of your life!”Joras barely noticed where T'pek was carrying him. He didn’t really care either. The enormity of what he had done was threatening to swallow him like a gaping, black maelstrom.He had killed Ambrose.Somehow he had rammed a Vizingian dagger straight into his lover’s heart. And he did not remember doing it. But there was no mistaking the crimson pool surrounding the still body, the look of odd reverie on his bearded features.He had killed Ambrose.There had been long stretches of time when their paths had led them to wander or sail different parts of the world, but when they met, it always was a joyous occasion, much like returning to a safe harbor after a grueling storm. Ambrose was a fierce lover, a wise friend and sometimes even a devilish jester, one of the few people to rile up Tsonia without incurring her wrath. Ambrose was one of the few people to talk some sense into Tsonia when her mind was ablaze with tales of mad adventures, with visions of gold or glory too large even for her to take on, a welcome ally indeed.Now he was gone, struck down by Joras’ own hand.Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, blinding his vision. Suddenly, the world tilted around him and he crumpled to an uneven stone floor, sharp ridges and cracked tiles biting into his knees and ribs and elbows. Behind him, a heavy door banged shut. Joras did not care. If the gods were indeed just, he would die and be reunited with Ambrose.He raised his voice in lamentation for his friend, but only a choked sob escaped him.A horrid, wheezing cough answered him. Wherever he was, Joras was not alone. Mustering what little strength he had, the artist scrabbled into a sitting position, using his sleeve to dab at his swollen eyes and puffy nose. When his vision cleared, he found himself on the floor of a dilapidated room. The walls were at least twenty feet high and made from ancient stone. Parts of the ceiling had crumbled eons ago, leaving a gaping hole which someone had patched with a latticework of wooden beams and sharpened stakes jutting downwards. There was no furniture, just a stone plinth. A shaggy, disheveled bundle lay atop it. As he watched, a spindly, pale-skinned arm shot from the bundle, snatching one of the ever-present tiny rodents. The cough came again as the bundle struggled into a sitting position.Despite his own anguish, Joras gasped in horror. What he had taken for a bundle of skin and fur was a man like himself, emaciated and unkempt, with white-golden hair and a similar beard covering most of his chest. He wore a vest and kilt made from once white fur, now yellowed and ragged and large enough to fit a man twice the stranger’s size. An elaborate belt buckle made from gold and bronze, shaped like crossed axes, seemed utterly out of place in this dismal hell.A third time the stranger coughed, still clutching the squirming rodent. Ignoring Joras, the stranger raised the furry morsel to his mouth and bit into it until the rodent’s panicked squeals finally ended. He tore into the tiny animal, blood running down his beard until he discarded the shredded carcass. The stranger spat a clump of fur and coughed again.“Who, are you?” Joras asked, torn between pity and revulsion. The stranger seemed ill and close to death. The stench emanating from him was eye-watering.The stranger gulped and worked his mouth. Eventually, he spoke. It took Joras some time to recognize the strange vowels of Debon’s tongue. The stranger patted his chest, leaving ghastly fingerprints on his vest.“Aelric,” he muttered. “I am, Aelric.”To be continued in Part 5.By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida for Literotica.

In Season 14, Family Seasons Podcast continues the conversation about Disruptive Thinking. We've learned that disruptive thinking is an individual's ability to challenge conventional thoughts, question established norms, and develop innovative and unconventional ideas. Disruptive thinkers often question the status quo, challenge traditional approaches, and seek alternative solutions to problems. They are unafraid to challenge existing rules and push boundaries to bring about changes and improvements. Disruptive thinking is often associated with creativity, innovation, and a willingness to take risks to achieve breakthroughs. This description of a disruptive thinker describes our special guest, Tasha Odunuyi, or Tasha O. In this episode, Tasha shares a traumatic story that shattered her family forever. As the result of a sibling fight, she loses two of her brothers but finds the strength to fight the justice system, grief, generational family trauma, and so much more. She finds out that she is much stronger than she ever imagined. Listen to the episode at www.familyseasonspodcast.com. #WomenEmpowerment #FamilyTraumaHealing #LifeCoachingforWomen #MentalHealthAwareness #BlackFamiliesResilience #EmpoweringBlackWomen #OvercomingFamilyChallenges #LifeTransformationStories #MentalWellnessStrategies #BlackFamilySupport #WomensMentalHealth #FamilyTraumaRecovery #Life#CoachingInsights #BlackWomensEmpowerment #CopingwithFamilyStress #MindfulnessPractices #ResilienceinBlackFamilies #PersonalGrowthforBlackMen #NavigatingFamilyRelationships #StrengthinAdversity #BlackMenMentalHealth #MenDontCry --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/coachteia/message

On the show this week, we'll round up some sheep with Australia's best working dog, and meet a dressmaker using unexpected materials to make beautiful gowns. We'll hear about some more soccer success for Aussie athletes, and meet a quick-thinking teen who helped save a mates life. After that, it's time for a not quite out-of-this-world Wow of the Week.Quiz Questions1.What kind of dog is Earl, the winner of this years challenge?2.What will happen to Carmen's dress when she pops it on the ground and leaves it for a while?3.Who did the Paramatildas beat in the final?4.What kind of special training did James know, that helped him save his friend?5.Is this crater bigger or smaller than the one left by the asteroid that might have killed the dinosaurs?Bonus Tricky QuestionHow far did Earl the dog run over the three weeks?Answers1.Kelpie2.It will disintegrate/ break down and go back into the earth3.Japan4.First Aid5.Bigger - three times bigger!Bonus Tricky Answer1300km, further than the distance from Brisbane to Canberra

In today's podcast, Tawana Lowery provides transformational insights on the importance of Unstoppable Desire and the critical role it plays in planting a mustard seed of hope. Listen as she encourages you to never throw away your desire; it is the key to receiving what you are hoping and believing for. Desire is where Faith begins.  We don't need a large shovel to plant a mustard seed. We can plant a Mustard Seed of Hope with just a Teaspoon of Desire!      Taken from “Miss Overcomer Empower Moments.” All content is Copyrighted by Tawana Lowery and Women World Leaders and cannot be used without express written consent.   A few weeks ago, I was praying about some close relationships that never panned out the way I had hoped. Although God has completely healed my heart from the pain that was created, I was still curious about the choices others had made concerning me. And so, I asked God, “Lord, what was their reason for NOT including me and NOT accepting me??? I wasn't lamenting or demanding and answer. I was simply trying to connect the dots on the rationale behind it. He said… “They didn't Want to. They just didn't want to.” Truthfully, I was a bit surprised at the simplicity of God's response….   I guess I was expecting to hear some deep spiritual answer. But he just said… “They simply didn't want to.” And then he said, “What I told you is profound when you think about it. In fact, it's very insightful… spiritually speaking”.  Want = Desire  And Desire is where Faith begins!  Conversely, the lack of desire is where Hardness of Heart begins… because it means we've given up hope! Immediately my mind went to the story of the Lame man at the Pool of Bethesda (as recorded in John chapter 5). And I realized why Jesus chose the words he did when engaging the lame man.   By the time Jesus came on the scene, the Bible says this man had been in the same condition for 38 years. That's a lifetime when you think about it. But Jesus question was intended to expose the man's heart and where he was in his ability to believe for a miracle.   Jesus said, “Do you WANT to be healed.” He was basically asking the man… “After all this time… after all the disappointment… after all the waiting… after watching others receive their miracle…  Do you STILL WANT IT, or have you Given up?  In other words, “Do you still have a Desire? Do you still have a little bit of want to?”  “Because if you have just a teaspoon of desire… I can work with that!”   I also believe Jesus was showing us the Heavenly equation on Faith. He is saying that our Desire, even if it's small, is where faith begins.” I believe this perfectly aligns with what Rabbi Paul (or the apostle Paul) admonishes in Hebrews 11:1.   “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”   In other words:  Desire produces Hope and Hope produces Faith!  And although our Desires are not immediately visible, they can be made visible if we don't give up!   So, you could say… “Now Faith is the Substance of things Hoped for… the evidence of our Desires!”   I think we can also see this in the story about the Women with a Bleeding Disorder (Luke 8:43-48). After years of suffering and tons of disappointing results, her self-talk is quite remarkable. And gives us insight into the results she experienced from Jesus. She said, “If I can only….” WOW. Those are the words of “Desire.” She was saying… In spite of it all, I still Want It! And her my desire fed her hope that provided the strength to DRAG herself away from a place of hopelessness and onto the highway of life. Jesus said to her, “Your FAITH has made you whole.” But it started with her teaspoon of Desire! Her teaspoon of DESIRE kept hope alive… And it positioned her to COME ALIVE with healing!!!   Let's look at one more example found in Luke 5:17-26. When we think about unstoppable Desire, this story should get the POSTER award! You know it well. Four Men are trying to get their paralyzed friend to Jesus in the HOPES that he will be healed.   And there are a lot of obstacles in the way… Lots of reasons to give up and go home! But, because of their strong desire, it fueled their hope. The scriptures tell us that when Jesus saw THEIR Faith. When he saw their unstoppable desire, their friend was made whole.   You know… sometimes I think we make our faith walk harder than it needs to be. Sometimes we think it takes a whole lot of faith just to have faith! Sometimes we think it takes a giant shovel to plant a Mustard Seed. But that's not true!   I believe these passages tell us that we can plant a Mustard Seed with a Teaspoon! I believe it is telling us that our DESIRE (even if it's small) is the key to receiving.   But, let's go back and visit the first example about the man at the Pool of Bethesda in John 5. Because his story is slightly different from the others. This man didn't pursue Jesus. Jesus came to him. But WHY? I'm sure there were other infirmed people by the pool that day. So, why this man?   Well, I think we can learn something from the question Jesus asked him. Jesus already knew what his answer would be. I think Jesus came to this man because Jesus knew there was still a teaspoon of Desire in his heart. The problem was, he had been placing his HOPE in others.   His initial response was, “Lord, when the waters stir I have no one to help me!” This poor man had spent all those years hoping in others. WOW! How many of us can relate to that?   And this is how the enemy tries to kill our Desire. He tries to kill it through Misplaced Hope. Because if we take our desire FOR something, but put our hope IN something or someone other than God, we will experience disappointment, heartache, etc.   And, if we do that long enough, we'll be tempted to GIVE UP. We'll be tempted to throw away our Desire and our Want To! Possibly the other people around the pool had already given up and had given themselves over to hardness or heart. I also believe Jesus is showing us that Hardness of Heart is the real danger. And it happens when we stop Desiring, when we throw away our Want To!   But what this also demonstrates is that we need to be Vigilant to Guard our Hearts from growing cold and indifferent. We can bypass the hard heartedness if we commit our Desires to Jesus. If we place all our Hope in him only.    HE and HE alone is the Author and the Finisher of our Faith. The scriptures say… the Lord will give you (Freely give you) the desires of your heart.  He is the one who initiates the Desire and He is the one who brings it to completion.   Galatians 6:9 encourages us to, “Not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we don't give up.” In other words, when we seek God to keep our heart's desires, and if we ask him for continued strength to forgive and to think on things above, we will reap a harvest from the mustard seed we have planted (with our Teaspoon of Desire). Proverbs 4:23 says, “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.” Sisters, we must resist the temptation to give up on our Desires, because it will determine our line of thinking and believing and receiving!   So, you might be thinking, “What about people who gave up their desire and didn't realize the cost involved? What if someone put their hope in others because the enemy seduced them into believing a lie? What does the Bible have to say to those people?” We're basically asking, “Will God redeem the unbelief?” In a word, YES! And the scriptures confirm it! Isaiah 1:18, the Lord invites us to talk with him about anything that separated us from him on any level so we can be made new again! “Come now, let's reason together (lets talk about this thing that tripped you up!) Though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. (Even though the unbelief and dooms day thinking left a stain on you heart and mind… give it to me and I will replace it with a resurrected heart and mind!)”   1 John 3:20 reads, “If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.” In other words, he is compassionate and understands our weakness and is always there to bring us out! Maybe you're feeling weary right now? Maybe you're feeling tempted to throw away your Desire?  It could be because of your vocation…  Or you might feel weary concerning a special relationship.  Maybe you're disheartened because of a life interruption that you weren't prepared for.   Or maybe you still have a little desire, but you're growing weary because of Misplaced Hope.  Possibly you put hope in the performance or acceptance of a spouse, a child, a friend, or even a religious leader. It is a common snare. We've all made that mistake before!   Lastly, you might be the person thinking you need HUGE Faith just to have small faith.  In other words, maybe you devalued your simple Desires… not realizing how much God can use it.  Maybe you feel overwhelmed at the thought of Mustering up hope because you think it requires a giant shovel to plant a mustard seed?  That's okay… because our sense of lack is the perfect place to start. Just think about the miracle of the Loaves and Fishes.  Whether we use a shovel or a teaspoon, we must place it in God's hands if we're going to reap a harvest. If any of those scenarios apply to you, then with your permission, I'd like to lead you in prayer. Heavenly Father, I bring this weariness to the cross in the name of Jesus. You've told me to cast ALL my care upon you… because you care for me. And Lord, this weariness is more than I can bear. Forgive me for trying to carry it on my own. And Lord, where I'm tempted to give up on the desires of my heart, forgive me… I know you don't condemn me… In fact you are always ready to rescue me from any temptation that might separate me from your perfect love. And that includes feeling alone and isolated and hopeless. Father, reveal to my heart any area where I have been tempted to put my hope in someone or something other than you… Forgive me for putting my hope in another person, or in myself or a certain outcome.   I bring the misplaced hope… this temptation to despair, the unbelief and giving up to the cross of Jesus. I asked that this part of my heart that's been wounded would be made dead on the cross, crucified and buried… and the wine skin that's contained it all these years. And any area of my heart that has exchanged the truth for a lie… I asked that it would be made dead this very moment… on the cross of Jesus. Father of glory… I ask to be Resurrect in Jesus with a NEW heart and a NEW mind and a NEW wineskin. Lord… fill me with new wine that I can live a brand-new life!! In Jesus mighty and glorious name…. Amen.   Copyrighted by Tawana Lowery and Miss Overcomer Global and cannot be used without express written consent.   July 2023          

Chapter 28 - The Flight of the PrinceQ1 - What are your thoughts on Dumbledore's death?Q2 - Who do you think has died so far?“Cruc —” But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backward off his feet before he could complete it; “Cruc —” yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again. Harry could see him sneering. “No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!” he shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. “You haven't got the nerve or the ability —” “Incarc —” Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm. Q3 - Is Snape really an amazing wizard?“Fight back!” Harry screamed at him. “Fight back, you cowardly —” “Coward, did you call me, Potter?” shouted Snape. “Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?” “Sectum — !” Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi — “No, Potter!” screamed Snape. “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them — I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so . . . no!” Q4 - Thoughts on Snape being the Half-Blood Prince?“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward —” “DON'T—” screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them — “CALL ME COWARD!”Q5 - Is Snape a coward?Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him. He had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet. Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help. . . . Q6 - Dumbledore is actually dead?To the Dark Lord I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.BQ7 - Theories on who RAB is?Q8 - Did Dumbledore die for nothing?Q9 - What is your favorite Dumbledore memory?Chapter 29 - The Phoenix LamentFear stirred in Harry's chest again: He had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind. “Ginny, who else is dead?” “Don't worry, none of us.” “But the Dark Mark — Malfoy said he stepped over a body —” “He stepped over Bill, but it's all right, he's alive.” There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill. “Are you sure?” “Of course I'm sure . . . he's a — a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won't — won't look the same anymore. . . .”Q1 - Do you think Harry understands the cost of what this fight is all about?“No!” Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said. Q2 - Have you ever experienced grief like this?Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows. How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: There were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped. “Snape,” repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. “We all wondered . . . but he trusted . . . always . . . Snape . . . I can't believe it. . . .”Q3 - Do you think the professors knew better?Q4 - Is there anything about the story that the group is giving that is strange to you or hits you differently? Are there any clues in there?“Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks. . . . It's not r-really important . . . but he was a very handsome little b-boy . . . always very handsome . . . and he was g-going to be married!” “And what do you mean by zat?” said Fleur suddenly and loudly. “What do you mean, ‘ 'e was going to be married?' ” Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking startled. “Well — only that —” “You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?” demanded Fleur. “You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?” “No, that's not what I —” “Because 'e will!” said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. “It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!” “Well, yes, I'm sure,” said Mrs. Weasley, “but I thought perhaps — given how — how he —” “You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?” said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. “What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!” she added fiercely, pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her. Q5 - How cool is Fleur?“You see!” said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. “She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!” “It's different,” said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. “Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely —” “But I don't care either, I don't care!” said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin's robes and shaking them. “I've told you a million times. . . .” And the meaning of Tonks's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all. “And I've told you a million times,” said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, “that I am too old for you, too poor . . . too dangerous. . . .” “I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus,” said Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back. “I am not being ridiculous,” said Lupin steadily. “Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.” “But she wants you,” said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. “And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.” Q6 - What do you think of Lupin and Tonks?“Harry,” she said, “I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school.” “I can't tell you that, Professor,” said Harry. Q7 - Why doesn't Harry tell more people about this?“Dunno,” said Harry, lying back on his bed fully clothed and staring blankly upwards. He felt no curiosity at all about R.A.B.: He doubted that he would ever feel curious again. As he lay there, he became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing. And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the school, had left the world . . . had left Harry. Chapter 30 - The White TombThere might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere, and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Voldemort could be killed. He kept reciting their names to himself, as though by listing them he could bring them within reach: the locket . . . the cup . . . the snake . . . something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's . . . the locket . . . the cup . . . the snake . . . something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's . . . Q1 - Any further ideas on what the Horcruxes could be?“I should've shown the book to Dumbledore,” said Harry. “All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was too —” Q2 - If Harry could have Dumbledore back for one question, what question should he ask him?The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. Neville and Luna alone of the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore had died, and Harry knew why: They were the ones who had missed the D.A. most . . . probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting. Q3 - What do you think of Umbridge at the funeral?And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone. . . . He clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes: He looked away from Ginny and the others and stared out over the lake, toward the forest, as the little man in black droned on. . . . There was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects too. They did not move into the open but Harry saw them standing quite still, half hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging at their sides. And Harry remembered his first nightmarish trip into the forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. . . . Q4 - Will Harry win this fight?And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died, and he was more alone than he had ever been before. “Ginny, listen . . .” he said very quietly, as the buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet, “I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together.” She said, with an oddly twisted smile, “It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?” “It's been like . . . like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you,” said Harry. “But I can't . . . we can't . . . I've got things to do alone now.”Q5 - You think Harry is right to break up with Ginny?“I'm not coming back even if it does reopen,” said Harry. Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, “I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?” “I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to,” said Harry. “But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good.” Q6 - What is Harry going to do?“We'll be there, Harry,” said Ron. “What?” “At your aunt and uncle's house,” said Ron. “And then we'll go with you wherever you're going.” “No —” said Harry quickly; he had not counted on this, he had meant them to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone. “You said to us once before,” said Hermione quietly, “that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we? “We're with you whatever happens,” said Ron. “But mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow.” “Why?” “Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?” Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful. “Yeah, we shouldn't miss that,” he said finally. His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione. Q7 - How'd you like this book?Q8 - What is in store for the group in the future?Q9 - Rank the books so far?

On this episode, I go over a powerful story that deeply relates to you and your suffering. I am talking about Jonah and the Whale. I get into the beginning steps of anxiety recovery. Why things get WORSE if you keep to your old ways. Why the ADVENTURE of recovery is the only way out of suffering. You do not want to miss this episode!   —The Anxiety Recovery Program— https://unpluganxiety.com/my-program/ —1 on 1 Coaching— https://unpluganxiety.com/1-on-1-coaching/ —The Website— https://unpluganxiety.com

Once upon a time, a wound as simple as a scratch could lead to death. Many of incredible advances in medicine and medical care since were driven by the exigencies of war. Tanisha Fazal has conducted a fascinating study that examines the relationship between military medicine and military effectiveness in interstate wars globally since 1900. She's in the studio with podcast editor Ron Granieri to discuss the outcomes of the study and the methodology her team used to arrive at their conclusions. Whether it is technological advances, or changes in tactics, techniques and procedures like the golden-hour rule or the platinum fifteen minutes, medicine has a profound effect on not just the ability to field a force but also its morale.

This week there is a special emphasis on tweens and teens. Tune in for real-time examples of how you can identify time blindness, how to support the development of autonomy and responsibility, and avoiding overwhelm and shutting down with your teen. One tool that we specifically discuss, and happens to be one of our favorites, is creating bookends. We discuss how to use "bookend" activities to support dopamine loading to muster the motivation to complete necessary tasks. Listen to this week's episodes for more actionable tips and tricks to support your kids and just how unique the ADHD brain is. Find Calm Mom Happy Kids here: https://candid-truth-726.myflodesk.com/ BIG NEWS! You can now find us and every episode of season three on youtube at https://youtube.com/@mindfulasamotherpodcast2606 We've recently created a special video series on responsive parenting techniques adapted to your neurodivergent child. Check out our new video series at https://stan.store/Mindfulasamother

This week there is a special emphasis on tweens and teens. Tune in for real-time examples of how you can identify time blindness, how to support the development of autonomy and responsibility, and avoiding overwhelm and shutting down with your teen. One tool that we specifically discuss, and happens to be one of our favorites, is creating bookends. We discuss how to use "bookend" activities to support dopamine loading to muster the motivation to complete necessary tasks. Listen to this week's episodes for more actionable tips and tricks to support your kids and just how unique the ADHD brain is. Find Calm Mom Happy Kids here: https://candid-truth-726.myflodesk.com/ BIG NEWS! You can now find us and every episode of season three on youtube at https://youtube.com/@mindfulasamotherpodcast2606 We've recently created a special video series on responsive parenting techniques adapted to your neurodivergent child. Check out our new video series at https://stan.store/Mindfulasamother

As promised, here is part 2 of our chat with Munro Hardy. While he's only 35 years young, holy hatbox he has managed to fit a lot into a short space of time! In this episode he shares stories from his time working in live export, contract mustering, and a pretty hairy tale from a trip to Egypt... If you haven't listened to Part 1, go back and listen first!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Murray Jackson is transitioning to a low-maintenance breed of sheep that shed their coarse hair coat while his son embraces new technology

Jeremy, Kylie, Matt and David have an extended chat about Rohan. 0:00:00 Intro 0:04:02 Know Thine Enemy 1:54:42 Keep it Secret 2:35:14 Scenario Spotlight 2:50:10 Mustering an Army Lists here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hsqqNLwlA8IKrcvhIO-bZvz2QA2qxf0f/view?usp=share_link

William Episode 27: Hello, thank you for joining us today! It takes a near act of God for someone to stand back and view themselves, and their culture with a wide angle lens - To rise above their own time and view things from an eternal or heavenly perspective. Everyone can and usually does critique history  quite well when they look back on time… But it's something special and rare for one to do it in real time and space with grace and with truth. It is nearly impossible for people to internally realize the their own personal short comings, or their blind spots, and then to recognize it externally, in their own time and culture, without having adopted it, or more often, become complacent to it. Above this, it is even more difficult to not only see the changes that need to be made but then do the hard work in implementing them - to actually change the cultural and political norm of one's day. To try this and fail, and get up and fail again, time and time again…..To get back up and try over and over…. until your life is spent….with no promise of success. This is what we'll look at in today's narrative.I was going to say that this is “a” story…. but really, due to its immense scope, its nature, and its extreme rarity, this is “the” story of a man's life given to change a worldwide and institutional practice, so openly accepted and ingrained in cultures times-past, that to identify it and capture it, would be like trying to separate the air surrounding you from the air inside your lungs…. Slavery was normal. It was in the air that all people breathed. Although practiced by all people in all of history, the very small framed William Wilburforce determined to change that. By the grace of God, William would spearhead the movement that would change the world forever.Eric Metaxas wrote, that “[William] Wilberforce overturned not just European civilization's view of slavery but its view of almost everything in the human sphere; and that is why it's nearly impossible to do justice to the enormity of his accomplishment: it was nothing less than a fundamental and important shift in human conscience.” Intro XVLet's look into William's life and times and ask God to give us clarity, and vision for what He may have for us in our life and times today.……Episode 27, William, starts now.William Wilberforce was born on August 24th, 1759. He was an abnormally small and fragile boy — in fact he would never grow taller than 5' 3”. From his childhood, William would suffer from a weak and sickly constitution accompanied with poor eyesight. So, with the recent death of his eldest sister and his father, the young and ill-looking eight-year-old, William, felt even smaller. On top of this all, William's mother was becoming very sick. With her nearing the verge of death, his relatively comfortable world that he had known was crashing down around him.As a result of losing his father, sister, and now, possibly his mother, little William was forced to move from his small town of Hull close to the large city of London with his Aunt Hannah and Uncle William. Not only was he moving to a completely new environment, with a new school, and new caretakers, but his Aunt as Uncle were Methodists.The new break off sect of the Church of England started by John Wesley nearly three decades before was largely viewed with contempt. At the time, Methodists were considered to be religious radicals - fanatics who took the gospel of Jesus seriously and passionately in a time where Bibles were only opened on Sunday mornings and where Christian teachings stayed safely within church walls. Both Anglicans and non-religious people frowned upon Methodists and their zeal of God. Later, William wrote about this time in his life saying, “It's impossible for you to have any idea of the hatred in which the Methodists were then held. I cannot better explain it to you than by than saying that it is more like the account given in Ivanhoe of the persecutions against the Jews, than anything else I know.” (Metaxas, p. 12).At the time, the prospect for the small and fatherless boy seemed overwhelming. Yet, this was the plan of God for William, without which he would never be the same - nor would the world.___________________________________________________________________________William's Aunt and Uncle had a profound influence upon the young boy — and it was precisely because they were not, what William's mother had hoped, just nominal Anglicans. Besides being extremely wealthy, and befriending many notable people in both the church and state, it was from them that William truly saw the Christian faith put into everyday practice. His Aunt and Uncle were also friends with some of the most dominate Christian figures of the century, namely, John Newton and George Whitefield.Whitefield had traveled to America several times and was on his 13th and last trip to America when William came to live with his Aunt and Uncle. Whitefield, had an impact on William, although indirectly, as it's doubtful the two ever met. But young William did meet John Newton, the slave trader-turned-pastor and author of “Amazing Grace”. Throughout the years, the two became very close. William regarded Newton as his spiritual father. By the age of fourteen, William wrote a paper against the slave trade. No doubt, much of his knowledge of it came from Newton's influence.Concerned that William was being overly affected by her Methodist relatives, William's mother and grandfather moved him back to Hull. William had only spent two years with his Aunt and Uncle but he had grown to cherish them dearly. He wrote them shortly after leaving London saying, “I can never forget you as long as I live.” (Metaxas 12). Soon after William reluctantly returned to Hull, to his delight, the headmaster of his school, Joseph Milner, had become a passionate Methodist as well. And so, despite being in Hull, mostly surrounded by people who were nothing like his Aunt and Uncle, William still found encouragement in these formative years while his young faith and biblical worldview were developing.Just 3 months after the rebels in the United States declared their independence from Britain, the seventeen year old William entered St. John's College in Cambridge in 1776.___________________________________________________________________________Typical of young men his age, college for William began with much socializing, singing, card playing and late night drinking. In these years, William was blossoming into a charismatic man. Because he could sing quite well and charm people with his speech, he was always looked on with favor and gladly received by all people. William had the unique ability to captivate those around him with the rare and welcomed capability to be both moral and entertaining. With the recent death of his grandfather, William was left with a large inheritance which not only allowed William to throw extravagant parties, but would be crucial in his future in politics, where money played a big part in being elected.William's induction into Parliament came earlier than he probably intended. In college, William became close friends with William Pitt. Pitt, a statesmen himself, was the son of the famed Prime Minister, William Pitt the Elder. Throughout college, the two young Williams became very close and maintained a devoted friendship that would last for years to come. It was with Pitt's encouragement that William decided to try his hand in politics — getting the idea to represent the city of Hull in the House of Commons. Having just turned 21, and throwing a birthday party sparing no expense, William found himself elected as a member of Parliament, having received more votes than his two challengers combined. And within only a few years, his dear friend advanced in his own career as a politician. The twenty four-year-old, William Pitt, would become the youngest Prime Minister in English history, being appointed by the King on December 18, 1783.But in the midst of all the limelight and success, William began to question his existence, namely his faith and purpose in life. As he mused on the simple faith he once had as a child, he could not help but notice the dreadful gap between himself and God's holiness. He read the Bible often leading him to confess in his diary, “I believe all the great truths of the Christian religion, but I am not acting as though I did.” (Metaxas, p. 53). Wanting to have a real faith like his Aunt and Uncle, William found himself in a predicament as Methodists and their ilk were still not welcomed in Parliament or high society, both of which William was deeply entwined.It's no wonder then that William spent much of his time reading, praying, and writing in his diary, about the looming decision awaiting him. William knew that he wanted to pursue and follow God above all else. This was the “Great Change” that William would refer to years later. Having reached out to his close fiends and mentors for advice, William laid out the problem that he wanted to be a faithful Christian but that it was probably incompatible with a life of a politician. His dear friend Pitt acknowledged William's desire to live as a Christian unfettered by social or political constraints but encouraged him to stay in Parliament. Heartened, William was still not convinced and decided to converse with his old friend John Newton, who was now sixty years old. Newton, like Pitt, advised William that a life of politics and religion can indeed coexist. Soon after, speaking of William, Newton wrote a friend, “I hope the Lord will make him a blessing both as a Christian and a statesman. How seldom do these characteristics coincide!! But they are not incompatible.” (Metaxas p. 61).With that, William had decided to remain in parliament — resolved to let his faith in God dictate not only his character but more importantly the policies he would soon put forward. It was a balance act. With diligence, William now had to let his biblical theology or those “great Christian truths” permeate his  personal and political life, without losing his influence and charismatic ability to persuade.  ___________________________________________________________________________The twenty-six-tear-old, was now back in the House of Commons and set before himself two “great objects” that he would sacrifice the remainder of his life to. The second of the “great objects” was the reformation of manners. Being in the very heart of London, William had a front row seat to society's many ailments that not only affected the poor, but the rich, and everyone in between. Being one the largest cities of the time, disease, overcrowding and crime were rampant. The death penalty was unjust and carried out by public hangings and even public burnings at times. Grotesque violence was commonplace. Animal cruelty like dogfights and bull-baiting were also displayed in the public square for people's amusement. Alcoholism and addiction were also destroying families namely among the poor. Many infants were often abandoned and died from neglect as more and more parents left reality for the temporary comfort of alcohol and opium. Poverty also led many to obtain finances through the the sex trade. At the time, twenty-five percent of unmarried women in London were prostitutes. The average age of those girls was sixteen and there were even brothels that provided the services of fourteen year-old adolescents.This dark culture in which William lived stood in stark contrast to many of the core truths of Christianity like self control, sobriety, sexual purity, and compassion. All of these Christian characteristics and callings were based upon the foundational doctrine of seeing the “Imago Dei” the (image of God) in oneself and in others. As a result, its no wonder that most people didn't see anything wrong or immoral with the slave trade. It was just another custom of the culture. Thus, William's second “great object” to change or reform the practices of society, naturally led to his first “great object” — the suppression of the slave trade.While Willian was laying the groundwork towards both of these goals, it wasn't until he was twenty-eight years old that he famously penned in his diary, “God almighty has set before me two great objects: the suppression of the slave trade and the reformation of manners.” (Metaxas p. 85). Soon after, William determinedly wrote, ”So enormous, so dreadful, so irremediable did the [slave] trade's wickedness appear that my own mind was completely made up for abolition. Let the consequences be what they would: I from this time determined that I would never rest until I had effected it's abolition.” ___________________________________________________________________________The task in front William did not just seem overwhelming, it was. For years to come, more than he could have ever thought, William would have to work with all types of people in every possible way to see any amount of success. Thankfully, there were others who shared his same sentiments and like him, were willing to risk their livelihood. From artist's, poets, theologians, and preachers to Quakers, sailors, and escaped slaves, all participated in various ways.In 1783, four years before William penned his two ‘great objects' the Quakers had already set up the ‘Committee on the Slave Trade' which attracted the attention of Granville Sharp and Thomas Clarkson — two giants in the cause to end slavery. Under their leadership, the Quakers committee soon became the more influential 'Society for the Abolition of the Slave Trade'. At this same time, (1787) William helped to found the ‘Society for the Reformation of Manners'.But just as the movement was gaining recognition, and William was laying the groundwork to bring a bill to the House of Commons, he became very sick with fevers and exhaustion. In February of 1788 William became so ill with diarrhea and chronic stomach pain that doctors believed he was nearing death. After aiding him, the physicians concluded that William was suffering from an “absolute decay of all [his] digestive tracts.” Fearing the worst, they began to prescribe Opium. To their surprise, the opiate which William would remain on for the remainder of his life, worked better than expected. While he slowly regained his strength, William would be afflicted with stomach infections for the rest of his life and dependent upon the drug which didn't help his worsening eyesight.Despite this setback, about a year and a half after this, on May 12, 1789, William was back in the House of Commons. Mustering all of his oratory skills, William delivered his first major speech, putting forward twelve propositions for abolition of the slave trade. His discourse would last for three-and-a-half hours through which he graphically explained the horrific conditions of the  transatlantic route. Although William made the case that his propositions would be economically beneficial to the country, he did not hide that the primary purpose for abolition should be due to principle — the principles of conscience and of justice, and ultimately “the laws of religion and of God.”While the oration was noted as being one of William's greatest by many notable people, the members of Parliament remained unconvinced. The debate ended with a decision to hear more evidence. In effect, nothing politically or lawfully changed and so William and all those working with him suffered their first of many legislative defeats. And although William's speech heartened many, as it vocalized a growing movement toward civility, it also raised the ire of others.William had become the most public target of many who opposed abolition. Scottish biographer and lawyer, James Boswell, turned on William by publishing a blistering rhyme attacking not only his Christian faith but small stature writing, “Go Wilberforce with narrow skull, Go home and preach away at Hull. Go, Wilberforce, be gone, for shame, Thou dwarf with big resounding name,” (Metaxas p. 156). The Prince of Wales also singled out William as did the King of England's third son, the Duke of Clarence. William's life was directly threatened by some slave-ship captains. Besides this, fanciful rumors were spread around that William was a cruel and violent husband — a man who would often beat his wife. Regardless that William wasn't even courting a woman at the time, let alone married, the constant attacks upon him and his cause were always hurtful. For many across the globe, their income was directly or indirectly dependent upon the well being of the slave trade. Thus, William's leadership for its abolition was unwanted and resisted tooth and nail.Regardless, year after year, William was resolute in putting forth bills to chip away at the institution from every possible angle. And for various reasons, (whether it was because the French Revolution was unfolding to the south or the American rebels fighting for independence across the Atlantic) England found itself intertwined among dangerous revolutions discovering reasons or excuses to hinder any progress for abolition. Meanwhile, that the barbaric and evil slave trade ran as usual, was not lost to William. It vexed him greatly. But although precious time was passing into the darkness of history, William's purpose and resolve was only growing brighter. After ten years the tide was beginning to change.___________________________________________________________________________A welcomed reprieve and a great personal encouragement to William after many years of legislative losses, was meeting his future wife, Barbara Ann Spooner. In April of 1797, the two met at a dinner party in the city of Bath. Only after eight days of getting to know each other, they were engaged and would be married within a month's time. On May 30, of the same year, the thirty-seven-year-old William married his twenty-year-old bride Barbara Ann. Although she nearly died from typhoid early in their marriage, Barbara recovered and would continue raising a family with her husband. And within ten short years of marriage, William found himself closer than ever to his beautiful wife, who shared his same heart for Christian reform, while fathering two girls and four young boys. With Barbara's influence and help, William would not only continue to fight for abolition, but many other social changes as well. In 1804, William helped found the British and Foreign Bible Society as well and the Church Missionary Society. In a very real sense, the more missionaries bringing Christian principles to new people groups could only bolster the movement for abolition.As William had become painfully aware, he'd need all the help he could get. But oddly, that help to advance abolition came through the early death of his best friend and Prime Minister, William Pitt. In January of 1806, the forty-six-year-old Pitt died from ulcers and chronic stomach problems. He past away unmarried and without any children. William Grenville, Pitt's cousin, and long time friend of Wilburforce was then elected as the new Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Grenville, who had long believed the slave trade was an evil and cruel institution, sensed the public sentiment was leaning in favor of abolition and decided to become personally involved in the battle to help advance it.By now though, after nearly two decades of losses, the forty-seven-year-old William, was not as optimistic. But although the small framed man was even smaller and weaker than he had been as a youth, his spirit and mind were not. And even though William had endured many political defeats, he was still heartened by the Prime Minister's willingness to engage in the progress for abolition. On January 2, 1807 Grenville personally read the bill before the House of Lords. A month later on February 5, the second reading of the bill was given. This ignited a long debate in Parliament that would last throughout the night. Again, Grenville, the new Prime Minister, gave a speech championing William's twenty year effort to abolish the slave trade. And as Wilburforce had done years before, Grenville likewise appealed to his fellow member's morality — presenting the case that the bill for abolition should pass because it was both the ethical and virtuous choice for any nation, let alone a Christian one.After many orations were presented throughout the night, in a stunning ending, the votes were finally cast and tallied at 5:00 in the morning. The bill for abolition had past by 46 counts! Undoubtedly, William and all those with him were surprised and thrilled. But William's excitement was tempered as the bill would still need to pass one last time in the House of Commons. The date was set three weeks away for February 23.William knew that for the bill to succeed in it's final reading and vote, God would have to “turn the hearts of men” — namely, the West Indian planters who constantly resisted the bill. But by William's political insight, he astonishingly counted on having their favor. By an act of God's grace, William believed that abolition had now become popular, even to some of those who prospered from it. The twenty years of effort and sacrifice from William and all those working with him had changed the public's sentiment and it seemed now that the writing was on the wall.At last, the day arrived for the bill's 3rd and final reading. After commencing, member after member arose to give their speech. As one finished, more eagerly stood to address the Parliament. As the hours past, the momentum seemed to be swelling, not only in favor of abolition but in favor of its champion, William Wilburforce. Sir Samuel Romilly, the solicitor-general  and an admirer of William stirred the crowd to tears by eloquently contrasting Wilburforce as England's peacemaker to Napoleon as France's warlord. Humbled by this show of approval and praise, William began to shed tears of joy. Upon seeing this, the house was filled with great applause and sincere cheers! It was in this atmosphere that the 299 votes were then cast. After a short count, the House would vote 283 in favor of the bill to only 16 against.The battle to end the slave trade was officially won on February 23, 1807.___________________________________________________________________________Although the slave trade had legally ended in England, nearly 20 years after William resolved to end it, slavery itself had not. While terminating the trade would serve as a moral light for other countries to emulate, the question that William would continue to fight for was whether England could go even further and abolish slavery all together. By now, William was not young, nor was he healthy, but he was mature and determined to continue the battle to reform England's manners — which included many social reforms but could not be made more evident than to legally abolish slavery.And so, William went from one monumental battle straight into the next. In 1813, William convinced Parliament to permit Christian missionaries to India. Soon after this, he and his friends began an antislavery public opinion campaign never seen before in English history. “In 1814 they had gathered one million signatures, one-tenth of the population, on 800 petitions, which they delivered to the House of Commons.” (Christianity Today). In 1822, he helped form the anti-Slavery Society which officially launched his campaign for the emancipation of slaves the year after.But only 2 years after this, in 1825 the sixty-six-year-old retired from the House of Commons. His health was suffering more than normal and once again, his life was in danger from pro-slavery radicals. Although William's workload was reduced now working from home, he remained involved for emancipation as much as he possibly could. The movement to abolish slavery within Parliament was in other capable hands and there was much to do behind the scenes. So, like the many years before, William would work tirelessly for the years to come. Knowing that his time was drawing near, the seventy-two-year-old made another anti-slavery speech at a public meeting in April 1833. It would be his last.Surely the old man thought that hoping to abolish slavery entirely was too large of an ambition — a youthful promise made in relative and emotional haste that was probably more foolhardy than courageous. But even if emancipation was not to be seen in his lifetime, William took comfort, especially in his last days, that he fought for it for nearly half a century. On July 19, William likened himself to an old clock that was winding down. He was 73 years old and as his health continued to decline, William found himself surrounded by loved ones who all knew what was soon to come.But then, something unexpected came on a Friday night, July 26 — and it was great news! A report came that the government had just conceded, granting freedom to all slaves in the British Empire. At last, the Slavery Abolition Act had officially passed. William could hardly believe it! All at once, his life's aim was granted, his prayers answered, his struggle was over and on the following day, William reveled in it!“Who can dream what went through the old man's mind that day? To know that the battle for emancipation was really and truly over, and won—to know that every slave in the vast reaches of the British Empire would soon have his legal freedom and could never again suffer under such a system. Such a Saturday of joy as Wilberforce lived that day can only come after a thousand Saturdays of battle. But it had come. It was a dream come true.” (Metaxas p. 275). A dream, that would indeed console his dying body for a few more days. For in the early hours of Monday morning, July 29, 1833, William Wilburforce, exhaled for the last time.  Days later, the York Herald newspaper eulogized Wilberforce writing that towards him:"...there is probably associated more love and veneration than ever fell to the lot of any civilised individual throughout the civilised globe ...  His warfare is accomplished, his cause is finished; he kept the Faith. Those who regard him merely as a philanthropist, in the worldly sense of that abused term, know but little of his character”. (https://www.mylearning.org/stories/william-wilberforce/168) 

Many people begin thinking about decluttering and organization in January, but it's such a good idea to begin simplifying your home leading up to Christmas. Creating a more peaceful home environment can help you and your family enjoy this busy season more, and it helps prepare your home for an influx of new clutter after Christmas! Shannon of Home Made Lovely joins me in this episode to talk about her new book, The Clutter Fix. We all know that clutter doesn't make us feel good, but so many of us get stuck on what to actually do about it. Shannon not only teaches about how to declutter and organize, but she also dives into our mindsets and personalities around the topic of clutter. This is such a practical episode with lots of bite-size, actionable steps you can take today! In this episode, we cover: Mustering up your decluttering motivation with some quick wins from the get-go The unexpected cost of disorganization Uncovering your clutter personality and how you can make meaningful change The myth of the one-time decluttering sweep Changing your mindset about clutter and organization Handling kids' clutter and teaching them to manage their belongings Taking into consideration the different personalities of our household members when it comes to clutter and organization Getting started: how to know what to get rid of View full show notes and transcript on the blog + watch this episode on YouTube. Thank you to our sponsors! TOUPS AND CO ORGANICS | Use code FARMHOUSE at ToupsandCo.com BLOGGING SUCCESS MASTERCLASS | Visit bit.ly/FarmhouseBloggingSchool RESOURCES MENTIONED The Clutter Fix by Shannon Acheson 50 Things You Should Throw Away Today + Free Printable Checklist by Shannon Acheson CONNECT Shannon Acheson of Home Made Lovely | Blog | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube | Pinterest Lisa Bass of Farmhouse on Boone | Blog | YouTube | Instagram | TikTok | Facebook | Pinterest Join us in the Simple Farmhouse Life Facebook community!

Welcome back to the Main Thing Podcast! I'm your host, Skip Lineberg. Our special guest is a dear friend and a bold dream-chaser. Today, you will get a firsthand dose of courage, faith and humor from Steffanie Peterson.    A West Virginia native, Steffanie Peterson is a single mother, who took on the biggest challenge of her life, when she relocated her Broadway-dreaming daughter to the bright lights of New York City. By day, Steffanie manages a busy plastic surgery center in Manhattan on 5th Ave. By night, she manages the career of her daughter, the talented vocalist Hannah Jane. In her spare time, Steffanie focuses on her writing. This published author is currently working on her second book, titled “The Hot Mess Express: Flying Solo.”   Get ready! Over the next 9 minutes, you will discover why Steffanie Peterson is one of the wisest people I know.   Resources Steffanie's book “The Hot Mess Express - The Peterson Girls Adventures” Connect with Steffanie on LinkedIn   Stay Connected with Us Twitter @themainthingpod Instagram @themainthingpod Facebook - @TheMainThingPod LinkedIn - The MainThing Podcast   Credits Editor + Technical Advisor Bob Hotchkiss Brand + Strategy Advisor Andy Malinoski Public Relations + Partnerships Advisor Rachel Bell   Ready to Help Support the Growth of this Podcast? Become a subscriber. Share the podcast with one or two friends. Follow us on social media @TheMainThingPod Buy some Main Thing Merch from our Merchandise Store. Become a patron of the show and support us on Patreon with funding. Buy a book authored or recommended by our wise guests on BookShop.   Content You Will Enjoy in This Episode: [00:00:01] - Intro and welcome [00:01:10] - Brief bio for Steffanie Peterson [00:02:15] - Greetings and opening dialog [00:02:35] - Moving to New York City, how everyone's doing after 8 years [00:03:25] - Mustering up the courage to make such a bold move, timing [00:05:00] - Less about a grand master plan, more about God moving mountains [00:05:40] - Wisdom of listening to the small inner voice, trust your heart & soul [00:06:05] - Glimpse into her book “Hot Mess Express - the Peterson Girls Adventures” [00:07:05] - How Steffanie and Skip are connected [00:07:45] - A place for you to find books written by guests of this show [00:08:25] - Steffanie shares her Main Thing [00:09:10] - Wisdom requires time to crystallize and clarify [00:09:45] - Steffanie shares her rollercoaster ride, rejection rates, big-break news [00:10:30] - Symptoms of not knowing or practicing her wisdom: unsettled,  [00:11:30] - Resistance to making a major life change, the lies and excuses we hear [00:12:14] - God exceeded Steffanie's expectations when she trusted [00:13:00] - Thank you and good-bye [00:13:12] - Outro

The Case:  Cindy is experiencing hormone imbalances, fatigue and a low sex-drive She has consulted with a gynecologist but was dismissed and told it was common for her age She wasn't willing to accept that she just had to get used to having a low libido so she came to see me Investigation While it is true that hormonal shifts in peri-menopause and menopause can cause a decrease in a woman's sex drive, there is more to take into consideration. I knew that we had to look a few different avenues to get to the bottom of her health mystery, and find a solution that would reinvigorate her sex life. Shifting Views on Intimacy Susan Bratton is an intimacy expert and an advocate for shifting how we talk about and approach desire, intimacy and passion. She's a best-selling author and has published 34 books and programs on the subject. She advocates for better experiences not only for those like Cindy, who are experiencing low libido, but for all women.  She does this through her work teaching passionate lovemaking techniques, reframes what communication sounds like in the bedroom, and covers the physical limitations that a woman may be experiencing that can impact enjoyment or pleasure.  Getting the Root Cause of Intimacy Issues Susan says that couples seldom investigate what is causing issues in the bedroom as it relates to the three areas she focuses on (technique, communications, and physical pleasure). Most will find the root cause in our cultural depictions of intimacy derived from our patriarchal society.  When it comes to getting the root of issues with libido or physical arousal for women, it can have to do with the first two categories but sometimes, the issue stems from menopause or peri-menopause, an immune issue, or a hormone issue like hypothyroidism.  Many are unaware of the connection between hormone issues and low libido because they are less likely to list it as a symptom to their doctor. Even if they do, the doctor is unlikely to treat it as a concern.  Switching the Patriarchal Paradigm of Intimacy One of the issues Susan discusses at length in this episode is the challenge women face becoming aroused (and overcoming low libido) in the patriarchal paradigm of what intimacy looks like. She says that the patriarchy has created the male-focused approach to intimacy which centers around intercourse. And, she says, many women go along with it because it's all they know.  To reframe this paradigm, women need to think of their partner as someone who can help with the healing through the creation of a good relationship including making you feel vital again, focusing on your satisfaction, and connection through orgasm.  The Fatigue and Romance Conundrum When you are dealing with things like fatigue, insomnia, gut issues, or chronic pain - romance may be the last thing on your mind. Mustering up the energy for a kiss might seem like too much effort. However, Susan says orgasms can be very healing. They reboot your nervous system. They send out feel good neurotransmitters and hormones. They are a vascular event so they are like a little workout for your blood system. They improve sleep. And they create a deeper connection or bond with yourself and your partner. So, even if you don't feel like it, it might be good medicine. However, you may want to take it slow and be patient as you build up desire - especially if you are dealing with a physical issue (like hypothyroidism or hashimoto's) that has depleted desire or moved intimacy way down on the needs list. Solutions for Vaginal Dryness Vaginal dryness can be one of the reasons women avoid intimacy. This can be caused by a drop in estrogen (likely after the age of 50 because this is what happens during menopause). Or, it could be due to diet. Natural lubrication of the vaginal tissue is created through nitric oxide production. This is supported by a diet rich in leafy greens and vegetables - specifically celery, beets, dill, cabbage, arugula, and romaine. It can be impeded by the use of antibacterial mouthwash, acid blockers or proton pump inhibitors.  There are supplements to boost nitric oxide production but the most commonly recommended is L-Arginine.  Here are Susan's top tips for vaginal dryness: Diet rich in leafy greens and vegetables (which contain nitric oxide) Supplement nitric oxide production Stay well hydrated (drink water) Engage in foreplay to ensure there is enough time for proper arousal Use organic nut oils (refined organic avocado oil, sweet almond oil) Not engaging until you are ready Don't get discourage - you are not broken Beyond that, Susan also suggests supplements that might help you get in the mood. These include: Cacao (chocolate without the sugar) Maca  Tribulus Terrestris Tongkat Ali Fenugreek Conclusion In this episode, Susan really exposes that libido is something that needs to be addressed from all angles.  In Cindy's case, we started by doing a  DUTCH test and looking at her hormones. She was pretty low but wasn't interested in doing bio identical hormones yet. Instead, we supported her DHEA with DHEA drops. To bring her estrogen back into balance, we used Fem Guard by Designs for Health. Additionally, we also worked on blood flow with amino acids and supplements that help to naturally increase nitric oxide from the biochemical side. With her biochemistry supported, we also looked at what she could do to further support her libido. We talked about making sure she was moving her body regularly, doing breathwork and spending time on her own and with her partner.  I connected Cindy with a sex therapist who was able to guide her and her partner on the emotional part of their journey.  The biochemical support, a few shifts in her lifestyle, and the therapy all resulted in a significant increase in Cindy's sex drive after just 3 months. Needless to say, everyone was happy.  Eliminating Health Mysteries For Cindy we were able to find that missing piece of the puzzle and help her regain her healthy sex life. Could this be the missing clue for you or someone in your life?  Links: Resources mentioned Thanks to my guest Susan Bratton.  You can connect with her and check out all of her resources on her website: https://betterlover.com   Suggested Products DHEA drops Fem Guard  Amino Acid Synergy  Maca  L-Arginine Related Podcast Episodes: The Case of the Super Low Libido w/ Lauren Handel Zander 096 Demystifying Hormones for Perimenopause and Menopause Demystifying Hormones for Perimenopause and Menopause (Part 2) Thanks for Listening If you like what you heard, please rate and review this podcast. Every piece of feedback not only helps me create better shows, it helps more people find this important information. Never miss an episode -  Subscribe NOW to Health Mysteries Solved with host, Inna Topiler on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher or Google Podcasts and remember to rate and review the show! Find out more at http://healthmysteriessolved.com PLEASE NOTE All information, content, and material on this podcast is for informational purposes only and is not intended to serve as a substitute for the consultation, diagnosis, and/or medical treatment of a qualified physician or healthcare provider. Some of the links provided are affiliate links. This means we may make a very small amount of money should you choose to buy after clicking on them. This will in no way affect the price of the product but it helps us a tiny bit in covering our expenses.

Two-time Fred Astaire Award Nominee, Krystal Joy Brown made her acting debut in the national tour of the hit Broadway musical Rent. An embedded force in Broadway across 5 shows including currently as  Eliza in Hamilton. Mustering mid-song applause during her big number, “Burn” each night. Screen credits include Raising Kanan, Equalizer, She-Ra Princesses of Power and upcoming Hallmark film, Girlfriendship on October 1st.From stage to screen, Krystal Joy Brown evokes all dynamics of the human experience. This extends to her activism in all forms including Show Your Pride For Black Lives  and Ham4Progress. A multi hyphenate in every sense...KJB Wesbite: https://thekjb.com/KJB Insta: https://www.instagram.com/krystaljoybrownTasty links below...Site: https://fyrpodcast.comApple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/for-your-reference/id1453532214Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ForYourReferenceTwitter: https://twitter.com/ForYourRefPodInsta: https://www.instagram.com/foryourrefpodYouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC6oOmo_3tzdD0VtBzt2d0JA

Courage has many expressions, but rarely is the act of vulnerably sharing our story branded as one of them. For many men, our story is held tightly to our chest, guarded by outward acts of accomplishment and performance. The thought of exposing our truth is so terrifying that it's considered weak to do so. Mustering the courage to get honest is seemingly so impossible that we need to borrow courage from others in order to tell our tale. In this episode Justin is joined by his brother Jeremy, a cowboy and entrepreneur that came to the end of himself after years of addictions and destructive behavior. Jeremy shares about the blazing fire that has slowly kindled after finding healing from a lifestyle that nearly cost him his marriage and his life. Through his yes to being brave, the men around him have begun to face their greatest fears following his lead as he stopped running and started facing the monsters that had been chasing him for so long. He opens up about the power of sharing your story and how not trying fix men has been the solution to them finding their greatest breakthroughs. If you have value for men becoming their most authentic expression of who they were made to be, this episode is one you'll want to hear and pass along to every man you've ever met.

Welcome from Chad, Jon and Chris. Joined by Aaron and Nick Thank you  Raymond R, Mark A, Sebastian W, Morgan A Announcements and News  Con of the Rings 2022 Tickets on Sale now! conoftheringsmn.com Trivia Game of complete relevance Random Review Redo: The Heroes ALEP expansion Player Card review: Mustering of the Rohirrim AMA  Farwell!  

You've recognized that uncomfortable tug toward an idea. You've asked yourself the questions that lead out of the muck you found yourself in. Now comes possibly the hardest–but most important–part: stepping over the threshold and embarking on that adventure. Mustering the courage to walk out of our safe and comfy routine and into the unknown can be paralyzing! But today, I'm going to give you two reflecting questions for the times when you're looking out that doorway. These questions will help you to take the right action: Walk through the damn door.  We're going to help you build a risk tolerance in an unconventional way by letting your lizard brain go ham on the ways this could go wrong. And then we'll remember what a threshold symbolizes and why it's important, and we'll go through it anyway, using one, impactful follow-up question.    3 Key Takeaways First step over the threshold is the hardest to take, but each step gets easier.  Use the two questions provided in this episode to reflect and hold yourself accountable to the real reason you fear crossing the threshold.  How I rein in my lizard brain when experiencing anxiety over taking that first step.   Get the full show notes and more information here: https://storiedcoaching.com/crossing-the-threshold/