Podcasts about other'

Part 7. More Relationships: Chapter 14 - Chapter 16 A seven part series on the Letter to the Romans. Why would Paul write his longest letter to a church he had not founded or even visited?  This expositor believes the answer lies in its history, culminating in a major crisis which could have split the whole church into two denominations. Originally Jewish (Acts 2:10–11), it soon attracted Gentiles, who were left on their own when Claudius evicted all Jews (Acts 18:2).  In their absence a teaching emerged which we now know as ‘Replacement Theology', believing that God has rejected the Jews and turned instead to the Christian Church as his chosen people on earth, a view which, alas, is now widespread. Paul's carefully argued answer shows how much believing Jews and Gentiles have in common, both in sin and salvation, in flesh and Spirit. This approach treats ‘Chapters 9–11', (divisions never in his letter) as an integral part of his appeal, reaching its climax in a threefold challenge to the arrogance of the Gentile believers in Rome (11:18, 20, 25) in not warmly welcoming back into the fellowship the Jews who were allowed to return under Nero. This ‘key' unlocks the whole epistle, from the solemn warning that believers can lose their salvation (11:20–22) to the careful instruction on how to live with ‘disputable matters' such as diet and days (14:1 – 15:13); and ends with so many commands to greet each other with ‘a holy kiss' (16:16). However, as with most of Paul's practical counsel, all this is firmly rooted in sound ‘gospel' theology. Notes accompanying this series of talks on Romans can be downloaded from here. You will need to register, then look under the 'Other downloads' tab

The discourse presented during this session at Theology Beer Camp 2024 in Denver, Colorado, delves into the intricate relationship between video games and theological and ethical considerations. Central to the conversation is Ben Chicka's latest publication, "Playing as Others: Theological and Ethical Responsibility in Video Games," which posits that engaging with video games can facilitate profound reflections on identity and moral agency. The dialogue, led by Joshua Noel of Systematic Geekology and Taylor Thomas of Tillich Today, explores how players navigate their interactions within virtual realms, particularly when embodying characters that differ from their own lived experiences. Through the lens of philosophical theology, the speakers examine the ways in which video games serve as cultural artifacts that can affirm one's existence while simultaneously fostering empathy for others. This episode ultimately encourages listeners to recognize the potential of gaming as a medium for ethical engagement and personal growth, challenging the traditional boundaries of both theology and popular culture.Check out Ben Chicka's book, "Playing as Others: Theological and Ethical Responsibility in Video Games":https://www.amazon.com/Playing-Others-Theology-Ethical-Responsibility/dp/1481315463.Follow Taylor Thomas' podcast, "Tillich Today":https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/tillich-today/id1725855909In a thought-provoking recording from Theology Beer Camp 2024, Joshua Noel and Taylor Thomas engage Ben Chicka in a dialogue that traverses the intersection of gaming and theology, anchored by Chicka's recent publication, "Playing as Others: Theological and Ethical Responsibility in Video Games." The setting, a vibrant gathering of theological minds in Denver, provides a rich backdrop for exploring the implications of gaming on personal identity and ethical considerations. Chicka, a Senior Lecturer at Curry College, articulates how video games can transcend mere entertainment, serving instead as a conduit for theological reflection and ethical engagement.At the heart of the conversation lies the assertion that playing video games as diverse characters can foster a sense of empathy and understanding, facilitating a deeper connection to the experiences of others. Chicka draws upon the works of Paul Tillich to frame his arguments, suggesting that video games can create spaces for encountering the 'Other' and grappling with complex ethical dilemmas. Through examples from notable titles such as "Gone Home" and "Mass Effect," he elucidates how these narratives challenge players' assumptions and promote a more inclusive worldview. The episode further explores the cultural significance of gaming communities, positing that they can embody modern theological spaces that encourage acceptance and pluralism. Chicka's insights invite listeners to reconsider their relationship with video games, framing them as potent tools for personal and communal transformation. By the conclusion of the discussion, the audience is left with a renewed appreciation for the theological dimensions of gaming, encouraging a conscientious approach to engaging with digital narratives.Takeaways: The theological and ethical implications of video games extend beyond mere entertainment, inviting deeper reflection on identity and existence. Ben Chicka's work emphasizes the role of video games in shaping cultural narratives and understanding the 'other' in a theological context. The discussion highlights how video games can create spaces for marginalized voices, fostering acceptance and...

“The amount of guilt and the sense of alienation that people feel when they fall in love with someone who is ‘outside', and the struggle that they have to undergo to explain that choice which they fully don't understand themselves, is a very deep conflict that my work tries to capture. The title of my book is ‘Intimacy in Alienation', and alienation is something that is really very pregnant in the identities of these individuals who feel like aliens to their own community because their community cannot imagine why are they seeing the other as something positive but not as how the community wants them to see. So there's a big gap that often gets deeper and it widens and it really forecloses any conversation and imagination.” Episode Description: We begin with considering the nature of 'malignant othering' that Ashis describes in parts of the Hindu-Muslim interface in India. His thesis is that transcending the binary into a 'third' is essential in the "quest for newer foundations defining Hindu and Muslim identities that are freed from historically entrenched definitions." He describes the challenges faced by each community that lacks the imagination of what is positive in the other. We discuss the importance of family support for interfaith couples and how often that is lacking. He describes 'love-jihad' where the autonomous agency of the partners is, through the eyes of fundamentalism, reduced to stereotypes of oppressor-oppressed. Ashis describes his research methodology which borrows from the psychoanalytic method in its recognition of transference and repetition. He closes by sharing with us the impact on him of the riots of 2002 and behind that the latent presence of the atrocities of the 1947 Partition. He bemoans "the erosion of the narratives of harmony" and sees his work as his effort at healing.   Our Guest: Ashis Roy (PhD) is a Psychoanalyst at the Delhi Chapter of the Indian Psychoanalytic  Society ( IPA London). He works with adults and couples. For more than a decade he was on the Faculty at the Centre of Psychotherapy and Clinical Research, Ambedkar University, where he participated in institution building, taught psychoanalysis, and trained students to become Psychoanalytic Psychotherapists.  He is a faculty at CAPA (China-American Psychoanalytic Alliance) and is interested in exploring Asian and South Asian cultures using psychoanalysis. He hosts podcasts on the New Books Network and works with psychoanalysts across the globe. His book, Intimate Hindu-Muslim Relationships: A Psychoanalytic Exploration of the Self and the Other (2024) has been published by Yoda Press.   Recommended Readings: Erikson, E. H. (1968). Identity, youth, and crisis. New York: W.W. Norton.   Kakar, S. (1996). The colors of violence: Cultural identities, religion, and conflict. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.   Wahab. G (2021) Born a Muslim: Some truths about Islam in India.  Aleph Book Company.   Altman, N. (2005). The Analyst in the Inner City. Relational Perspective Book Series    Davids, M. F. (2009) The Impact of Islamophobia. Psychoanalysis and History 11:175-191   Green, A., & Kohon, G. (2005). Love and its vicissitudes. London: Routledge.

Part 6. Relationships: Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 A seven part series on the Letter to the Romans. Why would Paul write his longest letter to a church he had not founded or even visited?  This expositor believes the answer lies in its history, culminating in a major crisis which could have split the whole church into two denominations. Originally Jewish (Acts 2:10–11), it soon attracted Gentiles, who were left on their own when Claudius evicted all Jews (Acts 18:2).  In their absence a teaching emerged which we now know as ‘Replacement Theology', believing that God has rejected the Jews and turned instead to the Christian Church as his chosen people on earth, a view which, alas, is now widespread. Paul's carefully argued answer shows how much believing Jews and Gentiles have in common, both in sin and salvation, in flesh and Spirit. This approach treats ‘Chapters 9–11', (divisions never in his letter) as an integral part of his appeal, reaching its climax in a threefold challenge to the arrogance of the Gentile believers in Rome (11:18, 20, 25) in not warmly welcoming back into the fellowship the Jews who were allowed to return under Nero. This ‘key' unlocks the whole epistle, from the solemn warning that believers can lose their salvation (11:20–22) to the careful instruction on how to live with ‘disputable matters' such as diet and days (14:1 – 15:13); and ends with so many commands to greet each other with ‘a holy kiss' (16:16). However, as with most of Paul's practical counsel, all this is firmly rooted in sound ‘gospel' theology. Notes accompanying this series of talks on Romans can be downloaded from here. You will need to register, then look under the 'Other downloads' tab

On this week's MyAgLife in Fertilization episode, CCA/Soil Specialist Rich Kreps discusses the importance of addressing sulfur, calcium and magnesium for optimal tree nut yields this year.   Supporting the People who Support Agriculture Thank you to this month's sponsors who makes it possible to get you your daily news. Please feel free to visit their website. Dormex (Alzchem Group) - https://www.alzchem.com/en/brands/dormex/ Deerpoint Group, Inc. - https://deerpointgroup.com/dpg-potassium-plus/ KIM-1C, LLC - https://www.linkedin.com/company/kim-c1-llc/

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Part 5. Israel: Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 A seven part series on the Letter to the Romans. Why would Paul write his longest letter to a church he had not founded or even visited?  This expositor believes the answer lies in its history, culminating in a major crisis which could have split the whole church into two denominations. Originally Jewish (Acts 2:10–11), it soon attracted Gentiles, who were left on their own when Claudius evicted all Jews (Acts 18:2).  In their absence a teaching emerged which we now know as ‘Replacement Theology', believing that God has rejected the Jews and turned instead to the Christian Church as his chosen people on earth, a view which, alas, is now widespread. Paul's carefully argued answer shows how much believing Jews and Gentiles have in common, both in sin and salvation, in flesh and Spirit. This approach treats ‘Chapters 9–11', (divisions never in his letter) as an integral part of his appeal, reaching its climax in a threefold challenge to the arrogance of the Gentile believers in Rome (11:18, 20, 25) in not warmly welcoming back into the fellowship the Jews who were allowed to return under Nero. This ‘key' unlocks the whole epistle, from the solemn warning that believers can lose their salvation (11:20–22) to the careful instruction on how to live with ‘disputable matters' such as diet and days (14:1 – 15:13); and ends with so many commands to greet each other with ‘a holy kiss' (16:16). However, as with most of Paul's practical counsel, all this is firmly rooted in sound ‘gospel' theology. Notes accompanying this series of talks on Romans can be downloaded from here. You will need to register, then look under the 'Other downloads' tab

Part 4. Sanctification: Chapter 6 - Chapter 8 A seven part series on the Letter to the Romans. Why would Paul write his longest letter to a church he had not founded or even visited?  This expositor believes the answer lies in its history, culminating in a major crisis which could have split the whole church into two denominations. Originally Jewish (Acts 2:10–11), it soon attracted Gentiles, who were left on their own when Claudius evicted all Jews (Acts 18:2).  In their absence a teaching emerged which we now know as ‘Replacement Theology', believing that God has rejected the Jews and turned instead to the Christian Church as his chosen people on earth, a view which, alas, is now widespread. Paul's carefully argued answer shows how much believing Jews and Gentiles have in common, both in sin and salvation, in flesh and Spirit. This approach treats ‘Chapters 9–11', (divisions never in his letter) as an integral part of his appeal, reaching its climax in a threefold challenge to the arrogance of the Gentile believers in Rome (11:18, 20, 25) in not warmly welcoming back into the fellowship the Jews who were allowed to return under Nero. This ‘key' unlocks the whole epistle, from the solemn warning that believers can lose their salvation (11:20–22) to the careful instruction on how to live with ‘disputable matters' such as diet and days (14:1 – 15:13); and ends with so many commands to greet each other with ‘a holy kiss' (16:16). However, as with most of Paul's practical counsel, all this is firmly rooted in sound ‘gospel' theology. Notes accompanying this series of talks on Romans can be downloaded from here. You will need to register, then look under the 'Other downloads' tab

We finally made it to the big five-oh! If you don't count the Spooktaculars....or the Patreon episodes....Whatever, we made it regardless! We also managed to survive 2024, although 2025 is shaping up to be a rough one. Hopefully we'll have plenty of good models and good games to help us through it all. As always, we cover our recent games played and hobby progress, as well as recent WarCom articles. We're also covering the models of the year from GW, as voted on by you (be ashamed of yourselves for the 'Other' category). And we wrap up 2024 with a review of last years resolutions, as well as making some fresh ones for 2025. Thanks for sticking with us, and we hope you hang around for another year of nerdy hobby nonsense.

Did You Befriend the 'Other Woman' or 'Other Man' After Cheating by Maine's Coast 93.1

Did You Befriend The 'Other Woman' Or 'Other Man' After Cheating by Maine's Coast 93.1

Did You Befriend The 'Other Woman' Or 'Other Man' After Cheating by Maine's Coast 93.1

Did You Befriend The 'Other Woman' Or 'Other Man' After Cheating by Maine's Coast 93.1

Did You Befriend The 'Other Woman' Or 'Other Man' After Cheating by Maine's Coast 93.1

With all the fighting  and  sex, my work reviews should suck. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..  “Saving a life isn't about worthiness. It is about instinct and guts.” (Friday) Since I liked to think that life encouraging me with bruises, punctures, cuts and concussions made me smarter, I had scheduled some eleven o'clock gym time most of the week so to avoid the whole lunch and after-work crowds. Aya and I went to the 'Others' gym, which was nice, but wasn't as complete as the Full/Pure-blood one. Most notable was the lack of weapons. Aya's and my trip to the 'Other' gym on Friday hit a snag. Aya clued in on the fact that I was avoiding the Pure-blood facility. We talked about it. I explained I wasn't a Pure-blood. Her counter-argument was she was and I should confront my fears. Yes, I lost an argument with a nine year old. I have talked a nineteen year old, promise-ring virgin into nameless sex in an airport stall. Aya was an unassailable wall of resolve that dashed all of my ploys into so many useless words. I found myself entering the real 'No Man's Land' twice in less than a week. Not only was I hard-headed, I was also obviously soft-hearted. At the last moment, I imagined I had a reprieve. I didn't have to tell Aya how I got in the first time; grabbing an open door. I could swipe my card, have it rejected and move on to safer pursuits. Sure enough, my card failed. Aya's didn't; mother-puss-bucket! Upon entering, the twenty, or so women in the place looked at me; and Aya. I recognized somebody. It was Constanza, Elsa's chief evil henchwoman. Our eyes met. She smiled in a way that assured me she vividly recalled our last encounter. It should be of no surprise that I insulted her somewhere in the process. It's how I roll. I smiled back at Constanza and gave her a nod before setting up Aya and me for our workout routine. Constanza was not mollified in the slightest. She was patiently waiting; for something. I decided that Aya would be my sole focus and banished the other women from my mind. The munchkin could tell the difference and relayed that to me with her happiness. After twenty minutes, she decided her time with the machines was done and her minutes were better spent resting against, or sitting on, me. My cock was reminding me that it was approaching 36 torturous hours without sex. It was also pointing out that there were thirty available, sexually inquisitive women achingly close. I reminded my penis that being relocated was probably as fun-less as it sounded. That bought me some time. We finished up our sojourn by walking the wall, going over the weapon racks. Mainly we went over the ones various members of her family were proficient with. Aya still had problems with even the most basic ones. The words 'let me help you' spilled out of my mouth. There were two problems; Aya's tiny size and the fact that all the weapons were very dangerous. Even the leaf-shaped short blade was too heavy for her so we ended up screwing around instead. I picked up two Iron Age style axes. The blades were more of a thick wedge than the broad axe heads of medieval fame. They were less effective in delivering damage, compensating somewhat in their reduced weight. I've convinced a Jewish girl to have sex in a synagogue despite me not being Jewish yet this child was twirling me around her pinkie finger. I was entertaining her with some exotic, flamboyant moves wielding two axes while Aya clapped her hands and giggled when I felt a stranger approach me on the sparring mat. I had been hopping around keeping all my weight on my right leg until that moment. I turned to face the woman, putting my left behind me yet while keeping it firmly on the ground. I also drew my axes up, crossing them over my chest, blades pointing past my shoulders. "I have never seen that technique before," she addressed me. That and what followed was all in the Amazon tongue. "It is more of a fantasy creation. I had a love affair with pseudo-archaic movies that always do the crazy, two-weapon stuff so my mentor helped me create this method," I explained. "Has it ever been tested?" she continued. "I am Cáel Nyilas," I answered, "and yes, my mentor preferred using a poleaxe, or a mace/shield combo against me." "Oneida," she seemed amused. "We will see how well you have been tested." "May I request a favor?" I tried to keep my cool. She pulled out one of those damn spears. "Yes," she seemed intrigued. "Can you call someone over to sit with Aya? I don't want her to accidently set foot on the mat," I beseeched. "Drusilla, please aid me," Oneida summoned an observer. The woman had heard my appeal and settled beside the nervous, kneeling Aya. "Cáel, please be careful," Aya pleaded. "Who me?" I chuckled. "I'm impervious to all man-made contrivances." "Every weapon in this room was crafted by women," Oneida snorted. "That would certainly explain my full-body bruising and the hole in my leg," I grinned back. I caught Oneida trying to sneak closer to me. My axes came to a ready position and I charged. I was sure some sort of medic would punish me for this later. She got off two jabs then I was all over her. I knew how to fight a two and a half meter spear. She had no clue how to plot out two incoming weapons with an extra meter of reach. The first time I drove her off the mat. The second time, I got inside her guard and clocked her in the temple with the back end of an axe head. I quickly hopped back three paces, knelt and put my axes on the mat. The rush to get me was stillborn. A few did come to stand over me while two others checked on Oneida who quickly came around. "What happened?" were Oneida's first, shaky words. "He hit you," one of her companions answered. "With what; the Moon?" Oneida mumbled as they helped her up. "My ears are still ringing." "My turn," Constanza announced. She went for a spear, blade, and round leather-covered, wicker shield. "Give Cáel a moment to rest," Aya appealed. "He has been fighting longer." No such luck. I was halfway to exhausted as well. Fighting with two weapons pretty much means just that; twice the fight. Kinetically speaking, I was burning around 80% more calories than my one weapon opponents. I was wielding axes, not fighting sticks after all. In my favor was a deep wellspring of stamina and my Will reinforced by my desire to not upset Aya. What little time I was given wasn't out of charity. A second Amazon was joining the struggle. I could back off, but I felt Constanza would enforce an intense level of groveling solely to grind up Aya emotionally. She didn't hate Aya. Aya was an avenue to really hurt me and we both knew it. For a second, when I hobbled off the mat, there were chuckles. I had fled. That ended as I began retrieving some select weapons from the wall racks. Sword harnesses came in two varieties; belted and shoulder slings. I took two shoulder slings and two more axes. I affixed my two 'spare' axes with leather straps. As I turned to the mat, Constanza had decided to be clever. She and her buddy had closed to within three meters of the edge. They would box me in as soon as my second foot touched down on the mat. "Please back up," I requested. Constanza smiled with supreme confidence. I smiled back. This was going to be dangerous, agonizing and unorthodox; totally me. I began backing up. "Cáel," Aya murmured. "Don't let them hurt you." "Running away?" Constanza sneered. "Aya, wickedness is the expedience of the weak," I nodded her way. "Do you think I can win?" "Of course," Aya sighed happily. "I am by your side." I laughed. I charged. The Amazons did the precisely wrong thing; the stepped up to meet me. You keep thrusting weapons, like spears, aimed at the central part of the body. This allows you to deviate your projection anywhere from the thighs to the face. This does imply you know where the central part of the enemy will be. This was not playschool. Real weapons; real damage; real death. They didn't have to kill me. It didn't mean they wouldn't. I leapt. I didn't leap at them, I leapt over them. Let's not forget I'm pretty freaking strong. My left leg shot-gunned pain straight to the brain but held it together. I sailed over their thrusting spear points, flipped my axes down so that they would impact the mats first. The flat tops of the axe heads impacted the mat and my body rose up and then flipped over them. This gave me an extra meter and a half on my back flip. I turned that maneuver into summersault, giving three more meters of space. I rolled over to my side and rode the momentum to my feet, facing my adversaries. Now they were the ones in the corner of the mat with their enemy pinning them in and I wasn't done yet. With all my might, I hurled my right-handed axe at Constanza's companion. She did exactly what I thought she'd do. She saw the throw halfway in motion and raised her shield up; right where I wanted it. Amazon shields aren't what most people think shields are today. They think medieval knights, or more appropriately, the shields of the Greek hoplites. The Amazons date back 700 years before those Greeks and they weren't heavy infantry anyway. Amazons moved light and fast. Consequently, their shields were light; wicker constructs with layers of leather stretched over the frame. Great for deflecting light weapons; not so great for what I was about to do. The steel axe head shattered the top half of the wicker frame. It saved her life, but now she had this useless object strapped to her arm. It also had the added bonus of knocking her back while Constanza engaged me alone. Her first jab forced me to jump back, but I still was able to draw my first spare axe. My luck with women held up a little longer. The other Amazon hesitated just long enough to remove her shattered shield. Alone with Constanza, I attacked. She thrust, I captured her spear head between my axe handles and yanked her forward. We kicked out simultaneously. Her off-balanced strike brushed past my abused left leg. My right kick hit her shield and knocked her down. Her grip on the spear slipped and I propelled it somewhere behind me. Constanza pulled off a reverse summersaulted while drawing her short blade. A really nice move. Unfortunately, it moved her away from the chick with the spear, who hesitated again. This time she took the thrown axe straight to the head; back end impacting. I didn't want to kill her. Constanza anticipated my next action. It came down to position, distance, and stride length and they all favored me. We raced to the downed companion. My left-handed axes flat side slammed into her forehead, rendering her unconscious, and I kicked her spear off the mat; out of bounds. I slowly backed away from Constanza and readied my second spare axe. "Retire from the field," I panted. I was physically failing fast. "Why should I?" Constanza glared. "You are about to fall over." "Aya won't let me fall," I stared her down. "You couldn't beat me with a companion and a spear, Constanza. Do you really think a shield and sword will work any better." "Let's find out," she charged. I really needed the short breather to recover somewhat. The short Amazon blade was an excellent close-in weapon. I never let her get close enough to use it. Tandem axes allowed me to shred her shield while keeping her at arm's length. My axe bit into her upper left arm right above the elbow. Constanza hissed instead of screaming. She did stagger back. I hopped back three steps, knelt and placed my axes on the mat at my side. "No!" Constanza howled. She came at me while I remained still. Her hand drew back for a killing thrust. I waited. Sparing my life didn't stop her. The looks of her fellow Amazons held back her wrath. They wouldn't stop her from slaughtering me, but that was exactly what it was; a butchery. Two things occurred to me: Aya was showing remarkably better control today than on Saturday, and I figured out a way to sleep with Buffy tonight. Being killed? Nah, worry about the things you have control over. "Constanza, he was instructing me," Oneida stood up. She took up Constanza's discarded spear and stepped toward us. What disturbed the gathering was how Oneida held it; sidewise, not ready for combat. "You do not intimidate me, Oneida," Constanza growled. "You misunderstand," Oneida intoned. "I would do this out of shame and despair." "I will shear my hair, burn it and take myself to the cliffs to die childless," she continued. "I leave whatever contempt you might possess for me to be conveyed to my House when they learn your actions have killed one of their last breeding females. The death of some male will not concern them. My death will. The shame I bear for killing a teacher will certainly interest many of our people." "You wouldn't dare," Constanza scoffed. The spear dropped. Fuck that noise. I snatched the last quarter of the shaft before it hit the ground. No one seemed to understand what to do about that. Apparently my reaction was unique. "Yay!" Aya cheered. "He's the best Daddy ever," she loudly announced to the crowd. "Oneida, my apology, but Katrina has put her faith in me and the New Directive," I adlibbed. "I am here to aid the recovery of your people, not diminish them. For the sake of Katrina's honor, please reconsider." "Cáel Nyilas," Oneida smiled sadly, "this is not a pledge that can be retracted." "Ah; doesn't it only take effect when the weapon hits the ground?" I struggled. "I mean, otherwise dropping the weapon would be pointless; right?" I repeat, apparently this had never come up before. "This is kind of awkward. Can someone take this?" I meant the spear. I was worn to the bone and holding a long spear from one end, with one hand. Quickly calls went out to Hayden as well as a few department heads. "Constanza," one of the Amazons spoke up, "if you attack the male, you will be actively sealing Oneida's Death Pledge. Far fewer of us will understand that." "How is it that you are so damn lucky?" Constanza growled at me. "You are asking this of a man, on his knees before you with your sword at his throat?" I countered. "Lucky isn't you sparing my life. Lucky is me never having heard of this place; Except for Aya. She makes the rest of this hellish experience worthwhile." "Best Daddy ever," Aya chirped. "Hayden is on her way," a different Amazon called out. Already a passel of newcomers were swarming the scene. Truly curious was the group looking mournfully at Oneida. One stepped forward. "Male, do you need something? Water?" she asked. I gave it some thought. "Could you sing?" I requested. "A nice soothing song of hope would be nice." Blink. Like all panicked moments, nothing came to mind for several seconds. Oneida's people rapidly bantered about some names then the questioner began singing. By the third song I was crying and shaking like a leaf. Constanza had fallen back enough to get her arm tended to. Twice Aya had tried to get me, lending me the tiniest bit more strength. Wisely, her minder kept her away from the possible conflict. There was a whole different level of commotion when Hayden arrived this time. "To bear a weapon in my presence is Death, Cáel," Hayden stated. "I apologize for being a disappointing Male," I grunted. "Pass on my regrets to Katrina." "Drop the weapon and you will be spared. You will only be beaten," Hayden gave a hint of a smile. "If I drop it, she dies," I hissed. The ache in my right arm was exceeding that in my left leg. "I'm afraid I will have to decline," I concluded. "If I kill you, the spear will drop and she'll die anyway," Hayden pointed out. "Sucks to be both of us, I guess," I gasped. "Oneida, step on the spear. Push it down," Hayden ordered. Hush. Oneida raised her foot. "You are stepping in the wrong place," I huffed. She looked at me. My eyes flashed to the short side between my grip and my side. "Do you really think you can hold it up?" she questioned. "I know I'll fail if you step anywhere else," I tried to grin. "No matter what happens, you will die," she murmured. "Not my chief concern right now," I grunted. "Hurry." Oneida put her foot on the short end. "It will help your balance if you place a hand on his shoulder," Hayden noted. We both flashed Hayden a shocked look. Oneida stepped on the spear. It trembled and sunk down, barely millimeters off the mat. Her hand came to rest on the crux of my neck and shoulder. I felt my body about to tip over. I was at my limit. I almost missed the gasps whispering around the assembly. Oneida had her body off the ground. Hayden lowered herself so that she could witness there was a distance between the spear and the earth. "The spirits have not heard your pledge, Oneida," Hayden declared as she regained her regal posture. "I suggest you weigh your words with greater care in the future. Retrieve your spear." She turned and started to leave the gym. Oneida dismounted and snatched up her spear. "What of the male?" one of the spectators inquired. I didn't care. I had fallen on my back. "At a moment of such great spiritual significance; the ancestral rejection of a Death Pledge, the action of any one male does not concern me," Hayden remarked coldly. It wasn't praise. It was a 'don't fuck with him'. Around me a cultural conundrum was taking place. Not only could Oneida's house not thank me because I was a male, they couldn't thank me because, by Hayden's decree, there was no life to be saved. Oneida bent over me on one knee. "You really shouldn't be so eager to toss your life away, Cáel," she smiled warmly. I was essentially immobile. "You have the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes," I moaned. "You are thinking about that at a time like this?" she snorted. Her relatives were shockingly amused as well. "No time like the present. Besides, in 75 days you can all go out to some nature preserve and hunt me down with non-lethal weapons. Great way to spend a weekend." I heard an authoritative cough. I looked up from my still prone position to see Katrina. "Cancel that Oneida. I'm about to get relocated to Antarctica where I'll be tasked with teaching penguins how to arm wrestle," I sighed. "Cáel, why do you think I'd be so nice to you after all the hell you cause me on a daily basis?" Katrina looked all menacing. "You recall how much I like winter sports?" I pleaded. "Hey; wait. I was good on Friday. Wasn't I good on Friday?" "I don't recall you having a good day yet, but I may double check. Can you stand?" Katrina asked. "Is that a question, or veiled order?" I muttered. "If the former; no. If that latter, I'll die trying." Using a combination of my right leg and left arm, I managed to struggle my way upright. By that time, Aya had circled the practice mat and was at Katrina's side. "He was very brave," Aya insisted. One of Oneida's senior women coughed. "Nothing happened so nothing has changed," Katrina stated. It was a lie and both sides knew it. It was the whole loyalty/martial valor thing. Inside their closed little minds a balancing act had taken place; my worthlessness as a male against Oneida's value to her people. Aya was easy to discount as she was of Katrina's house. I had no clue who Oneida was yet still rallied to her when she desperately needed help; Hayden's obfuscation be damned. Yeah, Oneida had been young and foolish. Her challenge had been given to make Constanza back off. When Constanza called her bluff, pride took over. Oneida had been foolhardy and overly status conscious. Constanza had played Russian roulette with their House's future and almost 'won'. She'd be wise to avoid darkened corridors for the next few weeks too. There was not only Oneida's house but the houses allied to it to worry about despite Hayden's expunging of the official record. For me, it was time to be dragged over to my cute doctor friend. I had been slashed twice by the spears during my jump and not noticed it; adrenaline no doubt. "Congratulations, you and Aya are forbidden to work. I thought keeping you in the building would be safer. I'm mature enough to admit I was wrong," Katrina conceded. "No place is safe for you, or from you. I'm sending you home, under guard." "Can I choose Buffy?" I perked up. Katrina arched an eyebrow. "I also need something," I kept slaloming down toward Hell. "I need a six hour dispensation from you on the whole sex thing with employees." "Oh Goddess," Katrina laughed. "What part of me wanting you to stay alive have you missed?" "Are you going to sleep with my Mommy now?" Aya grinned. "No," Katrina answered for me, "he's going to play with Buffy." Right on the money. One scary-smart woman without a doubt. "Best of all, I'll let you assign Buffy to be your security for the night and you can tell her the good news when you get home. Aya, that means Cáel does, not you." "Yes Aunt Katrina," Aya moaped. She wanted me to be banging Caitlyn; her Momma. We would make love, Caitlyn would take me as her mate and I'd be Aya's Daddy for real. She'd kill me a month later for my twelfth indiscretion. I'm not a fortuneteller. I'm a bookie and I knew the odds of me staying faithful were a sucker's bet. The only questions were how many and with which one Caitlyn would kill me with. I wasn't sure how to break that reality to Aya. After getting bandaged/tortured my doctor, cleaned up and redressed, I managed to survive the rest of the day without catastrophe. (Later) "Cáel, do you realize that you've been wounded more than most Security Detail recruits do during their basic training?" Violet teased me. Buffy was too furious for coherent speech. "It isn't his fault, Buffy," Aya pleaded. "He wasn't seducing a woman, or anything like that. Oneida tried to sex him up all on her own." Huh? "Constanza's nipples were very aroused and we all know what she wanted." I really was worrying about the twisted sexual education Aya was getting. She knew the terms, but was missing out on the complete meaning of what she was saying. "Oneida? Who the hell is Oneida?" Buffy growled. "She's one of the new hires with Acquisitions," Violet answered. Brian Fung's group. "What were you making eyes at her for?" Buffy snarled possessively. "He didn't," Katrina swept into the office. "She made a Death Pledge and Cáel, acting as a vessel for our Ancestors, refused it; so the youngest breeding female in House Arinniti gets to keep living." I grunted because I knew who Arinniti was, or had been. "Vessels for the Ancestors?" Violet gasped. "Arinniti; that name rings a bell," Buffy mumbled. "She's one of the twenty founding bloodlines," Aya gladly provided. Katrina took her seat behind her desk and regarded me with something between amusement, annoyance, and pride. Oh, and sex. "Violet, Cáel held a weapon in the presence of Hayden; the spear that Oneida had dropped to seal her pledge. If he was a male acting alone, he would have to be killed. Is that the course of action you wish to recommend to the High Priestess?" Katrina suggested. "Ancestors work for me," Violet gulped. "You can't take back a Death Pledge," Buffy turned to Katrina. "It is a Death Pledge." "It appears you can if Cáel is in the room," Katrina smirked. "Best Daddy ever!" Aya yipped. "He caught the spear before it hit the ground and held it until Hayden came by and read the signs from the Ancestors that Cáel was supposed to retract Oneida's words. Hayden even had Oneida stand on the spear, but Da; Cáel didn't let it fall." "Maybe the Ancestors think Cáel is sexy too," Aya added. Groan. "They had better not," Buffy spun back to me threateningly. Fine, if some undead man-haters thought I was hot; sigh; that might entail there would be no rest for me even in the afterlife. "Buffy, do you have plans for this weekend?" I glared. "Why?" she snapped. "Great. Katrina, I want Buffy to be my bodyguard for this weekend," I looked to my boss. Aya almost slipped up, but bit her lip to hold herself back. "Fine," Katrina grumbled. "I promised you that you could choose your guardian. I was truly hoping you would pick among the candidates from SD I suggested, but so be it." "I have to be around him all weekend?" Buffy howled. "Yeah," I exhaled happily, "and I plan to have sex all weekend long." From the look on Buffy's face, she knew she was going to die. She was going to see me having sex with someone else, snap, kill me then kill herself out of shame and grief. Yep, she was going to die. It turned out Aya was off to Amazon Summer Camp for Squirts. We quickly arranged a series of smoke signals she could use to send for me if she was in danger. Desiree rolled her eyes, hefted Aya's luggage and left with my tiny boon companion. I sobbed. "Katrina, can I go see her when she's at camp?" I turned to my boss. "Cáel Nyilas, this is a place where we send our greatest treasure; our children," Katrina smirked. "We will not discuss the abuse of power it would be for me to reveal the location to you." "Cool; Daphne, where is it?" I turned to my closest female new hire. "I won't tell you and it changes every year," Daphne smiled. "But you know where it is this year," I persisted. "I didn't say I didn't," Daphne beamed. "Fine. Come home with me. While my ogress henchwoman holds you down, I'll tickle the truth out of you," I menaced. "Buffy don't!" Tigger shouted. Buffy was about to brain me with my reading lamp. I was fearless. "Okay, Bubbles," I beamed vindictively. "Go get us a car and make it snappy." There was a hush. "What? Did I use any words that were too big for you to understand?" Buffy's screamed caused people to reach for their sidearm three floors away. She stormed out, thankfully not running over anyone. "Do you want to die?" Violet tugged my sleeve. "Let the 'Lost Blood' (Old Kingdom Hittite) deal with him," Fabiola sneered. "They are both annoyances." I took a deep breath. "Fabiola, your laws regulate what I can and can't say to you," I stared at her. "Instead, I beseech you to never insult a 'Runner' (Old Kingdom Hittite) in my presence again." "Buffy is a 'Lost Blood' (Old Kingdom Hittite)," Fabiola defied me. I took another deep breath then hobbled over to Katrina's desk, retrieved a pen, piece of paper and a nice, soapstone-encased lighter. By the time I got back to my desk, I certainly had the new hires' attention. Since Fabiola was a Latin name, I had to guess at what it would look like in the Amazon alphabet. "Daphne, is this right?" I asked. She shook her head. She wouldn't give me the answer. I got it on the third try. I showed Fabiola her name on the paper then burned it. I rubbed the ashes between my palms then showed Fabiola my blackened palms. "What does that mean?" Paula inquired. She was worried. I was both flamboyant and hardcore at the same time. "Who cares?" Fabiola mocked me. "'Ghost'" I said in Old Kingdom Hittite. It took them a few seconds to realize it had a second definition; invisible. I had no doubt Katrina fully understood the implications of my actions. "Cáel, I will have to consult with Hayden over this," Katrina mused. I gave a nod, collected my stuff and headed for the elevator. "Katrina, what did he do?" Dora chimed in. "He murdered Fabiola," Katrina enlightened them. "In his mind, she no longer exists." "Can he do that?" Violet wondered. Fabiola took after me. "Cáel," she called out. I ignored her. She caught up. "Cáel." Ignored. Then she shoved me from behind in the shoulder. I kept walking. "Don't you ignore me!" she seethed. Daphne was coming up fast. "Leave him alone," Daphne insisted. Fabiola shoved me again. I was almost at the elevator. "Don't," Helena came up. She was aiming for Daphne because Daphne was about to kick Fabiola. "She's insulting you!" Daphne reacted to Helena while pointing at Fabiola. "He is a man," Helena explained. "We don't fight over men." Meaning that couldn't be the primary excuse, not that it never happened. "Katrina, make me Cáel's boss," Fabiola shouted. Well, I would never dare shout at Katrina unless her life was on the line. Also, technically Fabiola couldn't be my boss, being a 'new hire' and all. "Cáel Nyilas, Fabiola is your boss for the next five minutes," Katrina intoned. Oh fuck. "Cáel, to my side," Fabiola gloated. I looked past her to Katrina, sighed and punched the elevator button. "Don't turn your back on me," Fabiola snarled. A tug of war developed. She kept trying to turn me away from the elevator doors and I refused to be budged. Fabiola drew her blade. Shit. "You cannot run far enough away that I will let you get away with that," Daphne seethed in Old Kingdom Hittite. Fabiola was about to meet that challenge. "What are you doing?" Katrina had been coming out of her office when she caught the exchange. "I;” Daphne stammered. She'd screwed up. "Apologize," Katrina commanded. Daphne apologized grudgingly. The doors opened. "Cáel, hold the door." I did. "Cáel, to my side," Fabiola repeated. She thought she was about to win. I stayed where I was. "Fabiola, he can't hear you," Katrina pointed out. "Of course he can hear me," Fabiola rebutted. "No; no he can't," Katrina remained calm. "You have rendered yourself dead to him. Since he is not a priestess, or augur, he cannot hear the voices of the dead." "He cannot willfully decide he can't hear me," Fabiola demanded. "Oh, I agree. That would be wrong for him to willfully ignore any Havenstone female. Conversely, he can't allow any of our women to be harmed either," Katrina explained patiently. "So, when he witnessed an assault on the spirit of our women, he attempted to address it." "He approached the perpetrator and politely asked them to refrain from that activity. He was rebuffed. It wasn't like he could physically resolve the issue. To resolve that internal conflict; to defend his sisters but not attack a sister, he symbolically killed the problem. This allowed him to constantly and continuously forget the cause of this disruption." "He can't do that," Fabiola persisted. "Actually, it is pure Cáel," Katrina smirked. "I personally unaware of any scripture, bylaw, or statute that forbids him from doing this. I have given you a reasonable argument that explains his actions. He is essentially working through two conflicting orders." "Now Fabiola, as a perspective leader, what do you suggest he do? Let you force him to be relocated when he breaks your jaw? Let you insult half of Havenstone's staff until one day, one of them snaps and you end up in a Newark landfill? That would be wrong of him to do as he is supposed to lay his life down for us," Katrina kept at it. "What do you suggest?" "How do you resolve the crisis? Before you answer that, consider the fate of Leona," Katrina gave a predatory twist of the lips that would make a Momma T-Rex proud. "This male is making us fight amongst ourselves," Fabiola complained. "I'm not fighting just for the male," Daphne growled. "I'm fighting to have offspring that are strong in both body and mind." "Hey," Helena snorted, "can you imagine how much tougher the women in Acquisitions and Business Management have it? We get to talk about the New Directive without fear of weirding Cáel out." "Please believe me," I chuckled. "I'm still weirded out. There is simply nothing I can do about it so I get on with my day." "I don't understand any of you," Fabiola protested. "Fabiola, will Aya die?" Katrina asked. "Yes." "Why?" Katrina continued. "She is small, weak and hyperactive," Fabiola explained. "Cáel, will Aya die?" "No." "Why?" Katrina gazed at me. "Isn't she small, weak and hyperactive?" "Sure, she's small now, but she's only nine. Look at the size of all the other women in her house. None of them are super-tall either," I answered. "She's not hyperactive. She is very bright with a very active imagination. Once she finds her 'stillness'; her center; she'll do fine. If anything, she's too smart. She figures out that her guardians are worried, why they are worried and has to fight against their disappointment every time she does anything." Fabiola snorted, proving yet again she was clueless to her surroundings. "After all, Katrina, she's related to you and you are one of the scariest-smart people I've ever had the pleasure to know," I smiled. I could reply to Fabiola while not replying. "Cáel, go. You are unlikely to survive Buffy as it is," Katrina directed. Buffy was indeed apoplectic. She did manage to let me retrieve my bike before driving me home. Since I was dragging both all my business clothes, toiletries and my bike upstairs with crutches, it was painfully comical. A furious Buffy relented and took a few of my things. We had barely made it in the door when my phone rang. Buffy dumped my belongings in the center of the living room. "Hey," I answered the phone. "Hey, it's Odette," she greeted me happily. "Are you still in the HQ?" "Nope Odette," I grinned at Buffy. "I'm home. Do you want to come over?" "Sure; it's not going to be a problem, is it?" she asked. "I have a good friend over, but if you can stand my illicit behavior, you are more than welcome," I informed her. "Cool," she chirped. "I'll be over in about an hour." "See you soon. Until then Odette," I said. "Now I have to watch you fuck a whore?" Buffy stared at the ground. I wasn't going to go after for the 'whore' thing. She was at the end of her endurance. I knew that. I limped in front of her and pulled out her phone. She was too angry to look up at me so I knelt down. "Buffy," I showed her the text from Katrina about my six hour sexual exemption. She looked up and read it. "So? What does this mean?" Buffy looked ready to explode in tears and fists. "It means that when Constanza had her sword aimed at my throat I figured out a way to ease some of your fears," I stated. She blinked. "You worried that I'd be dead by the end of the month, and I did promise to try and make you the first Havenstone woman I made love to," I explained. "Constanza was about to kill you and you were thinking of me?" is what Buffy got out of all that. "Yeah. I also realized that Aya was far calmer than she was last Saturday, but the major thing was how to ask Katrina for the exemption and lure you here for the weekend," I told her. "Weekend?" Buffy studied me intently. "Yeah," I grinned seductively. "See, I figure we time everything. When we start something naughty, we flip on the timer and the moment we are done, we flip it off," I met her gaze. "That way we squeeze as much out of the six hours as possible; if that's what you want to do?" Buffy hugged me suddenly. "You were about to die and I was the one you were thinking about," Buffy wept. By that, I meant she fell apart emotionally. I had always seen Buffy so fierce that I was caught off-guard by this open vulnerability. I hugged her back and snuggled her close. She sniffled for several seconds. "This doesn't count, does it?" she hiccupped. "This is purely platonic. I'm bonding with my supervisor; team-building," I stated firmly. "Oh Goddess, you are crazy, you are crazy, you are crazy," she murmured into my shoulder. "Okay, I'm crazy. I also really want to have sex with you," I pushed her back so we could look eye to eye. "Or, are you going to make me beg like a big baby?" "I really want to have sex with you too," Buffy smiled; romantically. The fiery freakiness was gone to be replaced by a deeply sensual, gentle spirit. What the hell? "Let's go to the bedroom," I suggested. "We can try out the sofa later." "Is your leg going to be okay?" she suddenly worried. "Which one? Two of the three are working fine," I teased. No anger. "I love your sense of humor," Buffy snickered. I repeat; Huh? We stripped down then crawled under the sheets. Buffy was demure, calm and at peace. "Buffy, I don't want to ruin the mood," I said as I pulled her close. "But you are not acting normal and I don't know what to make of it," I completed. "I won," Buffy stroked my cheek lovingly. "I beat out everyone else for you. I gave it everything I had, you recognized that and came to me. This is me being happy, Cáel. Would you prefer me to be combative?" "I prefer you," I teased. The 'thank you' hovered right on the other side of unspoken. It wasn't in her. She was starting to get amorous. I pulled away to Buffy's momentary confusion then the condom came out, I ripped open the packet, slipped on the prophylactic and returned to my lover. I was about to slip into Buffy, missionary style. "Wait!" she stopped me. She hit two buttons on her wrist watch. "Timer," she explained. In I went. Buffy gasped slightly then began moving her legs up along my thighs. Years of experience made this a slow, gentle screw. This wasn't me wasting time; Buffy wanted savagery later. For her triumphal moment, she wanted to savor every second of this first time with her prize; me. Tender kissing and nuzzling were the signs of our affection. She ran her hands over my shoulders, back and ass. I would balance on my right arm while I coaxed delightful hums from Buffy. This was not Buffy's first time. By the level of stimulation she was giving me, this was unlikely to even be her 100th time. She knew her stuff. She had mentioned me physically and cerebrally engaging her being a reason she was so desperate to 'have' me. I had misinterpreted that. Buffy wanted a sex partner that could keep up in a way that went far beyond stamina; she hungered for matching skill and maturity. She could give me subtle clues with her body and I'd pick up on them, folding them back into my own actions and signals. There aren't too many that can meet me orgasm for orgasm. Buffy did. She crested first, but I was only seconds behind her. Before my final blasts, I rolled us over so that she was on top. I tried wiggle out of her. Buffy resisted. "Don't pull out yet," Buffy requested. "If I pull out, we can stop the clock," I insisted. "Oh," she giggled, "me lying naked on top of you in your bed isn't 'inappropriate behavior'?" "I won't tell if you won't," I snickered. Buffy cut of the timer on her wristwatch. Buffy was bringing her breathing under control and getting comfortable with our sweatiness. "If you hadn't been as good as your hype," Buffy whispered after a minute, "I think I would have fallen apart; and killed you; then probably myself." "Whoa," I reacted. "Explain that. Girls wanting to kill me is fine. Girls killing themselves for anything remotely involving me isn't." She mulled that over. She wasn't going to apologize yet felt a need to share something. I had to be patient. I've been with a lot of girls and a few guys who didn't take rejection well. That rarely had anything to do with the actual rejection. It was some festering wound much deeper and older than their encounter with me. "In high school I discovered the wonders of sex. I loved it. Not the lover, but the carnal act. I'd screw anyone, as long as it was something new and different," Buffy confided. "After a few bad incidents, my parents; my stepfather and my mother; threw me out because they thought I was a bad influence for my two younger sisters. I went to a city and did the only thing I was good at. I met this guy; you know the story. He would protect me, love me, blah, blah, blah," Buffy recalled painfully. "Slowly the sex stopped being fun. It was money and not my money at that. One night I got sick of it. 'He' wanted me to perform, I told him I was leaving so he and two buddies raped me. They raped me a lot over the next two days while they smoked meth and drank," she continued. "Finally, when they all passed out, I went to the place where he had his gun." "That wasn't going to be good enough for me," she tilted her head up to study my eyes. "I got his baseball bat instead and knocked them all out real good. I found a few garbage bag twist ties, tied their hands behind their backs and went at all three with a knife. I gutted them a bit so they were awake and in a shitload of pain; then I hacked their cocks and balls off." I was less revolted than I thought I'd be. I still felt my dick shrivel and my balls trying to retract into my bodies. I certainly wasn't going to joke about it; this was a serious sensitive moment for her. I stroked her hair. I could live with this revelation. I wasn't sure why I could, but my heart and mind weren't freaking out, so I went with my instincts. "I had barely finished up when the cops came bursting in. I had taken far longer torturing them than I imagined and their screams had been heard all over the housing complex. They Tasered me, I went to jail and finally to trial. My defense attorney argued an 'Insanity' Plea and I ended up in a mental facility," she was clearly relieved that I wasn't terrified. "A few months later, Katrina showed up," Buffy continued. "She wasn't where she is today. We talked a great deal, but there were only two crucial questions for her. 'Do you regret killing those men?' and 'Can you have sex again?' I answered 'no' and 'yes' after some thought. Two weeks later, I was transferred to a Havenstone facility, they cleaned me up, trained me, and I was stationed here." "What is with you and Elsa?" I prodded a handful of minutes later. "Don't go there, Cáel," Buffy muttered. "Do you seriously want me to confront her not knowing the whole score?" I countered. "She is a complete and total racist Bitch," she grumbled. "Please don't tell me it was a sex contest," I groaned. "If she is better than you, I'm going to die." Her grumbling lack of an explanation allowed me to crack a joke. Buffy 'punished' me by kissing my chin. "No, it wasn't a cunt-thing. If she can fuck you better than me, you have my permission to die," she smiled playfully. Scary. I was so used to her being scary, Buffy not being scary was scaring me. Push? "Well, the only thing I can do then, is a Buffy-Elsa-Cáel three-way," I sighed. "Okay," Buffy murmured. "Stop it!" I shouted. "You are freaking me out." Buffy giggled. I was howling off into madness on the inside. "I think you have company coming soon. We should get clean and put some clothes on," she exhaled joyously. By dressed, Buffy meant putting on my dress shirt; unbuttoned. She was like that, cross-legged on the sofa, eating Cheese Puffs and watching 'Real Housewives of Mumbai' when Odette arrived. It took Odette a second to realize this Buffy was the same firecracker from the last time they met. "Hi; um," Odette started. "We are fine. He fucked me. I'm in a state of grace," Buffy explained pleasantly; without a hint of menace, or fury. "Buffy; Odette Sievert," I made introductions. "Odette; Buffy Dubois." Odette strode right over to the sofa and plopped down beside Buffy. I had to struggle to not flinch. "He gives an incredible dicking, doesn't he?" Odette bubbled. "Yes," Buffy purred, "Yes, he does that and more. You are new to this whole 'love-making thing, aren't you?" "Pretty much," Odette openly admitted. "He gave me my first orgasm. I didn't realize how good sex was until I met Cáel." "I didn't realize how good sex was until I met me either," I joked. "Trust me," Buffy patted Odette's thigh, "I know a great deal about sex and I can assure you he's really, really good." "You are not wearing underwear," Odette noted. Life only got more bizarre. "Why don't you go into the bedroom, get one of his used dress shirts and put it on; and nothing else," Buffy advised. "It is a wonderful experience." "Oh God, don't I know it," Odette exulted. She jumped up and skipped into my bedroom. "Don't play with her," I cautioned Buffy. Buffy studied me then gave me a glowing look. "I'm trying to be a better companion Cáel," she told me. "I know I've put you through hell. I'm not going to apologize. I like the look of fear in your eyes. It is only matched by that look that says 'I'll get you for this'," she chuckled. "Just for that, its reverse cowgirl for you the next time we make love," I threatened. "How is that a threat?" Buffy teased. "I am absolutely positive you like my ass." "I bet he likes all of you," Odette sang out as she came out twirling in another one of my dressed shirts and nothing else. Odette had change really quick. I knew she came over bra-less. I was suspecting no underwear, or socks too. She sat down tightly next to Buffy. "So, how is this 'sharing' thing going to work?" Odette looked back and forth between us. "Have you ever been with a woman?" Buffy asked. "Don't be embarrassed about curiosity." "Ah; well, a little," Odette stammered. "Here is how it works," Buffy patted Odette's nervous hand. "I can only have sex with Cáel for five and a half more hours for the entire weekend. Since I like sex and you are here, I'm certainly interested in you." "Odette," she reassured my bed-buddy, "there is no pressure. I have gotten the most important thing; quality time with Cáel. Everything else is a bonus." "Oh; I'm okay with that," Odette nodded. Then she leaned in to kiss Buffy; maybe I should create a 'Sex for Beginners' CD. I was working gangbusters on expanding Odette's sexual horizons. Buffy wrapped a hand in Odette's hair and drew her into a steamer kiss. I settled in behind Odette, switching kisses between the back of Odette's head and Buffy's hand. "Wow," Odette panted. "You taste different than any guy I've kissed. I like it, but I like Cáel better." Before anyone thinks this never happens, or 'only in Hollywood (West Hollywood, that is), please understand I went to a rural college with a 70% female student enrollment. Convincing a girl to engage in a little girl-on-girl action to 'get me extra aroused' is insanely easy. The few times a lady has asked if I'd kiss a guy to get her 'extra aroused', I said 'for her and only for her'. Works every time. I've kissed a few guys, but only for charity. Fine; I've kissed a few guys in gay bars because Timothy intimated that we'd get our asses kicked if I didn't. He may have been playing me, but for all the shit I put him through, I can live with that. Back to the story: we had Odette in my bed in no time. I was on the bottom, Odette was lying on me, back to my chest and I was using my hips to piston into her while she moaned on top of me. Buffy was alternating between tantalizing Odette's clit and teasing her nipples. Using a very liberal definition for 'touching me', we decided that this wasn't consuming any of our 'exemption' time. Three orgasms later, Buffy poured an uber-contented Odette into her/my shirt and I carried her to the sofa. I put Odette's head in Buffy's lap, Buffy twirling Odette's forelock and Odette humming a happy tune. I was getting some apple and orange juice when Timothy's keys jangled in the door. He walked into the apartment and soaked up the scene. I took in that it was barely 8:30 and Timothy was in his date clothes. A seriously not-good situation. I diverted to him, drinks in hand, and hugged him. "Sorry Bro," I murmured. He hugged me back. "Buffy DuBois, this is Timothy." "Buffy? The crazy chick who wanted a hug?" Timothy chuckled. "She's not;” Odette mumbled. "Yes, that would be me," Buffy grinned sedately. Timothy looked down and shook his head. "That is some dick," he groused. "Damn Bro, "Timothy regarded me with some amusement, "did you bother to get her panties off, or was the mere thought of sex with you enough to cause a complete personality reversal?" "Cáel," Odette raised a shaking arm and commanded loftily, "put the drinks down and get us some ice cream. It is Bonding Time." She meant commiserating with Timothy over his dating failure. Timothy trundled off to his bedroom muttering something about 'getting into something more comfortable' and I delivered the drinks then doubled back for the ice cream and four spoons. Timothy ended up on the floor with his head resting against Odette's stomach. I offered to take the bottom spot. Timothy accepted the gesture then pointed out I was the guy with the bum leg. I ended up with Odette's feet in my lap. The flavor of the night was Cherry Vanilla and we were all making inroads into the supply quickly. Timothy dialed up Ninja Assassin on Netflix. Ten minutes in I realized why. There was this Asian actor who was really hot and extremely physically fit. Odette agreed. "You two can't believe any of this is real," Buffy commented shortly after. "This is absurd. Nothing and no one kills like that." She had professional pride after all. It hadn't taken me three days to figure out that the Executive Service babes' main purpose in life was not laundry delivery. They went everywhere and saw everything; just like a secret police force. Odd, huh? "Speaking of absurd and unreal," Timothy snickered. "Cáel, two ladies screaming Extreme High Maintenance showed up this morning. Apparently you weren't answering your phone, work said you were out of the office, and some spooky chicks at Havenstone showed them the door with something akin to a threat of lethal violence," he continued. "From long experience as your roommate, I could tell you'd fucked them to Nirvana and they wanted more." "From long experience'?" Buffy wondered. "You haven't known him two months yet." "Lady, this happens at least once a week with this guy. You are playing with the hair of one of those women right now," Timothy told her. "Yeah," Odette sighed happily. I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that Buffy hadn't threatened me with violence in the past four hours. Not even a glower. "So, what did you tell them?" I asked my bud. "I looked terribly put out then informed them you'd decided to become a Dominican and gone to a monastery in Italy to train," Timothy smirked. "What did you really say?" I thumped his head with my spoon. Before anyone goes 'iew, don't eat with that', I would remind you how pervasive hair is in a bachelor pad. Vacuum and you'll find out. "I told them you work in Looney Tunes Central; which they bought surprisingly easily; and that you would give them a call the moment your destiny was returned to you," Timothy said. I was willing to bet he used those exact words too. "What has Cáel told you about Havenstone?" Buffy prodded. "No way, Buffy," Timothy shook his head. "You are still one of those crazy bitches. Cáel hasn't told me the real deal, but when he looked me in the eye and said you ladies might kill me, I knew he wasn't playing around. He was afraid for my life." "Do you really think we would hurt you?" Buffy persisted. "You put an arrow in my boy; and he's got the magic dick. Since I'm not likely to put out for you ladies, I pretty much believe you'll put one through my heart without batting an eye," Timothy countered. "What would you do if he simply stopped showing up one day?" Buffy mused. "Not ask," Timothy snapped off his reply. "I trust Cáel enough to heed his warning and get on with my life." "Cáel has a big heart," Buffy regarded me warmly. "It is one of the many things that makes him a great prize." "Salmon; Angel Falls," Timothy taunted me. Before I even started at Havenstone, he had warned me that I had no chance of making it in that women-dominated Hell. He was right and he loved rubbing it in; the Bastard. To clarify: a salmon is a stupid fish who follows his penis to his death and Angel Falls in Venezuela is the Earth's longest, continuous waterfall; that's 807 meters for those who don't want to use Wikipedia. "Timothy, if there was any doubt, there will be no mention of Tuesday night and what came afterwards," I urged my guy. "Way ahead of you," Timothy chuckled. That was Rhada we were talking about. "If you are going to hang around Cáel, you will have to get used to all the other ladies," Odette sighed comfortably up at Buffy. "I know," Buffy stroked Odette's ear. "Also, if you see me outside of Cáel's home, be afraid of me because if you aren't, bad things might happen to you. Do we understand each other?" "No," Odette hesitated to respond. "Don't worry about it; just do it," Buffy warned her; affectionately. I was going mad. For the rest of the movie, everyone behaved. We emptied the ice cream container. Timothy went for beers. He bought back three. "Where is mine?" Odette inquired. "I don't think you are old enough to drink," Timothy told her. "Odette, if you give Buffy a kiss steamy enough to curl her toes, I'll give you mine," I offered. Odette weighed the offer, rolled over and crawled into Buffy's lap. The kiss was classic me; teasing contact; light tongue; full kiss; re-arrangement of tonsils. I was so proud of my girl. "That was exceedingly pleasant, Odette," Buffy grinned once the French kiss eventually ended. I handed Odette my beer. She remained straddling Buffy's lap, perfectly at ease. "Dude, do you have any guy friends you can bring over and make gay?" Timothy pleaded with me. We knew that didn't happen. "Fine, bi will do," he grinned. "I'm not a lesbian," Odette wiggled in Buffy's lap. "I just like Buffy." "Buffy likes you," Buffy placed a light kiss on Odette's lips. "Let's go to the bedroom." Acid test time. "Sure," Odette hopped up. She took Buffy's hand and pulled her up. Hand in hand they went to my room. I rose to follow. "We'll call you when we are ready," Buffy teased me. They went into my boudoir and shut the door. "Now you know how I feel," Timothy sighed. "Not really," I patted his shoulder. "In thirty, or forty minutes, I'm going to go in there and do some serious boning. Personally, I don't know how you take sleeping alone so often." Timothy and I sat down on the sofa. "You are an asshole," he grumbled. "Considering what you do to assholes, I don't know how to take that," I joked. He hit me. "Being gay would be the only thing that would make you more fun," Timothy laughed. I wondered how Katrina would take my sexual conversion. I deciding telling her would be unwise. I had another rescue flare about how out of control my life had become; Odette had seen my latest series of bandaged wounds and hadn't forced me to create some lie to explain them away. Damn. To be continued in Part 11 By FinalStand for Literotica.

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  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

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/anthropology

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/sociology

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/european-studies

Cashua and the DJ catch up and talk about random topics? --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/postcovidwrld-podcast/support

Addressing questions about what it means to be ‘British' or ‘Irish' in the twenty-first century, Migrants, Immigration and Diversity in Twentieth-Century Northern Ireland: British, Irish or “Other”? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023) focuses its attention on twentieth-century Northern Ireland and demonstrates how the fragmented and disparate nature of national identity shaped and continues to shape responses to social issues such as immigration. Immigrants moved to Northern Ireland in their thousands during the twentieth century, continuing to do so even during three decades of the Troubles, a violent and bloody conflict that cost over 3,600 lives.  Foregrounding the everyday lived experiences of settlers in this region, in this groundbreaking book, Dr Jack Crangle comparatively examines the perspectives of Italian, Indian, Chinese and Vietnamese migrants in Northern Ireland, outlining the specific challenges of migrating to this small, intensely divided part of the UK. The book explores whether it was possible for migrants and minorities to remain ‘neutral' within an intensely politicised society and how internal divisions affected the identity and belonging of later generations. An analysis of diversity and immigration within this divided society enhances our understanding of the forces that can shape conceptions of national insiders and outsiders - not just in the UK and Ireland - but across the world. It provokes and addresses a range of questions about how conceptions of nationality, race, culture and ethnicity have intersected to shape attitudes towards migrants. In doing so, the book invites scholars to embrace a more diverse, ‘four-nation' approach to UK immigration studies, making it an essential read for all those interested in the history of migration in the UK. This interview was conducted by Niall Herron, a PhD student at Queen's University Belfast in Anthropological Studies, researching queer assemblages during the Troubles in NI.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/british-studies

AP correspondent Ben Thomas reports, at the Democratic convention, Hillary Clinton roused Democrats with vision of Kamala Harris on 'other side of that glass ceiling' if elected president.

Accused Gilgo Beach Serial Killer Rex Heuermann was back in court Tuesday for a hearing over evidence in the case. Heuermann's lawyer, Michael Brown, pushed back on the evidence the district attorney says he has that points to Heuermann as the killer. Law&Crime's Angenette Levy details some of what Brown said and talks with the attorney for Heuermann's children about another lawyer's claims that Heuermann's daughter was involved in the murders in this episode of Crime Fix — a daily show covering the biggest stories in crime.PLEASE SUPPORT THE SHOW: Download the FREE Upside App at https://upside.app.link/crimefix to get an extra 25 cents back for every gallon on your first tank of gas.Host:Angenette Levy https://twitter.com/Angenette5Guest: Vess Mitev https://x.com/mitevlawfirmCRIME FIX PRODUCTION:Head of Social Media, YouTube - Bobby SzokeSocial Media Management - Vanessa BeinVideo Editing - Daniel CamachoGuest Booking - Alyssa Fisher & Diane KayeSTAY UP-TO-DATE WITH THE LAW&CRIME NETWORK:Watch Law&Crime Network on YouTubeTV: https://bit.ly/3td2e3yWhere To Watch Law&Crime Network: https://bit.ly/3akxLK5Sign Up For Law&Crime's Daily Newsletter: https://bit.ly/LawandCrimeNewsletterRead Fascinating Articles From Law&Crime Network: https://bit.ly/3td2IqoLAW&CRIME NETWORK SOCIAL MEDIA:Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lawandcrime/Twitter: https://twitter.com/LawCrimeNetworkFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/lawandcrimeTwitch: https://www.twitch.tv/lawandcrimenetworkTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@LawandCrimeSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Guest host, Adam Zivo speaks with Tom Korski, the Managing Editor of Blacklock's Reporter about Whistleblower leaks to reporters hurt democracy, complains the Department of Immigration. Managers are telling employees to send complaints to an ''anonymous'' line acknowledged media were bound to hear it anyway, Employment Minister Randy Boissonnault's business partner has admitted he lied to reporters about company dealings. All this and more! GUEST: Tom Korski - Managing Editor of Blacklock's Reporter X(formerly Twitter): @mindingottawa Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Foreign correspondent Peter Hessler taught in China during the country's economic boom in the 1990s, which he wrote about in his book River Town. Now, in Other Rivers, Hessler breaks down what it was like to teach there again more than two decades later. In today's episode, he and NPR international correspondent Emily Feng talk about what changed — and what stayed the same — with a new generation of students in China and how covering the country remains a challenge for so many writers and journalists. To listen to Book of the Day sponsor-free and support NPR's book coverage, sign up for Book of the Day+ at plus.npr.org/bookofthedayLearn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Jason sits down with FOX News Correspondent Mike Tobin as he shares his upbringing as a gymnast in Illinois and covering international stories across the FOX airwaves. Mike gives an insider's perspective into what it is like to be on the ground in Gaza and his message to Pro-Palestinian college protestors. He also dishes as to why his "super-power" is Jiffy-Pop popcorn! Plus, Jason weighs in on President Biden's recent response to immigration and how this could potentially affect voter identification laws in the upcoming Presidential Election. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I spoke to Christina Keßler of the Centre for European Reform (CER) about the current EU elections and the possibility of Europe taking a turn to the right.You can find Christina's work at the CER here: https://www.cer.eu/personnel/christina-kesslerSeparately, I appeared on the new podcast Quiet Riot. Find the episode here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/6RGol2iYEkToCCrYjFUwkm?si=4FDTU1NaTgOaRfGf_Y2Qog Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week on the podcast, Gervase introduces us to her mentor Nick Werber from the Focalizing Institute, as they discuss generational trauma patterns and how they can shape our childhood, adulthood, and even influence parenting practices. Nick shares specifically how family dynamics create outsider roles like the scapegoat and black sheep of the family and why we need these nonconformists. Listen in as Gervase and Nick share their personal experiences with these outsider roles, and how they and others who have been handed these (at times) trauma-fueled titles can utilize the practice of Focalizing to begin move the needle forward, redefine themselves from an internal place without needing external validation, and even make cycle-breaking a bit easier for the next generation.    Connect with Nick: Nick Werber - nicknwerber.comNick Werber | Integrative Coach (@nickwerber_) • Instagram Join Nick's 'Other' workshop series   Save 10% on coaching packages til June 6th: Check it out here: https://www.gervasekolmos.com/phoenix-coaching   Connect with Gervase on Instagram: www.instagram.com/gervasekolmos Get my weekly emails: https://www.gervasekolmos.com/free-framework *If you'd like to invite Gervase into your company to facilitate coaching or conversation to shift company culture, please email us at hi@gervasekolmos.com   Resources: G | Integrative Coach (@gervasekolmos) • Instagram photos and videos  

The basement flat of 13A Finborugh Road in Fulham was the home of 25-year-old Gertrude Yates, a high-class call-girl who was smart, well-liked and polite. But on the morning of Monday 6th March 1922, Gertrude was found beaten, gagged and strangled by her latest client – an Army Major who was called Ronald True. But who had really murdered her? Was it Ronald True, or was it the ‘other' Ronald True?Murder Mile is researched, written and performed by Michael of Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein and Jon Boux of Cult With No Name and additional music, as used under the Creative Commons License 4.0. A full listing of tracks used and a full transcript for each episode is listed here and a legal disclaimer.For links click hereTo subscribe via Patreon, click here LIVE SHOW in South Shields, Sunday 2nd June 2024 @ 7:30pm - CLICK HERE. LIVE SHOW - Birmingham Glee Club, Monday 3rd June @ 7:30pm - CLICK HERESupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/murdermile. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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