#down jacket manufacturer

[angelinalifestyle]

Winter Fashion Guide To Enhance Winter Style

Oasis Jackets offers the definitive reference to winter fashion. Expert advice on layering, accessorizing, and choosing the ideal winter coats can help you stay warm and fashionable. With this guidance, you can easily master winter fashion, whether it's for formal or informal wear. This season, stay warm and try on some stylish styles! Read https://www.oasisjackets.com/a-simple-winter-fashion-guide-for-you-to-rely-on/

[thomsonsharon347]

All About The Differences Between Down Jackets And Padded Jackets

As a retailer, determined to bulk down jackets, go through this to learn what makes down jackets distinctively different from padded jackets.

[jacketssupplier]

How to Pick the Perfect Jacket For A Date

Do you want to know how to go for the right jacket for a date? Reading this blog, you will find all the important tips!

Visit: https://sites.google.com/view/oasis-jackets/blog/how-to-pick-the-perfect-jacket-for-a-date

[thechanelmuse]

Kendrick, Drake, and Ethnic/Cultural Identity

One of the most discussed topics during this exchange between the two is if Drake is a culture vulture. In short, yes. He's always been. It boils down to inherited cultural identity and respected history, not the upholding of a social construct of “race.” 

Race is a goofy non-biological caste system that operates in various countries and it’s a dumbass global push to get people to embrace a superior to inferior hierarchy in classifying the globe into 5 broad groups solely based on perceived skull sizes, hues of skin color, and perceived traits and phenotypic features via the teachings of François Bernier, Johann Blumenbach, Carl Linnaeus, and them other hoes. Get race tf outta here.

I’m gonna make this concise as possible, but fleshed out a bit for full understanding.

Kendrick Lamar is Black American on both sides with his roots most likely coming out of Mississippi and/or Alabama to Chicago to Cali by way of the Great Migration. (He may even descend from Duckworths from Louisiana). I haven’t done his genealogy, but now I may out of curiosity.

Black American is a double ethnicity. We’re citizens of America (nationality = US Citizen), and our ethnic group (Black) was created & descends from this land (ethnicity = American) through ethnogensis. It has nothing to do with one’s brown skin color or how the cops see us 🙃, but everything to do with the lineage of one’s parents and their parents, etc. (For info on lineage tracing, refer to my post here.) 

Black Americans are an ethnic group (the largest from this land and largest in this country after Germans), while “white Americans” are a self-identification race to remove ethnic identity and conflate numbers. I can break this down further in another post if y’all want since American history is complex and will explain why Black Americans have been reclassified seven times by the US government 🙃. 

Now.

Culture is largely passed down through your mother, and her mother, and her mother, and so forth for Black Americans (and I’m sure other ethnic groups). No matter if it’s a two-parent or single-parent household, she’s your ultimate teacher in setting the foundation of your cultural upbringing. It’s the same if one is raised by their grandparents. It largely stems from the grandmother. If one’s father is their main parent, that’s a different case of course. 

Drake falls in line with this as someone from a single-parent household. He is half Ashkenazi of Latvian and Russian descent (ethnicity) through his mother and of half Black American descent (ethnicity) through his father. He is a dual citizen of Canada and America (nationality), who was raised in Canada with his Ashkenazi Jewish mother and Ashkenazi relatives with an Ashkenazi upbringing. He went to a Jewish day school and was engulfed in all aspects at home. 

Kendrick is ethnically and culturally Black American. Drake is ethnically and culturally Ashkenazi. He is also ethnically Black American (through lineage), but not culturally Black American. Does that make Drake a culture vulture? No. He just didn’t have the cultural upbringing but could always immerse himself in learning, appreciating, and respecting the other half of his history and culture.

What makes him one is how he operates as an outsider. He participates in an aspect of Black American culture (Hip-Hop) for his monetary gain, adopts a manufactured image for his perception of believability, and disrespects the people of this culture. “…run to America to imitate culture.” It’s like a jacket to him. He takes it off to try on another (like a Jamaican accent) and swaps for another, etc. 

A few examples that’s been touched on: He blackened his face to depict blackface while wearing a Jim Crow t-shirt… That’s specific disrespect towards Black Americans, mocking our history and our ancestors. “Whipped and chained you like American slaves.” That’s specific disrespect towards Black Americans, mocking our history and our ancestors. “[You] always rappin' like you 'bout to get the slaves freed.” Do I even need to explain this? Hopefully it’s understood.

The muthafucka is not like us.

[infiniteeight8]

Omega fox Stephen

Alpha dragon tony

Canon au

No body knows their secondary and animal form

Pre ironman

Go wild !

I’ve done a few Sentinel spirit guide / daemon / animal form type prompts where whatever animal form they have is considered unusual or misunderstood. So this time I decided to go frame their forms as symbolically meaningful, but not otherwise special.

I’ve assumed that by “form” you mean that shapeshifting is a part of this type of AU. We only get a partial shift here, alas.

-

Stephen was less than impressed when he got called to the emergency room to do a neurological consult on Tony Stark. It was painfully obvious that the hospital administration only wanted to impress the billionaire. With that in mind, Stephen marched toward the room where Stark was being treated, his most icily professional mask firmly in place. If he pissed Stark off the hospital administration would eviscerate him, but that didn’t mean he had to pander to the man. 

Raised voices became audible some distance from the exam room, despite the closed door. “I’m fine. The airbag did its job, and I’ve already been evaluated by a doctor. I don’t want to waste the time of some specialist, I want to go home.”

“A car accident is serious—”

“It was a fender bender. I wasn’t injured.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“I’ve been seen by a doctor. If I was Joe Schmoe instead of Tony Stark, billionaire, I’d be gone by now.”

Anger mostly deflated by Stark’s understanding of the nature of the situation, Stephen pushed open the exam room door and stepped inside. Stark was standing next to the exam bed, his companion—a woman—standing across from him with her arms crossed. Both their gazes snapped to Stephen. “And now apparently you’re going to be seen by another one,” he said. “Miss, step outside, please.”

She started to protest, but Stark rolled his eyes. “Just go so we can get this over with.” Sighing, the woman left. Stark made a face. “Sorry about this, Doc. I know you have better things to be doing.”

“As do you,” Stephen said, beginning his exam. “But the hospital administration is a force to be reckoned with.”

“As is Pepper,” Stark replied, amused. 

Stephen ran through his exam as quickly as he responsibly could. Everything came back normal, of course. When they were done, Stephen offered Stark his hand. “Thank you for cooperating.” Stark could easily have taken his frustration out of Stephen.

Stark snorted. “You’re welcome,” he said dryly, taking Stephen’s hand.

As their hands closed around each other, Stark’s eyes lightened to a brilliant gold, his pupils narrowed to slits, and scales spread from the corners of his eyes down his throat. With only a partial shift to go on, someone else might have mistaken Stark for a snake-form, but Stephen was a doctor. “You’re a dragon,” he blurted out, startled.

“And you’re a fox,” Stark replied, eyeing the pointed ears and fur that Stephen had sprouted. “Unusual, for a doctor. You must do research.”

‘Unusual’ was the pot calling the kettle black here. Dragons were powerful protective forms; it was very nearly the last form Stephen would have guessed for a weapons manufacturer. “I do,” Stephen answered aloud. Reluctantly, he let go of Stark’s hand. Both of their forms faded back into a regular human appearance. “I apologize,” he went on. “I wear gloves for more intimate exams, but handshakes aren’t supposed to trigger reactions like that. Not unless—”

Not unless the two were an exceptionally compatible alpha/omega pair.

Stark gave him a faint smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “Am I good to go now?”

Stephen blinked, refocusing on his work. “Yes, of course. You’re fine.”

“Thanks, doc,” Stark said, scooping up a jacket draped over a nearby chair and heading for the exam room door. Once there, he paused and glanced back. “This is just between us, right?”

“Docter-patient confidentiality,” Stephen assured him.

“Good.” Stark nodded briskly, and then he was gone.

Stephen knew that they were far from an appropriate match. Walking out immediately was the right choice. But despite that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, with Stark’s departure…

…he’d lost something.

[sionisjaune]

Mika/Nico 2004 Arctic Rally flirtation on the occasion of @blorbocedes ‘s birthday!

Mika is stripping down to his thermals when the kid slinks inside his cabin, bundled in a thick winter coat, tufts of blonde hair poking out underneath a knit hat. He bites the inside of his cheek, manufacturing a reason to grimace instead of welcoming Nico into his arms like he used to do when he could still call himself innocent. 

“Not your cabin,” says Mika, tugging off a sweaty glove and tossing it on the countertop.

Nico shuts the door behind him and braces himself against it, nose red from the chill outside. His entire face, or at least the part visible between the collar of his coat and the hem of his hat, is chafed red and blotchy. He licks his lips, and Mika’s gaze lingers on the chapped and wind-bitten skin of his mouth. 

“My dad snores,” Nico mumbles. “Just wanted to get some rest—”

“No,” says Mika, immediately. He knows what Nico’s going to ask of him, and he knows that if Nico asks it outright, he’s going to say yes. 

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” says Nico, pouting rather childishly. Mika wonders what it says about him that he finds Nico’s worst moments attractive.

“No,” says Mika again. “Go back to your room. Cabins are for competitors only.”

Nico tilts his head, still tucked against the door in his coat. Mika watches him shuck his scarf and toss it haphazardly on Mika’s sofa. “I could compete,” says Nico. “I’m good on the ice.” 

“You’re not—” says Mika.

Nico cuts him off, a sparkle in his eye. “Old enough?”

“Used to rally,” Mika finishes. “It’s an entirely different sport.” 

“Really?” says Nico, eyes widening. It’s obvious what he’s doing. Mika strips off his other glove and lets it happen anyway, peeling his racesuit down his chest to hang around his hips. Nico makes a parallel move, drawing the zipper open and shimmying the coat down his arms to reveal a tanned neck and collarbones, the result of a half-Finn unaccustomed to his native climate. Mika doesn’t know why Keke bothered to drag him to Lapland to spectate. “Explain it to me,” says Nico. He drops his jacket on the floor and joins his scarf on Mika’s sofa, curling his legs underneath him.

“First of all, you have a co-driver in the car with you,” says Mika. He tugs the racesuit the rest of the way down, pulling it off his ankles one leg at a time. He was going to make use of the cabin’s meager hot water tank and shower off the sweat sticking to his skin, but with Nico around it’s probably best he keeps his clothing on. 

Nico shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself as if to stave off the cold. “I could handle that. I already have an engineer in F3.”

“It’s a different relationship,” Mika corrects. He can’t help but fall into this avuncular role with Nico, like Keke is still in the room.

“A relationship,” Nico purrs, learning over the edge of the couch. Mika bites the inside of his cheek, wondering where Nico learned this from. He stalls for time by folding his racesuit into a neat little rectangle and setting it on the countertop beside his gloves. It reeks of stale sweat and the ankles are damp with melted snow, but if Nico minds he doesn’t say anything. 

Mika sinks into the armchair opposite Nico and watches Nico furtively scoot towards the end of the sofa closest to Mika. His bare arms are startlingly skinny against the thin fabric of a white singlet. The faded jeans make him look like a ten-euro hooker, even though Mika knows Nico doesn’t wear anything that costs less than a hundred. 

“I bet you disregard your engineer all the time,” says Mika.

“No I don’t,” says Nico. 

Mika gives him a meaningful look. 

“Fine,” says Nico. “Sometimes. But only when he’s wrong.”

“Ah,” says Mika. “The difference is that your co-driver cannot be wrong. You trust him implicitly. If he says full-throttle, you don’t break until the finish line.” 

Nico wrinkles his nose. “I can’t picture you taking orders from anybody.” 

Mika raises a hand to massage his temples. “When I need to,” he says. The hand in front of his eyes conveniently blocks his view of Nico curled up on the corner of the couch, but he can still hear Nico twisting and fidgeting around. 

“Tired?” says Nico. 

“Yes,” says Mika. 

“Me too,” says Nico. He shuffles around on the couch again, and then seems to still. A moment later, Mika feels him plop down on the arm of the chair next to him. He drapes his long legs over Mika’s lap and leans close to his ear. Mika removes his hand from his face just in time for a lock of Nico’s hair to fall in his face while Nico murmurs in his ear. “And I’m cold. It’s fucking freezing in here.” 

Mika bites the inside of his cheek again. The flesh is getting raw, like it always does around Nico. 

“Nico,” he warns. 

“What?” says Nico. He’s completely irreverent. 

Mika shifts to create more space between himself and Nico’s skinny frame. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what?” says Nico.

“You know what,” says Mika. 

“I just want to warm up,” says Nico, curling closer. 

“I have to race tomorrow,” says Mika. He can hear his own voice wavering.

The corners of Nico’s mouth curl like a cat toying with its prey. “Nothing that will make you sore.” 

Mika exhales, rubbing his temples again. “Not even pretending anymore?” 

Hearing his permission, Nico slides into Mika’s lap and surrounds him like his limbs are made of putty. He wraps his arms around Mika’s neck and attaches his mouth to the skin above the collar of Mika’s thermal shirt. “I don’t need to,” he whispers. “Besides, don’t you want to see what I’m wearing under this?”

[gremlins-hotel]

alfred rocking some different flight jackets (nerd stuff under cut)

The flight jacket, an iconic piece of any aviator's outerwear. Before they ever became symbols of fashion and the 'exalted' place that came with the occupation of pilot, the flight jacket as we know it was first made for function. Aircraft of World War I and the earliest designs were open cockpit machines, and many would remain that way in the Interbellum. All that to say this paramount paraphernalia's original purpose was to keep an aviator warm in the sky.

Keep in mind that the images above may not reflect every specimen of their type. Jackets differed in design by manufacturer, production block, and even by the military branch (Navy jackets also often have a different name) & unit ordering them. A great example is the wide range of looks for the quintessential B-3. My apologies in advance for them being all American designs. I would love to show off some of the British flight jackets, but I would rather do a little more research (and practice drawing Arthur more)!

A-1 (1927-1931) A thin leather jacket designed for lower altitudes and made with a flattering fit high on the waist, the A-1 was the kickstart to the wide variety the Army Air Corps would come to know. The A-1 had differing designs between the Navy and the infant Air Corps, and early A-1s are distinguished by having seven buttons and a knit collar, which later models did not keep. However, later models did retain the knit waistband and cuffs.

A-2 (1931-1943) The direct successor to the A-1, the A-2 quickly replaced its older brother. This is one of the more recognizable jackets from the States after becoming the standard for the Air Corps in the early 1930s. The quality of the jackets would fall due to wartime rationing, with early designs of horsehide and silk becoming goatskin and cotton, however, the general look remained. The A-2 was still primarily for open cockpit designs, lower altitudes, and warmer climes. Identifiable from the A-1 by its snap-down leather collar, zipper, and varying shapes and sizes of a hook-and-eye clasp at the collar to close it.

G-1 (1938-present) This looker would replace the A-2 in form and function during the 1940s, first becoming popular with the Army and Navy before being adopted by USAAF. Originally named the ANJ-3/AN-J-3 the jacket gained its new designation by the time the Air Corps caught on. The G-1 came with a mouton collar and a bi-swing back to allow for greater arm movement, meanwhile, it lacked the over-zipper 'wind flap' of its predecessors. A keen eye for pop culture might realize that this is the jacket from the 1986 hit Top Gun.

B-3 (1934-1943) Ah, the B-3! Commonly known simply as the "bomber jacket," the B-3 was made with a high-altitude bomber in mind, unlike previous designs. Incredibly bulky and lined with sheepskin the B-3 was made to keep crews at 25,000 feet above from freezing in their unpressurized cabins, with many such as the early B-17 Flying Fortresses possessing open waist gunner ports. The wide collar could be closed with two leather straps and the jacket did not come with the famous knit waistband or cuffs that others did. "The General" was a B-3 design made specifically for General George S. Patton, who popularized the B-3 outside of the Air Corps. (The B-3 had a slimmer cousin - the B-6 - designed as the 'quality of life' inside bombers improved, such as pressurized cabins.)

B-7 (1941-1942) Short-lived, the B-7 Parka was manufactured for pilots operating in the brutal cold of Alaska. However, not much is known of it due to its limited production. In fact, the B-7 was discontinued swiftly due to its high manufacturing cost. Either way, the B-7 is a funky one-off that is easily distinguishable from the lineup by its three-quarter length and coyote-lined hood.

B-15 (1944-1954) The infamous green flight jacket that many today typically know as the "bomber jacket". The B-15 quickly replaced its older brother, the B-10 (1943-1944). Like other designs it had many variations. Similar to the G-1, the B-15 shared the same pocket design and lack of a wind flap, yet the B-15 was cloth with a mouton collar and a knit waistband and cuffs. The shell was produced in a range of materials including nylon and cotton-rayon. It was lighter weight and far less warm than its sheepskin predecessors and spoke to the advancements in aviation technology. A quirk of its design that soon became standard was the designated pen pocket on the upper left arm.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[leclerced]

Max’ merch got me thinking that he’d love so much when his girl would wear his clothes. She always complains he actually has so much of red bull’s merch and she loves it on race weekends but not always. Kind of a girlfriend effect too because I can see him buying more ‚normal’ clothes. She loves to wear his buttons up in the mornings and his hoodies, jumpers in the evenings. And he always goes feral when he sees her

more soft bf max <333

i kinda love his merch. i wanna order some and see how it is from a manufacturing standpoint. i got some enchante chalet tees and they r nice but honestly super big compared to all my other tees so i wanna see how max’s compare

she loves the pride he has in his team and wearing his own merch branded with a number one, loves to steal his hats and shirts so she can show her support and that would drive him crazy, especially when they’re out and she steals the cap off his head and puts it on her own. but she also loves when he swaps out his team polos for a sweater or a nice button down. like she always compliments him but it’s different when she grabs the lapels of a new jacket and pulls him in for a kiss, before pulling away and telling him to turn around and whistling as he does so.

could see him buying clothes bc he wants her to be impressed with him !! like she compliments him on a specific color and he buys more things in it and every time she’s like “wow have i ever told you i love that color on you? my handsome boy” and he’s the happiest he’s ever been. except for maybe when he sees her in his clothes and he teases her for wearing it better than him.

she always steals his shirts to sleep in, and lounges around in his hoodies. would be late many mornings because he wakes up and finds her in his shirt from the day before and it still smells like him for the most part but her perfume has rubbed off on it and he can’t help but keep her in bed as long as possible

she’d get cold in the garage and disappear, so he’s looking around for her and starting to panic when she returns swaddled in one of his hoodies, and he just starts smiling like an idiot bc he’s just so overwhelmed with how much he loves her.

[trivialbob]

Yesterday I had a great time in Wisconsin.

Early in the morning I cooked a traditional eggs and sausage breakfast. When I finished eating I walked around the campground, talking to people. I crossed paths with a lot of nice people this weekend. During my walk a group of campers were cooking eggs and bacon outside. Despite having just eaten a similar big breakfast the smell made me feel hungry again.

Eventually I drove to town to re-fill the propane tank. When I buy propane at home I pay a cashier first then show an attendant my receipt before he fills the tank. At the place in Wisconsin the owner (I think he was) came outside. I asked if I should pay before he filled or while he filled the tank.

"You can pay now if you want. Or you can talk with me while I fill the tank," he replied.

Being who I am, asked all sorts of questions about his experiences filling propane tanks while he filled mine. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my interest. There were no horror stories. He explained how he inspects the tank's date of manufacture and makes sure it's safe to re-fill. Back home I've never noticed the attendant pay much attention to the tank, nor is he into small talk either.

After that I went down the road to the place our friends own for a bloody Mary and a small pizza. I like the garnish in a separate glass and the chaser. I looked over several side-by-sides in the parking lot, including one flying two large American flags (the pictures at the top).

After lunch I returned to the campground -- and took a two hour nap. Why not. It felt like vacation. When I got up I met more people at the campground. It's been only two weekends but I'm very happy Sheila chose this place for a year.

Then I went on a bicycle ride. Because I was on some 45-55 MPH roads I wore a hi-viz jacket and had all my blinky lights going.

Almost everyone who drove towards me waived. Drivers who passed me gave wide berth. Two farmers on tractors subtly waved and nodded their heads my way. That made me smile. Approaching an Amish buggy, I figured the woman and boy in it might not appreciate my bright, flashy garb and blinking lights. But they smiled brightly and waved. That really made me grin.

In the evening I went to a different small town, the one I had been to the previous night. I was keen on having a beer at the bar that shares my first name.

First picture below is a sign on the way into town that I found amusing. Second picture is inside Mr. Bob's bar.

I should have taken a selfie, to show EXACTLY how many customers were in there at 6 PM. Later someone told me Mr. Bob's doesn't get busy until late at night. The bartender was a decent woman, but I felt she looked at me like "Why the heck are you here so early? Now I have to stop what I'm doing to serve you." It's not like I woke up the owner to serve me beer at 7 AM. I should have asked why they don't simply unlock the doors at 10 PM.

Since there was no one to chat with at Mr. Bob's I went around the corner to a taproom I had on my list of places to try. I was not disappointed.

There are 20 beers on tap. Not one of them has Light in the name. I chose a flight of four.

Next summer, sometime when Sheila drives, I plan to order the Dirty Knapp. It's served in that large, Swiss-cheese-looking circle below. For $48 you get a four-ounce beer from each of the 20 taps. That's five pints. I'm not a college student any more, but I think I can pull it off if I skip lunch and dinner :)

At the bar I sat with two other guys my age and a younger woman. The bartender was funny. The five of us laughed pretty hard while telling stories.

Because I had to drive back in the dark, along deer-infested county roads, I didn't drink any more beer after that flight. I was having so much fun talking to the others I didn't want to leave. So I tried some non-alcoholic drinks. I've seen hop water before, just never tried it. I liked it. It reminded me of some odd flavor of La Croix. I also had a non-alcoholic IPA. It tasted like real beer without making me buzzed.

To complete my night, some neighbors invited me to join them and their friends around a camp fire. More laughter and stories.

Fun times. I'm looking forward to going back a few more times before we have to winterize the trailer.

[milfswriter]

Can you do CEO! rhea ripley x FEM! reader and rhea is in a meeting in her office, and reader is sitting on the couch or smth and decides to tease rhea by taking her clothes off infront of her

Word prompt : “ don’t make me punish you“

If you can do it thank you, if you can’t I understand <333

Sorry guys for the slow posts LOL. I’m having motivation withdrawal if that’s even a thing.

Control

CEO!Rhea Ripley x reader Summary: you're bored in Rhea's office, you take matters into your own hand.

Notes and warnings: smut, teasing, spanking, fingering, edging, mentions of alcohol?, lmk if there's anything else.

It was boring. Rhea told you she'd be done in an hour but now it's been two and a half and she showed no sign of finishing up anytime soon. She kept you busy with many milkshakes and appetizers she told her assistant to bring you whenever she saw your patience wavering.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to what the guy in the Zoom meeting was rambling about, clearly not agreeing with whatever point he was trying to make. You took this as a chance to gain her attention.

"Well, Mr Thorne, I thi-" she was cut off by the sight in front of her. Your jacket off, your button-up shirt halfway unbuttoned as you approached her desk with your hands in your pockets. She gulped in surprise, blinking before turning back to her webcam.

"I think the number of sales should be raised by 40% by next year or I will stop the manufacturing of these motherboards. No matter how stable the sales are, I want higher" she could see you with the side of her eye, pacing back and forth in front of her, your sleeves raised to your elbow as you waited for the right moment to strike.

Other people started talking, you saw her press the mute button before leaning back against her chair, joining her hands on her lap as she crossed her legs. "Sit back on that couch. Don't make me punish you" she kept her professional face on, considering the webcam was still on.

You let out a whine, "you're taking too long. Didn't know Miss Ripley's so bad at keeping promises" her face hardened even more at the name, her eyes narrowing.

"I did not promise you anything, I gave you an estimate" her tone was still hard, whatever meeting that was was definitely stressing her out.

"An underestimate for sure. I am not one of your employees" you reminded, "turn that camera off, I wanna come closer"

She reached for the mouse and gave it a little click, moving her chair back to give you space.

You smirked, loving the hold you had on the powerful CEO. You walked to her ever so slowly, rounding the desk, and were going to straddle her before she turned you and bent you over the desk before you can comprehend what was happening.

"you think you can tell me what to do, hm? you want me to turn the camera back on..want them to see Miss Ripley's pet get punished?"

You let out a groan, disappointed that your previous teasing wasn't entirely working according to plan. she pulled you up against her front, her hands continuing your work of unbuttoning your shirt before groping your breasts through your black lace bra.

"Answer me, slut" she ordered, hand snaking around your throat as you nodded. "yes..yes ma'am" you whispered, turning your head to make eye contact with the taller woman who gave you a softer look than you expected in return.

"Miss Ripley? you with us?" she rolled her eyes at the voice, placing a hand on your back to keep you there while the other reached for the mouse again to unmute herself.

"M’right here.. go on, Thorne" she muted herself once more, reached under you to unbutton your pants and pulled them down your legs.

“Mhm..you’re gonna keep quiet, and take your punishment"

A yelp echoed through the office as her palm connected with your ass, rubbing it after to soothe you. You tried moving away from her when she struck again but she kept you in place with one hand. Her strength often turned you on, but it was definitely a disadvantage to you this time.

“Oh no, baby. Told you you’re gonna get punished, but you had to act like a little whore instead of waiting for me to finish" she nipped at the shell of your ear.

"you gave me no choice, though!"

"shut up, y/n/n" she let out a chuckle, "now..you're gonna count for me" before you could even think of protesting, she struck again.

"fuck, one.." she kept going, barely giving you any time to breathe. "god! nine.."

"that's it, one more..I'm going easy on you 'cause this meeting is the last thing I wanna do on this earth"

She rubbed your now-dark red cheeks, her middle finger sneaking between them to collect your slick, a groan leaving her mouth at your wetness.

"Oh, would you look at that..you got this wet from being punished?" she mocked you with a pout, turning your head by your hair to face her.

"Look at me while I fuck you" you let out a gasp as you felt two digits enter you ever so slowly, the voices of Rhea's unfazed employees playing in the background along with the sounds of your slick as your girlfriend fucked you into her desk.

"oh..g..god" you grinded against her fingers, her free hand coming to fist your hair, pulling it back to see you properly as she whispered filth into your ear.

She lifted one of your legs to reach even deeper inside you, your scream telling her it was a good decision. "That's it, good girl. Take your punishment" a hearty laugh escaped her throat at the sight of you, begging at her mercy.

She knew you were close. Your thighs clenching impossibly tight around her fingers they began to cramp, breath heavy, and your back arched as a bow.

As you began to shake and writhe under her, she removed her fingers and herself from you completely. "no, FUCK!" you whined loudly, your face contorting in the mixture of pleasure and pain.

There was no sound behind you, you tried to turn your head to look for Rhea but failed miserably due to the exhaustion and cramping you felt from being bent over the desk for over twenty minutes.

"R...Rhea?" you called, your voice hoarse.

"here, bunny" she was suddenly in front of the desk, crossing her arms in victory as she saw your state. "Come, we'll go home. And maybe you'll get your reward"

She saw your failed attempt to get up and walked back over to you, holding you into her as she pulled your pants back up, buttoning them and pulling the zipper up. She let you sit in her chair, something she doesn't often do.

Rhea got you a glass of water from the shelf where she keeps her whiskey and other alcoholics she chugs whenever work gets on her nerves.

"You're cruel" you mumbled, chugging the whole glass. She shook her head with a laugh, leaning down to kiss your lips. You pulled her into you by her blazer, jerking when her knee purposely accidentally pressed against your sensitive dissatisfied core.

Yep. You weren't getting out of there anytime soon.

Taglist:

@obsessedwithwwewomen @ara-a-bird @jungwoospeach @yourmisosoup @cameronsdruthers @dementedtrashcat @children-scareme

[sol-consort]

I was making tiny clay cats earlier and had a great idea for an ask, but then I got busy and forgot

I think it was something about fashion with the mass effect species

Electronically sending you a fictional tiny clay cat statue

Thank for the tiny clay cat, I'll put it on the virtual table that I keep in this blog at all times, which is a real table that happened to have a unique eco-friendly design, from an eccentric manufacturer, and definitely not just two logs I lugged from the woods.

🕔

🌱🐈 🪟🏙

🪵🪵 🧺 🩲 🪤 🐁

I hope my virtual son 🧒 (common) ×1 doesn't knock it off with his virtual ball ⚽️ (common) ×1 because I won't financially recover from the purchase of the virtual gold 🪙 (rare) ×99 I'd need to glue the pieces of the broken clay cat back together in order to teach him about Kintsugi, the value of history and taking pride in the scars it leaves on ones body.

But yes, Mass Effect alien species fashion.

I mentioned before that the asari would definitely be into human fashion since we share a similar physical build.

They tend to mix up the centuries, however, wearing Edwardian era garments one day, and then full-on ancient Rome with draped tunics the next one.

To us, that seems silly because it's our history. These fashion designs are centuries old, and our first ever impressions on them were in textbooks or some other non-fashionable place. You wouldn't have a woollen toga at a strip mall where tweens naturally went with their overbearing parents to develop a sense of style.

But to the asari, all of these clothes are brand new! Just in! The latest fashion trends! From the perspective of their timeline, their society started integrating skinny jeans at the same time as robe à la française.

And the fact they live for 1000 years, the entirety of human recorded history is just two asari generations—would help them see our ancient fashion as more of "last Wednesday's"

Although many human cultures do keep their tradition clothes alive, like the hanfu being used in Chinese festives, or the Arab thawb still worn as in commonplace same as it was in 600 AD.... because what other garment is more suitable for desert climates?

Okay back to aliens, my fashion hyperfixation is showing

The asari are easy peasy, it's like two sister civilisations deciding to share their wardrobes and doubling the amount of clothes they retroactively have access to now.

You see many humans on the Citadel adapt to asari fashion, and as the game progresses, you notice asari fashion start getting influenced by predominantly human-fashion traits. Take Ryder's clothes in Andromeda for example.

The Alliance uniforms must seem ancient to the new humans with their cross-species influenced fashion trends, and I do mean ancient.

They probably view them (alongside our current modern hot-trendy fashion), like how me and you view the Victorian era fashion through a thick lens of rose-tinted glass. I wear corsets over flowy blouses, corsets, the thing that used to be considered underwear.

It's just very socially accessible now. Would someone someday wear a 2000's cheetah print thong over their military uniform in the alliance and call it fashion? Who's to say.

You see those modern two-piece suits with neon vibrant colours? The ones with precise cuts, invisible stiches, and all the pieces—down to the jacket buttons—are made from the same exact material and colour?

Someone is gonna dig that up in the year of Mass Effect and call it vintage and it's gonna piss me the fuck off, the trajectory of the earth will be altered from the massive rolls I'll be doing in my grave.

For the rest of the species, I don't see them adapting our garments due to anatomy incompatibility.

But fashion is the keyword here, because it is so much more than just clothes.

None of the asari have eyebrows, they don't have the genes for hair, therefore no eyebrows or anything.

Except, Liara, who has drawn-on (or perm tat) eyebrows.

Which is a VERY human feature, eyebrows might as well be the trademark of humanity. What do you do to an animal in animation to humanise it and make it seem intelligent?

You add eyebrows.

Liara, this rando asari scientist, for some reason, is elbow-deep into human makeup. Literally, no other asari has eyebrows or showed care for human makeup besides her.

We humans can't see our own "invisible" stripes, our faces are usually a blank canvas, which is why makeup is so fun, pretty, and whimsical. It's the same reason you'd add flowers to your hair or draw at the empty corner of the page.

Asari have their own seemingly natural face markings (unless those are drawn too) and putting makeup on top of them might seem distasteful or even tacky. Like drawing over someone's complete drawing.

But you know which species LOVES adding lines to their face? None other than space birbs themselves, the humble turians.

Humans like sunsets, birds like shiny things, and turians love glitter.

Of course, there are zero evidence of that ingame because they wanted the turians to have a metal, baddass, slightly scary aesthetic, and that's fair.

But if we're being realistic, it's just a matter of time before a turian decides to incorporate glitter into their clan face paint. It's a natural instinct for them to be the bird with the shinest, puffest, most colourful coat of feathers in the room.

Turians would love human makeup, wasn't it for the fact it's deadly toxic to them. Thanks, dextro. I mean, not like that ever stopped humans before. Remember when lipstick used to contain lead and mercury? Good time, good times.

But actually, now thinking about it, would those things be poisonous to them? Lead and mercury? I mean, they're already radioactive with a shit ton of copper in their bloodstream. Their body literally grows metal on their faces... and turian seminal fluid is poisonous to humans, meaning...

They might be able to use mineral based makeup! Which is so fucking deadly to humans, but probably fine for turians.

Although the human skin is spongey, the creamy make-up sticks to the top of it like icing on a cake. But it might not latch onto rough metal, aka turian plates.

It's also made with so many oils in mind because humans are actually very slimy, we just never notice it because our pores are so small and the thin layer of oil is hardly noticeable.

It's why bugs find us disgusting and wash our oill off of them after touching us, too bad they still need our delicious nutritious dead skincells and sweat to slurp up, so they endure it for the sake of food.

But we do, in fact, require being moist 24/7. It's where the "soft" skin feeling comes from, silly, being drenched in oil throughout your whole existence does that sometimes.

And turian metals do not, actually the oils might just bleach their shells if left to oxidise.

No, turian makeup wouldn't work if it was creamy or liquidiy like ours—even with the added lead.

My proposal: Chalk Makeup.

It's dry, it's crumbly, it's easy to remove. You ever drawn with chalk on street concrete? Would probably be the same as applying makeup to a turian.

And it has calcium! Yummy yum! Which the turians probably need a shit ton of, considering that most creatures with some kind of shell do insatiably crave it (see: sanils)

My last nugget of wisdom is that what's considered fashion to the geth/ai/synthetics in general isn't that far off from high-end, very personalised custom gaming pcs. Be it the pastel and white hardshells or the neons and glowing cooling liquids.

Hipster geth prefer the fruitger ero early 2010's aesthetic, enjoy that mental image for a while.

[angelinalifestyle]

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[hinge]

Not-So FAQ for LGBTQIA+ daters

A growing resource addressing LGBTQIA+ daters' most pressing questions

Hear more about #HingeNFAQ from Roxane and Debbie at https://hinge.nfaq.co

[thomsonsharon347]

Top 6 Events And Occasions Where You Can Wear A Fur Coat

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[jacketssupplier]

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[stark-ironman]

Mob Boss Intro

18+ No Minors!!

A/N: I know... I was supposed to post part 3 of the Firefighter AU but I have bad adhd and wrote this instead. If you have any ideas or questions or anything really, send me an ask!!

------

"Shit"

You curse to yourself as you miss the bus, again, due to the fact you had to work late. Working late isn't a problem but when you just recently wrecked your vehicle on top of not having a place to park a bike so it wouldn't get stolen, it became kind of a pain to revolve your life around a bus schedule. You start walking, sticking your hands in your jacket as the winter wind picks up.

Snow starts falling and you look up, cursing some more as you hear a car pull up beside you. "Need a ride?" The guy asks as you keep walking. "No thanks, I'm good." You say not looking back at him. "The news station is calling for a blizzard and I don't think you want to be in it whenever it hits." He tries to reason. "I'm not too far from my house so you can go on ahead." You tell him. "I give you my word I won't hurt you. You could even drive my car if it made you feel safer." The guy states and you stop.

"If I get in the car would it get you to stop pestering me." You ask as he smirks. "Maybe." He chuckles. The snow picks up and you sigh, getting in his car. "Straight to my road and that's it. I'll walk to my house after that." You state as you type the road name in and he starts driving.

"Don't trust me, huh?" He asks with a chuckle. "I don't allow people I don't know to my house." You say. "My name is Tony. Tony Stark." Tony says glancing at you. "Y/N Y/L/N." You mutter. "So see, now we're not strangers." A laugh falls from his lips after saying that. You roll your eyes and look out the window.

"I couldn't help but notice the scrubs. Are you a nurse?" He asks. "Doctor, actually." You correct. "Holy shit, really? Damn." He exclaims. "What? Are you shocked by that?" You ask. "Well shocked that I picked up a doctor on the side of the road." Tony says turning down the road. "Wrecked my vehicle a couple weeks ago so I haven't had a chance to get a new one." You say. "Well I told you what I do for a living so tell me what you do." You say.

He ponders for a bit before saying, "I own Stark Industries and a few other... business." You look over at him and debate on questioning him but decide not to. "Isn't Stark Industries a weapons company?" You ask instead. "Was. Now we manufacture a number of things ranging from science equipment for space to anti-pollution stuff and we just branched out into the medical field actually." He says.

"You must be a pretty smart guy then." You look over at him. "I don't like to brag but since you brought it up, I am." Tony says with a smile.

"Just drop me off up here." You tell him.

He nods and parks on the side of the road.

"I could always just take you home. The storm is getting worse and a doctor like yourself doesn't need to get sick." Tony tries to offer. "I'm pretty sure I can handle a little snow. Thank you for the offer though." Grabbing your stuff, you step out of the car but he stops you. "Can I at least give you my number just in case you ever need a ride again?" He asks.

"I got a feeling you will keep pestering me until I say yes." You groan. He smirks, "I'm a man who likes to take his chances when he sees them." "Fine but I'm not promising to call." You agree, handing him your phone. Tony types his number in and hands it back to you, smiling softly.

"Goodbye, Tony." You say. "Goodbye, Y/N."

You get out and start walking to your house, feeling your phone buzz when you're halfway there.

"Let me know when you make it home. I'm still parked down the road just incase. -T"

That little shit sent himself your number.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - The Best of 2023

We made it to the end of the year!! I read…a lot. A lot. According to my records, I read: 

1300 fic 

15million words 

98% of that was SteveTony and narrowing that down to my favorite 10 was…a mission. Here you go--And I’d LOVE to hear what your favorite reads of the year was. 

~

Trust Fall by Sineala

Tony needs someone who cares about him, bandages, a jacket, ibuprofen, dinner, a lasting romantic relationship, a nice time in bed, and assistance committing federal crimes. He gets them. In that order.

Gather Ye Rosebuds by lazywriter7

It isn’t like that, for many people. For them, love is the point: the axis around which everything else revolves, the destination at the end of a long, tumultuous journey. Realisation, confession, resolution. Happy ending. That’s how it goes. And love was a point in Tony Stark’s journey, except it came towards the beginning, rather than the end. The issue, instead of the solution.

He hasn’t been alone on the trip, of course. Steve’s been there: sometimes three steps behind, sometimes waiting up ahead by the turn of the road. They’ve sprinted and stumbled, sometimes stood still and refused to move on ahead, sometimes thought of turning away altogether.

Steve and Tony’s story began after they fell in love, and this is about how they fell in everything else.

a rose by any other name by meidui

“Just Steve,” he says quickly, softly, and his voice is music to Tony’s ears. “Please call me Steve.”

Tony can’t help but stare as it occurs to him that he should have prepared a proper greeting. What on earth is someone so young and pretty doing in an engagement like this?

-

There are a lot of things about Steve that make this arrangement easier than Tony thought it would be, but then there are a lot of things about him that complicate it, too.

Second Chance Lives by raeldaza 

Tony's gonna die of palladium poisoning anyway, why not join a pointless expedition to recover Captain America’s body? And after, well, why not dedicate his last few months to making sure an American hero settles into his new life? What else is he going to do, get drunk at parties?

My Known Unknown by shetlandowl

That True Lies AU nobody asked for, set in a world where Stane Inc is the world's foremost weapons manufacturer, and Tony's employer.

I could lie tangent to your curves by RurouniHime

Steve is bodyguard to a prominent young socialite with too much genius on his hands... and who has taken an unfortunate shine to him.

Not a Breakup by Annie D (scaramouche)

Tony knew it was a bad idea to start sleeping with Steve. It could mess up team dynamics, make things even more awkward between them in the future, or just plain get in the way of their trying to save the world. Tony foresaw all of the above but not the advent of feelings, and at the most inopportune moment.

now I worship a celestial sun by haemodye

The thing that gets Tony the most is how long it takes him to notice.

Not Steve, or even the other Avengers, but Tony himself. It takes Tony almost two whole weeks to figure out that he’s unable to disobey a direct order from Steve, which just- what the hell is that? What happened to the days when he flew off the handle, unable to play well with others, a notorious wild card?

“God, don’t tell me I’m getting old and predictable,” he says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. And then, “Fuck.”

A mostly-comedic farce involving: 1 obedience spell, 2 pining Avengers, 1 long-suffering Sorcerer Supreme, and 1 single, extravagant Saint Patrick's Day float.

Can't Write One Song (That's Not About You) by FestiveFerret 

Ten years ago, Tony fell in love with his roommate: funny, handsome, kind, smart Steve Rogers, who also happened to be the lead singer and guitarist of a band, The Howlies.

Then The Howlies made it big, Steve moved away, and Tony vowed to avoid any mention of the band, their songs, and the man he missed his chance with.

But chance has a way of giving you exactly what you need, even if you don't know it yet...

[Podfic of] When The Lights Go On Again by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid, kalakirya, KD reads (KDHeart), lattice_frames, lavenderfrost, miss_marina95, Opalsong, paraka, Superstitiousme, vassalady

Aliens have invaded earth, and the Avengers are scattered. While Steve leads the resistance, Tony once again finds himself playing captive scientist. In the midst of a violent alien regime, separated by seemingly insurmountable boundaries, Steve and Tony have nothing to keep themselves going but each other.