#they are an advert for women as a collective

[paverics]

begging eni aluko to shut the fuck up and stop doing a disservice to women involved in football

[lokisgoodgirl]

Hot & Bothered [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (13) A slutty caftan threatens to break your resolve. Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Smuttish. Language. "Friends"w/ benefits. (w/c 4.6k)

Since the mission where Loki revealed he could see into your mind, you had stayed a rooms width from him at all times. You had no idea if it would make a difference. You hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. But it made you feel better.

At least, that was what you told yourself.

You would admit that a month without Loki in your bed felt like twelve. But if the asshat did have the audacity to leer into your thoughts- all he would see is simmering rage. It made you feel better, knowing that. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Steve’s chevy drew carefully into a marked bay to the excited squeals of Wanda and Nat sandwiching you in the back seat. “Now ladies don’t get too excited..." Steve drawled. "Let’s all disembark in an orderly fashion.” He gently pulled up the handbrake, giving it an overcautious tug. “It’s the beach, not a bordello. Most accidents happen twenty feet from your destination and carelessness...costs lives.” He glanced over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow judgementally at the three of you jostling in the seats like rowdy children. You pursed your lips to stifle a laugh. Only Rogers could make a day out at the beach with three half naked women in the back of his open top car into a lesson in health and safety. “Yes, Sir.” Wanda said reverently, as you and Nat begin to shake with silent laughter. Steve frowned, his next remark interrupted by the growling roar of an approaching engine. A green Jaguar swung into the bay beside the chevy screeching to a halt against the tarmac with a furious skid. Steve’s frown deepened. “Remind me who taught Laufeyson to drive, again?” You rolled your eyes, avoiding the sight that was about to present itself. “May we disembark now?” you sniped, trying to stay the urgency in your voice. “Yes Ma’am.” he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the doors of the Jag opening in sync. The men inside unfurled from the car one by one like movie stars. Thor straightened first from the passenger door, flicking his blonde hair back over bare, bronzed skin. He swung a gym bag with a towel hanging out over one engorged shoulder, throwing Nat a subtle wink as he turned and slammed the door shut. You could have sworn he was sticking his ass out. Wilson tipped you and the girls a nod, sliding a pair of sunglasses on as he turned appraisingly towards the beach. “Got out usual spot cordoned off?” he said solemnly. Steve nodded, as Wanda piped up. “I’ve still to enchant the barriers. but they’re aware.” Sam nodded, as your eyes wandered to Loki at the other side of the Jaguar. He ascended from the driver’s seat like an aftershave advert, running a hand through loose, glossy hair. The trademark black suit he had chosen was incredibly out of place. But what else would Loki Laufeyson wear at the the beach? you thought abrasively, realising too late that you were staring. Even in profile, he was devastatingly handsome. His arrogance set in a glacial expression as he observed the beckoning flats and dunes with distaste. The god screwed up his eyes towards the sun, brow furrowed before a theatrical snap of his fingers made the driver door swung shut unaided with a muffled slap. “How do we look, Thor?” Wanda cooed, standing and placing her hands on her hips. Red hair fell around her shoulders, trailing down to the curve of her bikini-clad cleavage. “Both you and Romanoff look incandescently buxom this fine day. A delight for the eyes and the imagination.” he growled, leaning a ham-sized forearm on the roof of the Jag. Wilson smacked him in the stomach.

“What about her?” Nat scoffed, waggling a thumb in your direction. Thor flushed, readjusting the bag resting on his shoulder as his eyes searched frantically for something to focus on. “Come, Wilson, Banner...and Lang, do not forget the ardent spirits!" he shouted as he jostled away, shaking his rounded ass with every step. “We must secure a prime location.” he boomed, gesturing dramatically ahead to the empty stretch of beach far too loudly to be anything less than suspicious. You rolled your eyes as the men shuffled away, bickering. “What was that about?” Nat murmured at your back as the three of you filed out of the chevy. “It’s a long story, but suffice to say its some Asgardian bullshit.” you scoffed. “So you and Loki are still...-” she started, before you cut her off. “Mortal enemies? Yah.” you snapped bluntly. Nat chuckled. “Maybe you guys are too similar.” she said, sliding on her sunglasses as Wanda raced ahead, palms glowing red. “He’s a lying, arrogant arsehole and I am nothing like him.” you mumbled, rummaging in your bag as sand sank into your flip-flops. “He’s always been those things, what changed?” Nat probed. You could tell she had her interrogation-mode on, and this was a fight you would lose. With her, you always did. You sighed. “He can-” “Agent, can I have a word?” Steve called politely behind you. Nat gave you a nod, walking on as you hovered for the captain to catch up. He jogged across the sand in a pair of salmon coloured chino shorts, every inch the frat boy who never was. Placing his hands on his hips, he came to a stop. “It’s not gone unnoticed that things have cooled between you and Laufeyson again.” He arched a brow, blue eyes full of condescending concern. “Spats like this can really upset the ol’ team spirit, you know?” You pressed your lips together, inhaling through your nose. Steve continued, unawares. “I know he’s not the easiest but...just make an effort to be pals again. He might surprise you.” “Duly noted.” you said, forcing a smile. You spun away, throwing your eyes to the sky in a silent scream. The rest of the crew had set up camp near the middle of the stretch of beach reserved for the team thanks to Tony’s coastguard connections. You walked on for another minute, flapping your towel out and throwing your bag down. A sigh rose in the thick, hot air as you felt the warmth shifting beneath your ass. Reaching for your book, a long shadow fell over the golden sand spread before you. “Agent.” You closed your eyes, willing death to take you swiftly. “Go away.” you said through gritted teeth, shoving your sunglasses on and opening your book without looking up. The yellow, tea stained pages lay flat against your crossed legs, hunched over to prevent curiosity ruining the drama of your resistance. All you could see out the corner of your eye were a pair of ridiculously toned, naked calves. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Impossible, I’m afraid. I have a direct order from the boss to ‘make nice’ with you.” he quipped. You flinched as a dark green beach towel manifested, stretched neatly on the sand next to yours. “I informed him that I am always nice but apparently there are limits to the naivety of Captain Rogers. Who knew.”

You tried to focus on the words in front of you, typeface blurring as Loki’s pale body barged into your peripherary. Please don’t be wearing the skimpy, tight trunks, you thought; cursing the growing heat between your legs. It’s just the sand. It’s just the warm sand.

So, how have you been, darling?” he drawled innocently, an undertone of sarcasm tainting practised sincerity. “Fuck you, Loki.” you snarled, reading the same line of text for the sixth time. “Why don’t you just dig around in my head and find out?” Loki laughed softly. “You’re missing me, that much is obvious.” he purred. “The sexual frustration is tangible, Agent.” You inhaled sharply, head snapping to the side. All the insults and barbs on the tip of your tongue melted at the sight of him. Of course he’s wearing the fucking tight trunks, Jesus Christ, you thought; fighting to maintain stoicism. And what is that, a fucking negligee? The god’s impossibly long legs were stretched out over the edge of the towel, ankles crossed and resting on the sand. The fine hairs on his calves caught the sunlight, running up to his achingly thick thigh muscles which flexed as he adjusted his hips. Some kind of slutty caftan was wrapped around him, hanging open whoreishly around his thick, muscled torso. Luxurious sides of the garment hung to the flawless build of his body, the edges spreading out at those toned hips. The hue of his skin was visible through the cover-up, expensive silk-chiffon shimmering lightly in the afternoon rays. Gold embroidery laced the edging, the hem shifting seductively up his wide femurs as he settled back without a care in the world. The fateful pair of swim shorts clung to his upper-thighs, material cutting every-so-slightly into taut muscle. Low rise nylon skimmed the base of his Adonis belt, deep grooves of definition rolling upward to the abdomen you still felt pressing the breath from your body atop you in your dreams. Loki snickered, reclining back on his elbows. Clearly, he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “For someone who is so appalled by the very idea of my revelation, you certainly are resistant to discovering the solution. And there is a solution, Agent.” “Does it involved you monologuing?” you hissed under your breath as Steve sauntered past towards the larger group, subtley side-eyeing you both. You flashed a strained smile in his direction, continuing through gritted teeth. “Because I don’t think I have sufficient will to live to spare.” Loki lay back against the towel, a pair of classic Ray Bans manifesting over his eyes. He raised his arms, slotting them casually behind his head as he tilted his chin towards to the sun. “In my experience, a monologue vastly improves the quality of any conversation, Agent.” You frowned. “But no one else can get a word in.” you snapped blankly. “Precisely.” he smirked. There was a pause. “That caftan looks stupid.” you sniffed, petulantly. Loki said nothing, the ghost of a smile flickering at his dimples. Your reluctant stare ran over the bulge of his biceps, carved and ferocious beneath the feminine allure of the chiffon. A flank of loose black hair haloed his head, spilling over those broad shoulders and spreading in loose waves against his collarbone. The muscles there flexed as he adjusted himself, arching his back before settling into position. The edges of the sensual robe fell to the sides of his thick trunk, the sight of his defined obliques hitting you like a truck.

You looked back to your book quickly as he raised his head, interest piqued by a high pitched noise over by Wanda’s forcefield.

“Oh look, Agent. Your fans are here.” he drawled, gesturing lazily to the side. Your eyes flew up, immediately seeing twenty hysterical looking women shamelessly trying to bypass the security barricade down the beach. Three of them had their tits out, t-shirts held high in your direction. “I think they’re for you, actually.” you replied coldly, returning to your novel. He lowered his sunglasses, giving a polite wave. “Oh, so they are. My mistake.” he quipped, lying back down with a telltale smirk curling his lip. A minute passed in awkward silence. “Are you really just going to lie there?” you said, irritation seeping through the words as you re-read the same line over and over. “Are you really going to pretend to read that book and summon most tedious images you can muster to avoid my mildly telepathic endeavours?” he countered. You slammed the book closed, twisting towards him as he continued. “Darling, I’m delighted to inform you that you aren’t interesting enough to ignite the phenomenon most of the time.” Your jaw clenched, a growl building as you glared at him through your sunglasses with a futile waste of a death-stare. “Are you alright Agent? You seem perturbed.” he said with mock-innocence, offering a concerned tilt of his head.

“I’m fine.” you replied, a little higher pitched than you’d intended. “It’s your brother whose lost it.” Loki clucked, letting his head fall back with an amused sigh. Tendrils of hair nestled between his shoulder-blades, the fairness of his luminescent skin making your eyes water with reluctant desire. “It makes no difference if you are mine physically. Between he and I, you belong to me.” “Uh huh.” you grunted, feeling your heart beat faster. Disinterest. Hold it together, idiot. You cleared your throat. “What if I told you I was madly in love with your brother and would positively die without him?” The two of you looked up, just at the moment a large inflatable ball smacked Thor in the mouth with a loud slap. He stood dazed for a moment, before his fists clenched. “Damn this spherical assassin.” he roared. "Get thee from my sight!" He attempted to kick it away, and missed. Loki fought to retain his composure. “Well firstly, I would have you medically assessed.” he smirked, before melting to a frown. His voice deepened, regal gravitas seeping through. “In truth he would be forced to decline or face the eternal judgement of the Asgardian Elderbook. I can assure you that it is not an experience he wishes to repeat.” You let out a puff of air, scoffing heartily. “So he’s broken your Most Assyoor-red Oath before.” you mocked. “Nothing stopping him doing it again, clearly its a slap on the wrist.”

Loki chuckled, rolling his neck in a semi circle and letting out a low, sensual groan as something clicked. “My brother lives in abject terror that any attention towards you may be construed as an attempt to undermine the Oath’s hold.” he murmured casually, pausing for effect. “In truth, he had his manly appendage removed from his form for a millennia the last time he forswore the Oath of Most Ass-ure-red Recompense.” the god hummed, pointing his toes and digging them into the sand. “I was there for the enchantment. It was quite something. Even for a god, a millennia is not an insubstantial amount of-” “Wait, he didn’t have a cock for like a thousand years?” you gasped, scouring around to make sure no one was in earshot. Loki shrugged. “Indeed. As smooth as Carrara marble. I may have pulled a few strings as I am known to do, Agent. In the end he only served six hundred.” “Explains why he’s such a relentless pervert.” you mumbled, catching sight of Thor jogging along the shoreline with Wanda hoisted over his shoulders. “Quite.” Loki said solemnly. “But the boon was that I gained his Oath by coming to his aid...eventually-” “-which you wasted on me.” you finished bitterly, concentrating on Wanda screeching with hysterical laughter as Thor threw her in the air like a doll. A wave of envy surged in your belly. If only Loki wasn’t such a wanker, you thought. Your unwelcome companion sat up on the beach-towel, the crunch of his sickeningly defined abs visible in your periphery. He leant his face over your shoulder, the heat from his skin so close to yours feeling warmer than the pulsing sun. “You say wasted, I say...invested, Agent.” You swallowed, trying to think of anything in this moment other than Loki flipping you over on the sand and grinding his solid torso against your keening body. Shit, you thought; as the mental image of his sandy hair flipping over those achingly hot shoulders filled your mind. Your thighs squeezing around his hips as he dragged himself against your own. His fingers curling around the edge of the towel as he fell apart inside your hot cun- “The ‘Offs are staring.” Loki sneered, nodding towards a conspiratorial looking Nat and Wanda hunched together casting unsubtle glances in your direction. Lang broke out the tequila already, you thought with a grimace. A coy smile pressed against Loki’s dimples as he watched your cheeks flush. “They’re just impressed I’ve not choked you yet.” you said, aimlessly turning the page of your book while you feigned disinterest. “Ah.” Loki breathed, resting back on his elbows again. “And yet you know very well that I am partial to a little erotic asphyxiation, Agent. I’d be happy to be on the receiving end for once.” You let out a ragged sigh, clenching wetly beneath your bikini bottoms. Wayward grains of sand stuck to your inner thighs, a mix of anxious sweat and arousal combining under the lightest of flirtatious interrogation. You snapped the book closed, placing it pointedly over your crotch. Like I'm hiding a fucking boner. “I’m surprised you told them of our dalliances, actually.” Loki continued, un-phased. “Considering how absolutely loathsome you find it all.” he purred, drawing his muscled knees upwards, feet flat against the towel. The perfect position to straddle him, you thought; gaze lingering on the mouth-watering bulge protruding from the tight trunks. “It was a slow news day.” you muttered, shaded eyes running over the landscape of his hips, up the valley of rippling abs.

How you wanted to feel him harden through the twin, thin nylon strips of your swimsuits. Feel his meaty erection inflating against your messy, hot slit begging to be filled. How you would rub against it; the flushed, swollen nerves that missed his every moan, his every lick, every thrum of his talented fingers.

Loki’s sharp jawline was pointed to the sky, the sweep of his cheekbones accentuated by dark wayfarers that concealed any indication of interest. Silence, at last. There was a pause. “I wouldn’t recommend fucking on sand, darling.” Loki murmured casually, without moving his head. “Even magic cannot remove every grain from one’s nethers.” Without thinking, you smacked his thigh with your book, making him flinch. “Ow.” he growled, immediately springing to his knees, looming above you. Curls fell back in a black curtain behind his ears as he slid the Ray Bans into his hair. Those smouldering eyes bore into yours, flashing menacingly beneath a fluttering fan of dark lashes. “Be careful, Agent." he purred darkly. "That was dangerously close to flirting.” You shivered. “You wouldn’t want to give me the wrong idea, would you?” he growled, cupping the side of your neck with one sand dusted hand. His thumb rubbed the angle of your jaw once. Twice. “Stop...reading...my..mind, asshole.” you enunciated slowly through gritted teeth. The line of your vision which had begun at his chest, rose inch by inch to meet his. “Would that I could, Agent.” he murmured, as you heard the sound of muffled footsteps approaching at a run. “But you see...that depends on you. And you won’t hear it.” Loki’s brows slanted thoughtfully, as time ran out. “What happened? You guys...cool?” Wilson shouted warily, every thunder of his long legs on the sand beside Nat making your stomach twist as you jumped to your feet. “Fine.” you said bluntly, seeing Rogers flushed face jogging close behind them as you began dusting sand from your legs. “Who fancies a swim?” you said flatly, looking between Wilson and Natasha. “What an inspired idea.” Loki said, gracefully rising to his feet. With a tilt of his head, the sand which had worked its way beneath his fine body hair; the golden grains which had nestled into his curls, all fell in magnetic synchronicity with a gentle hiss to the towel. You rolled your eyes. “Come on.” you grumbled, yanking Nat behind you towards the ocean. Trying to keep your attention on the shoreline despite the hum of conversation behind, Natasha was wise enough not to ask questions. The larger group drew closer, the bottle of liquor in Scott’s hand glinting as he teetered on his feet. You stopped beside him, refusing his offer of the hooch. Steve and Sam stripped their t-shirts, throwing them on a growing pile of discarded clothing. “Is Laufeyson wearing lingerie?” Scott hissed loudly to Wilson. Sam scrunched his face, a theatrical grimace stretched across his features as he turned with an incredulous shake of his head. “It’s called style, Lang. I wouldn’t expect one so chronically under-endowed as you to appreciate that.” Loki drawled, making a show of drawing back the chiffon and placing his hands on his cut hips. “It is kind of excessive.” Banner chimed with a hint of jealousy. You watched every stare lower to the bulge in his tight swimwear on full display. Scott’s glazed eyes widened as he swayed gently, carefully lifting a finger to point directly at it.

“Now that, is excessive. Am I right, fellas?” he slurred, jovially elbowing an increasingly beleaguered looking Wilson in the chest.

Your eyes combed up Loki’s long legs, each hot slice of muscle flashing into view as he shifted his stance. His fingertips dug into the long lines of his hips, haughtily observing his would-be critics. Always needing a reaction, you sneered; coveting every inch of tantalisingly forbidden skin. You licked your lips, biting the bottom one as Loki’s abdominals clenched. The caftan fluttered in the breeze, grazing the backs of his knees as he stood silently, absorbing their reluctant admiration. How his thighs were so unnaturally carved you would never understand. Your own squeezed together, remembering the force of which the flat of his femur would slam against the back of your leg as he mounted you like a demon. The sound of skin slapping, rasping groans becoming louder as he found his release in you. As he found himself. Thor’s voice broke your daze, blinking as you realised that you too, had succumbed to the inconveniently hypnotic draw of Loki’s crotch. “Can we disperse with the talk of my brother’s various accoutrements and protrusions?” Thor muttered, pulling at his own shorts. “I have it on good authority that beneath those bathing pants he possesses nothing special.” Loki whipped round, the caftan swirling dramatically. “Careful brother. For one in such a tenuous position, I would not recommend you become judgemental on the manhoods of others.” he sneered, teeth bared. “Need I elaborate?” Thor swallowed, his cheeks paling as you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “Alrighty.” Steve clapped his hands awkwardly, before ushering the stunned looking group closer to the sea. “Everybody in the water. Time to get wet, come now...let’s go. Time to cool off.” The splashes of half a dozen muscle-laden bodies sounded around you as you waded forward alone, welcoming the crisp coolness of the sea rising against your thighs. Thor ran past, knees high before diving head first into the surf. The resulting wave hit you in the chest, making you gasp. Flecks of salty water stuck to your lips, licked away thoughtlessly as the sea level grew deeper. You squatted, letting yourself begin to float, breathing deeply. “I hate to mention it…” You grimaced towards the horizon as Steve’s saccharine tone floated over your shoulder. “...but about that little snaffoo row-de-tow...I hope that I can still count on you to give it the ol’ college try with you-know-who.” “It’s complicated Steve.” you said through gritted teeth, kicking your feet forward and floating on your back. He looked down at you sceptically, his blonde hair blindingly bright in the direct sunlight. Like an angel, you thought. An innocent, irritating angel. “I’m no ninny." Steve scoffed with uncharacteristic bite. "I have my suspicions you and Laufeyson share more than just the occasional ride, if you know what I mean.” he hissed, scanning for eavesdroppers. His cheeks flushed. "The motorcycles, I meant the...listen- pull it together. There are lives at stake.” You snorted defiantly. “The only life at stake is Laufeyson’s if he doesn’t-” “-If he doesn’t what, Agent?”

You floundered, face submerged in water before you spluttered to the surface. The seabed grazed your toes as you found yourself upright again, wiping salt water from your eyes with the back of your hand. Steve looked between you with one brow arched, his steely glare leaving you under no doubt to his feelings on the matter. Loki descended deeper into the gently lapping waves, water parting around his muscled knees as he sashayed elegantly into the chill without a flinch. The caftan billowed around his hips, ballooning backwards in the breeze with a regal sway. He shrugged the fabric from his shoulders, a static of erotically charged electricity making it cling to his skin as you watched it inch slowly down. When the teasing fold of material fell past his biceps, he whipped it off in one well-placed swoop of his hand before the lower hem had a chance to touch water. “Take it offfff...wooo-ooo!” Scott yelled animatedly, before Wanda splashed him in the face. “S-spring b-break!” he choked between splutters, fists raised to the sky. You couldn’t take your eyes off Loki, your chin dipping to your chest as he drew closer. He threw the chiffon cover-up high into the air with a flourish, where it spread like a wild, black bird; fluttering in a spasm before vanishing into nothing. Scott ooo’ed. At least it didn’t burst into flames this time, you thought sourly, remembering your red dress he reduced to tatters with his teeth and hands. He must save that for other peoples clothes. Splashes of seawater dripped from Loki’s lower stomach over his hips, the veins of his forearms standing erect as he rolled his shoulders with a casual sigh. Trying to keep your face neutral was a mammoth task, as your eyes crawled down his solid chest to his swaggering hips in those tight little trunks. You needed fucked. Badly. But not by- You sucked in your cheeks, biting hard to stop the thought in its tracks as he drew closer. Water stilled around Loki's naval as he came to a stop, forming a triangle with you and a grim-faced Rogers. “I’m sure what my colleague was trying to ineloquently convey, was that we were simply jesting.” Loki hummed politely, dipping his hands in the water and running them past his temples. Dry tendrils hung temptingly over the ropes of muscle by his collarbone, the rogue smattering of moisture on his cheekbones making him glisten in the sun. The god cocked an eyebrow, tilting his chin down and casting a teasing glance up at a pink-faced Steve. “You needn’t be so serious all the time, Rogers.” Loki smirked at the boss while you clenched desperately beneath the merciful cover of nature. “Do you concur, Agent?” he purred, winking imperceptibly as Steve cleared his throat. You had to admit, under the circumstances, it was the lesser of two evils. “Right. Yeah, sorry Steve” you sighed reluctantly. “I was just being…-” “-Facetious.” Loki finished. “She enjoys goading me, Rogers. It really is rather annoying. But she makes up for it in other ways, don’t you Agent?” he said innocently. There was an expectant pause. Steve's eyes narrowed, as you suddenly wished a freak riptide would carry you far away from these idiots. Loki cleared his throat, stifling a laugh. “Being a good student during my lessons, talking me up to shareholders...the beautiful Amanda, for instance and so on.” He waved a hand limply as he talked, the casual condescension making your stomach clench.

Fuck, he’s so fucking hot when he’s a dickhead; you chided. Why? Why, God, why am I like this?

Steve’s eyes pin-balled between the two of you. He folded his arms, the heated flush of his reddening skin looking comical beside Loki’s uniform creamy perfection. “I don’t want a sniff of trouble out of you for the rest of the day.” he said haughtily, narrowing his gaze towards Loki. “And I have a job for the two of you, since you’re pals again.” Lines appeared in Loki’s forehead as he sank chest deep into the water, dipping his head back. He emerged seconds later like a fucking tease; his hair sodden in a raven slick. Swathes of water dripped over his shoulders, rolling down the crevices between landscaped abs. His biceps bulged as he raised his arms, raking the wet mass of hair back from his angular face. “A job, on our day off. How thoughtful.” he sneered. Steve rolled his eyes, tutting. “We need more water from the snack-hut. It’s closed today but Tony had a copy of the keys. It’s about half a mile up the beach.” he said cheerfully. Sensing your reluctance, Rogers eyes grew bright with wholesome excitement. “And hey, y'all could even grab an ice cream for the walk back.” “Do you hear that, Agent?” Loki drawled sarcastically, mimicking Steve’s enthusiasm. “Ice-cream.” Steve flicked his hand, a set of keys landing in your palm which shot up from the water. He turned silently, beginning to wade over to the main group currently occupied with stopping Lang snorkelling with a straw up one nostril. You watched him depart with a fluttering in your stomach, feeling gentle ripples splash further up your waist as Loki approached like a panther stalking wounded prey. Like you knew he would. His hands slid around your hips beneath the water, pulling you gently back with an inaudible thump against his crotch. You could feel the heat of his breath against your wet hair, fat droplets of salt water dripping from his forehead to your cheek as he hovered. “Tell me to stop, Agent...” he murmured warily, fingertips tightening around your hipbones. There was something new in his voice. Thick, and hypnotic. Sweet, almost. Sincerity? You shook the thought away. Your eyes fluttered closed, marinating in the feeling of his solid chest pressed against your back. The moist sheen of your bodies sticking together reminded you of ill-advised, sweaty, animalistic, magnificent sex. And him. God, how you craved him. If he wasn't such a- Loki’s fingertips toyed with the waistband of your bottoms, grazing inside just enough to scratch the edges of your pubic hair. He moaned softly as your ass circled against his hips, firm biceps tensing around your shoulders like a venus flytrap as his deep baritone trembled. You could feel the delicate skin of his lips millimetres from your cheek, testing the precipice of your resistance. “Let’s get this over with.” you sighed defiantly, brushing his hands away. You raised a finger, jingling the keys to make your point. “Everyone’s thirsty.” A smile tugged at Loki's lips as he watched you rise from the water towards the shore, the curve of your ass making his neglected cock twitch within the tight swim shorts. “Some more than others, I suspect.” he said quietly, tilting his head.

To be continued in Hot & Bothered: Snack Shack Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

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[foxilayde]

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

[thekydsarealright]

𝐉𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄: Sex, Lies, on Videotape.

Babe, please don’t let this make you think my love has swayed… no way. Okay?

I really like you, baby. I want her.

“Girl on her left? Turn towards her?” He’s adjusting the settings of a camera, playing with it, directing. A yellow mini pop-up onscreen, much like an advert, glows to his attention, stealing it away. (!) THIS SETTING CONTROLS THE CAMERA’S SENSOR OR FILM’S SENSITIVITY TO LIGHT.

The static in a camera calibrating just to roll. Shit wasn't a pink disposable, this wasn’t point and shoot. Not in the way you would be led to be believe.

Don’t be ashamed.

After all… he is a producer.

“Now… kiss her? Be gentle with her. Don’t grab her face. Hold her gaze… like y’all Thelma and Louise. Look her in the eye like you love her.” This is not her idea. “You comfortable?” His way of speaking is so far from condescension, so far removed from superiority. Act like you hired me… even though I hired you. Hire a nigga. Credit secure for it. There’s a collective nod of agreement from the crowd of women, some blushing while sitting forward with their hands sandwiched between their thighs, smirking, waiting… to see what comes next, others giggling out of the shot and laying on the floor, partaking in voyeurism, drugs, playing on socials, texting out alerting messages only to lock their phone again, ignore their man, and be left in this room with their DND on, others appearing to be preoccupied with their latest expensive manicure… a blunt smoking on their face, and for the ones that didn’t smoke; for not a drag was pinched between they fingers, their poker face smoked for them. They body smoked for them. Why? They just cared. They cared about how they presented themselves. It’s a lot of talk in the room. Gossip. Girl talk. “Girls, I said you comfortable?” He’s so patient. Big brown eyes. "We comfortable!" Tell me when you wanna stop, when you ready to go and where. His question was mostly directed to the girl in the middle. The honey blonde. Do you still get butterflies over that guy you was seeing? You’re so cute. Your stomach feel weird? Here. I can be the flame to those moths making you sick. Burn you up. Burn your butterflies away for something more real. Something worthwhile. Something you can find out about. Call me, I will come; cover you and be your heating blanket. Her eyes distinguished him, and a relaxed smile as her eyes rolled to the back of her head — girl on her right was hiding in her neck, biting her own finger in order to sass the camera. Giving playful and feisty. Likable. Personable. Five stars, you got the job. I’m so proud of you, baby. I could be laid against it. “Mm, that feels sooo nice…” That was honey blonde purring to the attractive girls licking all her all over and her necklace. Honey and brunette. Was this illegal? Only if you caught what was being done on the low-set glass table that everyone collectively had to get down on their knees, crawl to reach, and use someone’s World Elite MasterCard they swiped from they daddy who was into stocks and bonds… to cut lines to blow. Someone was going to have a stuffy nose. A slumber party in Atlanta. Somebody took off his tie and burnt a hole through the rings on it. He really liked that tie. He liked this more, so the tie can be forgiven.

Listen, we’ll… call her gold, and you’ll be platinum. I just wanna see you come… out. You want a pet for your birthday? Rescue a kitten.

The sound of a peck. Petting my fro when you done is also an option. “Nibble her bottom lip with both of yours? Gentle, baby. You know you sexy. Show your teeth. Not that much. Are you in love? Is you in lust? Just enough… like you about to be done playing with bubble gum.” He zooms in, only to be met with a loud laugh over his ideas. “But you not, because you think you can still taste something…” Spit it out. Spit it out, spit it out. Spit me out. Oh my God, you just swallowed it. You just swallowed me. Can you digest this? You can’t? Unfortunate. How does it taste? “Pull out. Perfect.” Fly, sexy, cool. He gets on one knee. They knee-to-knee like they’ve been best friends for ten years, cuddling on the loveseat. “Pop your bra for me, and kiss on her titty. Girl on the left… fluff her hair and yours out, and use your thumb to wipe her nose. Baby got something in her nose.”

“Just like that.”

More giggling, more smacking, more crawling, head to calves, temple to temple.

Them all on the couch, they made him laugh, too. Baby being so distracting. Sly grins that last and only change to pace his heartrate.

“Beautiful, baby.” Flash. "I breathe you."

Get y’all at your best angles, I swear. No one will ever see this footage if they wanna live. But especially because of you. I promise to get you at your best angle. I wanna show you how I love you by the way I capture you. You know how they say, the way you love a person, shows in how you photograph them? I think that's true.

He’s particular and planning punches and pulls.

Slow and steady, baby. This can be a slow burn.

“Now… baby on the right. Turn to your left. Kiss her for me?” Now, this girl was a little daring. Stirred a mixture of insecurity and igniting horniness even in Takahashi. Thank God for sexual discipline and the ability to be, until spoken to, silent. He could kill somebody. “That’s enough.” She’s fixing her brownish burgundy lipstick. You in the middle. Let me put this down, come over there and fix your smudge for you. Can’t have you on camera looking any kind of way. You’re much too cute for that. You’re gorgeous. I want you to tell yourself that when you looking at yourself in my lenses. On my cue. You in control. This suite overflowed with Perignon champagne, affection and bubbles. Everyone felt safe. He made sure of that. Love, love, love. Fuck everything: just love. Baby, don’t worry about your makeup. I promise I won’t get jealous and break up. Flash me like TMZ. This isn’t your next scandal… this isn’t blackmail. This is just fun. You agreed to this. Right? Take a break and come back to this. Smoke this. Breathe it in like aromatherapy. Put this in your nose. Sip some of this. Smoke this. Because you look thirsty. Turn the fan on. It’s ours and just for fun. Just for fun, baby. You think you nastier than any of these? God, please.

I hope you is.

Please give me some.

Pout for me.

“We’re all out of ice cream!”, someone walks in to purr and whine, their dress dismantled. It was the croupier. High out of her mind. “Where’s my bag…?”, she crosses over into the next room only to disappear into a sea of smoke. They smoking up in here. What is that? A wedding cake? Girl scout cookies? Oh, it’s ice cream cake. That’s what she means. That’s her strain. Is someone having sex in the other room? Oh my God. Axel, is that you? Only other guy in the suite was Axel. What the fuck we doing here?

He been the farthest thing removed from poly-amorous. He is full-blooded, full-celled monogamy. He ain’t open for business that he already stands on. He can commit when he get what he want. He bare and fight for loyalty. He just loves… a lot. He a lover. Gemini symbolized The Lovers. So was she, or so she claimed. Given she a Mars baby. Break it down for me quickly. Matter of fact, break me.

I’m a lover.

This is not her idea… it’s mine single-handedly. It’s just my phantasy.

🔗: My Nutty Nutmeg Phantasy, by macy gray: the īd. ★🌀

And this way… you can have your privacy… and at the same time I can see. Lord, I hope I make it, because you sugar is the sexiest… thing. Shit, fuck, goddamn. Place yo sins up for my conscience can knock down. Or is you a nun? Put your sins on me. Weren’t you in my Bible, mama? Aren’t you a sin I can make? Could I sin on you? Lying to somebody is a sin. Lying on somebody is a sin. But can I just… sin on you, you feel me? In you. Let’s recreate the Bible. Let’s go get saved.

I just wanna tape you. “Slip her hair to the back of her shoulders for me while I switch cameras? Shit getting in the way of you being able to see her chest.”

Lights, camera, action.

“Now the rest of y’all, can get the fuck out. I want everyone out of this muthafuckin’ room. I want you.”

Hey little mama, I just wanna tape you.

“Hey!” The deluxe party suite crumbles with scowling, sweating. Mini crystal chandeliers. Low lights. Tall windows. Cool summer night breeze… flirting with the senses, good riddance to the unnecessary irritation. Make it seamless. Silky floors that tickle and kiss your feet just shampooed, no carpet. Cashmere. Marble walls. Water sofa. Loveseat. Jumbotron running videos. Alright, Janet. Alright, Victoria. Cards on the table. This room was a dream. The crystals matched the ones on the dancers, dressing to flourish looking like they just came from carnival. Let that shit hang, you hang it well. Dirty money of 10s, 20s, 50s, and 100s, and maybe nine-hundred thousand in dead presidents, winnings, and chips combined that made a mess pile somewhere on the floor, thrown out of the treasure chest. He could step on that shit like legos.

Not to patronize and sound fake but if this is a dream I ain’t wakin’ up.

Raggedy ass hotel.

“What?!”

He tosses the camera, still rolling, behind him on the water bed. He’s sent a notification out on his pager. Bouncers show up. The same ones he paid off at the club front. You can alchemize anybody by getting into their pockets. 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐘.

“Fuck out of this room.”

RIGHT the fuck now.

“Motherfucker, fuck you! You crazy! I’m taking my money!” She’s mad, bending over. “Purse?! Who has my venci?!” Not the one in the middle, the same one who is always on the right. She the same one who kissed her boobs, and got her boobs kissed. Baby, clean your nose before you try and clean mine.

Girls sped past him, some hitting the wall, some not even looking back, some outraged, some winking, some still biting their finger and itching their nose, stumbling, mumbling, grabbing their money, attempting to steal some, before being met with security… still perfectly able to walk. Maybe not home. To each be attached to their own room number or lined out in the hallway, yes. Lined like the cocaine and Xtasy on the glass coffee table. Someone bought sugary powdered donuts. Milk and cream, next?

Clothes were being thrown from being strewn everywhere on furniture. The room turned into a hilarity of mania and instant chaos that the party was ending. Memories would be blurred. Some being manhandled and forced out of the suite. Ill-disciplined, poorly behaved, and ungovernable. Remove them before this shit get unmanageable. Before shit gets ghetto. Frisk they ass before they get frisky with me. Get her messy ass out of here. I get petty. “Not you.” Takahashi croons, his intention clear in his baritone. Gently, he reached out to catch the girl by her forearm but as a natural and fair reflex, she ricochets her hand flat on his bicep to keep a certain distance between them. The honey blonde. A mysterious, red-flame haired woman with a deep cocoa complexion and diamond-like cut stiletto nails, jeweled, ice crystal thin hoop earrings touching her shoulders… this nameless girl appearing from behind and beyond his shoulder, invisible to the one he has already lost himself inside of: the one with honey blonde hair and the baby pink lip gloss. She had on a gothic choker, jewelry of a palette that reminded him of seashells found on the beach somewhere. Aura’s grandmother must’ve given her those. White pearls, white drops of jewelry pounded against her collarbone. The red cyclone reached around to loosely embrace her arms around Takahashi; enhancing her height by standing with her tippy toes. Loving; lovingly. Affectionate; affectionately. Sensual; sensually. Venus. Venus is an internal asset, like a contract. Ever few know of her, should any get close to her at all. Zero have ever gotten close to her. Rarely before has ever anyone. By the ones that may, she slips stealthily through their fingers like sand in an hourglass do. And typically, true fools that get through to experience are the ones misunderstanding. True fools are the ones that do not fail, but instead, choose to lose. Venus is the manifestation of his heart. She was extramundane, singing from planet to planet, surfing solar system and jumping ship: from the velocity of a falling star to the velocity of a shooting star. Elevators. And just as quick as she’d appear to him after indulging, she would be just as quick to vanish and disappear. Just disappear. But right now… forever, here, she was here. This moment. They were closer than ever. Quiet. The hotel room is dim. Murmurs are as soft as distant hushes, as if the girls outside wanted in on the sudden falling silence from inside the suite they had previously displayed rambunctious behavior in. Birds of a feather sticking together to take flight, caught on videotape.

Videotape. You on camera, baby. Beautiful, baby. Video the mysterious flame holding him back from behind like an illusion and the honey in front of him he held like a burning fire. The camera was still rolling from on top of the water bed. We is paralleling. I still have my hands gently on you. My fingers are on your arm. You can pull away, but we is skin tight. The embrace currently happening anyhow, was one of Venus’s various physical methods of trying to relax Takahashi. With access to every ingredient that made him who he was. Him. But what she didn’t have access or control over - was him. He was him. He possessed the backbone. Indeed, he was a soulful cosmic. Relax his mind. A cosmic break between time and space. She was merely the breath he took in order to let a moment be a moment in order to pass through it. She challenged him. He challenged himself. He trusted her as his second hand. So she trusted him, his instincts. So he, in turn, could relax Aura. Aura. She liked her. He liked her. “Can we keep her?”, Venus asks. “She’s beautiful.” She whispered the last bit softly to Takahashi… shyly watching Aura’s every move. No envy. Only smitten. Graced by nuance. A new friend? A friend? An old friend? Picture it as if she was a little girl who stalked from behind a tree, keen eyes only. So ready, willing and eager to ignite a flame once she spotted the perfect forest to race through yet with the intent to not catch anything on fire. How counter productive, Venus. Is that stupid allegory what being in love feels like? For some. You tell me. Paint the picture. You make your choice.

Time repeats. Time ripples. Time shivers. Aura gets goosebumps. Her soul quivers and shakes like the slow falling of a leaf, maybe it’s the drugs. The season changes. Time duplicates. History repeats. In another world, they are all still here, in this hotel suite… Venus’s way of trying to relax him. So he, in turn, could relax Aura. Aura. She liked her. “Can we keep her? She’s beautiful.” Venus whispers to Takahashi.

Venus was his integrated anima. You could say she was his conscience. Oddly enough, she resembled Rave, one of his musical protégés. Join the rave. Don’t worry, you’re early. Venus, she sits her chin upon the ball of his shoulder as she sinks in, like a bed; the details of Aura’s medium taupe cocktail dress. Feathered. Takahashi took in… her makeup. Shit look like Donna Summer. Tina. It really is ladies night. A lady’s night. Muhfuckin’… He took in her rings. Her fly. Her freak. He could tell her fly apart from her freak, her freak from her fly. Was his fly down? Fuck if he knew. He took in her hot flame red ball nail type. What she be getting? Almond? Was she a ballerina? Coffin? Bury her next to me. Squoval? Shit, he don’t know what that word even mean. What did she want? He’d pay. No lease.

Shit hugged her curves… oh so fine. She embodied the definition of rich with finesse. Baby be scheming, don’t she? That was his first thought, walking into that whole thing. She was the first one he was in. Got in, fit in. “Damn, who is that?” Who was she? All in, Jackpot Jubilee.

The cloudy judgment was beginning to fade. The high, however, wasn’t. He had a blunt between his lips like a cigarette.

“I want you to stay.” His eyes… they held a pleading look. As if he was giving her a choice. When really… that stare? That pleading stare? The subtlety? That was Stevie underneath all of this. This suite? René. All of it. Stephen was fighting for the reins, but he just wasn’t strong enough. He was the puppet of this operation. And maybe worse. 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐚, 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞. Stephen. Watching shit go down from the passenger seat and cannot do nann. Playing devil’s advocate, Stevie. No wonder. Why you acting like you not enjoying this shit, son. You addicted to interruption; tryna interrupt always. Always trying to rush n’ run shit, always trying to control and predict shit. You can’t warn her. And she can’t hear you. She won’t listen to you. Everything you start, say, end up coming out wrong. Not this time.

You’re more than a hotel sheet, wrapped up and beat and pooled around feet. Hon.u.are.so.lux-ur♪-uuhh-huhhhhz.

Her cupid cusp lips part, and she cuts her eyes up against him. Was it a cold look? Was it the same distinguished look she blessed him with from earlier? Has she changed her mind? Didn’t matter. Come here. I ain’t gonna do nothing to you. I wanna… interview you. I have an idea. You play celebrity. I play journalist. I harass you. You humor me. Let’s play tennis.

She blinked, appearing to be trying to elevate herself above the induced high she was neck at neck with. But her eyelids weren’t heavy yet. Her eyes had sprinkled stardust in them. Her hair ran over her body like a river you get baptized in, wild. Those eyes. Did she bewitch him? He must be witching himself. No… she’s real.

“Why?”

“If you down with me, I’d like to film more of you. I like your groove. You took they shit like a champ.” He smirked, towering before her as she slowly eyed him up, something languid, from his shoes. Red pants.

You don’t have to lie to me.

It’s fly to me.

You lie to me, you better make sure it’s the truth. Because I won’t lie to you.

“Mm…” she pondered, shrugging as she proceeded to pose alluringly, biting her lip with a soft smile. A smile that could make anyone melt. “a’ight.” Baby, your cadence. Did she just flip her hair at me? Girl gone. Come here, mama. Let me take you under my wing. I can flip you underneath. You like a stranger to me. Don't be a stranger, baby.

He backs her up to the door, only for it shut with the final attendee leaving. She, ever so hesitantly. He locks it with a chain, locks the both of them in so she can’t leave, so nobody else can come in, and he picks up the black heavy lens again as she giggles and spins around to face the wall in order to bend over and palm it down, whipping her hair and her video girl profile around like a wild leopard, seducing the camera. She poking. She swaying. She hopping. She bouncing. She grinning. She flirting. In true dancer fashion. He, quite, literally, gets on his knees to execute this camerawork and follow her motion. She has star power. She makes you sensitive to light. She’s so bright. He’s rolling playfully on the floor, and she avoids him from getting a peek, winding her belly and herself away. I’m working for it, then. “Work for the camera, baby.”

The camera smiles for you. Not the other way around, little mama. Something else smiles too. Bad. I have a bad headache. I feel so bad. I suffer from mania migraines. The blood is rushing up to my head. My face hurt from smiling. I like it when you make me smile. How can I do the same for you? Your sweet, sexy voice turns my ear all the way on. Do I do?

Tell me how and why I do what I wanna do so fuckin’ badly.

It’s just my fantasy…

Don’t be afraid. It’s all right.

The door is locked, the lights die out, the camera is still on; fully charged, music just got muted, and the hallways are full and tall. It’s just me and you, yo.

And maybe you.

Turn that fucking camera off, baby. IT’S JUST MY F★NTASY!

And cut.

[justinssportscorner]

Robert Dineen at The Telegraph:

Transgender female athletes are at a physical disadvantage compared to cisgender women in several key metrics, research funded by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) has found. The landmark study reported that physically active transgender women performed worse in certain cardiovascular tests and had less lower-body strength than their cisgender females. Researchers at the University of Brighton also found that, contrary to previous claims, transgender women’s bone density was equivalent to cisgender females. Bone density is linked to muscle strength. The research paper, which has been published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine, could have a significant effect on the debate around gender-inclusion in sport.

It is the first research relating to the issue that the IOC has funded and is the first scientific study of “athletes” who have undergone gender-affirming hormone therapy. The authors, who included a member of the IOC’s medical and scientific commission, said their results showed that sporting federations should caution against banning transgender women from the female category without further research into their individual sports. “While longitudinal transitioning studies of transgender athletes are urgently needed, these results should caution against precautionary bans and sport eligibility exclusions that are not based on sport-specific (or sport-relevant) research,” the paper said in its conclusions. They added that the research could be used to inform policy-making at a time when several sports have excluded transgender women from the female category – including athletics, swimming and cycling – but could not on its own provide the basis for decisions.

How the study worked

Designed to examine the effect of transitioning from male to female and vice versa among physically active subjects, the study collected data from 69 volunteers, who had responded to social-media adverts seeking participants in the research.

The cohort comprised 19 transgender women, 20 cisgender women, 19 cisgender men and 11 transgender men. To qualify for the study, they had to be taking part in competitive sport or physical training at least three times a week. The transgender volunteers needed to have undergone hormonal therapy for at least a year. None of the subjects were competing in national or international sport. They were assessed across three categories: cardio-respiratory fitness, strength and body composition. Researchers found that transgender women performed worse than cisgender women in the countermovement jump that tests lower-body strength. It involves jumping vertically with hands on the hips. Transgender women’s average jump was 36.4cm with a standard deviation (SD) of 7.9cm. Cisgender women’s average was 40.7cm with a SD of 5.8cm.

Cisgender women also performed worse in an important test of lung function called the FEV1/FVC ratio, which compares subjects’ Forced Expiratory Volume with their Forced Vital Capacity. The former is the maximum amount of air that is expelled during the first second following a deep inhalation. The latter represents the volume of air that can be exhaled following a deep inhalation and is a measurement of lung size. Transgender women had a lower FEV1, leading to a lower FEV1/FVC ratio of 0.83, with a SD of 0.07, compared to 0.88 and a SD of 0.04 for cisgender women. This, the study says, represents a significant difference and could adversely affect transgender women’s athletic performance. There was no meaningful difference between the two groups’ haemoglobin profiles and bone density – both of which are related to athletic performance – even though, the researchers noted, previous studies of sedentary subjects found that transgender women performed better in both.

The IOC released a study that trans women are at a physical disadvantage compared to cisgender women.

[blistering-typhoons]

ahaha, and now that i am semi-employed, i can bitch about it on tumblr! (i'll feel bad abt it tho)

basically, just some graphic design work, there's a forest market here every weekend and the owners have conscripted me to design their adverts every week-

now, i'm not eighteen anymore and i can take feedback like an adult now, which is a massive relief both personally and professionally, so my issue is not the critiques i'm getting, but the one very specific critique i just got which is that my employer (who is a woman!!!) doesn't want our town to believe that they're running a 'feminist collective' (actual term used) simply because i chose two photos of women to use on the advert.

wot.

literally, just two women who work at the goddamned market, will somehow bring down the entire concept of diversity in the market.

FEMINIST COLLECTIVE.

a potter and a woman who makes curries, this is the future liberals want.

[the-fae-in-your-walls]

Are you a "social media sites know me too well" kinda person, or a "social media sites can't even work out what I like" kinda person? Like for some reason every ad I get right now is somehow about pregnancy and uhh... I think they're missing a biggg clue that perhaps I, a woman who simps for other women, am not the target audience for those adverts 😂

Like I'm not saying they should be collecting more data on me than they already are, buuut...

[harrison-abbott]

Back when I was a student I needed a job to support me financially whilst I was studying, so I followed up on this post on gumtree that said ‘KITCHEN STAFF’.

I cycled across the city, which took about 40 minutes. It was in a bizarre area of the town, up these winding roadways. I.e., it wasn’t city-centre so was designed for suburban eaters/drinkers who would drive along to it. Anyway: I got to the joint early, for the interview. Because the employers had told us to come at 1 pm. The restaurant had this atrium area so I figured I would wait there.

And, as I waited, a trickle of other people began to appear around me. They were mostly young men, the same kind of age as me. I realised that they were here for the job interview as well.

It was odd sitting in the same room with a bunch of people who were keen on the same job as you were – since you were technically ‘rivals’, but they were just strangers.

The employers kept us waiting in the same atrium for over an hour, without exaggeration. What made it bizarre was that one of the employers turned up at 1 pm, and greeted us: so I thought that was when the interviews were supposed to start. But then he went away. When I next saw the man again, he was with a whole collection of other adults who looked like him. So they were a family company.

As I was invited out to one of the tables on the restaurant floor, they had just interviewed this other guy. And one of the women family members / employers called out to him, “Please send your details back to us as quick as you can,” or something like that.

So they had obviously just given this other person the job.

And then I had to sit down and do the interview. There were five of them – the employers – and one of me. So I had gone into the interview expecting to work in a kitchen. Because that what the job advert had said at the start. But then they kept asking me if I had worked at a bar before. “Have you pulled pints before?” That kinda thing. So the job was actually for a bartender position.

I shook hands with them at the end, knowing that they weren’t going to call me back. And, they never called me back.

It was real crummy of them, the employer family. It was mean on all of the other people who they didn’t give the job to either, because they’d kept them waiting for an hour and then wasted their time, even after they’d given the job to somebody else. But I was quite glad that I didn’t get the job with them. Wouldn’t want to work with people who were as careless as that. The irony was that the employers turned up late to their own job interview. Ha.

[keys2thefalcon]

It Happened One Mission

For @hanleiacelebration

Prompt: Anniversary

His legs were longer and could usually outrun her. But it had been crazy getting out then through the terminal and it was easier for her to dart around things. He lost sight of her a couple times but then she’d pop up a few feet away. It pissed him off a bit that she never seemed too concerned about keeping an eye on him but that was the Princess. She only had eyes for the Rebellion.

Han watched Leia dash inside the small transport then almost tripped over an old woman struggling with her bag. He somehow managed to not fall down, or knock the woman over, or swear too loudly at her. She was flustered, rattling on about getting to her daughter’s, the wheels on her bag were broken, she was going to miss her transport.

“Where?” He was shouting, which he knew probably wouldn’t help but the station was busy and he didn’t have much time.

“Where is my daughter?” The old lady looked around her and Han wondered if this was a dementia thing. “She’s on Capra. That’s where I’m going.”

“Your transport! Where’s your damn transport?”

She pointed to the ship maybe fifty feet away. Han grabbed the woman’s bag and ran inside. He shoved the bag on the luggage rack above an empty seat then raced back out. He heard a faint thank you but didn’t look back. He slid inside his own transport just as the doors closed and locked behind him.

Han took a few seconds to collect himself. Catch his breath. The car was crowded and loud and all seemed to know each other. They were talking, yelling across the seats, already sharing snacks and drinks, and taking up too damn much space in Han’s opinion.

He looked around but didn’t spot her right away. She was too short to be seen over the high seats anyway and likely tucked low to stay hidden. He moved down the aisle, keeping an eye out for her short wig and hat that she insisted on calling a bonnet just to bug him.

She’d been getting on his nerves non-stop this mission. It was supposed to be a quick job, in and out, but she kept coming up with detours. She told him he could mind his own business, find a card game or cheap cantina to entertain himself, but she had things to do. She wanted to see the training facility for herself, get some holos, and that led them to the vehicle pool. It was his idea to talk to the mechanics and that got them to the distribution centre where everything went to hell. They got out without too much blaster fire and only a few guards on their tail but it was one more time his life ended up on the line for some holos and a datachip. The pay, if there was any, was shit and there was definitely no glory. The Princess barely said thank you most of the time. Acted like he was the one who owed her something.

Two women, looked like a mother and daughter, were turned around in their seats with arms crossed on top. They were both talking and laughing and reminded Han of an advert. Probably selling insurance or housewares. Some over-the-top display of what a happy family was supposed to look like.

“This isn’t even all of us!” The mother’s voice carried over the rest of the noise which was kind of remarkable. “I have two brothers and their families coming in from Westlin.”

“And plenty we aren’t actually related to.” The daughter wasn’t as loud but just as enthusiastic. “They’ve collected a lot of people over the years.”

Han would’ve walked right past if she hadn’t answered them.

“I almost wish I could come with you. It sounds like a wonderful reunion.”

Leia wasn’t wearing the hat anymore, probably shoved in her bag, and had on a different jacket. She was sitting forward, practically on the edge of her seat. Her cheeks were still lightly flushed from their run. The adrenaline rush of making it out with all their info intact.

He plopped down in the seat beside her and expected to see a scowl. She’d been pissed at him for taking the nearest—and best option in that moment—exit out of the control room and setting off an alarm. Called him every insult she could muster while racing down the stairs. Said she was done with his idiotic schemes. But when she turned to look at him as he sat down, her eyes were bright. He might have said she looked happy if he didn’t know better.

“You made it. Thought I’d finally lost you for good.”

It was a jab but she was smiling.

“Gabbi, do you have the tickets?” A man called from across the aisle. He was rummaging through a bag and looking stressed.

“Duty calls.” The mother laughed and turned away. “Yes, husband dear. Everything is in order.”

More people got involved in the discussion. It was bizarre. Jokes and comments came all over. Everyone seemed to know the husband would have a moment of panic and Gabbi would have it all under control. Even the husband was laughing. Didn’t mind the ribbing. Agreed that he shouldn’t have doubted his wife’s organizational skills. Han tried to take it all in. Who the hell were these people?

“It’s their sixtieth wedding anniversary.”

He turned to Leia and she snickered at his obvious look of confusion. She leaned forward, over his lap, and pointed a few rows ahead.

“Up there.” The only thing visible was an elbow on an arm rest. “Gabbi’s parents. They are all going to Bercolt because that’s where they got married. All the kids, grandkids, friends.”

Leia sat back in her seat, resting her hands in her lap.

“Sounds exhausting.” He leaned back, resting his head against the seat. This flight already felt too long.

“Does everything have to be a problem with you?” She sounded frustrated. “Is it so hard to believe that a group of people like each other and want to spend time together?”

“Yeah.” He looked at her with full sneer disguised as a smile. “Fifty says there’s a fight before we land. Hundred it’s a fist fight.”

“You’re on.” She held out a hand to shake on it. She didn’t normally accept his bets so he was a little thrown off. “I will expect payment in full when we arrive.”

“Sure, sister.” He shook her hand. “Don’t worry. I pay my debts faster than your accountants.”

“Hmmm.” She raised an eyebrow. “I know of at least one Hutt who might disagree with that statement.”

The announcement to buckle in as the transport made the jump to lightspeed prevented him from responding but that was just as well. He couldn’t really argue with her point about Jabba.

They had a few hours flight and Han realized he didn’t have much to keep him occupied. Just sitting wasn’t going to cut it.

He felt the exhaustion catching up with him. They should’ve been on the Falcon but the stabilizers started acting up so they landed on Bercolt for repairs. Leia was furious. She ranted about his hunk of junk bucket of bolts ship and why did she ever think the Falcon would get the job done. Han was just as mad—at his damn ship for falling apart again—cos it felt like she was actually saying he was the one letting her down when he was doing every damn thing in his power to help—and spent as much time yelling as he did on repairs. When he and Chewie finally admitted they needed a new part, Leia announced she would take the transport on her own. That brought on more arguing but they ended up on the transport together. He was too wired, too aware that anything could go wrong, to get any sleep on that leg. Leia, however, conked out almost as soon as they hit hyperspace. Her head resting against his shoulder almost the entire way.

It was the opposite now. She was talking to Gabbi and her daughter but Han didn’t catch much of the conversation. Something about Gabbi’s parents running a dry goods shop that didn’t hold Han’s interest. He was lazily staring at her jacket. Finally noticed she hadn’t change jackets but turned hers inside out. Smart. Probably had that worked out earlier. Knew it was an option. Leia liked to know the options. Knew how to think on her feet. And looked good doing it. The jacket looked good on her. The exposed lining. It was a light blue and looked soft. So soft. Probably as soft as something. There was something he couldn’t quite name. Tip on his tongue.

“Honey cake?”

Han’s eyes shot open and he was set to knock the guy down if Leia didn’t grab his arm. The man leaning over Han was a lot older than Gabbi’s husband, probably in his eighties. He held out the container with honey cake, urging Leia to take a piece.

“My wife makes it. The best you’ll ever try.”

“Thank you.” Leia was cheery as she took some. Gave Han a quick nod to take his own. “It smells delicious.”

Han shook his head. First at Leia then the old man. He knew his eyes were probably a bit too wide but he’d been in a deep sleep only seconds earlier. This was a lot to take in all at once if he was expected to sit still and not rush at this man to get him the fuck away. Han didn’t like anyone standing so close.

The man walked off and Han turned back to Leia when he felt her move beside him. She rearranged herself in the seat, pulling her legs up and folding them beneath her. She cradled the cake in one hand.

“You were snoring.” She let out a soft laugh. “You look like you slept next to a magnet.”

He ran a hand over his head, thinking for some reason she meant his hair. He blinked a few times hoping to clear things up.

“How long was I out?” His voice was sounding rough.

“Maybe two hours.”

She broke off a piece of cake and put it in her mouth, careful not to lose a crumb. She always ate like that. Didn’t want anything to go to waste. Even when they were in the field and surviving on ration bars and meal replacement boxes. Slow and methodical. He watched her mouth for a few too many seconds.

“You missed a lot of juicy stuff. Gabbi and Harlon, that’s her daughter.” Leia nodded toward the seats in front of them. “They told me all about redecorating Harlon’s daughter’s room. Ruthy. That’s the daughter. Granddaughter. She’s sitting a few rows back with her father. All the cousins wanted to sit together so the fathers are back there pretending to keep watch. That’s how Gabbi described it. Pretending. Ruthy came up here a few times. She’s maybe seven and very cute.”

How or why was Leia still so energized? Didn’t she have a report to write? Plan some mission that would eventually get him killed?

“Why are you in such a good mood?”

Leia’s face fell very briefly but she put another piece of cake in her mouth and shrugged.

“Why do you insist on being such an ass?”

What the hell did that mean? She’d been tense before. Upset. Worried about the

mission than pissed when they ran into trouble. He was checking in on her and she snapped at him.

“Guess some people just bring it out in me.”

That got the reaction he was after though it wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped. She spun in her seat to face forward dropping her feet to the floor. She took a few obvious and deep breaths. Han waited for the comeback. The back and forth that fueled most of their interactions.

“I’m not falling for this time.” Leia put her hands in her lap again. “What about being surrounded by a happy, multi-generational family celebrating love and sharing honey-cake could put you in such a foul mood?”

“Never trust a happy crowd. All this talking and moving around is distraction. You should be checking your pockets instead of giving me a hard time.”

“I am not giving you a hard time.” She narrowed her eyes at him when she realized she almost took the bait. “No one in this car is a thief. Other than you, of course.”

“What the hell you done with the Princess? Two years straight, all I hear from you is the Rebellion. It’s the only thing that matters, all you want to think about, the only thing worth your time. Now suddenly it’s all baked goods and true love?”

“First of all, you know better than anyone that I do on occasion think about other things.”

A corner of her mouth went up in a half-smile and he felt caught. Yeah, he knew she had plenty else to say when she wanted but admitting that wasn’t going to help him make his point. He was losing sight of that point but felt certain he had one.

“It was a good day.” She turned in her seat. Rested her head against the seat while looking at him. “Things veered a bit off course but we got more than we anticipated. Information we can use. Information we desperately need. Take the day as a win, Han. It might be awhile before the next one.”

He felt wide awake. Ready for something. Another thing he couldn’t name.

“Do you know what you need?” She sat up again and Han knew he should probably be nervous. Alarm bells should be going off. “You need to learn more about Ruthy’s sticker collection.”

She leaned over him and called for Ruthy.

“More? Do I know anything about Ruthy’s sticker collection?”

“Trust me.” Leia was still leaning over him, waving down the aisle. “Once you know anything about the collection, you’ll never forget it.”

Han felt almost paralyzed at first and it didn’t help that Leia couldn’t stop laughing beside him. Ruthy stood in the aisle and rested the book on his lap. She went through every page and described every sticker in detail. It was a blur of names and storylines and superpowers he didn’t understand until he started asking questions. It still didn’t quite make sense after that but it was a hell of a lot more fun.

Ruthy’s stickers led to her older brother coming by to talk sports and his favourite team. Their little brother was, well, Han had no idea how old he was other than young. Not great at walking and didn’t say much. Gabbi spent a lot of time watching him. Called him her little bantha bear, which made no sense but Han could see the appeal.

Leia asked everyone questions. She might’ve been working recruitment but he was pretty sure she was just curious. She wanted to learn everything about these people in the time they had. She laughed at their stories. Listened and absorbed and stored them all.

Han looked up when he heard a loud clearing of a throat. The old man stood at the front and raised both his arms. Han watched as the man waited until everyone, including the non-family members in the car, quieted down and looked at him. There were a couple of giggles and someone clapped. Han exchanged a quick glance with Leia. She looked more curious than his perplexed.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.” The man’s singing voice was full and strong. Rich. “I'm half-crazy all for the love of you.”

Someone clapped and someone else let out a whoop.

“It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage.” He stretched his arms out wide and looked down at his wife. “But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a speeder bike built for two.”

The entire car burst into applause. Han looked over at Leia, sitting on the edge of her seat again and clapping. She was tearing up but looked happy.

“We will go tandem as man and wife.” The man helped his wife stand then draped an arm over her shoulder. “Peddling away down the road of life.”

Han didn’t exactly know what to do. He’d been in plenty of cantinas when beings started singing, usually very drunk and likely right before a brawl broke out. He wasn’t sure how he should react and if he should find cover for him and Leia in case things got messy. The old man continued to sing while he and his wife swayed. She rested a hand on his chest and laughed.

When the verse was done, Han turned back to Leia with a what the fuck just happened look but then a dozen people or more started singing the chorus. Back to Daisy and the speeder bike built for two. This time, everyone was swaying in their seats, including Leia.

A different guy, maybe a few years younger than Han, stood up. He was sitting far back in the car and Han thought he was with a different group but it was hard to tell. He jumped right into the next verse. Something about dark roads and bright lights in the dazzling eyes. That was the only part of the song that Han really understood. The young guy finished up, there was more cheering, then the chorus. More people were singing, filling the space with dozens of voices.

“How does everyone know this song?” Han stretched around his seat to look behind him. It was verging on rowdy but there was no brawl in sight. This was obviously something the family did often enough, including roping in strangers. He turned back to Leia. “You know this song?”

She could’ve rolled her eyes and said, Of course. Made a crack about everyone knowing this song. But instead she smiled and tilted her head. She nodded a few times and laughed, and when the chorus started up again she sang along.

Everyone was in on it now. He knew if he scanned the car, the old man would be at the front with his wife, her hand still on his chest, both of them swaying. Gabbi would be holding her grandson. Her husband would be standing at his seat, waving his arms like a conductor. But Han didn’t look around, didn’t scan the car. He kept his eyes locked on Leia.

There were still tears, welling up but refusing to drop. Her cheeks were getting that rosy tinge again. Not from running or adrenaline but taking in everything thing in the room. The happiness these people felt being together. And then he felt it. It was coming from her not the room. He wasn’t going to call it happiness cos that seemed like a leap and joy wasn’t a thing he acknowledged but he did wonder for a second what a bursting heart might feel like.

“You'll take the lead in each trip we take.”

Her voice was unexpected. Rich and full and haunting. Leia speaking could drive him mental, in good and bad ways, and he’d imagined sounds she might make in bed more than a few times. Singing, though. Her singing voice could crack a guy wide open. It felt like an invitation. A promise. The unimaginable.

“Then if I don't do well, I will permit you to use the brake.”

Her hand brushed against his. He moved his fingers to wrap around hers but she pulled away too quickly.

“My beautiful little Daisy Bell.”

Leia’s face went bright red as everyone cheered. Han clapped along with them. Whistled a few times and called out, “Nice, Sweetheart!” She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment and collapsed against the back of her seat as the crowd sang the final round of the chorus.

She didn’t sing along. The almost-tears were gone and her blush was starting to fade. Han twisted in his seat so he was facing her, shielding her from view. He reached out and pushed the bangs back, repositioning her wig that was slightly askew. She didn’t dart away when his fingers gently caressed her temple.

The song was done and Han could hear laughter, one of the kids let out a happy shriek, chatter as everyone settled back down. Leia sat up straighter and cleared her throat. She was trying to restore order. Probably planned on getting back to preparing her report and making plans for when they landed on Bercolt. Han chuckled and she raised an eyebrow, wondering what he thought was so funny.

He knew better than to admit what was on his mind. He shrugged instead. Repositioned himself in his seat. Gave her a bit of space so they could continue to enjoy this moment. Each other.

She could go back to her work and plans. Slip back into their arguments and insults. Do whatever she thought was needed to return to the normal they’d been living for two years. It was all fine with Han cos he knew the truth. There was no going back after this one.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49340953

[allstartrekgames]

Star Trek: Lower Decks: The Badgey Directive

Original Release: 2022

Developer: Mighty Kingdom

Publisher: East Side Games

Platform: Android/iOS

The Badgey Directive is an idle clicker game set on the USS Ceritos. Boimler is doing training in the holodeck doing menial tasks when Mariner spices things up by challenging the computer to create a task Boimler can’t win – the computer recreates Badgey who then sets the crew on tasks taken from the history banks – past missions from previous shows.

The game itself is quite simple. Icons charge up, when they’re ready you tap on it to get merit points. You spend these merit points to upgrade the icons and unlock new ones, which lead to more merit points. You can add a member of the Ceritos crew to a task to collect the merit points automatically. On top of merit points, you can get latinum (which is spent to skip requirements for buying/upgrading new things, or dilithium which is spent on upgrading characters and simulations.

What makes the game work are the little story segments you get as you hit milestones. The dialogue is extremely charming and it’s great seeing the Lower Deckers take on these missions. It’s great seeing them talk about the Kelpians and Saru, and to chase the artic explorer from the Enterprise episode “Regeneration” and realise that these unknown aliens the NX-01 faced were the Borg.

Getting in the way of this game is the adverts. If you don’t watch the adverts, your merit points are effectively halved. If the adverts were harmless, I wouldn’t mind, but I was served adverts for fake apps, apps aimed at taking advantage of gambling addicts and even adverts for games about sexually assaulting women. It massively sours the experience and it desperately needs some moderation.

I got to episode 16 before I hit the inevitable “wall” where progression turned from a few hours to weeks. At this point, the chore of playing wasn’t worth it to see more snippets of the story. I would much prefer this game in the form of a digital comic.

[f1]

F1 to court US market with pre-Miami GP summit featuring Hamilton

Formula 1’s latest effort to raise its profile in the United States will take place in the build-up to next week’s Miami Grand Prix. The F1 Accelerate Summit event will take place on Thursday ahead of the first of three American rounds on the calendar this year. The event is described as an opportunity for “trailblazers from the worlds of sports, entertainment and business to discuss how they can make a significant impact on the future of technology, performance, diversity and sustainability, not only in their own business but across industries and culture.” Among the F1 personalities taking part are seven-times world champion Lewis Hamilton, CEO Stefano Domenicali and McLaren Racing CEO Zak Brown. Following an introduction by Domenicali and Liberty Media CEO Greg Maffei, the six-hour event will begin with a session described as “a fireside chat with Sir Lewis Hamilton” on the theme of “the catalyst for change”. Hamilton, who is currently producing an F1 film featuring Brad Pitt, often speaks passionately and publicly about his interests outside of his motorsport career, including promoting diversity and inclusion. Later in the day Brown will appear alongside Domenicali, Maffei, F1 Academy managing director Susie Wolff and Miami Grand Prix managing partner Tom Garfinkel, who is also CEO of the Hard Rock Stadium where next week’s race will take place. This session “invites the leaders of the sport to lift the curtain for an exclusive look at what is next for F1.” A key draw of the event is likely to be the appearance of producer and director duo Jerry Bruckheimer and Joseph Kosinski who are working on Hamilton’s F1 film. The pair will share “an exclusive look” at the project, filming for which is due to begin soon. Underlining the event’s focus on entertainment, one session will discuss “the markets that athletes and professional sports leagues unlock when they play the Hollywood game.” This will be debated by Manish Pandey – the creative force behind the 2010 movie Senna and recent documentary on former F1 CEO Bernie Ecclestone, Lucky! – along with representatives from US F1 broadcaster ESPN and Drive to Survive broadcaster Netflix. Among the other speakers at the event are former F1 driver David Coulthard, presenting a session on how F1 exploits live data in its coverage. Another session focused on inclusion brings together Wolff, grand slam-winning tennis player Maria Sharapova, a representative of Monarch Collective – a firm that invests in women’s sports – and the CEO of the Hello Sunshine production company. The F1 Accelerate Summit is being held in conjunction with The Wall Street Journal and will take place at the Rubell Museum, south of the Miami International Autodrome near the city’s downtown district. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2023 F1 season Browse all 2023 F1 season articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

[pacifierbby]

ੈ ✩‧₊˚𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

* ੈ✩‧₊ Bumble where women come first. where women send the first message. However, Emily didn't know she was talking to anyone other than Lando Norris. Will Bumble be the first dating app she finds love with no other than an F1 racer?

୨ৎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 LN4 x reader

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 none

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 1,362

-𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑰-

──────────────୨ৎ 𝑩𝑼𝑴𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 ୨ৎ───────────────

Emily knew the consequences of online dating but all her friends had been pestering her to join this app they all had been talking about some luckier than others constantly going on dates nearly every Saturday her other friends trying a little too hard but she had no room to talk about stuff like that with her friends since Emily a little too private about her dating life and sex life even though her friends talk about it openly for Emily she wanted that private. Her friends never understood why she wasn't open about the subject since it was the most natural thing to do but Emily hated even talking about it it made her feel some type of way so she always tried to change the subject.

Looking through the Play Store finding some small games to play while settled on her train seat heading to the airport to go to Monaco for her job meetings since her boss gave her the ones out of the UK for some odd reason but she never asked why since he was a bit abrupt when people question about his choices also saying his usual phase remember who your boss is. No one ever questions him after that day everyone just goes on with their task. Still, Emily, she's the CEO's assistant so she, unfortunately, gets placed anywhere her boss gets meetings she never asks why can't he go he just sends her his marry way but she loves it she loves the touring bits when she has times. her phone pinging with another advert on the side "Download Bumble where women come first" hoovering over the download button and thinking about it for a few seconds it can't be that bad right she thought clicking the download button patiently waiting for the download circle to tell you it's done. Opening the App putting her information in where it's needed setting up her profile making sure she likes her photos before clicking on them. Looking through the men that were given to her some of them not tickling her fancy swiping left for not interested it was about 10 left before she landed on her kind of style scrolling down Lando Norris, Dogs, Cars, travelling, 5’10, want kids some day. swiping right have some hope that maybe he'll match with you but you know you weren't this perfect woman so you don't really have any hope on this app. Putting your phone in your pocket and quickly getting off the train making sure you have all your belongings before the train leaves for the next destination.

The airport was packed with kids screaming and running around the adults shouting for them to sit in the waiting area people trying to get to their gates. great you thought this plane ride wasn't going to be so peaceful that she hoped for.

security was more stressful than it usually was the officers stalling the line which she understood because they had a proto call to ensure that people were safe but she just wished she was settled on the plane placing her things and suitcase on the belt and watching it move slowly going through the metal detectors her belongings following close behind the guards nodding for her to collect her things rushing to the next belt placing her suitcase on the belt so it doesn't go missing when she lands in Monaco that happened to her before and she cant be bothered with dealing all that stress again.

Not having to wait long for the plane to arrive since security took a little longer than it usually did quickly joining the small queue that was getting a little bigger from the people that was behind her from the security. she was thankful that it was moving quicker the air hostess doing their exact job and helping people find their seats. sitting beside the window she must be honest but her boss did well with the window seat some people are more nervous when they're near the window but Emily enjoys that thrill probably why she goes instead of him. The other bosses confuse her as the manager instead of him which she has to quickly change to his assistant they always ask why he didn't join her but she just always shrugs never understanding why he never joined but she was thankful when the conversation changed to the meeting topics never wanting to give her boss any of the embarrassment.

The plane slowly took off giving some turbulence giving her some sort of thrill smiling at the wheels leaving the UK soil happy that she was not coming back for three weeks meaning she could have some sightseeing on Saturdays and Sundays which she had never done before which upset her last time because she fell in love with Monaco the minute she left the airport and standing on Monaco soil wanting to instantly move here the nights bring instant quietness in the city making it easier for Emily to fall asleep at night which for her in her town it was hard the cars racing constantly beneath her flat the engines roaring. Her phone pinged bringing her out of her thoughts the bumble app appeared in her notifications "YOU HAVE A MATCH" opening the notification thinking it was the app making her open the godamn thing but she was wrong "Lando Norris matched you say hi!" her fingers hoovering the H wondering if she should say hi. You only live once she thought quickly typing Hi, how are you? like before not really expecting a message back but before she could even put her phone back in the safety of her bag Lando replied "Hi love, I'm good, how are you doing today?" quickly typing "Hi lando I'm good and that's good!! been a busy morning rushing to get to the airport hahaha" not wanting to the conversation to die before it even began she really didn't want Lando to think she was some kind of boring person. Landos messaging popping through "hahaha I hate airports and planes do it all the time for work but travelling is so worth it going to see every destination. but can I ask where you going?" Thinking about the last part of the message your mother always told you about online he seems sweet enough and he didn't look like someone who would stalk you "I know what you mean I do it all the time for work so I really understand the struggle but yes! the travelling is so worth it at the end of the stressful airport hassle that's what makes it so fun for me. and I'm travelling to Monaco for a meeting for my boss been here before and I instantly fell in love here and want to move to Monaco one day" It didn't take long for the three balls to pop up applying that lando was typing looking outside the window the sky changing colour from blue to a lighter shade the sun shining in the plane giving her a little glow on her face. looking down at her phone "No way! I live in Monaco for work and I lived in the UK and instantly fell in love here too at the moment I'm in Germany which is a shame but I'll be home on Saturday if you want me to go sightseeing with you?" shocked about the invite but it's an offer that you really cant refuse. instantly typing out "of course I would love too" not really care if he was a serial killer or some old man that was just catfishing but she will come to that situation on Saturday "great I will see you Saturday my little tourist buddy 💕 I've got to go now but ill message you after work?" smiling down at the message people on the plane probably like you was some kind off serial killer never mind Lando but you really didn't care this Lando guy was sweet making you somewhat fall for him over text somehow " Watching the plane hit Monaco's soil smiling at what the three weeks will bring.

© pacifierbby works

𝐈𝐈

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ✧˖*°࿐@eloriis @sltwins @sagestack

✧˖*°࿐ 𝐀/𝐍 This will be a part series I'm not sure how many parts yet please show it some love

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

THE JUNGLE WOMEN RENDITIONS OF KICKSTARTER & PAPERFILMS.

PIC(S) INFO: Mega spotlight on preliminary cover art to "Fantasima" Vol. 1, pen & ink artwork by Dan Panosian, c. spring 2024, from the private collection of Jimmy Palmiotti, plus published promo advert for the creator-owned comic book, written by Jimmy Palmiotti, published by Paperfilms and funded via KICKSTARTER.

Resolution at 1366x1891 & 1080x1350.

Source: https://x.com/jpalmiotti/status/1757191292080042331 & Comic Art Fans.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Mary Poppins (1964, Robert Stevenson)

05/02/2024

Mary Poppins is a 1964 mixed media film (live action and animation) directed by Robert Stevenson, based on the series of novels of the same name written by Pamela Lyndon Travers.

London, 1906. Bert, a man of all trades, is among other things a street orchestra man.

Doubting that his careless wife and suffragette, Winifred will be able to find an efficient nanny for the umpteenth time, George has an advert published in the Times with the requirements that a governess should have in his opinion.

A strong wind that suddenly rose sweeps away all the aspiring workers: recalled by the bizarre letter from the two little ones, which reached her through the fireplace, the "supernanny" Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every respect, comes down from the sky with an umbrella.

A pyrotechnic attack by Admiral Boom, who mistakes the chimney sweeps for Hottentots, forces the group to continue the celebration in the living room of the Banks house, involving Winifred and the maids in the dancing.

The protagonist of the film is Mary Poppins - a magical nanny who arrives at number 17 of Cherry Tree Lane flying down from the sky during a day with the wind blowing from the East, attached to a black umbrella with a handle in the shape of a talking parrot's head - who takes care of the siblings Jane and Michael Banks in the family's most difficult moment.

When George Banks is fired, instead of being destroyed, he is cheerful and sings with his family; while her mother, Winnifred Banks, is a full-time suffragette, who participated in many demonstrations on women's emancipation.

In 1934, P. L. Travers, pseudonym of the Australian Helen Lyndon Goff, published the novel Mary Poppins, which tells the story of the magical flying nanny who comes down from the sky to help the Banks family. The sequel was published in 1935, followed by six more novels, published until 1988.

According to the story told in Saving Mr. Banks and the special features of the 2004 special edition DVD, Walt Disney's daughter Diane fell in love with the books of the series and made her father promise to produce a film based on her beloved books. The Sherman brothers composed the soundtrack and helped write the script, suggesting moving the events from the 1930s to the Edwardian era.

Many parts of the correspondence between Disney and Travers are part of the collection in the Library of New South Wales, Australia.

Their relationship during the production of Mary Poppins is told in a dramatic version in the film Saving Mr. Banks, produced by Walt Disney Pictures in 2013.

The film was shot entirely at the Walt Disney Studios in Burbank, California. Some hand-made drawings of the discarded scenarios were used for the overture of the film's sequel.

The penguins who serve tea to Mary Poppins and Bert were voiced, in the original version, by James MacDonald, who also took care of the sound effects of the film.

David Tomlinson acted with a fake mustache at Walt Disney's request.

The other actresses considered for the part of Mary Poppins were Bette Davis and Angela Lansbury.

[itsrattysworld]

Without Prejudice Mervelee Myers Retrain My Brain To Function Years After I Write To LEYF Senior HR Dilys Epton Eve Mothering Sunday 2015 Am Depressed Dying Slowly Of Torture With Online Fundraiser Advocate 2008 Cancer Research Parkinson's Macmillan... Expert Authority Subjects Cradle Grave EYFS Coordinator SENCO Multi Generational Working Approach Facilitator I Became Victim Of Facebook Give LEYF Access To Account 18/9/15 LinkedIn Stole 3 Accounts Twitter Google My Business YouTube Suspension Strike 1st Website My Vision Use By Oxeyes Amount Of Adverts On Video With Nigel Pearce Meet At Elim House Person Southwark Law Centre Stolen Intellectual Property Copyright Images CPPDP Will Not Be Silence By Unlawful Injunction Of Housing For Women Samantha Gibbs Trina Philbert Narin Masera Bought Out Stephen Agera Mimi Owusu Scam Me £10,000.00 Must Do Series Of Scammers Barclays 2004 CCMCC Fail To Collect Ryan Clement £9450.00 Am Lucky To Have My Husband Strength Even When He Is Traumatised 11/1/24

Without Prejudice Mervelee Myers Hold Metropolitan Police A New Met For London Team Responsible For Not Acting On My Request To Volunteer To Bring Back Trust Of Windrush Generation Instead Party To ASB Of Deborah Agnes Gilchrist Coerced By Housing For Women To Target Me Raised Concerns Via Survey Member Of Scrutiny Panel Minute Taker Met Rev Rose Hudson AGM After Say Final Goodbye To Mama Lou…

[florasearlethirdyear]

Investigative Study Week 6 HW

Synopsis:

How have women’s reproductive health campaigns changed from the 1940’s to the present day? 

Within my study of the topic question ‘How have women’s reproductive health campaigns changed from the 1940’s to the present day?’; I have analyzed how women and gender roles have transformed throughout history. My research aims to identify the changes in societal norms related to gender and whether certain stereotypes persist. In understanding of how women are presented in health campaigns, my research can contribute to discussions of sexism within healthcare and its contribution to medical neglect. Reproductive health is an important aspect of public health and campaigns often shape societal perceptions and behaviors. These perceptions ultimately impact how women are treated by medical industries and practitioners. It is essential that these campaigns are examined as it can have detrimental effects on how women are treated. On a personal level, I have witnessed how sexism within medicine has contributed to the neglect and suffering of women. By extension of this topic, achieving gender equality is a worldwide priority and how women are depicted within campaigns contributes to discussions on gender equality and efforts to promote women’s rights. As a visual communicator, social issues have been at the core of most of my projects, including the representation of neurodiversity, the isolation of young people in a world of technology and the liberation of North Korean refugees.  

My research sources span a collection of newspaper articles and poster advertisements, to the growingly digitized campaigns of contemporary media. My research has highlighted the social progression of women’s rights and, most notably, how perceptions of women’s roles fluctuated during the Second World War. The progression of time highlights the increasingly open conversations surrounding women's health, including primary topics within reproductive health such as menstruation and menopause. In conjunction to conversation, there has been steady improvements in women's health within the medical industry, such as the introduction of chemical-free sanitary products. Additionally, the dialogue of these advertisements has shifted dramatically from their messaging to the benefits of men, to directly addressing advantages catered to the intended female audience. In the same light, older advertisements surrounding venereal diseases demonized and placed blame on women’s sexuality, but modern campaigns highlight sexual health as a shared responsibility.  

Overall, the campaigns and advertisements are simply a snapshot into the wider issue surrounding the malignant sexism that has dominated our society for centuries. These attitudes bleed into how women are treated by the medical industry, primarily with neglect. According to Endometriosis UK, the average waiting time for a diagnosis of endometritis is seven years. However, this essay is not to disregard the incredible work and efforts of women who have fought tirelessly for our rights, for the women who endured bodily tortures and lost their lives to experiments for the betterment of our health and for the women who have pioneered medical advancements in understanding the female body, where men have not. 

Table of Contents: 

Synopsis 

1940’s Second World War Venereal Disease Campaigns and Women’s Roles  

AIDS and condom adverts 1980’s-current 

Women’s sanitary health 1940’s Lysol and Tampax-present day 

Abortion rights campaigns 1960’s-present 

Menopause adverts Premarin 1940’s-present  

Conclusion