#traders family review

[carabelajaronline]

Cara Daftar Komunitas Traders Family di Surabaya Sidoarjo

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Okay on Saturday we meant to leave at 3 in the afternoon. Instead we leave at 5 after a full day of packing camping gear (Kimmer) and cleaning the house (Dave) plus a little last-minute shopping.

Out the door, on the road, we cruise 405 to Hamptons Seattle/ South Center where we check in around six

We're missing a few things, though, like a luggage strap for one of our giant bags that's actually missing one of its handles so the remaining one just sort of flaps about. We shop some Target and Dollar Tree between six thirty and seven fifteen for the luggage strap (settled for duck tape instead), Easter candy for Kimmer's cousin, a chocolate bunny rabbit for me, and then some additional food for the evening and breakfast the next morning so we can eat on the fly if we have to.

By the time we're back in our room, it's 730. We figure we'll be in bed around 830 because that's the smart thing to do. Instead, we don't settle down for sleep until a little after ten. Kimmer studies. I score a hot chocolate downstairs by the lobby as well as water and a chamomile tea packet to go with the hot water Kimmer's already got going in the room. I decorate my thermos with Harry Potter, National Parks, Cheeky & Dry, Mod Pizza, and some other random stickers. I finish the evening coordinating with the gentleman looking after our cats. Did a huge text dump into his messaging app on the care and feeding of two cats that's so much more complex and complicated than taking care of just the one. Then I set three alarms on my phone. 245. 3. And 305. 245 did the trick, though, because we weren't sleeping at all deeply through the little less than five hours we could. It was more like we were playing tag with sleep. Sometimes we'd catch it. Most of the time it would get away. Not sure what that was all about. Maybe it was excitement on our part. Maybe it was the people, a family Kimmer says, who were arguing in the room next door during the wee hours of the morning.

So when my first alarm goes off at 245...

No big deal.

Our bodies weren't that invested in sleeping anyway.

In no time, we're outta bed, snagging the breakfast Kimmer scored at Target the previous night, mango yogurt and berry yogurt and split a banana. Then I hit the shower after taking a photograph of the alarm clock that reads

Because I can't believe it myself.

While I'm in the shower, Kimmer repacks what little we unpacked the night before, then she gets ready and we're outta there. 

Three thirty five AM we're walking out the front door.

We embark on an eight-minute basically nighttime drive to Doug Fox Parking, during which we travel part of the way almost directly beneath the light rail track that climbs the hill west of South Center Mall.

For the first time ever we're confronted by a Lot Full sign. Not a problem if you have a reservation. Which we do. Unfortunately, I've got it tucked in my bag in the back of the van. So I pull forward, get out the car, grab my reservation which the attendant checks, then we snag parking just as he pulls a shuttle right beside us. The whole process seriously moved. And now we're on our way in a packed shuttle to the Southwest drop-off just before 4AM, mere minutes behind our projected schedule. We check our bags, the two massive ones clocking in at 44 and 47 pounds, meeting the 50-pound limit so thus they travel free. Then we're into the TSA line where, because it serpentines, we get to see all the different ways family resemblance manifests across generations. Also, we're getting our first look at bleary-eyed human beings of all ages. Children, especially. It's like they just pulled an all-nighter. 😳 The morning, in fact, is marked by a lot of kids who look like this. 😕 They're wiped out even though they haven't done anything yet. 

By the way, some are wearing their PJs, some are dressed pretty jazzy, and all are wearing the eyes of being up all night. ☹️

Once we're through TSA and down the concourse, it's three minutes until it's time to take our place in line.

Our super early morning's timing wasn't tight... but it kind of was without us thinking too hard about it.

And the thing I said before about bleary eyed human beings? 

That was definitely the missus 'n me who slept deeply on both legs of our flight, short as each one was.

Landing at LAX around ten thirty was kind of a woozy experience recovering our bags and rolling everything out front and then a coupla blocks over to catch our Lyft at the new transportation hub.

Annoying. Exhausting. Kimmer was not pleased.

A few minutes later, our Lyft driver scoops us up and drops us at Escape Campervan around 11:15AM. Within a half hour, the staff at their  Inglewood location gets us checked in, set up, and on the road with our full complement of camping luggage.

To where, though?

Kimmer's idea is that she'd like to drive down the coast before cutting inland to her cousin's place. 

We're also hungry though.

Plus, earlier at one of the airports we were both remarking on how often we end up traveling on Easter Sunday. Mostly by car or van. This time by plane. But yeah.

Over the years we traveled a lot of Easter Sundays. 

At the same time we're thinking about that, I remind her of that one time we were traveling with Linzy. I think this was in the Rialta RV and we were driving down the coast from Crescent City California. It was taking longer than we figured, though, so we cut inland earlier than intended and Kimmer figured out a hotel for the three of us as we traveled through the middle of the night.

The next morning (of course) after that midnight ride, it was Easter Sunday. Having no plans, we decided on a brunch at the local Denny's. The place was absolutely packed. We did get a booth, though. And, I'm guessing, a bunch of grand slams.

So.

With that memory freshly recovered, we drive down to one of the Denny's restaurants in Long Beach on the Pacific Coast Highway during a relentless rainstorm, water pouring in streams off the roof of the restaurant as we scooted ourselves down the block from the parking lot, along the side of the restaurant, up the stairs, and into the lobby. At our table, we order a Mile High Denver Omelette, a side of fruit, sausages, and brioche French toast along with a coffee and a tea.

Later, we shared our experience there with our waitress and the manager. Our waitress encouraged us to contribute a Google review.

Which I did.

"My wife and I actually had to travel today, Easter Sunday. We were up at 3 in the morning for a 520AM flight with one stopover. So by the time we arrived in California we were pretty wiped out.  😕 We were really hungry, though, and decided to stop in Long Beach for breakfasts for lunch. The service and attention we received from everyone from the manager to wait staff to assistants was the loveliest thing. We were welcomed and attended to in ways that surpass some of our fine dining experiences where there's only one point of contact. We're definitely leaving here feeling more energized and ready for the rest of our day ☺️"

And yes.

It really was that lovely.

We were at the Long Beach Denny's from quarter past noon to one thirty at which point the rain let up.

By this time, with rain dogging our travels, we travel first to the Irvine Sprouts to pick up groceries before heading to Kimmer's cousin's place where we roll in around 230. Kimmer's cousin's prepping his teardrop trailer he's taking camping because that's what we're doing this week: our annual Family Camp on the Hill Above Laguna Beach Adventure! If the weather permits (and it usually does) there's beach exploration to be had, sunsets to watch, stars to see, family campfires to experience and, since this is right along the PCH, I always think good grief, Veronica Mars lives down here. 😉

For now, we pull our bags outta the van, Kimmer and her cousin take it all into his place while I park up the hill. Afterward, Kimmer's cousin, Derek, continues his work, and Kimmer gets cozy upstairs for the papers she's gotta write and the tests she's gotta take for her doctoral program before the day is over.

Yeah. Her doctoral work is ongoing. Even while we're in sunny California.

Around 430 I head out to do some grocery shopping at Trader Joe's and Ralph's for dinner (and dessert) as well as a little bit for the week.

Back at 630, we all break from our late afternoon activities for a meal featuring bacon-wrapped, slow-cooked meatloaf and a viewing of Jesus Christ Superstar, a movie that I've never seen before.

Crazy stuff. 🤔

Afterward, Kimmer's back to papers and tests, Derek finishes his work before turning in for the night, and I hang out with Kimmer's nephew, Kyle, while he plays video games and I write. We do those things and talk at the same time and, eventually, it's just talking about neuroscience and academics, if you can believe that. Plus the story of my cousin in Europe who, whilst interviewing for the job of bodyguard answered the question Would you take a bullet for me? with a prompt No. But if there's time I'll push you out of the way. 🤣

By n by, Kimmer comes downstairs, triumphant in her day's doctoral accomplishments... and joins us.

By now, the day's just nudged into tomorrow and Kyle finally asks the obvious question.

Why are you guys still up???

Hmmm. Good question.

We were gonna take a nap just as soon as we arrived but that never happened.

I guess we just caught our second wind, I tell him. And then proceed to tell the tale of our earlier experience at Denny's, the experience that gave us the shot of energy that sustained us through the rest of the day.

Apparently.

To which Kyle says

Do you know you could've paid way less for breakfast?

Wait. What?

Yeah. Turns out Denny's gotta menu (back of the menu) for kids over 55. Now, I'm not saying the missus 'n I are over 55... but my spin on this is that Hey.

No one there thought we were over 55 so they never suggested we check out that menu.

Yeah. I'm going with that. 😑

In the end, we cruised the full twenty-one of a twenty-four hour filled day. We absolutely did chunks of it bleary eyed... but caught our second wind and just kept going.

Tomorrow, then, Laguna Beach!

😁

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

*image of Jensen Ackles is used with permission of the photographer Mandi Lea Photogtaphy.

Summary: After a significant career shift and subsequent break-up, Brandy Miller moves to Wayne County, Pennsylvania, to be closer to family. She invests in a small, sight-unseen condo in a “quiet, charming neighborhood with views of the Poconos and neighbors you can count on.” One particular neighbor seems to have a unique interpretation of what that means.

Characters: Brandy Miller x Soldier Boy, Serge Bernard, Kimiko Miyashiro (mentioned), Maggie Shaw, Annie January, Hughie Campbell, MM (mentioned), John James Davis (AKA Homelander but just as SB’s 21yo son), Butcher (mentioned)

Warnings/tags in this chapter: 18+ ONLY, sexual tension, sexual objectification, rough and degrading sex dream, alcohol, Soldier Boy is a terrible father, explicit sexual content

Words in this chapter: 3,500

Author’s notes: Soldier Boy will be referred to by many names in this fic. The full name I’ve given him is Benjamin James Davis III.

Thank you to @brrose-apothecary @stusbunker and @talltalesandbedtimestories for pre-reads and green lights!

This fills my #Inconsiderate Neighbor square for @jacklesversebingo

CHAPTER ONE

The last five years have been wild. A global pandemic impacted our life choices and decisions more than any other event in the previous 50 years. Career shifts, resettling in vastly different communities, honest declarations of who we are as people and who we love — these things I’ve witnessed first-hand.

I was an executive for a nationally renowned advertising agency. My partner of six years was a successful stock trader. About three weeks into our second lockdown, I realized I couldn’t stand the guy. I went through every reason why I’d have stayed for so long if he was so horrible. I wondered if he hated me too. Then one day, he told me.

“Brandy, I can’t do this anymore.”

He didn’t hate me; he just didn’t love me. He wasn’t horrible; he just wasn’t for me. 

Working remotely gave me a similarly renewed perspective on my career choice. I worked 12 hours a day from my home office overlooking Central Park, drank a bottle of wine to go to sleep, then got up the next morning to do it all over again. Meanwhile, everyone in America was tightening their purse strings on ad spend.

Now, I’m in the Honesdale borough of Wayne County, Pennsylvania, working as a freelance document review specialist. I’m single, own my two-bedroom condo outright, and spend Sundays with my sister Amber and her two teenagers over in Damascus. 

These changes introduced me to a set of concepts that I had previously denied. I thought I was happy, successful, content. 

But I’m told that a constant desire for more hinders contentment. Comparison is the thief of joy, as they say. A sense of entitlement will always bite you in the ass. A lack of gratitude prevents you from appreciating what you already have and fosters a need for something beyond.

As it happens, I have a prospective client meeting in Scranton this afternoon, and my brand-new Jeep won’t start. I guess they don’t make them like they used to. 

“Brandy, mon amie, where are you?” my friend Serge answers my call with worry in his voice.

“My truck won’t start,” I whine.

Last month, I complained to Serge and his partner-in-all-things Kimiko that government work was beginning to bore me. I like new things, which is a bummer, considering desire hinders contentment. Kimiko offered to introduce me to her brother, who works with one of the largest healthcare companies in the country. 

“Oh, cher...” Serge laments in sympathy.

“I know, I know. And this fucking podunk town’s got like two cabs and one Lyft serving the entire county.”

I roll my neck and eyes in frustration, and in my periphery, I glimpse a man inside a single garage stall working on a motorcycle. I’ve never seen him before, but judging by the military-themed tattoos, evident dexterity with the tools he’s wielding, and his proportions, he’s the ‘asshole military contractor’ my next-door neighbor, Maggie, told me about when I moved in. 

Serge frets in Frenglish on the other end of the line before returning to the point. “On se’n occupe. We will handle it.”

I watch my newly discovered neighbor deftly flex and twist and wonder if he’s as adept with other motor vehicles. “Please tell Kimiko I’m sorry and understand if this opportunity’s off the table now.”

My words are meant for Serge, but the man not 10 yards away sends me a subtle, knowing look. There’s an enduring facet of competence and perception in every flick of his eyes and wrist, every shrug of his thick, broad shoulders, and the taunting slant of his jaw. He knows I’m watching him and knows I’m in a bind. 

He pities me.

I tell Serge that I’ll let him know how things go with the car before ending the call then tentatively head toward my neighbor’s garage stall.

“Hey there, I’m Brandy.” I thumb over my shoulder, indicating the general area of my condo. “Are you BJ?”

He smirks at his greasy wrench before answering, “BJ, Soldier Boy, Captain,” then pauses as he drags his eyes from his task to pin me in place. “Take your pick, sweetheart.”

He looks me down and up, slow and heavy, licking his lips. His demeanor would be comical at best and frightening at worst if I weren’t so stunned by the sheer audacity. As he unfolds from a squat, his muscles shift and grind under his sweat-slicked skin. He wipes his filthy hands on a filthier rag and saunters toward me. I have never in my life been so blatantly objectified right to my face.

“Need a ride?” he asks, meeting my eyes again. The rounded toes of his grungy work boots tap the points of my Jimmy Choos.

“I-” I attempt to speak but don’t know what to say. I should be outraged. I should tell him he can’t just look at people like that. He can’t just invade my space.

He tilts his head, and his eyes drop to my chest. “You're all flushed, Brandy. Feeling okay?” He drops his rag to the concrete before ghosting a finger along my collarbone.

Air returns to my lungs and the flush in my chest rises up my throat to my face. I smack his hand away and take a step back. “What the fuck?! Do you always harass and assault women half your size, or is it just me?”

Centuries of gaslighting threaten to drown me from one single look. And then he speaks. “My bad. Didn’t know you were a prude.”

He raises his hands in feigned surrender before returning to his bike.

“I’m a prude because I don’t like being evaluated like a pig going to slaughter?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Listen—no harm, no foul, alright? I thought you were game; you’re not, no big deal.”

“Man, I came over here as a neighbor to introduce myself. You clearly heard part of my call and know my car isn’t starting. I thought, since you’re in here working on a motorcycle, you might also know something about cars.”

He nods. “Got it. Is that where we’re at right now? You want me to take a look at your car?”

“Jesus- what?! Are you for real?”

“No? Okay, then.” He turns his back, and I stare at him for a moment.

Thoughts swirl through my mind. Where is your spine, Brandy? Show him what you’re made of. This isn’t over until you say it is.

A slave to my guts and ego, I’m determined to re-engage. “Yes.” 

He slowly faces me again, eyebrows raised and head tilted in question. “Yes?”

“Yes. I’d appreciate it if you’d take a look at my Jeep.”

His expression shifts—softens, some might say, but his eyes remain hard and cold. “‘Course. What kinda neighbor would I be if I didn’t?”

He strides toward my two-car stall across from his, and I follow with no other excuse than my competitive spirit and morbid fascination with opposition. 

“You pay extra for two stalls?” he asks, glancing at the gym area I’ve set up beside my Jeep before rounding its hood.

From what I’ve gathered in this brief and bracing interaction, Captain BJ Benjamin Soldier Boy isn’t a small-talk kind of person, but I’m not sure yet why he’s asking a simple question like that. I decide to answer as simply.

“Yeah.”

He nods and gestures to the driver’s seat. “Pop the hood.”

I watch through my windshield and the slant of space between the hood and my dash as he quickly pokes and prods at things I know nothing about. Less than two minutes later, he drops the hood shut and walks around to the open driver’s side door.  

“Try it now.” He’s rubbing his hands together and his brow is slightly furrowed like he wishes he hadn’t tossed that rag aside in his garage.

I turn the key in the ignition, and it starts with no issue. 

My morning started with limited knowledge of this man and the inner workings of my Jeep. I had a single goal in mind to expand my client portfolio. I did not grow my business, I have not learned anything new about my vehicle, and my introduction to my neighbor has provided me with very little satisfaction. 

“Coupla loose terminals. It happens with new cars. Gotta break ‘em in.”

I flick my eyes to meet his. He holds my gaze, licks his bottom lip back between his teeth, then backs away before strolling away. 

+

“He’s the fucking poster boy for misogyny.”

Maggie nods as she tops off my glass of wine. “Yeah, calling him an asshole is an insult to assholes, honestly.”

“I felt like I was transported back to the 1950s or something. He’s a caricature of misogyny.”

“The embodiment,” Maggie replies, settling back into her sofa and sipping her wine.

“Does he think that works on women? Like, are there women in his sphere who respond favorably to his behavior? He can’t be rewarded by it. Maybe he’s conducting a social experiment.”

Maggie laughs. “You’re giving him way too much credit.”

“Then why?”

Maggie stares at me for a beat. “The question is, why do you care?”

I’ve thought of nothing else since he left me in my garage yesterday morning. I felt defeated by him. Used, somehow. Inconsequential in the end.

“I hate how he made me feel.”

Maggie remains silent and intent. She’s a great listener, and she never judges.

“I had a dream about him last night.”

She nods. “And how did that make you feel?”

I shake my head and draw a deep breath. It made me feel hot and wild. I was angry and hungry for him. Or for redemption, revenge, or victory. 

“It makes no sense. We interacted for like 10 minutes and I haven’t seen him since. That’s why I care. I can’t get him out of my head. I keep thinking of what I should’ve said or done instead of standing there like a deer in headlights.”

“Don’t let your pride rule you with him. He has no morals, no decency. You won’t win.” 

“You think I’m trying to win something.” 

She’s right. Maggie and I are a lot alike, but she’s smarter and more cautious than I am. Somewhere along the line, she learned a lesson I have yet to let sink in. She learned to resist a challenge and walk away. 

“Aren’t you?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Maggie suggests. “Did you get that meeting rescheduled, or is it dead?”

I fill her in on my chat with Kimiko. Kimiko’s brother Kenji was gracious enough to reschedule for next week, and I decided it best to go up the night before and spend the night with her and Serge in case I have any other car problems. 

Maggie opens a second bottle of wine and we proceed with our binge of Dead To Me on Netflix. 

+

I’m face down on my weight bench, straddling the padded seat with his fist in my hair and his cock hammering me from behind. He’s saying things to me, violent, hateful words, calling me names.

My wrists are bound, I’m blindfolded, and I am so wet. So wet from his rough hands, the way he slaps my ass and hips and pulls my hair. His voice is deep and rich, and it dominates the atmosphere and my mind. 

He’s had me so many times already, and he wants more. He wants to devour me. He can’t get enough of me.

And I never want him to stop. He treats me like a whore, tells me I’m his whore, and I can’t stop soaking his cock and slicking up the bench. 

“You fucking love my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck me.”

I wake up in a sweat after a third night dreaming of him. I feel fractured and unlike myself. I’ve never wanted the kinds of things I’m dreaming about him. I’ve never wanted a man to degrade me or tie me up. 

And this man is a pig of a man. 

But I can’t get him out of my head.

I’m aching and breathless. My sheets are soaked from sweat and my pussy. I reach into my nightstand for my vibrator to soothe the twitching between my legs and rid him from my mind. I think about all the things that usually get me off, but he just keeps coming back around with big, rough hands and dirty words, and teeth that score my tender flesh.

I come silently, arching into my mattress, imagining his hands around my wrists and his cock driving into me hard.

+

When I told the newlyweds who live across the hall from my nemesis that I’d never been to our neighborhood bar, they invited me to join them for burgers and beers. 

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but Butcher’s is an institution. I literally grew up in this bar,” Annie tells me as her husband Hughie distributes sticky menus and napkin roll-ups. 

“I’ll get a pitcher,” Hughie says and heads to the bar.

“I like it. Thanks for bringing me.”

I glance around the space, taking in old pictures and carved sentiments in the wooden beams. It still smells faintly of cigarette smoke after decades of No Smoking laws have been enforced. It reminds me of my favorite New York dive bar.

“Well, I’m glad. I’m sure it can’t be easy to transplant to a place like Honesdale where everybody knows everybody.”

“You know, it hasn’t been too bad. Between you two and Maggie, I’m meeting all the neighbors and learning the ropes like a real local.”

I don’t mention the man who’s rapidly infiltrated every dark corner of my brain since we’re having such a nice time. I don’t want to spoil it, but you don’t always get what you want.

“Ugh, BJ,” Annie gripes, reaching for a menu even though she surely has it memorized. “He is so gross.”

I hazard a glance in the direction of her glare to see the bane of my existence waltzing toward the bar. 

“He better not fuck with Hughie,” Annie says, narrowing her eyes as he brushes shoulders with her groom. 

Hughie gracefully ignores the man’s obvious intention to needle him, gathers three chilled pint glasses and our pitcher, and rounds the crowd away from Captain Creep to return to the table.

“Who’s the kid?” I ask, finally noticing a quiet young man with BJ at the bar.

“That’s his son John. That kid’s been through the wringer with BJ and his mom. I don’t know why he still comes around; he clearly cannot stand the man any more than us.”

John’s smaller than his dad. He’s almost delicate-looking with a thick swath of blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He doesn’t have the swagger of the man next to him, and he seems to wish he were anywhere but here.

“MM, my man, it’s my boy’s 21st birthday! Get him a whiskey and a round for the house on me.”

“Hey.” Hughie settles the pint glasses on the table before filling each one, serving Annie and me first, then sitting down to pour his own. “John’s 21st. This oughtta be an interesting night.”

Annie tells me stories about babysitting John when he was a kid. He was sweet and gentle, quiet but curious, and his dad taunted him for it.

“He called his 6-year-old son a pussy.” She shakes her head. “Who does that?”

John slides into a barstool and idly sips his whiskey. A few of the older patrons wish him Happy Birthday, and MM makes a point to keep his water glass and popcorn bowl full while John’s dad struts around, flirting with every woman and slapping the backs of every man. 

It’s odd to see people react to him positively. Men, no matter their age, appear to admire him, and every woman he smiles at blushes and giggles. 

“They don’t know him like we do,” Hughie says. “Should we order? Butcher’s in the back tonight.”

I decide on the ”Terror,” a half-pound beef burger with taleggio, prosciutto, and peperoncini, medium-well. Annie recommends the cheesy house fries with special sauce as a shared dish, and within 20 minutes, we have our food and a second pitcher.

A soft buzz from light American beer warms and loosens me up. In this state, I’m less critical of my thoughts about the man who’s starred in my most desperate and debased dreams this past week. 

He looks good. He’s agile and powerful, which is a spectacular combination. People laugh at his jokes. They gravitate toward him. They think he’s charming and handsome, and from the background of Annie’s stories, I learn that he’s a war hero. 

It’s nice to feel something other than the overwhelming angst and shame I’ve felt all week. He affects people; it’s okay. I’m not an outlier. I just have to ride this out.

We finish our food, and I excuse myself to the restroom. There’s a vanilla candle burning on a table beside a well-loved armchair, a basket with single-size toiletries, pads and tampons, condoms, hand soap, and lotion. Definite homey vibe.

As I step through the door into the hallway, I’m jolted from my chill by a deep voice.

“Look at you all caszh and relaxed.” 

He’s propped between the men’s and women’s, so close I brush his arm when I whirl around to connect the voice with a face.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Hmm.” He pushes off the wall and turns into me, backing me against the closed door.

“There’s that flush,” he murmurs. He does that thing with his finger again that made me smack his hand away earlier this week. This time, I let him.

“Is it because I scared you,” he pauses and catches my eye. “Or something else?”

I close my eyes and let my head fall back to the door, feeling the heat and buzz of a potentially malicious yet certainly pleasurable outcome. He slides a knee between my thighs and skims a heavy hand over my hip, nuzzling against my throat with a low chuckle.

My breath catches in my chest under the hand he has pressed there, holding me in place, keeping me where he wants me. Ire swirls and rises from my gut, and I grip his t-shirt in my fists to yank him into the restroom.

“There she is.” He stumbles backward with a grin as I throw the lock.

“Shut up.” I push him to sit in the chair before climbing astride him and diving in.

His lips are plush and demanding, his beard is soft, and his mouth is superheated and whiskey-wet. He’s hard and hot everywhere I touch as I tug at the button and zipper of his jeans. His hands roam over denim and my cotton t-shirt. He nips at my lips and toys with the button of my jeans.

“Fuck,” I growl, pushing out of his lap to get my pants down.

Before I know it, he’s spun me around, and he’s shimmying my jeans and underwear over my hips and down my thighs. He slumps into the chair and fits a condom over his length, then juts his hips forward to give me a place to rest. One long arm wraps my middle, and he slips two fingers over my wet slit. The wide pads of his fingertips swirl around my clit, and I brace my hands on the arms of the chair. Then he’s teasing me with his hard cock, rutting underneath, making me squirm. 

When he finally pushes inside, I shout and groan from the stretch and insane rhythm he’s keeping on my clit. I go off—ride him, pumping my thighs and elbows, using his arm around my middle for leverage. 

In less than a minute, I’m coming. One second later, he’s on his feet with me on my knees in the chair. He forces me to bend and hold onto the back, grips my bare hips, and pushes inside me again. He’s muttering, grunting, and, god, he’s hitting that spot with every thrust. 

“Come on, Brandy,” he gasps. “Lemme feel that tight little cunt come again. Make me come.”

I reach down between my legs and press over my mound, relishing his measured thrusts. I’m booze and fuck drunk, and my ears are ringing. His hands tighten on my hips, and we both come, swearing and howling.

Chapter Two coming soon...

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@lisah-over18 @jizzmans-world @mariefandom @technicallyeclecticblaze @yo222222

@srtadong @grimtherula @cc00897 @jackles010378 @123passwort

@amanduhjean @w33p1ng @rubberducky999 @monstrousmars @fangirling-instead-of-working

@am222444 @winchester-sinchester @kickingitwithkirk @indecisive30something @deans-psych

@fullwattpadmusictree @panders91 @motherofevee @thoughts-and-funnies @perpetualabsurdity

@iliser @krazykelly @he-touched-the-but @jensenackles-makes-life-better @hotmessmageereads

@cemmia @sofiasommariva @solariklees @ladywinchester1967 @bumbleb10

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @rainy-darling @rachiem4-blog @nothingtodobutdrink @waywardlass-blog

@idiotdyslexic @muchamusedaboutnothing @cutestdolans @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @harleysninja

@kdfrqqg @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @ushistorylover1018 @waywardgypsy

@missannwinchester @cosmicspacewitch @readingsins @sammylinda @alwaystiredandconfused

@pascal-rascal424 @likhelbentin @mere-mortifer @mylovelydame21 @squirrelnotsam

@hell0ag0ny @phirephly09 @redbarn1995 @alleiradayne @wayward-and-worn

@anspgene @fallwhisper @socalgem1124 @deanismybaby67 @purpleunicorn166

@brrose-apothecary @stusbunker @mrswhozeewhatsis @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word

@spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

[gabessquishytum]

From the horny discord chat today, someone posted a picture of Trader Joe's trail mix, branded the "Omega Trek" mix. It snowballed from there.

Scheduled subscription boxes for omegas in heat! All the most cutting edge nutritious and tasty snacks and over the counter remedies to make the process more bearable for unpartnered omegas. But what happens if your heat comes early and your goodies aren't there yet?

So. Dream is a loner alpha who runs a company that makes products for these boxes, and omega Hob has signed up to be one of his product testers, but his heat comes and the shipment has gotten lost (or whatever we like.) Fortunately Hob happens to be in the same city as Dream and he could just drop by with the items he really needs tested! It's just... there's a deadline, right? And he really needs this data. Very important data! He can't wait another 3 months or whatever or take the time to have new volunteers do the legal paperwork needed to be his product testers or he won't make the production deadline.

So he'll just drive the snacks over to this guy himself, no problem! What could possibly go wrong?

Actively yelling over the idea of Startup Company Guy Dream. His siblings laugh at him because what does he do for a living?! Put nuts and seaweed and chocolate into boxes?? Spend hours calculating the vitamins and minerals needed for a healthy heat?? Even his kinder family members think it won't last a month.

But Hob saw the product advertised on tiktok or something and thought it was a great idea!! So he signs up to test it about 6 months before the product is launched, and agrees to fill out a bunch of questionnaires and do an interview.

...and the data really IS important, which is how Dream ends up standing on Hob’s porch, waiting for him to answer the door. He should probably just drop the box there and leave but... it seems polite to at least check in with this guy who has agreed to help him out!

Unfortunately when Hob cracks open the door, he gets a whiff of yummy snacks AND yummy alpha. His mouth starts watering, and he accidentally swings the door wide open. It all goes a bit downhill from there.

Well, not downhill. But Hob’s experience of taste testing the snacks mostly involves him sitting on Dream’s knot and being lovingly fed in the brief periods when they're not fucking hard. So Hob probably can't give an entirely objective review of Dream’s project, but he can say with absolute certainty that everything Dream has given him tastes absolutely divine. Not just the snacks 😉

The snacks give Dream and Hob a great opportunity to stay in touch, because Hob does genuinely want to help because the product was yummy and left him feeling much better than usual after his heat. Every time they meet up to discuss the product though, it inevitably turns into another excuse to fall into bed together!

When the snacks finally launch to be sold on the open market, they're obviously a total success! At the launch party Hob finally, timidly suggests that maybe he and Dream should start seeing each other like... normal people? Not just under the guise of business stuff?

And Dream shyly hands him a personally curated box of snacks with all his favourites, and asks if Hob would consider sharing his next heat with Dream? As boyfriends this time?

And then they fuck in the bathroom, and Dream is late to give his speech, but it's totally worth it <3

[chaosjedimasterk]

Movie Night!

Movie night with the bad batch!!!

Honestly I’ve been having so much fun writing these little drabbles. If you have any suggestions let me know. If the writing is a little rough feel free to leave comments - if it’s grammar oriented sorry I’m not changing I’ve always been bad at it 🤷🏼��♀️

Summary: it’s movie night with the batch!

Pairings: hunter/reader, wrecker/reader, tech/reader, echo/reader, crosshair/reader, bad batch group/reader

Warnings: none! Mostly fluff, mentions of wine and kissing. Implications of spicy time but nothing explicitly mentioned

Reader is gender neutral

Thanks for reading!!!! 🥰

Hunter:

~ After a long day of finalizing intel for the next mission you and Hunter decide to have a low key movie night before you have to be away for the next few rotations. You ready your living room with a cozy blanket and some comfy pillows and get ready to settle in

~ Hunter is a movie theater butter popcorn kinda guy. It’s a classic and you can’t go wrong. Occasionally he likes to sprinkle chocolate candies in with the popcorn for a salty/sweet combination.

~ Hunter likes movies where he doesn’t have to think too hard, something that’s entertaining but also doesn’t involve a lot of brain power. Poor man is exhausted from having to be the sole impulse control of the batch 87.3 percent of the time. Tbh he absolutely would go for a movie like Jumanji - any of the renditions. Perfect amount of comedy, action and adventure

~ He tries real hard but he dozes off during the middle of the movie quietly snoring on your shoulder. You smirk as you gently nudge him and he gives you the old adage “I was just resting my eyes, I know exactly what’s going on”. You roll your eyes and gently kiss the top of his head as he quickly dozed back off.

Wrecker:

~ Wrecker is an action comedy kinda man. Occasionally action romance if he’s feeling extra spicy with you 🤭 Tonight in particular he’s feeling a good laugh. You and him spent the day training so he’s extra hungry. You aim for takeout as your movie snack. You’ve got the family entre and sides and you’re both devouring it!

~ The movie tonight is Bullet Train because you’ve seen good reviews and it is RIGHT up Wrecker’s alley! He is belly laughing through the whole movie and doesn’t tease you when you snuggle into his shoulder when it gets just a bit too gruesome. “Don’t worry babe! I’ll tell you when it’s safe to look again!” He says as you hide your face in his shoulder for the 5th time.

~ Wrecker likes to talk through movies so you’re often pausing so you can both get your thoughts and theories out. You don’t mind you like to hear what he has to say. The best part is talking about your theories of who’s behind the plot sometimes you’re right and then you’re wrong then right again. You’re both laughing and giggling the whole time.

~when the movie is over though you two snuggle on the couch and talk about your favorite parts, what scenes looked the coolest and who was the best actor. You stay that way well into the night until you’ve both passed out.

Tech:

~ this man COMMITS to movie night. He comes fully prepared with snacks, and sets up with a whole charcuterie board for the both of you with a paired wine. He also commits to being as comfy as possible. He pulls the gray sweatpants look because he knows you like it. It’s a treat for after the movie. You two cuddle up in the softest blanket he bought for you from a local trader

~ tonight’s movie is Glass Onion because Tech loves a mystery. He loves to see if he can figure out the mystery before the end of the movie. Like wrecker he is a chatter during the movie but mainly to himself. Muttering and mumbling his observations aloud. You find it cute. Tech also, very briefly imitates Benoit Blanc in a line that he found extra amusing. “Dear this movie is how do I say,” he pauses to find the right accent “brilliant!”

~ tech always watches a movie with rapt attention but as you cozy up to him he will gently and mindlessly rub your back or card his fingers through your hair. When the movie ends however he gently litters your face with soft kisses as you talk about your favorite parts of the movie. He loves listening to you and watching your eyes sparkle with amusement as you chatter on.

Echo:

~ Echo is a closet fantasy lover. He’s also a comfort movie watcher. So when he gets the chance he’s watching Lord of the Rings with you. And it. Is. A. Marathon. He doesn’t get a lot of days off with the batch but by gods is he making this a whole day. He helps you prep all of your favorite snacks the day before so you have them ready. When you wake up that morning the living room is set to a cozy level of 11/10.

~ Echo loves to cuddle while watching a movie, he was worried at first you might find him uncomfortable with some of his cybernetics but it really doesn’t bother you. You love to sit between his legs and lean your back up against his chest so he can rest his chin atop your head.

~ occasionally he sneaks some of the snacks designated for you even though he’s a firm believer in the tradition of his snacks. You don’t say anything of course so you can encourage him trying new foods.

~ yes, Echo of course points out the scene where Aragorn breaks his toe when he kicks the helmet so his scream is real.

~ by the end though Echo has gotten side tracked, he’s seen these movies a bunch of times and is absolutely raptured by your beauty so he takes pause breaks to be…devoted to you should you wish it 😏

Crosshair:

~ Man is a HOPELESS ROMANTIC AT HEART. You are absolutely watching a rom com or Bridgerton or SOMETHING of the sort. He loves when you get to see the soft side of him because only you get to see it.

~ He’s always rooting for the couple and if you are watching Bridgerton he likes to see you get a little hot and bothered and starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he plays with your hair.

~ movie night for you two is much less about the movie and more about quality time with noise in the background. If food is included it’s the sensual foods, ones that you can jokingly feed to each other.

~ the one time you did make popcorn on your first movie night you tried to see how many you could toss into each others mouths. You were cleaning up kernels for a month after

Group:

~ Omega picks the movie of course. She goes for a solid movie that all of her brothers and her might like. She chooses Kung Fu Panda because she suspects all of her brothers will find something to enjoy about it.

~ Omega and Wrecker giggle the entire time. Hunter is shushing Tech who keeps pondering about a Pandas ability to actually do kung fu - Echo relates hard to master shifu and crosshair is enjoying seeing his baby sister enjoy a movie so much that he even cracks a small smile.

~ it’s a classic family movie night complete with pizza and homemade milkshakes and popcorn and earlier that day you and Omega set up a blanket fort for all of you to snuggle into.

~ By the time you’ve made it to Kung Fu Panda 3 only you and Omega are awake, all the boys are fast asleep. Omega is curled up with her head in your lap fighting sleep because she so desperately wants to finish the movie but by the end, she too is fast asleep.

~you softly chuckle at the cuddle puddle around you and cover up omega with a blanket and you turn off the TV and allow yourself to drift off - content and happy with your boys around you.

[whencyclopedia]

Smoke and Ashes: Opium's Hidden Histories

"Smoke and Ashes: Opium’s Hidden Histories" is a sweeping and jarring work of how opium became an insidious capitalistic tool to generate wealth for the British Empire and other Western powers at the expense of an epidemic of addiction in China and the impoverishment of millions of farmers in India. The legacy of this “criminal enterprise,” as the author puts it, left lasting influences that reverberate across cultures and societies even today.

Written in engaging language, Smoke and Ashes is a scholarly follow-up to the author’s famous Ibis trilogy, a collection of fiction that uses the opium trade as its backdrop. In Smoke and Ashes, the author draws on his years-long research into opium supplemented by his family history, personal travels, cross-cultural experience, and expertise in works of historical verisimilitude. Composed over 18 chapters, the author delves into a diverse set of primary and secondary data, including Chinese sources. He also brings a multidimensional angle to the study by highlighting the opium trade's legacy in diverse areas such as art, architecture, horticulture, printmaking, and calligraphy. 23 pictorial illustrations serve as powerful eyewitness accounts to the discourse.

This book should interest students and scholars seeking historical analysis based on facts on the ground instead of colonial narratives. Readers will also find answers to how opium continues to play an outsize role in modern-day conflicts, addictions, corporate behavior, and globalism.

Amitav Ghosh’s research convincingly points out that while opium had always been used for recreational purposes across cultures, it was the Western powers such as the British, Portuguese, the Spaniards, and the Dutch that discovered its significant potential as a trading vehicle. Ghosh adds that colonial rulers, especially the British, often rationalized their actions by arguing that the Asian population was naturally predisposed to narcotics. However, it was British India that bested others in virtually monopolizing the market for the highly addictive Indian opium in China. Used as a currency to redress the East India Company (EIC)’s trade deficit with China, the opium trade by the 1890s generated about five million sterling a year for Britain. Meanwhile, as many as 40 million Chinese became addicted to opium.

Eastern India became the epicenter of British opium production. Workers in opium factories in Patna and Benares toiled under severe conditions, often earning less than the cost of production while their British managers lived in luxury. Ghosh asserts that opium farming permanently impoverished a region that was an economic powerhouse before the British arrived. Ghosh’s work echoes developmental economists such as Jonathan Lehne, who has documented opium-growing communities' lower literacy and economic progress compared to their neighbors.

Ghosh states that after Britain, “the country that benefited most from the opium trade” with China, was the United States. American traders skirted the British opium monopoly by sourcing from Turkey and Malwa in Western India. By 1818, American traders were smuggling about one-third of all the opium consumed in China. Many powerful families like the Astors, Coolidges, Forbes, Irvings, and Roosevelts built their fortunes from the opium trade. Much of this opium money, Ghosh shows, also financed banking, railroads, and Ivy League institutions. While Ghosh mentions that many of these families developed a huge collection of Chinese art, he could have also discussed that some of their holdings were most probably part of millions of Chinese cultural icons plundered by colonialists.

Ghosh ends the book by discussing how the EIC's predatory behaviors have been replicated by modern corporations, like Purdue Pharma, that are responsible for the opium-derived OxyContin addiction. He adds that fossil fuel companies such as BP have also reaped enormous profits at the expense of consumer health or environmental damage.

Perhaps one omission in this book is that the author does not hold Indian opium traders from Malwa, such as the Marwaris, Parsis, and Jews, under the same ethical scrutiny as he does to the British and the Americans. While various other works have covered the British Empire's involvement in the opium trade, most readers would find Ghosh's narrative of American involvement to be eye-opening. Likewise, his linkage of present-day eastern India's economic backwardness to opium is both revealing and insightful.

Winner of India's highest literary award Jnanpith and nominated author for the Man Booker Prize, Amitav Ghosh's works concern colonialism, identity, migration, environmentalism, and climate change. In this book, he provides an invaluable lesson for political and business leaders that abdication of ethics and social responsibility have lasting consequences impacting us all.

Continue reading...

[piglet26]

Rey Solo... Rey from Jakku.... Rey No one... anything but Rey Skywalker.

The Last Jedi simply revealed that Rey was a "nobody" – perhaps the most shocking and least expected outcome for the Rey lineage debate. It was a perfect twist in our heroine story despite people seeming desperate for her to be connected to some man already in the franchise.

Daisy Ridley has even expressed her frustration with the Rey’s lineage debate multiple times, “I love that Rey is such a great character, they’re like: ‘No, no, she has to be… she has to be-’She’s her own person! Let her be her guys, let her live."

Exactly! Why did people care so much? Maybe initially, it was fun to hypothesize. However, once the reveal came out people actually liked that she was fresh, a brand new start instead of just nostalgia, or, a way to continue on a males legacy. We have Ben Solo for that, or, at least we did.

More than a shocking twist created just to subvert expectations, the Rey “no one” reveal encapsulated The Last Jedi’s perfect message – anyone could be the hero of their own story.  Rey’s realization was that her heritage don’t matter ... all that matters is who she chooses to be now. Rey’s legacy didn't need to be defined by Luke or Leia, which would leave her free to start her own story - hell, Star Wars to have a future. On the other end was Ben/Kylo Ren, who did come from the mighty Skywalker family and hailed as the son of heroes and wanted to escape that legacy.

Then here comes JJ "Nostalgia Kind" Abrams and Chris Terrio. Terrio here “We also thought that Rey’s arc cannot be finished after Episode VIII. You can leave Episode VIII and say, “Well, now, Rey is content. She’s discovered her parents aren’t Skywalkers, or whatever, and that’s fine.” But so much of her personal story was about where she came from, what kept her on Jakku all those years and the trauma that shaped her. We see quite strongly in Episode VII that something mysterious and troubling happened to her. Although she did get some answers in Episode VIII, we didn’t feel that that story was over. We felt that there were still more questions in Rey’s head about where she came from and where she was going. So, that was the other big idea that we had to address in this film. Rian’s answer to, “What’s the worst news that Rey could receive?” was that she comes from junk traders, and that’s true. She does come from junk traders; we didn’t contradict that.” No, you just went back to what you wanted in the beginning.

By the end Rey takes on not only the Skywalker name but she looks over two suns which brings me to the point of this essay...... if Ben wasn't going to be there, then she should have taken last name. Rey Solo.

What's irritating about LucasFilm/Disney is their desire to appease everyone. I don't give a damn about the antis, nor should they. Reylos were a big support group for the films and mightily invested. TROS came off as trying to please everyone. If we really think about, with the exception of the end of Exegol, the Rey and Kylo interactions lacked depth and intimacy. Perhaps it's just not the style of JJ Abrams and Chris Terrio, who did support the pairing.

While I'm 100% convinced Reylo was planned, all the creators seemed very open to adjusting if it wasn't working. Hence why Finn and Poe were both open considerations, especially Finn. I don’t think Adam or Daisy intentionally played up any sexual tension in their scenes together to give us an impression about something in TFA.  I think it just happened.  Early bird Reylos picked up on it.  Some critics, including the one who wrote the TFA review for Time magazine, picked up on it. Rian Johnson picked up on it too and the rest is history.

Leia’s behavior's is odd for entire decades. Being a trained Jedi herself, she could have taught her son - instead she sent him to his uncle( Oh wait, that was a retcon). Han was either helping with the Resistance or off doing something shady. From the novels we learn that Ben heard his parents arguing and talking about him like he was a monster ever since he was a child, and that when he was sent away this seemed to confirm to him that something was wrong with him and had to be fixed. (From the novels we also learn that he actually had no ambition to become a Jedi and wanted to be a pilot - true Skywalker and also Solo that he is -, but he had no say in the matter.)

For both Ben and Rey, their journey is about letting go of childhood trauma and discovering their own independence. Ultimately it's about their pairing being both emotionally healing AND a balance in the force. They are a DYAD after all. I saw all this to say, he is her closest personal connection and impact through the 3 films. Leia is her master but we don't see that, it happened off camera.

Terrio says that the decision to have Rey take on the name “Skywalker” was a way to show that “you can choose your ancestry.” Which is not true and also a strange thing to say considering.

Which brings me to the correction of this tricky trail. Pay Adam Driver want he wants and reunite the dyad.

[sparrow-187]

I really can't understand why I haven't heard any explosive or even insidious love for Starfield.

I don't know shit about the companies or development or whatever, I just know "oh a new game came out and it's been a long while and NO ONE really talked about it..."

I've even seen a few posts saying "I haven't even heard about the side characters and that's a BAD sign Bethesda."

Well... I kinda gotta say, you REALLY should try the game.

I'll stray from spoilers as much as I can, but, let me put it this way.

Did you ever watch Firefly? Ever see that show? The feeling of home and family on a ship that's all your own? An expanse of stars and planets filled with people and work just for a star traveling explorer like you?

Want to MAKE your own ship? Your own weapons? Want to catalog minerals and fauna and flora for every planet you go to? Set up as many research bases as you can with raw materials you dug up yourself? Maybe even be a pirate or trader gliding through space and trading whatever valuables you find?

Then what if you capped off that adventure with multiverses? Seemingly alien powers and tech, that are just from another version of what you've called home all your life?

And along the way you happen to romance your own charismatic smooth talking swashbuckler? Or maybe an ex lawman with a broken family who's trying to be a single dad but still map the unknown for those that come after? Or even an ex soldier from a unification war who was just trying to do the right thing but found she got played and turned a new leaf?

Corporate espionage? Undercover police assignments? Work with trade organizations or steal from them?

Starfield has CONSTANTLY over the few days I've played it so far looked me in the eyes, asked me if I was cozy with life, then dropped a plot twist or surprise in my lap.

Play Starfield. My theory is that anyone who went to review the game, got sucked in and we just haven't heard from them in a long long time because they're still neck deep in their adventure.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Thanks for answering! Your advice is actually really helpful and now I'm pretty sold on a Toyota.

I do wonder though, I was one phonecall away from buying a 2019 yellow fiat panda cross but a sudden and dramatic financial change meant that I had to stick with my corsa. What's your opinion on this lil guy? The safety rating is abysmal but it definitely looks and feels like a rollercoaster to drive which was super fun! I'm still sad I couldn't have this car months later!

I've also heard the Pandas are fantastic little workhorses. Is this true?

I guess it is time to talk about the Panda, isn't it.

Fantastic little workhorses they most definitely are! The original Panda (which prevailing opinion sees as the only one to refer to by the nickname "Pandino") was produced pretty much unchanged from 1980 to 2003, and you most definitely see them all the time around here even after all these years. And in their prime? Forget it! Everyone has a story that involves a Pandino. My father's is my grandpa was teaching him to drive in one and the shifter came clean off and grandpa covered his eyes. Mine involves my ex's family which has a 4x4 Panda they only ever use to navigate the road between their little mountain town and their house, best described as five "there is actually no way we're not there yet"s up its side. I drove it, once, and recorded my thoughts. Here's a loose retelling:

In the phrase "The cabin is spartan" the most unfair word is "cabin". Although you do get a free rocking chair, in the form of the driver's seat. It's not like driving an 80s car, I own an 80s car, it's like driving an excavator - the steering wheel is super far away and the pedals are super close. If you long for that sensation of feeling the underside of a desk and stumbling into old gum, the steering wheel and shift knob will definitely do something for ya. Wiggling the shifter feels like you're making it come apart and slotting it into gear feels like sheer luck - to find something that engages more reluctantly than this reverse you've gotta look into child marriages. When you push the brake pedal, while you definitely get the impression that you are doing something to decrease the speed of the car, it feels like you're using the pedal wrong, the brakes feel like they're asking if you're really sure. The wiper, being a single wiper for the whole windshield, at anything past a drizzle moves in an endearingly hilarious frenzy. Dear God is it a deathtrap. It feels about as stable as our government. I defined it 'dynamic in its stillness' because it sure ain't shifting and yet it's in a constant state of falling apart, like the ISS orbit. It exudes the optimism and hopefulness for the future that defined the 80s. The optimism of designing a car with such care and then handing that design to Fiat. The optimism of pulling that handbrake on a hill. It's like nature. Admirable and fascinating in its design, but clearly fragile and unwelcoming.

And if you're wondering if the ex that supplied the Panda for the review is at all cool with my slander, yes, they were riding with and seconded most of it. The only thing they seemed upset by was my thoughts on the horn.

Follows the exchange "It's like a wounded dog" "You're a wounded dog" "I mean, the Panda is a wounded dog. Let's admit that."

Now, was it good to drive? I think we established otherwise. Was it good at not fogging up? No, as I was driving they had to keep slapping a rug against the windshield to clean it up. Was its metal good at staying undissolved enough for their use of the car to have any semblance of legality? Well why do you think they only use it in a stretch of road cops don't visit. But it keeps moving to this day. Because that's what Pandas are good at - keeping on moving. And that's what people buy Pandas for. You want a Panda because, whether you need to head years into the future, up a volcano, or both, the Panda will Just Fucken Go there. That's why you still see so many. Because there's still that many people in this country that just need to keep going, and the Panda has never stopped delivering on that front. That's what they mean by "fantastic little workhorses", and that's what I mean when I second that.

And I know in my heart that goes for the latest Panda too (seen here atop a volcano because indeed I was not joking) which I also drove (you know how they say that when Germans say "3" they mean "3:00" and when Italians say "3" they mean "3-ish"? Yeah the Panda's shifter definitely has the latter attitude towards gears. It out-vagues my 42yo Golf on 42yo shifter bushings.). In fact, if you look up "Is the Fiat Panda reliable?" the common consensus is that despite Fiat's... less than stellar reputation reliability-wise the Panda's not bad, but hilariously rather than because the things that normally break in other cars don't break or break less it seems to be because they just aren't there in the first place.

But don't get me twisted: the Panda's a good car. In a way, it's too entrenched in my country's identity, and by proxy my own, not to be. Nothing sums it up more succinctly than a saying of ours, "Italians good people". Of course - could we ever bring ourselves to believe otherwise? And no, beyond the blindness of national pride, the Panda genuinely has great efficiency -it's the bread of cars: basic, unimpressive, but boy do you ever get a lot for the ingredients- and as noted above It Just Keeps Going.

And at the end of the day, you know, I can harp about how it's not a nice car, how it feels cheap and unsubstantial, but anyone interested in a Panda is bound to know that going in, right? And at the end of the day, while it's easy to say for someone whose car's been doing fine, it's about what you like. After all, I sure didn't get myself the most reliable car I could find for my money. I got myself something that I liked.

And that I could afford, of course. Because you can't exactly get yourself a McLaren F1, can you.

I mean, you can't, right? I've been assuming your budget is within seven digits, but it's not like I have your tax returns, so what do I know.

Well actually I do know one thing: how we can combine the three. Because when friend of our blog Gordon Murray, a man so obsessed with lightness that he literally has an entire car collection and still owns no car over 2500lbs (~1130kg), was designing the greatest driver's car there had ever been (and 'accidentally' fastest production car for the following decade) with such care for low weight he would task Kenwood with developing a lighter sound system for it, he saw his neighbor's car and decided "That is too fucking cool, I don't care if it weighs more I've gotta do something like that with the F1." Which results in what you see above, a less cool version of what he saw that day.

And what did he see that day?

A four seat Toyota.

And if you've not yet spotted the part where this is cooler than the McLaren F1, well, look back at the F1's doors. Notice how their roof is plebeian, opaque metal? Pfft. Get outta here with that working class stuff and look at how the big kids do it.

Do I need to add further comment? I don't think I do.

And yes, one of these is for sale in England for under 5k.

And it has the pretty important roof shades, the rare super funky sound system and the floormats. Now, normally, I'd make the mistake of wondering who gives a shit about the floormats, but in the case of the Sera...

So, what are you waiting for? These come and go, so act quickly and impulsively!

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:Spice trader Cinnamon’s quiet life is turned upside down when she ends up on a quest with a fiery demon, in this irreverently quirky rom-com fantasy that is sweet, steamy, and funny as hell.   All she wanted to do was live her life in peace—maybe get a cat, expand the family spice farm. Really, anything that didn’t involve going on an adventure where an orc might rip her face off. But they say the goddess has favorites, and if so, Cin is clearly not one of them.   After Cin saves the demon Fallon in a wine-drunk stupor, Fallon reveals that all he really wants to do is kill an evil witch enslaving his people. And who can blame him? But now he’s dragging Cinnamon along for the ride whether she like it or not. On the bright side, at least he keeps burning off his shirt.…

Review:

A spice trader's life is turned upside down when she accidentally rescues a demon... who now needs her help to go on a quest and kill a fake goddess, just another day in the life. Cinnamon dreams about having a nice quiet life, yet all of that is chucked out the window when she accidentally saves a demon who then request her help in stopping an evil lich pretending to be a goddess. Cinnamon soon finds herself going on a quest, saving demons, fighting monsters, and dealing with the scariest quest of all, falling in love. Fallon is a charming handsome demon who is determined to win Cinnamon's heart. Together they make a really cute couple and this book was just a feel good fun read.

*Thanks Netgalley and Orbit Books, Orbit for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[nanshe-of-nina]

I remember reading a really snotty negative review of Titanic on Salon, years ago, that was super outraged that movie wasn't sufficiently respectful to the memory of John Jacob Astor because it introduced him in a "gossipy" way.

I remember thinking, "Cry moar" even at the time. Later, I found out the following about the Astors, which just solidified that feeling:

Much of the resentment toward the Astors in New York was driven by the fact that they were, in effect, the city’s biggest slumlords. The first John Jacob Astor, a butcher’s son from Baden who landed in New York in 1784, had left behind on his death in 1848 the largest fortune in the United States. Astor began as a fur trader but cashed in his fur company in the 1830s to buy up large parcels of New York real estate. “If I could live all over again,” he once said, “I would buy every square inch of Manhattan.” He very nearly succeeded—his son William would be known as “the landlord of New York” for his vast holdings in the city. The Astors preferred to lease out their land to others who would then return the improved real estate once the lease was up. This also spared the family the unpleasant business of collecting rents from the tenements that occupied many of their properties. Astor-owned hotels like the Waldorf-Astoria and the St. Regis put an elegant gloss on the hard fact that three-quarters of the family’s income came from rents derived from New York’s poorest neighborhoods. In this, the Astors and the White Star Line had something in common; the Olympic and the Titanic would never have been built without the lucrative transatlantic immigrant trade to fill their lower decks. The accommodations the Titanic offered its poorer passengers, however, bore no resemblance to the squalid, disease-ridden warrens that stood on Astor-owned properties. Descriptions of these by the crusading writer and photographer Jacob Riis in the 1890s had caused Colonel Astor to unload some of the worst of his holdings by 1900. (from Gilded Lives: Fatal Voyage by Hugh Brewster)

In any case, the Salon film critic's belief that the male passengers on Titanic all nobly and willingly sacrificed themselves for the lives of women and children is probably not completely true. One survivor (who's name I can't recall at the moment) seemed to think that many of the male passengers on the ship did not fully realize what kind of danger they were in until relatively late in the sinking, by which time most of the lifeboats were already gone.

And in any case, the fact is that the "women and children first/only" rule had to be enforced by the Titanic's officers at gunpoint. And there's a reason for that: a 2012 study that looked into shipwrecks since 1852 found that, with the exception of the Titanic, men are much more likely to survive them than either women or especially children.

[carabelajaronline]

Cara Daftar Komunitas Traders Family di Surabaya Jombang

[nfr-reviews]

NFR Reviews #5: Nanook of the North

Released 1922 / Inducted 1989

Watch film here

Director Robert Flaherty first came into contact with the Canadian Inuit through a series of prospecting expeditions funded by Sir William Mackenzie to size up the area’s potential for building railroads and mineral mines. His first attempt at a film on the Inuit ended in the negative burning up and him disregarding the surviving copy as bad and boring. The solution was to make a single composite character to illustrate an entire way of life that existed in the arctic landscapes east of the Hudson Bay. The original attempt failed due to lack of focus. Focusing on one person, or even one family, gives a feature-length film a consistent throughline for audiences to follow and connect to. However, constructing a character to represent a whole ethnic group runs the risk of the director’s biases getting in the way of responsible documentary filmmaking. 

The harsh conditions in which Nanook lives are almost as much a character as the people. The opening shot is of ice floes bobbing in water, and the final scene is a three-way edit between wind blowing over stark white plains, the family sleeping in an igloo, and snow-encrusted dogs guarding outside. According to the images on film, the lives of Nanook and his family are dominated by hard work to attain the basic needs of food and shelter. Several scenes are dedicated to hunting walrus, fish, seal, and fox; one sequence is the building of an igloo. Revillon Freres, a trading company who’d been active in the fur business since the 19th century, sponsored this movie! After the film, Nanook’s image was used in marketing to sell products disparate as rental cars, phonographs, and refrigerators. One Stillwell Auto Delivery car ad drew a comparison dividing him from the audience: “he can’t step into an auto and enjoy the wonderful scenery and boulevards of our Southland. But you can!’’ Allakariallak (Nanook’s real name) died two years after the film was released. Initial reports indicated starvation as the cause of death, but it was later revealed as tuberculosis, possibly brought by foreigners such as Flaherty.

The details of the hunt are where Flaherty starts veering off from truth. The Inuit had incorporated modern technology like rifles and boat motors into their lives by 1922, but the film’s version exclusively shows traditional methods of harpoons, spears, and paddles. In filming the walrus hunt scene, hunters begged Flaherty to use a rifle to help them, but he refused and kept the camera rolling until they killed the animal using older tools. This pattern bleeds into the non-hunting scenes. Film Nanook is amazed by a gramophone and bites into a record, while the real person already knew what it was. The outfits are outdated as well. The Inuit are portrayed as museum pieces frozen in time and unaffected by other cultures around them. Flaherty believed white men had pushed Inuit culture to near extinction, but didn’t put any examples of that in the movie in an attempt to save a vanishing culture he admired. He claimed to avoid the subject matter of the fur trade in order to have Revillon Freres as sponsor without an egregious conflict of interest. However, fur traders do appear in one scene to give Nanook’s child castor oil and show him the gramophone. 

Shaomik Inukpuk, manager of the town where the movie was filmed, found value in the sequences as education for both younger generations of the community and outsiders who knew nothing about the Inuit. It shows how things have changed in the last century, especially regarding the more nomadic lifestyles and colder climates of the past. Inuk throat singer Tanya Tagaq, while creating a soundtrack for the film, had mixed feelings: embarrassment and frustration with dated stereotypes, but also pride in seeing her ancestors’ resilience. In my opinion, showing traditional hunting methods isn’t an issue on its own, but showing both ways of hunting or even adding the full context in intertitles would’ve given audiences a more truthful portrayal. 

Its major innovations in documentary filmmaking also put the film into an uncanny valley by today’s standards: not intended to be a fictional film but too staged and manipulated to be a documentary, even down to the main character's name being changed. Possible reasons for the change from Allakariallak to Nanook included "nanuq" meaning “bear” and fitting a heroic hunter, a tribute to the practice of the Inuit nicknaming white people, or simply to make the title more marketable to white moviegoers. Much of nonfiction filmmaking’s earliest years consisted of pointing the camera at people or places and interfering as little as possible. Nanook evolved from the travelogue, a type of actuality showing foreign locations for audiences to vicariously experience without spending money on a vacation. While possibly not the first feature-length documentary, it proved the format could be a box-office hit. 

Flaherty included elements of fiction filmmaking into his documentary: a structured piece with a main character and side characters. There’s also the symbolism of one character representing a variety of Inuit with whom Flaherty interacted instead of being a single person. The “plot” is a mix of daily life and the conflict of survival in a desolate environment. Director bias was probably inevitable on some level. Even deciding what to film and what to edit into a movie creates a layer of it. The Nanook character had several different influences shaping what he’d be in the final film. The Inuit participants often watched footage and provided suggestions, but the film was also impacted by Flaherty’s own opinions and the pressure to create something widely marketable to non-Inuit audiences. Flaherty defended the inaccuracies by claiming “one often has to distort a thing in order to capture its true spirit.” However, the distortions form a pattern to portray the subjects as simplistic and unaware of technological change. In 1922, other parts of the world didn’t know much about the Inuit. While the film acted as an awareness-raiser, its lack of context and staged images had more power over audiences and spread misconceptions. Alternative and varied portrayals, especially ones that gave the Inuit more creative control, were harder to access in mainstream media. Nanook of the North popularized a then-unique structure for nonfiction moviemaking that blended in elements of fictional film to give viewers one focus character to get invested in. However, it was also necessary for the medium to innovate past this to avoid making the same mistakes. 

Sources

https://www.documentary.org/feature/100-year-stain-nanook-north

https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/42-nanook-of-the-north

https://www.catalystplanet.com/travel-and-social-action-stories/the-first-documentary-or-an-utter-falsehood-nanook-of-the-north

https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Nanook_of_the_North

https://nunatsiaq.com/stories/article/inukjuak-celebrates-nanook-of-the-norths-100th-anniversary/

https://www.abdn.ac.uk/staffpages/uploads/enl333/Marcus_2006a.pdf

https://mspace.lib.umanitoba.ca/server/api/core/bitstreams/767ccb7a-5093-4619-b2c5-41962dad8be7/content

https://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+story+of+Revillon+Freres.-a0468851961

https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/inuk-throat-singer-tanya-tagaq-on-reclaiming-nanook-of-the-north-1.2508581

[eva-reviews]

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming -- A Review

Trigger Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, decapitation, mentions of sexual harassment, BDSM, dubcon, sexually explicit content, kink exploration, mentions of drowning, mentions of death of a child, alcohol use, mentions of drug abuse, slavery, corrupt religion, cult, misogyny.   

My Rating 

7.5/10. I had so much fun reading this book. The adventure, the sex and the comedy. It was all so good, but there were a few awkward and/or cringy moments. I personally hate it when there is stuttering in a book. It takes me right out of it. I have suffered through my own many years of poorly written 2010s Wattpad fanfics (please understand this is not saying this is a Wattpad-level story, nor am I saying that Wattpad stories themselves are bad). I did find it to be a little vanilla and there could have been more sex scenes. This being said, sometimes you need to settle down with a cheesy, smutty book over the weekend.

Overview

Cinnamon Hotpepper lives in the small town of Boohail as your typical spice farmer. Destruction strikes when the handsome demon Fallon stumbles into her life one night, with the intent to kill the evil witch keeping his kind captive and enslaved in her grasp. Dragging Cin along on an unwanted adventure when all she wants is to live in peace on her family's farm. At least the handsome demon can’t keep his shirt on.   

My Thoughts 

The humour in this book was so good, it felt so easy and genuine. I find that some books try to be funny, but it can feel forced and not genuine. I thought it was so funny when Fallon attempted to kill someone and when Cin would bring it up he would just shrug and say “Semantics”. Just the way that he would deadpan answers was so comedic to me. 

This is the first real book that has smut. I normally just read fanfiction smut instead of real published novels. It was good smut, however, I was expecting it to be more dirty. It was pretty tame, but it was enjoyable. It says at the beginning of the book that it is light BDSM, but I didn't realize it would be so light. It was mostly just binding her hands. Still hot, but I was hoping for some more. 

I loved all the characters. Especially Felix, he really felt like an annoying best friend. With the accidental cock-blocking, the teasing, and his desire to know all the dirty details. After Cin and Fallons sexy night, Cin is imminently bombarded with questions from all of her new girl friends, with Felix slipping in and saying “Well, as Lichbane’s first demon friend, I call best-friend privileges, and I want to hear all the details … Spill” (pg. 174) 

I loved the inclusion of the centaur, Holly. But I wished she had more depth, especially romantically. It was very nice, as a queer person, for her to outright say “Oh no, dear, I like women” (pg. 174). Sure, it is something so simple but just to have it said so plainly and just accepted is very nice to see. I do wish she had a girlfriend or found a girl attractive, I would have liked to see that. There is two more books, so I am hoping she shows up there.

As we went into the last battle, I loved the cool dragons. I mean, who doesn't love dragons right?! The battle between Cin and Myva was so fun, with Myva being a lich (one of the coolest fictional monsters) I loved the bubbling goo and the skeletons she could control. I do wish it was a little more graphic, but Fallon's decapitating someone certainly helped with that.  

Conclusion

Despite my criticisms, I did enjoy this book. I mean, I finished it in 2 days. The stuttering and Cin’s odd obsession with cheese is certainly not for everyone, but if you are looking for a cozy, adventure, smutty, slightly cheese rom-com, then this is definitely for you. Sometimes you need an overly dramatic demon and a quirky spice trader who takes food very seriously.

[writingmylifesstory]

Book Review

spoilers present

Crescent City by Sarah J. Maas

⭐️⭐️⭐️

I picked up this book and was immediately slapped in the face with so much world building it felt like I was reading a different language.

And hey, some Tolkien people might be into that. But me, I want my books easy.

After accepting that I will never fully grasp what the heck is going on in this Zootopia fanfic, I decided to press on and I thought Connor was really sweet…and then he was immediately dead and in pieces. What an opener, ok I’m hooked.

Danika may not be physically present in this book a lot but she is a super annoying main character. Please someone resurrect this girlie so she can stop hovering over everyone like the ghost of Rebecca de Winter.

Bryce is fine as THE main character- our recovering party girl who needs to grow up fast and save the world. Her man, Hunt, bored me at first (my friends say this is because he didn’t start off being mean to her like the other Maas leading men, what can I say I like an enemies to lovers arc??) The more he talked about his dead lover, Shahar, the more I felt jealous FOR Bryce.

But I did find Ruhn (Crown Prince of the Valbaran fae) and Hypaxia interesting. Kind of wish they were a thing. I also liked Jesiba as a character. And I adore Tharion.

But my favorite was hands down our cat Prince of Hel, Aidas.

The Bone Quarter, itself, is such an interesting take. Like imagine all your dead loved ones are chilling on some island that you can see- like you can see them walking around in the mists. You would have no fear of death. It’d be like taking a trip to Trader Joe’s- no real mystery. I don’t think this is talked about enough. Like wouldn’t everybody be 1000 percent more dare devilish, cause who cares? You just take a little boat ride on over to your other friends and family.

The plot twist of Danika and the pack ripping themselves to shreds due to synth was brutal.

Hunt finally gets a little bit interesting when he plays traitor and gets thrown in prison. Him being taunted by his happy pics with Bryce sticks out in my memory.

Lehabah’s sacrifice and speech was 10/10. Danika sacrificing the last remnant of her soul to save Bryce was also 10/10 (although I’m adamant she’s coming back somehow)

Bryce vacuuming up the arch angel was unique. Oh, there’s a magical horn in her back now? There’s just a lot going on.

Not my favorite Maas series, but I’m trying.

[oursunkencity]

Afrofuturism! :]

Hi-Hello, and welcome back to Our Sunken City!

It has been a while since I posted, but I’m back! This time, I am focusing on Afrofuturism, as I am taking a course with Tananarive Due! I honestly did not know what to expect in this class, as I did not have a concrete understanding of what exactly Afrofuturism is. However, after two weeks of reviewing television shows (e.g., Black Panther on B.E.T), musical artists (e.g., Sun Ra, George Clinton, Janelle Monáe, Lil Nas X), authors (e.g., Tananarive Due, Octavia E. Butler), and short films (e.g., Pumzi, Space Traders), I feel like I have a general understanding. 

When asked by my family, friends, and classmates, I shared how Black Panther is a great starting point for explaining Afrofuturism, as most people have seen the movie or at least heard of it. Musicians, writers, and artists are able to tell their stories placed in the future of the current racial and economic struggles and injustices as they point out the blatant flaws in the world. In their science fiction stories, the allegories and metaphors highlight problems and inspire solutions that create an alternative world worth living in. 

Black people in America have a dark past that was constructed through slavery and racism. These futurist stories can be thought of as a form of escapism from the current state of affairs. Why live in the present when I am hated for the color of my skin when I can dream up a colorful, technologically-driven future with all these cool futurist elements and things that can delete the struggles of the now? Okay, maybe not delete it because the stories and music we’ve reviewed have not ended well, but I would like to think there will be one in the near future in this class that will leave me smiling… or at least I hope so. 

To expand on the futurist stories, I have referenced episode three of Black Panther, which aired on B.E.T. In the episode, Black Panther was invited to a meeting with the “big timers” of world leaders and was asked if he would sell vibranium to them as it is an invaluable resource of energy. Black Panther declines as he emphasizes the constant chase for profits that has led to a lack of progression in the U.S. and other countries. Rather than cure diseases, there are temporary solutions that are placed in high regard with the intention of making money off the sick. He highlights how if there were more emphasis on the well-being of their citizens, then they would have already had the resources needed. I think this episode is such a great example of the Afrofuturism that I have come to know and love. 

I am excited to see what else we dive into. With that said, I am signing off, and I will see y’all next time!