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mariacallous · 9 months

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As if Coca-Cola gave up making soft drinks, the Taliban announced to great fanfare last year that they were getting out of the drug business. The group that rode big opium profits to a takeover of Afghanistan in the summer of 2021 suddenly, seemingly, swore off the stuff. Poppy planting was banned and drugs were off the menu. Or that, at least, is what they want the world to believe.

And they actually are—sort of. Satellite images seem to show a sharp decline in poppy acreage and methamphetamine manufacture since Taliban Supreme Leader Haibatullah Akhundzada announced his ban on producing and trading drugs in April 2022. Some Western officials, diplomats, and analysts see it as a welcome counternarcotics move, achieving with a simple decree what billions of dollars in U.S.-funded programs couldn’t do in two decades.

In reality, though, the Taliban haven’t changed their stripes—just their product. The drugs trade was estimated to account for up to 14 percent of Afghanistan’s GDP last year, according to the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC). If new figures from the UNODC are to be believed, that’s about to get a lot higher.

The Taliban didn’t curtail the drug trade. They cornered it. And then they branched out. What the Taliban did with heroin was stand on the hose, driving up prices. Since Akhundzada’s decree—which did not apply until this year—opium prices have skyrocketed, rising a hundredfold in local markets in eastern and southern Afghanistan, the main growing regions. Seizures of heroin and meth are up, from Australia to India, the Gulf, Central Asia, and at European ports like Rotterdam, in the Netherlands, and Antwerp, in Belgium. Experts say the one-year lag between the decree’s announcement and enforcement gave producers and traffickers time to boost output and stockpiles, while stoking fears of a looming shortage that’s driven an inflationary panic-buying frenzy.

The Taliban are to heroin and meth what the Sinaloa cartel is to cocaine. Southeast Asia still makes a bit, but otherwise, Afghanistan has a stranglehold on the $55 billion-a-year heroin trade. Drug lord Bashir Noorzai, who was a major war financier and a close associate of the supreme leader, was greeted as a hero when he returned to Afghanistan last year upon early release from a life sentence in U.S. prison for heroin smuggling, swapped for an American hostage. Afghan sources say he is back in business.

But the Taliban are upscaling. While they had dabbled—and quite extensively—with meth in the past, they used plant-based precursors. But that takes labor. What’s easier, cheaper, quicker, and more profitable is chemical-based meth.

The UNODC annually assesses Afghanistan’s poppy acreage, opium yield and prices, and heroin production, though since the Taliban regained power, access and visibility, like the reports, are hamstrung. What does seem apparent is that the Taliban have cut down on poppy production. Recent satellite images provided by Alcis show a dramatic reduction in poppy planting. Anecdotal evidence from on-the-ground reporting backs up statements by Alcis researchers that poppy planting could have fallen by as much as 99 percent in some areas.

Afghan journalist Mirwais Khan said his sources in the southern Helmand province, where much of the country’s supply of heroin is sourced, tell him that poppy planting is close to zero for the current season. In the markets, he said, prices have surged from 30,000 Pakistani rupees, or about $100 a kilo a year ago, to 520,000 rupees. (Opium is priced in Pakistani rupees.) Last month, RFE/RL reported opium markets in Helmand and Kandahar operating as usual and said traffickers had amassed “strategic stockpiles” to take advantage of high prices.

Hans-Jakob Schindler, senior director of the Berlin- and New York-based Counter Extremism Project, doesn’t believe the ban is genuine, let alone long-term. He regards it as an attempt to maximize profits while lulling the international community into recognizing the Taliban. Or it’s a diversification play.

“If I was a Talib, I’d be getting into meth,” Schindler told Foreign Policy. The raw material for plant-based methamphetamine, ephedra, grows wild in Afghanistan. The Taliban have cracked down on that, too. But the drug can be synthesized simply and cheaply with easily acquired precursor chemicals and cooked in labs that are almost undetectable on satellite imagery. The costs and returns are many times that of heroin.

“They can ramp up meth production. You can tell [on satellite photos], but you have to know what you’re looking for, and at. It will be much harder to prove,” as the labs often look like any other building, Schindler said.

The UNODC agrees, with an assessment released on Sunday describing the illegal manufacture of meth in Afghanistan as a “growing threat” that is “changing illicit drug markets traditionally focused on the trafficking of opiates from Afghanistan.” Chemical precursors have become the main ingredient, the report said, derived from legally available sources like cold medicine or bulk industrial ephedrines that are smuggled into Afghanistan year-round. One kilogram of pure meth can be produced from less than 2 kilos of industrial ephedrine, compared to 200 kilos of ephedra plant that have to be harvested and prepared by human beings who like to get paid.

The Taliban have been moving into meth for some years, building markets by including it in shipments of heroin. Australian media has reported huge seizures of Afghan meth, sent through the mail from Pakistan to motorcycle gangs that dominate the trade. Compared to heroin, a little goes longer, and the UNODC report shows the Taliban are trading it to every corner of the world.

As industrial-scale manufacture of chemical drugs ramps up, the biggest losers are Afghanistan’s farmers, who languish at the bottom of the economic pyramid, among the poorest people in one of the world’s most indigent countries. For decades, they’ve been Taliban serfs, forced to grow poppies to help fund the war against the Western-backed Afghan state. The Taliban provided inputs, including seeds and fertilizer. Farmers found themselves in a debt trap they could and did pay off at times by fighting for the Taliban against Afghan and international coalition forces.

News footage of lathi-armed goon squads destroying poppy fields is a déjà vu of failed counternarcotics programs during the past two decades, which at least offered farmers alternatives, like growing wheat or saffron. Insurgent suicide bombers would destroy seed distribution centers, and Taliban operatives would sometimes even kill farmers who tried to make the switch. The U.S. Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction reported that the U.S. government spent, between 2002 and 2017, about $8.6 billion on counternarcotics efforts. Opium remained Afghanistan’s largest cash crop.

But wheat and other crops are just not a viable option. “If they grow grain, they will starve,” Schindler said, as Afghan farmers need cash crops to cover their costs. A long-term drought has cut their ability to grow food. If the ban continues, many men will be forced off the land to look for work elsewhere, adding to the huge numbers of internally displaced and, potentially, to the numbers flooding out of the country—to Pakistan, Iran, and beyond—in search of work.

Little farmers and big landowners both stand to lose from the continued ban, even if that was the endgame of all those years of U.S. and international efforts. Akhundzada seems to have put his prestige on the line with the ban, regardless of the collateral damage.

“The economic shock and human suffering will continue and worsen as long as the ban is implemented,” warned William Byrd, an expert on Afghanistan at the U.S. Institute of Peace.

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the-firebird69 · 1 month

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there's a few other things going on and around Charlotte county too in addition to what we're going to announce

-there's some kind of row between Trump and then aka Dave and people know what it is now. It is a great deal of disgusting things and one that cannot be forgiven and they understand Dave now they also follow it's not his fault is this a****** father of this and it's Trump and the kids serve being killed by their father and they actually do need help with it and they didn't come with it and a lot of people want that Trump and they really want him batteries in the robots are puts the problem and the robots are going to be fully autonomous no place for his kids or even clones so he's doing that and his armies and are taking over the robots and his prime clones are being killed and soon they will be at Trump it's massive news and real

Thor Freya

Olympus

My husband looked over at him sort of in space and said holy poop you're going to go and Trump is upset but yeah that's what it means he's a dead man and his prime phones are going to all time they all look like Charles Manson and Stephanopoulos is upset you said you were exposed us for the computer and robot plan now you're going to die it's just such a jerk... and really it's on between them. And my husband says I'm a young person and this is really that guy should never have been here and stuff it up with some breeze and Dave and Terry cheesman. It says just because people can't speak to you it doesn't mean that you're doing anything fabulous Trump you're a freaking moron you should see in court how many mistakes you're making since adding up what is that you don't understand your appeal is going to run out and the other is the massive appeal that you dumbass put in to the Superior Court supreme Court areas is exposing you you're going to be brought to trial for treason cuz you're such a hose bag it's terrible your stuff is so far off it's like a little kid getting put in I put in a court it's true to your clueless and people see you're stupid and slow and abusing the lawyers they hate you there's one for you today send you down but you're going to do that at Titan soon too people say they think it's a lot sooner than others think all these other people have this weird s*** hapen to them that your feet is your clothes we'll be going after your stuff and everyone else of your clan including different clothes will be attacking them Jesus Christ the ShakeOut starts at your own people that are so dumb and very rare you're an idiot you shouldn't even be here looking at these stupid f*** how you f****** stupid

My husband says that last fight for this a****** has been trying to annoy him from sleep and food and stuff and he's knocked the s*** on himself and he fell asleep in court LOL

Hera

There's a lot of stuff happening that was Hera and we were the top part above her statement and she is a wonderful person and got this out so we're going to publish

Thor Freya

Olympus

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cksmart-world · 11 months

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SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

June 27, 2023

EVOLUTION: WHY WOMEN HAVE BAD TASTE IN MEN

Hey Wilson, have you ever seen a nice woman with a total creep? Happens all the time, right. You look over and say, what is she doing with that knuckle-dragger? It must be one of nature's constants — otherwise the human race would simply dry up and blow away. And so that rotten DNA just keeps getting perpetuated and we end up with guys like Jim Jordan, the Ohio congressman who must be a descendent of Dr. Mengele, the Nazi who experimented on death camp prisoners. Notice we've never seen a picture of Mrs. Jordan. Speaking of which, why don't we ever see the wife of Gov. Spencer Cox? Just sayin'. OK, take for example Melania Trump. No, wait. Forget it. We can't go there without professional psychological guidance. Too twisted. True 'nuff, people don't always hook up for the right reasons. What did Ava Braun see in Adolf Hitler — not his mustache-thing. Why did Imelda Marcos marry Ferdinand — lust for shoes? How come bon vivant Eva Peron glued herself to Juan — don't cry for me, Argentina. You've probably had friends like Bill and Hillary Clinton — why is she with that whoremonger, sleaze bag. Gawd. And then there are women like Mrs. Mike Lee who must wake up every morning thinking something like: Help me Jesus, I'm totally screwed.

CLASSIFIED DOCUMENTS AND SPANDEX PILATES PANTS

Ever have to move out real fast and then later can't find your stuff. Where are the golf shoes? Tennis racquets? Tax returns? Classified documents? It happens. That's why many Fox News viewers can sympathize with former President Donald Trump when he explained he had to keep several hundred boxes of stuff — that included plans on how to invade Iran, NATO's vulnerabilities etc. etc. etc. — along with jockey shorts, support hose and MAGA hats — cartons of classified documents piled into bathrooms, banquet halls and Melania's lingerie closet. “I had to go through all those boxes before I gave them back (to the Federal Archives and Records Administration),” Trump told Fox's Bent Baier in an interview. “I had to separate all my things out and I'm kinda busy, you know.” When Baier pressed the former president on the issue, he said, “It was all declassified, my boxer shorts, my spandex pilates workout pants, everything.” But what about the subpoena, Baier asked. “Look,” Trump said, “the subpoena was for documents — those weren't documents, they were socks and underwear. You can't subpoena socks and underwear.” But you were caught on tape saying they were top secret. “Yes, that's right, top secret — top secret spandex pilates pants. Not documents, damnit. Cryin' out loud.”

LIFETIME APPOINTMENT TO LUXURY VACATIONS

Oh thank God none of the U.S. Supreme Court Justices were aboard the Titan submersible that imploded last week while on a tourist voyage to the the wreck of the Titanic in the North Atlantic. Still, when it comes to the Supremes anything is possible — “Supreme Court Implodes.” In the wake of a report by ProPublica, conservative Justice Samuel Alito may be wishing he'd signed up for the deep dive. Alito went on a luxury fishing trip to Alaska on the private jet of hedge fund manager Paul Singer. Oops, he somehow forgot to report the trip on his annual financial disclosure and — surprise — did not recuse himself from cases involving Singer's hedge fund. No big deal, Alito explained in the Wall Street Journal, because if you use a seat that would have otherwise been empty, it doesn't count. No Wilson, we are not making this up. This comes on the heels of revelations that conservative Justice Clarence Thomas received luxury travel over years from billionaire Harlan Crow. He didn't report it because, according to Thomas, if the person doing the bribing is your friend then it doesn't count. Alito and Thomas could have run afoul of the high court's Ethics and Code of Conduct but — wait for it — it doesn't have one. So, King's X you bitches — e pluribus unum and up yours.

Post script — Alright, that was the week that was here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of Russian revolutions so you don't have to. Not to make light of the chaos in Russia, Wilson, but it is kinda refreshing when the hot mess is in someone else's country for a change. Think about it, for two whole days we didn't hear about Marjorie Taylor Greene, Lauren Boebert and the rest of the Republican whack jobs in Washington who are fighting over how to impeach President Joe Biden. Well, not so fast, we did have Speaker Kevin McCarthy's pledge to impeach Attorney General Merrick Garland for not jailing Hunter Biden — the president's war-criminal son — for tax evasion. And speaking of Hunter Biden conspiracies, the Republican senator from Tennessee, Marsha Blackburn, contends that news of the missing Titan submersible was timed to distract from the release of IRS whistleblower testimony criticizing the DOJ's investigation of the president's son. And that ain't all — Maria Bartiromo of Fox-News fame maintains the threatened coup in Russia was part of an elaborate scheme to shift attention away from Hunter Biden's guilty plea on two tax misdemeanors. Well of course, why else would Wagner mercenary forces turn against Putin. Crazy? No it's MAGA — same difference.

Well Wilson, maybe it's time we give women their due. After all, they have to wake up to that hairball next to them every morning and make the best of it. Then they have to go to work and get more of the same, if not worse, from their sex-starved bosses. So tell the guys in the band to straighten up and play something respectful for the people who make the world go 'round:

What you want/Baby, I got it What you need/Do you know I got it? All I'm askin'/Is for a little respect When you come home/Hey, baby

(just a little bit) When you get home (just a little bit) I ain't gonna do you wrong/While you're gone Ain't gonna do you wrong/'Cause I don't wanna All I'm askin'/Is for a little respect When you come home/Baby (just a little bit) When you get home/Yeah (just a little bit) Ooh, your kisses/Sweeter than honey And guess what?/So is my money All I want you to do for me Is give it to me when you get home (re, re, re ,re)/Yeah, baby/(re, re, re ,re) When you get home, now (respect, just a little bit) R-E-S-P-E-C-T Find out what it means to me

R-E-S-P-E-C-T Take care, TCB Oh (sock it to me, sock it to me Sock it to me, sock it to me) A little respect (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) Whoa, babe/(just a little bit) A little respect/(just a little bit)

Yeah, baby

(Respect —Aretha Franklin)

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zamoimagines · 4 years

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Seeing Your Toxic Ex in Public Headcanons (Sarah Characters)

A/N: The writers block is real and it’s because I’m going through a lot. Let’s be real, I’m still mad about what I went through and I wanna know how these bitches would act. I’m sure ya’ll get where I’m coming from. So let’s jump into this one.

Billie Dean Howard

Billie is first and foremost a lady. If she has beef with someone, she makes sure that she outwits her competition. Not like your ex qualified as actual competition to her. When you two ran into your ex at a party, Billie snaked her arm around your waist and pulled you close almost to protect you. They’d try to introduce themselves with a handshake, but Billie would completely ignore the gesture. She’s something along the lines of “Oh, that’s you. Yes, I have plenty knowledge about you to have a structured opinion.” When your ex would ask to talk to you privately, Billie wouldn’t hesitate to speak on your behalf, “Actually, Y/N can’t speak with you. We really must get going so we can speak to people who are worth our time. Good day... Whatever your name is.” As you two walked off, you’d tell Billie how bad ass she was and she’d make sure to press a kiss to your forehead. “Just wanted them to know that you’ve upgraded. It’s as simple as that.”

Lana Winters

Lana can be polite when she needs to be. This wasn’t one of those instances. You and Lana often shared cute cafe dates where she’d bounce writing ideas to you, and you’d work on your own stuff. It was a surprise that your ex had walked in that day and stopped directly at your table. Lana could see how uncomfortable you were to know who it was. She stopped them mid sentence as they tried to speak and simply said, “If you don’t leave within the next five seconds, I will place a restraining order on you without hesitation. I suggest you leave us be.” They would try to protest and Lana would simply stand to look them dead in the eye, “I don’t think you want to deal with the hell that will rain down upon you if you keep trying to push your luck. Leave.” They’d comply, Lana would sit back down and would take your hands into her own and ask if you were okay. When you’d thank her for protecting you, she would reply with a wink “No one messes with my girl.”

Cordelia Goode

Pissing Cordelia off was rare, but it was always on another level bc this bitch has literal magic to use against people. A simple date to the local greenhouse garden took an unexpected turn when you noticed your ex from across the way. You wouldn’t tell Cordelia why, but you just insisted that it was time to go. “What do you mean, honey? We just got here-” But then she’d look in the direction you had and would know immediately. She’d glance back to you with a wide smile. “Watch this.” she’d whisper to you before flicking her wrist in one sharp movement. A hose from beneath where your ex was standing erupted upward and completely soaked them. They quickly left angrily as the hose almost seemed to follow them out of the damn store and employees were trying to tackle it. The Supreme would smile when she’d see your smile and would shrug, “Problem solved. Now, help me pick out some flowers for the dining room.”

Bette and Dot Tattler

Bette and Dot are complete opposites majority of the time. Dot was definitely much more confrontational than her sister. Though Bette became vicious when it came to your ex. You’d gone to their show to cheer them on and even went backstage to give them a bouquet of flowers when your ex showed up to tell the twins what a big fan they were of them. Bette would give them a wide smile and in a pretty southern drawl would reply, “Awe, that’s very sweet of ya since we’re most definitely not fans of you.” Your ex would be confused by those words as Dot’s lips pressed into a malicious grin. “My sister’s right. Besides, you can’t be a fan, I’ve never seen you at any other damn show. You’re here to prove a point but here’s the thing-”, Bette would finish her sister’s sentence, “We’re twice the lover you are and Y/N is much happier with us than she ever was with you!” They’d be a little flustered with such a callout, but Dot would fix it up right quick and say “Best be on your way now. And don’t come back.”

Sally McKenna

THIS CRAZY BITCH does not hesitate. You two were just strolling the halls of the hotel when you saw your ex rolling in a luggage. Sally got a weird vibe from this one, and by looking at the expression on your face, she could tell something was wrong. You’d whisper to her that the person was your ex. She’d reply with, “You mean the one that hurt you?” You’d nod to confirm. That was a big mistake. One minute, her fingers were interlaced with yours, and then they were ripped away as she nearly ran at them. She’d start pushing them and would yell at the top of her lungs, “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” You’d try to stop her, but she’d keep going and would keep pushing them, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY DAMN HOTEL BEFORE I SEW YOU IN TO A FUCKING MATTRESS YOU PIECE OF HOT FUCKING GARBAGE!” The interaction would be so intense that your ex would sprint out of the hotel and never come back. This bitch doesn’t play around.

Audrey Tindall

Audrey could be a bitch when she wanted to be. She was a diva after all. You’d come to an award show to watch Audrey win another acting award in which you were incredibly proud of her. You just hadn’t been expecting for your ex to pop out of nowhere during the afterparty. Audrey would be the bitch that would call security the moment she saw them, and when they would try to insult her, she’d reply with, “How does it feel then? To know that you let go of such a wonderful woman who ended up with someone rich and famous rather than with a lowlife such as yourself? Must sting a little, hm?” Then security would drag your ex away. Audrey would give you a wide smile and hook her arm around your own. “I think a drink sounds nice, don’t you, darling? I’m thinking a fruity cocktail would lift our spirits.”

Ally Mayfair-Richards

You knew how busy Ally was between her campaign and trying to run the restaurant all on her own, so you decided to drop her off a coffee and a donut before you went to run errands. When you walked in, you weren’t expecting to see your ex sitting at a table near the front. You tried to avoid them and immediately went to Ally’s office to calm yourself. Someone told Ally that you were there so naturally she went to her office to find you. “Hey, beautiful. Couldn’t keep away from me, could you-” But she stopped as she saw you hyperventilating. Immediately, she asked you what was wrong and you explained. In a full rage, Ally left the office and went straight to the table your ex was at. “Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Your ex would try to protest, but Ally would cut them off, “You know exactly why you’re not welcome here. Get the hell out of my restaurant.” Your ex would be escorted out by the wait staff as Ally made her way back to her office to wrap you in a big hug to let you know that everything was alright.

Wilhemina Venable

The person you’d definitely wouldn’t wanna piss off is fucking Venable. That should be a given. Despite her cold hearted tendencies, she was the most deadly when someone tried to hurt someone she loved. Leisurely strolls throughout the local art museum were a usual date for the two of you. Most of the time it was peaceful. This time happened to be different, for you quite literally bumped into your ex on accident. They immediately introduced themselves to Mina, though she wasn’t phased whatsoever. She knew exactly who they were. She’d push you to stand behind her as she towered over your ex. “How dare you hurt her in such a way. And now you introduce yourself to me acting as if I wouldn’t know the turmoil you have caused? If you don’t leave now, I will harm you in ways you could’ve never imagined and you will know what true pain feels like.” She was fuckin terrifying, your ex didn’t give a second thought to fleeing immediately. Mina would then hook arms with you in a protective manner and say, “Stay close to me, darling. I’ll keep you safe.”

REQUEST MORE HERE!

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inventors-fair · 3 years

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Hexample Design: Innistrad Multicolor Judge Cards ~

Let’s go through some stuff:

I started with a simple top-down UB zombie trope with Stench of the Living, where someone enters a room, but oh no, surprise, everyone is undead, and they’re next. Easy enough! Mechanically, the sacrifice getting rid of fresh flesh can be used in combat as a trick or as a general removal, working with or without zombies on board. Sometimes the smell is enough to drive us away.

@3smuth utilized phasing’s deciduous nature to bring us Festival of Bones. (Huh, I’m just noticing that three of these are __ of __ cards. Coincidental!) The spooky scary skeletons create a strange boneyard combat methodology for getting rid of the fleshy creatures and also for removing tokens. It would presumably be a unique card in the set, but it gives a pseudo-wipe among other odd sacrificial mentalities until those skeletons head out.

@naban-dean-of-irritation rose up with Rise of Dawn’s Defiance, a catharian burn spell that reworks the day/night mechanic into a brutal Aurelia’s Fury-kind of card. It works as a regular boardwipe but utilizes the nature of drafting RW to also sometimes hose an opponent’s monstrous board. The fact that it only hits creatures prevents it from burning out the face, but the ability to make it day at instant-speed is amazingly strong.

@mistershinyobject brings us lastly to Twisted Oak, a return to simplicity in the UG graveyard-matters-flashback shell. Getting the things you want back as an on-curve blocker having milled and used some powerful flashback cards allows this to sit nicely in its slot and defend away. I like the way that this card feels in the world, and I like its simplicity.

What are some takeaways for this, and what are some things that I’d like to caution about?

You can lean into either story tropes or general horror tropes, as long as they feel sufficiently Innistradian. There aren’t any big cities or technological transport systems here. It’s a place of common worship and almost medieval peace.

Commons are more than welcome, and I wish I had a better one to design. There are only three card types and two rarities here, and just to be clear, an elegant design can surpass all the flashy barriers as long as it’s done right. You don’t have to make something supremely competitive or Commander-bait oriented.

What does Innistrad mean to you? What parts of the world do you love? Lean into those places of intrigue and do them justice mechanically as best you can. Picture the card as you would be playing it. I want to feel the emotional weight.

That’s all for now, folks! - @abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #tuesday blog #example design #inventor's fair #innistrad multicolor contest

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

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Home- Chapter 7 (Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x F!Oc)

A/N: School: Must do a two page essay.

Me: I can’t do iiiiit

Also me: Write a fanfic of 2,491 words. WUUUUUUU

Words: 2,491

Masterlist

Chapter 6

"Enough!"

I breathe hard and open my eyes. I'm back in the black room, on my knees near the bathroom door. I turn back and Kylo is also on the ground. His face is covered in sweat

"What was that?" I say in a whisper. "Did you see it too?”

Kylo doesn't take his eyes off me and nods slowly. Then he shakes his head, stands up, and leaves the room without saying anything.

I stay on the floor for a moment, but my leg starts to hurt, so I get up and go to the bathroom. I don't understand what just happened and it's even more confusing that it connected with Kylo. I shake my head and bring my hands to my hair pushing it away from my face, I look around.

"Is everything black?" I whisper when I see the shower, I snort at the color selection.

On the far wall is the sink and above it is a mirror, I bite my lip. I dare not go closer and see my reflection, I know that my face is disgusting. I go to the shower and press a button so that the water begins to come out, I wait for the temperature to regulate while I take off my clothes very carefully and enter the jet of water, luckily the patches that cover my wounds are waterproof, or I hope so, because I didn't think about it before.

After a few minutes, I leave the bathroom wrapped in a towel and walk to the closet, from which I take some light pants, a simple blouse and some shoes... all black. I look at some drawers and grab underwear, ignoring the thought that want to enter my brain about Kylo choosing those clothes.

After getting dressed, I sit in the middle of the bed, my eyes fixed on the door.

That memory, back at the temple… I was 8 years old, I had only been training for a couple of months. The only other person besides Luke I was talking to was Ben, even though we weren't close friends yet, we actually got together to avoid the other students.

A lot of time has passed. We are not the same people. Is he also thinking the same? It was strange…

I haven't been in connection with the force in a while, maybe the return to the forest caused this, maybe everything is out of control inside me and Kylo was close, so he could see the same as me. An accidental connection.

I growl, I don't like being lost in all this Jedi and Sith stuff, strength, balance, I feel like the first days of training.

The hours pass and without realizing it, my body falls into the comfort of the bed and I fall asleep. All the weight of the days of torture, the "chat" with Snoke, the connection disappears for a few hours.

What wakes me up is the door being opened by a little droid. I sit down and rub my eyes as I yawn. The droid checks my wounds and leaves a tray of food and water. I watch all its movements in silence until it finishes and it approaches the door, but before leaving, it raises a robotic arm towards a box and it lights up.

I frown, hadn't noticed there was a datapad. The machine presses buttons and the door opens and closes when you are outside. An idea crosses my head.

But before I can do something, I eat what it has brought me, I can’t waste any food. I put everything in its place and walk slowly towards the datapad, I slide my finger on the screen from one side to the other, but it only allows me to enter the options to ask for food, clothes or help the droids. I groan. Sure, it shouldn't be easy to get out of this stupid and boring room, but there must be some way.

I look down and see some hope, I sit on the floor, stretching my injured leg. On the wall, there is a protruding box, most likely behind it are the operating connections for the entire room. I touch the edges and apply pressure, but it’s sealed.

For the next hour I try to open the box with everything in my power: I started with a hook, then I broke a hose that was in the shower (the bathroom is a mess), then I took one of the drawers out of a nightstand and threw it against the wall, but nothing worked.

I sigh in frustration, sitting down again against the wall.

"Damn it," I growl and punch the center of the box, causing the panel to open. I look at the small door in surprise and smile.

But my celebration doesn't last long as I see so many different colored cables intertwined, I sigh and move closer. I pull one to the other, I press buttons, causing the room to go crazy, suddenly the lights turn on and off like the air conditioning, but my biggest surprise is to see that the image of the window changes to different landscapes.

“Brilliant…" I keep trying until the door opens.

"Yes!" I shout in victory raising my arms and standing as fast as my leg allows, but my emotion is interrupted by another presence. I look up and Kylo looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you supposed to be doing?” He frowns and checks the room "What the fuck?" he mutters, walks through the bathroom and realizes the mess, then turns around ready to scold me, but his attention drifts to the wall panel and he gets it.

His sight now focuses on me, I smile innocently and he touches the bridge of his nose closing his eyes for a few seconds, when he opens them, I put my arms behind my back.

"Someone came and destroyed everything,” He shakes his head and I'm sure he struggles not to laugh, he moves his mouth and clears his throat.

"Come with me, I’ll show you the training room," He turns his back to me and leaves the room.

I walk slowly and find two stormtroopers on either side of the door, I wince. Even if I could have opened the door, the watchdogs wouldn't let me go that easy.

"Did you think it would be that simple?" Kylo says looking sideways at me.

"Of course not," I sigh.

It was stupid, but I had nothing else to do anyway.

We continue down the corridors, I stay behind him without paying attention, some soldiers salute at Kylo with fear and politeness. Being distracted I don’t realize the moment we arrived, so I collide with his body, he stops in front of a door.

"Sorry," I whisper.

He touches a screen and the door opens and we both enter.

The area is huge and has several sections for training, like in the Jedi temple. I shiver at the memory.

"You know, I can't move that much," Kylo walks away and takes off the huge black cape.

"We'll start with meditation," He reaches a corner where there’s a mat and sits down crossing his long legs. I imitate him and sit in front of him, stretching my injured leg. We’re watching each other for a few minutes.

"It hurts?" I say pointing to the wound on his face.

"You must remember how to connect with the force,” He ignores me, I roll my eyes.

"Rey has a good arm, I'm surprised you still have a nose," He inhales and exhales calmly, containing his anger. "And she doesn't even workout. That must bother you,” I continue smiling.

"You must feel around you-"

"You know this is useless, I won’t go to the dark side.” His features harden.

"Do you think you have any other choice? You can’t escape, you’re hurt and if you can get out of here, you have nowhere to go. You’ll die in less than a week.” I raise an eyebrow.

"I can take care of myself, I did it for a long time…” I mutter and he smiles.

His eyes analyze me carefully.

"You weren't completely alone," He approaches my body. "Your weakness… Han Solo” I frown.

"How dare you?" His legs manage to touch mine.

"I can see your memories, you let your guard down when I said his name,” Shit. I close my mind again to any intruder and he laughs.

I bite the inside of my cheek when I listen to his laugh I can notice that now's more serious, although it sounds different, what it causes in me has not changed and that bothers me.

"What will happen if you fail?" His wolfish smile disappears.

"Failures must be punished,” He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, if I don't finish the super effective Sith training,” I say rolling my eyes. "Why am I so important? Why does Snoke need me to be on his side? If you fail, he’ll hurt you or may even kill you. Don't you worry?”

He thinks his answer carefully.

"You must not question your supreme leader" I roll my eyes. Now I get closer.

"I know you well,” My face reaches his chin. "You want to know, but you are afraid.” His body tenses.

"Don't continue something that you know will end badly," I shake my head.

“You’re just a lost boy. A stupid one,”It seems that he wants to say something, but he stops and closes his eyes, I look at him confused.

When he opens them again, he forces himself to relax.

“You must avoid these emotions. Han Solo's death, the abandonment of your family, the temple incident–”

“Temple's attack," I correct.

“If you want to finish the training, you must suppress them or put them in your favor. All that anger and helplessness can serve you–“

“You're impossible!" I cover my face with both hands.

The pain in my temple returns and everything around me disappears.

"Come on, Ben, at this point we can see the whole island" I say walking.

“We have been here a long time. We must go back!” He answers behind me.

"You were the one with the idea, genius" I hear his growl.

"I thought you didn't want to miss dinner"

"Just a little more…“

We walk among the trees and find a hill. We go to a part where the trees end and the sunlight is bright. We share an excited look and rush to where the terrain ends, a flat space and then a cliff. Very carefully, we approach the shore.

I’m surprised to see the beautiful landscape before my eyes.

“Great…” the wind and the breeze crash against my body.

"It was worth skipping dinner," Ben whispers next to me and I laugh.

The sun is slowly setting. We were silent for a long time. “

I think we should go back now,” his voice interrupts the moment, I understand his concern, there are only a few minutes left so that everything is in complete darkness, but I just don't want to leave.

"Just a few more minutes…”

“Kiara," I roll my eyes and watch him.

“Come on, Ben. Just a little more!” He looks around indecisively. "Don't be boring.” He frowns.

"I'm not boring.”

"Then stop complaining."

"You should stop throwing a tantrum, we can come back tomorrow.”

"Ben, this is beautiful. How do you not want to stay here?"

"Sure, I forgot that your home is a garbage can, you have never seen anything like this" Now I look at him annoyed.

"Hey, quit that tone, I just want to see-"

"Yes yes, whatever…”

"Stop acting like this!” He raises his eyebrows and his annoyance is replaced by a mocking smile.

"Act as..?”

"Like a fool.” He laughs.

"Good insult. Now let's go back."

"I see why the other children can't stand you.”

"They can't stand that I'm better, they’re jealous"

"And what do you do about it? Instead of helping them, you just humiliate them”

"They don't matter to me.”

“Obviously…”

"Wait," He shakes his head, these changes are very fast. "I don't have to discuss this with a girl like you.”

He turns his back on me and I look down and pick up a small rock from the floor and throw it right at his head. He stops at the blow and turns to face me.

“What– You want to play with this way?"

It happens too fast: our bodies collide and the fight begins; I pull his hair and he pulls mine. I hit his stomach, he twists my arm, we scream in pain. At one point we’re both on the ground, very close to shore and before anyone can do anything, part of the ground falls under our weight.

I feel the lack of floor in my legs and my body falls, but Ben's arms manage to pull me back up. I fall onto my shoulder and the last thing I see is how my friend's body falls off the cliff.

“Ben!”

I crawl to avoid falling and look down. I let out a sigh of relief, which doesn't last long.

A part of the cliff protrudes a few meters from where I am, this prevented Ben from falling into the sea. My breathing is very fast and my heart is going a thousand per hour. I walk away again and look around, the darkness now reigns throughout the place, making the forest darker.

“Ok... ok..." I try to focus. "Ben fell... he's unconscious, I must– I must ask for help!” I get up and turn to the forest.

I can't do it, I can’t see anything and it will take too long.

"Oh no, no, no" I walk back and forth in despair.

Maybe if I scream too loud– no, that won't work. I can't waste time. I have no ropes to pull it with, if I also fall, it’ll be our downfall, no one can find us and we’ll die.

"Agh!" Finally, an idea arrives. I hope it works. I bite my lower lip.

I walk over to the shore again and cross my legs, control my breathing and close my eyes.

I feel the earth below me, I hear the birds singing, nocturnal animals, trees, the water hitting the rocks… With each breath it’s an effort, until I slowly open my eyes.

Ben's body levitates a short distance from me. The force breaks and before his body falls again, I take his arm and with all my effort I pull him as far as I can from the cliff.

“Ben…” a line of blood runs down his forehead to his cheek.

"We must take him to a healer.” The voice startles me and I turn to meet Luke.

“Wh– Were you here the whole time?”

“There's no time, his body’s weak." He approaches and takes Ben in his arms.

Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23

@blackheartedspider

@fandomshit6000

#Ben solo #Kylo Ren #Star wars fanfic #Ben solo x reader #Kylo ren x reader #Star wars #Home #twoidiots writing

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hannafuckingsucks · 5 years

Text

Would you? (Roger Taylor x reader) Part 2

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader

Summary: just some good ol’ hoopdiddydoo (read Part 1 to catch up how we got here)

Words: 4k

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), unprotected sex, bad writing/grammar/vocabulary (idk)

A/N: got asked for some smut, so you get some smut! feel free to bully me for any inaccuracies (car stuff etc), I love the attention. Special thanks to the supreme thirst squad™ on discord! This is for you my bitches 💖 I proofread this like once, sorry for all errors.

His lips felt amazing. They were so soft as he kissed you slowly. The hands on your waist began to roam a bit, gliding up and down your spine, one of them stroking softly over the curve of your hip, and then even lower to your bum.

Your arms where around his neck, holding him close.

After some time you broke the kiss to catch your breath, keeping your eyes closed. You gasped a little as he buried his face in your neck, sucking on the soft skin below your ear.

“Sweetheart” he whispered. “Y/N..”

“What?” your eyes opened and there he was, directly in front of you, cheeks a lovely shade of pink, lips puffy from kissing. Gorgeous. A little smirk formed as he watched you come back to reality.

“Can you do me a favour and go take a shower?” He said quietly. Your eyes widened. Shit.

“Oh my god, is it that bad?” You lowered your head to sniff on yourself. Alcohol, cigarette smoke, sweat. The holy trinity of unpleasant smells. You blushed. “Rog I’m so sorry. Oh no this is so embarrassing l-” you rambled but he stopped you.

“Hey hey hey, it’s not that bad, relax. I wouldn’t have kissed you that long if it was.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead, then looked back to into your eyes. “How’s the hangover?”

You sighed, a little relieved. “Could be worse. No headache. That’s a big surprise."

"How about this: you show me your car, I take a look at it while you take care of yourself. That sound alright to you?” He smiled, then lowered his head to your neck again. “And then.. we’ll see.. where we end up.. ok?” He mumbled in between feathery kisses.

You whimpered. How does he have such an effect on you? “What a gentleman. From the stories I heard about you from Freddie I took you more as a ‘fuck and bolt’ kinda guy.”

He raised his brows and gave you another smirk. “I would be a total liar if I said I wasn’t. But-” you began laughing at that but he just talked over you “But! Freddie told me some of your stories as well, dear. Your not so innocent yourself. So I gotta make sure you don’t run from me too quickly.” He gave you ass a little squeeze and you shrieked in surprise. Well, he’s not wrong.

“Freddie should consider to shut up about me.” You giggled.

“I’m glad he didn’t. Now come on, show me your little dung beetle.”

“Hey, no insulting my sweet car ok? He’s doing his best.” You gave him a stern look as you pulled away from him to get the car keys. Roger rolled his eyes with an adoring smile.

Roger was delighted when you told him that you were able to persuade one of your neighbors into letting you use their garage, were they also kept some basic tools for cars. You left him to work away and got back to your flat.

You felt refreshed and energised after the cool shower. After another cup of coffee you started to prepare some the stuff for lunch, you promised to him cook for him after all.

It was just after 2pm when you put on some comfy red gym shorts and a loose button up. Nothing to heavy for a warm day like today. You grabbed two bottles of beer out of the fridge and headed out to look after your personal mechanic.

As you approached him he was cleaning his hands on a towel. He looked hot. Temperature wise, but also just hot to look at.

“How’s it going, Taylor?” you asked as you strolled into the garage, offering him a bottle, which he accepted gratefully.

“I think I’m done!”, he proudly exclaimed.

“Already?”

“Yeah, nothing was really broken. Just some loose screws and one hose that leaked a little. But it should be fine now.” He grinned. “How are we doing?”

You clinked bottles and took a sip of the cool beer.

“Great. Now that I know my car is fully functional again, even better.”

“It’s a good one. You were right. It kinda reminds me of my first car. It was a Morris Mini Minor,” he patted the hood of your Beetle, “about the same size as this one."

"You wanna go for a ride then? For memories sake?” The suggestion making his eyes sparkle.

“You’d let me?”

“Of course!” You chuckled. “As long as you’ll let me go shotgun.”

“Oh it’d be my pleasure, lady Y/N.” He made an obnoxious bow, put down his beer and opened the passenger side door for you.

“You got your wallet, sir?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat.

“All on me. Ready?” His smile was intoxicating.

“Let’s go. I’ll navigate you out the city, then we can speed a little.”

“I like your way of thinking, babe.”

The roads were almost empty due to it being Sunday afternoon and to the hot weather. You had all the windows of the car rolled down, the radio was blasting one of your favourite stations. Roger had great fun racing absolutely nothing, and you had to remind him several times that this was a VW and not a Ferrari.

“Where’s this road taking us?” he pointed to the street ahead of you, while stopping at a crossroad.

“To the next smaller city, but if you go left we can just drive through the smaller villages there and then head back to my apartment.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He took the turn and you chatted for a while about everything and nothing. He told you about his solo projects, you told him about your work with other bands.

While he drove, you had plenty of time to admire him. The way he smiled while talking about his music almost made your heart stop. His hands looked so beautiful on the steering wheel, the sleeves of his button up rolled up over his elbows. The buttons just done up to his mid chest, exposing some skin. His jeans fit him perfectly, the material laying tight around his legs. You couldn’t help but think about unbuttoning these trousers. Hell, why not?

He was just talking about one of the new songs as you leaned closer to him, positioning your palm on his mid thigh, feeling the strong denim.

Roger shut up immediately and gave a short look to your hand, then your face, then back to the road. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing” you smiled innocently at him, but began stroking his leg, up and down.

He took in a sharp breath as your hand came up higher, almost reaching his bulge. “Honey I-”

“Shhh, focus on the road, Roggie” you cooed, leaning in even further, pecking his cheek, then leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw and neck. Eventually your hand reached it’s destination, right over his bulge. As you cupped it, you could feel his hard on already, and he let out a breathy moan. You stopped your kissing and popped open the button of his trousers, unzipping them.

“That’s a dangerous act your starting here, Y/N. It’s been a while since I had to drive on the right side of the road and you’re making it a quite hard to- oh fuck” he stopped talking as you reached into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his warm cock, but he tried his best to finish his sentence, “hard to focus.”

You freed his length from his underwear and started to jerk him slowly. It looked amazing in your hand.

“Hmm, you know what a dangerous act is?” you whispered and licked your lips, he couldn’t help but glance back and forth between your face and the road. He didn’t answer quick enough, you got impatient, so you just leaned down and gave the head of his dick a wet kiss.

“Shit Y/N”, he moaned, you could feel his thighs flexing.

“What is it, sweetheart?” you said without looking up at him, instead you circled your tongue around his tip once.

“You’re gonna get us killed- you aAH-” he whimpered, you sucked the head of him into your mouth once and then let it out again. While still slowly stroking his length, you sat up again to look at him with a mischievous little smile.

“You just have to be extra careful then. I think you can do it.” Again, before he could answer, you got down to his lap and licked a long stripe from the base up to the tip with your flat tongue. His breathing had picked up a notch, but stopped for several seconds as you enclosed your lips around his dick.

The moans coming from his mouth were music to your ears and they spurred you on to take him in deeper and deeper with ever bob of your head. You alternated between taking him in as deep as possible and teasing the sensitive head with the tip of your tongue, all the while pumping him with your hand.

Roger was breathing heavily now, long groans sounding out his throat from time to time, followed by some praises. You gave him a very hard time focusing on the road, that’s why he steered a little too carelessly in a curve, the right wheels shortly got of the road, making the car shake more heavily. You couldn’t control the movement and his cock got forced deep into your mouth, down your throat. Roger couldn’t help the low moan leaving his mouth.

You gagged and pulled off of him, coughing repeatedly. Roger had the wheels back on the road again, a concerned look plastered on his face as he saw you catching your breath. “Oh fuck Y/N I’m so sorry, I got too distracted. Are you ok?” He slowed down the car and stopped it on the side of the road, then quickly he took your face into his hands to make you look at him. “Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat once. “So much about being careful.” Then you smirked, “you loved it though, didn’t you? I heard the noise you made.”

He breathed out slowly, relaxing about because you seemed fine, but also feeling a bit of embarrassment creeping up his head. “I.. uh..”

“Tell me you liked it.” You let out in a sweet voice.

He searched your face for any signs that you were just joking around. But there weren’t any. “I did.” he whispered.

You grabbed his wrists, removing them from your face and leaned in close to his face. Your noses were touching, his eyes were lust blown, a little sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead. “Do you want me to repeat it, hmm? Now that we’ve stopped there isn’t any real danger left anymore.”

“God you are such a dirty little minx.” he groaned. The sound of his voice making a shiver run down your spine.

“Say it.” you demanded.

“Do it again, it felt so good.” Your hand was on his cock again right as he finished the sentence, jerking him faster, harder. His eyes fell shut.

“Let me hear how good this feels.” and you went down again, giving him a few innocent sucks before letting him slide in deeper again. The tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

You took one last deep breath through your nose and finally took his whole length in, your nose touching his pubic bone, and then stayed like this for some moments.

Roger was a whimpering moaning mess. He babbled incoherently, a mix of 'shit’, 'oh fuck’ and your name. His hips bucked up involuntarily and tears were forming in your eyes. You pulled your head up slightly, letting yourself breathe more freely again.

“M gonna cum, Jesus fucking christ Y/N” He almost screamed as you lowered your mouth again. With a squeeze on his thigh you gave him permission. And boy, did he cum. A loud groan sounded through the car when he emptied his load in your throat.

He grabbed your hair and pulled you off his dick. You coughed again, but with a smile. He looked stunning, completely fucked out, but gorgeous. His jaw hung slack, his eyes were barely open and.. a tear ran down his cheek.

“Oh shit are you crying?” you croaked out, your throat feeling a bit sore.

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are! And here I was thinking Brian was the crybaby.”

“Shut up.”

He embraced you tightly, pulling you close to him as he slowly calmed down. It took him several minutes and you just enjoyed listening to his rapid heart beat with your head pressed to his chest.

“You are.. something else.” he murmured into your hair, breaking the silence. You giggled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Suddenly he raised his head as he heard a car drive by slowly. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“That’s a police car. And they’re stopping.” he hissed. You sat up and looked out the front window. The cop car pulled to the side of the road in front of your car.

“Fuck, put your dick away and smile ok, we did nothing wrong.” Two men exited and walked up to your car. “Oh god fucking damn it.” You cursed as you recognized one of them.

Roger frantically zipped up his pants. “Huh?”

“I know that one. The taller one, we went to school together.”

“Is that bad?”

“Well… I uh…” you hesitated a little but just before the two men reached your window you rushed out “He was in this car with me once."

Roger gaped at you. He knew what you implied.

"Good afternoon, do you need help here? Oh, Y/N, nice to see you again.” the guy, Max, spoke through the open window.

Roger looked into his face for not even two seconds, then snorted. You gave him a warning glance and forced a smile for the policemen.

“Hello Max, I hope you’re doing good.” the fake nice tone of your voice made Roger giggle, he had to cover it behind his hand.

“Yes I’m well, are you two alright? Did you break down here?” he asked while looking at Roger suspiciously. “Sir, did you have anything to drink?”

“No no, everything’s fine, really, we just stoped to uh.. look at the view a little. See Roger here came all the way from England so I thought I’d show him the countryside and..”

“Could you show me your license and registration please?”

“Absolutely, officer Max!” Roger grinned and handed over his license as you pulled out the registration from the glove compartment. Max took the papers, gave Roger another unsure look, then made some steps away to check them.

“Could you at least try to be normal? He’s already fed up with me after I broke things off, I don’t want you to get called for drug testing or whatever.” you whisper-shouted at him.

“I’m sorry, but he has such a baby face. What did you see in him?” He giggled even more.

“I don’t know, shut up he’s coming back.”

“Alright, uh, seems to be fine. Please find a better parking spot next time though.” Max said as he gave you back the documents.

“Of course, thank you. I must admit it was my idea to stop here. I just couldn’t help myself. I got so distracted by this beautiful land that I felt unsafe to drive further. So I made the decision to halt to admire it without the risk of crashing.” Roger spoke in his usual charming voice. He was so smug that you had a hard time not to slap him.

“Yeah just.. find a safer spot next time.”

“Promise! Have a good day gentlemen.” and he started the car, pulling out in the street again to continue your drive.

“Had fun there?” you asked him, the sarcasms oozing from your voice.

“I had so much fun today I can’t even begin to sum it up.” he grinned.

You just rolled your eyes.

“You want another beer?” You asked him as he entered your apartment after you.

“Yeah would be nice.”

“Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you."

You joined him on the couch, two open bottles in your hand. "I promised you lunch. But we’re already nearing dinner time. Are you hungry?” you took a big sip and waited for his answer. But he just looked at you with a cute grin on his face. You lowered your bottle. “Hello? Earth to Taylor?”

Suddenly he snatched the bottle out your hand and placed it on the table next to the couch. “Hey wha-” you shrieked as he pulled you into his lap.

“I think you’ve done so much for me already, baby. Now it’s time to repay you a little.” he whispered as he peppered kisses on your neck.

You couldn’t help but melt into his touch. He had one hand on your waist, the other on your naked knee, due to your shorts. He stroked his palm over your soft skin, from your knee up over your thigh, to your hip, your stomach and then it stilled on your breast. You connected your lips with his for a needy kiss. That’s what you were. Needy. Just the simple touches he gave you remindend you how bad you wanted him.

He kissed you back with the same power, and the kiss got sloppier by the second. “Roger,” you moaned into his mouth, “please touch me.”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.” and he flipped you quickly, laying you back down on the couch. He came hovering over you and kissed you softly again, then started to unbutton your blouse. With each button more skin was revealed and he made sure to kiss every new uncovered inch.

Finally the shirt was open and you quickly discarded it on the floor. Roger’s hands were on your tits, massaging them, making you writh underneath him. You were so responsive to his touch, he couldn’t help but grin. “Beautiful girl” he whispered, then licked over your nipple, taking it between his teeth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. His hand glided down over your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. You whimpered.

“So eager” he said as he let go of your nipple. With both hands he pulled down the red shorts, you lifted your hips off the couch to make it easier. They joined your shirt on the floor. “That’s a beautiful pair of panties, honey. Did you put then on just for me?“

“Put them on for you to rip them off, Roger please!” you urged him. As much as you appreciated him taking his time, you just were getting impatient. “I need you!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, the weak lace material snapped easily with one pull of his hands. Quickly he put his fingers on you cunt, exploring your folds, spreading your wetness, coating his fingers in it. “Oh, did I do this?” he asked and put a little pressure on your clit. You jerked and a short moan left you mouth. “Did I make you this wet?”

His fingers were still now, you knew what he wanted. “Yes Roger, it was you, you did this to me! Now please do something about it!” You sounded almost pathetic but he loved it.

“Everything my princess asks for.” His fingers began to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand. He watched you intently, remembering your every reaction to his actions. The movements of his hand sped up a bit and your eyes rolled back into your head. You knew he could make you cum with just his fingers. It felt amazing, breathtaking, otherworldly, and it was just his fingers on your clit.

“Roger!” you grabbed his wrist, making him slow down. “Fuck me properly. Now. I’m begging you.” He smirked at that, utterly pleased at how you were so desperate for him. His fingers left your clit but it took you by surprise as he pushed two of them into your pussy. A loud “Fuck” left you lips, followed by several moans.

“Do you think you’re ready for me baby? Oh you feel so good around my fingers.” he groaned as he pumped them in an out of you slowly. Your hips started to rock onto his hand, trying to get him to speed up.

You whined his name as he pulled his hand away from you, making you feel empty between your legs. You looked up to him as he threw off his shirt and unzipped his pants. He pushed them down his legs, directly followed by his underwear. You made grabbing hands towards him, he chuckled softly and crawled over you again.

His hard cock brushed your inner thigh and you felt like you could burst from excitement any moment. You sat up a bit and spat into your hand to lube up his length. He groaned at you action and pushed your hand away, lining himself up to your entrance. “Ready angel?” his eyes looking directly into yours, searching for any signs of discomfort, but unable to find any. You nodded, holding the eye contact as he started to push into you, stretching you out inch by inch.

As he bottomed out he let a low moan escape his lips. "You’re squeezing me really tight, love” he hissed.

“Because you feel so fucking good” you retorted, moving your hips once, making his eyes fall shut and his mouth open. “Move, show me how good you can fuck me, sweet boy.”

This must’ve awakened some fire in him because suddenly he pulled out of you just to slam back in, making you scream in pleasure. He picked up a steady pace, not too fast, but it was hard. He grunted every time he pounded back into you, relishing the feeling of your tight warm cunt around him.

You gave up on trying to keep down your moans, now letting them roll out freely. Roger quickened the tempo after some time, making you whine higher.

And he knew what he was doing when he pulled one of your legs up, positioning it over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to press into a sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Christ, just like that, don’t stooooo- oh god-” you choked out between moans and whines. He was pounding you relentlessly and his hand found to your clit again, rubbing it in quick circles. It made you see stars.

“You gonna cum for me, angel?”

You couldn’t answer. You were already there, on the edge, getting pushed over by him just as he finished his sentence. Your back arched into him, vision white, hands clawed into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. The blissed out noises you made as you came were enough to bring him to his own orgasm, so he quickly pulled out of you, spilling his load on to your stomach.

You were both panting. Roger rested his head on your chest and you stroked his hair. The silence was beautiful, the only noise being your breaths.

Several minutes passed until he spoke up again. “How are you feeling?”

“As if I was on cloud 9. But also like I should take another shower.” You giggled.

He turned his head up to look at you. “I wouldn’t say no to a shower as well. C'mon, let’s go!” He jumped up and held a hand out for you.

“You mean right now? I don’t know if I’m able to walk just yet, Roger.” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. Still you took his hand and he pulled you up.

“I think I can help with that” he said with a smirk and suddenly lifted you up over his shoulder, carrying you towards the bathroom.

“Jesus Christ, first you make me almost choke on your cock and now I’m about to get my neck broken if you drop me!” You laughed.

He spanked your ass once. “Psht, I would never drop you. Also I promised you at least 8 minutes, but I’m by far not done with you yet.”

~~~

Does my moodboard make sense now? 😉

Taglist: @painkiller80 @sevenseasofskye @amy-brooklyn99 @bohemiansweede @rogershoe @loveandbeloved29

#Would you?#would you? part 2 #roger taylor x reader #roger x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor #queen #this was fun to write lol #roger taylor let me suck your dick challenge

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the-firebird69 · 4 months

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The Supreme Court gives Jack Smith a week to respond on Trump immunity

This guy has positions all over the place and is Trump and right here he has to decide what to do to himself if he doesn't allow the appeal he won't get an appeal to the decision she has to make himself go to court which is stupid cuz he's even f****** ass he has to send himself the court there's no other decision I mean this guy is a f****** weirdo little face is a freaking weird person and a dumb person you're putting yourself in court you jackass what's the matter you can dish it out we can't take it for a second p**** can sit there saying be quiet it's too loud you can't take it for a second so freaking p**** so here he is with another congenital conundrum and the guy can't figure out what to do so he's going to sit there till the 20th and doesn't make a damn difference we think they're going to fire him we think they're going to fire him from all sorts of jobs like this cuz we'll see him delaying stuff and standing in the way of all sorts of things that's what he does in jobs like this but he is trying to prosecute our people. And he works for the attorney general and he's the number one special prosecutor and he has no business being in that job and people are going to displace him. Beginning today I want him shut down on anything he's trying to ding our son with especially new ones

Thor Freya

Olympus

You're a big huge pain in the ass Trump but boy you're a stinks humongous you're a giant mistake person for your realm you make huge errors every day gigantic mistakes and I'm utilizing them against your people and your realm it's almost nothing that you won't mess up and simply irresistible to admit right now yeah that you're this big huge hose bag. My Giants are wiping out your armies and they're not even awake how pitiful for you Trump what a joke you must be to others he's attacking him and all of them are dying again and this army is in entombed that's destroying him.

Zues

There's also another issue with this idiot being nearby my husband's it is a smoke screen but you know we're young and just don't like it but it's working and we're using it until he's gone right now he's trying to find a weapon he says so what we're doing is penalizing him by taking stuff out of his stashes and caches last night a ton of them were emptied in this hemisphere and right now we'll be getting it overseas but it's more aggressive and it's going to be it should be more people to it and my husband says the right words he has the most something wins

Hera

We're going to live by those words and we're sending more troops now

Thor Freya Olympus

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xtruss · 2 years

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Opinion: Judge Jackson’s Long Journey To The Court — And Ours

— By Michele L. Norris, Columnist | April 9, 2022 | The Washington Post

Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson wipes tears as President Biden speaks at a White House event April 8 celebrating her confirmation to the Supreme Court. (Jim Watson/AFP/Getty Images)

“In My Family, It Took Just One Generation To Go From Segregation To The Supreme Court Of The United States.”

Sometimes history can be summed up in a single sentence of naked simplicity. But there were all kinds of complex elements squeezed in between every vowel and consonant in that declaration by incoming Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson on Friday in a ceremony on the White House South Lawn.

Jackson will become the first Black woman to serve on the highest court in the land — and the fervent applause she received after delivering that line was a powerful homage to both her journey and that of the country she serves.

But to understand the full importance of her ascent you need to dwell on the word that sits like a leaden anchor at the center of that sentence: segregation.

Jackson was born in 1970, when the victories of the civil rights movement were beginning to manifest themselves in housing, employment, sports, education and entertainment. But racial divisions remained stark after decades of legally sanctioned segregation that followed 250 years of legal enslavement of Blacks.

Because neither the passage of laws nor the dismantling of racial codes erased the deeply ingrained narrative of racial inferiority. America had long been invested in the separation of races and, to be more specific, the automatic privilege that comes with White skin. The vestiges of slavery and segregation are still with us, and yet we find ourselves in a time when the party that so viciously opposed Jackson’s nomination wants to eviscerate the teachings and discussions of our nation’s racial history and focus instead on the progress America has made.

They argue that we should not dwell on all that old-timey stuff like chains and shackles, dogs and hoses, or white hoods and black bodies swinging from trees. Well, to understand and fully appreciate the progress we’ve made, you need more than a passing understanding of the dark places Americans dwelled within the sanction of law to keep bodies in bondage, to keep people oppressed, to keep human beings in a subjugated state that mocks the core tenets of our Constitution.

And if you understand that history, you can quickly and clearly see how the waves of disrespect hurled at Jackson in the past month cut too close to the casual and constant denigration of Black people, and especially Black women, over centuries in this country.

She was interrupted. She was called a liar. She was asked about anti-racist textbooks that have little to do with her work on the bench. Her record was distorted. Her accomplishments were belittled. Senators addressed her in loud and hostile tones and language that wholly lacked the commensurate respect for the nominee or the process or even the building where the hearing took place.

If you can bring yourself to even glance at our painful racial past, the behavior of some of the senators leaves a particularly foul aftertaste. Sen. Rand Paul (R-Ky.) held up Jackson’s confirmation vote for half an hour and eventually cast his vote from the cloakroom, a private meeting space off the Senate floor. Trifling is not a word one likes to apply to lawmakers, but how else do you describe that kind of loutish behavior? Sen. Lindsey O. Graham (R-S.C.) didn’t wear a tie for the vote, which meant he could not appear on the Senate floor. He too cast a no vote from the cloakroom.

His office released a video from a news conference earlier in the day where he railed once again that President Biden should have taken his advice to nominate a preferable Black nominee from his home state. He managed to find a tie for that performance.

The people who opposed this nomination spent a lot of energy suggesting that Jackson was some kind of less-qualified affirmative action hire because her elevation fulfilled Biden’s campaign pledge to nominate a Black woman to the Supreme Court. You didn’t hear that kind of howling years ago when Ronald Reagan pledged to nominate a woman before settling on Sandra Day O’Connor. One of the worst remnants of all those years of segregation is a latent assumption that Black people are inherently less qualified. It’s a lie. It’s always been a lie, and Jackson’s sparkling intellect and cool under pressure should remind us that America has been robbed of this kind of genius and talent for centuries, because women and all kinds of people of color have too often been kept out of consideration.

In the end, when Jackson was confirmed and the chamber broke out in thunderous applause, most Republican senators left the room like sore losers. (Utah’s Mitt Romney was an exception.) This was so much worse than athletes sulking off the field instead of rolling through the handshake line. This was refusing to show respect to a woman now charged with acting in the best interest of all Americans. That is what service at the highest levels is all about: acting in the interest of all Americans.

They could not stop her nomination, so they would not applaud it or show her the respect she deserves. But they will have to accept her confirmation as fact. Her name will someday grace schools, libraries and public buildings; her face will smile down from massive public murals; her words will likely be carved into stone for schoolchildren to memorize. They cannot stop that.

— Michele L. Norris is a columnist and consultant for Post Opinions and founding director of The Race Card Project.

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abhayhatia · 3 years

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DOLPHIN Nautilus CC Supreme WiFi Operated Robotic Pool [Vacuum] Cleaner - Ideal for In Ground Swimming Pools up to 50 Feet - Easy to Clean Top Load Filter Cartridges

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#Cloudtail India #Cooling Centre #Digital Agent #ENGARC #Exquisite Export International #Hiken #INDRICO® India #RONOFIC #SAIFPRO #SmartNxt

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falcontradingcowll · 4 years

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The backbones of industries and manufacturing

Construction is the root of any new empires. Foundations laid are the backbone, and be it physical or idea-based; they are the primary step to further growth. And to set up a new firm, manufacturing of the tools is a basic necessity. Today, we bring to your knowledge; a family-owned business that has now been recognized as one of the leading business houses in Bahrain.

Falcon Trading Co is a renowned name in the trading of tools and products for industrial and building constructions. From a general device to industrial tools to safety tools or building materials, you are sure to get a wholesale trade for these items from here.

Why choose Falcon?

Every customer has a primary mindset to get the best of quality products that are offered at affordable deals. Customer satisfaction highly relies on these two factors, and they provide you with a solution to both these points. The firm partnered with 25000 products imported from suppliers and manufacturers across the world. With such a massive network and best quality, at prices that fit in the budget, it is evident that this should be the go-to option for the tools and construction materials.

Products they offer

With a wide range of products offered, Falcon specializes in the manufacturing and industrial tools. The quality they offer is of top-notch and thus it is reliable. Here, you can find a variety of products under different categories and hence there is everything one might need at a place. There are other and all reputed brands that have been dealing with them, all doing great and wonders in their sectors across the world.

Here, they have a variety of products and tools under various categories which are as follows:-

General tools – The general tools like that of hand tools, or measurement tools, metal cutting or pipe tools, all of these are available in their firm. Quality that is only reliable and the prices are wholesale to keep the customer satisfaction factor maximum.

Power tools – Power tools actuated by power and used for additional purposes other than the hand tools are also available with them. AEG, drilling machines and other devices are available from them

Welding products – Welding is one of the critical processes in construction works. Thus cables and welding machines are available at Falcon with prime quality.

Safety products – Safety is one of the prime need of the construction. Hence products for fall safety, road safety etc. are all available here.

Industrial tools – Chemicals are like fodder to industries. They operate on the various chemicals they need for processing. Hence, this kind of needy products is also available to them.

Building materials – A construction needs basic stuff like ladders and hoses and other accessorial products. Hence, they also house such products for you at affordable rates and supreme quality.

With Falcon, the trading of Industrial tools and power tools have been much more accessible and on a roller ride, as they offer an excellent quality of products, all at affordable rates. With a team of experts in sales and products quality offered, Falcon has managed to gain a reputation and deliverable in the whole of the island. You can check out too at http://www.falcontradingco.com/ and get the unique products all at a classic price range.

#Safety products #Building materials #Industrial tools #Welding products #Power tools #General tools

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punwolf · 6 years

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I really like my airbrush. I bought it for a very specific purpose -- insanely expensive for this purpose but it will eventually pay for itself. Some years ago, Testors paints sold out to another company. Up until then they produced a can of spray paint which was clear and true matte. You could hose down your models with it and it didn’t look different at all. 3 coats of gloss spray and 1 of matte were the standard for protecting gaming models. That all changed when they sold the company to someone else.

I’ve had nothing but trouble finding a proper matte finish which is in a spray can. Krylon has an art fixative which is hit and miss. It’s too unreliable for the sheer bulk of figures I’ve got to do. Games Workshop may still make a proper flat sealer but because I’m in the US, it costs $28.00 plus shipping for one can. Sorry GW but that’s insane. I usually hand wave their high costs because they’ve always had higher prices, are imported from the UK, and their figures are good quality for those who don’t mind spending the cash for them. 28 bucks for a can of spray paint is way beyond the limit of sanity, even if it goes twice as far as most sprays or is a supreme product. Rustoleum will cover a 1970′s retro paisley from hell in one swipe for less than $4 at a hardware store.

Vallejo and Reaper both make excellent brush on sealers but that takes forever to do by hand when you’ve got a huge bulk to seal. I usually miss spots, too.

Enter the airbrush. Vallejo makes a line of airbrush paints, including their sealer. I’d rather pay the $145.00 for a good quality airbrush and compressor kit than shell out $28 for the cans or the literal hours of time it would take to hand seal everything. I mean seriously at that price for one can the airbrush will pay for itself in a hurry.

The Vallejo sealer isn’t super cheap but a few drops go a really long way. I played around with some of the paints that came with my airbrush to get used to it. I didn’t create any magnificent art (unless you count a bunch of blobs and scribbles) but it’s something I may very well enjoy playing around with in the future for other stuff besides only sealing.

#whuffies life #whuffie's life

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themurphyzone · 7 years

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Oneshot: Fashion Disaster

This one is very light on plot. It’s just stupid stuff happening XD

The entire class was stuck in Principal Milder’s office after the latest Murphy’s Law incident left their clothes half-soaked, half-eaten by moths. Milo’s sweatervest resembled less of a sweatervest and more like outdated fringe that was more reminiscent of square dancing parties. He shrugged it off though. He still had 22 at home. If Diogee showed up, maybe he’d bring one with him.

“Right, so the Lost and Found box is being brought to the office now,” Principal Milder explained. “Since nobody has ever claimed lost items since the school’s founding, it’s doubtful they’d be claimed now so feel free to take whatever fits.”

“Just think of all the inspiration I could get from these outfits!” Lydia nudged Melissa, who groaned.

“Lydia, if it’s anything like your last bout of inspiration, I would really appreciate not being used as a pin cushion for dresses with poofy sleeves,” Melissa replied.

Lydia pouted. “You’re no fun!”

“Can’t be as bad as when my mom first made the flannel outfits for the Lumberzacks,” Zack said, shuddering at the memory. “She called every band member over to take their measurements and after that Max snuck into my room and broke a cassette tape that had Love Handel on it. He still owes me a new one.”

“Zack, nobody uses cassettes anymore,” Melissa said.

Milo shrugged. “Vintage Sounds of Disaster can’t be beat. There is something very soothing and retro about cassette tapes.”

Zack frowned, crossing his legs only to uncross them moments later. “He still owes me. Okay, when’s that box getting here? Jeans and water don’t mix.”

“Or white for that matter,” Milo said, pointing to Melissa’s jacket, which was almost see through around the sleeves. Amanda hadn’t fared so well, but Milo was able to provide her with a thick blanket that she had completely hidden herself in.

Poor girl had trouble handling Murphy’s Law when the problem occurred over an extended period of time instead of being a quick fix.

Bradley’s hair flopped in his eyes, and he tossed it back in annoyance. “This reminds me painfully of when Mort was hosing the delicious stickiness of Carla off me. I’ll never forget the cold but comforting caress of her cream which tasted of springtime and strawberries, the sharp tang which hid a beautiful smile of orange sherbet, the vibrations as her thick cream poured out when I pulled her lever-”

Everyone slowly inched away from him.

Even Principal Milder looked disturbed. “Maybe we should stage an intervention,” she muttered.

“At least Mrs. Murawski spares us the details,” Melissa said awkwardly. “Most of the time.”

The lost and found box arrived, wheeled in by Mr. Drako. “I found a few things from the Halloween party of 2007. You know, the one where Nolan got stuck in the apple bobbing tub.”

Principal Milder snickered. “Believe me, I still have the pictures. I can resort to blackmail if he ever dares challenge my supreme authority again.”

Mort shifted nervously. “I think the creepy aura went from mottled black and purple gas to multi-tentacled ethereal monsters seeking to devour us all.”

“I would like it to devour me now, because that box is filled to the brim with gaudy Hawaiian shirts,” Zack gulped.

Milo grinned. “It’s not so bad. I mean, does this overcoat remind you of anyone?” He held up a large, dark green coat that had obviously gone out of style.

“Isn’t that Cavendish’s?” Melissa asked. “You know, never mind. I don’t want to know what your time traveling uncles were doing that resulted in one of their articles of clothing winding up here.”

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind me borrowing it,” Milo shrugged. “Oh, hey! Bell bottom pants! Anyone want these?”

Everyone cowered and shook their heads from the hideous monstrosity that was the yellow and pink floral patterned bell bottom pants. Lydia swooned and fainted.

“Okay, finders keepers rule applies here then,” Milo sing-songed, moving into the nearby bathroom to change.

“Wait, he’s not-”

“I think he is,” Melissa smirked. “I am so getting pictures of this later. Remind me to get Dakota’s number from Milo. There is no way he’s missing out on this fashion disaster.”

“Cavendish, you gotta see this! Least we know your coat is in good hands now!” Dakota laughed.

Cavendish looked up from his grumbling. “This better not be another memo, or whatever you call that ridiculous Internet thing.” His hand flew to his mouth in shock when he viewed the picture on the phone. “Dakota, my coat...Milo...that color....”

“It’s hilarious!” Dakota snickered. “Right? Maybe I should try the bell bottom look.”

Cavendish snatched the car keys off the desk. “This is a complete disaster, Dakota! Stop making a mockery of it! That boy’s outfit is a mess that we’ll have to fix now!”

“Wait, it’s the middle of the day. He’s still in class!”

“I’ll claim it’s for a medical emergency!”

#milo murphy's law #bradley nicholson #melissa chase #zack underwood #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota

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unsolvedmysteriesmydiagnosis · 7 years

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So this is the part in the musical where everyone comes on stage and sings a big, energetic number before intermission. We met with pinch-hitter internist to review my visit and discuss a plan until February. Bonus: he did med school at SUNY Upstate, so we talked shit about Syracuse. Diagnoses: a “constellation” of ‘em as he charmingly put it, includes fibromyalgia, POTS, and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, but most importantly: Systemic Exertional Intolerance Syndrome (new name for chronic fatigue syndrome) and Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (CFS flavor with muscle pain, internet suggests it’s interchangeable with CFS, but Mayo draws a distinction). Diagnoses in short: my body doesn’t regulate itself properly, especially when it comes to exertion, and it hurts. And medicine doesn’t know why, but that stuff tends to happen to women, especially women roughly my age. The plan: since medicine doesn’t understand the mechanisms behind why this happens (which is supremely frustrating (here’s my plug for supporting political candidates who value funding basic research at the NIH & NSF)) it’s lots of managing the symptoms. Diet: going Mediterranean may help. Increasing fluids and adding salt to food can help maintain blood volume when I stand up. Caffeinated bevs can help headaches. Turmeric, ginesing, B2, magnesium, fiber, fish oil can help various other symptoms Life style: compression hose will keep blood from pooling in my feet when i stand, verrrrrrry slowly beginning gentle exercise can help condition and stamina. Keeping up with therapy and self care to bolster mental and (non-)spiritual health is critical for coping with chronic illness. Act II: we’ll be back in February to see the autonomic neurology guru who may have more insights or strategies. I watched a talk he gave on dysautonomia and he clearly thinks deeply about the stuff I’m dealing with: https://vimeo.com/243140093 There’s also an exercise/rehab doc I may see now or then to help me with a plan to safely increase activity. We may also redo my tilt table test because my initial BP/HR values (laying down “relaxed”) were very high, meaning they didn’t have anywhere to go when I was tilted up. We’ll see. My integrative doc last week said he was confident he could get me feeling 85% better with the above suggestions. That sounds really appealing. More than anything, I want my brain back. It’s so frustrating not being able to think as clearly, quickly or deeply as I’m used to. I need it to make a living and it brings me joy and fulfillment in life. Here’s hoping once we get the body in better working order the brain follows.

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avanneman · 5 years

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TV or not TV? Isn’t there a third option?

I’ve already argued that the pickings at the multiplex are pretty slim, nor am I a fan of what I have labeled “Heavy TV”, disliking it so much I had to write a sequel to my original putdown.1 My appetite, such as it was, for the doings of sadistic serial killers is pretty much exhausted, and I’m generally either afraid of “The Dark” or bored by it. So is nothing acceptable? Fortunately, there are a few old favorites that are still holding up, and a few other odds and ends—shows that have come and gone that I’m just discovering.

Archer, suave secret agent/dick (both private and public), about whom I’ve raved in the past, on my own blog and for the Bright Lights Film Journal, still functioning, and still tolerably funny in its ninth season, is preparing for its tenth and last on FX. Earlier seasons are no longer available on Netflix (except on DVD) and Amazon Prime makes you pay extra even for Season 1, which strikes me as exceptionally bitchy (or Archery). I’m sure the kids have figured out a way to watch it for free, but I haven’t, so I’m DVDing it.

The third season of Call My Agent!, aka Dix Pour Cent, a semi-favorite of mine is up on Netflix, chronicling the frenzied adventures of the ever-endangered ASK talent agency in Paris. I complained about the excessive coziness of Saison Deux, but I’m glad to report that Saison Trois is both more dry and more droll. As I expected, the cliffhanger from Saison Deux, that big-hearted, big-nosed lesbian Andréa (Camille Cottin) would be shipped off to New York, didn’t happen, allowing her to have her baby (by boss Hicham Janowski, played by Assaad Bouab) in the safety and sanctity of the French medical system. My big complaint in the past was the show’s star-struck approach to stars, showing them as vain and temperamental (at first) but, after a few complications, emerging as gallant thoroughbreds who always come through under pressure and save the day. This time, instead of a handful of European stars entirely unknown to me, we have a true international star, Isabelle Huppert. Isabelle isn’t “bad”, of course. If anything, she’s too generous and hard-working. The thing is, she’s signed a contract with—wait for it—Americans! Who want her exclusively and, mercenary monsters that they are, would foreclose on Versailles and ship it to LA if they don’t get their way!

Fortunately, ASK has both the sangfroid and the savoir faire to hose the Yanks, though it takes quite a bit of frantic behind the scenes running around to carry the whole thing off. Along the way, there’s a funny side plot, wherein the sweet gay guy, whose name I still don’t know and can’t determine, gets a chance to move up to be an actual agent instead of an assistant! Because sweet not-gay Camille (Fanny Sidney) thinks she’s so busy she should be two people, sweet gay guy becomes her, for a day. And then he meets this really cute waiter who wants to be a star, and so sweet gay guy arranges for an audition for him! Both their dreams are going to come true! Well, how else does one celebrate such an occasion, eh, mon ami? But then, well, really cute waiter gets sent to the wrong audition, and he’s terrible, and the studio wants to know why ASK is sending them boyfriends instead of actors, and SGG has to 1) catch shit from Camille for endangering the agency, 2) tell RCW that he isn’t star material, and 3) take shit from RCW, to wit: “You only took me on because you wanted to fuck me! Well, mission accomplished, bitch! Because now I’m totally fucked!” And all because he wanted to make people’s dreams come true! Agents suffer!

A past hidden gem that I’m just discovering is Blandings, a mere 12 thirty-minute episodes from Britain, but I’m lovin’ ‘em. “Blandings”, available on Amazon, is ultimately from the pen of P. G. Wodehouse, the grandmaster of silly ass Englishman light fiction. I’ve previously discussed a series dating from the early 90s, Jeeves and Wooster, devoted to Wodehouse’s supreme creation, the saga of Bertie Wooster and his man Jeeves, which ran through dozens of short stories and perhaps a dozen novels, from the early twenties through 1970. Devotees/obsessives like myself marinated for decades in Bertie’s inimitable rococo narration of Jeeves’ inimitable rococo machinations, all in the service of the inimitable truth, that Amor Vincit Omnia, though not without considerable assistance from Jeeves.

It was surely inevitable that Jeeves and Wooster would fall below the mark unconsciously set for it by aficionados like myself. Despite the ineffable lightness of Wodehouse’s prose, both Bertie and Jeeves were quite complex characters, doppelgangers for Wodehouse himself. “Plum”, as everyone (apparently) called him, was quite unhappy as a boy, but immensely happy at his “public” school—what we Americans would call a prep school—“Dulwich College”. The moral he seemed to take away from it all was that happiness, though possible, is not “natural”—it must be consciously achieved. Furthermore, it is most often achieved in the company of the privileged, and it can best be achieved by holding the world at arm’s length.

In the early short stories, Bertie is always either falling in love or getting engaged, or both, but always to the “wrong woman”—though, in sharp contrast to the American “rom com”, there is no right one.2 As Jeeves repeatedly makes clear, the only way to avoid the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune is to abstain from the fury and mire of human veins. By the mid-thirties, when Wodehouse had largely switched from short stories to novels, Bertie was as skeptical of affairs of the heart as Jeeves. The turning point was Brinkley Manor, aka What Ho, Jeeves (1934), which set in motion a collection of entangled and star-crossed lovers who, thanks to Jeeves, all married happily, though the consummations were delayed for a good thirty years. The Epicurean Roman poet Lucretius notoriously found it pleasing to stand safely on the shore and watch the sufferings of those at sea tormented by the storm.3 Both Jeeves and Bertie are made of softer stuff, and, confronted as they invariably are by victims of internal rather than external weather, always strive to intervene—Bertie ingenuously and disastrously, Jeeves with the effortless hand of the Creator (or the Author). But in both cases, intervention is only possible if one is one’s self immune to the tempest within.4

Jeeves and Bertie are scarcely three-dimensional characters, and the supporting cast distinctly less so, but over the decades that he wrote about them, Wodehouse rang the changes on the limited notes available to him so ingeniously that—for the addicted, at least—they remained ever fresh and vivid. The result is that, I suspect, all true devotees have a “perfect” Aunt Dahlia and a “perfect” Madelaine Bassett, not to mention a perfect Bertie and a perfect Jeeves, already fixed in their heads, so that the poor actors and actresses (if I can use such a term) who portray them almost invariably appear as disappointments or even frauds, for the perfect is always the enemy of the good.

In the “Blandings” stories, revolving around Lord Emsworth and his kin, and most particularly his prize pig, the “Empress” and set in the “eternal Twenties” of Wodehouse’s imagination,5 the perfect rarely intrudes The few I read from the series struck me as a distinctly lesser creation, stories that Wodehouse wrote as a sort of vacation from the Wooster/Jeeves high-wire act. Without Bertie’s perfect voice—the Blandings stories are written the third person—and without Jeeves perfect schemes, we have little more than a stock company road show of silly ass Englishmen, good-hearted chorus girls, good-natured, big-bellied, empty-headed lords, imperious dames, and sherry-slurping butlers, all wandering around the sort of enormous country estate that drove me half bonkers in the unspeakably wretched Downton Abbey.6 But at Blandings, it works.

Rather remarkably, given the degenerate nature of our time, the producers of the show made no attempt to position themselves as superior to the material, no effort to show what life was “really” like in those bad old days, which was in fact pretty horrible for everyone below stairs and for half of those above it. Wodehouse deconstructed would be a sorry sight indeed, and we don’t get it. The only updating that has been done is pretty much limited to the occasional pig fart, and (probably) more “muck” jokes (manure) than P. G. would have allowed himself. Instead, we have the amiable Lord Emsworth (Timothy Spall), sporting a thoroughly “English” set of teeth, his amiable son Freddie Threepwood (Jack Farthing), his unamiable sister Lady Constance (Jennifer Saunders), and his stout butler Beach (played first by Mark Williams in the first season and by Tim Vine in the second), all cavorting and disporting themselves in a suitably Wodehousian manner. Freed from the burden of perfection, and avoiding on its own the burden of pretense, it’s pretty damned good road show all around, and I’m sorry it didn’t get a longer run.

Another invigorating look at the Roaring Twenties with a British accent—more substantial, this time around—comes from Down Under in the form of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, three full seasons of hour long treats on both Netflix and ABC that make Sydney, Australia look surprisingly like London—and sound like it too, because all the leads have surprisingly (to me) posh accents.7 Miss Fisher, played by the charming Essie Davis, is unsurprisingly and unchronologically up to date in all her attitudes, being (of course) independent and quite capable of clambering over walls and scaling buildings in pursuit of evil-doers, even in high heels. Phryne, as her first name is, has a sweet companion, Dorothy Williams (Ashleigh Cummings), somewhat lower down on the social scale and naturally a bit intimidated by Phryne’s upper class lack of inhibition. Both gals have steady Eddies, in the form of Chief Inspector John Robinson (Nathan Page) for Phryne and Constable Hugh Collins (Hugo Johnstone-Burt) for Dorothy. The Chief Inspector, virtually a walking Rock of Gibraltar and a titan of middle-class inhibitions, is naturally entranced by the wicked Miss Fisher, who keeps his Herculean physique tightly wrapped around her little finger for all three seasons, and it must be said that Constable Collins’ fate is only a little less circumscribed.

As should be obvious, Miss Fisher is largely a chick show, of particular interest, I would say, to women who worry about their boyfriends’ hair, because both the Chief Inspector and the Constable have coifs that are, invariably, perfect. Some of the “backstory” for the show—the bitterness many Australians felt at the way the “Mother Country” used them for its own purposes in World War 1, for example—shows some real thought. There is, unsurprisingly, a gaping omission when it comes to the subject of race, and the position of the “aborigines”, which in the twenties was entirely deplorable. Most unattractive is the difference in the treatment of two of Miss Fisher’s many lovers, one Chinese and one “black”. The Chinese lover comes from a prominent family, speaks excellent English, and has come to Australia to flee an arranged marriage in order to marry the woman he loves, whose father is a communist. The black lover is an extra in a film, has not a single line, and clearly functions as a one-night stud. Naughty, yes, but not very nice.

For now, that's it. So don't say nothing's on. Say almost nothing's on.

Latest and worst heavy TV of all is the execrable Game of Thrones. The sappy English accents alone make it unwatchable, not to mention the entire fur coats, tits, and bloody murder ethos of the damn show. Livin’ in the Age o’ Trump is already terrible, but this show makes it worse. ↩︎

As a young man, Wodehouse wrote “straight” rom com novels like Mike in the City and Leave it to Psmith!, whose heroes were impecunious public school men, rather like Wodehouse himself, ↩︎

The opening stanza of Book II of De Rerum Natura, aka “The Nature of Things”—a Roman catchphrase. People are always taking a look at rerum natura. ↩︎

Wodehouse did marry, Ethel May Wayman, an English widow. They had no children, but Wodehouse adopted Wayman’s daughter, to whom he was quite devoted. Supposedly, Ethel was the Jeeves to Plum’s Bertie. ↩︎

“First and last,” I squealed in impotent and ineffectual rage, “I was overwhelmingly put off by the idea that it’s okay, in any sense of the word, for five people to be knocking about in a house the size of Grand Central Station, with two or three dozen menials rushing about night and day to keep everything looking just so.” Blandings rather shamelessly elides the issue by pretending that Lord Emworth’s immense estate is cared for by a handful of servants, who spend most of their time either feeding cake to pigs or drinking sherry. ↩︎

Actually, Wodehouse’s stock characters are really pre-World War I, as George Orwell explains. Orwell’s essay discusses Wodehouse’s early work in some detail, on its way to giving what I found to be too much deference to Wodehouse’s unthinking behavior when captured by the German Army in France in 1940. Wodehouse gave a radio broadcast making it sound as though being imprisoned by the Germans was rather jolly. Wodehouse’s wife was also a prisoner, so it’s not surprising that he wanted to cooperate, but there’s a difference between cooperating and being coopted. I suspect that Wodehouse, like many rich people, hoped that the Nazis wouldn’t be so bad. ↩︎

A contemporary Australian series, Rake, also available on Netflix, which I gave up on because it kept expecting me to identify with a coke addict, features noticeably less posh accents. ↩︎

#tv #Archer #Call My Agent!#Blandings #Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries #Jeeves

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