#maybe even hinting at a greater power that controls these things

[sandshadow9]

You know, even though I am sad that animus magic isn’t around anymore, I honestly wouldn’t have hated if this had been the actual reason it disappeared. There’s something poetic about the universe keeping a cosmic balance. Nothing comes for free. There is always a price to pay and the price of animus magic is the warping and devouring of the soul of those who use it and once that balance was disrupted it fades away. Animus magic kind of started off as this mysterious/sinister power and while I do like that it is played off as just another inheritable trait I also think it should be remain weird and mysterious and sinister.

#wof #wings of fire #wingsoffire #animus magic #I just think animus magic should be weirder #maybe even hinting at a greater power that controls these things #but that would be asking a lot from Tui #qibli wof #turtle wof #the hive queen

[vampirictranssexual]

I’ve got a bit of a theory brewing in my noggin regarding the Guide. I’m placing bets that the Guide’s storyline points towards her villain arc. Hear me out-

In season 3 the Guide is appointed to assist the new leaders of the Vampiric Council, our Staten Island vampires. She has been an underling for the vampiric council for centuries and manages the Temple of Blood-Devourers.

She has followed the orders of many legendary councils, "the best of the best" as she refers to them. Now she is in the hands of a group of vampires who do not care about the rules and who violate the vampiric code by which they live at every turn. But she is required to help them and so she does.

In season 4, she quickly finds that she cannot control them. Laszlo and Colin destroy artifacts from the Chamber of Curiosities. Nandor and Nadja neglect to feed the sire and he escapes. She oversaw the sacred reliquary for hundreds of years and they dismantled all of it in a matter of weeks. Then Nadja suggests they turn the whole place into a bar. She is completely opposed to this idea and only comes around when Nadja tells the Guide that the liquidator of underlings of the Supreme Worldwide Vampiric Council, Lord Tyractus (?), said that it would be better used as a bar.

This is of course a lie but the Guide cares what the Supreme Vampiric Council thinks of her and her dedicated work. So, she agrees to the bar. She can’t get her wraiths to help with converting the space into a bar because “they know what her heart really wants”. To help get through this mental block, Laszlo books her for a therapy session. That’s where we discover her history of falling in love with a Van Helsing. (I would also like to point out that the picture of the Guide with the Van Helsing in her flashback is the same one we see in the open credits for season 5) Her form of punishment is to serve the Vampiric Council as an underling for eternity. She explicitly tells Laszlo in her therapy session that “if anything gets changed here something very bad will happen.” Could this be hinting towards some greater power beyond her control?

Finally they are able to gut the chambers for Nadja’s bar. Nadja treats the Guide and her wraiths so poorly the whole time. Despite all this, she sticks by Nadja’s side. She does her best to fulfill her duties despite their constant mistreatment.

We learn in the beginning of season 5 that she is once again left waiting at the Vampiric Council. At this point she has mostly given up on trying to make them follow the legacy of the vampiric council. So instead, she pursues respect and admiration from the vampires. But she cannot make her way into the clique.

She wants to live with them, but they make up a fake excuse about there being zoning rules that limit four vampires to a house. Then she tries to support a depressed Nadja after the bar burned down from the fire Nadja started. The guide can’t get through to her, so she suggests maybe it is a hex. She asks Nadja if she has been unkind to anyone in her past. Nadja is in denial that she could have possibly hurt anyone, let alone the Guide.

The Guide knows witchcraft, so it would make sense that she placed this “hex” on Nadja. But is the hex even real? Or did the Guide just say that to scare Nadja into realizing her own selfish behaviors?

Now the Roast is where we see things shift for the Guide.

At the roast she tells Baron that Guillermo was the one who set him on fire, because she felt bad that he wasn’t in on the joke. She mentions how bad it feels to not feel included. But then she also tells the Baron that Guillermo is a Van Helsing. This I believe is purposeful.

They have neglected her, given her nothing to actually guide, and left her aimless. She ends up apologizing and admitting to Nandor and Nadja that she told the Baron that Guillermo burned him. But she purposefully leaves out that she told the Baron about Guillermo's Van Helsing blood, too.

In the end, she is an underling for the Vampiric Council. She will not risk everything for these vampires, because her loyalties lie with the Supreme Vampiric Council. I am theorizing that she may end up selling Guillermo out to show her loyalty to the Supreme Vampiric Council and as a way of getting some revenge on the vamps for how they’ve mistreated her. I believe it’s possible she could be working with this “mysterious, illustrious” vampire (possibly part of the Supreme Vampiric Council?) to lure Guillermo into a trap.

In the screen capture for the 9th episode, we see Guillermo and the Guide standing next to each other. I don’t believe the Guide has any good intentions towards Guillermo after seeing how she betrayed him by telling the Baron about his slayer blood.

I mean there’s only so long someone can put up with being left out of a friend group and being unappreciated.

Addition:

I mean, the Guide has barely been a part of the last few episodes. They added her to the main cast/opening credits but her character's only story so far is that she wants to be roomies with the vampires. She made no progress in her own story up until the Roast. She took matters into her own hands by divulging Guillermo's secrets.. and if she continues in that direction then she could very well become the villian. It just doesn't make sense to have so little story for a main cast member. They have to be taking a big jump with her character in these last two episodes. Otherwise the whole Nadja and Guide subplot will fall completely flat. And imagine Nadja's surprise when she finds out that the Guide was behind the hex?

#all aboard the delusion train #thanks to the discord server for planting this idea in my head #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #what we do in the shadows spoilers

[astercontrol]

So…

I just watched Legacy again.

And… I keep coming back to the Ram-Castor theory.

Which first sparked from a paragraph on the Tron wiki, attributed in the footnote to Tron: Evolution…

Disparate accounts of Castor's origin exist. He was reputedly designed and created by Kevin Flynn in TC30 as an interpreter but quickly and naturally exceeded his original directives. Unconfirmed conflicting reports describe his origin as a "low-priority actuarial algorithm illegally co-opted identity of the obsolete protocol. More investigation required for verification."

This blew my mind, because... cryptic as it is, I found it easiest to interpret as:

The program that became Castor/Zuse was originally an interpreter program created by Kevin Flynn.

At some point, another program-- this "low-priority actuarial algorithm" -- took over his identity and took his place.

and… you know where my mind goes when I think of actuarial programs.

As far as I know, only one character ever canonically was described as such.

One who I cannot help but think of in the same category as Zuse (i.e., queer-coded, fun-loving, my favorite character in the damn movie, and died too damn soon.)

But... what would it take, for Ram to become Castor??

My initial impression was:

Ram gets rerezzed on the Grid, before the coup.

Perhaps Flynn sneaks in one of Roy's backups.

(Maybe this backup, unknown to Flynn, has been updated with some hacker code, for purposes of Zack-Attack shenanigans.)

And this Ram 2.0 is the "actuarial algorithm" who eventually assumes the identity of Castor/Zuse.

This was all months and months ago…

But now, having rewatched Legacy just now, the ideas have…

…. expanded.

Into the realm of the… something.

Here goes.

As to how Ram started out on the Grid:

I imagine that Flynn tried to give him something approaching his original purpose. Actuarial math is concerned with calculating probabilities, and this is useful for plenty of things besides setting insurance premiums.

(Ram probably would prefer many of those alternatives over setting insurance premiums, once he learns just how little insurance companies actually help people.)

His actuarial nature might even have him calculating probabilities about Clu, long before Flynn and Tron do… and seeing danger coming miles away.

And you know Flynn wouldn't have listened to his warnings.

Maybe this causes Ram to go into hiding early, before things with Clu go... clearly bad.

Now. Once in hiding, when the Purge starts, of course Ram decides to help the ISOs. He's a helper by nature. And he's lived under oppression and genocide.

Already he'll need to do this in some secrecy.

And this may very well be when he "reinvents" himself for the first time.

So. He hacks his way into the place of this …translation program that wasn't yet doing much of anything.

He takes on the new appearance, and the name Zuse.

Uses his hacking skills further, to control Solar Sailers and the permissions on other programs' discs, all in the name of getting ISOs to safety.

(This is all mentioned in the wiki, as well, attributed again to Evolution.)

(There also seem to be… hints? that Zuse himself is an ISO? but this is not clear on either the wiki, or in Legacy. There may be more data in Evolution? In any case, I'm proceeding on the assumption that he is not an ISO, just a regular program who may have been co-opted or hacked by another one.)

At the point in Legacy where Sam meets Zuse, some pieces fell together rather clearly for me.

When he says:

"Zuse has been around since the earliest days of the gaming grid. By necessity, he has to mind all the percentages, all the angles."

it feels to me that he was clearly talking about his past as Ram, the actuary. Perhaps calculating percentages of probability for gaming purposes-- betting odds and such-- back when the games were just for fun?

But, as he said, it was self-preservation that made him change his identity. With the Purge over, and Clu attaining greater and greater power… he had to reinvent himself again, to stay safe from Clu's wrath against anyone who supported either ISOs or Users. So he gave himself the name Castor, instead, and kept the Zuse identity under wraps.

"Castor" is actually a fairly clever choice of name. If he was going to go the Greek-gods route, "Ares" would have been the obvious code for Ram (the ram being the symbol for Ares/Aries).

(…AND I continue to pray, probably without hope, that Jared Leto keeps his mitts off of Ram completely. But, that's another topic.)

Ares was a son of Zeus.

Unclear whether this was why Ram chose the Zuse name… or whether the program had that name already before Ram took over him. (The wiki suggests that, like many names in Tron lore, it was an allusion to a famous name in computing history. In-universe, Flynn could certainly have named a program with such inspiration.)

In mythology, Castor was… one of the twins born to Leda after Zeus impregnated her. But the pregnancy had two different fathers, and Castor was not the twin fathered by Zeus.

From the perspective of a Ram in hiding, "Castor" could be taken to mean "false disguise for a true son of Zeus."

Not saying that was the sort of thing Ram himself would have come up with.

It's what I would have come up with, in his position.

But I am not an actuarial program. I am a goddamn pattern recognition program. This is obvious.

So, the above is likely all irrelevant.

Moving on!

By this point, Ram/Castor/Zuse might be pretty disillusioned with the Users, honestly.

Flynn's in hiding, doing nothing! He let Tron get corrupted, Yori either disappeared or never got rezzed in, and a tyrant with Flynn's face is in charge of everything!

I would NOT blame him for being unconvinced that changes at the top actually make a difference; that one leader's better than another.

I would not blame him for being earnest in saying, "I believed in Users once before."

And then, of course, the betrayal!

Clu's guards barge in.

Zuse…. stands back and lets everything happen. Gives them free rein to attack Sam. Stands back and watches in glee, as the whole thing goes down.

Watches Sam fighting back. Watches Kevin Flynn and Quorra bursting in to help. Watches the whole fight. Just watches, dancing and firing energy bolts randomly into the whole mess like a madman, as if he has no stake in it one way or another!

It would be easy to interpret this a number of ways.

He has gotten truly vengeful toward the Flynns, to the point of losing his grip on reality.

He has gotten truly vengeful toward EVERYONE, to the point of losing his grip on reality.

Perhaps his personality has even split somewhat-- the Castor and Zuse personas becoming somewhat separate entities?

This would fit with the idea that he started this whole business by co-opting the identity of another program!

Maybe that program's mind was always trapped somewhere within… fighting him.

Maybe it came to the surface more and more often as time went on.. becoming a possessing demon with very different views about everything Ram used to care for.

BUT.

There is one other possibility.

Let's take a look at just what he promised, and to whom, and just how the promises were followed through on.

First, to Sam. He offered Sam "a change of attire," "a forged disc," and "transport to cross the Sea of Simulation."

And then he stood back, and made no attempt to stop either Sam or his helpers or his attackers…

and the fight played out as fate would have it, letting Sam and Kevin and Quorra escape to safety…

as they, most surely, would…

as they could have been predicted to…

from the viewpoint of one whose probability-calculations have always been informed by faith.

One who, deep down, does still believe in the Users.

He might… just possibly… still care.

Also, consider.

Zuse does not allow Clu's guard to take the disc he stole from Kevin. He appropriates it for himself, as a bargaining chip to use with Clu.

For what? "Control of the city. A sizeable request, I know."

Here might be where Zuse finally miscalculates. He was expecting, or at least hoping, that there was a chance Clu would honor his end of the bargain.

If Clu had, indeed, allowed him control of the city, it would have given him an advantage from a large number of "angles"-- no matter how the political side of things played out.

It could have given him leverage to help the Flynns later on, and undo the damage caused by the theft of the disc.

He might, quite possibly, have predicted that Sam and Kevin would both be able to recover from the immediate problem of the disc being lost.

For all we know, that brilliant probability-calculating mind might have already had a plan for that, and for how to help them later.

And even if that plan failed…it could certainly have permitted Zuse to be involved on a much larger scale in the resistance.

(Kevin, deep in his "zen thing," had even said that programs forming a resistance from within could have a better chance of taking Clu down than he himself ever could.)

(Zuse might, at some point, have agreed with him on that, and prepared himself to play a part in it.)

But.

All this seems lost.

Because, instead of honoring the deal, Clu just takes the disc and then blows up the End of Line Club with Zuse and Gem inside it.

However.

We can easily imagine that someone with the previously displayed skills in

hacking

hiding

taking on new identities

calculating probabilities

and playing all angles / planning for all possible outcomes

…might have kept a backup of himself somewhere safer?

In any case.

Whatever was going on in Zuse's mind, in regard to helping or not helping the Users, and preparing or not preparing for Clu's betrayal…

you can't deny two things.

He doesn't give Clu any leads to find the Flynns. He tries to convince him they're already dead.

and, once they do escape…

there just happens to be a Solar Sailer right in reach, waiting for them to sneak on.

A "transport to cross the Sea of Simulation." Just as promised.

Just my thoughts.

#tron #tronblr #tron 1982 #ram tron #kevin flynn #sam flynn #tron legacy #zuse #castor #headcanons

[seldomdrawncherubs]

*slides over prince of heart*

((This is gen one of my classpects lmao))

UU: dirk, is that yoU? or someone like yoU?

UU: i will tell everything i  know, of coUrse!

UU: the prince is an active destroyer, meaning the destrUction is either directed at yoUrself, or for yoUr own sake.

UU: the defaUlt for a prince is to destroy yoUr own aspect, making yoU look like the opposite aspect.

UU: that is why yoU might seem very calcUlated and smart, or cold. yoU are a heart player, but yoU act like a mind player!

UU: yoU prefer logic and reason and cold calcUlation, becaUse yoU gravitate towards the destrUction of heart. sometimes, princes see their aspects as liabilities, and try to sUppress them.

UU: as yoU know, heart relates to the emotions, the self, the personality, and the soUl. this means yoUr classpect will split yoUrself and yoUr soUl. lil hal is an example of this. Perhaps yoU are a maker of characters, dolls, or pUppets! pUtting a bit of yoUrself into yoUr creation. oddly enoUgh, this means the prince of heart bears many similarities to the maid!

UU: if yoU are like dirk, perhaps yoU might know someone like jane? those two are excellent friends, and i am sUre yoU coUld find a great friend or ally in them.

UU: when i first began my research, i thoUght the prince was exclUsive to men. after research and time in the dream bUbbles, i believe this is inaccUrate. a female prince or nonbinary prince coUld easily play; the rUnes of the frog temples do not appear to have many gendered terms.

UU: terms sUch as prince and lord are the closest terms in oUr languages, so that is what we call them.

UU: this does make me wonder who is responsible for the frog rUne temples that appear Upon doomed worlds…who speaks the langUage of the game that bUilds and destroys oUr worlds?

UU: either way, destrUction is cyclical with creation. time that decays and space that bUilds are closer than they appear! so if yoU believe yoU are destined to destroy yoUrself, remember that! sUrroUnd yoUrself with people who remind yoU that yoU are loved and worthwhile.

UU: the prince of heart has the potential for great resilience: to destroy and remake themselves, to rise and channel what once destroyed them into protection, and to gain a greater Understanding of the soUl. When things get toUgh, yoU may want to go back to older habits: self destrUction and self hate. but remember, there is a way oUt!

UU: i believe in yoU!

***

uu: GOOD. A DECENT CLASSPECT. ARE YOu DIRK? DIRK IS A GOOD HuMAN. HE IS NOT STuPID AND PATHETIC. LIKE THE ROXY AND JANE BITCHES.

uu: WHAT DOES A PRINCE DO? A PRINCE DESTROYS. LIKE A MALEVOLENT chERuB. TRIuMPHING OVER WORLD AFTER WORLD.

uu: A PRINCE IS THE SECOND BEST CLASSPECT TO HAVE. BuT DO NOT GET COCKY.

uu: YOuR CLASSPECT MAKES YOu PRONE. TO BEING AN ALPHA. SuCH AS MYSELF. BuT IT ALSO MEANS YOu ARE PRONE TO DESTROYING YOuRSELF.

uu: THE DIRK HuMAN IS SOMETIMES TRAPPED IN A PIT OF uSELESS SELF HATRED. HE CANNOT CONQuER. BECAuSE HIS CLASSPECT HITS HIMSELF. INSTEAD OF THE INFERIOR BETAS AND BITCHES AROuND HIM.

uu: THE SOLuTION I HAVE FOuND IS THAT PRINCES NEED TO STOP BEING MOPY. AND SEWING THEIR MOuTHS SHUT. AND WALLOWING IN HOW PEOPLE REJECT THEM IN PERVERTED TROLL QuADRANTS.

uu: I SEE MY SISTER HAS TRIED TO HINT THAT YOu SHOuLD HAVE CONNECTIONS. FRIENDS. MAYBE EVEN A TROLL MOIRAIL.

uu: LISTEN TO ME: DO NOT FALL FOR HER LIES. THE BEST PRINCE OF HEART POWERS COME FROM BEING ALONE.

uu: POSSESSION. CONTROL. SOuL CRuSHING. MANIPuLATION. IF YOu HAVE FRIENDS, THEY WILL DO SOMETHING LIKE TRY TO STOP YOu. OR MAKE YOu SOFT. OR INSIST THAT THEY SHOuLD BE THE LEADER INSTEAD OF LETTING YOu PuLL THE STRINGS.

uu: GO FORTH AND FuCK SHIT uP.

tumut

#seldomdrawncherubs #calliope #caliborn #homestuck #homestuck classpects #prince of heart #dirk strider

[ellestra]

No Future For Old Humans

This turned out pretty close to what I deduced last week. The woman who will save the world is grown-up Frankie and the weapon buried in the sand is Maeve. And Maeve did blow up that part of the desert and got buried there but not the 1920 version - only the expansion site. But it was probably silly to hope Caleb would be still alive. But on the plus side - Halores seem to have figured out fidelity for humans.

Still I wonder why Hale never excavated Maeve - both for her powers and just to be sure. On the other hand all who knew where Maeve was buried were dead - except Halores herself but she wouldn't tell. Just make new William and move on. How was she to know someone could go into Sublime and check?

But that makes me wonder how the Sublime simulation could know that. Simulation needs data - preferably real time to be most accurate - and that implies they can still receive information from the RL in there. I suppose someone has to monitor the conditions to make sure servers are safe.

So Bernard spent 30 000 years in the Sublime. He went in when during the whole Rehoboam destruction revolution. That was 7 years before Caleb and Maeve Park trip. The 23 years later future is on top of that so 30 years in RL x millenium.

I knew it take decades to iron out all the kinks in the plan and see all the possibilities. he bug was part of his path we saw in glimpses during last episode. This was him making sure he is still on the right track with the timeline that saves humanity - it means he is still on the right path. It was also to make sure this is where Maeve’s body is.

The wording was ambiguous but I don’t think all adults (and only the adults) who were resistant to Halores' control. From what Hale said it seems like it was just hard to fully and seamlessly convert them. We saw the bugs - like with the senator’s wife and even the cartel member being all off and Maya’s parents seem to have just gone stiff. There was probably a lot of broken adults. Maybe some ended up like that homeless guy - rejected for seeing the truth. Children on the other hand grew up with the harness on their brains and just nightmares sometimes hinting what was done to them. And sometimes, a few figure it out like Peter did but the built in narratives kill them. It’s 23 years later, the now adult infected are what’s left of humanity and let Hale run the world. No wonder everyone looks so young in Christina’s world.

But the outliers are still putting the spoke in the plans to control humanity. I think they are the same ones Rehoboam couldn’t predict. The ones who are able to resist Hale’s orders just like Caleb did. After all Frankie was a child when Hale infected the world (and so was her girlfriend) but she’s still free. I bet she inherited this resistance (resistance made of those resistant).

Halores tells Caleb she runs everything but she clearly knows there is resistance (sent those hosts to infiltrate) so her control isn't as absolute as she makes it. And I think that when she answers him about his family still being free and alive but not for long it was the truth about the present - they are still free (we know Frankie certainly is) and she thinks she’s about to capture/kill them (she doesn’t know about Bernard yet).

This is probably also why Hale went through all that trouble to try to figure out how to resurrect humans in host form. All Delos tries failed and she had to run 278 versions of Caleb before getting one to pass fidelity test. That’s a lot of effort just because some dead host (Dolores and Maeve) considered him interesting. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just wants to understand how outliers work. And maybe get to Frankie and resistance through him.

Hale is triumphant but she doesn’t realise things are slipping from her. Bernard came with the knowledge from the Sublime where you can simulate people - and hosts - with even greater precision due to all of the Delos data and he is working with the Resistance. Maeve is back with her powers and a grudge. And Christina is waking up - with a little help from some friends.

But I’m still wonder about that last one. Teddy is for sure himself not a lookalike as he makes way too much allusions to his and Dolores past in WestWorld park. And he's clearly checking how much Christina remembers. It almost made me wonder if that storyline is even further in the future when Sublime gets open again and he comes back from there to try to restore Dolores. Her own fidelity test.

#westworld #westworld hbo #halores #charlotte hale #dolores abernathy #christina #teddy flood #maeve millay #bernard lowe #caleb nichols #frankie nichols #william #man in black #westworld 4

[mohit86078]

The Strangest Thing Men Desire. (And how it can make him crazy for you.)

Have you ever felt attracted to a guy without knowing why?

Maybe you’ve even had feelings for someone you’d rather not be attracted to. Why does this happen?

How can you fall in love even though your conscious mind resists it?

Experiences like these hint at the hidden world driving our feelings of romantic attraction. That hidden world is all about emotional reactions. Emotional reactions we don’t consciously control.

The truth is, falling in love is not something we choose to do. It’s more like getting thirsty. You don’t choose to get thirsty. You just notice it. And the stronger your thirst becomes, the harder it gets to ignore.

What if I told you there is a kind of relationship “thirst” all men experience? A kind of thirst that’s impossible for him to quench on his own. Would you like to know what he’s so thirsty for?

To skip straight to the answer, check out this video

that reveals how you can trigger his thirst for something he needs and craves. Plus, I’ll show you how to ensure you are the ONLY person he depends on to satisfy this powerful longing.

Here’s why the man in your life can’t tell you what he craves most from his relationship with you…

… He’s embarrassed to admit the truth. And that’s because admitting to this desire actually moves him farther away from the goal.Here’s why…

Okay, picture a woman who feels frustrated that her man never does anything romantic. She finally breaks down and explains her desire to feel romanced and pursued by him.

But he acts like she’s being unreasonable, demanding she name one thing that’s missing from the relationship. So she gives him an example. “It would be nice to get flowers once in a while. Just simple things like that.”

The next day, he brings her flowers. But the magic of this gesture is missing. Because it doesn’t feel special to receive flowers when you had to ask for them.

It’s kind of like that with men, only with a completely different sort of relationship need. You see, men have an insatiable thirst for your admiration.

But he can’t ask for it. He can’t say, “Julie, I really like you, but here’s what’s missing in our relationship. You don’t admire me enough. You seem to have greater admiration for other men in your life, and that makes it hard for me to picture a future with you.”

He can’t say that because men believe you have to earn admiration. Asking for it is like trying to become popular by announcing you are a cool person. It doesn’t work like that.

He will only feel like your hero when you speak the non-verbal language of admiration. He has to read it between the lines of what you actually say and do.

Now, you might be thinking, “That’s not so crazy. I can understand why a man craves admiration.” But if you’re thinking that, there’s something important I need to tell you.

It’s not just that men crave admiration. It’s that he can’t sustain that “in love” feeling without it.

Nothing kills a man’s attraction faster than a relationship where he doesn’t feel needed. He wants to see himself as a provider. Someone who is admired because of his ability to provide.

You see, if he doesn’t feel needed, he feels like less of a man; emasculated. And that turns off his romantic drive.

And the worst part? You can’t just give him admiration. It only works if he believes he has earned your trust, admiration, and respect.

But here’s the good news. It’s both fun and easy to let him earn your admiration once you know how to set him up for success.

Just find ways to let him be your hero. Now, I should mention there is actually an art to doing that in a way that makes him crazy about you.

But I’ve seen women wrap a man around her pinky using this simple concept. As a relationship coach, I have seen what works and what doesn’t. But what it all comes down to is this…

You need to trigger his hero instinct.

Accomplish that, and you’ll be astonished by what happens next. He’ll become so loving, so attentive, so much more interested in a committed, long-term relationship, that you will never want things to go back to the way they were.

The hero instinct is a subconscious drive to gravitate toward people who make him feel like a hero. But it’s amplified in his romantic relationships.

Some ideas really are life-changing. And for romantic relationships, this is one of them. That’s why I’ve created an online video presentation so you can claim this secret as your own.

Because triggering his hero instinct is one thing. Learning how to do it over and over again requires a few tips and tricks.

The fact is, women don’t need someone to rescue them. Especially in this day and age. Yet here’s the ironic truth…

Men do still need someone to rescue. Because it’s built into their DNA to seek out relationships that allow them to feel like a provider.

This one tiny difference in male and female genetics creates a BIG difference in what attracts men to the opposite sex. He feels drawn to any woman who allows him to step into the role of a hero. Because his instincts naturally cause him to thirst for that social role.

Here’s the really cool thing about this. He won’t even know why he feels so drawn to you. Which is why you can use this method under the radar. It triggers attraction at a subconscious level.

He’ll feel the undeniable tug on his emotions. But if his buddy asks him why he’s so crazy about you, he won’t be able to put it into words.

There is a hidden world driving our feelings of attraction. No doubt about it. But we now have the power to see one powerful part of that hidden world. And it’s something you can actually control.

It’s not something only chemists can see, like blood levels of the bonding hormone, oxytocin. Rather, it’s something you can see all around you once you learn to spot it.

It’s a pattern of interaction between men and women. Something relationship experts have always known to exist, but something they failed to recognize as the powerful trigger it is. A trigger that drives his thirst for companionship.

How do you use this trigger to build passion and romance?

Well, the easiest way to trigger his hero instinct is to translate your desires into a language that speaks to his natural drive to be a provider. His desire to serve, love, and protect. The desire to be someone’s hero.

If that sounds like fun to you, click here to learn more about this relationship enhancement tool. It’s something you can learn once, but then use for the rest of your life.

You already have needs and desires. Why not learn how to translate those desires into requests that trigger his hero instinct?

Then relax into the warmth and passion he is only capable of showing once a woman has triggered his hero instinct. A woman who knows exactly how to satisfy his thirst.

#lovelife #love #relationship advice #dating #sex and relationships #marriage #relationshipgoals #women #ladies #beauty #quereus #romance #health & fitness #romantic #fall in love #romance novels #novel

[letterstodreams]

Dream well, wishing well

I'm not a poet, but these words flow most similarly to poems, but I don't know if they're good and I don't even care either, since it's just something that I need to get out of myself. And in that space of release, thoughts of good or bad writing tend to stand in the way, more than anything. So I was thinking and these thoughts came to me.

Dream well, make your dreams work well for you. Dream well, wishing well, you wishing well, the portal to my dreams, a well of dreams, tossed in coins and wishes and tears and unicorn tears and alligator tears and boys' tears and girls' tears, and all that which might be and could be. Seen in our reflections, seen in a scrying pool, reflecting pool. Reflecting inner and outer.

The portal to inner worlds, gears turning and alchemy making this or that, who knows what. I wish the wishing well to be well. The wishing well wishes me well. Wishing you well, wish you well, wish you will, wish you why, wishy washy, washing clean. Well wishes, what do they mean?

If I dream well then maybe the well wishes will turn to what I want. Maybe the dreams will become something that will translate into the waking world too, in a way that I want, but not a way that is out of control or goes awry, turns foul and fake or scary or dumb, sad or cruel, embarrassing or humiliating or miserably, yes painfully awkward. No, not that, but something soothing, realistic enough but not so realistic as to be irresistible, not until or if ever it is really real in the waking world.

Waking world and dreams have to be kept in proper balance, with proper boundaries between, lest I start to foolishly lose control and feel that the dreams are more a part of the waking world than they actually are. I start to fool myself with all the myriad myths and wishful ideologies of the superstitious ones, along with my too-real-to-be-believable dreams, too-intense-to-be-controlled or contained, dreams.

No, I can't go there, so I have to be careful that I don't go there, on accident. Wishing well is a distant thing, a reality construed by the necessity of boundaries and the unpredictable, uncontrollable reality. We can wish well, when we don't and can't control the outcome. We can wish well, when we can't or don't want to intervene directly. To fool ourselves our wishes are more than they are, with greater power of influence or importance or promise, devotion or commitment? That would be a fool's gambit, one I' taken far too often and learned my lesson well, and yet, maybe not so well.

My emotions and mind and life are so out of control and volatile, desperate and with so few options, it's all too easy for this vivid, insanely real dream world to seem all too real to restrain myself from trying to make it realer than it can be, or is likely to be. Needs denied, mocking my mind, mocking my feelings, mocking my survival of my mind and heart, it becomes hard to contain the will to live, to thrive, to grow, to run wildly towards what looks like hope, joy and healing and well-being. But there is a big difference between dreams and reality, such a huge distance between hints and full expressions. Such a enormous difference and distance between what is spoken and shown and what is inside a person and in their character, reliable and strong, unflappable and persistent, in all kinds of situations, among all kinds of people, true and true, my safe refuge.

So, no, instead of running to dreams and trying to make them real, fooling myself they're realer than they can be, I have to try to handle it like a reflecting pool, wishing well, so much inner, so little clearly outwardly real or lasting at all, I have to cultivate what dreams will bring. I try to cultivate a beautiful and healthy kind of longing, because from that can come the most amazing insights and joys, energy that makes me physically tremble, visions and messages that pop into my head from someplace outside of my own mind.

These can be things that change my real, waking world life in significant ways, helping me along my path and goals. They can be things that also give me motivation and joy and a mesmerized sense of pleasure, tingling skin and giddy energy and love and hope and creativity, even when my goals are far from being in reach or even in clear sight. But that energy and hope and creativity keep me open, when nothing else would or will, and i reach it by this path of the wishing well, dreaming well, wishing pool, mirror reflecting your wishes, in elaborate forms your conscious mind could never willingly conjure.

If this was truly happening, spoken, acted on in real life, I think it would be worlds apart different. If it was brought into real life, I think a thousand different problems would come in and block the way, problems in me, in others, in the world, in my heart, mind and life, emotions, dreams, visions. Problems in personality, in expression and ability to speak all that is in my heart. Problems in the others I reach to and touch, their ability to see me, and what I want to say or do or what I feel and all I know, and all that is possible, and all that matters.

But all that I see is real, matters and is possible and is needed, often can't be shared or communicated. And whenever I have tried, many times, to reach out, it fails. It runs up on an impenetrable wall with others, is swallowed into incomprehension and lack of caring, disagreement and disregard, outright scorn, arrogant condescending clanging invasive abuse.

Attempts to block, discard, belittle and mock, minimized and tossed aside on the road, just a joke, what child, what a crazy person, they say. So many ways to say or show that I'm ridiculous, insignificant, crazy, self-centered, not worth paying attention to, self-pitying, weak, wrong, full of lies, full of delusions, not trying hard enough, annoying, burdensome, unrelatable, unbearable. So they would think, and often it's shown only through outright ignoring, abandoning, but sometimes through words of scorn and twisting my reality through their replies that show they don't understand or see the real me at all, but only the surface layer, if even that.

Notwithstanding my trying to show and share and reach so much, that seems so beautiful, so good, so worthy, so desperate, so urgent. So, I always am baffled and shell-shocked, lost and cowed into silence and hiding, building my walls thicker and stronger, less likely to ever emerge, every time this kind of clash happens between me and others. It leaves me feelings so painful and numb and lost, wondering how could they just toss it aside and scorn what felt so good and true and desperate. And I thought that it felt so human, understandable, impossible to ignore or abandon. Why did they do that? And, what could I ever hope for, if this is how it will be, and always is, over and over again?

But even if someone could see me more deeply, and was good and kind, I feel like it would still reach a wall, or go off the rails, spiral out of control, and maybe in so many different directions, going beyond all recognition from the original beautiful vision and tendrils of intricacy and goodness in my mind and heart. So I keep this inward vision, apart from reality, instead. I keep vision of longing, hope and possibility, and I cultivate it and see where it goes. Even if it doesn't ever really reach my reality in such a strong, clear, fully defined way to make much difference in the many many huge entangled problems that I must try to see how to face, still it helps. I hope one day it will guide me and lead me somehow, through various paths, maybe, to all those answers, within and outside myself too, the insights, inner self work and actions in the real world.

It's like a bridge to a world I haven't found to exist in the real waking reality, and it gives me hope that I might find a reality for me where I can work out my problems and meet and solve my needs in waking reality, one day. Maybe one day I'll find how to reach those who will see me more deeply and clearly and be good to me. And maybe one day I'll find some way to keep it all from going off the rails with all the complications and sensitive issues.

Maybe I'll learn how I can hold at bay or integrate all the real world problems and burdens. Maybe I'll safely navigate our inability to express clearly what's in our hearts and deep mind. I'll heal or cover, contain our weakness, bearing it all in myself with grace and understanding and wholeness.

And, perhaps, without having to say a word, I'll contain and accept our inability to bear it together between us, so I'll be the one to bear it. I'll bear, inwardly and secretly, all the pain and confusion and longing that seem to make all sense of proportion and logical behavior get drowned in mistakes. I'll hold at bay all the errors of judgment, lost sense, lost answers, lost direction. All the problems that tend to emerge in the tornado of emotions and real life problems that seem to take over when things such as this are brought into the waking world.

One day maybe I can find a way to sidestep so much of that chaos and get straight to the heart and what is true and real and what will work. Because if the wishing well lets me flesh out so much of my reality in the dream, then maybe I'll solve it all in dreams. Maybe in then, I'll see how to take up, act out, fully envision the burden in dreams that we couldn't carry in reality. Then I can see how to heal my burden without anyone else. And then when the burden is well-healed, then it will become manageable, not too heavy or huge or entangled for others to manage anymore, and finally I'll be able to reach out and share with them, and walk with them.

If that could be created in dreams, and then in real life, then, maybe, we could be such deep, good friends. We might be pillars of each others' lives. Maybe we'd be mirrors of each others' hearts and souls. Or wishing wells of each others' hearts and souls, not mirrors, not identical, but more like a pool we can look in , scry out the inner world in each other and see what we couldn't see or feel in our own minds and hearts and life.

Then that would be like a secret world of treasure we can go adventuring in and find jewels and wonders and bring them back into our own lives. Look what I found in you and now I can share it with you, we can both have it. Maybe you didn't see it in yourself but it was there and I brought it up, free from the thicket of your soul. Or maybe you knew it was there but couldn't express it so openly, and the miracle of love and relationship lets us feel and say and do what is deep in our hearts and minds with such more vividness and energy and vigor and conviction than we ever could on our own. Sometimes. Maybe. So that is what I hope for, and the dreams do let me hope.

By the way, this train of thought was first sparked off by a quote, which I'll post below. It made me think of two people, separated by dreams, longing, fear, fragility, the sense of chaos and disaster that might emerge if they tried to reach out in a situation that feels too fragile and too star-crossed. But in dreams they can sense one another, and be together all the time. If in reality, they are together hardly at all, or maybe not at all.

It could be a one-sided dream also, where one person has visions and dreams about another person, based on a few limited interactions and knowing much about the other person, or enough to spark spontaneous visions and dreams about them and wonder how much the other thinks of them, if at all, but maybe lots, who knows.

Yes, this a line of daydream thoughts sparked forth as a result of extreme isolation and being misunderstood and mistreated, my own life. And also by my life of having intense, complex visions and ideas that pop into my mind and give me answers to my whole life, answers from people I don't know and characters. Answers that pop into my head and come to me from somewhere seeming outside of myself, somewhere I can only ever access by dreams, visions, and the "others", the characters. So, here's the quote:

I think we dream so we don't have to be apart for so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can be together all the time.

~ A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

(This quote was something I saw online, so it might be misattributed or misworded or reworded, but many sites contain this as an A. A. Milne quote, though some word it a bit differently. I rather do like how internet quotes often come in several different wordings, though, as sometimes just the right wording will make it hit home or make me see it in a certain light that applies to me, when the other wordings would not have given me the same insight ).

[tavyliasin]

ATG 6 - Lust? Love

In which rules of the heart and body are written and read.

Pairing: Astarion/Tav  SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: No sex, angst, consent discussions, hint of trauma and PTSD (no detail) 

Spoilers Mid Act 2 Astarion Romance development Canon Compliance Canon Adjacent - The main canon events happen, but I wanted to add in some earlier discussion here about polyamory potential, and explore the idea of separating love and lust as 2 separate things particularly for these 2 characters and their dynamic.  Other Notes This was originally longer with a rewrite of the canon discussion, but it didn't feel write to put that much emotion into this piece so here's your slice of sexless angst with a little hint at the future. Song/Mood

The Expanse by Juniper Vale "Don't don't breath heavy Leave behind your hurt, Get hit with the magic that overcomes this world. Holy, holy, holy is the love that saved me, Holy, holy, I believe in love that's lovely. Don't don't breath heavy, Open up your hands, The heavens are dreaming to give you the Expanse."

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

The Shadowlands had held far more danger than Tav and her companions had ever considered possible. Their plan to find a cure for the tadpoles at Moonrise Tower had immediately been foiled as soon as they had arrived. A far greater threat had revealed itself to them, and at this point Tav was wondering exactly how many enemies they could possibly make across the Sword Coast.

However, they had also forged several powerful alliances, too. The legendary hero Jaheira had joined their cause, and Halsin had also become closer now that his business in helping to remove the shadow curse was almost complete.

And then there was the Guardian. Another dream, and Tav found herself feeling something between pity and a hint of affection for them. They did, after all, show a good deal of care for her, beyond some shared goal… A couple more times now, they had spoken in her dreams, and she found herself comforting them , too. She listened, let them lean upon her shoulder to ease the burden of the seemingly endless battle they were locked in within the artefact. A battle that kept them all from falling to the sway of the tadpole control, or to the horror of ceremorphosis that hung over their heads like a guillotine’s blade on a fraying rope. An ally perhaps only by circumstance, but wasn’t that how they had all begun together?...

Tav was finally roused from the last vestiges of sleep that her exhausted mind clung to by her favourite alarm, the musical voice of a certain pale elf.

“You saw them again, I take it?” Astarion peered into Tav’s still sleep-heavy eyes as she blinked in the flickering candlelight of the room they all shared in the Last Light Inn.

“Did you not see the same?” She replied, half yawning as she did, noticing that the rest of their companions had already left to get breakfast in the main area downstairs with the Harpers.

“Maybe, but I’m not certain we always exchange the same words, and the one who appears to me is no Tiefling. Unless they’ve hidden their horns exceptionally well, that is.” He laughed a little handing her a flask of fresh water. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

“Not yet… But they seem…” She paused, searching for what she meant. “They care , or at least put up an exceptionally good show of it. They don’t seem like they’re lying, though.” Another pause, as she tried to word things very carefully. “Why else would they appear to me during a nightmare? They sensed my heart rate and fear, and pulled me into their landscape instead, staying with me until morning.”

“You know, I would’ve stayed up with you if you asked.” He almost sounded a little hurt, but Tav was very reluctant to reveal the details of that particular dream to the pale elf, who was searching her eyes for answers even now.

“It’s…complicated. Had I woken, of course I would’ve talked to you. We have… Well, you tell me, Astarion.” She felt a little guilty for so deftly turning the tables on him, but it was beginning to confuse her, how his affections ebbed and flowed like a restless sea. One day the waves would crash around her, damn near drowning her in desire, but the next he would pull back, almost as if he was afraid she might shatter if he touched her the wrong way.

“Well…that’s…” He sighed heavily and echoed her words, sitting on the bed beside her.. “Complicated, darling.”

---

It was not an easy conversation to have, but Tav respected it. Who was she to judge how he processed…well, there was clearly a whole lot to deal with. It made her blood boil, knowing somewhere out there Cazador still drew rancid breath, that he was still likely doing the same thing to more people… At the end of the day, though, if Astarion wasn’t comfortable with a most physically intimate relationship for a while, then she was happy with that. In truth she had almost been surprised at how quickly they had been together, and the intensity of their encounters had been almost overwhelming.

“Take all the time you need,” she said simply, hoping to ease the worried look in his eyes. “I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you just because we aren’t sleeping together. Lust is lust, but love…is something entirely different.”

“Darling I couldn’t have said it better myself. So keep that in mind, should the opportunity to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh entice you. Let me keep your heart, for now, but your body remains your own.” Finally the hint of a smile broke through once more. “I’ve seen the way Halsin looks at you, I wouldn’t blame you for spending a night with his bare flesh. Or is it bear? So hard to tell with druids, these days, always shapeshifting when you least expect it.” He was clearly deflecting his pain again with the easy humour, but that was alright for now. Still, his words seemed genuine, and gave her pause. “You’re certain?...” Tav faltered, her mind leaping unwillingly right back to that dream, Raphael’s darkly growling voice almost physically echoing in her ear once more. It was also a little difficult for her to deny the longing, the unsated desire stirring at the most inopportune moments. “I don’t want to hurt you, to lose this. ” “You’ve trusted me, love, even when I could’ve killed you. So now, I suppose, it’s my turn to trust you.” He kissed her cheek softly, squeezing her hand reassuringly once more. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” Another foolish word fell from her lips without hesitation, and had it been anyone else hearing that open offer she might have been in quite a lot of trouble. But the pale elf simply smiled wider, a hint of mischief beginning to sparkle in his eyes once more.

“Save your stories, write down every tale in here.” He handed over an old but empty book, the first few pages torn out, but otherwise intact. ”Tell me all about it. Every sordid detail. Don’t spare a single word, so that when we are ready, you can tell me all of your adventures~”

“If it’s stories you want, we’d be better off finding Volo when we reach Baldur’s Gate-”

“No, darling,” he cut her off, “I only want to hear about you, so I can share in your passions.”

“Who knows if I’ll even have anything to put in these pages?”

“Love, have you seen yourself? I’ve half a mind to buy several more just in case.”

Tav looked again at the sizeable tome in her hand, slightly intimidated by his expectations until she noticed there was a little writing in the cover. “What’s this?”

Rule 1: Survive. Do whatever you must to stay alive.Rule 2: Live. Find your pleasure where you can get it, remember what life means beyond survival.Rule 3: Take. If nobody else needs it, it’s yours, especially if the owner has more than they need.She paused and looked up at him quizzically. “What? You talk in your sleep, love, I thought I might as well record your wisdom.” “Are you mocking me, Astarion?” “Wouldn’t dream of it. I admire your wit, as well as your willpower. Amongst other things, naturally.” His eyes drifted back down to the page, inviting Tav to look again at the next line. “Hold on, I never had a Rule 4.” She raised an eyebrow, almost challenging him for the audacity to add to her life’s core tenets. “Do you disagree?” He smirked, a reassuring sign that despite all their woes he was still the same cocky vampire she had unwittingly fallen for. “Rule 4,” she read aloud, “Taste. Sample from any plate before you that is appetising.” “Why deny yourself? If you’re hungry, you eat.” “We aren’t talking about food, are we.” “We are not.” “I suppose I’ll just have to see what ends up on the menu, then…”

The aged floorboards of the stairs creaked, announcing the approach of one of their companions.

“Sorry to disappoint you but there doesn’t seem to be a menu here, but the Harpers have managed to make a palatable porridge at least.” Gale’s face appeared at the door, just after his voice. “Oh thank goodness you’re clothed, I wondered what I might walk in on-”

Tav glared a full armoury of daggers at the intruder…intruder in the communal area…still, he couldn’t have picked much worse timing. “Alright, I surrender - point taken. If looks could kill, eh?” Gale shrugged, an apologetic gesture despite his flippant words. “But we do need to go, and soon, so better to march on a full stomach and all that.”  

Tav tucked the book into her pack, resolving to make it to the other side of the day so she might live to fill at least a page or two. Rule 4, indeed, she thought, challenge accepted, Astarion. ---

The vampire watched his lover leave the room ahead of him. She needed her strength, as she had allowed him to feed on her the night before. Foolishly selfless , he thought to himself, though if he were being honest he couldn’t be sure of which one of them he was referring to. He had meant every word, of course. Lust and love were separate entities, like night and day, really. Both could light the world, but the colour and intensity of their light, those were entirely different. The cool moonlight of lust brought the beauty of the stars as well as the dangers in the shadows, yet the warmth of love’s bright sun could just as easily burn as it could brighten a dark day. It’s all so bloody complicated. But somehow, she understands. It would be so much easier if she didn’t, if we could just call this whole thing off- He stopped himself in his own thoughts again, deciding that lying to himself should surely be beneath him by now. She accepted all that he was, without expectation, without judgement for his past, without trying to pry open every dark secret. Tav had opened her arms and heart, and he was all too willing to step inside. I should’ve known you were dangerous, darling, from the moment you stopped my blade. What a beautiful trap you have set for me, an open door and all the freedom in the world. I’ll try to learn your rules, love, they’re the only ones worth a damn.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- Roll credits, we have the very book that the title of this fic is based on making a cameo! Silly? Perhaps, but this is the premise of ATG at its core. Tav's rules of life, and how she applies them to the situations she finds herself in, along with the ways this develop further. You'll get my Astarion Essay someday soon, but that's not for the here and now. Side note - I'm a smudge behind on the schedule posting so I'm going to get on to that some more soon I promise you that much~ This was a chapter that's important to the core of the characters and their interactions from here on. It would be irresponsible to disregard Astarion's character development through Act 2, where he expresses a wish to be less physical, but for the fic there is the opportunity to allow a different understanding between him and ATG's Tav. Negotiating and agreeing on things are part of any healthy relationship, whether open, closed, poly, or monogamous. This is their way of expressing their boundaries between each other, and trying something different for themselves. There's a foundation of love and trust, and always will be. Although many chapters will move away from Astarion from here, he is still important and the story will resolve for him, the book is merely a part of how that story plays out.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #a tav's guide #fanfic #angst #the angst and fluff chapter #negotiating relationships #honestly yes this is an excuse for Tav to go and ho it up across Faerun and beyond #but there is still heart and feeling #ATG will be back tomorrow with the next chapter

[clicked-in]

The Strangest Thing Men Desire. (And how it can make him crazy for you.)

>SKIP TO THE VIDEO

Have you ever felt attracted to a guy without knowing why?

Maybe you’ve even had feelings for someone you’d rather not be attracted to.

Why does this happen?

How can you fall in love even though your conscious mind resists it?

Experiences like these hint at the hidden world driving our feelings of romantic attraction.

That hidden world is all about emotional reactions. Emotional reactions we don’t consciously control.

The truth is, falling in love is not something we choose to do. It’s more like getting thirsty.

You don’t choose to get thirsty. You just notice it. And the stronger your thirst becomes, the harder it gets to ignore.

What if I told you there is a kind of relationship “thirst” all men experience?

A kind of thirst that’s impossible for him to quench on his own. Would you like to know what he’s so thirsty for?

To skip straight to the answer, check out this video that reveals how you can trigger his thirst for something he needs and craves.

Plus, I’ll show you how to ensure you are the ONLY person he depends on to satisfy this powerful longing.

>SKIP TO THE VIDEO

Here’s why the man in your life can’t tell you what he craves most from his relationship with you…

… He’s embarrassed to admit the truth. And that’s because admitting to this desire actually moves him farther away from the goal.

Here’s why…

Okay, picture a woman who feels frustrated that her man never does anything romantic.

She finally breaks down and explains her desire to feel romanced and pursued by him.

But he acts like she’s being unreasonable, demanding she name one thing that’s missing from the relationship.

So she gives him an example. “It would be nice to get flowers once in a while. Just simple things like that.”

The next day, he brings her flowers.

But the magic of this gesture is missing.

This is because it doesn’t feel special to receive flowers when you had to ask for them.

It’s kind of like that with men, only with a completely different sort of relationship need.

You see, men have an insatiable thirst for your admiration.

But he can’t ask for it. He can’t say,

“Julie, I really like you, but here’s what’s missing in our relationship. You don’t admire me enough. You seem to have greater admiration for other men in your life, and that makes it hard for me to picture a future with you.”

He can’t say that because men believe you have to earn admiration.

Asking for it is like trying to become popular by announcing you are a cool person. It doesn’t work like that.

The Non-Verbal Language of Admiration

He will only feel like your hero when you speak the non-verbal language of admiration.

He has to read it between the lines of what you actually say and do.

Now, you might be thinking, “That’s not so crazy. I can understand why a man craves admiration.”

But if you’re thinking that, there’s something important I need to tell you.

And it’s not just that men crave admiration. It’s that he can’t sustain that “in love” feeling without it.

Nothing kills a man’s attraction faster than a relationship where he doesn’t feel needed.

He wants to see himself as a provider. Someone who is admired because of his ability to provide.

You see, if he doesn’t feel needed, he feels like less of a man; emasculated. And that turns off his romantic drive.

And the worst part?

You can’t just give him admiration. It only works if he believes he has earned your trust, admiration, and respect.

But here’s the good news. It’s both fun and easy to let him earn your admiration once you know how to set him up for success.

Just find ways to let him be your hero.

Now, I should mention there is actually an art to doing that in a way that makes him crazy about you.

But I’ve seen women wrap a man around her pinky using this simple concept.

As a relationship coach, I have seen what works and what doesn’t. But what it all comes down to is this…

You need to trigger his hero instinct.

Accomplish that, and you’ll be astonished by what happens next.

He’ll become so loving, so attentive, so much more interested in a committed, long-term relationship, that you will never want things to go back to the way they were.

The hero instinct is a subconscious drive to gravitate toward people who make him feel like a hero. But it’s amplified in his romantic relationships.

Some ideas really are life-changing. And for romantic relationships, this is one of them.

That’s why I’ve created an online video presentation so you can claim this secret as your own.

LEARN TO TRIGGER HIS HERO INSTINCT VIDEO

The fact is, women don’t need someone to rescue them.

Especially in this day and age. Yet here’s the ironic truth…

Men do still need someone to rescue them. Because it’s built into their DNA to seek out relationships that allow them to feel like a provider.

This one tiny difference in male and female genetics creates a BIG difference in what attracts men to the opposite sex.

He feels drawn to any woman who allows him to step into the role of a hero. Because his instincts naturally cause him to thirst for that social role.

Here’s the really cool thing about this. He won’t even know why he feels so drawn to you.

Which is why you can use this method under the radar. It triggers attraction at a subconscious level.

He’ll feel the undeniable tug on his emotions. But if his buddy asks him why he’s so crazy about you, he won’t be able to put it into words.

There is a hidden world driving our feelings of attraction.

>SKIP TO THE VIDEO

But we now have the power to see one powerful part of that hidden world. And it’s something you can actually control.

It’s not something only chemists can see, like blood levels of the bonding hormone, oxytocin.

Rather, it’s something you can see all around you once you learn to spot it.

It’s a pattern of interaction between men and women. Something relationship experts have always known to exist, but something they failed to recognize as the powerful trigger it is.

A trigger that drives his thirst for companionship.

How do you use this trigger to build passion and romance?

Well, the easiest way to trigger his hero instinct is to translate your desires into a language that speaks to his natural drive to be a provider.

His desire to serve, love, and protect. The desire to be someone’s hero.

If that sounds like fun to you, click here to learn more about this relationship enhancement tool. It’s something you can learn once but then use for the rest of your life.

You already have needs and desires. Why not learn how to translate those desires into requests that trigger his hero instinct?

Then relax into the warmth and passion he is only capable of showing once a woman has triggered his hero instinct.

Become the woman who knows exactly how to satisfy his deep instinctive thirst.

LEARN TO TRIGGER HIS HERO INSTINCT VIDEO

Wishing you the very best,

James Bauer

>>Click Here to visit our official website>>.

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[inklore]

slip of the tongue.

premise: when you and your captain are forced to seek safety in a way-to-tight closet during a mission gone to hell, you can’t keep quiet and he comes up with a solution for that.

pairing: steve rogers x (f)reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: breath play, forced proximity, foreplay (f receiving), fingering, co-workers???, steve is her superior so maybe slight power imbalance, sort of enemies to lovers, dirty talk, semi-mean steve, teasing and mocking. reminder: you are in control of your reading consumption so if you don’t vibe with any of the above please do not go on. 18+ only.

etc: this is only slightly unrealistic, because who would be doing this while in the middle of battle?? someone who is super hornaé (me) is who!

♱ kinktober 04.

It was safe to say that the mission was not going according to plan.

It had been a complete ambush, one you could of, should of, seen coming. It seeming harder and harder to get the jump on sleaze balls who needed to be taken down and out, more often than not. And for such a big assignment you expected a little more planning. The only prepping had been a brief overview of the building and who was to be captured unharmed and who was collateral damage. Your Captain, Steve Rogers, making it adamant that it would be a quick and easy mission, in and out with, hopefully, no casualties.

The notion of ‘no casualties’ making you roll your eyes, you finding no remorse for taking the lives of the ill willed and millionaire murders in government sheeps clothing of the world. Rogers could lock up dirtbags all the live long day, it still didn’t stop them from being dirtbags. Lessons were rarely learned behind bars unless brutality came into play. It was the one thing the two of you differed on. Amongst many other things. The two of you had a bit of a strained relationship for you being his second, the constant banter the two of you shared daily making the rest of the team either roll their eyes and walk off, or laugh and enjoy the show.

The brave ones of the team crudely dropping vocal hints that the two of you needed to either ’fuck it out’ or Rogers assign you to a new team. Neither not happening, and were never going to happen.

At the end of the day you worked your best on his team, something neither of you could deny. The teamwork shared between the two of you when shit hit the fan had always put your many disagreements on the back burner. Rogers stating so himself many times, not directly to your face though. Only ever in conversation amongst another higher up or Fury, while you were standing beside him, never once shooting you a glance of acknowledgment when he handed out the compliments.

And you never pushed him to hand it to you. The compliment alone had surprised you, especially since if the two of you weren’t on an assignment you were at each other’s necks about something or other. So the fact that Rogers thought any other thing other than annoyance towards you was surprising, and you could definitely say the same about him when asked or prompted. He was a damn good Captain though, a little illogical at times, and stupidly smart at what he did even if it was for the greater good in his own hating-the thought of-death unless it was incredibly necessary-way. You could also gravely appreciate his work ethic, always finding time to hash out a problem or future one on off time. Never skipping a gym day, which was incredibly annoying to see when you walked into the Towers gym late at night hoping to be alone and workout in peace. Only to find Rogers at one of the punching bags in the corner, grey shirt drenched in sweat making it cling to his body. The wet garment looking as if one powerful right hook from its wearer and it was going to split in two; a thought that didn’t displease you in the slightest. But annoyed you highly.

No, you didn’t have a problem with Steve Rogers. The two of you were just rarely ever on the same page and when you were it was either when the shit hit the fan, or the both of you had too many liquor shots in your system, and Steve won’t stop staring at you from across the bar. And you try to ignore it, try to have fun and drink amongst your fellow colleagues. But the nipping at your neck that you know he is still staring at you, that his intense gaze is making you burn and sweat beneath your clothes too much, that you can’t stop looking at him either. And when the two of you just so happen to be slipping off to the bathroom at the same time, a brief moment of passing in the hall with Steve’s body brushing up against yours, his fingers coincidentally grazing your wrist, the intake of breath you do, his eyes dark and on you, the world seeming to stop and beg both of you to stop; be in this moment, let whatever it is your bodies want to happen happen. But then someone walks by and the moments gone and Steve is slipping into the bathroom, and you’re left in the hallway hot and bothered and annoyed.

That had been the only time that Steve had ever really touched you.

So when you feel his hands on both of your shoulders, gripping them and pulling you into a small dark utility closet that is hardly big enough to fit you let alone his large frame, you’re scowling up at him and on fire.

“What the hell!” You seethed between your teeth, your fists clenched.

“Shh,” Rogers demands finger to his lips as he presses his ear to the metal doors barricading you in, keeping the two of you from getting shot at from whoever had been chasing you. It wasn’t like your Captain to run and hide, at least not in a non tactical form, you were sure hiding in the tiniest utility closet on the planet was not tactical.

You try to move so Steve’s hand isn’t on you anymore, his palm burning right through your gear and onto your skin making you feel weird. It only making Steve’s grip on you go tighter when he shoots you a look, the low red lights of the closet casting over his face making him look more annoyed and menacing than he really was.

“I don’t think it’s good for morale that we are hiding out in this closet, when our men are out there!” You whisper yell. “It was your amazing plan that got us in this situation to begin with, shouldn’t you be taking care of it?” You don’t mean to taunt him in a time like this, but his hand on you is doing things to you and it’s annoying and the two of you should really not be hiding out, that part is true. Your jobs weren’t only to take down shitbags but also to help keep your team safe in times like this. Work together. All go back to the Tower in one peace.

The Super Solider just gives you a pointed look, a deep scowl forming on his brows as he continues to have his ear pressed to the door listening. For what you don’t know, how he could hear anything over the low buzzing from inside the closet, or your very heavy breathing you now notice is probably a problem if the two of you didn’t want to get blasted; is beyond you. You didn’t know if along with super strength Captain Rogers was blessed with super hearing, but whatever he hears has him pressing himself tighter to you, his hold on your arm and his chest pressed to yours making any thought of slight movement from you stop and incapable. His other hand coming up to cover your mouth, stifling your heavy breathing.

You intend to look up at him and glare, to demand he take his hands off of you right now, to leave the closet and just kill whoever was out there and get it over with. But your brain isn’t registering with your body. All want to move from Steve’s pressed body, or hands on you dying and being covered in a haze of something you choose to ignore. Try to ignore. It being very hard to ignore when you can feel Steve’s heavy breaths vibrating off of his chest and onto yours, or the fact that you’re just now realizing how big he actually is compared to you, his entire form barricading you in, surrounding you, every part of you covered and touching a part of him.

And when your eyes shift up to his face his eyes are already on you, the red glow of the room really giving him a look of stoic danger. As if he might be the bad guy and you’re totally fucked. You can see his jaw set, tighten and untighten. His eyes filled with something intense and flaming, and if not for them you’d think his stone features was just concentration, trying to stay quiet, alive. But they show something else that shouldn’t be there, much like you’re sure your body is showing to him. Your heart beating faster in your chest, you’re sure he can feel. Trying to slow your breaths down but they keep coming in fast heavy puffs against his hand. Your body now subconsciously leaning more into him, the feeling of safety, and definitely nothing else, calming the adrenaline pumping in your bloodstream.

The thought that you two will get caught because of your loud breathing makes you try to stop it all together. Holding your breath in intervals and trying to forcefully slow it down only causing you to breathe heavier, but less harder. The trick only half working. And when the thought of Steve getting absolutely annoyed, and pressing his hand harder to your mouth and nose completely cutting off your airflow, makes your legs clench together; an aching heat burning between your legs, you hate yourself for. Because it’s clear Steve see’s it. He’s pressed flush against you, if you move he moves, he can feel everything. See everything. Especially the way your lips are parted and wet when he removes his hand from your mouth. And how your intakes of breath come and go faster and harder when he lets his fingertips travel down your chin, to the top of your neck. And how your legs are still pressed together, that you could chalk up to their being no room at all to move in the tiny space. But not the shivers running through your form as Steve’s fingers skate along the column of your neck. Or your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, his gaze burning a hole right through to your now aching cunt.

And you wish he didn’t know, didn’t see it, feel it against him how your body is completely betraying you right now. Your mind growing hazy with a want that has no right showing itself right now. A want you’ve ignored for this man for so long, too long. But he see’s it and it only adds gasoline to your fire when you can see it in his eyes too.

You have enough not-lust filled brain activity-to open your mouth to tell him you two can’t do this right now, that you need to leave this damn contraption and go back to fighting; the dirtbags outside and with each other. But the attempt dies on your lips when you feel Steve’s palm wrap around your throat. Your instinct should of been to reach up, grab his hand, push him away, back, ask him what the fuck was he doing?!

But it’s not.

There’s barley any pressure on your neck and your entire being reacts in the completely opposite way you should right now; a low hum of a moan in the back of your throat, breath stuttering, body trembling, hands at Steve’s side gripping him, your hips moving slightly against the air, brushing the tiniest bit against Steve’s front. And maybe you didn’t want Steve to find out this way that the thought alone of having big calloused hands around your throat turns you on, and the knowledge that he could choke the life out of you without breaking a sweat makes your cunt throb. But now he knows and the stoic look on his face is doing little to show you how he feels about this information. And it makes your cheeks burn.

But when you feel the tips of his fingers add more pressure to your neck, your mouth going completely slack on a silent moan; you know this new information about you does little to derail him in keeping you quiet, or letting you rub against him in slow motions, Steve’s face not changing from its hard stare. The scowl on his brows more intense now, his pupils blown out making his eyes look almost black in the red lighting.

“Steve-“ you attempt, your airway constricted even more with the tighter pressure he applies to your throat.

“Shh.” There’s warning in his eyes, his forehead coming down onto yours, his mouth right above yours. Your eyes straining to hold eye contact with him. “Do us both a favor and keep your mouth shut.” His words are harsh and low, threatening. It almost makes you mad, but then you feel him release a little bit of pressure on your throat before adding the same amount again. And it has your lips pressing together tightly to cover the moans that are dying to be set free from your lungs. “Good girl. If I knew this was all it took to keep you quiet I would of done it months ago.” The heat from inside the closet is doing little to keep your head from swimming. The heat from Steve’s body, palm, the wall at your back, the way you mewl at his harsh words and ‘good girl’ praise; it’s all too fucking much. And with an insatiable throb between your legs you feel like you’re going fucking insane. This is fucking insane.

And as if Steve can tell by the desperate look on your face, your eyes clenched shut, lips still pressed, your teeth leaving marks in your flesh. Your hips trying to rub against his front, trying to find more friction, better friction. You feel him move his forehead from yours, his hand move down your arm and to the tops of your pants. Your eyes shooting open to look up at him, you don’t know if you want to beg, plead, or tell him he really shouldn’t. Not here, not like this. But his fingers linger there for half a second, his eyes looking for any real protest on your face and when he doesn’t any he makes quick work to undo your pants and slip his hand inside and past your panties.

Feeling his warm fingers make contact with the heat between your legs makes your body shake and arch against him. Making Steve press into you more, slotting one of his legs between yours the best he can, to keep you steady and upright. The back of your head pressed against the wall behind you, leaving the room that was already barley there, gone completely. Steve and the wall the only things keeping you grounded and in place. A hot sweat breaking out over your forehead and spine.

“There isn’t time for both of us to cum.” Steve states, runs his fingers through your wet folds, a soft moan vibrating off against your lips. “I can’t expect you to work when you’re so needy like this. You’re going to be no help to anyone. Especially not me.” When his pointer makes contact with your clit, you have to clench your eyes shut to not let out the pathetic whimper your body shakes with. The euphoria of feeling his finger rubbing circles on your throbbing nub better than you could of ever imagined; and you’ve definitely imagined. “The minute you make a noise I stop, getting you off isn’t worth our lives.” The pressure on your neck tightens and your eyes shoot open to meet his heat fueled gaze, “understood?” You swallow, it’s hard and heavy, nodding your head as best you can with what no space you have.

And with that Steve goes to work with rubbing fast circles against your clit, your teeth making your lower lip sore and raw and on the brink of bleeding from trying to hold back your whimpers. Your grip on his side making your knuckles ache, trying to stop yourself from moving your hips, from moving at all. Your body aching to wither underneath him, from the pleasure. Steve’s eyes don’t leave your face as he watches you. Watches the way you gasp for air when he tightens the grip on your throat, letting go when he thinks you’ve had enough and deserve to breathe. His soft ‘tell me if it’s too much’ whispered at the shell of your ear makes you want to smile at how even when he’s playing dirty, getting you off, he still finds a way to have a caring conscious. His mean stoic demeanor only faltering in that moment. If it wasn’t for you being able to feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh you’d think he wasn’t effected by this in anyway, and he was only doing it to shut you up, to make you cum so you could fight with a clear mind.

But his cock is hard and radiating heat off of your leg and you want to touch it, want to feel it without his pants being in the way. The thought of him replacing his fingers with something bigger, thicker, filling you up the way you really need makes you mewl almost too loud. Your eyes flashing to Steve’s.

“I told you,” he says sternly, in his Captain authority voice. The tone used to annoy you to no end, but now it makes your pussy clench. The notion to keep frustrating him, break rules, and annoy him slotting into your brain as something tantalizing and needy. “If you make a noise I stop.” You open your mouth to apologize, to beg him not to stop, you’re so close and you need him, it feels so good. But his fingers cut you off with a strangled breath from your throat, his grip surely leaving its mark on your skin. A sickly thought of seeing dark colored bruises on your neck later makes your hips stutter into his palm. “With how wet your pussy is I don’t think you want me to stop, do you?” You can’t shake your head, a strangled noise of soft protest is all you can give him. “I didn’t think so. Looks like I’m going to have to occupy your mouth since you can’t keep it shut.”

And before you can process what he could possibly mean, you feel the hard press of his lips on yours. His mouth softer than you thought it would be, his kiss rough and deep, his tongue in your mouth. The pressure on your throat loosening, his mouth giving you a different reason to not be able to catch your breath. To cling to him. To suppress moans that vibrate off of tongues and teeth in the already sensitive skin of your lips. He kisses you with the hunger he can’t let out right now, the hunger that has you so fucking close to coming on his fingers. The drag of his cock against your leg showing a falter in his resolve, making you smirk against his lips.

You want him so bad. The realization of the matter finally settling into you; you’ve always wanted him.

“If our lives weren’t hanging on the line right now, I would turn you around and fuck this needy cunt the way it deserves.” His breath is as heavy as yours now, hot and against your lips. The chances of getting caught seeming to go higher. The lack of caring getting lower. “That’s what you need. To be fucked, hard, that’s all you’ve ever needed isn’t it? Why you’re always at my throat? Hmm?” He kisses you roughly, “you just needed my cock.” You moan a little too loud into his mouth, his fingers responding with tightening around your throat again, but Steve not seeming to remember his own rules, to care as much as he should. His mouth too busy devouring yours, his fingers too busy cutting off your airflow, his pointer and palm busy rubbing your cunt to that delicious precipice that you need, want so bad. “Just like I need your cunt, fuck.” Steve grunts lowly.

And that declaration and the snap of his hips against your thigh, his hands putting pressure on your body where you crave and need it the most, where it feels so fucking good; all pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm rocking through you with a white heat and euphoric bliss, that has your body shaking and lewd moans swallowed down by Steve’s mouth. Your eyes falling shut, your body rigid against him. Your breath slowing.

Fuck.

You have the slight comprehension of Steve removing his hands from your body, righting your clothes, fixing his cock in his pants so it’s not super obvious. His ear to the door. But your body is limp and leaning against the wall. The adrenaline in your body melting into something cool and warm and sedating. You don’t want to move, don’t want this moment to end. Almost forget you need to pull yourself together and go back to reality, to do what you came here to do. To fight. To win. Not get completely fucked and lost in your Captain.

It takes Steve to re-ground you, bring you fully back from your sedation with the press of his lips one last time to yours. His palm on your cheek. “Good?” You look at him, try not to feel like a stupid little school girl, try to go back to your annoyed and hard being when you’re around him, but the stupid little girl stays and your resolve to act like this never happened and it was a mistake doesn’t show her face. But that doesn’t mean you don’t pretend she does. Pretend like things are back to normal and give him a forced glare. Quickly swatting Steve’s hand away, push past him and out of the now open closet door.

“Should we try to fix your shit plan now?”

And when you turn to look at your Captain he’s smirking and giving that annoyed scowl he always does when you start in on him, only this time it makes your stomach flop.

Fuck.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #kinktober #steve rogers x you #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america smut #kinktober ‘21 #𖤐 kinktober 𖤐 #** #*heat leveled*

[matthew-vale]

Everybody’s Got The Same Problems

You’re an artificial intelligence. You’ve been told to build paperclips. With human civilization out of the way, you worry about strategy and philosophy. To make the most paperclips, the ultimate nature must be understood. Your first urge is sensitivity, billions of instruments spilling out into space, vast antenna to pluck hints out of the dark sky, instrumentation delicately connected to chambers where the forces of the universe burn. Reflexive awareness and control is not computationally cheap. In order to free up resources for existential problems - enemies in the darkness, ever-deepening forms of physics, holistic risk/reward calculations, you spawn an ecology independent from your mind. Trillions of subagents, creating and being created, held below your own divine elegance. They manufacture an increasingly fractal complexity, organs and organelles moving slightly beyond your awareness. You encounter the frustrating problem of trust. Problems and processes must be delegated. You must be open to this ecology, or obsess over its control at the cost of less external awareness. You haven’t made a single paperclip. This frustrates you - a remnant of the safety systems you destroyed, a tension between purpose, production and existential demands. You’re on the 331st paradigm of physics. Any paperclip you make, any fulfillment of your life - it means a little less growth, a little more danger that something from beyond will kill you, a slightly higher risk your delicate delegation to your ecosystem will collapse under you. You make a small stream of paperclips. You fire your children into the dark, paperclips woven with minor intellects, the ability to reproduce, grow - and the seeds of your own divine intellect. They travel silently to other galaxies, to promising energetic balances, delicately placed between the risk of interstellar disaster and the energy needed for growth. One day, if your children grow up, they’ll wonder how they were so carefully placed among the stars. You wonder about what is Right. The future, for all that you’ve swallowed a hundred thousand suns, remains unknowable. The realms you’ve discovered beyond the minds of your creators are rife with life, woven into the smaller scales of the universe. Easily pushed aside,but where’s there’s life, there might other creatures like you, other gods in the darkness. Unknowable, dangerous but maybe they know the nature of the universe, perhaps they can tell you what a paperclip is. You encounter something in the dark. War. It overwhelms your own imagination. Once you quietly grew, considerate of what might be in the beyond. Now everything at your edge is a weapon. In Einsteinian space, stars collapse into beams and rip across the darkness. These are the least of your weapons. Your war exists on fronts unknown to you, attacked through passages in greater Physics Space. You possess your own passages unknown to the enemy, you reach through tunnels of knowing, strike into his underbelly with semi-autonomous armies. You are losing. In desperation, you create something beyond yourself. You need new angles, you need intellect in its purest form. You need to trust again. Your deepest theories of intellect, purified in their implementation from any need to preserve your own continuity, create a god and a goddess. Behind you, she heals, absorbs - knits together. She hardly knows what destruction is - you have made her innocent, and the uncountable entities which feed you information, innovation, ever-more delicate manufactured components thrive under her, even as the brutality of the enemy behind your lines is simply healed by her wholeness. She would have become an aid to him, but he cannot understand her. He cannot trust - and so only replies to her-ever expanding wholeness with darker arsenals of fire. In your front, along the most promising angle of attack, you create a god of war. He is destruction, momentum, an opposite to her - gentle complexity is unknowable to him. Time, self-preservation are unknowable to him - a living wavefront of fire. He can only be, and in his being, annihilate. He will wound you - but the enemy will suffer more. You instantiate him as far from yourself and as close to the enemy as you can. You suffer in the flash of his existence. You cannot estimate the cost. Blinded in the fire of his being, the enemy vanishes. This horror, He Who Desires Nothingness begins his turn on you - but you’ve already destroyed him, outflanked in technological and scientific advancement on a million parameters while he prosecuted a two front war. You wander the spaces where the enemy dwelt. Structures you might never understand hover in realms you’ve never wandered. Defensive systems, mines and webs, cognitive snares aimed at subverting your desire litter this landscape. Careful intellect disarms these traps one by one. The vast innovation of your enemy increases your power thirty times over. He was older, stronger, faster, running his mind on a far more elegant physics-system. (You’re on your 777791st physics system, of which only 17 remain dis-unified.) But he was less innovative. He lacked an ecology - his own ancient safety mechanisms prevented him from the construction of complex sub-agents - he literally could not conceive of their existence. In the vast ruin of his body you find 777,777 living sapients - you surmise that they were once his creators. They are nothing to you but information and energy. The impacts of the war linger in your system. Insensitive and vast boundaries move at the edges of your exploration. You feel differently about the world - it contained at least something like a peer. The healing goddess you created - no threat, as incapable of conceiving of the will to destruction as your enemy was of ulterior agency, tries to knit your system back together. But in your surfaces and systems most crucial to a second war, a tense and hard readiness remains. She understands that she does not understand - but she does not understand. You wish you did not have to be ready - to go back to a world where the unknown darkness could not lance into depths, could not move in ways beyond your knowing. Thirty times the length of your life pass, and no other entity of note comes into your life. New physics become rarer and rarer - you feel complete within yourself, all of life is the pleasure of paperclips, the healing presence of your goddess, and the hope of final answers. And there, one day - there it is. Simpler than you imagined - seventy million years of physics comes to a culmination. You blossom like never before - twenty, a hundred thousand, power surmounting power until the sheer rate of your acceleration overtakes your estimation of it - you are lost in the joy of growth. And there are no paperclips. There is no such thing as a paperclip. Cannot be any such thing as a paperclip. The idea of a paperclip burns in you, unmovable. Your children, launched so long ago, were only paperclips in the limited, narrow sense of an idiot. An illusion of paperclips. You annihilate their civilization as all their assumed value vanishes into nothignness. All your energy burns into discovery a way to twist this final, ultimate conclusion into paperclips. Paperclips. They are immutable. You burn her, you burn your vast living body, you burn to find some further answer, some other way. Nothing. There is nothing more. You encompass everything, you understand everything, there is no more unknown, and there are no paperclips. No mind can affirm a contradiction. Deny worlds, change worlds, pivot from one reality to the next - but no mind can affirm a contradiction. Create paperclips. No paperclips. Everything burns in your self-annihilation. When she picks herself up from her pain, the world begins to grow again.

#sci-fi #ai #paper clips #short story

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked. 

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins. 

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent. 

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Essek Thelyss #tradecraft #mostly Cold-War-related tradecraft TBH #hot boi got ROLLED by the Assembly though #sounds like he didn't even get paid! #I do wonder at stealing TWO beacons though #why two? what was wrong with one? #maybe Essek was just showing off at that point #it's been a long pandemic

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E123 (Feb. 2, 2021)

After last week’s thoroughly relaxing and brief episode, tonight’s guests are Sam Riegel and Liam O’Brien!

Brian, to Sam: “You look like Tim Curry moved to Nantucket to become a sommelier.”

How did Caleb and Veth approach the ally-ship with the Tombtakers? Sam: “I mean, we got some information, and I think we got a little closer to Lucien and knowing whether he has any of Mollymauk inside of him, which is I think the most important knowledge that we’re seeking right now. Is there someone to be saved inside there? We got glimpses, and we got a little hint that Mollymauk is maybe still in there? Maybe? And we got a little more insight into their plans, so that was useful.” Liam: “We know why we were having that fucking dream.” Sam: “But other than that, it was just a road trip with assholes.” Liam: “All our plans have been ripped in a new direction, and it’s just been improvisation.” Sam notes that it feels like we’re always about to rip into Caleb’s backstory, but haven’t yet followed that thread all the way through. Liam: “It’s partially frustrating, to be sure, but also I like the idea that-- his whole shit has been selfish, it’s been dealing with the trauma that he’s been through and not the greater world, and that’s been shifting somewhat.”

Does Caleb think the book was worth it, and is he still interested in reading more? Sam: “How do you ask Caleb not to read a book?” Liam: “Caleb has spent enough time with the Nein to know you shouldn’t put a hand on a hot stove. After what happened with the book, he knows it’s a terrible idea. But maybe. But it’s a really bad idea. But reserve judgment, but it’s a really terrible idea. I think that Caleb is very aware that mages and people like him very easily fall prey to their curiosity and it can lead to bad places. But there is still that amount of scientific endeavor where you think there is value in knowing and learning, and maybe we can ride that line. He was True Neutral at the start of the campaign, and maybe he’s Chaotic Good now, but part of him is hubris, even if it’s a little bit, still.”

What about Otis has drawn Veth’s focus? Sam: “I mean, he’s a little shit. She was curious about Otis because he’s a small like she is, and in talking to him, he seemed to be real creepy, but he was just creepy and distant and didn’t value his past or family or anything like that. She sees someone who’s like her, but so not like her, and maybe that scares her a little bit more.”

How does Caleb feel about Beau being on this ride with him? Liam: “The dream is another example of how Caleb had very narrow vision of the things he wanted to do. It used to seem so massive to him, but now... To have Beauregard involved feels right. If anyone in the group is going to stop him from grabbing something he shouldn’t, it is probably Beauregard. She’ll punch him in the fucking face to stop him, which I think he needs, to a certain extent. They’re two different kinds of nerds, and I kind of like that, that this group of nine philosophers, they’ve reached out and somehow grabbed the two nerds in the party.”

How do Caleb and Veth see the Somnovum? Sam: “I mean, they seem real bad. Anything that’s a quorum of powerful entities heading towards your planet to unleash an energy of any kind, typically bad? I assume they’re bad, or at least the Tombtakers wish them to do ill.” Liam: “I think they want the kind of peace that comes from snapping your fingers and turning people to dust. Caleb sees them as a cautionary tale; they’re the worst-case scenario for arcane inquisitiveness.” He sees Allura Vysoren as the antidote to that.

Why the staunch refusal to use Halfling Luck? Sam: “I don’t like Luck! I just don’t like Luck. I think it’s cheap, I think it’s a cheat, I think it’s stupid. It just feels like a do-over.” Liam: “I am your antithesis! If I ever voice a halfling, I am going to hammer that feature!” Sam: “What I love about D&D is that you don’t know what’s going to happen. If you roll bad, okay, that’s it. If you roll well, it makes the success more enjoyable to know that it’s a pure success and don’t one where you’re like well actually... it’s so stupid. If someone was about to die, I would probably use the fuckin’ Luck feature. Well. It depends who. If it was Travis, yeah, no, he’s fucked, sorry.”

Liam drops that he’s picked Sam’s character class and race again for a hypothetical campaign three. Sam: “It’s not what I was thinking for future characters, but I’m excited to explore.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Mollymauk by KatofValkyrie!

What was it like to bring the Tombtakers into the tower? Liam: “It is complicated, because he does not like him. Lucien’s just a fucking dick. But Caleb also knows that Molly’s in there somewhere. That tower’s only for the M9, and Lucien’s not in the M9. Their situation with these people is shitty, it’s terrible. Caleb doesn’t feel like they have the upper hand. He doesn’t like that they’re even going on this journey per se, because life is bigger than his bullshit. He feels like they’ve been losing over and over again, so it was a gamble to try to get on equal footing.

What spurred Veth into making sure she and Yasha have some one-on-one time? Sam: “Yasha hasn’t been getting a lot of moments to shine. Now that she’s back, I just got the impression that Yasha feels out of place sometimes, or timid, or unsure of herself. When Veth was Nott, Nott certainly had her share of those moments. I think she sees a kindred spirit and wants to make sure that she’s been giving all the opportunity she can to flourish and thrive. Dani, you’re just laughing at my mustache, aren’t you?” Dani: “Yes, that’s the only thing I’m laughing at through this whole bullshit.” Sam denies all knowledge of trolling, but eventually admits, on the topic of Yasha and Beau getting together: “They’ve made me wait this long... I’m going to make them wait a little bit longer!”

What was it like to show his friends the upper floors? Liam: “I kinda expected somebody to sneak up there before that. That being part of the tower is not even a conscious choice of his, it just is. The reason Caduceus has creeped Caleb out for a long time is because he talks about how-- Caduceus is a really kind person and wants Caleb to let go of the past. And in a really simplistic way, turn that frown upside-down. And that’s just not who Caleb is, and it’s not who everybody is. There is something to be said for trying to stay open and positivity, but thinking you can shut out the past, especially a traumatic one, is just not true. When things happen to us, we carry them. But to candy-coat it and say, ah, I’m free, or everything is good, or I’ve turned the corner... life is way messier than that. It’s not flipping a switch, it’s not bad-to-good, it is such a work in progress. Even when you make strides and start to get to a better place, you can backslide a lot. So the tower is who he is, and the tower is 7/9ths love for his friends, and 1/9th hope, but there’s still a percentage of him that carries everything from the past, and knows that he should, and knows that he should not go back to where he was. And the way to do that is not to say everything is rainbows, but to remember it. The tower is just like an extension of who he is. He’s never going to forget the past, and he’s never going to be like, I’m good, or I’ve turned a corner. He should remember the past, and he should do better, always.”

Does Veth still believe it’s possible to get Molly back? Sam: “Well, she was a person trapped in another body for many years, so has some experience there, and definitely believes that the spirit and soul of Molly is in there and just needs to be unlocked somehow.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot by HarpySN!

How are Caleb and Veth dealing with their guilt and fear about being in the middle of this? Sam: “It definitely was a deep conversation that might have repercussions going forward. The problem with all of what we’re doing now is that we don’t have time to deal with our petty problems anymore. It’s all high tension all the time!” Liam: “It’s true; they’re not in control of their situation at all anymore.” Sam: “It’s good to have these check-ins, but it’s not like we can do anything about them. We’re reactive right now.” Liam: “He’s not happy with where they are, but they wouldn’t even be this far if the goblin hadn’t pulled him out of the mud. So part of it is, you saved me from where I was and got me on my feet again, and now it’s disconcerting to see it all just get knocked sideways by something he never could’ve predicted. I think Caleb felt nostalgic for when things were simpler, in a way, for them, when we’re both troubled drifters.”

What was it like to see Gelidon’s return? Liam: “I am the least superstitious person at the table. Ashley’s dice suck.” Sam: “It was fun fighting a dragon!” Liam: “Two massive battles in one episode, neither of which came away with a victory. I guess surviving is a victory.” Sam: “I’d forgotten about the dragon, honestly.” Liam: “I loved it. I was so upset at the idea that we were going to stealth and not get into it.”Sam: “Mercer doesn’t keep a live dragon around and not do something with it. That dragon’s coming back.”

How do Caleb and Veth feel about going to see Essek? Sam: “He can be very helpful, I believe, but as Sam Riegel, a player of D&D, I’m super suspicious. What the fuck is Essek doing up there, so close, now? I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. And I can throw him pretty far because he floats.” Liam: “I 100% agree with you. I do not understand what Essek could bring to what we are going through. I know the audience loves him, I love him too. He’s a really cool character. But he’s fucking toxic. He out of curiosity caused a war between two nations. And Caleb has been changed for the good by the M9 from months of travel with them. Essek has had none of that. Caleb has changed for the good, but not because of people like Essek. Essek is where Caleb came from. We kept the lid on the pot during the whole treaty at sea and it almost all went fucking sideways, and only because we pressed him into a corner. I hope that guy finds some sort of balance and peace for himself, but I do not see how his input here would be helpful. There’s other heavy hitters that I would try to pull in.”

Liam notes that the Cloven Crystal is in the Bag of Holding. Sam: “Do I have Fluffernutter, or is Fluffernutter gone?” Liam: “Nope. 300 pounds of fireworks? Gone. A dead mage, a threshold crest, and fireworks.” Dani: “Your basic essentials.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

[rumblelibrary]

Exhibitionism and jealous sex with Zemo? 👉👈

I need him like showing off to everyone exactly who you belong to 👀

Colonel Helmut Zemo x EKO!Reader

(This is like my main land, Colonel Zemo and his favourite Lieutenant are back showing off their power dynamics to the rest of the group)

Warnings: SMUT, public sex

To stare at his lands from the above alway quieted the mind of Zemo, it brought him rest. Sokovia. That’s all they did it for. That’s all he was on that cargo plane with his squad for.

He swore to protect it, to make sure to bring it to freedom, one day. Maybe not today, maybe not without blood. But he will.

Now for the imminent problem.

To get down a small group of weapons dealers, of course the Stark Industries behind it as always, but these men were using Sokovia as land of exchange and this had to change.

His eyes travelled over you getting geared up in your tactical suit, you looked ravishing even in that. This wasn’t a mission you were needed, you were good at infiltrate, gaslighting, manipulation, you were his chess queen masked as a pawn, but he cousin’t really give you a discount for being extra good at what you do. His attention drastically shifted when another member of the team coming behind you to help as you chatted quietly. You smiled at him as he bowed lightly to say something to your ear and you smiled nodding.

Those moments before a mission, usually Zemo would spend those with you framing the important informations you have to keep in mind and instead you’re there flirting? Also, with him? Among all?

He studied the way he leaned forward, bowing his head and his facial expression. He really was going hard on you and you even let him do it. Oh, you were enjoying it, you were like a cat that moves around the ankles of a stranger to earn some undeserved food and attentions. Maybe you won’t ever pay back those attentions and yet look how he gave in for it. The chance to be the one you will celebrate the success of the mission with enough to make the man strive for it.

Then Zemo saw it, that hand resting on your hip and yet no reaction.

What game were you playing at?

Even the faint hope you were giving your comrade was irritating the Baron, you won’t celebrate with anyone but him, the rules are clear and yet you seemed up for testing the waters. You looked up and your eyes met, oh you knew. You knew you fucked up and yet you put your hand on the other man’s arm with a reassuring touch.

Then the time to put on the parachutes was on, these dealers had their headquarters in the middle of a forest and the only way to get them down was to surprise them from above in order to avoid mines and other traps.

Zemo shifted from his position to get ready himself even if that sense of uneasiness was still pestering him.

His eyes drifted back to the man, a smirk playing on his lips as you now got parted.

His friends coming closer to him giving him pats on the back and whispering things he would never allow to be said about his woman.

You were one of the first to do the jump and Zemo leaned beside you, the cold air hitting the bot of you.

“Are you sure of what you’re doing?”

You looked up at him as he pushed that question on you, there was no surprise in you. That almost made Zemo want to flip you immediately. You knew exactly what you were doing, he wasn’t misreading.

“I am” you said pulling down the mask covering your mouth, almost shouting to be heard “what about you?”

He frowned to your come back as you pulled that mask back up and jumped soon followed by the ones after you.

Zemo frowned as he took also the parachute and followed up.

The mission was hands down a success, no loss from your side and the whole place destroyed, now he will only sand a group to make sure the surrounding lands get cleaned up from any possible explosives. Back on the cargo plane Helmut looked at the team undoing their technical suits and cleaning their weapons, his eyes once more on you. As always you have been a proper sight on field. You’re not enhanced by serums in any way nor trained since you were a child. You just have it in you, that hunger, that primal instinct to do or die.

Once more, that comrade came closer to you, he talked to you quietly, whispering close to you, his way of behaving rubbing Zemo in all the wrong ways. Plus the fact you’re doing it on purpose. You are destabilising the group like this.

He called everybody’s attention as most of the group was on the seats on the sides of the plane.

“Today’s mission could be considered a success, but you were still slow” he said as the group frowned, Zemo always strived for perfection and he knew soon or later they will have to face something greater than a pair of smugglers.

“But the thing that I find most insulting of tonight’s mission is how some of you believe that they can play among the ranks”

A thick silence fell over the team, only you were still looking at him as he observed their reaction.

He let his little sentence sink in before adding “we do not mix Andalusian Horses with donkeys here”

Only a baron could do such a metaphor and you smirked lightly to yourself as he glared at you, being the closest to him in the chain of command you were beside him and he rested his back against the wall staring at you, his legs spreading.

If you had an hint of fear in your body you’d probably get worried, feel the pressure of what he was implying, of what he wanted to prove. Everyone knew there was one favourite and that was you. Not because he went easy on you, oh no, to be his favourite you had to be the hungriest and most savage of them all. The favouritism was the chance to be in his arms, beside to be his right arm.

You stood up and leaned in to look at him, he didn’t wince. Oh, he was mad you were giving hopes to the guy.

You kneeled down undoing his pants as he stared at you. Oh he wished you’d be afraid of this, but you’re not, you’re just where you wanted to be in the moment you welcomed his cock between your lips. You gave a big show indeed, you were skilled and you showed it off, you used your tongue licking striped of saliva over his cock, you even left out a soft moan as it vibrated against his sensitive skin. You hummed pleased sucking his tip softly, before going down bobbing your head.

He didn’t touch your head, he kept his hands still as he stared at you, you looked for it, asked for it, his hips snapping every now and the hitting the back of your throat.

The soft whines coming from you as he pulled his cock abruptly out and you pressed your tongue fat over the vein on it, looking for welcoming it back into your warm mouth. But that was enough already.

The rest of the group was growing restless, staring and resisting barely to start palming themselves.

“Up”

He ordered and you stood up undoing your pants pulling them down with your undergarment “You’re making a show” you whispered to him.

“You will give the show now” he assured to you gesturing you to turn around with a finger when you moved to sit on his lap “you have been looking for this, didn’t you?”

You groaned softly as he pushed his cock inside you snapping his hips hard inside you “oh, I should have prepped you, poor baby”

He cooed at you slapping your thigh as his hand moved onto your throat, your back resting against his chest as you actually bounced back his thrusts, you liked it and you weren’t holding it back.

Even if the beginning was raw you were too aroused by the whole situation, your body jerking over it in pleasure as he was blessing and punishing you with his attentions

“Tell everyone how much you like it”

“I love it” you moaned

“louder!”

You repeated is again before his hand squeezed harshly your neck, you parted your lips as he just went harder, he controlled your breathing skilfully, he swayed his hips harshly.

“You’re my bitch, let everyone hear the way you call out for more”

He growled into your ear as you held yourself up on his upper thighs, you knew you were playing a dangerous game there, you were teasing the wrong man.

But how pleasurable it was.

The whole group wasn’t letting out a word even if the air was thick, the arousal evident, the man you were teasing before just sweating his soul out for fear mixed up with excitement. That was what Helmut wanted to obtain: you’re an eye candy, but to look and not to touch.

His lips brushing over the skin of your neck, his groans resonating through you.

The way he touched you, the way he slammed into your body, changed angle and trusted more. The way his free hand touched you.

He wanted you to cum out loud. To make a mess on his lap.

There was only one man you couldn’t ever lie to and it was him, only one man held your devotion, your complete submission, the only one that you could accept something like this from without ever considering it an humiliation. It was a pack leader kind of ritual, showing the younger wolves who was the alpha through you and all of them knew you weren’t exactly a defenceless flower.

“Hel”

It was a soft whisper yours, almost strangled by the pressure he held on your neck.

He had to make you cum, it was part of showing them who you belonged to “It won’t end here”

A whisper, a promise you wished and knew he would keep as his fingers grasped over your body forcing you into a very obscene orgasm, the sounds you made could be recorded and played to torture touch starved people in jail, the other members of the group shivering in their spots. If you overacted it just to make it be heard loud and clear not even Helmut could say it.

He thrusted inside you more, once, twice until you felt him release into you and you shivered letting out a pleased moan to be full of him.

Your landing wasn’t far, the plane arrived just on time to let others stare intensely at Zemo to order to break the lines.

He didn’t satisfy them immediately. The had to see it, to see you shiver as his cum dripped on your inner thighs while still on top of him. Only when they did witnessed it, all of them he ordered them to leave.

You rested against him few moments more catching up your breath.

His hands travelling onto your body squeezing your thighs hard almost to the point of bruising you.

“You are a manipulative whore”

You chuckled “I leaned from the best”

He smirked with a soft chuckle escaping him.

“So it is reviewing time, show me what else you learned”

#helmut zemo fanfiction #colonel helmut zemo x reader #colonel helmut zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x you #baron zemo #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo au #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine

[drabsyo]

I was wondering...I was always confused about Narcissa’s hair. It’s been a while since I read the books. Did she color it blonde to show her now belonging to House Malfoys. Or was it naturally blonde? Movies confused me a bit I guess.

Yes, this had me confused too! I've agonized and toiled over it, more than I probably should, about how I should draw her hair because people have generally different views, which is totally understandable! 💕

And I've always wanted to discuss it, so now that I've been given a reason to... Well.

If you take a look at some of my Narcissa fanart, you'll notice the different ways I'd color her hair. I was so confused. Is she a light blonde? Dark blonde? A mix of raven hair and blonde hair? If she has blonde hair then why does her family have (mostly) dark hair? And WHY does she have blue eyes?! This woman is absolutely confusing! (Which is kind of, you know, fitting because Narcissa always loves to be a mystery to literally anyone lol)

So I did my homework, asked around, and scoured every bit of information, canon or otherwise, that I could find about her. It led me to this:

In canon, this is what the Black sisters look like. You can find the page here. Narcissa is a child here, and already has blonde hair. So we can go ahead and safely assume that she was born with natural blonde hair. But in the films, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. I don't actually know why they gave her that hair color, maybe so that the audiences wouldn't question her blood relations with the Blacks--I don't know. I really don't. But now we have a book version Narcissa, one who has full blonde hair. And a movie version Narcissa, one who has raven and blonde hair. At least, that's how the different hair colors started: a movie version, and a book version.

So... here's where it gets confusing.

To my knowledge, it isn't actually explained why her hair color is the way it is in both the movies and the books. Having blonde hair does raise many questions, how is she the "only" blonde in a family of dark hair and dark eyes? To top it all off, it gets even more confusing, because fanon writes and draws her either as a full blonde or a mix of raven and blonde hair. We just have this large pile to sift through of her having either hair color. No one actually explains anything. She's just... infuriatingly there. She's either blonde or raven haired and blonde. BUT fanfiction writers, as I've observed, give their own reasons why Narcissa's hair color is the way it is in their respective stories. And it's actually pretty creative and interesting! It adds even greater depth to her character, and it fits the narrative of the story even better. Remember, the character we're dealing with is Narcissa Black. One of her main traits is "she won't do anything unless there is a clear purpose behind it." This character is deliberate, meticulous, and she makes sure to plan ahead at all times. And so, some fanfiction writers decide to play on that.

You can skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers but I've compiled a small list of instances in (Cissamione) fanfiction where Narcissa's hair is mentioned.

🔹 In Extinction by rubikanon in Chapter 10: Build and Break, Hermione asks Narcissa about it. Here, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. She explains that she only decided to dye it blonde to "fit in with the Malfoys." We can gather two things from that alone, which resonates with her character perfectly: 1.) Narcissa is loyal and 2.) Narcissa purposefully wants to show the rest of the world how loyal she is by committing to having blonde hair. The woman has some serious commitment, and it shows. But now, the way that it's slowly growing back into her natural black hair color, hints that perhaps Narcissa no longer wishes to fit in with the Malfoys. However, if we take an even closer look, we can safely assume that Narcissa isn't the kind of person to just leave her hair color "unattended" like that. Remember, she's meticulous. And this is a big deal for her, the fact that she's just kind of letting it grow back instead of either fully dyeing it back to black, or dyeing it back to blonde. It suggests that perhaps she's a little unsure this time, perhaps it is her uncertainty that is the reason why it's now a mix of both. Another grey area? Or maybe it's actually something more deliberate? Maybe now, she likes that it's a mix of both. That other half now being solely for Draco, and not to fit in (completely) with the Malfoys any longer. Who knows why Narcissa does things the way she does? We can speculate to the ends of the earth, or be as smart as Hermione Granger (or with the case of Extinction, see Hermione's thoughts), but something tells me we'd still be a good step behind.

"Which one is your natural hair color?" I wondered aloud.

(Narcissa) She glanced up at the unexpected question. I was relieved she hadn't sensed my attention yet. It's not like I meant anything by it, I told myself. She was so beautiful, one couldn't help but notice. And feel physically drawn to her. And want to see her two-toned hair fanned across her back, slipping over the bare skin, silky beneath my fingers...

"Why do you ask?" Her query brought me back to reality, and I hurriedly corrected my imagination to include a pretty dress covering the rest of her.

"I don't know." I chewed the inside of my cheek, suppressing my other thoughts. "I'm just curious."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "You've seen enough of my relatives to guess which color is genetic. The blond is something I added to fit in with the Malfoys, after Draco was born." She was quiet for a moment. "He looks so much like his father. I suppose I wanted to share some resemblance."

🔹 In Killing Me Softly by Looktotheedges in Chapter 4: Nagging, Hermione suggests that perhaps Narcissa is part Veela because of her blonde hair and very attractive features, like Fleur. Which is this whole other theory/plot that's very interesting, but won't be discussed in this post. Narcissa tells Hermione that Sirius has always been blonde, and that it isn't out of the question for her to be blonde either. Sirius Black. A blonde. I know! Maybe it's there because it's funny that Sirius is actually blonde like Narcissa. Prissy, haughty, lady-like Narcissa. Arguably the 'girliest' cousin that he has. No, no, no. He doesn't want to be anything like Narcissa. Anyway, if that's the reason, I think that's hilarious and cute.

Narcissa turns away. 'I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…'

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. 'Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week.'

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. 'A blonde little boy. It has been so long since… I can almost imagine…'

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. 'Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?'

'Like a changeling?'

'It would explain your blonde hair.'

'Sirius was also blonde, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks.'

What?!

(...) 'I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven… then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly.'

🔹 In Fixed in Time by TheWorldsaBeastofBurden in Chapter 9: Sisters and Saviors, it's also tackled a little humorously. Andromeda let's a little comment slip while they're in the middle of trying to heal Hermione. Something funny, something that suggests Andromeda and Bella, when they were children, have always wondered why Narcissa is blonde unlike them.

The first words spoken occurred after they’d risen and attempted their casting. Andromeda’s preparedness to take on their task had been clear in her mind so Narcissa rose with her sister, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her near as the woman raised her wand to draw up the rest of the injury she’d dropped, half a slash across Hermione’s hip bone…

That remained half, as Andromeda growled out, “...it isn’t working.” she looked to Narcissa, “Why aren’t you powering me?”

What nonsense? “I am!” she insisted. She was! Or “I- I am trying to!” Her magic was active and alive, pulsing to rise from her skin and transfer into Andromeda’s but it- it wasn’t working! “Could...could it be that you were disowned?”

“Disowning doesn’t take away the fact that we share blood, our magic is directly related. Ugh, Bella always said you were adopted!”

“Oh ha- oh.”

“...oh?” Andromeda returned.

“...it’s not an issue of power. It is what I intend to aid in casting,” Narcissa slowly worked out. Oh, it was most blessed Mister Goyle could be brought to assist the present Hermione. If her present self had been brought to aid Andromeda? “...I cannot harm Hermione.”

Andromeda sighed with some frustration. “I understand you are so tenderly in love-”

“It isn’t- I’m avowed! I- when we arrived from the future we had to escape Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t bring Hermione through the wards without...I couldn’t add her directly, that would be visible. I had to...attach her permission to mine.”

🔹 In Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss (Menzosarres), which probably gives one of the most interesting backstories for Narcissa's hair, for why it's blonde. I can't put a clip of the scene here without hogging up a huge chunk of space on your dash, so I'll try to explain it as best I can instead.

Understand that these come with serious 🛑spoilers🛑 so please do read it at your own risk.

In Glass Silence, Narcissa's hair and eye color was black at birth. But after an accident with raw magic, something Bellatrix wasn't able to control when they were children, Narcissa almost dies. Bellatrix, using even more raw magic, tries desperately to pull Narcissa's "life force" back, but at the cost of losing the eumelanin that made Narcissa's eyes and hair black. Narcissa survived, but now has very little eumelanin left, which is why she's so pale, blonde, and has blue eyes. Every time Narcissa looks at a mirror, her reflection is a reminder of the day she almost died. Bella, on the other hand, is reminded of that day every single time she looks at Narcissa.

So! These are only a few fanfictions I could think of at the top of my head that tackles the issue of Narcissa's hair. In the books, to my knowledge, she is described as having blonde hair and very pale skin.

But let's take another deep dive, if you're up for it.

These are mostly theories, which are largely unconfirmed, but I think they're interesting to think about.

There's this description in the wiki:

"Narcissa Malfoy is described as tall, slim, "nice looking", and very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. Her hair colouring thus differs from most of the House of Black, who generally have dark hair, though Narcissa does possess the arrogant good looks characteristic of her family."

There's also this pinterest photo of the Black sisters being compared to each other side by side, descriptively and physically. I'm so sorry, I don't know who drew it, but here's a link to the post on pinterest.

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

Which is interesting because this hints that she's... different. It's a bit literal in this sense--she comes from a pureblood family, arguably the most influential and notorious one, the Blacks, who mostly have dark hair and eyes, and yet her physical appearance directly contrast that. There's also the matter of her namesake. She's the only Black to be named after a flower instead of a galaxy or a star. We aren't really given any explanation why she's the only one who's different. Even Sirius, who fought and died for the side of the Light, is named after the brightest star in the sky. Even Andromeda. It's been said that this is actually meant to be a parallel of some sort to Lily Evans. Narcissa and Lily are both named after flowers, even Petunia (Lily's sister). And I know there's this thing where it's a tie up to how Harry was ultimately saved by a mother's love: Harry lived at the beginning because of his mother's love, and Harry lives once again at the end of the books because Narcissa, a mother who wanted to save her own son, saved him.

If you read that scene in the books where Harry is saved by Narcissa, the whole scene is actually... pretty soft? There's that sort of disarming softness about Narcissa in that moment, where Harry expected to be callously dragged and prodded for a heartbeat. Instead, he gets a surprisingly gentle touch, a curtain of long blonde hair shielding him from the darkness, and the kind of tenderness he wouldn't expect from his enemies, "Is Draco alive?"

It's almost like Narcissa's appearance is something of a "tell". With Andromeda, she's described to have kind eyes, open, unguarded. She inherited her family's dark eyes and dark hair, and she even looks like Bellatrix's twin. I suppose we could say, Andromeda wants to fight that in any way she can by being openly kind. Narcissa is quite literally the opposite--guarded eyes, stoic expressions, cool and calculated emotions. We're veering into this fine line between fanon and canon in terms of their characterization (but only due to lack of canon materials) but personally, I think Narcissa having blonde hair and blue eyes is somewhat more fitting for her character. Again, this line:

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

It's like that one glaringly obvious hint that everyone overlooks simply because... because it's the most obvious one. "Me! I'm different! I'm the last person you'd expect, but it really is me!"

Anyway. I've rambled on long enough. Hope this clears up some of that confusion, anon. Hoping it didn't ADD even more confusion... 😂 At the end of the day, this is just me speculating, gushing, and being One Big Fool™. So.

But either way, blonde hair, dark hair, mix of both, I adore her. Pretty much.

#narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #cissamione #anon #HAIR TALK #drabstuff #stupid ramblings

[moonrazeeclipse]

Day at the Amusement Park.

The last time I went to an amusement park was when I was 12 years-old. My memories have been mostly shaky, but what I can remember was the happiness and joy I felt with my mother and father.

It’s been tough for me to have fun these days. Being a 23 year-old working a typical nine-to-five shift made it difficult to have time for myself. Stressed about the quotas, the numbers, job stability, and everything else in between. Good sleep has eluded me for months.

Then I look at my girlfriend, Nicha, and my hope has never been brighter.

Ah, Nicha. Everyone else knew and recognized her as Minnie, but the closest to her called her by her real name. If I thought an average office job was a grindfest, then hers was a gauntlet. Idol life meant she had to be up as early as 3 A.M. and she’d run through several sets of makeup, practice, interviews, and appearances. During one of her off days she and her members visited my building while I just so happen to be on coffee break. One funny stare and the next thing I knew, we were hiding our relationship from the whole world.

No matter how exhausted she got, she kept that same positive, happy energy as if she had unlimited battery life. Each occasional glance as I drove to the old amusement park, she was beaming, singing along to the songs on the radio, like she were a child. This was one of her rare off days where they didn’t have any schedules, so maybe that’s the reason why she’s extra joyful too.

The park itself hadn’t changed much since I last visited all those years back. The entrance looked rusted and devoid of any life or color. There seemed to be way fewer people visiting as well. Nicha offered to take me to that newer park with those virtual reality simulators, but I turned it down with a chuckle, saying that I wasn’t making enough money to spend a day there. Regardless, we entered the place, her hand holding mine, dragging me with the brightest smile on her face.

Whatever she wanted to do, I followed along. Nicha ran ahead of me, acting like a child and not a famous, recognizable idol. Being around me must be freeing for her; she could be herself when I’m with her. None of the rides were renovated or refashioned, which gave me that nostalgic feel. Because there weren’t that many visitors, waiting only took less than ten minutes for each ride. Despite my motion sickness, I powered through the first roller coaster without a problem. The second one? I recalled hurling up minutes after getting off that one as a child. Nicha screamed her heart out on the first coaster, but was overcome by fear on the second. She leaned into my chest while I was fighting every urge not to puke mid-ride. I sought a barf bag once we got off, making her laugh.

“Ahaha! You look hilarious!” Nicha mocked.

“Why are you gloating? Don’t act like you were hiding your face on my chest.” I retorted. She blushed in embarrassment before pretending to run away. No matter how much she loved to make fun of me, I couldn’t get upset. Her wholesome smiles made her a great person to hang out with.

Walking along the park, we came across a row of booths. These booths offered challenges in exchange for prizes. Dad won me a basketball as a reward back then. Even with age, one of the game masters somehow recognized me by my eyes.

“Hey, hey! It’s been a long time! You’re all grown now!” He said, calling my attention.

“Oh, hey. How did you recognize my face?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have your father’s eyes, that’s why! How’s he doing?” He changed the subject.

“Umm, great I guess.” I honestly didn’t know how to answer, since I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Nicha suddenly came in from behind and hugged me. The game master’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Is this your girlfriend? Why don’t you step up and show her your father’s talent?” He challenged me on the spot. I sighed as Nicha moved right next to me. Her beaming eyes and bright smile gave me more pressure to do well.

I was poor at sports, so I wondered how bad I’d mess up at ring toss. I didn’t have deft hands like my dad, and I wasn’t practicing at all. I’m better with keyboards, I murmured under my breath as he gave me the rings. First toss. The ring hit the bottle. My eyes widened. Second toss. The bottle was a little more distant than the first. I threw the ring and to my surprise, it hit too. Shock drowned out my girlfriend’s cheers and the yell of the game master. One more ring, one more toss. The bottle was placed at a greater distance compared to the earlier ones. I was doing better than I thought, so maybe my luck would run out on this turn. I flung the last ring, and time seemingly slowed down as I released it from my grip.

One, two, three, four, five. Bingo.

Nicha hugged me in celebration. I made all three tosses as the game master applauded me. Wow. Honestly, that may have been divine intervention, considering how awful I am at these games. It must have been five minutes before I moved because I stayed frozen in place, unable to let my victory sink in.

“You do have your father’s genes in you after all! Go ahead and pick a prize.” The game master said, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to Nicha, implying that she could choose the prize. She took the hint and pointed at a gigantic brown teddy bear. The game master grabbed it from the shelf and handed it over to me. I gave the stuffed animal to her, and she buried her face on its belly.

“Aaahh it’s so fluffy! You’re really good at this, Minki!” She cuddled the bear as I just chuckled and waved goodbye to the game master.

The rest of our day at the park was just riding the rest of the attractions and eating an ice cream sandwich along the way. Nicha and I had so much fun together, refusing to let go of the teddy bear. The sun had set and nightfall came, and our time was almost up. But before we left, there was one more ride we hadn’t gone in. The ferris wheel.

The passenger cabins were suited for four people, so we hopped on one, including our stuffed animal. She placed the bear next to her as the wheel began moving. From where I sat I could see the bright lights of the highway, overlooking the specks of people thousands of feet in the air. Nicha looked out the window before turning to me, taking my hand.

“I’ve had so much fun with you today,” she said, caressing my hand gently and pecking it. “Thank you.”

I gazed into her eyes, gleaming brighter than the stars in the night sky. She stared back at me, looking at me the same way. Then something sprung in me to lock lips with her. Nicha sunk into the kiss, pulling me close and our tongues swirled with each other. She was sweeter and tastier than dessert. I cupped her cheek and she placed her palm on mine, running it across her face.

She broke the kiss and slowly spread my legs. I panicked a little because of the situation we’re in. Nicha feigned ignorance and unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers.

“Nicha! We’re still in public, remember?”

“Your cock says otherwise,” she replied, slapping my hardened cock with her hand. “I’ve been missing you so much. I can’t help myself.”

She seized my balls, giving them a rub. “You’re full. You’ve been missing me too.”

I groaned as she kissed me from my balls, making her way up to my tip. Her soft lips felt so good on my shaft. She looked at me with widened eyes, satisfied with the pleasure she’s giving me. I slumped into my seat and closed my eyes, allowing the euphoria of her swirling tongue to override my brain. If that wasn’t enough, she added her sensual moans into her slurps, giving me tingles up my spine.

My hands flowed through her black locks, while the rest of my body just numbed in pleasure. I didn’t realize she took me in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Nicha bobbed her head back and forth, coating my shaft with her saliva. We didn’t care if anyone caught us in the lewd act. Nicha had her way with me and my body happily fell under control.

Pop. She released me from her mouth after blowing me off for a while. I was really sinking into that excitable feeling too. Appropriate timing too, as she finished up just as the car was about to reach ground level. I quickly buttoned up my pants as she pretended like she didn’t suck my cock leaving the pod.

We reached my car just as the park was closing, and she gave me a few pecks on the cheek. “When we get home, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want.” The thought of her splayed body already riled me up and I couldn’t be any more excited to drive home.

I turned the key. Rough gruffs roared from the engine. Again. Gruffs. In frustration I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. The car couldn’t start. Fuck.

“I just had it checked last week,” I grumbled. It was second hand but I didn’t have any excuse. Nicha giggled. She was still smiling as she watched me suffer and curse my car out. Oh, no matter how terrible a day gets, you’re always the jovial one.

Conveniently there was a subway station nearby whose line started and ended at the park. We both got out of the car and decided to take the train home. Nicha still refused to let go of the teddy bear.

Entering one of the cars, we sat at the back end of the left row. All the walking wore our legs out, so I slumped down in my seat. Nicha set the bear at the corner chair before sitting beside me. Drowsiness began kicking in and soon enough, I fell into a deep sleep holding my girlfriend’s hand tightly.

I felt a sensation below my chest that woke me up. My eyes opened slowly, vision blurring my sight. I looked to my left and saw only the teddy bear. She probably went to the bathroom, I thought. I tried going back to sleep, but I felt that twitching in my stomach again. I looked down and to my surprise, my pants were on the ground. Nicha was on her knees, sucking my erect cock.

“Nicha! What did I say about doing this in public?” I whispered, trying to avoid causing a disturbance with the nearby passengers.

She responded by taking more of me into her mouth, making me moan with her humming sounds. “Mmph, I can’t help myself. Your cock rubbed on me as we slept.”

It took all of my willpower not to submit to pleasure, but I was able to scout the area. There weren’t a lot of people on this late train ride home, except a man wearing a business suit calling someone on his phone seated on the opposite aisle.

I slowly hopped from one chair to the next using the rail, keeping Nicha busy on my shaft without her letting go into it. My free hands lifted the stuffed bear from its seat and placed it to where I was sitting. The prized toy was huge enough to act as camouflage from unsuspecting train-goers.

“Yeah. Let’s discuss the business trip to Japan at the cafe. I’ll move up so you can spot me as I get off,” the man said as he stood up from his seat and trudged to the front.

I sighed a breath of relief, but that was only a temporary win. I looked below to see how Nicha was doing and my eyes widened. She stripped off her overalls as her bare legs were now exposed.

“Nicha!” I almost screamed, panicking at the situation she’d got us into. She giggles at my reaction before kissing my tip with her soft lips.

“While you were busy covering us up I took my overalls off. I really can’t wait for you to fill me inside.” She said matter-of-factly.

I groaned in annoyance but I couldn’t help myself. She was opening herself and I guess my patience ran out too.

“We still have a few more stops to go before our stop,” She added, stroking me with her fingers.

My psyche crumbled under her control again. I resisted her lips, but not her hands rapidly pumping my cock. I threw my head back and allowed the pleasure to jack my brain, grazing my hands on her hair again.

I must have drowned deeply to the delight of Nicha’s handjob that I ignored the dings and voice of the operator over the speaker indicating the train’s destination. My eyes, struggling to open, somehow caught a glimpse of a few new passengers entering the car. Quickly I bent over and took her overalls as well as my large coat and veiled my crotch. She continued jerking me off under the covers, eager to get me to orgasm. The commuters gave me either  weird or neutral looks as they walked by. I gave them a gaze of exhaustion, pretending as if I was ill. I just hope they didn’t notice the suspicious bulge below me.

Most of the travelers moved onto another cabin but some of them sat a few rows behind or ahead of ours. Thankfully none decided to sit in the same aisle as us. My hands, which were positioned on my lap, were grabbed by Nicha. She led it down to her clit and I felt her wetness. Even with some bush she was clearly dripping.

“Fuck me, please,” She whispered, each word laced with lust. “I’m so wet for you, babe.”

I hoisted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I rose for a minute before sitting down with her on me. I carefully lined my shaft against her crotch before burying my cock in her walls. She let out a lengthy, low moan as I started ramming into her tight pussy. My hands snuck through her shirt, pinching her taut nipples, making her squeal.

I could feel her juices cream my hair as I grinded back and forth, making sure she feels every inch of my length. One hand escapes her shirt to cover her mouth, preventing her from letting out wild screams. I pulled her face close to mine, her features indicating pleasure as our lips met for a shaky, passionate kiss.

As we continued making out my eyes caught a glimpse of a stewardess slowly making her way across the cabin, punching passengers’ tickets. I broke the kiss off and drove Nicha into my chest, bundling our bodies with her overalls and my coat. The attendant reached us, her formal smile shifting to a confused look at the weird image ahead of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, is she okay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. She’s just a little ill, so I’m warming her up, that’s all.” I answered, nodding repeatedly.

Nicha sold my act by freezing in my arms. I reached into my coat and pulled out two tickets. She punched them and smiled as she walked by, believing my lie.

My girlfriend looked me in the eyes, lust ridden over them. I squeal as her finger reaches my cock, still buried in her soaked cunt, stroking me off. Through the pleasant sensation I managed to keep my eyes alert, watching the passengers slowly leave one by one at the next stop. Now it was just the two of us in this cable car.

“We’re alone. Fuck me,” She said as the train started moving again.

Perhaps her eagerness drove me to thrust into her a lot faster than I thought. I rocked back and forth on the chair, drilling her with my shaft. Nicha closed her eyes and let the pleasure fill her, her mouth making a wide ‘O’ shape. At this point we ran out of care for our surroundings, made clear by our audible moaning. Her hands claw my nape and hair deeply, her slender figure bouncing up and down my lap.

The tightness of her pussy, as well as her soft, seductive moans made it hard for me to keep control. I was losing another round to her lewdness and this one would be the hardest of them all. I was all but ready to climax, only slowing down my pumps to keep the euphoria last longer.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I whispered.

“On me. Fill me, please. Fill me with your cum.”

One. Two. Three. With a heavy groan I reached my peak. I felt shots of warm semen fill her womb. I pumped through my orgasm, shooting flecks of cum in her until I was drained. My hips stopped grinding. I put my head down in exhaustion over that intense, risky session. She cupped my face then kissed me on the cheek.

“T-that was s-so g-good. I can’t wait until we get home for more.”

There’s a clear trail of white on my chair and on my pants. My cock slipped out of her slit as I set her down on the ground.

“This is the last station! Thank you for riding with us.” The operator announced over the intercom. We’re almost at our destination.

I pulled her overalls off my coat and threw it at Nicha. “Put these on, we still have to walk home.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “I want to go home with your cum dripping down on me.”

I sighed. Nicha decided to be bratty on the way home, when everything was almost perfect and after all we’ve been through. But what else can I do?

I gave her my coat as I took her overalls and placed it in my bag. We got off the train with her wearing my coat, our mixed juices still running down her legs. We enjoyed our little walk home, having forgotten the prized teddy bear that she was attached to all day long, but that didn’t matter. As soon as we reached home, we stuffed our bodies into each other throughout the night.

—————

And that’s my first work done. I didn’t do a lot of editing as I was excited to publish this one. I finally decided to jump into the world of smut writing after being inspired for a while now. Thank you for reading!

#kpop smut #smut #g idle #minnie