#jeopardize

[extremely-moderate]

The battle for democracy is on.

In a world where extreme ideologies threaten to tear apart the very fabric of our society, it’s crucial to stand firm and defend the principles that bind us together. These ideologies, often rooted in intolerance and a refusal to compromise, jeopardize the progress we’ve made towards a more inclusive and equitable world. But fear not, for there is a way to fight back.

The key is education. Knowledge is power, and by arming ourselves with facts, we can dismantle the false narratives that extreme ideologies thrive on. Engage in conversations, challenge misinformation, and promote critical thinking. Encourage others to question, to seek truth, and to understand the value of diverse perspectives.

Next, build bridges. It’s easy to dismiss those who hold opposing views, but real change comes from dialogue. Listen actively, empathize, and find common ground. By fostering understanding, we can create a society where compromise is not seen as weakness, but as strength.

Finally, take action. Support leaders and policies that champion inclusivity and equality. Vote, protest, and use your voice to advocate for change. Remember, democracy is not a spectator sport. It requires participation, vigilance, and courage.

In the face of extremism, we must stand united. Together, we can defend against ideologies that threaten our shared future. The fight is not easy, but it is necessary. And with determination and hope, we will prevail.

[so-true-overdue]

The Perilous Illusion of Effective Altruism

In the grand theater of human benevolence, effective altruism has taken center stage, masquerading as the paragon of philanthropic virtue. Yet, beneath its glossy veneer lies a self-serving, authoritarian, and overly simplistic ideology that jeopardizes the very essence of altruism.

The Self-Serving Savior Complex

Effective altruism, with its ostentatious claims of maximizing good, often serves as a convenient cloak for self-aggrandizement. Proponents of this movement, armed with spreadsheets and algorithms, purport to quantify compassion, as if empathy could be distilled into a mere equation. This reductionist approach allows its adherents to bask in the glow of their own perceived magnanimity, while conveniently sidestepping the messy, unquantifiable realities of human suffering.

Authoritarian Altruism: The Benevolent Dictatorship

At its core, effective altruism harbors an authoritarian undercurrent, dictating which causes are worthy of attention and which are not. By prioritizing certain issues over others, it imposes a hierarchy of suffering, as if the plight of one group is inherently more deserving than another. This paternalistic approach undermines the autonomy of individuals and communities, stripping them of their agency in determining their own needs and priorities.

The Fallacy of Oversimplification

In its quest for efficiency, effective altruism often falls prey to the fallacy of oversimplification. By reducing complex social issues to a series of cost-benefit analyses, it ignores the intricate web of factors that contribute to human suffering. This myopic perspective fails to account for the systemic and structural causes of inequality, instead offering superficial solutions that merely scratch the surface of deeper, more entrenched problems.

A Call for Genuine Compassion

Rather than succumbing to the seductive allure of effective altruism, we must embrace a more nuanced and empathetic approach to philanthropy. Genuine compassion requires us to engage with the complexities of human suffering, to listen to the voices of those affected, and to empower communities to drive their own change. By fostering genuine partnerships and supporting grassroots initiatives, we can create a more equitable and just world.

Conclusion: Beyond the Illusion

In the final analysis, effective altruism, with its self-serving, authoritarian, and overly simplistic ethos, fails to deliver on its promise of maximizing good. By embracing a more holistic and empathetic approach to philanthropy, we can transcend the illusion of effective altruism and work towards a future where compassion is not quantified, but felt.

[weird-things-to-think]

Ah, the mostest confusifying word, “jeopardize.” It is like a mystical unicorn of vocabulistics, prancing through the meadows of our cerebellum with its enigmatic aura. But fear not, dear reader, for I shall elucidate this conundrum with my 10% knowledge and 90% misspelling prowess.

Jeopardize, in its mostest basic form, is like when you put your favoritist thingamajig in a situation of perilousness. Imagine you have a precious, one-of-a-kind, limited-edition, autographed-by-a-celebrity rubber ducky. Now, if you decide to take this ducky on a white-water rafting adventure, you are, in essence, jeopardizing it. You are placing it in a precariousness that could lead to its untimely demise or, at the very least, a soggy situation.

In the grand tapestry of linguistics, jeopardize is derived from the ancient, mystical tongue of Old French, “jeu parti,” which means “divided game.” It’s like when you play a game of chess with a squirrel, and the squirrel is winning, but you decide to make a risky move that could either lead to your victory or the squirrel’s triumphant acorn dance. You are, in that moment, jeopardizing your chances of winning.

So, in summation, to jeopardize is to engage in an act of potential calamity, to flirt with the abyss of uncertainty, to dance on the precipice of disaster with reckless abandon. It is a word that encapsulates the very essence of living life on the edge, like a daredevil in a tutu, balancing on a tightrope made of spaghetti.

And there you have it, the mostest comprehensive, albeit slightly befuddling, explanation of the word “jeopardize.” Use it wisely, or you might just find yourself in a pickle of your own making.

[ixnai]

Bias in AI is not a bug; it’s a feature. This assertion may seem counterintuitive, but it is rooted in the very architecture of machine learning systems. Bias emerges from the data that trains these systems, reflecting the imperfections and prejudices inherent in human society. As AI systems ingest vast datasets, they inevitably absorb the biases embedded within them, much like a sponge soaking up water.

Machine learning models, particularly those based on neural networks, function by identifying patterns and correlations within data. These models are essentially complex mathematical functions, optimized to minimize error in prediction tasks. However, the data they are fed is not a pristine reflection of reality. It is a curated subset, often skewed by historical inequities and systemic biases. The model, in its quest for accuracy, inadvertently amplifies these biases, embedding them into its decision-making processes.

Consider the analogy of a sculptor chiseling a statue from a block of marble. The sculptor’s tools and techniques shape the final form, but the quality and characteristics of the marble itself impose limitations and influence the outcome. Similarly, AI models are sculpted by algorithms, but the data—the marble—dictates the contours of bias.

To mitigate these pitfalls, one must adopt a multifaceted approach. First, data curation must be rigorous, ensuring diversity and representativeness. This involves not only expanding datasets but also critically examining the sources and contexts from which data is derived. Techniques such as re-sampling, re-weighting, and synthetic data generation can help balance skewed datasets.

Second, algorithmic transparency is crucial. Understanding the inner workings of AI models, through techniques like model interpretability and explainability, allows for the identification and correction of biased decision pathways. Tools such as SHAP (SHapley Additive exPlanations) and LIME (Local Interpretable Model-agnostic Explanations) provide insights into model behavior, highlighting areas where bias may manifest.

Finally, continuous monitoring and feedback loops are essential. AI systems must be subject to ongoing evaluation, with performance metrics that include fairness and equity alongside traditional measures of accuracy. This iterative process ensures that models evolve in response to new data and societal shifts, reducing the risk of perpetuating outdated biases.

In conclusion, bias in AI is an intrinsic feature, not a flaw. It is a reflection of the data and the world from which it is derived. By acknowledging this reality and implementing robust strategies for bias mitigation, we can harness the power of AI while safeguarding against its potential harms. The path forward requires vigilance, transparency, and a commitment to ethical AI development.

[7rlol]

You won’t believe what people say about you. Criticism is everywhere. It’s like a shadow that follows you. But here’s the truth: criticism often reveals more about the critic than the criticized. When someone points a finger, three fingers point back at them.

Critics often project their insecurities onto others. They see flaws in you that they fear in themselves. It’s a mirror reflecting their own doubts. So, when someone criticizes you, remember, it’s not always about you. It’s about them.

Reacting to criticism is tricky. It’s easy to get defensive. But don’t. Stay calm. Listen, but don’t absorb. Acknowledge the comment, but don’t let it sink in. Respond with kindness. It disarms the critic. They expect a fight, but you give them peace.

If the criticism is valid, learn from it. If not, let it go. Don’t feed the troll. They thrive on your reaction. Starve them with silence. Focus on your growth, not their negativity.

In the end, criticism can’t jeopardize your worth. Only you can do that. Stand tall. Be confident. Critics will always talk, but you choose what to hear.

The trolling technique used here is “Projection.” This involves attributing one’s own undesirable feelings or thoughts onto someone else. Critics often project their own insecurities onto others, making it seem like the problem lies with the person they’re criticizing, rather than themselves. By understanding this, you can better navigate and respond to criticism.

[wurds-fur-nurds]

In the realm where choices reside, Where paths of consequence abide, To jeopardize, one must discern, The lessons that we ought to learn, For risk and growth walk side by side.

[churchofnix]

The scientific method is the backbone of innovation. Without it, many everyday items we rely on wouldn’t exist. Take the smartphone in your pocket. It’s a marvel of technology, born from countless experiments and iterations. The scientific method guided its development, ensuring each component—from the screen to the battery—works seamlessly.

Consider antibiotics. These life-saving drugs were discovered through rigorous scientific inquiry. Without the methodical approach of testing and observation, we might still be at the mercy of simple infections. Even the humble light bulb owes its existence to the scientific method. Thomas Edison tested thousands of materials before finding the right filament.

The scientific method is not just a process; it’s a catalyst for progress. It transforms ideas into reality, turning dreams into tangible objects. Without it, our world would be unrecognizable. The next time you use a common item, remember the method that made it possible.

[kick-the-clouds]

Silence is Not Golden

Silence can be dangerous. When we stay quiet in the face of abuses of power, we risk more than just retribution. We risk the very fabric of our society.

The Cost of Silence

History has shown us that silence can lead to dire consequences. During the rise of Nazi Germany, many people chose to remain silent. Fear of retribution kept them from speaking out against the atrocities being committed. This silence allowed the regime to grow stronger and more oppressive. The Holocaust, one of the darkest chapters in human history, was a result of this unchecked power.

Lessons from the Past

The Civil Rights Movement in the United States offers a contrasting example. Brave individuals like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. refused to stay silent. Their voices sparked change and led to significant progress in the fight against racial injustice. Their courage shows us that speaking out can lead to positive change.

Addressing Criticisms

Some may argue that speaking out can lead to personal harm. While this is a valid concern, history teaches us that the cost of silence can be far greater. By staying quiet, we allow abuses of power to continue unchecked, leading to even greater harm in the long run.

What Can We Do?

We must find ways to safely speak out against abuses of power. Support organizations that protect whistleblowers. Use social media to amplify voices that challenge injustice. Educate yourself and others about the importance of speaking up.

Conclusion: A Call to Action

Silence is not an option. We must learn from history and find the courage to speak out against abuses of power. Our voices can make a difference. Let us not jeopardize our future by staying silent today.

[faith-in-democracy]

Jeopardize civility to save democracy. Yes, you read that right. In a world where politeness often masks indifference, it’s time to shake things up. We need to jeopardize the comfort of our echo chambers to truly engage with democracy.

Imagine a dinner party where everyone agrees. Boring, right? Now imagine a lively debate where ideas clash and perspectives shift. That’s the kind of engagement democracy thrives on. Civility is important, but not when it becomes a barrier to real conversation. We must risk discomfort to foster genuine dialogue.

Democracy is not a spectator sport. It demands participation, and sometimes that means stepping out of our comfort zones. It means challenging ideas and being open to having our own challenged. It means jeopardizing the status quo for the sake of progress.

When we jeopardize our comfort, we open the door to understanding. We learn to listen, not just hear. We learn to speak, not just talk. We learn to connect, not just coexist. This is how we build faith in democracy—by actively participating in it.

So, let’s jeopardize civility, not to be rude, but to be real. Let’s embrace the messiness of democracy, the debates, the disagreements, and the discoveries. Let’s jeopardize our comfort to save the heart of democracy. Because in the end, it’s not just about being civil; it’s about being engaged.

[decoding-narcissism]

“Joy is Contagious!”

Imagine a world where every heart is a beacon of joy. Today, I want to talk about the power of joy and how it can transform our lives and the lives of those around us.

Joy is a gift. It’s a spark that lights up the darkest corners of our hearts. When we embrace joy, we become like a lighthouse, guiding others through the storms of life. Joy isn’t just a feeling; it’s a choice. It’s choosing to see the beauty in the mundane, the light in the shadows, and the hope in the despair.

Let me tell you about a woman named Sarah. Sarah was known for her infectious laughter. No matter where she went, she carried joy with her. One day, while waiting in line at the grocery store, she noticed the cashier looked weary. Instead of rushing through, Sarah took a moment to share a kind word and a smile. That simple act of joy lifted the cashier’s spirits, and soon, the entire line was buzzing with warmth and laughter.

Joy spreads like wildfire. It’s a ripple effect that starts with one person and touches everyone around them. When we choose joy, we inspire others to do the same. We create a community of hope and love.

But how do we cultivate joy? It starts with gratitude. When we focus on the blessings in our lives, joy naturally follows. It’s about finding delight in the little things—a warm cup of coffee, a gentle breeze, a child’s laughter. It’s about being present and savoring each moment.

Joy is also about connection. It’s about reaching out to others, sharing our hearts, and building relationships. When we connect with others, we share in their joys and sorrows, and our own joy multiplies.

So, let us be bearers of joy. Let us choose to see the good, to spread kindness, and to lift each other up. In doing so, we create a world where joy is not just a fleeting moment, but a way of life.

Remember, joy is contagious. Let’s start an epidemic of happiness today!

[capitalism-is-a-psychopathy]

Capitalism’s Double-Edged Sword

Capitalism is a wild beast. It promises prosperity but can also gnaw at democracy’s roots. The free market, often hailed as the ultimate economic savior, sometimes acts like a bull in a china shop, smashing democratic values in its rampage for profit.

The Evidence is Clear

History shows us that unchecked capitalism can lead to inequality. When wealth pools at the top, power follows. This concentration of power can drown out the voices of the many, leaving democracy gasping for air. Just look at the influence of mega-corporations in politics. They have the cash to sway decisions, leaving the average voter with little more than a whisper.

But What About Innovation?

Critics might argue that capitalism fuels innovation. True, but at what cost? When profit becomes the sole focus, ethical considerations often take a backseat. This can lead to exploitation and environmental degradation, which, in turn, destabilize societies.

What Can We Do?

We need balance. Regulation can be the leash that tames capitalism’s wild side. By ensuring fair competition and protecting workers’ rights, we can harness the benefits of the free market without sacrificing democratic ideals.

Conclusion: A Call to Action

It’s time to rethink our approach. Let’s advocate for policies that promote equality and protect democracy. After all, a healthy democracy is the best foundation for a thriving economy.

[talk-like-boomhauer]

Title: “Jeopardy in Arlen”

INT. HILL LIVING ROOM - DAY

The scene opens with HANK, PEGGY, BOBBY, and LUANNE sitting in the living room. The TV is on, and the “Jeopardy!” theme song plays. PEGGY is particularly excited, bouncing slightly in her seat.

PEGGY: (clapping) Oh, I just love “Jeopardy!” It’s the only show where I can truly shine!

HANK: (smirking) Peggy, you do know you’re not actually on the show, right?

PEGGY: (confidently) Not yet, Hank. But one day, Alex Trebek will call my name!

BOBBY is munching on a bag of chips, looking intrigued.

BOBBY: Mom, what would your “Jeopardy!” category be?

PEGGY: (without hesitation) “Peggy Hill’s World of Words.” I am, after all, a substitute Spanish teacher.

LUANNE: (cheerfully) I’d pick “Hair Care and Hairspray.” I know all about that!

The TV host announces the categories, and one of them is “Propane and Propane Accessories.” HANK’s eyes light up.

HANK: (excitedly) Now, that’s a category I can get behind!

PEGGY: (teasing) Hank, you can’t answer the questions from the couch.

HANK: (determined) Watch me.

The first question in the category appears: “This is the primary component of propane.” HANK jumps up, pointing at the TV.

HANK: (shouting) What is butane?!

PEGGY, BOBBY, and LUANNE look at him, confused.

PEGGY: (correcting) Hank, it’s “What is propane?”

HANK: (embarrassed) Oh, right. I got too excited.

BOBBY chuckles, and PEGGY pats HANK on the back.

BOBBY: (grinning) Dad, maybe you should stick to grilling.

The next question appears: “This accessory helps control the flow of propane.” HANK is ready to redeem himself.

HANK: (confidently) What is a regulator?

PEGGY nods approvingly, and HANK beams with pride.

LUANNE: (innocently) I thought it was a hose.

Everyone laughs, and the scene ends with PEGGY giving HANK a playful nudge.

PEGGY: (smiling) See, Hank? You’d be great on “Jeopardy!” too.

HANK: (grinning) As long as it’s about propane, Peggy. As long as it’s about propane.

The camera zooms out as the family continues to watch the show, and the “Jeopardy!” theme plays softly in the background.

FADE OUT.

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool ⋆˙⟡

john price x fem!reader summary: “I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.” ↪or the one in which hairy muscle daddy john price asks you to show him your skills disco style tags/warnings: 70s clubbing, body hair is a central theme, scent kink, daddy kink, deepthroating, rough oral (m), cigars, some alcohol, manipulation if you squint,vaginal fingering + sex, a bit of exhibition kink but not really at all (one line), 'little' not used as a size indicator, dom/sub, oral (f), tiny gape mention

“I think he’s interested in you,” Debbie whisper-screams in your ear. It’s hard to hear her over the boom of the drums, over the four on the floor beat and soaring voices. 

“Really?”

“Girl,” she laughs, incredulous. You look over your shoulder and sure enough he’s fixing you with a stare hot enough to burn through steel.

He’s flanked by two others, but you hardly notice them. You’re staring right into the deep V of his open shirt, at the fur peeking out of it, at the pink of his tongue as it swipes his bottom lip under his mustache. Sinful.

The booth he’s sitting in is draped with orange translucent curtains, creating some illusion of privacy. No overhead lights, either, just a soft cave and dark burgundy leather. Perfect for a bear like him.

“Should I go over there?” you whisper-scream back, curling closer to Debbie, “he’s a bonafide stud.”

She laughs, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, “yeah he is, and he’s looking at you, girl.”

You peek again. He’s smiling this time, like someone who knew you’d look twice. Beyond his shirt, his pants are so goddamn tight you can see almost everything. Christ, who let him out of the house looking like that?

“I’m gonna go over,” you say before you can stop yourself.

A saxophone disco beat booms through the club, thrumming right through you down to your toes, which you move to dance your way to him. Debbie laughs behind you, disappearing into the crowd.

Your hips go side to side, your teeth bite your bottom lip, and you fix him with what you hope is a clear message; you’re hot.

He stays exactly where he is. There’s a smugness about him now, the same smugness you saw when you looked twice.

You can’t really blame him for it. Someone that looks like that is bound to expect attention, desire.

God, he’s just your type. A quiet kind of arrogance, one arm slung over the back of the booth as he lifts a cigar up to his mouth and puffs. Lazily, like a big lion that knows he doesn’t have to hunt to get his food.

“Hello, love,” he says slowly when you get close enough. You’re still bouncing to the music, but you lean forward to hear him better.

“Interested in me, are you?” you’re going for a coy, simpering kind of approach. Something about him makes you want to lay it on thick, want to seduce. To preen a little.

His knuckles are dark in the lighting, hairy and tough like he works with his hands, which you catch as he pats the booth beside him. 

You hadn’t even noticed his companions leaving.

“Saw you dancing,” he lifts a glass from the table, dark liquid, his mustache getting wet, “thought you might be interested, too.”

“You thought right,” you slide in beside him, the leather seat cool even through your tight bootcut pants. You tilt your knees towards him, lifting an elbow to match his on the back of the booth.

Reds, yellows, oranges dance on his skin. The occasional sparkle of the disco ball peeks through, but mostly it filters through the orange booth curtains and spreads into an archipelago of little bright spots. This lighting agrees with him, accentuates the best parts, makes them look darker and more defined. You’d feel like a pervert looking down his shirt if he wasn’t also doing the same to you.

“Name’s John, love,” and when you tell him yours he says, “that’s fitting.”

“So, what do you do?” boring, typical– but it’s all you’ve got. You’re surprised you can get words out at all with the drool pooling in your mouth. This close, you can see how his shirt strains where his shoulders move. A little too small, but it’s probably on purpose.

Should be illegal, honestly.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s the kind of guy whose entire face changes when he smiles, who looks disarmingly more approachable that way.

“I’m a producer,” he says, taking a long puff of his cigar, waiting, waiting, “and I scout talent.”

“Talent?” you cross one leg over the other, trilling internally with satisfaction when you see his eyes fall to your thighs.

You know you aren’t being subtle in the least– and you aren’t trying to be. But you won’t say anything outright, not yet, not while the anticipation feels this tasty.

The booth isn’t private, but it is insulated. The music is loud, but not too loud, just enough that it thrums through you, that you can hear him. Anita Ward croons in your ear, encouraging you. He can ring your bell, that’s for sure.

“That’s right,” he puffs again. The smell makes you lightheaded.

“Moviestars, you mean?” you roll your ankle around, watching him watch you, wondering if he likes the polish colour you picked. 

You like that he’s visibly affected; licking his lips, that meaty hand climbing higher up his thigh.

“Something like that, love,” he smiles again, leans back in the booth and launches a counter attack to your leggy flirtations – he spreads those legs, feet pointed out, hunched just so that his belly starts poking out of those sinfully tight pants.

Motherfucker.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are crinkled at you, head tilted forward. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Which movies have you produced?” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him through your lashes, “anything I’ve seen?”

“I hope so,” he hums. His eyes flit down to your feet again, up to your midriff, then back to your eyes– it’s hot, but it’s also not just a flirtation. He’s assessing, “have you seen Swan Lady? The Nun and the Two Vikings?”

You frown, “no, I haven’t heard of either.”

“How about Call of Duty: Servicing the Captain?”

Ah, it clicks. Your eyebrows go up, into your hairline, “you make pornos?”

“Aye, smart girl,” he gruffs.

Pornos, huh. You could laugh– he looks the part. A little sleazy, unabashed. Masculine not to the point of parody but it’s close. The ‘stache is in style, but in combination with everything else is just the cherry on top.

You only have one question, “you don’t star in any?”

“I prefer working behind the scenes,” something about the way he says behind feels filthy.

John tells all. He does scout, finds girls who want to have a good time (like you), and gently (or so he says) nudges them in front of the camera. I can always sniff ‘em out, he says. The ones that’ll do well on film, that have star quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask, lips pulling on your straw. John has ordered you a tequila sunrise.

You can’t help but trace the skin of his neck with your eyes, roving at the bob of his Adam's apple as he explains. Girls who can take the gloves off, so to speak. Says he can tell by the way they move, how free they are with their bodies.

A little dubious, but it’s honestly doing it for you. You wonder what he saw when you danced up to him, if the sway of your body was free, liberated.

Doesn’t take long at all for him to invite you out either way. John puts his hand on your knee and squeezes, gets real close, gruffs that his place is nearby.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” and of course the only answer is yes, please.

Boney M. soars around you as you follow him out, your hand holding his, your fingers stroking the hairs on his knuckles. 

She’s crazy for her daddy!

On the drive over, he keeps that big paw on your thigh, squeezing almost subconsciously. Just the flex of his fingers.

You widen your knees, hoping for that rough palm to slide upwards, glancing at John as he drives one-handed. Not your first rodeo going home with a man from the disco, but it sure is the first time you’ve felt so keyed up about it.

He’s huge, takes up an absurd amount of room in the car, knee knocking into yours. He even drives sexy, so sure and in control.

“You think I could be in one of your movies?” you say, impish, looking to provoke.

John glances at you for just a second too long, too intense. You can tell he’s picturing you in front of the cameras.

“That what you want?”

“Just picturing it,” you simper, shifting your knee to deliberately touch him again. His fingers flex against your thigh again, jaw moving.

The air is warm, breezy, lights passing by like twinkling firebugs. You roll your window down, smiling at the feeling.

“Oh you're picturing it, are you? Is that making you wet, sweetheart?”

Fuck. It certainly is now.

“Only if you can be my co-star.”

“Is that right?” he laughs, low and deep. His hand climbs higher, “‘fraid I’m just the recruiter, but I’ll have to do a quality test.”

“Quality test?”

“Mm,” he hums, “need to make sure you’re ready for the camera, don’t I? You think you’ve got star quality, then prove it.”

Your panties are sticky.

“I can do that,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Can you prove you can show off your star quality for me, sweetheart?” his fingers slide, achingly slow, to the gusset of your pants, “that you can look into that camera and show the world you’re a good girl?”

They press against you, right up against your clit through the fabric. You fight to stay still, to not come across like you’re desperate, but god it’s hard. You ache.

“Mhm,” you breathe, subtly tilting your hips forward as he idly pets your pussy.

“Not an answer,” he says firmly. Butterflies dance in your stomach, the air slowly being siphoned out, leaving you hot and bothered. John is barely affected, it seems, driving still, gliding through the night.

“Sorry,” you swallow, “I can do that, daddy.”

“Much better.”

“Still want to prove it to me, love?” he moves to a glass cabinet, pulling out a little box. It opens with a click, revealing a neat row of thick cigars.

“Yes,” you stand in the middle of his living room, appreciating the atmosphere he’s made; low lighting, oranges, reds everywhere. Brown leather and the heady smell of cigar smoke, of leather polish and an incense-y kind of musk.

He walks back towards you, brand new cigar between his fingers, steps heavy on the carpet. You’re made aware of the height difference when he stands right in front of you, looking down not unkindly.

Your skin prickles at his gaze, the same one from the club; that assessment. Like he’s measuring you, testing you, scanning you.

John leans forward, breath puffing lightly across your face. He smells like his house does, only there’s a bit of whiskey mixed in.

You can’t help but squirm just a little, thighs rubbing together, both to relieve the pulsing ache of your pussy and that it’s impossible to stay composed under that gaze.

“Drop down,” he says finally, “to your knees, sweetheart.”

From your knees, you get a good fucking look at those tight pants– at the bulge in them. The hair on his chest sticks out a little, too, peeking at you from above. Hot. So hot.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, daddy,” you bite your lip again.

“Keep those hands down, alright?” he leans to the side and picks up a cigar lighter, watching you as he lights up.

John stands over you, new cigar lit, plumes of smoke drifting from his fingers. His expression is neutral, though he hums in a pleased way as he strokes the softness of your cheek.

“Take me out,” he commands.

You lean forward with your mouth, unable to resist giving him a good long sniff before you pull at his zipper with your teeth. He smells good, musky and strong, a little cologne there but mostly it’s natural.

When your teeth gently take his briefs, pulling, he cups the back of your head with a big hand and strokes your hair.

“Are you going to take it all, sweetheart? Right down your throat?”

You let his cock flop out of his underwear, heavy. The bush surrounding it makes your mouth water. It looks so good, long and a little curved, bouncing as if it’s teasing you.

You nod finally, hands squeezed into fists in your lap just the way he asked, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Are you going to give daddy’s cock a little kiss first?”

You lean forward, lips pursed, planting a little kiss on the mushroom head of his cock. Though you ache to lick your lips, to taste him, you wait.

“That’s a good little girl,” he murmurs, “open your mouth.”

You do, holding your tongue out.

He grips the base, holding his cock up, tapping your tongue with the head. You almost whine, before he grips your head firmer and holds you still so he can slide the entire length of that monster right to the back of your throat.

Your nose hits his pubic bone, buried in the coarse hairs there, overwhelmed, hands balling into fists.

“That’s right,” he grunts, “hold it right there, sweetheart, show me you’ve got what it takes.”

God, he’s all the way in, a perfect fit. You try to stay still, anchoring yourself to him, to his palm, to the possibility of hearing good girl.

You gag a little, coughing around him, tears burning at your eyes as drool plip plops onto your chest.

Finally, he pulls out, stroking your hair, “good girl, such a good girl. Ready?”

“Yes,” you garble around the heady of his cock, clit swollen and needy, hands pressing hard into your thighs, “please fuck my face, daddy.”

He does, his pistoning, fucking your mouth like it’s a cunt. His hand cradles the back of your head, pushing you, hips moving, grunting when he’s not taking the occasional puff of his cigar.

You throb in your panties, body scorching hot, gagging every so often around the thick meat of John’s cock. Drool falls in viscous strings, tears following, the world dropping away. 

Nothing else but the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth exists, matters.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he pants raggedly.

You have no idea how long he lasts, only that when he’s finished you're an absolute mess. Wet faced and panting.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs. You look up at him through your clumped lashes, mouth open, “did so well for me, hm?”

“Thank you, daddy,” your voice is a little gravelly, but not painful.

John pulls you up with a hand at your bicep, walking you down a hallway off his living room and towards an open door. 

It’s his bedroom– and it’s decorated exactly as you’d imagined it.

The bed is huge, kingsized with a radio inlay and a thick, padded headboard that extends all around the mattress in a kind of cradle. His sheets are silk, dark, and dark orange.

“Nice digs,” you laugh, “you sure you aren’t a pornstar?”

He laughs behind you, setting his lit cigar into the ashtray on the bedside table. He slowly strips out of his clothes, getting totally naked. Then he slides in, and leans back.

“Give me a show, sweetheart.”

You hum, swaying again. You aren’t a pro at this kind of stuff, but it’s fun regardless to pull your shirt up and over your head like you’re a dirty dancer.

“Like this, daddy?”

John hums.

You slowly slide your pants down, turning so he can watch your ass move, kicking them away. You hear the slick sounds of him jerking his cock as you do.

“Should I take my panties off?” you ask, thumbs slipping into the elastic.

“Yes, take them off,” he grunts, “turn around.”

You do, then slowly slip your panties off. He licks his bottom lip again, quick.

“Come here.”

You slide onto the bed, on your knees, then crawl forward until you’re beside him, where he pushes you to lay on your side.

His heavy palm finds the naked skin of your hip, squeezing, “still want to show me your star power, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you’re back in it, eyes half lidded. Your pussy is making a wet spot on your thighs, “I wanna show you.”

He pushes you to your back, slaps your thighs until you open your legs and hold them out. Then he pauses, hand at the junction of your thigh and hip, thumb inching towards your pussy.

“Look how wet you are, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You clench, tilting your hips up. Your clit throbs.

“Ah ah, get back down,” he tuts.

Your ass touches the bed again, hips forced down by sheer willpower. His thumb finally reaches you, pulling aside your pussylip to gaze at your wetness.

It gushes out of you, and you’re sure he can see the way your hole clenches.

“Desperate little cunt, isn't she?” he uses his other hand, two two fingers coming to pull the hood of your clit up and just watch as it jumps needily, “awe, poor thing.”

“Please, daddy,” you could cry, “please, touch me.”

“Touch where, love? Touch this needy little clit?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he abandons holding you open to bring his thumb to your exposed clit, rubbing in circles. You shout, a tremor immediately beginning. It’s too much and not enough at once, electric and icy-hot.

Then he slips those fingers inside you, slow and testing at first, but when he realizes just how wet and soft you are he curls them inside you deeply and oh, fuck, your eyes roll back into your head.

“That’s the spot, that’s it,” he grunts, shaking you, taking you apart.

John only fingers you long enough to let your wetness spill out of you, wetting your thighs, soaking his fingers– until you’re ready for his cock.

“You’re ready,” he lays the length of it against your pussy for a moment, letting your swollen lips hug his length, before he shifts back and nudges the head at your hole, “yeah, you’re ready for it.”

He stuffs you fucking full. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life, thankful for his diligent attention earlier or you might be really feeling the weight of him.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nipples rubbing against his chest hair. It sparks pleasure from your tits right down your cunt, body aflame, hands scratching through the hair at his back.

It’s like fucking a bear, or a werewolf. He’s relentless, too, without mercy. Plows into you hard and long, thrusts measured, never faltering.

John fucks like a pornstar, there’s no doubt about it. He takes up so much space on top of you that without his arms holding him up you worry about being crushed– you crave it, too.

“Good fucking girl,” he snarls, lip curling, mustache going with it, “want to be on camera, do ya? Let me hear you.”

You let loose, mouth open in one long drawn out sound, interposed only by the gasps you let out each time he hits you deep.

You tilt your head back, bearing your throat, taking each heavy thrust and crying out with them, squeezing around him.

“I’m gonna give it all to you, sweetheart, fuck,” he snaps his hips faster now, “and you’re gonna take it all like a star.”

You nod desperately, feeling his pubes each time he thrusts to the hilt, wet with your juices. You’re so fucking close, one breath to your clit and you’d lose your mind.

He straightens, hands going to your hips, tightening, as he snaps one, two, three times and tenses–

His head snaps back, neck bulging with veins as he comes, teeth bared in a growl as he curses, “fuck, good girl, that’s right– good fucking pussy–”

Hot come shoots inside, heating you up further, making you whine with frustration and satisfaction both.

When the taut line of his body relaxes and he pulls out, a flood of come following him, he slides to his stomach and spreads you open with his thumbs.

“Let daddy make it up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs to your pussy, “he’s not usually so selfish.”

John looks down first. Your pussy is swollen, well-fucked, and you can feel a slight gape.

“Poor little pussy,” he murmurs, then seals his mouth over your clit until you fall apart.

“You sure you aren’t a pornstar?” your cheek is pressed to his chest, basking in the furriness, arm and leg thrown over his body.

He laughs, “I’m sure, sweetheart. But I will say–” he pauses to lean down and kiss the corner of your mouth, mustache still damp, “you’ve definitely got star quality.”

[manav-007]

Five astrological factors that are believed to potentially jeopardize a romantic relationship, according to their zodiac signs

According to Astrology, here are five astrological factors often considered in astrology that could potentially pose challenges in a romantic relationship based on the zodiac signs involved:

Opposite Signs (Aries-Libra, Taurus-Scorpio, Gemini-Sagittarius, etc.): Opposite signs are known for their contrasting qualities. While they can attract each other initially due to their differences, these differences can also lead to conflicts if not managed well. For example, Aries may be impulsive and direct, while Libra values balance and diplomacy, potentially causing clashes in communication.

Square Aspects (e.g., Aries-Cancer, Taurus-Leo, Gemini-Virgo, etc.): Square aspects occur when signs are 90 degrees apart in the zodiac wheel, leading to tension and challenges. For instance, Taurus, an earth sign, may find it challenging to understand the fiery and outgoing nature of Leo, potentially causing friction.

Opposing Elements (Fire-Water, Earth-Air): Signs with opposing elements may struggle to find common ground. Fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) are often passionate and impulsive, while water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) tend to be emotional and sensitive. These differences in emotional expression can be a source of conflict.

Incompatible Modalities (Cardinal-Fixed-Mutable): Zodiac signs are categorized into three modalities, and incompatible modalities can lead to issues. For example, a cardinal sign (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) may find it frustrating if they are in a relationship with a fixed sign (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) due to differences in decision-making and adaptability.

Mismatched Elements in Key Positions: In a birth chart, the sun sign is just one element. Mismatched elements in key positions, such as the moon sign (emotions) or rising sign (outer personality), can also create challenges. For instance, if a water sign sun has an air sign moon, they may struggle to balance their emotional needs with their intellectual tendencies.

Jyotishay revolutionizes the field of astrology by offering a user-friendly app and web interface that provides personalized astrological insights. Rooted in the time-honored tradition of Vedic astrology, the platform allows users to generate detailed horoscopes and birth charts, tailored to their unique birth data. With features ranging from daily horoscopes to in-depth career and relationship analyses, Jyotishay empowers individuals to gain a deeper understanding of their lives and make informed decisions. It also fosters a sense of community by connecting users with experienced astrologers, creating a dynamic space for learning and exploration. Jyotishay seamlessly combines ancient wisdom with modern technology, making astrology accessible and insightful for all.

[faultfalha]

At a recent GOP debate, Vivek Ramaswamy had a major gaffe. This could be a big problem for the party now. Ramaswamy is a rising star in the GOP, and his stumble could jeopardize his chances of becoming a major player in the party.

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