#wholesale down jackets

[stephinechrist14]

[jacketssupplier]

How to Pick the Perfect Jacket For A Date

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

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

[octuscle]

Hi Chronivac support: I hope you can help me. I am an affluent, well-educated, overgroomed, overdressed white corporate executive, but I know that is not my REAL calling and identity. I have very expensive clothes and a BMW, and even my name Timothy is formal and classy.

However, I know that I should be an uneducated manual laborer, working as a garbageman. My REAL calling. I must be forced to surrender my corporate career, my office, my BMW, my expensive formal Italian suit and tie, my briefcase, my manicured fingernails, my styled hair, my wristwatch and polished black dress shoes and socks and yes, even my own name along the way down the class ladder to my new real life. But I don’t have the courage to make the changes alone. Can you show me the way to transformation? Thank you.

Seriously? Well, it actually doesn't look like there's any reason for you to be dissatisfied with your life. But if you want to…

While you are taking your croissant and your cappuccino, your cell phone vibrates. You take it out of the inside pocket of your tailored Scabal jacket. But it's not your new iPhone 15 Pro. It's an old rather bruised device. But you know the code to activate it. The message you got is in Turkish. It's called "If you don't get your ass to the site in half an hour, you're out of a job." Unfortunately, you don't understand Turkish yet. The transformation has only arrived at your calloused hands and dirty fingernails. Your skin is getting darker. The back of your hands hairier. In incipient panic, you reach for your Montblanc wallet. But there is only a cheap nylon wallet in your worn jacket. With a few dirty bills inside. Fuck, if you pay for your breakfast, you're broke. You look around. And relax. Here in your favorite café, tea and sesame curls only cost a few cents. And you can pay later if necessary.

You get a new message. That you can pick up your wages for the last ten days later at the construction site. After that, you don't have to show your face again. Fuck, that means you'll have to bum cigarettes again the next few days. But working sucks too. And in case of need you can always carry boxes in the morning at the wholesale market. And actually, what the social security office pays you is by and large sufficient. Shit, the pissers said that you have to visit the employment office today. Otherwise they will stop paying you.

In the bus you drive without a ticket. What for? You have better things to spend your money on. The lady you sat next to gets up after a few minutes and changes her seat. Just because you are looking at pictures of fat cocks on your cell phone and massage your bulge. Infidel buffer!

You know what your name means, Ünal? It means "fame." What a contradiction to your new life. Let's see if the employment office has a job for you today.

Pics from your old and your new life found @mensuited and @hairyturkandarabstuds

[bantarleton]

Thomas Dowdeswell, by Joseph Blackburn c. 1778. Dowdeswell was a Lieutenant and Captain (a ranking convention peculiar to the Brigade of Guards that I won’t get into here) in the 1st Foot Guards during the American Revolution, and this portrait shows him in the modified campaign uniform he wore in the early years of the conflict.

Superficially it follows what we might expect from an officer’s garb, but differs from standard regulations in many interesting ways. Firstly, Dowdeswell’s hat is not the cocked “tricorn” (to use the later term) that we’re used to – it’s been modified by being cut down into a small round hat, with the lace left off and only one side pinned up, plus a few feathers.

He carries a fusil and bayonet and the accoutrements that go with it – belting and a cartridge pouch, making him appear in this regard almost indistinguishable from a regular private soldier. It seems he doesn’t have a sword. He has kept his gorget and sash, but removed the gold lace from around his buttons. In fact, his regimental coat has been cut down to a jacket, with the skirts shortened.

Besides these more obvious modifications, there are many minor ones that set him apart, from the pointed design of the cuffs to the slender trim of white cord around his collar and turnbacks. It is an ensemble that doesn’t match most regulations, but fits with reality.

Officers rarely modified their uniforms wholesale during the war, but nor were they all strident followers of the 1768 regulations. The traditional rank signifiers of sash, gorget and epaulettes were sometimes present in different combinations. Not, of course, that a formal portrait necessarily denotes exactly what was worn during active service, but in Dowdeswell’s case he seems to have specifically worn his “campaign uniform.”

There are further caveats to this – the Brigade of Guards made a lot of specific uniform modifications prior to deploying to North America in 1776, but didn’t keep all of them up throughout the war. Officers dressed differently in different theatres and at different times.

But I think the Dowdeswell portrait gives a nice indication of some of the variation at play. Much of this comes from the brilliant research of Professor Gregory Urwin, who has studied and analysed hundreds of portraits of British officers from the period. For the full modifications undertaken by the Brigade of Guards in 1776, see this excellent article by William W. Burke and Linnea M. Bass https://www.military-historians.org/company/journal/guards/guards.htm 15/15

[wanda-little-baby]

New Encounters - Wanda x Reader

Summary: You finally get to meet Wanda and her twin brother, things get a little too hard but somehow you bond with the twins

Warnings: doing superhero stuff, blood, use of magic, honestly I don't find so many warnings here

A/N: It sounds strange, but it's the second month that I get sick early in the month and I keep asking why?

Words: 3.621

Italics: thoughts - mental communication with Wanda

The most complicated journey I've ever done.

Once you've set the course, with your hands still on the yoke, you juggle the skies over the Atlantic.

With deep blue below the Quinjet and a light blue above, the view is monotonous and calm enough to put you on autopilot the jet and think a bit.

Not bad as a first time piloting it on my own

"I still have a long way to go so I can afford the luxury of making a plan" you whisper, rubbing your hands and looking around you. "Stay calm, that's the important thing, I just want to talk to them." you tapped your worried leg.

You have tried many times, various ways of presenting yourself, all very clumsy. "How can I get someone who would like to kill me to listen to me? I miss Steve's pep talks" I sighed, shaking my head and returning to fly the aircraft.

It was still the first light of dawn when you caught sight of the coasts of Portugal, indicating that you had reached Europe. The whole crossing went quite well, at least up to the Alps, where the weather began to darken before releasing a powerful blizzard accompanied by hail. I tried to go up to avoid the snow, but the hail damaged a wing forcing me to make an emergency landing.

Here you are, in the snow, with the only vehicle available broken, two kilometers from Vienna and cold.

So do the only sensible thing, put on a heavy jacket, a scarf, and go out for a hike to town

I need a few materials, most of them are already on jets, the tools too ... At most I will spend one night in Vienna.

I think, walking through the streets of the city and looking at the snow-covered buildings. The air is freezing, the locals move on outside, while a stranger like you is amazed by the beauty of the place.

Go to a kind of wholesale hardware and get the materials you wanted. On the way back, you book a room in an inn for prevention, and buy (with the money of a certain billionaire) a motorcycle (I know I will need it).

So, you get back to the jet and get to work.

Piece by piece, put the wing back in shape with a magical help, watching the hours pass little by little

When night comes, you go back to town and take a little break in a clean bed. At the first light of dawn, just as you darted into the city, you return to the Quinjet and resume the journey from where you were, it will be interrupted.

"Well, no more interruptions now," you sigh, starting the engines and getting ready for takeoff. The cell phone in the pocket vibrates

Join us in Seoul, South Korea. It's important!

A message, signed Nat, telling me to go to South Korea. Seriously?

"Why do I have to go to South Korea?" you wonder, obviously unaware of what your friends have been doing in the last couple of days, so you reply at the message

Why???

I await an answer quivering in anticipation

Ultron. Has the twins. He wants to get a new body. They took Dr. Cho's lab hostage. He has some vibranium and wants to use the regeneration cradle. Keep up. :-)

Time to read this message and you are already setting the route for the capital of South Korea.

——————————————————————

Push the engines hard, but eventually get there much earlier than expected by landing on a rooftop a few blocks from the lab.

"Guys, are you there?" ask by turning on the headset

"Y/N! Where are you?" Steve's voice comes out surprised, already making you understand his expression on his face you grin realizing that no one knew of your arrival. "On a roof, a few blocks from the laboratory. Where are you instead?" you ask looking down at the surrounding buildings.

"I'm chasing a lab truck on the junction near the bridge," he gasps, clearly in the middle of a battle. "Okay, I'm on my way" you say putting two pistols in holsters on your ankles.

The building is low so you jump off the bike and enter traffic.

The cars whiz by, you keep going straight ahead until there it is! The lab truck with Cap and Ultron on it to fight.

Just the instant before you can be close enough to get on the truck, they move inside the train that was passing at that moment. Instinctively you make a skid, you push yourself away from the bike and start flying towards the train.

Above the train you crash, as if you had taken off in autopilot and now you have regained consciousness, take a deep breath and get off in a carriage.

Pure adrenaline flows through your veins, a single spark would be enough to make you explode but you find yourself there with Steve getting punched by a robot. "Hey Steve! Would you like a little help?" you said attracting the attention of the two. "Maybe" he mumbles before getting punched in the stomach. Then a gust of wind, and the robot is pushed away by Steve.

Following the trail, there he is, a boy with white hair and blue eyes. Pietro, that's his name, seems nice.

And then a flash of red coming from behind you makes you turn around and you recognize her. Wanda, the girl you were looking for.

Brown hair adorned her head, hanging over her shoulders taut for battle. A face that will be difficult to forget (not that I want to forget it), with those deep green eyes like an abyss and the light dusting of freckles on her nose. Her fingers decorated with some rings and black enamel move sinuously wrapped in the magic that unites us. Her hips majestically covered by her clothes, wrapped in a kind of red shawl. In short, perfect, it is what you think of her as you study her passing your eyes over her entire body until you meet her gaze. The blush appears on both of your faces as you look away to return to reality.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Ultron punches another hole in the car and sneaks off, not before killing the driver. "Are you OK?" I ask, turning to Wanda for the first time, looking at her worriedly. "Yes" she sighs, leaving me to listen to that whisper a thousand times again to remember her beautiful voice.

The train arrives at the end of the line, but having died the driver continues to advance through the streets of the city.

"Civilian in our path," Steve says to the twins.

Then, Pietro runs away from in front of the train all obstacles or civilians to avoid casualties while Steve turns to me and Wanda "Can you stop this thing?".

Confusion, is what you see when you turn around and look for any expression from the sokovian and then you expose yourself "If she can, I can try" I say looking at her encouraging her to start.

Red threads begin to come out of Wanda's hands, red threads that wrap around the train to stop it, seeing her you start doing the same only with more effort than her leaving her even more amazed.

The train stops, Wanda goes to her brother and you make sure all the civilians get out of that thing before rejoining the conversation the two of them were having with Steve.

"The cradle. Did you get it?" Wanda says at Steve.

"Stark will take care of it" he reply

This conversation is so tense

At those words, Wanda's expression darkens. "No, he won't" this words come out almost if they were a sigh. "You don't know what you're talking about. Stark's not crazy" Steve said, in a tone a little angry.

"He would do anything to make things right!" Wanda said, becoming increasingly bristly towards the blond in front of her.

So, Steve tries to get in touch with Tony or any other team member but nothing, no one answers.

"Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he gets that?" were the last words she spoke in that country to anyone other than her brother, as we were making our way quickly back to the tower to prevent an impending disaster.

——————————————————————

"I'm gonna say this once" Steve stated as he entered the lab with us. "How about 'none-ce'?" that conceited being Tony pointed out, angering you and the twins even more. "Shut it now!" then the captain exclaimed, obviously being ignored. "Nope, not gonna happen" so Tony replied, continuing undeterred to plot with the cradle. "You don't know what you're doing" he remarked on the other hand, trying to make them think.

"And you do? She's not in your head?" Bruce interjected, hinting at something you couldn't help but respond to.

"Oh but do me a favor Bruce!" you screamed pointing out your nervousness. "I have the same powers of her as she does," you say pointing to Wanda behind you. "And if I had wanted to control the minds of each of you I would have done it at any time and you wouldn't have even noticed." take a short break and catch your breath. "So yes I trust Wanda because I feel I can do it!" you affirm with conviction, giving a brief glance of understanding to the brunette behind.

What you didn't notice, however, as you went out of your way to defend Wanda, a stranger, was that she was looking at you wondering

why you were doing this?

You were defending a stranger who until recently wanted to kill all your friends including you. Yet that gesture, that trust, was something Wanda hadn't seen for a long time, it warmed her heart and maybe made her flutter a little with her emotion.

So when she realized that Bruce was going to argue with your words she exposed herself to take all the blame, after all she felt she deserved it. "I know you're angry" she apologized, without even knowing why, but she did and was rejected.

"Oh, we're way past that. I could chocke the life out of you and never change a shade" impassively angry the doctor stated.

"Banner, after everything that's happened..." Steve started explaining, being interrupted again. "It's nothing compared to what's coming!" at this point Tony exclaimed in annoyance.

Here, here the uproar has broken out.

"You don't know what's in there" full of conflicting anger, Wanda exclaimed

"This isn't a game!" Steve pressed the situation

"What if Ultron already connected with that thing? We don't want another one!" with one hand in your hair and the other pointing to the cradle you pointed out trying not to go crazy for the absurdity of the situation.

It was then that Pietro made his move, in less than a second he disconnected the power and interrupted the transfer.

"No, no. Go on. You were saying?" sarcastically he addressed all of us still stunned

And then ... A shot, a bullet passes right in front of the Sokovian's face, breaking the glass he was standing on and knocking him down. "Pietro!" Wanda cried out, bringing out all her concern for her brother.

"I'm reroating the upload" Tony announced before going back to what he did as if nothing had happened.

To prevent any continuation then Steve took and threw his shield at one of the many computers destroying it before taking a beam from the thruster of the glove that Tony had mounted in the meantime.

So then the battle begins, dude huh? The closest thing you've had in the last couple of years to a family (dysfunctional but still family) was slaughtering itself for a stupid piece of vibranium.

The thought had just enough time to formulate itself before looking at Wanda gripped by Bruce. "Go ahead, piss me off" he urged him to make her give in.

Then an idea came to you, you approached making red threads shine from your hands and looking menacingly at Bruce "Leave her alone, I'll tell you once" I threaten Bruce thinking about activating the second part of the plan.

If Wanda has the same powers as me she can hear my thoughts, maybe I can use it to help her.

Wanda!!! If you are there, if you are listening, I distract him, you lay him down ok? If you understand, give me a sign!

For the first two seconds nothing then a red glint appeared in her pupils, here it is the sign, she listened.

With Bruce focused on you, he didn't notice Wanda hitting herself to get both of them off balance and then hitting him hard.

It was you and her ready to fight side by side when Thor carefully landed and he went to put on the cradle and charging a powerful bolt of lightning from his hammer headed for the cradle.

Upon receiving the discharge, the transfer is quickly finished, and in the general amazement and wind caused by the discharge the lid leapt up and the god jolted somewhere else.

One thing came out, he looks like a man, but he's not, you feel it and you're sure Wanda feels it too from the way she looks at him. So all you do is ask her.

Do you have any idea what this is?

you tell her, trying to tell in her mind, hoping he wants to hear it.

Ultron created it, that's enough

she replies in an intriguingly cold tone, surely there is something underneath but she doesn't want to say it, she's fine so we're not so friends and you can understand.

The "chat" lasts a few milliseconds during the squad's astonished looks at the thing in front of them before it tries to attack Thor to end up face-to-wall in the common area. The mystery was clear so with a nod everyone goes there to understand. When we arrived (you, Wanda and Bruce) it was different, he had "dressed up" and was talking to Thor.

"I'm sorry. That was... odd. Thank you" in a calm, quiet voice he addressed the god

Wait up? Too familiar a voice, JARVIS?

You didn't have time to ask why the conversation (more interrogation, than conversation) had already gone on.

"Thor. You helped create this?" Steve asked unsure of what prompted the god to do what he had done.

"I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its center is that" he said pointing his finger at the gem. "What? The gem?" Bruce tried to understand better.

"It's the Mind Stone. It's one of the six Infinity Stones. The greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities" Eventually he explained himself, making things less clear at the same time

"Then why you would bring..." Steve tried to continue. "Because Stark is right" the Norse god stated firmly.

"Oh, its definitely the end of times" then Bruce sighed demoralized

"The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron" Thor asserted with conviction. "Not alone" The "Vision" remarked, walking ever closer to us.

"Why does you Vision sounds like JARVIS? finally someone has the nerve to ask, and thank god that someone is Steve. "We reconfigured JARVIS's matrix to create something new" Tony promptly exposed, almost going face to face with the "Vision"

"I think I've had my fill of new" annoyed by recent events, Steve replied

"You think I'm a child of Ultron" the sytezoid firmly admitted a rather normal thought at this point

"You're not?" rightly Steve asked surprised, and wanting to make sure other wise

"I'm not Ultron. I am not JARVIS. I am... I am" at this point the AI no longer an AI realized it in amazement

Then Wanda stepped forward looking for explanations for her visions. "I looked in your head, and saw annihilation" with horror she remembered

"Look again" then the vision encouraged Wanda leaving you a little perplexed

"Her seal of approval means jack to me" Agent Barton scoffed at the words before he was struck by a very angry look from you deep inside.

"Their powers, the orror in our heads, Ultron himself, they all come from the Mind Stone. And they're nothing compared to what it can unleashed. But with it in our side..." Thor explained, matching all the pieces of the puzzle, except for one question.

"Is it? Are you? On our side?" the super soldier asked uncertainly, turning to the syntezoid.

"I don't think it's that simple" he admitted, a little to himself and a little to those present

In a tone more serious than sarcastic the archer said his last sentence "Well, it better get real simple real soon"

"I'm on the side of life. Ultron isn't. He will end it all."

"What's he waiting for?" Stark asked, unsure why you weren't all dead already.

"You" the newly born vision announced, with no little surprise

"Where?" Bruce asks worried

"Sokovia. He's got Nat there, too" the not-so-likable archer to you, he said as he walked around and looked (threateningly?) at the twins.

As Bruce approached the sentient being trying to peer an answer in his robotically alive eyes "If we're wrong about you, if you're the monster that Ultron made you to be..."

"What will you do?" curiously, the being replied thus, avoiding the continuum of the unspoken sentence.

There was a short pause, a few seconds, this made you realize whatever I'm about to say was going to be long and important.

Then Vision began to walk forward observed by all "I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the Earth." painfully, as if he really cared, he recognized the baleful words before continuing "So, he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net." emphasizes emphatically before turning to us.

"We have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others." he said staring one by one into the team's eyes

"Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd known if I were one." resigning himself, he looked at himself and expressed his thoughts

"I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So, there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go." He concluded with a flourish, taking the mjølnir and handing it to Thor to the general amazement of the team before walking away.

"Right. Well done." Embarrassed, the god patted Tony on the shoulder before reaching the robot.

"Three minutes. Get what you need." was the order that the captain gave, giving his ultimatum.

——————————————————————

Ok what you need, I have it, but the twins? They have nothing and I know what they need

"Maximoff twins, please follow me, you will not regret it" you invite the two a little older than you to follow you.

To which, initially you receive strange looks from the two and then after a brief exchange of glances between them and a nonchalant shrug from Pietro you find yourself leading them into the armory where you keep most of your creations.

"This is all yours, you can choose!" nod to all the gear behind you letting the twins choose before you go to get your armor back.

When you return, you find Wanda staring at Thor and Vision from afar and then with a smiling look you approach her. "Nice view huh?" you ask pulling her abruptly away from the flow of her thoughts and making her jump in surprise "Eh, ah yes yes no, I was just thinking" awkwardly embarrassed of her he spits out a more than plausible excuse.

"A penny for your thoughts? Anyway, yes, I understand you, it happens" you touch her shoulder with yours, losing the slight thrill that follows.

You stood there for a while staring at nothing before Pietro threw a red leather jacket to his sister and received a crooked glance as a thank you.

"It'll look good on you, it's red, it looks good on you. And then I did it, so it's perfect, I won't be Stark but I can handle it." point out by explaining everything very carefully.

"Did you made it?" she asks, giving you the most beautiful look you can see

"You know, after two years in here you learn something" you continue ignoring the pressure on your stomach when you think about it. "Two years?" she asks you with more curiosity in her eyes.

"Yeah, since I ..." you stop mid-sentence when your eyes start to sparkle with tears and she looks at you like she understands, she probably does, that's what you need and she understands it . "No, it's okay, don't tell me. I've been there" she reassures you by passing a hand over her shoulder, shivering at the contact, while you instead rock yourself in her warm touch.

"See you at Quinjet, I'll wait for you there" you says sobbing before running away, fleeing but muttering a faint thank you hoping she hears it.

Pietro looks at his sister with a beaming smile before she begins to speak. "Piet don't say it!" she says annoyed. "What? That you have a little crush on your new friend?" he joked, fearful of danger, of such a powerful sister.

"I don't have a crush! She's just a girl, with my same powers, it's normal that we have a special bond, and then at the moment we're just friends" she poses a little embarrassed, with a slight blush on her cheeks, having a short laugh by her brother attenuated immediately after a flash of red passed between her eyes. "If you say so, sestra."

[mister-writes]

Heads Up, 7 Up

Tagged by @chauceryfairytales here and @imbrisvastatio here! Thanks so much for the tags!

Gently tagging @cosmo-lexies @bluberimufim and @loopyhoopywrites if you'd like!

I'm back to more wholesale rewriting in my editing phase, so it's going a little slow. Here's a little snippet from Wildblood:

Kerris's flesh stung as he sliced through it with the needle, tugging it into place, threading and tying and cutting in a slow, rhythmic, well-practiced motion. The movement wasn’t the only thing that was familiar to him. This whole landscape wrapped around him like a well-worn jacket. He knew every rise and crease of the ground, every curve of the border between the clearing and the forest foliage. And he knew the tree that he sat beneath, his back leaning against the knotted bark that had been smoothed down by countless children’s feet as they clambered into its sprawling branches. There were a few more scars in the wood than he remembered, but otherwise it was just as he had left it. In the darkness, he could almost picture a pair of legs dangling from the branch over him, swinging back and forth as the branch bobbed and creaked in the breeze. 

[beesmygod]

im gonna be real if a guy could actually pull off emulating ryan gosling from drive i'd give that relationship a shot. comforting to know that if anyone harasses me in an elevator, discount wholesale ryan gosling will obliterate the harasser's skull. also, free car repair

i have great news for you then: there is a man who is probably late 20s early 30s by now who drives or drove for rose city cabs in portland wearing the stupid jacket and a pair of sunglasses. i know this bc i spent 40 mins riding the trimet into the city to get a nice cup of coffee and get out of the house for a while and when i sat down with my coffee i saw him and decided to go home immediately

[heyits-asher]

CLOSED STARTER for @collinsapsley where: wholesale store to start, anywhere after

See… It’s sort of a hard thing to explain.

That is, why a bag of Twizzlers and a lacy pink bra fell from his person, in the middle of the wholesale center—which, by the way, is a place liable to give someone like Asher a fucking aneurism, because fuck, that is a lot of stimulation and people and things, and—fuck, okay, regular breathing patterns Ortiz. Regular breathing patterns, in, out, one two three.

Anyway. It’s a hard thing to explain, as he is soon staring down at the candy and the push-up bra that has just slipped out of his jacket, and someone has seen the whole fucking thing, giving him a certain side eye that makes him wonder if he can somehow play this off. He scrambles to pick the Twizzlers up, but he neglects the intimates purposely. Why has luck not been on his side lately...? "Oh. Yeah—hi. Hello. This… was not in my jacket, actually. And I don't know where that came from."

[tinnalover]

How to Choose a Bodycon Dress Suitable for Daily Wear?

For daily wear, every woman has her own pursuit, and it is undeniable that beauty is what every woman needs. Because of this, women pay more attention to everyday wear.

Take the present as an example, although the temperature is gradually rising, the enthusiasm of women in pursuit of beauty has not diminished in the slightest. In the hearts of many women, the shaping of beauty and coolness are very important, and because of this, women will choose those dresses that suit them and can add points to their look.

Just like this tight dress, in this season when most girls choose skirts, this skirt is obviously very in line with the current "mainstream". It especially highlights your body curve, and looks very cool and comfortable. Therefore, we also need to choose a tight dress that suits us.

Choose a comfortable fabric first: When choosing a sheath dress for everyday wear, comfort is key. Look for high-stretch materials, such as jersey or wetsuits, that are comfortable and fit well enough to keep us cool throughout the day, allowing us to maintain a more casual and comfortable look at all times.

The second is to think about dressing: pair a sheath dress with casual accessories to tone down the look. Consider minimalist jewelry, a denim jacket, or a pair of white sneakers for a very nice and natural look. Summer is the best time to wear a bodycon dress, very versatile, and suitable for going out or participating in any occasion.

In the end, you need to select the dress that suits you: each bodycon dress has many styles and colors; you can choose the dress that suits you according to your figure, which can better help you enhance your figure and enhance your self-confidence.

Confidence is key when wearing a bodycon dress. No matter your size or shape, if you feel good about what you wear, you will look good too. Experiment with different styles, colors and accessories until you find a look that feels comfortable and stylish for you to create the stylish look you want. You can try, something like：

[solarmorrigan]

A little scribble of something I wrote a while ago on the theme of Newt experiencing long-term side effects from his solo drift. Mostly just some newmann hurt/comfort, to be honest. Probably don’t read this if you have actual medical knowledge or it might give you a migraine, because I just made shit up wholesale

-

The headache starts behind his left eye.

They don’t always. Sometimes they start in his temples, or in the base of his skull.

This one does, though – starts as a sharp starburst of pain just behind his left eye, that is.

Newt is supposed to pay attention to those headaches in particular, but he’s busy right now, and doesn’t want to yield to the pain. Does every headache have to be a warning sign? Maybe this one is just a regular headache, after all. Could be stress, or tension, or his sinuses.

Could be anything.

Anyway, Newt is enjoying his afternoon off, so aside from the initial flinch at the onset, he keeps right on doing what he’s doing – songs don’t write themselves, after all.

(His dreams of starting another band after the war kind of didn’t go anywhere, since he didn’t really know many people who both could play an instrument and wanted to join a band just then, and finding some randos to do it with like he had in college is harder when you’re kind of like a minor celebrity. There is, however, a great niche on the internet for people with vast knowledge on obscure topics and a weird sense of humor who want to sing songs, and Newt is greatly enjoying filling that niche.)

Sure, the headache is a distraction, but Newt has worked through worse. He’d gone back to work once almost immediately after dropping something incredibly heavy on his foot, and then, in spite of the fact it had apparently been broken, he’d continued to show up to work and stand on said foot for about two days after that (until Hermann had caught sight of the bruises when Newt had pulled his boot off to check one afternoon, had called him a hazard to society, and sicced medical on him). He can work through a headache.

But the pain keeps building, until it’s less a distraction and more a hinderance, and by the time Newt realizes he probably should be paying attention, his nose has begun to run, the first drip sliding out so fast that he doesn’t have time to catch it.

It splashes red onto the middle C of his keyboard, and Newt swears.

He scrambles out of his chair and reaches for the nearest tissue box, grabbing a fistful and trying to press them to his nose before he ruins his shirt, or something equally tragic.

“Son of a bitch,” Newt hisses, catching himself on the edge of his desk as he stumbles.

Now that he’s standing, he feels unbalanced and weightless and hot, and he knows his next stop is going to be the medicine cabinet for the thermometer.

Newt shuffles his way down the hall to the bathroom, glances at his reflection (eyes look normal, at least), and then takes his temperature. It’s a little frustrating to manage while still trying to stem the sluggish drip of blood coming from one nostril, but he gets solid normal level reading, anyway. He isn’t surprised; fevers aren’t common, but they’re on the laundry list of symptoms he’s been told to look out for.

He pops some Tylenol and then checks his nose. Maybe if it stops before Hermann gets home–

Nope, never mind, there’s the front door.

Of course Hermann picks today to be on time, rather than being distracted by extra work.

Newt can hear Hermann put down his cane, hang up his jacket, then pick up his cane again (he always bumps the handle on the edge of the hall table), and then he’s coming down the hall. There’s no point in trying to hide; Newt’s left the door ajar and Hermann is going to walk right past.

“Newton?” Hermann peers cautiously around the doorjamb, then comes fully into the doorway.

“Heeey, welcome home,” Newt greets dryly, still a little nasally with the wad of tissues pressed to his nose.

Hermann’s mouth thins into an impressively displeased line. “This is the second time this month.”

Newt snorts reflexively, grimacing when this results in an extra gush of blood into the tissues. “Thanks, Hermann, I couldn’t possibly keep track without you.”

Hermann remains displeased. “Have you checked–”

“Yes, I checked my temperature, I took some stuff, and as soon as my brain stops leaking out my nose, I’ll go lay down, okay?” Newt huffs.

“Don’t joke, Newton,” Hermann snaps. “It is important to track your symptoms so we can report them to the neurologist. One more migraine this month and…”

“Yeah, yeah, win a free trip back to the doctor, I’m not that brain damaged,” Newt snaps right back. “I just don’t get why you can’t come in and ask ‘hey, honey, how was your day before your head threatened to explode?’. Is that so hard?”

Hermann draws himself up, as if he really needs to emphasize that he’s taller than Newt. “I refuse to apologize for being concerned about your health.”

“Well, I refuse to apologize for not wanting this to define my whole day.”

Usually, Newt would be yelling right now, but he’s lightheaded and tired and he doesn’t feel outraged enough to muster up the energy. Instead, he and Hermann just stare at each other until another spike of pain hits behind Newt’s eye and he winces into losing the contest.

Hermann’s face softens and his free hand twitches towards Newt. “Would you… like some ice, for your head?”

“Yeah,” Newt sighs, checking his nose again to see if the bleeding has finally stopped. “That’d be great.”

“I’ll get you some.” Hermann nods, as resolute as if Newt has sent him after the Holy Grail. It’s adorable; Newt can’t help but smile at him.

Somehow, shortly after that, they both end up in bed, the room dim and cool, with Newt draped across Hermann’s good side and a banket pulled up to their waists (Newt’s temperature may be normal, but he feels hot, and he figures he can just keep Hermann warm).

“They’ve never found anything,” Newt says quietly, his jaw working against Hermann’s chest. “And I don’t think they’re going to. These are just migraines, Hermann.”

“I try to tell myself that, but every time you get an attack…” Newt always has to stifle a reaction to calling his headaches that – nearly two years after closing the breach and he’s still getting his own personal kaiju attacks, “I can’t help but remember the reason for them. And I can’t help but worry.”

They’ve been down this road before; Newt won’t apologize for that first Drift – it had helped save the world (and the guilt he feels for the way Hermann had had to find him, seizing and insensible on the floor, makes him defensive, makes him say sharp things he doesn’t mean), so he moves on.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine. I’d be even more fine if I didn’t have to keep dragging ass all the way down to the neurologist every few months,” he tries to joke.

Hermann’s hand tightens over Newt’s where they’re resting joined on his belly. “I need physical proof that you’re alright, Newton,” he says, quiet and firm. “If anything were to happen to you, and if something could have been done…”

“Yeah,” Newt rasps, closing his eyes to the shade of the room, “I know.”

He knows how he would feel, if their roles were reversed. Hell, he would probably be pestering Hermann to let him run tests of his own, just for his peace of mind.

And when it comes down to it, Newt knows he’s going to sit his ass down for whatever scans or tests or samples are demanded of him. He’ll get the all-clear back from the doctor, and he’ll wave it at Hermann and say, “I told you so”, but he’ll do it all again next time, every time, if that’s what it takes.

If nothing else, he can give Hermann that.

[ironwoman359]

F for the fanfic ask game? (F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.)

Let's go with a more recent fic for this one, my Six of Crows fic They're Only Children.

---

“The truth is, your husband owed similar amounts to all the gambling halls on the East stave. A thousand kruge here, three thousand there, and so on.” Brekker’s grip on his cane tightened, and his brow furrowed slightly as he continued. “Pekka Rollins purchased the debts wholesale from all the other lenders your husband owed.” 

“Except for you,” Ester noted. 

“He tried,” Brekker said. “The Crow Club turned him down.”

“Why?”

“Rollins offered to buy your indenture to pay off the debt, isn’t that right?” he asked, ignoring her question. Ester grimaced, glancing back at the envelope on her table, its green seal glinting in the lamplight, taunting her. 

“Not mine,” she admitted. “Rollins said he doesn’t have any use for someone like me. But my little girl…Myra…” she swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

“I’m familiar with the terms he uses for his contracts,” said Brekker. “The wages he offers won’t match the rate at which the debt will accrue interest. If you take his deal, she’ll be tied to him for the rest of her life.” 

“I know that,” Ester snapped. The last thing she needed right now was a child lecturing her on financials, Bastard of the Barrel or not. “But it’s either take his deal and see my daughter sent to his Sweet Shop or be arrested for delinquency and see my daughter turned out onto the streets.”  

“Or, a third option,” Brekker said, pulling out another envelope from his jacket and handing it to her. 

---

The reason I love this so much is it combines exposition and character development in what I think is a really neat and efficient way. This is the first chapter, it's setting up the premise of the story, (which is that Ester, a middle aged woman with children of her own, becomes a housekeeper at the Slat and mother hens the Crows throughout the plot of the duology), explaining why Ester would agree to work for Kaz and why Kaz would pick her, of all people, to work at the Slat, but it also sets up their entire relationship dynamic for the whole story that I have in my head: Bastard of the Barrel (aka Teenage Boy Tm) who does his best to play up the barrel boss act against the One Person who he can't properly fool, A Mother of Teenagers. Also, Kaz's dialogue is just fun to write, he's so dramatic and pleased with himself all the time, it's great!

Your sentence is: "I don’t even know how to begin sorting through everything in my head.”

send me a writer ask, but I can't answer it until I've written one new sentence! (and you get to see the senten

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[leam1983]

Microsoft and Project Pluto

I've been doing some digging around Microsoft's future plans, seeing how more or less astroturfing several manufacturers into releasing TPM 2.0-compliant potatoes that can barely run Windows 11 seems to have gone over well.

Welp, their long-term goal is to lock down AMD and Intel-based compliant systems to be forced to execute and sign on Microsoft code alone. As in, no bootloader, no Linux, no picking the most lightweight option for your server stack if you're in IT professionally - Windows or bust. Installing Linux on machines like this would force hardware devs to issue the proper certs on their own, instead of working like they have for the past twenty or so years and just close their eyes, agree to a standard - usually Microsoft's - and hit Go. There's also talks to tie Windows Update with your system kernel, which means that in practice, the House that Gates Built could steal a page from Ubuntu and find a way to issue kernel revisions while the OS is still running. It's also possible that they could use that to push non-mandatory, but recommended updates onto you, potentially undoing previously-used features or maybe bricking your rig, depending on your hardware setup.

Seeing how Satya Nadella's response to entry-tier hardware barely managing to run Windows 11 as their stock OS was to basically shrug and go "Welp, just go buy a nicer PC! Here's a list of affiliates!", I think we can fear the worst.

If it really falls down to motherboard or chip manufacturers not taking whatever payola M$ might hit them with, we're effectively screwed. We've known for years, now, that Microsoft wants to lock down the PC ecosystem to something closer to Apple's own walled garden. Their stated pretense is usually added security at the corporate level, but I'm really dreading the future of what's both my job and my hobby if it all boils down to me choosing a locked-down box with an apple-shaped logo or a locked-down box with four squares on it.

Windows worming its way into my firmware's microcode.

The very thought makes me queasy. Oh, and all the normies are going to settle with an eye-roll and a sigh, of course. I've heard it all before. "They're making computers easier to use, isn't that a good thing?! Whatever man, you'll whine and bitch and then load up Steam to benchmark things as usual, so why the Hell do you care that much?"

This isn't about ease of use. This is about control. I own every screw, every chip, every via and fan blade in my two rigs. I own them. The data that's on them is also mine, within reason.

If Microsoft has its way, we'll all be subletting our ability to do our damn jobs, as fucking dystopian as it seems. How the fuck do you think sysadmins at the corporate level are going to take to someone at Microsoft pushing a revision on Windows 12 or whatever, and settling with a pithy apology for all the late-in-cycle computer parks and IT budgets they've just ruined? Fuck, my boss practically has a panic attack whenever one of the kids in the call centre fucks up a headset or a mouse pad; I can't imagine how she'll take to repeated wholesale overhauls of our workstations because someone at Redmond decided to shorten the shelf life of a perfectly good product!

One of the top dogs came up to me a few days back and started joshing around. "But seriously man, why are you making us use Linux, bro? Like, everyone knows Windows!"

I smiled. "You're running off of a reskinned Ubuntu MATE, Steve, because if I asked you to buy me ten thou's worth of Windows 11 licenses and then told you we'll need to add new hardware to make 'em run, you'd rip my badge from my jacket, piss in my trash can and send me home without so much as a please and a thank you. Using my method, all you had to deal with was one afternoon's worth of file migrations and budget enough for eight PowerPoint slides, a twenty-minute break and some extra coffee, to train everyone."

Sometimes, small-to-medium business heads can be absolute idiots.

[conceptualpost]

Chapter 2: Fiction Chapter Text It was the winter of 1993, so cold that people could not live without coal stoves. Engineer Lao Jiang from the Geological Bureau was on a business trip. He was careless on the ice and broke his leg. He stayed in the hospital for half a month. When he came back, he announced that he would marry the female nurse in the ward. The female nurse was from Hebei, thirty years old, and the word "smart" was almost written on her forehead. Jiang worked away from home all year round. His wife died early. There was only one eldest son and two younger sisters at home. Now suddenly there was a stepmother who was the same age as them. None of the three children could adapt.

After arguing with his father all night, Jiang Ming simply applied for a dormitory at the factory and moved out of the alley. He would rather rent a room with a stranger than get angry with his father at home. The sisters did not object. They always put their brother before their father. Just like that, Jiang Ming arrived at his new home on a windy day, carrying his bed and a suitcase.

Another family in the unit was named Ke Xiangying. Many Tianjin people have names related to water, such as Bo and Tao, but the head of the family could pick out the word Ying, which shows that he was not a factory worker after graduating from high school. Ke Xiangying had also lived in for only two days. This was originally the house of his childhood friend. His childhood friend went out to do wholesale business and made a fortune. Naturally, he would not live in a tube building anymore, so he simply sublet the factory house to him. Of course, if you look closely at this matter, it seems that it may not be in accordance with the rules, but who can blame Ke Xiangying for being a relative?

His childhood friend was a slacker (even a decent person would not run out of the factory to wholesale hairtail at this time). He did not take good care of the house at all. There were problems everywhere, water seepage, wind leakage, peeling wall paint, and even the gate was stuck. Ke Xiangying was poking the key in the house when he suddenly heard footsteps and stopped outside the door. Ke Xiangying held his breath and put his ear against the door, in the same position as his mother did when she listened to the quarrel between the party secretary and his wife in the factory. He heard something fiddling with the door lock, and then a man muttered to himself, "Hmm? What's wrong with you? Why don't you move?"

It was a very magnetic male voice, like a steel pipe hitting a pair of pliers, "Is anyone in the room? Please open the door, I'm your new neighbor."

Ke Xiangying touched his face and thought, it's worthy of being a building, the heating is really good, otherwise why is it so hot.

"Neighbor, are you there? My name is Jiang Ming, and I'm from the electrician class of the motor workshop of the locomotive factory."

Ke Xiangying came to his senses and quickly took out the key to pull the door. Before it was opened, he said hesitantly: "This door is a bit blocked, please push it hard."

With a bang, the door was pushed open, and a handsome young man walked in. He was 1.8 meters tall, with thick eyebrows and big eyes, a high nose bridge, wearing a leather jacket with a fur collar, and a sky blue helmet on his head.

"I thought you thought I was a blind drifter. It's the end of the year, and I have a strong sense of safety. You didn't open it. Is it that the door is broken?"

"There is really something wrong with this broken door," he suddenly felt funny, "No wonder you still introduced yourself. If I don't say anything, will you even report your birthday and work number?" After Ke Xiangying finished speaking, he suddenly felt that his words were a bit of a squeeze, just like the matchmaker spitting at Zhang Sheng in the play. His face turned even redder, and he laughed and closed his mouth.

Jiang Ming didn't care. He put down his suitcase and held out his hand. "My name is Jiang Ming. I need your help in the future."

Ke Xiangying also stretched out his hand and shook his. He felt the thick calluses scraping across his palm. "Jiang Ming? Your name is really good. It sounds like a poem. My name is Ke Xiangying. Xiang means "Xiang" and Ying means "Climbing Yinglou". I don't work in our locomotive factory. I'm just a newspaper editor in the trade union."

"Okay, you are from the Workers' Evening News? Intellectuals, I will learn more from you in the future."

"No, no, I want to learn more from the workers." Ke Xiangying felt that the other party's hand was tightened, as if he really thought that intellectuals who write are pretty good.

Jiang Ming pushed the door and entered the room to put down his suitcase and bedding. He took out a small leather bag with a clang. Ke Xiangying asked what you were doing? I'm really sorry. The kitchen and bathroom haven't been cleaned up yet. I didn't have time to repair many places. After saying that, he quickly added that I had only lived here for two days.

Jiang Ming raised the briefcase in his hand and said, "It's okay, you stay still. Living with me, what else can be broken in our house? Look at this door, I'll fix it now." As he said that, he pulled the zipper and opened the briefcase. There was a row of tools inside, screwdrivers, wrenches, clips, hammers, files… He fiddled with the lock and seemed to be about to start working.

Ke Xiangying was a little curious. Although his family was also in the factory, he was a cadre after all, and Mrs. Ke spoiled her youngest son too much. As a result, Ke Xiangying grew up in vain. He graduated from college and still couldn't do any work. He thought that we were all neighbors, and he couldn't lie down while others worked, so he simply went to the house to open a bag of glutinous rice noodles, brewed a pot of strong tea, and brought it over. He also pulled a small stool and sat down to watch Jiang Ming fix the lock.

There was nothing wrong with the lock itself. It was just that the wood was old and slightly rotten, the lock was crooked, and the lock tongue and the groove could not fit together. While repairing the lock, Jiang Ming ate Jiangmi noodles and chatted with Ke Xiangying. In a short while, he got all of Ke Xiangying's family background. He was a student of the Chinese Department of X University in 1988. His father was the old Ke in the factory. He worked as an editor in a newspaper and had no boyfriend yet.

"How many girls would miss you like this?" Jiang Ming screwed the screws and glanced at Ke Xiangying. He had red lips, white teeth, and a pair of fox eyes. He looked like a pretty boy. "You still don't have a boyfriend?"

Ke Xiangying was speechless for a long time before he said, "That's it… I don't have a boyfriend."

"My girlfriend is a salesperson in a department store. Let's have dinner together when we get back. Her colleagues are all very handsome."

Ke Xiangying didn't have much enthusiasm, but he still agreed.

After repairing the lock, Ke Xiangying said it was late, so why not go out for dinner together to celebrate the move. Jiang Ming nodded, thought about it, and said let's go for shabu-shabu.

When Ke Xiangying got downstairs, he was about to ride his bicycle. Jiang Ming stopped him and patted a big blue motorcycle with a shiny long exhaust pipe and brand new electroplated paint. It must be a Jincheng Suzuki. "Come on up. Riding a bicycle is so slow." Ke Xiangying was secretly surprised. He knew that his colleague Xiao Wang had always been jealous of these two motorcycles. He looked through the advertisements in the office every day. Sometimes he said that the sound of the engine was like "the laughter of a girl like a silver bell", and sometimes he said that the sound of the exhaust pipe was like "the bright clarinet in the band". But for more than 7,000 yuan, Xiao Wang's wife said that she would have no motorcycle if she was there. "You still don't understand how good it is to be single," Ke Xiangying thought to himself.

The car accelerated very quickly, and the cold wind blew on his face and knees. Ke Xiangying couldn't help but hug Jiang Ming from behind. The young worker had a broad back and was very comfortable to hug, but Ke Xiangying's teeth were still chattering from the cold. The mutton hotpot shop was not far away. Ke Xiangying jumped off almost before the car stopped, hugging his arms and rubbing them up and down. Jiang Ming parked the car, and he was amused when he saw him. He came over and held Ke Xiangying's arm, "Wearing a woolen coat in the middle of winter? Let's go, it won't be cold inside."

"I'm not being conceited," Ke Xiangying couldn't help but retort, "It won't be so cold when you ride a bicycle."

Jiang Ming patted his shoulder with a smile, as if to say, come on, young man. Ke Xiangying complained in his heart, you're still wearing a leather jacket, if you're really afraid of the cold, why don't you wear a cotton jacket? It's because you think it doesn't look good.

After entering, they chose a seat by the window, and the waiter quickly brought the copper stove and poured water. Jiang Ming handed the menu to Ke Xiangying. Ke Xiangying was still a little angry, and he didn't say anything polite. He ordered a bunch of fat sheep and fat beef, and ordered half a dozen sesame cakes, and then asked Jiang Ming hypocritically what vegetables he wanted to eat. Jiang Ming exchanged glances with him, which was the unique look of people who hate eating vegetables in hot pot restaurants. In the steaming mist, the two people suddenly understood in their hearts - we want to eat meat. "Then let's order another dish of Chinese cabbage, and open two bottles of Qingdao first, what do you think?"

Jiang Ming nodded, and as soon as the waiter left, he couldn't wait to speak: "That's right, we are not like some people who want mushrooms and lotus root slices, and they are so hesitant, how can we enjoy it? Come to this restaurant, I tell you, just want to eat mutton, look at their meat, the marbled meat is so good."

"Yes, I have heard of this restaurant a long time ago, look, it's still the old cloisonné stove, how can we eat those miscellaneous things, it's not good for the stove."

"You like it too?"

Ke Xiangying raised his chin, "Don't tell me, I am a little picky about this."

Jiang Ming said with a smile: "Then let's be 'pickly' together in the future."

After eating a few plates of meat and drinking wine, the two of them talked about the Japanese production line introduced into the factory, the tractor factory that was said to be going bankrupt recently, and the seemingly endless housing allocation back to Jiang Ming's motorcycle. "You are really bold. This car is expensive."

"Compared to a bicycle, this motorcycle is more fun to drive. I also mainly look at its good engine, the one-way valve in the cylinder, and the electronic ignition. Its ignition coil is different from others…"

"Stop, stop. I studied Chinese and can't understand what you said. I mean, this car is so expensive, are you willing to buy it? Don't you save money to start a family?"

Jiang Ming tilted his head and thought for a while, then picked a piece of meat from the pot, "It's vulgar to say that. This is the 1990s. People fall in love and get together. It's that simple."

Ke Xiangying couldn't help but say: "Refrigerator, color TV, laundry Where is the opportunity? Although I am two years younger than you, I know that girls nowadays are realistic. "

"No, nowadays people's minds have been liberated, and there are all kinds of love in society. I saw it in the newspaper the day before yesterday, and it was called the 'era of pursuing freedom'."

"Then didn't you turn another page of the newspaper? It also said that it would be 'left to the market to regulate' in the future. Isn't marriage and love a market behavior? Wait and see, by then, you will be passive. "Ke Xiangying said, he began to worry. Through the steaming heat, he looked at Jiang Ming. This is such a handsome guy, why is he so stupid?

Jiang Ming drank the last bit of beer in one gulp and said nonchalantly: "Don't worry, the country said that the whole nation should strive for a well-off life, isn't it just the three major items? I guess I can make it back next year."

After paying the bill and walking out of the hot restaurant, Ke Xiangying immediately shuddered. He was about to shiver again, but suddenly his head sank and a helmet appeared on it, covering his ears. It was warm and the wind noise in the cold night was reduced. Jiang Ming seemed to know that the helmet was soundproof, so he leaned over and whispered in Ke Xiangying's ear: "Wear mine to avoid freezing."

Ke Xiangying hurriedly said no, no, then what would you do? Jiang Ming waved his hand and said, "Isn't it the old saying that a silly boy sleeps on a cold kang, all because of his strong firepower."