#branson flex

[newpersonteeth11]

HM/YN Cuck

You were a Managing Director at Blackstone, with an annual salary of $5 million and over $25 million in savings. Your boyfriend was Branson Rummans, a man twenty years your junior to whom you acted as a sort of sugar daddy, paying for his expenses.

One day, you finished a long day at work, and you came back home to your penthouse (valued at $15 million), to see your boyfriend worshipping another man's cock.

You immediately yelled that both of them had to get out, and you and Branson were over. Henry just laughed, flexed, and said, "I'm sorry, do you want to try that again, faggot."

You began stuttering and mumbling something about how it was your apartment, Henry then said, "Crawl to me, faggot". You continued to stutter, and Henry said, "Now!" and you instinctively fell to your knees and replied, "I'm sorry Henry" He replied, "It's sir, fag" You then replied, "I'm sorry sir" and crawled to Henry. Henry just laughed, "You're such a fag, I can take over your entire life in just one word. Isn't that right, fag?" "Yes sir, I'm a worthless fag," you replied.

Henry then said, "Now, let's set out some ground rules. First of all, all of your paycheques will be deposited into my account, not yours. The house will be transferred to my name. You will not spend a single cent, unless I say yes. Branson is now my boyfriend, and I will occupy the master bedroom. The two other bedrooms will be a gym and an office for me, and you will sleep in the storage closet. And you will replace your nephews and nieces in your will with me.

He then flexed and revealed his pit, "Now is that understood, fag." "Yes sir," you replied. "Good fag," he said, "Now, I'm going to go fuck my new boyfriend, you draw up the paperwork to transfer the house and move your things to the closet." You immediately ran off to sign over your house and move your things, while Sir face-fucked your, no his, boyfriend. After an hour, Branson was knocked out on the bed, in a galaxy of orgasmic pleasure, while Henry called you over. You immediately ran to enter, and asked, "How may I serve you, sir?" "Get me the deed transfer document, fag.", he said. You immediately kneeled handed Henry the documents, and then bowed head-to-feet.

He looked over the documents, and signed them. Then he ordered you to clean the bedroom. When you entered, you saw cum everywhere, you began cleaning. The next day, you went to work, where you were the boss, and when you came home you immediately got on you knees and asked Sir if you could sleep. Henry replied, "Did I say you could speak!" You immediately began stammering and apologizing, and he said, "For that, no allowance for a week." You thanked him for his mercy. He then ordered you to give him your account passwords and numbers, you thanked him. He then used your accounts to acquire a acreage in BC, for $8.4 million. The acreage was put in his name, while your name was put on for the loan. He, however, didn't tell you that he was on the title, and he ordered you to drive him to the new mansion.

At the new mansion he enjoyed the beach, while you had sand kicked in your face.

He then relaxed in the ocean, while you tread water. Every few minutes, he kicked you, causing you to fall underneath the water. This was his entertainment.

He then found a woman he deemed "worthy" and fucked her and then fucked her sister.

Both of them were a mess, and begged Henry to let them stay. Even offering to quit their jobs, give him all their money, and serve as his sex slaves.

He just laughed, and ordered them to quit their jobs, and move into the basement of the acreage. He installed chains to keep them there and they thanked him. After that, he explained the nature of your relationship with you.

"Fag, you are like this flame. Small, insignificant, and only there because I let you. Now all I would need to do is blow and poof you're gone. You got that through your tiny head, fag." "Yes sir, thank you for demonstrating your power, sir." you said.

For the next two years, you worked at Blackstone, eventually becoming Senior Partner, $22 million a year, however your entire salary went to Henry. He gave you an allowance of $1,000 a month, and if you did anything that displeased him, even just waking up one minute late, he would take away your allowance. He then ordered you to invest in twelve companies, founded and owned by him, with the fund your managed, tantamount to embezzlement. You paid tens of millions, for companies worth thousands. By the end of the year, you had paid $125 million of fund money, and other $75 million in firm money. Then Henry took the $200 million, combined with the $50 million he took from you, and ordered you to admit to the fraud. You were immediately arrested, fired, and are currently incarcerated. He took the stolen money, and continue living his lavish life.

[speedyposts]

Amid a fairly flat European market, Giant Ventures raises $250M to invest transatlantically

Giant Ventures, a UK-based VC that has made a habit of investing on both sides of the Atlantic, is launching two new funds, totalling $250 million. It’s previous fund had totalled $100 million.

The firm invests across climate, health, and what it calls ‘purpose-driven’ startups and some used to call ‘impact’ or ‘mission-driven’. 

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Whatever the case, the raise consists of a new $100 million seed fund which will aim to back around 25 early-stage companies, while a $150 million climate-focused growth fund will aim at Series B companies. The firms says it’s made 10 investments so far from the two funds.

Prior to this, Giant had invested in mental health app Calm, carbon removal platform Agreena, British energy storage startup Field (which has raised $300 million), and health industry startup Doccla.

Part of Giant’s main “pitch” to startups, if you will, is that it is led by former founders and operators in a European ecosystem where 92% of European venture capitalists have never worked at a startup. The firm is led by Cameron McLain, an exited founder, and Tommy Stadlen, co-founder of Swing Technologies (acquired by Microsoft). 

Admittedly that has begun to change in recent years with the appearance of new funds such as Plural,  https://techcrunch.com/2024/01/22/plural-the-vc-led-by-founders-pulls-together-a-new-432m-fund-to-back-european-startups  which is helmed by exited founders from Wise, Songkick, and others.  Plural recently raised a fresh €400 million fund 

Over a call, Stadlen told me: “Half of this capital is going into European companies, including the UK, and then half of it is going into the US companies. So we’re fully transatlantic. we’ve got people in London, where the headquarters is, but also we have folks in Copenhagen, Stockholm, New York, and California.”

Advisory board members include former BP CEO Lord Browne, former British Foreign Secretary David Miliband, and 23andme founder Linda Avey. 

Giant’s LPs include BMW, Henkel, RIT Capital Partners, clients of Cambridge Associates, Stepstone, Denmark’s sovereign investment fund, The Nature Conservancy (US), and Sir Richard Branson.

The news is not unwelcome in an environment where Britain has consistently ranked near the bottom of the G7 in recent years for all sources of private investment in the economy.

Although several UK VC’s signed up to a scheme to boost investment in startups last year, this will undoubtedly take a while to filter through the ecosystem. 

VC in Europe has been hit by a weak economy, and has been mostly flat ove the last two years. Startup investment slumped in 2023 to $45 billion. 

Meanwhile, North American Investors are retrenching, with Omers and Coatue, downgrading their activity.

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[wejustvibing]

"invited to space" implies a spaceflight via jeff bezos or elon musk, or even richard branson. who are all.... ick-inducing.

lewis is absolutely right. the resource that it takes for a singular space flight are exorbitant, and the whole thing is completely unnecessary.

yes omg that was my thought too once i got over his casual flex! except i only thought about richard branson lmao 😭 totally agree with you. a great call on his part. but!! i'm just amazed at how he just brushed past it like that

#anonymous

[pikapeppa]

Cullen/Lavellan fluffy smut: Mornings

For @schoute​, who made INCREDIBLE ART that absolutely needs some words to go along with it.

~2300 words; read on AO3 instead.

Cullen had always had a fondness for mornings. 

As long as he could remember, he’d been an early riser. Waking with the sun was the best way to greet a fresh day of possibilities. It didn’t hurt that the rest of his siblings were late risers, either; mornings were a time of peace for Cullen, a few scant hours when he was spared from Mia’s nagging or teasing and from Branson and Rosalie’s constant bids for attention. While dawn was cresting over the hills of Honnleath, Cullen would creep out of the bedroom he shared with Branson and greet his smiling parents before scuttling out to the clearing behind the village — a nice quiet place where he could practice his sword training with sticks and the driftwood shield his father had fashioned for him.

Being an early riser came in handy when he joined the Templars, as well. While the other recruits were grumbling on their way out of bed, stumbling puffy-eyed toward their armour racks to prepare for the morning drills, Cullen was bright-eyed and dressed and ready to tackle the daily drills and training. Once Cullen was sworn into the Templars, his penchant for early mornings continued to be a boon, and when his colleagues teased him for always volunteering for early morning duty, Cullen didn’t mind. 

After the uprising at Kinloch Hold, however, Cullen’s mornings became more of a reprieve than a pleasant start to the day. Nightmares of demons and abominations plagued his mind, making most of his nights an exercise in staying silent and still so as not to disturb his other surviving brethren. When the mornings came, it was a relief to rise from his bunk and to have something to do — anything to do, really, to occupy his mind and to distract him from the memories that haunted his exhausted mind at night. 

It remained this way for many years. At night, Cullen lay in his bed in the barracks and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered what terrible memories his sleeping mind would conjure and twist, and he prayed for the morning to come as swiftly as possible to free him from the necessary pain of sleep. When he transferred from Kinloch Hold to Kirkwall, his routine remained the same: lie down, attempt to sleep, and wait for the morning to arrive and relieve him of the anxious thoughts that wouldn’t deign to leave him in peace. 

As the years slid by in Kirkwall, it only grew worse. The conflict between Templars and apostates haunted his days while his memories became corrupted in his dreams, and when the mornings came, the reality of the waking day was a paltry relief from the horror of his nights. 

At some point along the way, Cullen stopped enjoying his mornings. He rose early out of necessity, not out of a love for the freshness of a new day. He rose early to escape the confines of his own mind, not to embrace the potential of what he could achieve. It wasn’t until he joined the Inquisition that his mornings once again became something to look forward to.

It wasn’t until he fell in love with Piper that his mornings once again became something he could enjoy.

Piper was a light that guided his waking days as surely as the sun that climbed across the sky. Her chirping laugh echoed in his ears before he slept at night, and her crooked scarred smile was the first thing on his mind when he woke. On those occasions when she was home at Skyhold for the night, the warmth of her naked skin lulled him to sleep, and her unruly cloud of silverite-coloured hair the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

When the mornings came, Piper was there beside him. Her tawny skin was a maze of intricate tattoos and scars, and the in-and-out of her sleeping breath was a soft echo of the breeze that flitted through unrepaired holes in the ceiling of his room. As the sun continued to rise, it would light the silvery strands of her hair to a scintillating shine, and when she finally opened her eyes to smile at him, it was like watching the rising of the sun as the contentment bloomed across her lovely face.

“Good morning, Golden Boy,” she whispered, and the husky sound of her sleep-laced voice was a better herald of the nascent day than the chirping of the birds that lived in Skyhold’s courtyard. She stretched out beside him in the bed, twisting her hips and flexing her toes as though to welcome her consciousness back into her body, and Cullen admired the warm shades of her body: the light caramel of her skin highlighted by her tattoos and her scars, the dusky pink of her yawning lips and the peachy warmth of her nipples as she twisted her spine – warm and summery shades and tones, not unlike the colours of the rising sun…  

She chuckled and tucked her arms under her head. “See something you like, Commander?” she purred.

He lifted his eyes from her body to her face. “I certainly do,” he said softly. 

Her smile widened, and she stretched once more, slowly twisting her hips in such a way as to unerringly draw his eyes back to her body. “This isn’t a fancy fabric shop in Val Royeaux, you know,” she said playfully. “You can look and touch if you like.”

Cullen huffed in amusement at her comment, but he took advantage of her invitation to run his hand over her belly and up to her breast. He brushed his palm over her nipple before teasing the tiny bud with his thumb, and by the time her nipple was a hardened little peak, parts of Cullen’s body were feeling distinctly hardened as well – something that Piper, as usual, immediately noticed. 

She arched her spine with a happy little sigh, then reached down between his legs, and Cullen  dragged in a sudden breath as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. She began to slowly stroke his length, and he groaned and blissfully dropped his mouth to her shoulder. 

He hungrily kissed Piper’s shoulder, then the edge of her collarbone and the delicate upper swell of her perfect petite breast, and Piper lifted her hips. “Cullen,” she breathed. 

“Yes, Piper?” he murmured against her skin. Then he took her nipple in his mouth. 

She gasped and squeezed his manhood, and Cullen gasped as well as a ripple of pleasure bolted from his groin up through his chest. He stroked her other breast, teasing her nipple until the peak was hardened and she was whimpering, then slid his palm down over her belly to delve his fingers between her legs. 

She mewled and jerked her hips, and Cullen released a shaky breath against her breast. She was slick already, fragrant and slippery and waiting, and Cullen swallowed hard to control his lust as he stroked her clit. 

Piper mewled again and sank her fingers into his hair, and Cullen closed his eyes, comforted and aroused in equal measure by the gentle pressure of her fingers against his scalp. He petted the tiny pearl between her legs until she was twisting her hips, and when her fingers tensed in his hair, his own lust thrummed even more eagerly in anticipation. 

Sure enough, she arched her spine and thrust her hips toward his hand. “Cullen!” she cried. “Fuck me, fuck me now, come here and fuck me…” She trailed off with a moan and resumed her stroking of his cock, and Cullen groaned with longing before taking her nipple in his mouth once more. 

Without moving his lips from the enticing taste of her skin, he shifted between her legs. She was breathing roughly now, ragged little gasps that only grew rougher as he rocked his manhood through the perfect slick softness of her flesh. She arched her spine and lifted her hips, rubbing herself against him in a perfectly wanton way, and Cullen couldn’t restrain himself anymore: he lifted his mouth from her breast, then kissed her firmly and sheathed himself inside of her. 

She cried out and clasped his shoulder and his neck, and Cullen groaned into her lips with equal satisfaction. She was perfectly warm inside and out, the warmth of her mouth and the warmth of her fragrant tattooed skin and the perfect slick warmth between her legs, and Cullen gloried in the feel of Piper’s heat before starting to move. He curled his hips toward her, then arched his back before thrusting toward her once more, and when Piper lifted her hips to meet him, they both released a gasp that ghosted across each other’s lips. 

He twined his fingers with hers, pressing her hands into the bed as their bodies met with growing zeal. His pleasure was surging with every eager stroke and every lusty gasp that parted from Piper’s lips, and in the space of just a few minutes, his neck and forehead were laced with sweat. 

Piper bucked her hips and strained against his hands. “I want to be on top,” she blurted. 

“Of course,” he groaned. “Anything you like…” He released her and sat back, and before she was even fully upright, she was pushing his chest and forcing him onto his back. Her small callused hands were sliding over his pecs, and she was straddling his hips and shoving her silvery mane back from her face, and–

Cullen jolted and cried out. He was inside of her once more, sheathed so deeply inside of her that the exquisite feel of her drove him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he wrenched his eyes open once more, it was to see Piper’s lovely petite breasts bobbing over his head as she braced her palms on the headboard. 

“Fuck yes,” she moaned, and she began riding him hard. 

Cullen stared gormlessly at her breasts. The rhythm of her body was rapid and frenzied with need, and he gaped at her in awe, eyes wide as he studied the lithe lines of her body and the perfect curve of her breasts and the peach-pink peaks of her nipples as they swayed over his face…

He couldn’t resist. She was far too tempting. He lunged toward her and took her nipple in his mouth.

She cried out and began riding him harder still, and Cullen greedily slid his palms from her waist down to her bottom. He savoured the roundness of her flesh in his palms and the softness of her breast against his lips, and as the brightness of the sun through the ceiling graced his closed eyelids, he couldn’t help but marvel at how wonderful this all was. The slats of golden light peeking through the unrepaired roof and the tawny-golden shade of her skin; the fresh scent of dew in the mountain air and the mouth-watering scent of Piper’s feminine dew as she rolled her hips down to meet his own; the coolness of the morning air whispering across his sweat-laced skin as he savoured the slick heat of Piper’s body crowning his own: this was the best way to spend an early morning. Cullen had never had mornings like this, and he’d never known that mornings could be this pleasurable or this precious. 

Then Piper had come along. And whether she was present at Skyhold or not, Piper was the reason that Cullen happily greeted every waking day.

She gently pulled his head away from her breast, then slanted her lips over his in a hard kiss, and Cullen gripped her bottom more firmly in his hands. His climax was spiralling toward him once more, thrumming between his legs and low in his belly and coiling in the muscles of his calves, and when it finally came upon him, it was with a dizzying crash that drew an uninhibited groan from his gasping lips.

By the time his body stopped trembling and he could once more open his eyes, Piper’s kiss had calmed from a passionate melding of  their lips to a sweet and gentle caress. Cullen smiled faintly as he kissed her back, and when Piper chuckled softly, he could feel her laughter through his lips.

She settled herself comfortably on his body so her chest was flush to his, and Cullen gazed adoringly at her. The corners of her lips were curled in a tiny smile, and her hazel eyes were more golden than green in the early morning light. She smiled at him without speaking, and as uncharacteristic as her silence was, Cullen understood: if she spoke, the idyll of the morning would be broken, and they would be forced to start the day. 

He smiled at her and stroked the silvery waves of her hair. Carefully and gently, he gathered some of her lush hair in his fist, then gently pulled her close. 

Her smile widened for a moment, and then she was kissing him once more. Her lips were sweet and soft, and her often-dirty feet were brushing against his legs in an idle caress, and for a wonderful, relaxed moment, Cullen simply savoured this moment and everything it meant – everything he’d never really thought to find: peace and comfort and pleasure with someone that he loved. He savoured the feel and taste of Piper’s smiling lips, and when she finally pulled away with a rueful smile, Cullen didn’t mind; a new day was here, and with Piper by his side, it was full of potential and the possibility for good.

Cullen had always had a fondness for mornings. But with Piper in his life and in his bed, mornings had become the finest part of his day. 

#cullen rutherford #cullen smut #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #piperford #I LOVE THESE BABES AND THIS ART #pikapeppa writes #schoute draws

[rudequotesofmagic]

Ali: I assu - it’s a mon - if I’m speaking to animals, can I talk to a spider?

Branson: I don’t know why you couldn’t, it’s an animal.

Tim: I mean, spiders aren't insects, they’re arachnids.

Branson: Arachnids are animals.

Tim: Hmm?

Branson: Arachnids are animals.

Carly: Tim just wanted to make sure we knew -

Branson: Yeah, he wanted to flex, but there’s no -

Tim: Well spiders are actually not insects, they’re arachnids.

Carly: No one said insects.

Branson: This isn’t “Talk to Insects.”

#When You’re Here #Ali Fisher #Branson Reese #Carly Monardo #Tim Platt

[podcastwizard]

the amount of talented people on dnd podcasts is genuinely incredible: branson reese, tim platt, beth may, joe lepore, emily axford, anthony burch, everyone else in one of those shows... they didn’t need to flex so hard but they really Did That

they don’t tell you this but you actually need a phd in comedy to be on a dnd podcast

#applying to grad school for my masters in goofs #queuelia burnsides

[votsalot]

⭐

Thank you so much again ;;;;; !

Answer under the cut:

“But...I'm not sure I'm right for William, neither. Am I?”

That was surprisingly self-aware. Daisy was already tuned to the direction social currents were running. War meant imminent death. Imminent death meant rash decisions. One popular rash decision amongst young men was marriage, usually to pretty girls within easy reach. On some level, Daisy clearly realized she was both.

“You're the only one who can suss that out,” he lowered his volume to match hers, casting a conspiratorial glance at all the empty doorways.

Not Mrs. Patmore. Certainly not William. Neither one could be called  a neutral party.

She considered this. “Suppose you're right.”

Thomas decided, in that moment, a little flex of his knowledge of the future wouldn’t do much harm.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret later,” he instructed her. “And don't be afraid to hold your ground.”

“Against what?”

“Nevermind,” he realized he’d let his cigarette burn almost halfway to nothing. “Just...remember you can tell them no.”

“Tell them no?” Daisy’s eyes followed him as he stood. “Whose ‘ them ’?”

I wanted to capitalize on the Thomas / Daisy friendship, because I really liked what they started to turn into in later seasons (and it could have been so much more, imo). One of my least favorite recurring Daisy story lines is the pressure for her to marry people - her story line in season 2 with William gives me so much second-hand anxiety, the whole thing is a runaway train that ends in matrimony. This is my response to that in the regard that in the show, JF tries to sell us this love story by making O’Brien and Thomas opposed to it (because we’re not supposed to like them? lmao).

So older!Thomas, the Thomas of 1928, gets the chance to try and elucidate to teenage Daisy why she feels so :/ about this romance that people keep trying to sow. And I know it’s still two years away within the canon at this point, but things are a little different because of reasons in this timeline and William for sure had a crush on her all that time anyhow. Daisy’s got an inkling. Of course, she’s still say yes and do it all again. What’s important is knowing she’s got the choice.

Side note: I am also excited to publish some Thomas / Branson bro stuff I’ve got planned for next chapter. Soon, Thomas will have collected them all...

#combeferre #asks

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 12/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Flashback: A bad day and an even worse decision.

Notes: So, I'm sorry. This kinda sucks, but here we are. This is for the amazing @thatravenclawbitch on the occasion of her birthday. Love you, babe. For the Writer's Month prompt #22: summer.

Warnings: Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags. No additional warnings for this chapter.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

1 week ago...

The revelation that there were two killers had been confirmed once the shoe print evidence had been reexamined. They’d spent the better part of the last week trying to track down Nick Branson’s connections and coming up dry every time. The summer heat wasn’t helping either, and the old building’s air conditioning had been on the fritz for the last two days. It had gotten so warm in her office that she gave up on her usual layers and was down to a silky cream colored camisole, her gray skirt, and no stockings.

Weaver had been in a mood all day, snipping and snarking at every other thing she said. They couldn’t agree on what to do next, and the frustration of the case and the lack of acknowledgement of what had happened between them boiled over. They’d had a pointless fight over the dry erase markers and the layout of the board now that they had two suspects, after which she’d stormed out of the office.

A few minutes later, when she came back in, he’d rearranged the board. That had been her tipping point.

“What the hell?” She pushed him aside and scowled at the board. “This isn’t going to make any sense.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “This is how I always do it.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Whatever, fine, you do the fucking board.”

He rolled his eyes and threw the marker down on the table. “What is this really about?”

Belle spun on her heel, folding her arms over her chest. “What the hell does that mean?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’re not seriously mad about the fucking colors of the markers and the way I’m taping paper to a whiteboard. So what is it?”

“I’m just -” She paused and huffed. “I’m just so fucking tired of you having to be right. I’m the one that figured out the shoe prints were different, and you’ve been acting like a huge dick since then. Are you pissed that I noticed it and you didn’t?”

Weaver let out a short laugh, and shook his head. “Why would I care who figured out what?”

“I don’t know, Ian!” She said, spreading her arms to either side before letting them fall to her sides. “I don’t - I don’t know what the hell this is. What are we doing here? You’ve been a jerk all day, and you won’t just fucking talk to me.”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back for a moment. “I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” she asked. “Were you going to tell me about your visit to Branson’s ex-girlfriend yesterday? Or how you threatened her to try to get information? Because I don’t remember you saying anything about that.”

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I didn’t threaten her -”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Right. I’m sure you were a perfect gentleman and that’s why she called the station to tell Graham that she didn’t know anything and not to send ‘that asshole cop back here again’?”

“Why do you care how I get the information?” he asked, the volume of his voice increasing. He shook his head and took a few steps towards her.

“Because someone needs to protect you from yourself!”

“Why?” Weaver could feel his entire body tense. He moved forward again, and she backed away, shuffling until she collided with the wall beside the sofa.

“Why?” she repeated, clearly as angry with him as he was with her. She wasn’t unsure if she was more annoyed that he wasn’t denying it, or that he seemed to think it was no big deal. “Because you -” She stopped and shoved roughly at his chest, “keep trying to commit career suicide. Because you’re better than that. Because you’re - a - a friend - and I don’t want -“

Her words were cut off when he lunged forward and put his hand around her neck, applying just enough pressure to get her attention. She froze, but she didn’t try to pull away or knee him. Instead she just stared up at him with those big blue eyes, her pupils so dilated he could barely see the color around the rim. Her throat flexed as she swallowed, and he could feel everything tighten between them, the air heavy and thick.

He pressed close and put his mouth close to her ear. “We’re not friends, and you fucking know it.”

She licked her lips, and his eyes trailed down, watching as her breasts rose and fell in short little breaths. Her nipples hardened against the silk of her camisole in spite of the heat of the room, and her back arched slightly. There was something incredibly erotic about the feel of her skin against the pads of his fingers, about a hold meant for violence and pain causing arousal and pleasure.

Her head tipped up. “What are you going to do?”

“Tell me to stop,” he said, the same as he had done just a little while ago when they were in a similar situation and about to make a huge mistake. His hand slid down over her chest to cup her breast, squeezing gently.

“No,” she said, her voice sounding far more certain than she felt. She knew this was wrong, but for some reason she’d decided she didn’t care. She inhaled on a sharp breath, her hands fumbling for his belt.

He leaned forward with every intention of kissing her, but instead he just brushed his lips over hers teasingly, until she pushed off the wall, straining for him even as she tried to work his jeans open. When he finally pressed his lips to hers it was wet and rough, a kiss that ravaged as much as anything. She whimpered into his mouth, her body pressing into his touch. He played with her while he kissed her, running his knuckles over her aching nipples.

Belle broke the kiss and gasped, and he pushed his leg between hers. She nearly sobbed at the friction as she moved against him, his jeans rough against the thin, damp material covering her pussy. Her arousal soaked through onto the denim, the two fabrics sliding over each other, rubbing her clit just right.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her skin. He nipped and licked at her neck, his left hand still playing with her nipple while the other slipped into her hair. “Come for me. Come before I even get my cock in you.”

Then he pinched her nipple hard, sending a shock of pain and pleasure running through her. She cried out and then bit her lip as the tension broke suddenly.

“Ian -” she managed, unable to string any more words together after that while her cunt contracted and her hips rolled against his leg, riding out her pleasure.

She hadn’t quite come down from her high when he moved his leg, and she nearly cursed him. Before she got the chance he was reaching beneath her skirt. His fingers found the sodden material and cupped her. “Fucking Christ, Belle.”

Belle looked down and could see the wet spot on his jeans as he took hold of her underwear and pulled hard. The sound and feeling of the fabric ripping was lost in her gasp. His hand ran up her thigh to feel the heat of her, and slipped his fingers in where she was already wet and aching. She reached out and grabbed at his shirt, wishing she could touch more of him, missing the feeling of his skin beneath her hands.

Weaver drove one finger hard into her pussy, pushing deep and pulling out a cry of pleasure. She lifted one leg to his hip, trying to get closer, get more.

“Ian,” she begged.

He added another finger, stretching her, and she immediately began riding them, her hips to match his bruising pace.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “Hard and rough?”

Her teeth sunk into her lip and she managed a ragged, “Yes.”

She was so close to coming again, her body already desperate for it. Her nails dug into his shirt, pulling at the fabric. She wished she could give him the same pleasure he was giving her.

“Please,” she gasped.

He smirked and nipped at her earlobe. “Please what?”

His fingers left her, and she keened, the peak she was so close to falling over fading with every second. She hated that she was this easy, that he knew how to push every single one of her buttons and get what he wanted. And that he knew she wanted it too. “Fuck me.”

Weaver fumbled with the buckle of his belt and the zip on his jeans, managing to free his cock. She looked down at his erection, bobbing obscenely between them. Her hand wrapped around him, her grip loose and almost teasing as she moved up and down his length. Every grunt and curse was music to her ears, and when she brushed her thumb over the head of his cock, he jerked in her hand. Her pussy throbbed as she recalled the feeling of it inside her.

“Belle - fuck -” He swore as she let go of him, and took a moment to catch his breath.

He wanted her naked, wanted the warmth of her skin and the soft press of her curves. He wanted nothing between them, but instead there was everything. Clothes, hurtful words, and too much time.

Weaver bent and hooked his hands beneath her knees, lifting her up off the ground. She let out a surprised little noise, and he pushed her back against the wall, pinning her with his body. Her hand reached down to take him in hand.

He swore again, and she leaned her head forward to kiss him as he slid into her with one long, hard thrust. She bit his lip and cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded into her. Their movements made a soft thud against the wall, and she prayed that the late hour meant everyone had gone home. He pressed his mouth to the base of her neck, sucking hard on her skin, using his teeth and tongue to scrape and soothe.

One of her hands began tugging at the short strands of his hair, and he felt the first flutters of her cunt around him.He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, but he didn’t want to stop, couldn’t imagine ever doing anything but sliding in and out of Belle’s hot, wet cunt while she begged him to give her more.

“You feel so fucking good around my cock,” he said, burying his face against her neck. “Wanna feel you come again.”

Her only response was a strangled cry and a jut of her hips. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and with the other hand he reached between them to find her clit, hard and slick with her juices. His fingers rubbed across it, and she swore loudly, bucking against him as he flicked the swollen nub.

Belle was about to lose all control, his fingers almost bruising everywhere they touched, his cock bottoming out inside her. She gripped the back of his neck, her blunt nails digging in, and she thought about what she used to do his back when they were like this, the sting of his hand on her ass, and how they left each other with marks for days.

She came hard and fast on his cock, her shout of pleasure cut off as her breath left her, liquid dripping down her legs as he pulsed inside her. Her head fell against his chest, and she swallowed hard between pants.

None of this was right.

Fuck.

She’d done it again, and suddenly the pleasure that had been coursing through her made her feel sick. Her stomach dropped and she pushed against him, forcing him to let her down. She tried to breathe slowly through her nose, in and out. This was how it had happened before, this was how she’d gotten pregnant and made everything fall apart. They fought and they fucked and they broke.

“Belle, don’t do this -” He bent to pull up his jeans, and then reached for her.

“No,” she said, turning away from him.

Weaver caught her arm and yanked her to him. “Stop walking away from me!”

“Let go!” She pulled back, but he refused to give, his fingers digging into her arm until she hissed. “I can’t - I can’t do this Ian.”

He dropped his hand, and stepped back, the disgust on her face a clear enough message. “You’ve already done this. Twice.”

She opened her mouth to try to explain, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. “Don’t bother.”

He stepped passed her, and she whirled around, slapping her palm against his shoulder in anger. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Weaver stopped at the door to the office, and turned slowly. His eyes were dark and hard, and she swallowed.

“Why?” he snapped. “It’s all you’ve ever done to me.”

The door shut behind him, and her eyes closed as she dropped to the floor, her palm catching the sob when it left her throat.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #killing time #fic #my woven beauty fic #lemon fic

[rachelfinder]

War Time Generals

This has been a challenging year. I get it, there’s still more than two months until it ends, but it’s still been a challenging year. First off, I had one cash paying, video edit job--and it was mostly a video edit with lots of website updates for my client. THAT was waaaaaay back in April. Otherwise, all of my other leads have gone poof and the other few proposals I submitted to potential clients were sent back for varying reasons.

Whelp. Then there’s my new baby, Take Your SnapShotz. I have to remember she’s a baby, a little screaming baby who can’t be expected to do anything just yet. We launched in May and she’s five months old. So she’s not really turning any sort of profit yet. She shouldn’t be.

All that noted, I think something else is going on as well. I firmly believe the market is turning. And those who feel it first are the nonprofits and mom’n’pops.

My husband works in nonprofit fundraising and we’ve had a number of conversations about the trends the nonprofit world is seeing in giving from donors, especially among “major donors,” those ones that drop pretty big, consistent gifts. Giving is down. All across the board and not just at his job. Across the nonprofit sector in general. On the mom’n’pops side, sales are down. Despite what seems like it should be making profit, things just aren’t humming. Mom’n’pops often survive by having higher prices than bulk shops, in exchange for better service and higher quality products. If wallets are feeling pinched, consumers will look for ways to cut pennies. They stop shopping at mom’n’pops.

I know other video editors who have had it rough this year too. I have friends with other businesses and they’re saying the same thing, that their sales are down. It’s easy to think the sales problem is just yours, but I genuinely think we’re starting to see cracks in the current financial ecosystem. I remember seeing similar ones among small businesses and nonprofits before the market crashed in ‘08. I didn’t understand what I was seeing and feeling at the time. But looking back, it was the same thing.

Gary Vaynerchuk often talks about how easy it’s been to make money in the last decade. There’s been so many people ready to spend money, listening to the hype of social marketing gurus, following their influencers, and ready to fling cash at anything that looks like it will be a financial hit. His following comments are always along the lines of, “I don’t need people who are just riding the this economic wave of ease. I need war time generals.” It’s easier to be a commander when things are easy. The consequences are not that devastating. Making decisions when people’s lives are on the line, that’s something that’s entirely different. 

I just finished watching Ken Burn’s incredible documentary on the Roosevelts and it struck me just how weighty some of Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s decisions were. In the early days of World War II, in his conversations with Churchill and Stalin, FDR knew that the Allied forces would have to send troops to invade on the western front. He knew the cost would be high and had to prepare American armed forces, supplies and munitions for over FOUR YEARS before D-Day. He knew the invasion was going to cost us greatly. He knew that while they prepared for D-Day, we would lose ground in the Pacific. And he knew we couldn’t defeat Imperial Japan until we defeated Nazi Germany. He knew that thousands and thousands of men and women would lose their lives in the process. He was a War Time General, and considered one so much that when the newspapers listed the names of the men and women who lost their lives in World War II, Roosevelts name was listed after he died in office, before the end of the war with Japan in 1945. He was the only person in the State of New York to be considered a war casualty on continental US soil.

War Time Generals know how to make decisions that will keep things going. They know where to allocate resources. They know the losses and consider the long-term gains to be greater. They know how to make do with what they have and they know how to rally the troops to keep going. I’m trying to figure out how to become a better War Time General. It’s clearly not enough to just be in business anymore. Demands are slowing. The way people value things are changing. If I’m going to pitch video projects and camera rentals, I need to flex with the market...otherwise...well...

With the current state of my business income, it’s easy to feel like I’m bleeding money with no results. It’s even easier to think me and my ideas are not worth paying for. Of all things, the mental game and self-value is the hardest battle. FDR once said, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”

So I’m looking at strategies that will help Renegade Digital Post and Take Your SnapShotz not only survive, but grow through this recession. I need ways that can get me in front of customers and clients creatively, different ways to bring more value to the market, and the determination to hold my ground. 

One of my favorite “mentors,” Sir Richard Branson, made some brilliant and incredibly tough decisions in the market recession of 1987. He came out stronger. Amazon survived the crash of 2008 and introduced the Kindle in 2009--a strategy that put digital books in the hands of consumers for cheaper than print--and gave Amazon a direct billboard in their homes. Recessions obviously can be powerful catalysts if you can navigate the falling debris and still bring value through the chaos.

I need to study more of our War Time Generals and learn from what they did. What strategies can I employ? What ways can I engage customers who say they can’t afford something--and yet still drop $600 on new phones?? What are ways I can still improve the lives of people around me and give them experiences they want to share with others? These are good questions.

#entrepreneurship #bizdev #women entrepreneurs #war time generals

[makerguideme]

@honnleathrose cont. from x

he deserves every single ounce of her VITRIOL.  he looks stricken but does not flinch, meeting her tearful gaze head-on his own hand flexes at the impulse to draw her close, to comfort her, to quell her fears that he doesn’t LOVE her like they’re the monster under her bed and she’s still THREE.  she’s WRONG.  she can’t UNDERSTAND.  the things he’s done, the HORRORS he’s seen -- you can’t put that in a LETTER and hope it is sufficient enough an explanation for distance.  how can he impart to her the SHAME that he felt -- feels -- for the man he was?  if it is a wonder his family BARELY tolerates him now, how will they feel when they learn he begged for the DEATHS of innocents until he was nearly foaming at the mouth?  the things he DID for meredith at the gallows?  not agreeing with them, but too afraid to disobey orders?  he swallows, his tongue thick. 

‘rosalie -- rosie -- there are things....i wanted to....you cannot....’ he swallows and sighs and tries again.  ‘i am sorry.   maker, if there is ANYTHING i regret it is not having a larger presence in your life.  i sent what coin i could from my stipend -- anything that i did not need to make sure you and branson and mia were taken care of.  i should have written more, i should have come home more than the once.  but what i say is TRUE -- you are my SISTER, and i have always been proud of you. i will always BE proud of the young woman you have become.’

#:chat #chat: honnleathrose #honnleathrose

[thephantomcasebook]

Cairo Egypt - 1958

The sound of traffic echoed with the noise of street venders selling their morning products to the first costumers that walked the streets. Their energetic voices echoing loudly down the sandstone and dusty streets. Melons two for one, prayer beads, pictures of the King and Queen for sale, and new prayer mats. The sound of commerce radiated thickly down the muddy Nile as all of Egypt went about it’s day. From the window a beautiful woman with raven hair stuck her head out from the hotel and took in the sights and smells. There was a grin on her face as the old scents tightened and flexed a muscle of memory to the feelings of youth. It was the prelude to mystery, adventure, and danger when she was last here. But now, she felt that there was something missing, or perhaps …

There was something added.

“The place sure has grown since last time we were here …” Sybil Branson turned back, still bent over the window sill.

There was something darkly brooding about George Crawley as he leaned back in his chair. An ancient Persian kinjal of Damascus steel flipped back and forth with expert hand of a famed knife fighter. His eye wasn’t on the Pamuk’s heirloom, but on the far wall. The man looked annoyed by the sounds of the street.

“Damn people …” He growled in annoyance. “making towns everywhere these days.” He shook his head. “And it’s our fault …” He grumped at his constant partner and companion.

There was something unamused in the woman’s face. “Our fault?” She asked.

George scoffed. “Well we chased out the Nazis, didn’t we?” he asked rhetorically. “Hung all the good Jihadis …” The rugged man caught the Persian heirloom as if to make his point “Did it ever occur to you Sybbie, that everything that we’ve done, all the adventures, battles, and duels we fought in the last thirty years has been a mistake?” the man put his feet down from their bed. “Hell, we killed off most of the people who made this world interesting in the first place.” Her shook his head.

The woman just grinned. “George, nobody wants the Nazis back … or the Arab extremists, either.” There was something playful in her lilted voice.

“Well I might consider it …” He snarked broodingly.

“Aren’t we a little too old to be fighting Nazis all over again?” She pointed out.

“What’s old? We kicked the Egyptians, Jordanians, and the Iraqis asses five years ago, and hell that was with an outnumbered IDF.”

The raven-haired woman just smiled and shook her head. “I know what this is …” She announced. “You’re just mad, because, we went to the Cairo Museum and they didn’t know who you were.” She said with a knowing look.

“Didn’t know who ‘we’ were.” George corrected. “I mean, we’re the reason that they have half the stuff they do in the first place, not to mention all the items we protected and retrieved from a number of villains!” He argued.

“Ugh, you sound just like mama sometimes.”

“I do not …”

“Why wouldn’t they remember us, George?” The woman shrugged. “We haven’t been around here in years.” She added.

“No, they forgot us, because, we never got killed.” He replied.

The woman sighed. “That is a terrible thing to say, George Crawley.” She chastised.

“No, it isn’t …” He argued. “If some 1,000 Fedayeen had cornered us in some Crusader Fortress ruins and wiped us out, like the Vietnamese just did to the French, people would’ve remembered us for sure. Hell, Johnny Horton would be writing us a ballad right now.” He scoffed.  

There was a look of contrarian dismissal on Sybbie’s beautiful features. “There isn’t any 1,000 Fedayeen, in one month, in the whole world, you know that.” The female soldier and adventurer chastised her partner.

“That’s not the point!” George snapped.

“What is it then?” She asked in exasperation.

“I don’t know …” he sighed grouchily.

There was a glower on her face. “Enjoy retirement, George …” She commanded.

“You enjoy retirement …” He served her words back at her with a huff.

“I will for the both of us.” She looked at her curmudgeon lovingly.

#Downton Abbey #George Crawley #Sybbie Branson #Screwing around #Taken from Lonesome Dove #very mild-incest ... sort of? #platonic life partners

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Venus enters Gemini

April 24 - May 19, 2018

The traditional Gemini flower is the rose. This here Gemini (albeit one with a Taurus Venus) prefers its scent to all others, even to the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies:

Venus is the esoteric ruler of the sign Gemini. Considering that one of the sign’s earliest depictions was a woman and a man in an embrace, that’s easy to understand. This transit therefore brings us opportunities to “up our Venus game,” so to speak. Alan Oken (Soul-Centered Astrology, p 280) wrote:

In the life of a fully Soul-centered being, Venus in this position gives one the understanding of the spiritual purpose behind any relationship. On the personality level, Venus in Gemini frequently indicates two diametrically opposed relationships simultaneously occurring in a person’s life. He is often caught in a difficult duality: “How can I have both? Which one do I choose?” The Higher Mind will always choose BOTH, and then blend them into a harmonious THIRD, capable of increased creative activity and love. This is the secret of synthesis, and synthesis is the Soul’s process of growth.

Venus through Gemini can take a profligate turn and fling her hard-earned cash at everything which catches her fancy, especially if she’s turned loose in a bookstore. Finding worth and value via the printed page is certainly a Venus/Gemini trait. Too often this placement is simply bored, though, and has learned that spending money is interesting - for a while. If we’re too tempted to spend, we should try to be very strict with ourselves and enforce a 24- or 48-hour delay before actually making the purchase. If by that time, we still want it, it’s probably okay to go ahead.

Venus/Gemini doesn’t usually have the patience to sit through extended beauty treatments. She’s going to make changes to her appearance more out of (again) boredom than anything else, which can lead to much regret after the mood passes but she still has a crew cut. Bear in mind that the boredom isn’t going to be cured by superficial means,  and try to limit the drastic changes to something easily correctable, like toenail polish.

Our creativity is channeled into storytelling directions, into mixing media and doing at least two things at once. We take great delight in flexing our vocabularies to create clever and dazzling verbal pyrotechnics. Not a lot of depth, true, but life doesn’t have to be heavy and significant all the damned time.

And relationships, yes, true love romance…. This placement has a reputation for flirtation, but you know, I have a family member with a Gemini Venus (in the 5th House no less!) who has never been in any relationship at all. It may be commitment-phobia (which all mutable signs like Gemini are susceptible to), but it seems more like a complete distaste for the whole thing.

During this transit we may think (Gemini) that being in a relationship is a great idea, and our need for companionship is strong. Someone to bounce the ever-flowing ideas off of, you know. When push comes to shove, however, we’d rather stay free. Expect chatty dates, doing whatever little spontaneous things in the neighborhood. Established couples want to communicate more; they may take little day trips, together or separately, and then share observations.

Something unique for most of 2018, for planets transiting through Gemini, is that there won’t be a ton of major aspects from other planets. The ones we can expect are to/from Chiron and Neptune. This can be a good thing, as major aspects from the heavy hitters (Saturn, Uranus, Pluto) can rattle the Geminian nerves into a cacophonic shambles. Aspects from Chiron and Neptune aren’t necessarily going to have such obvious effects, but that doesn’t diminish the potential for catastrophe. The potential for doing whatever it takes to distract and numb ourselves is strong; we can with a little effort, though, achieve that necessary synthesis.

Celebrities with Venus in Gemini:

Liam Neeson, Trent Reznor, Kendrick Lamar, Margot Robbie, Richard Branson, Franz Kafka, Ringo Starr, Henry VIII of England (ROFL!), Malcolm X, Chris Pratt, Tina Fey, Joan Rivers, Charlie Hunnam, Bette Davis, Immanuel Kant, John Cusack, Helen Mirren, Edie Sedgwick, Blake Shelton, Albrecht Durer, Helen Hunt, Gregory Peck, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Isabella Rossellini, Emma Thompson

Tuesday, April 24, Chiron/Aries sextile Venus/Gemini, 0:24

This is almost the first “thing” to happen to Chiron after dipping its toe into Aries, as well as for the Venus/Gemini ingress. Some exciting new “love”? Not necessarily a person - it could be an idea, a song, a poem, a lip gloss. I would hesitate to think that the intrigue will have any staying power, though, given that Chiron scoots back into Pisces this September. Whatever “it” is, the timing is off. (Unless you want “temporary” of course!)

Planets/Points affected lie between 00:00 and 1:24 of the yang signs Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius; placements between 00:00 and 1:24 of Scorpio receive a transiting yod, signifying the need for adjustments; placements between 00:00 and 1:24 of Taurus receive a transiting double semi-sextile, introducing an element of good timing.

Thursday, May 3, North Node/Leo sextile Venus/Gemini, 10:25;  South Node/Aquarius trine Venus/Gemini, 10:25; Ceres/Leo sextile Venus/Gemini, 11:15

 A pleasant time with the kids and/or the parents, as a general interpretation for these inoffensive aspects. Although it’s a weekday, and we therefore most likely can’t ditch school/work to do something fun with our loved ones, we can at least help each other through the day with affection and warmth. Make the effort to connect.

Planets/Points affected lie between 9:25 and 12:15 of the yang signs Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius; placements between 9:25 and 12:15 of Capricorn receive a transiting yod, signifying the need for adjustments; placements between 9:25 and 12:15 of Cancer receive a transiting double semi-sextile, introducing an element of good timing.

Monday, May 7, Neptune/Pisces square Venus/Gemini, 16:01

Too many choices, I think; remember that the Piscean fish are swimming skew to each other, and that the Gemini twins don’t know which one to follow - or maybe they should strike off in altogether different directions? Maintaining emotional distance, even temporary emotional distance, could be crucial to getting through this without becoming hopelessly confused. Artist-types have some trouble manifesting their inspirations.

Planets/Points affected lie between 15:01 and 17:01 of the mutable signs Gemini*, Virgo*, Sagittarius*, and Pisces*; and between 0:01 and 2:01 of the fixed signs Taurus*, Leo*, Scorpio*, and Aquarius*.

Monday, May 14, Eris/Aries sextile Venus/Gemini, 23:44

Gemini is notorious for preferring a variety of anything, and with Venus/Gemini sextile the TNO of “the Other” we’re all pretty much “Vive la difference!” We might even go a little overboard with our, ah, extremely eager cultural appreciation. If we can avoid “cultural appropriation” and mind our manners, we might actually learn something fun.

Planets/Points affected lie between 22:44 and 24:44 of the yang signs Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius; placements between 22:44 and 24:44 of Scorpio receive a transiting yod, signifying the need for adjustments; placements between 22:44 and 24:44 of Taurus receive a transiting double semi-sextile, introducing an element of good timing.

Thursday, May 17, Pallas/Gemini conjunct Venus/Gemini, 27:41

This is splendid for artists of all types. In fact, the Moon is in Gemini now, too, making it profoundly fertile for the hatching of creative and/or womanly ideas. Audiences are appreciative and responsive. Another way this may manifest is via mother-daughter relations. (Or, nurturer-nurturee.) We might not always perfectly  understand love, but today at least we can articulate it to some extent.

Planets/Points affected lie between 26:41 and 28:41 of all signs, and between 11:41 and 13:41 of the fixed signs Taurus*, Leo*, Scorpio*, and Aquarius*.

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#Astrology #Transiting Venus enters Gemini #Ms M astrologer

[whereareroo]

BOYS WILL BE BOYS

WF THOUGHTS (7/9/21).

Happy Friday!

Have you ever crossed the "Karman Line"? If you don't know, you better find out quick. By Sunday night, everybody will be talking about the Karman Line. I don't want you to be a laughing-stock.

Even though they sound similar, the Karman Line has nothing to do with the Hymen Line. This weekend, however, the Karman Line discussions will involve a contest between two penises.

You've probably heard about the two male contestants. Richard Branson is the 70 year old business mogul who founded the Virgin Group. You've probably heard about two of the subsidiary companies, Virgin Records and Virgin Atlantic airline. (Yes, Branson seems to have a virgin fixation.) The other guy is the man who created Amazon (which owns Whole Foods, Ring, and many other companies.) His name is Jeff Bezos. Bezos also owns the Washington Post newspaper. Bezos is 57 years old. There are no young contestants in this game.

Apparently unfulfilled with their early endeavors, Branson and Bezos are both fascinated by space flight. They've both started space companies that plan to offer passenger flights into space.

On June 7th, Bezos announced that his first passenger flight will be on July 20th. That wasn't the big announcement. The big announcement is that Bezos will be aboard as one of the six passengers. Bezos picked July 20th because it is the 52nd anniversary of Apollo 11 landing on the moon.

In an obvious attempt to show that his penis is bigger, on July 1st Branson announced that he'll be on board when his spacecraft does its fourth test flight on July 11th. Yes, Branson will launch nine days before Bezos. He will launch this Sunday.

The Branson flight will be the first test flight with a full crew of 4 aboard. In 2014, the launching vehicle exploded during a test and the test pilot was killed.

In response to the upstaging by Branson, Team Bezos immediately flexed its penis. That's where the "Karman Line" enters the "who's penis is bigger" contest.

The Karman Line is the internationally recognized altitude where space begins. It is approximately 62 miles (100 kilometers) above earth's mean sea level. Regular aircraft cannot fly higher than 62 miles because the atmosphere becomes too thin. Only a true spacecraft can fly higher than 62 miles. The Karman Line is named after the scientist, Theodore Karman, who did the mathematical calculations that established the line.

Bezos thinks his penis is bigger because, during an 11 minute flight that is propelled by a rocket, his craft will go slightly higher than the Karman Line (i.e. slightly higher than 62 miles). Branson's flight tops out at 55 miles, and it takes an excruciatingly long 90 minutes because it takes the launch plane 45 minutes to reach the launch altitude of 50,000 feet. Doesn't it sound like Branson could use a little blue pill? Bezos thinks his rocket is more masculine because it's quicker and it pounds through the Karman Line.

Both of these guys are grown men. Both of them are multi-billionaires. Both of them understand the ways of the world, particularly when it comes to science and technology. Nonetheless, they're in the midst of a "who's penis is bigger" contest. Like Peter Pan, they don't want to grow up. I guess boys will be boys. I hope their rockets don't explode prematurely.

Poor ol' Theodore Karman is probably rolling over in his grave. How did a distinguished scientist, a man who was awarded the National Medal of Science by President John F. Kennedy, become the referee in a penis contest? Welcome to the new space race!