#Inflatable Marquee

[mountainshade]

Elevate Your Outdoor Events with Custom Printed Pop-Up Gazebos and Marquees

Organizing outdoor events can be an exciting endeavor, but it also requires careful planning to ensure everything goes smoothly. One key element that can enhance both the functionality and aesthetic appeal of your outdoor gatherings is a pop-up gazebo or marquee. These versatile structures provide shelter from the elements while offering an excellent opportunity to promote your brand or event through custom printing.

Pop-Up Gazebos: Convenience and Versatility

Pop-up gazebos are a fantastic addition to any outdoor event due to their convenience and ease of setup. Whether you're hosting a market stall, a community fair, a sports event, or a promotional campaign, a pop up gazebo provides a quick and reliable shelter solution. Their collapsible design ensures that they can be set up within minutes, saving you valuable time and effort.

Folding Gazebos: Space-Efficient Solution

Folding gazebos are the epitome of space efficiency. Their compact design when folded makes transportation and storage hassle-free. When you're ready to set up, these gazebos quickly transform into a spacious and welcoming shelter, creating an inviting space for attendees, customers, or participants. Folding gazebo are an excellent choice for smaller events or locations where space is limited.

Pop-Up Marquees: Stylish and Functional

Pop-up marquees take the concept of gazebos to the next level. With their larger size and robust structure, they are perfect for events that require more space, such as exhibitions, trade shows, and corporate gatherings. Pop up marquee offer ample room for displays, product showcases, and seating areas. They also come with the added benefit of customizable printing, allowing you to promote your brand or event in a visually striking manner.

Printed Marquees: Making Your Mark

Printed marquees provide a canvas to showcase your brand identity, event theme, or promotional message. Imagine your logo, colors, and graphics adorning the roof and walls of your marquee, instantly grabbing the attention of passersby. Whether it's a business event, a fundraiser, or a sports competition, printed marquees ensure that your presence is noticed and remembered.

Custom Printed Marquees: Tailored to Your Vision

Customization is key to standing out in a sea of outdoor setups. Custom printed marquee allow you to tailor every aspect of your gazebo, from the canopy to the walls, to align with your branding or event theme. This level of personalization creates a cohesive and professional look that leaves a lasting impression on attendees. Custom printed marquees are a valuable investment for businesses and organizations looking to enhance their visibility and reputation.

Printed Branded Marquee Supplier: Your Partner in Success

Choosing the right supplier for your printed branded marquee is crucial. Look for suppliers that offer high-quality materials, durable construction, and advanced printing techniques to ensure that your marquee not only looks great but also withstands various weather conditions. A reliable supplier should also offer design assistance to help you create a visually appealing and impactful custom design that resonates with your audience.

Printed Marquee Heavy Duty: Durability in Challenging Conditions

If you're hosting events in locations with unpredictable weather or if your events involve heavy foot traffic, a heavy-duty printed marquee is your best bet. These marquees are built to withstand more challenging conditions while maintaining their visual appeal. Their sturdy construction ensures that your brand message remains prominent and professional even in adverse circumstances.

Create a Lasting Impression

In the world of outdoor events, pop-up gazebos and printed marquees play a pivotal role in creating a welcoming and branded space. Whether you're showcasing products, raising awareness for a cause, or simply creating a comfortable gathering spot, these structures offer both functional benefits and a chance to leave a lasting impression. Invest in a high-quality custom printed gazebo or marquee and elevate your outdoor events to a new level of professionalism and visual impact.

[popupparties01]

Your ultimate guide for wedding marquee decoration

Marquee weddings are becoming quite popular in present times and there are many good reasons to choose them. Tents or marquees are highly affordable, and they can be customized as per the events. With inflatable marquee hires, you can also plan your wedding without being harsh on your wallet. Read on and find out about ideas that can add to your wedding marquee decoration. Also, if you want to hire a marquee, you can get it from Popup Parties, a trusted name among those who offer tents for rent.   

Wedding marquee decoration ideas  

Let's have a close look at some of the ideas that you can consider for wedding marquee decoration:  

Decoration covering most of the space  

Most wedding marquees are large and have a lot of space to accommodate guests. Small decoration setups cannot work because empty spaces will affect the overall look of the venue. The smaller ones can affect your budget too. To avoid it, you can get large-size decoration items including vases, jars, large balloon garlands, and lanterns. They are affordable and can easily cover large spaces.  

Using lighting to create an impact  

Another decoration idea that can be an affordable game-changer for you is your lighting setup. You can experiment with festoon, fairy, and Christmas lights to decorate your wedding marquee. Some lenders have a pre-designed lighting setup, and you can also make additional changes as per your wedding theme.  Popup Parties have marquees that have an in-built lighting setup, and you don’t need to spend any additional amount for lights.  

Consider foliage instead of expensive flowers  

Gifting an expensive flower bouquet to a loved one is good but decorating a large wedding marquee with such flowers is a tough-on-pocket deal. Using foliage instead of expensive flowers can make your setup look beautiful.  You can also add a few flower arrangements if your budget allows you. For foliage decors, you can get help from DIY tutorials that give affordable decoration ideas.  

Arrange a photo display setup  

The precious life moments caught on camera are worth cherishing and sharing. You can implement this by having a stall displaying all those memorable pictures of you and your partner. Also, you can add pictures of family and friends who are there for you on your special day.  

Choosing the right marquee for hire  

With many inflatable marquees hire options, you can easily plan your wedding. It is important to choose a marquee that is large enough to cooperate with your guest list and is made of weatherproof material. Marquees from Popup Parties have all the right marquees which are easy to set up and can be a perfect choice for affordable weddings. They also offer lighting setup, dancing stages, and VIP areas to ensure that your special day becomes memorable. Visit their website now and enquire about durable, affordable, and appealing marquees. You can also customize it according to your occasion.  

[motherofagony]

FIRE WALK - one shot

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: au, no outbreak!joel x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni word count: 6.5k summary: a chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), very brief references to past non-con encounters (not with joel, no details just shitty men in general), soft!joel, alcohol, mentions of family trauma and ab*se, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), A Scene With a Belt™, slight mentions of reader's clothing but no physical descriptions otherwise, love as consumption and women as fruit a/n: this was a brain-worm of a one shot, so i had to press pause on AHFE and get it out. consider it a dirty love letter to strangers with stories in shitty motels. and i have to give the biggest thank-you to @iamskyereads for stepping in and offering to be my beta reader in the final hour. she was so unbelievably thorough and thoughtful and kind. i owe you big.

New-age boogeymen hang two-way mirrors and jiggle motel door handles with broken hangers.

That’s what the news says.

August licks an unforgiving line of heat up your back, and cutoff denim and halter tops do nothing but give the sun more skin to burn. 

It’s sweltering, brutal as an Arizona summer is, and The Palms Motel promises a pool and a mini bar on their dirty marquee. You’ll take what you can get, can’t really afford to be picky with fifty dollars in your pocket, but at least maybe you’ll live like royalty tonight.

Some guy you met — Tom, Tim, Jim, whoever — pulls his convertible up to the front office. Your knees knock together over the speed bump, cartilage kissing bone.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come close to a chauffeur, but the chauffeur you see in movies doesn’t usually take liberties with trying to work his grease-speckled mechanic hand up the passenger’s shirt.

You met him at a gas station in Tucson, thumbing your way from northern Texas to put as much distance between you and your whiskey-breathed dad as you could. He’d torn your clothes apart at the seams with his eyes when he spotted you in the parking lot, swimming in blood-infested waters with sharp, sharp teeth.

There was no plan, no directions penned and cities circled on a folded map, just glass in your hair and a final straw.

He asked if you could buy him some booze — revoked license, baby, y’know how that goes — and you shouldn’t have, but when he flashed a leather wallet thick with cash, you knew you’d be stupid not to.

You hid behind a shelf inside the gas station while he idled in the parking lot and plucked a fifty from the wad, stuffing it deep in your bag. You grabbed some shitty malt-something from a fridge along with a 6-pack, flashing the slack-jawed cashier a wink. 

He didn’t try to hide the eye contact with your tits, but neither do most men. Sometimes you milk it in your favor, sometimes it just makes your lunch rise to the back of your throat.

And when you’re by yourself, it’s hot iron, ready to strike. A doe in their headlights, a buck with a nice rack. Skipping through the center of their bullseye.

You bought a little palm-sized bottle for yourself and tucked it safely next to the stolen cash in the abyss of your purse. These tiny cons got you by, made power surge deep in your belly. It made loneliness feel worth it, knowing you had an upper hand to lean on if you were ever in a bind.

He bitched about inflation when you came out with less than was reasonable for the amount you spent, and you just shrugged. Not your cash, not your problem. 

You bartered for a ride to the nearest motel, and now Tom-Tim-Jim is asking you over the purr of the engine if you need company for the night.

If you were feeling a little more you, you might’ve taken him up on it. Maybe he would’ve even paid for the room, maybe he wouldn’t get angry like your dad does. Maybe he’d be able to fuck you without hitting you.

You’re good at diffusing the temper in most men, can touch them in ways that make them grit their teeth, can be a good girl and go fetch.

But you’re not in the mood to bend, to give someone’s son — someone’s husband with a tan line around their ring finger — a place to wipe their shoes on. You don’t feel like wiping their dirt, your mascara from your eyes and saying thank you while they zip up their pants.

And you sure as fuck don’t fancy being on a milk carton.

“I’m alright, sugar. Thanks for the ride,” you say, dipping your chin to peer over your sunglasses. “I know where to find you, don’t worry.”

Yeah fuckin’ right.

He doesn’t try to conceal his disappointment, just sucks his teeth and squeezes at the exposed skin of your thigh. His way of saying goodbye to something he could’ve dripped sweat on, came in too early. You think your flesh might rot off in chunks. 

You open the door and swing your legs out in a way that’s a little too eager.

Tom-Tim-Jim waves solemnly with two fingers up and two bent, and then he’s gone in an aggressive rev.

The motel might’ve been a kitschy dream in its heyday. It’s not a total dump; more of a vintage skeleton of washed-out pink and umbrellas that’ve been ripped by weather and overuse. There are a million faded emblems of cartoonish palm trees. It’s almost endearing how tragic it is.

You can tell that it was popular and swarming with tourists at one time — there are dusty, water-stained pamphlets lining the wall next to the front desk that brag Named one of Arizona’s top destinations in 1996!

A mounted fan whirs and oscillates, but it might as well be someone blowing hot breath down your neck. 

There’s a tired woman holding down the fort at the desk with a name tag that claims Brenda, and she looks surprised to see you. You figure most customers are stopping in for a night’s rest on the way to somewhere more important, their final destination. But you don’t look like you have anywhere better to be.

“Hey, honey,” Brenda trickles, laced with an accent that’s more New Orleans than Arizona. “Need a room?”

“Yeah, just for the night,” you say, fishing out your wallet with confidence that doesn’t meet your eyes. “How much?”

“Forty-five a night, ‘less you wanna upgrade to the honeymoon suite.” She looks somewhere over your shoulder.

That’s nearly everything you have, but it sounds a lot like tomorrow’s problem. At least you’ll be safe tonight from the prowling stares of nighttime predators, and the leftover change will give you a decent vending machine dinner.

“Just a normal room’s fine,” you smile, sliding over the crumpled, stolen fifty.

Brenda types busily on the keyboard, asking for your name but nothing else. And when she hands you a plastic keycard, you finally relax your shoulders. Untangle the nerves in your lower back that are choking one another.

Room 17, it reads. Your oasis awaits!

You thank her, spin on your heel, and immediately bump chest to chest with something hard.

You’re eye level with a worn, cornflower blue t-shirt, ringed with a light stain of sweat at the collar. They’re grasping both of your arms to steady you, and you’re snagging the gaze of a tousled man with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” he murmurs, but it isn’t reprimanding or mean like you’re used to, just sickly sweet and Texan. Syrupy in a way that drips right down between your legs.

You don’t remember seeing anyone else in the lot when you’d pulled up. And the stealth of him entering soundlessly behind you sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, the clench of something that would be fear if it were any other stranger.

But he doesn’t look at you with intent to devour or to claim. Just eyes you like you’re anyone else. An equal. The bare minimum, but rare and shiny nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and he’s releasing you a little too quickly for your liking. Leaving brands on the creases of where your forearms meet upper and elbow.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

So you don’t.

You brush past him on the way out, a polite nod. And that’s that. 

The heat is the kind that feels hotter, unbearable when paired with the shrill sing of cicadas. An endless buzzing that you think might be the sun sizzling on the concrete. If you stood in one place for too long, your flip flops might very well melt you in place.

Your room key clicks to unlock Room 17, and you push the door open to a heavy, humid space that smells vaguely of mold. You’re so grateful for the privacy that you can’t even bring yourself to wrinkle your nose.

Flip flops discarded, your toes sink into shag carpet — a dirty luxury that makes you moan. It’s only been two days since you left home, fled home, but it beats sleeping with one eye open on a bus stop bench.

You up-end your leather bag, dumping all of its contents onto the bed. Cigarettes, some loose film canisters, your toothbrush, a lighter. There wasn’t much time to pack, nothing worth bringing, and the less, the better. Nothing to weigh you down if you had to dip at a moment’s notice.

It takes you only a couple minutes and a light sheen of sweat to realize that the A/C is busted. Smothered, you try to crack open a window in the bathroom, but it’s no cooler than the hell you’re standing in.

When you let Brenda know, she just shrugs with an apologetic kind of half-smile.

“Most of ‘em are out these days, honey,” she says, and you decide then that it’s a small price to pay. “We got someone comin’ to look at it next week.”

You shoot her a smile, figure that she’s had enough rotten backtalk in her day. You scoop a set of flamingo-themed matches from the bowl on the counter and turn around, only to see a familiar blue shirt waiting his turn.

His eyes try not to roam, but he’s giving you a nod and stepping up without hesitation, asking Brenda for extra towels.

The way that she titters and blushes, you’d think he’d asked if he could spit in her mouth.

It irritates you, and you can’t say why.

The door chimes behind you as it closes, and you linger, striking a match and lighting a cigarette. When he emerges, a stack of towels so high it’s hitting his chin, you step in stride on the walk back. Tracing his footsteps, catching up with his shadow.

“You followin’ me?” you quip, a cigarette dangling from your mouth. The cherry ignites on every breath, smoke erupting in tendrils that hug each word.

He answers with a laugh, turns and squints back at you with one eye. Almost as if he was expecting you to ask.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Could say the same to you.”

You stop in front of 17, hand over your brow to shield from the sun that’s winding its way down, getting ready to tuck itself in for the night. There’s nothing that touches your tongue that doesn’t sound exactly like a fuck yes. So you don’t say anything.

“Enjoy your sauna,” he chuckles over his shoulder, passing you with his towels on the way to Room 20.

—

Led Zeppelin filters out through the radio, half-static, half-electric. Your legs are crossed in the air behind you, and you’re posted up face down on the bed, kicking along to the beat while you flip through whatever Cosmopolitan someone left behind in a drawer.

Someone raps a few times on the door, and if it’s a repairman, they’re getting their fucking dick sucked.

You army-roll off the flowery duvet, abandoning a how-to on finding your g-spot, and you peer through the peephole.

Your breath hitches on a soft swear.

When you open the door, you see Blue T-Shirt standing there, skin creasing around his eyes slyly. An unopened beer hangs and swings from his restless fingers. He offers it up wordlessly, the butt of it pointed at you.

It’s ice-cold and slippery to the touch, erupting goosebumps on your forearm. Saliva coats your tongue, and you don’t think it’s the thirst for alcohol, but maybe the tall drink of water. 

“Um… thanks?”

“Figured you’d either be dead by now or parched,” he says smugly, and it’s velvet to your ears.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. I got the fan to work at least,” you mutter, jerking your thumb vaguely behind you.

“Listen, uh —”

He’s rubbing the nape of his neck, and you catch the way the network of muscles flex from his elbow to the seam of his armpit. He looks like he’s in pain, struggling with the fit of a puzzle piece into something rough and jagged.

Something he shouldn’t be trying but has to see it through, exhaust it until it’s definite one way or the other.

You just squint, sucking in the corner of your lip between your teeth. You nearly grin, but it’s much more fun to watch than to connect the dots for him.

“A/C works in my room, so ‘f you wanted to… y’know,” he trails off, not even sure in his own offer. “No pressure. It’s hot as hell outside, don’t want you t’get heat stroke ‘f I can help it.”

This kind of approval you like. This kind that sizzles girl-honey between your legs, winning it from a man that’s playing to earn, not to cheat.

“I try not to make a habit out of going into motel rooms of guys I don’t know the names of,” you harp sweetly. But it might as well be a done-deal.

“D’you make a habit outta accepting beers from ‘em?”

You smile. Typically, yes.

“Joel.”

His hand shoots out, strong and suggestive. Fingers like alligator teeth that’ll grip you, hold you under until you thrash. 

And you pluck your cigarettes and gifted liquor bottle from the bed, arms full when you carry them down to Joel’s room.

—

You’re sprawled on the full-size bed next to his, head propped up on hand propped up on elbow.

You’ve been trading your little fist of bourbon back and forth, swapping stories in the same way. Somehow, you fall into it easy like old friends, and it’s nice to follow someone’s lead instead of keeping one step, three, seven steps ahead. Arm outstretched to the door knob, feet ready to break into a run at the change in tone, blackening of pupils.

Without meaning to, you’ve wordlessly agreed that the person in possession of the bottle has the proverbial mic, and they swig to help with details and theatrics. It’s counter-productive in flow, but it makes you laugh when Joel exaggerates the story he’s telling on purpose, reaching out to pass it back and suddenly yanking it back, remembering a shade of gray or a funny expression.

Your knuckles keep zapping each other, brushing a little longer than the time before. There’s no numbness to consensual touch.

Joel’s mid-40s. From Texas, like you. He came to visit his daughter Sarah at college, says she’s growin’ up too fast, doesn’t need her old man anymore. It’s a thrill to see someone talk about their own flesh with love, admiration for who she is and who she’s becoming. You find yourself leaning in, enraptured that there are no IOUs or fine-print that you know to come with a parent’s love.

Mentions of his stubborn brother Tommy who he works with and who just can’t stop getting into trouble. The unspoken guilt that maybe he could be the one to keep him out of jail if he tried harder. It doesn’t work that way, and you tell him so.

You tell him about your dad when he asks about your life, your story, and you don’t know why you do but maybe you know exactly why. No one ever gets close enough to ask, so it comes leaking out of the corners of your mouth.  

You’ve never told anyone, not even your diary, not even the guidance counselor who slipped a note to your fifth grade teacher and pulled you out of class. Shaky fingers, shaky limbs when they asked if they could roll up your sleeves just to see and you said no. 

Crying because you knew your dad wouldn’t let you go back. Not to school, not to your friends.

You omit the nitty-gritty details, but Joel gets the gist. Swigs his share of the liquor a little too angrily with tight lips. Not like your dad does, but you don’t miss the irony of it all.

He holds anger for you, on behalf of you. It simmers as he listens to you in patient silence, coming to a boil at the bad parts when he gets up and starts walking lines in the shitty carpet. Pretending to look outside in interest at his truck parked at the end of the lot, but gripping the curtains until you can see every expanse of bone in his hand.

You don’t need this from him. It’s a hurt you’ve wedged between the pages of a book and doused in flames of acceptance long ago. But it spreads from your toes to your ears, the burn of someone feeling like this. For someone like you.

He finally settles down in an armchair by the window, a funny corduroy thing that would probably light up under a blacklight on one of those crime shows. Legs parted, a warm stare on the way you take up space on the bed. Facing him comfortably, your vision buzzing around the edges. A loose smile shared as if this room was meant for the two of you all along.

“So, what’s your plan?” Joel’s humming, his words getting lost in an echo of the bottle neck.

You don’t have one. Can’t have one when you have nowhere to go but gone.

It stretches on and on between you — a mouth opened and closed too many times on possibilities. If you admit to it, you end up with pity or an upper hand dealt to a stranger. You can’t afford to owe anyone a favor, nor can you front the cost of needing one.

But you’re so tired.

“Dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

“You got enough time for that?”

And you know what he means. Enough time in the motel, enough time before you’re a thief at wit’s end, doing anything for survival. He doesn’t need to ask to know you don’t have a destination, some relative waiting for you in a California dream.

You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom, soft radio bleeding in under the door, arms braced on the sink, all glossy eyes.

You want him, bad. But he won’t make the first move, won’t take advantage of what isn’t his and what others before him took without asking. You’re a pawn, entitled to the first move. The rejection would kill you, but not knowing would be worse.

He could hold you soft, give you something to think about when tomorrow rips you both in opposite directions.

When you pull open the door, Joel’s frozen in mid-stride towards you, like he’s just made up his mind about something.

He straightens but he’s still. Afraid of moving too fast, saying too much, scaring you into flight. Out of the unlocked cage of his room — something he did on purpose, because he doesn’t expect anything from you and wants you to know he doesn’t.

You meet him in his dusty shag quicksand. You take his wrist in your hand, kiss the thrum of life in the dip where veins meet palm. An offering.

Joel looks like he’s in pain, like what you’re doing is excruciating and thorny. The front of his jeans strains. He’s searching you for any hesitation, any obligation because he did something kind. He knows what currency you feel the need to pay in, and this isn’t that.

“Please,” you whisper simply. And he nods, accepting, succumbing.

There’s a careful meeting of lips, wanting to do it the right way, in the right order. When you push your tongue in, used to the pace of animals, he just holds your face and slows you down. It’s languid, his mouth showing you what sweet and gentle can taste like. Your tongues take their time, and your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, all ribbed muscle with a sprinkling of hair.

He shudders against the lightness of your feather-fingers.

Joel’s hands are peeling your shirt off, his thumbs resting to press against pillowy hips. He’s not letting your lips go, something like impatience stirring in you. 

Doesn’t he want to fuck you hard? Fuck you fast and selfish?

Isn’t there a catch?

He’s taking his shirt off now, up and over. Carved by Michaelangelo, thrown up on a ceiling in a library book you read once. You’re touching him in reverence, but not letting yourself learn too much of him.

His eyes are molten. Joel walks you back to the edge of the bed, scratchy quilt tickling your thighs when you fall back on it. You start to pose yourself, angles that make you look more desirable, pliable. But he’s not paying attention to that, just unbuttoning your shorts, kissing the jut of every curve and permeating down to the bone, punching out a soft groan when he slides the denim off and sees the shining ambrosia that’s waiting.

He’s kneeling, tugging you down to meet his waiting mouth. And you’re just breathless, flinching when he pulls you apart, guiding your legs over his shoulders and wasting no time devouring you. Your legs, his bib.

Joel’s tongue flicks through the shell of you, teasing you in alternates of quick and slow, starving and full. It feels like a slice of heaven. 

You pitch out a tangled gasp, hands instinctively moving to knot in his hair. Anything to hold onto, a different kind of grounding.

“So wet f’me,” he vibrates lowly into you, all husk. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

He sinks a middle finger into you, and you’re keening, hips canting and unable to stay glued to the mattress. You feel him smile against your cunt, just pressing his forearm across your lower half to keep you still.

Joel’s twisting and working into you, onto you, and you’re so fucking close from just this — a tiptoeing to the edge that grows longer, more erratic in stride. He sucks your clit — pulsing sensitive, so swollen — into his mouth and grazes it with the tip of his tongue just so. Baring his incisors and closing around you in a delicious scrape like a Venus flytrap taking its meal.

You think you see God behind the flutter of your eyes.

You’re close enough to warn him, to rasp it out in the symphony of moans. His free hand reaches up to roll your peaked nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and he stretches you with an added ring finger. You’re writhing. Possessed.

He’s watching you through thick lashes. Letting your heels dig into his shoulders as the drenched sounds of you fill the room.

“Joel, please — I’m gonna —”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he just murmurs.

You feel that little pull at your navel.

And you’re tipping in a freefall, seeing stars. You clench down around his fingers, fingers that are still pumping against that spongy spot deep inside you. Your arousal gushes, wet and sticky against the scrape of his beard. He laps you up, the sight making heat creep up your chest and wrap around your neck.

When he lifts his head, he’s high on it. Pupils dilated like tiny, round moons. Your orgasm glistens on him, smeared over lips and chin. The fur of a peach peeled back far enough to sink teeth into.

It’s fucking filthy.

Joel places open-mouthed kisses from your hip up to the center of your breasts, a trail of your orgasm shiny on your skin in perfect, sloppy Os. His breath meets your throat where he nips at you, and you don’t have time to drag in a breath before you’re tasting the saltiness of yourself on his tongue.

Your fingers fumble on his belt, practiced with years of releasing the tension on the metal prongs, the slithering sound whooshing from the loops of pants. You’re good at it, like you used to be good at gymnastics until your mom stopped getting out of bed to drive you. 

There was always a little gold for contorting your body.

He detaches from you unwillingly, putting all of his weight on his knees and shins as he straddles the space of your thighs.

You’re pulling yourself up in a sitting position, pushing denim and boxers down past his hips. Letting his cock spring free, the head a dark pink and beaded with precum. You swipe the flat of your tongue against it, peeking up at him while you soak up the taste of it. 

When you push the length of him into your mouth, ridged hard with veins, Joel tips his head back, chin to the ceiling. He groans something brutish yet helpless, cradling the back of your head. You’re seated in the driver’s seat, all control. 

It’s new, different.

But then he’s moving his hips back, pulling himself from your mouth, wiping the saliva from your chin with a steady thumb.

“Don’t need t’do that,” Joel whispers hoarsely. “Not ‘f you don’t want to.”

Confused, you knit your brows. He laughs darkly, shaking his head.

“Didn’t mean it like that, it’s — it feels fuckin’ good,” he says, awestruck. “Would just rather make you feel good instead.”

Oh.

He doesn’t wait for an answer or a negotiation. The rest of his clothes pool on the floor in a pile, and he’s climbing back over you, an anchor or a buoy in a storm.

He lines himself up at the seam of you, puffy and so wet from before, nudging the tip of his cock at your warm center. A thumb coaxing the bud at the apex of you in lazy circles.

Joel’s sliding in slowly by each inch, filling you full until there’s nothing left and his patch of hair prickles the pearl of your clit. All you can do is whine and tense around him.

He’s resting tentative hands on either side of your face, indenting the weak mattress with handprints. He groans, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give in when you try to rock against him.

“This alright?”

You’ve forgotten how to do anything, hoping that digging your fingertips into his forearms is communication enough.

“I’m gonna need a yes, baby.”

You feel around in the dark for the tether back to your body, and it jerks you like a marionette, giving him a nod.

“Yes. Fuck.”

That’s enough. He’s rewarding you with a roll of his hips, and you feel like you’re on fire. It’s a stuttering, painfully slow pace at first, his mouth so close to your ear that every grunt is amplified. But it evolves into something eager, unsatiated, snapping up into you with a relentless sort of fucking.

He’s hitting that place so deep within you, letting you unravel and grow hoarse from the moans tearing their way up your throat. That pressure is roiling, the kind that you get only when you touch yourself but intensified by a million.

It just feels so right, because there’s nothing to prove. 

You’re ships passing in the night, strangers making a pit-stop on the way to nowhere. There’s no backstory, no history to make mention of. No shame in the morning when he inevitably rolls over and pretends to be asleep, and you scrub off the smell of him with your provided travel-size shampoo.

It’s not love, but it might be the closest you ever get.

The glow of him above you, a deity with his face screwed in agony. Chasing after you when he feels the tightening of your cunt, the easy glide of every thrust that tells him you’re close.

Then, you’re snapping like a rubber band. Gushing in a dripping mess that trickles to where your ass meets thigh. Crying without tears, overstimulated but blissful. Joel is quick to follow, like he’s been waiting his turn.

He’s trembling, emptying inside you in a warm flood. Groaning low and beautiful, gripping your hips to keep you flush to him.

When pulls out, tearing himself away, he’s slinging an arm over his eyes on the pillow beside yours. One hand on your leg to make sure you don’t go anywhere.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him mutter.

At some point you drift off, his arm draped over you. You open a bleary eye to a neon 2:49AM that casts a halo over the nightstand. Joel’s tucked you in, the thin duvet snug up to your shoulder. He’s not snoring but not not snoring, just breath getting caught in his throat in a satisfied, well-spent way.

It’s all too much, too pure to be real.

Before you let yourself change your mind, you slink out from under the warmth of your generous stranger. You step in your shorts one foot at a time, tugging them up gelatin legs too springy from coiling and uncoiling.

You promise yourself that you’ll take just one mental picture as a keepsake, and it’s this. A sleepy Joel who will be well on his way to a second cup of coffee on the way out of Arizona, maybe even nursing a little headache behind his right eye. And he’ll remember an apparition of some girl he fucked in a motel. The touristy thing to do, a sight to see. 

He might even tell Tommy, say you were a crazy little thing with too much baggage, but it was fun to stay up past his bedtime.

You don’t mean to do it, really you don’t, but you flip through his wallet that lays innocently on top of the TV.

If you take a little something, that’ll turn this into another one of your stories that you tell your kids born from a loveless marriage somewhere in the crevices of a future from now. It won’t pull on the tendons of your heart.

And it won’t mean anything. You won’t let it.

—

The next morning, there’s a soft knock at the door, and it’s probably housekeeping kicking you out for overstaying your welcome. Time to turn down the bed for the next lost soul. You imagine Joel’s long gone, hopped in his truck and back to a reality you’ll never meet him in.

Your fingers are slow to gather up your purse, and you’re shoving your toothbrush in from its place on the sink.

“I’ll be out in a second!” you yell in a voice that reeks of years of diner-flavored customer service.

More persistent knocking that borders on pounding. It shakes the chain in the deadbolt.

You’re yanking open the door, and there’s Joel, white shirt and jeans. And it isn’t that cushion of admiration from last night, no greeting with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Just a wolf coming to claim his continental breakfast.

Fuck.

You try to shut the door, suddenly too ashamed of what you’ve done, and to someone undeserving. Someone that showed you kindness, empathy.

But his boot catches the door before it can close, and he’s inside, slicing through the space between you. It’s not quite anger, but it’s shadowy. Sardonic.

Your shoulder blades kiss the cheap wallpaper.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?” he starts, and he’s smiling but not really.

Shrinking small, so small that maybe you’ll disappear.

There’s a tick of silence. His thumb skates to your collarbone and then to the hollow at the base of your throat. He wants to squeeze but he doesn’t, his fingers wrapping loosely around the column to fix you there. Heat creeps up the back of your neck into your hairline.

The instinct to flinch bubbles up against your joints, but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Y’think you can fuck me,” he muses, disgustingly deadpan, “‘n steal from me.”

Dread weighs heavy like lead in your stomach. You can’t stop yourself from shaking your head, still playing dumb.

He bristles at that, thunderous. You both know it’s a lie; you’re a hundred dollars richer than you were last night. His fingers briefly flex around you in a way that you’ve seen before, and horror hits a fever pitch in you.

Tears prick your eyes, and you’re putting your palms on his chest and shoving, but he doesn’t give. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, and all that.

It’s not so much the blaring punctuation in a sentence, the ticking of dynamite ready to blow. He’s confronting you with proximity, with your own dishonesty. Wanting to shake you and tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way.

Joel just leans in closer, almost grazing noses. You try to breathe around the lump of panic.

“The hell’s the matter with you?”

It’s disbelief, it’s hurt. In the same way, it’s understanding, incredulous. It’s him stepping back and loosening the hold around your neck like no one’s ever done; it’s softening and imploring.

He’s shoving his hands in his pockets, guilty and recoiling. Sorry he could even make himself look like one of them — a forced penance in the flesh.

There’s no answer that can justify what you did. Nothing simple about nothing personal. But truly… that’s all it was. A pie wafting steam on an open windowsill. Something to make you feel better about the void he’d leave.

“‘F you needed money, you coulda just asked.” 

He’s disappointed, desperate. In a tone that really says, I would’ve done anything you wanted.

A dam inside you gives, crumbling deep at the foundation and knocking the walls down around you. Words don’t come, but you shove your hand in blind into your bag, pulling out the loose bill and extending it.

Joel sees the regretful offering and your heart with x-ray vision. That you think of yourself as a doll, less valuable without her box. Used without tags. Free to a good home.

He shakes his head, the softness of a keep it barely peeking out of his mouth.

You’re skinning yourself raw, wanting another way out but having none. With half a mind to say that the next night could come with fangs.

You feel the stab of relief, and shame. So much shame.

Like a soothsayer, he foresees the coldness of a bench, the shrinking of you into the safety of an alley.

You drop to your knees in exaltation, thinking you know what’ll fix this. You can’t see through the watercolor blur of your tears, but you touch his belt with fingers that are cold to the tips.

But Joel knows what you’re doing, shaking his head no no no.

He won’t let you do it like this. He drags you up gently by the elbows. Pulls you into his chest, says stop stop stop. Kisses your hair, then your lips. You cry until he can taste the tears, until the front of his shirt is damp.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp out roughly. “I’m so sorry.”

He tells you to never say sorry to him again.

—

Joel pays for a room for two more nights, but only one — his with the working A/C.

You move your toothbrush and your bag over to Room 20.

You go to the pool, swimming laps around him in a tank top and your cherry-embroidered underwear, squealing and splashing in a flail when he swims underneath your legs and stands up to hold you on his tan shoulders.

Sunscreen streaks greasy on your stomach when you lay out together on the loungers after. Joel likes a cat-nap with his face under a towel, grumpy and tired from the sun. But he never snaps at you, never gets impatient when you ask too many questions while he’s dozing off.

You learn the pinched expression he makes just before he comes. That his right palm has hundreds of lines you can see best by lamplight. He misses the noise of Sarah in his house, of sharing the coffee pot with someone. He doesn’t like the small piling of toast crumbs left only by him on the kitchen table.

He learns that you apologize for wet, clean hair on his pillowcase, for laughing too loud. Things that don’t need a sorry. A collection of oversaturated manners that might take time to unlearn, but he promises to teach you.

He learns that you approach an orgasm with tentative toes in cold water, almost unbelieving that sex can give, give, give instead of take, take, take. He learns that you like the meeting of eyes when he’s buried between your legs, pushing your thighs apart to keep from suffocating. That when he does let you get on your knees for him, you know just the spot to caress with your tongue on the underside of his cock.

Joel’s belt is snaked under your stomach, across your hips, fists intertwined in the leather as he pulls you back, slams himself forward. It bites and creates indents in your flesh, and you don’t care. He gives you marks to love, to admire in your reflection, never ones that are ugly. Never ones out of hate over spilled milk.

There’s a dirty slap of skin, growing louder, competing with your moans. Your nails are tearing into the cheap sheets, and Joel’s so close but won’t come until he coaxes another out of you. A grand total of at least four by now, but you’ve lost count.

At long last, you splinter around him. Pitching off the cliff in a cry. Joel’s leaning — his chest, your back — and spilling deep, holding onto you for dear life. You hear him whimper in a strangle. Big, tough game that’s been taken down with an arrow in his chest.

Hot tears are flowing out of you, stuttering sobs close to follow, and Joel pulls out slowly. Seems to know why. And he rolls you over, into him, hand careful in slow strokes against your hair.  

You’ve never been good at goodbyes. Maybe that’s what this is.

Men like to say that women like you are insane, too analytical, too tear-streaked, too conscious of the way they look when they sleep. Because waking up with your mouth open, a drying corner of drool threatening your cheek is too human, not pretty.

Sometimes women like you are dead, rotting pomegranate flesh. Long forgotten in decay on the ground when the weight became too heavy to hold yourself up. And those men pick up your seeds and shove them squelching back into places where they don’t fit. 

The winters come bitter and harsh, but you’re always reborn in the spring. And without fail, you grow back fiercely into a tree reminiscent of Eden, low-hanging apples plucked and bruised and bitten into once and spit out in tart disgust. 

Women like you choke men like this with your pits, strangle them with vines, poison them with berries. They can consume, but so can you.

But then, in the ripe, cool shade of summer, you’ll have a visitor like Joel that will come with a basket and a blanket and they’ll stay and read books beneath you. They’ll enjoy your fruit, you’ll drip from their mouth and dry tacky like flypaper, and they won’t be able to imagine a day before you. 

They’ll collect all the pieces of you on a Tuesday morning and give you change to get a Coke after checkout. They’ll tuck you into the front seat of their truck, let you put your feet up on the dash, hand protective and calm on your thigh while the other steers you both back to Texas. A new home without shouting and bottles thrown.

And they’ll stay through every season.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

1989 home is a conglomeration of Contemporary, Art Deco, and Castle. If you like your modern homes extra, this one in Highland Park, IL has everything you could want, but not necessarily need. 6bds, 7ba, $1.495M.

The entrance hall with 2 metal doors, marble floors and a swirling staircase. What is that hole in the floor on the right.

Straight ahead is a room built in a room, with double doors and glass block.

There's a dining area next to the structure, with a rounded wall and a fireplace.

Wine rack in the wall. From the dining room are 3 steps to a bar & lounge. (Why do they do that?)

Tipsy guests could fall.

Lounge area in front of a fireplace.

The lounge is between the dining room and the kitchen.

Sterile looking white and stainless steel kitchen.

Why do they put mirrored walls in bathrooms? They're so mind boggling.

Contemporary home office with a pink neon strip. Interesting medieval decor thrown in.

The most baffling room is the 2 story primary bedroom. It has a terrace, room for a sitting area, lots of windows, a spiral staircase to a loft, and a round bed with a sloppy square inflatable mattress.

Large 2 room en-suite. Note the blue lights in the glass block platform.

There's a separate area in the closet/dressing room for a makeup vanity.

All of the other bedrooms are also spacious and have access to terraces.

This looks like the kids play/TV room.

Must be the mud room. Everyone has a viking hat.

Look at the locker room. I don't see any sports facility in the house.

Huge rec room.

Glass block bar in the corner.

Home theater "lobby." The owner's name must be Sanan, so the new owner will have to change the marquee letters.

The theater is surprisingly plain.

Another mirrored bath.

Pool out back of the 1.02 acre property.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1949-Browning-Ct-Highland-Park-IL-60035/4902415_zpid/?

[blackcatrph]

»   ━━  BARBIE  BIG  CITY  BIG  DREAMS  :  LYRIC  STARTERS.

lyrics  taken  from  the  barbie  big  city  big  dreams  animation.  please  alter  any  pronouns  when  sending  if  needed.

“ i love the concrete jungle. ”

“ i’m a beach girl. ”

“ together we’re the best of both possible worlds. ”

“ our duo’s so dynamic. ”

“ like fire and rain, together we can set it off and make a big bang. ”

“ hey universe, look who’s coming at you. ”

“ for the first time i found my perfect match. ”

“ how did we ever survive before us ? ”

“ all i need now in my life is more us. ”

“ it’s like we’re meant to be, like destiny, so right. ”

“ i just go with the flow. ”

“ i plan out every day. ”

“ our master plan will lead us straight to broadway. ”

“ put respect on this groove. ”

“ through thick and thin. ”

“ we’ve got the brightest future. ”

“ where’ve you been? because i wish i’d met you sooner. ”

 “ look and learn. ”

“ feel the burn. ”

“ just try harder. ”

“ this is tough. ”

“ tighten up. ”

“ my spirit is deflating. ”

“ my fear’s inflating. ”

“ this school is calling my bluff. ”

“ hope i have the right stuff. ”

“ remember how to be brave. ”

“ can i get out of my head ? ”

“ grind on my mind. ”

“ work it double time. ”

“ never fall a step behind. ”

“ this is what you wanted. ”

“ don’t be daunted. ”

“ just be patient and relax, cut yourself some slack. ”

“ why am i the only one who keeps scrambling and face planting ? ”

“ this is draining. ”

“ stop complaining. ”

“ i know it’s worth the trouble. ”

“ did everyone see ? ”

“ of course they saw. ”

“ pull yourself together. ”

“ practice until it’s perfect. ”

“ plant your feet. ”

“ use your core. ”

“ keep the beat. ”

“ get off the floor. ”

“ how can you even show your face ? ”

“ i’m losing my mind. ”

“ i flew in on cloud nine. ”

“ made a new best friend. ”

“ there wasn’t a question that everything would work out perfectly. ”

“ spoke too soon. ”

“ worst in the room, like a total crash landing. ”

“ i’m not going to let that keep me down. ”

“ it’s all about those good vibes. ”

“ take a look at me, so on pointe and savvy. ”

“ the whole world at my feet. ”

“ didn’t know what fear meant. ”

“ guess i’m not immune to the laws of gravity. ”

“ crutches won’t be keeping me earthbound. ”

“ is the glass half full or half empty ? ”

“ let the positivity take over. ”

“ como se dice ? let me put it this way. ”

“ chequen esto, chicas, mi visión loca. ”

“ my imagination soars. ”

“ got to spread my wings and get to higher ground. ”

“ back here again, losing a friend. ”

“ i thought i was strong, but i’m reeling. ”

“ this time felt different, our connection was instant. ”

“ that was pure magical thinking. ”

“ just move on from the pain. ”

“ soon it’ll fade like a memory. ”

“ you’ll start over again. ”

“ evolving from this fateful origin story. ”

“ a chariot streaks across the sky so majestically. ”

“ two girls on an odyssey in the city that never sleeps. ”

“ riding high on a merry go round of modern mythology. ”

“ discovered a new part of me in a fated friend. ”

“ i knew finding you would be an epic journey with no end. ”

“ you can’t see shooting stars in the city of marquee lights. ”

“ fate brough us together then tore us apart. ”

“ i wish i could go back and restart. ”

“ i’ll race across the sky to a work where dreams and friendships aren’t destined to collide. ”

“ stranded on this lonely island. ”

“ great beginnings don’t get happy endings. ”

“ glorious mythologies can slip out of your reach. ”

“ in reality, best friends leave. ”

“ you’re my fiercest competition. ”

“ we’re best friends, no contradiction. ”

“ never let jealousy get in our way. ”

“ help each other up. ”

“ you set the bar, i’ll raise it. ”

“ you won’t catch me holding back. ”

“ why should our drive divide us ? ”

“ let’s let our strength unite us. ”

“ i’ve still got your back. ”

“ see you at the finish line. ”

“ when you need the strength to clear it, i’m gonna be there cheering. ”

“ i’m never leaving you behind. ”

“ if you stumble, just keep your fight on. ”

“ follow my voice to my arms. ”

“ we’re going hard and we’re going together. ”

“ we know what we want. ”

“ we’re giving up never. ”

“ we were born to show the world just who the boss is. ”

“ stopping more traffic than midtown rush hour. ”

“ you know we’re doing it right. ”

“ lean on my shoulder. ”

“ we’ve got each other, that’s the way it’ll always be. ”

“ bank on our future, it’s gold. ”

“ we’ll wake up with our names in lights. ”

[foreverlogical]

Jeffrey McConney, former controller for the Trump Organization, is among the people who has testified in the bench trial for New York Attorney General Letitia James' civil fraud case against the company.

James alleges that former President Donald Trump and his company seriously exaggerated the value of its real estate assets — an allegation that Justice Arthur Engoron, assigned to the case, agreed with in a September 26 ruling. And McConney has offered testimony on the Trump Organization's operations.

Trump's legal team has claimed that McConney has insufficient knowledge where property valuations are concerned. But the Daily Beast's Jose Pagliery, in a report published on October 12, lays out some reasons why that claim is problematic.

POLL: Should Trump be allowed to hold office again?

In court, Trump lawyer Jesus Suarez told Engoron, "Objection, your honor. Mr. McConney is not a valuation expert. He's not offered as a valuation expert."

But Pagliery explains, "The idea that the Trump Organization's long-time bean counter would be oblivious to the inner workings of real estate valuations seemed implausible, given that documents presented at trial showed that he was the key conduit to getting those very valuations compiled into Trump's annual statements of financial condition. That paperwork, which was signed off by outside accountants at the firm Mazars USA, was the reason that financial institutions like Deutsche Bank and Ladder Capital extended hundreds of millions of dollars in loans to Trump."

Pagliery continues, "Those funds allowed his company to seal several marquee deals, including the purchase of the Doral golf course in South Florida and the acquisition of the Old Post Office in Downtown Washington, which briefly became a Trump hotel. The inherently contradictory nature of Trump lawyers' stance on McConney underscored the sharp contrast on display at the ongoing bank fraud trial, where James is trying to bolster a case the judge has already decided has merit while Trump lawyers combat the very premise of the investigation. When investigators point to spreadsheets, the defense either shrugs, appears confused, or claims vastly inflated values are mere differences of opinion."

[nitrosodiumequilibriumproject]

Tying Up Loose Ends (and a massive dive into how my mind works in game design)

There's basically one more thing I need to do for the project: create a marquee on PhotoShop. Otherwise, it's finished. Debriefs have been filled in, research processes outlined, files zipped and assignments sent off. My game is ready to be packaged and put on an arcade machine, and it'll run right out of the box. I obviously don't want to come off as prideful, but I think a finished game on this project is something special. At the very least, a polished game - not something that, yeah, it plays, but it's glitchy and scraped together just in time for the deadline. A game where I set out to do a thing and succeeded in considerable capacity. Toxic Waters was a good game, but it wasn't perfect. It was my first proper Unreal project and I overshot what I thought I could accomplish - multiple enemy types, combat with various unique weapons, large non-linear levels, advanced puzzle mechanics and an in-game shop had to be cut. Overdeath was a fine idea with an admittedly bad prototype level attached to it. The core gameplay loop was yet to be implemented, and the final "game" was a mess of poor time allocation and unused assets sitting unseen beneath the Z-kill. Sweat Pursuit could've been this. Another case of NitroSodium thinking he could make something that, in truth, was far above his skill level. But I did it!

I think I've mentioned this before, but this project was more about functionality than immersion. With Toxic Waters, I had a whole world envisioned; the Hydromorph Research Complex, a flooded scientific facility of snaking pipes and wailing sirens. The game was chunky and mechanical, a fine-tuned set of systems waiting to be utilized by the player to escape. With Overdeath, I wanted to create a wacky, vibrant homage to games like Serious Sam, where every shot fired has some effect to the world, blasting apart boxes or inflating them to double size. The key was always Create an experience, but after Overdeath failed to be interesting nor playable, the focus shifted to Make a game, specifically because Sweat Pursuit relies entirely upon its mechanics. Blog-wise, there were no walls of text debating on what weapon would be thematically relevant a la Toxic Waters, no collages of frozen outposts and junked snowcats like in Overdeath. All my thoughts were on the functionality of Sweat Pursuit, because without it, the whole thing collapses. I don't like making games like that. I much prefer the artistic merits of game creation; designing worlds and coming up with interesting ways the player can interact with them. For my next project, the looming, ominous FMP, I want to go back to that Toxic Waters era of design. I want to flesh out a world and build it so that a player can move through it, use all the moving elements that make it tick, jump on its platforms and exist in this deeply-stylized stratification of a real place.

I think the FMP is about lottery tickets? But obviously that'd be altered somehow to fit an idea. Right now I have no clue what I'll do for it. I've got something like three months though, far longer than my other projects, and I am a little intimidated by it. I mean, we're given a whole week for our teachers to explain it. How complex is it gonna be? I think I can add a second pillar to my gamedev formula.

I: Create the bare minimum before everything else. A game needs to be playable and functional as a concept before any more work is done.

II: Doubt is your biggest impediment. Having a solid idea to build off on is key to starting your project correctly.

I think for the rest of this week I'll be relaxed. Today I did crunch pretty hard. As my friends would say, I locked in. Headphones up, Deus Ex Area 51 Combat breakbeat blasting in my ears, not talking to anyone until my evaluations were done. But tomorrow, I'll do a little relaxing PhotoShop work, release my grip on the tight ball of stress that has been the Equilibrium Project for the last month, recuperate and prepare myself for whatever comes next. It's nice to word-vomit like this at the end of the project, archive the various thoughts that played in my head on loop as I connected nodes and playtested, but could never be fit into the work schedule. I'm ready to try something else. To utilise my new ideas and programming knowledge in a brand new, interesting way.

[mountainshade]

Inflatable Arches

Mountain Shade offers a complete line of shade products, High pressure inflatable marquee, inflatable arches, inflatable marquee, tents, waves and more. What separates Mountain Shade from competitors is the ability to invent and innovate to bring a dream or concept to reality!

[platinumwear]

Inflatable Nightclub Cube Tent Disco Light Nightclub Tent with LED Colour Lighting Suitable With Blower For Birthday Parties

  Model Number: Large Cube Type: Inflatable Bouncer Design: Large Outdoor Inflatable Recreation Material: Oxford Brand Name: Ejia Recommend Age: 14+y Certification: CE,RoHS     Large white Inflatable Square Tent sport marquee With colorful lights ,inflatable cubic structure  building tent for event party   Material: High quality 210D Oxford cloth Size: 5m 6m 8m 10m or customized size Colour:…

[event1212]

Transform Your Event with an Inflatable Bubble House: The Ultimate Guide

When it comes to planning a memorable event, whether it's a wedding, birthday party, corporate gathering, or any other special occasion, the venue plays a crucial role in setting the tone. Imagine hosting your event in a unique, whimsical space that captures the imagination of your guests from the moment they arrive. That's where the magic of an inflatable bubble house comes in.

The Allure of an Inflatable Bubble House

In recent years, inflatable bubble houses have become increasingly popular for events of all kinds. These transparent, dome-shaped structures offer a one-of-a-kind experience, allowing guests to enjoy breathtaking views of their surroundings while being sheltered from the elements. Whether set up in a picturesque outdoor location or integrated into an indoor venue, flimsy bubble houses add a touch of novelty and sophistication to any event.

Versatility and Customization

One of the key advantages of opting for an inflatable bubble house is its versatility. These structures come in various sizes, making them suitable for intimate gatherings as well as large-scale events. Additionally, they can be customized to suit your specific theme or aesthetic preferences, with options for lighting, décor, and furnishings to create the perfect ambiance.

Practicality and Convenience

In addition to their visual appeal, flimsy bubble houses offer practical benefits that make them an attractive choice for event planners. Their lightweight and portable design makes them easy to set up and take down, minimizing the logistical challenges associated with traditional venue rentals. Furthermore, their weather-resistant properties ensure that your event can proceed as planned, rain or shine.

Elevate Your Event with Marquee Rentals

While flimsy bubble houses are sure to wow your guests, complementing them with the right amenities can take your event to the next level. Marquee rentals provide additional space and functionality, allowing you to accommodate larger guest lists or create designated areas for dining, dancing, and entertainment. Whether you're hosting an elegant soirée or a casual get-together, marquee rentals offer flexibility and versatility to suit your needs.

Milwaukee and Chicago's Premier Event Rental Service

When it comes to sourcing high-quality event rentals in the Milwaukee and Chicago areas, look no further than easy breezy bash. Our extensive collection includes everything you need to bring your vision to life, from special event tables and chairs to photo booths, flower walls, neon signs, furniture, and decor. With our commitment to excellence and attention to detail, we're proud to be your partner in creating unforgettable memories for your special occasions.

Conclusion:

When planning your next event, consider the transformative power of a flimsy bubble house paired with marquee rentals. With easybreezybashco.com as your trusted rental provider, you can rest assured that every detail will be taken care of, allowing you to focus on enjoying the celebration with your guests.

[rajwillwrite]

High-Speed Rail in India

Image credit: Image/@nhsrcl

The Shinkansen, Japan’s high-speed train, was first introduced in 1964. Today, countries like the UK, France, Germany, Spain, China, the USA, Australia, and South Africa have adopted this service. India is also on the path to reaping the long-term socio-economic benefits of high-speed trains.

India’s marquee bullet train project, the Maharashtra Ahmedabad High-Speed Railway (MAHSR), is expected to generate numerous economic benefits and significantly impact people’s lives. It will create thousands of direct and indirect employment opportunities, stimulate the economy, pave the way for entirely new industries, and potentially trigger the next real estate boom. By saving businesses and individuals time and money, it will increase mobility and give a boost to the ‘Make in India’ initiative.

Upon completion, the travel time between Mumbai and Ahmedabad will be reduced to under 2 hours, a significant decrease from the current 8-9 hours by road and 4-5 hours by plane. This reduction in travel time and cost will not only save energy but also reduce stress and increase productivity, thereby benefiting not just individuals but also the country’s overall economy.

High-speed railways (HSR) are not subject to road congestion, so they operate on schedule every day without delay, even during adverse weather conditions. This has been exemplified by Japanese bullet trains, which are globally known for their punctuality and efficiency across all seasons.

The MAHSR project is a part of the Make In India initiative. As part of the transfer of technology (ToT) aspect of the project, Japan will share its blueprints and methodology with its Indian counterparts. This will enable India to replicate and recreate these elements related to the project under the ‘Make in India’ scheme.

The 508 km bullet train corridor will have ‘limited stop’ and ‘all stop’ services. The bullet train will have a maximum operational speed of 320 km/hr and will include a 21 km long tunnel, with a 7 km undersea stretch.

The cost of the project is estimated at Rs 1.08 lakh crore. The Government of India will pay Rs 10,000 crore to the National High-Speed Rail Corporation Ltd (NHSRCL), while the two states involved, Gujarat and Maharashtra, will pay Rs 5,000 crore each. The rest will be funded by Japan through a loan carrying a 0.1% interest rate.

However, there are concerns regarding the project’s financing. India could have saved as much as $3.2 billion on the construction of the Mumbai-Ahmedabad bullet train system if it had invited bids instead of awarding the project to Japan on a nomination basis. Furthermore, given the difference in inflation between India and Japan, the Japanese yen is projected to appreciate against the Indian rupee over the loan repayment period, potentially negating the benefit of a low-interest rate.

The project also raises environmental concerns, including the potential loss of mangroves and the impact on various species that inhabit these areas. The government and the NHSRCL are taking several measures to address these concerns, including implementing an environmental management plan and obtaining all requisite wildlife, forestry, and coastal regulation zone clearances.

In conclusion, while the bullet train project in India presents significant economic opportunities, it also poses financial and environmental challenges that need to be carefully managed. With proper planning and execution, the project has the potential to transform India’s transportation landscape and contribute significantly to its socio-economic development.

[wealthview]

Navi Technologies IPO Date, Lot Size, Price, Company Profile & Financial Details

New Post has been published on https://wealthview.co.in/navi-technologies-ipo/

Navi Technologies IPO Date, Lot Size, Price, Company Profile & Financial Details

Navi Technologies IPO: Company and Industry: Navi Technologies is a young player in the Indian financial services industry, using technology to offer a range of products and services focused on the underserved middle class. Their offerings include micro-loans, wealth management, and insurance, all delivered through a digital platform.

IPO Details: While the IPO is yet to occur, the company has received Sebi approval and aims to raise Rs. 3,350 crore through a fresh issue of equity shares. The offer size may decrease if they choose to proceed with a pre-IPO placement of up to Rs. 670 crore. Dates for the open, close, and listing are still undisclosed. The price band is also yet to be announced.

News and Developments:

The IPO has generated significant buzz due to Sachin Bansal’s involvement as Founder and Chairperson. Bansal co-founded Flipkart, India’s e-commerce giant, and his success story adds allure to Navi.

However, some analysts express concerns about Navi’s profitability and lack of established track record compared to other financial giants.

Recent developments like Navi Finserv’s partnership with Mastercard and the launch of new insurance products could improve investor sentiment.

Navi Technologies has not yet issued any public offerings since its initial public offering (IPO) in March 2022. Therefore, providing details about current offer types, investor category reservations, and minimum lot sizes is not possible.

Securities offered: Equity shares Reservation percentages:

Retail investors: 35%

Qualified Institutional Buyers (QIBs): 50%

Non-Institutional Investors (NIIs): 15% Minimum lot size: 15 shares Amount required to invest: Depends on the final issue price per share, which was not known at the time of the draft offer document filing.

Navi Technologies Company Profile:

Company History and Operations:

Founded in December 2018 by Sachin Bansal (Flipkart co-founder) and Ankit Agarwal (ex-banker), Navi Technologies is a financial services company headquartered in Bengaluru, India.

Started with digital lending through its subsidiary Navi Finserv, Navi has expanded into other areas like cash, home loans, health insurance, and mutual funds.

Operating from its Bangalore office, Navi employs a technology-driven and customer-centric approach to offer products and services.

Market Position and Share:

Navi’s Digital Lending platform (Navi app) became one of the largest lending apps in India within 3 months of launch, serving over 1.5 lakh customers.

While still relatively young, Navi is considered a disruptive player in the Indian financial services space, aiming to challenge traditional institutions. Its market share in specific segments like digital lending is growing rapidly.

Milestones and Achievements:

Secured USD 377 million in funding across multiple rounds from marquee investors like Tiger Global, Sequoia Capital, and Premji Invest.

Received SEBI approval for mutual fund business in 2022.

Filed for an INR 3350 crore IPO (initial public offering) in March 2022, though it is yet to debut.

Competitive Advantages and USP:

Technology-driven: Focuses on automation, AI, and data analytics for streamlined and efficient services.

Customer-centric: Offers transparent and simplified financial products through user-friendly interfaces.

Accessibility: Targets segments traditionally underserved by banks, making financial services inclusive.

Unique approach: Blends digital capabilities with personal touch through human intervention where needed.

Potential Risks Associated with Navi Technologies IPO:

Market Volatility:

The financial markets are currently facing uncertainty due to various factors like inflation, rising interest rates, and geopolitical tensions. This volatility could lead to a dip in the overall market, impacting the initial performance of Navi Technologies’ stock.

High IPO valuations are particularly vulnerable in volatile markets, increasing the risk of price correction after listing.

Industry Headwinds:

The Indian fintech space is still nascent and highly competitive. Established players, including Paytm and PhonePe, hold significant market share, making it challenging for Navi Technologies to carve out a strong position.

Regulatory changes in the financial services sector could negatively impact the company’s growth prospects.

Company-Specific Challenges:

Navi Technologies is a relatively new company with limited operating history. Its lack of a diversified revenue stream and established track record of profitability could raise concerns among investors.

Dependence on funding from strategic partners like Flipkart could limit its operational independence and raise potential conflicts of interest.

Concerns about Navi Technologies’ data privacy practices and potential security vulnerabilities could damage its reputation and hinder user acquisition.

Financial Health Analysis:

Analyze the company’s financial statements, including income statements, balance sheets, and cash flow statements. Pay close attention to revenue growth, profitability, debt levels, and cash reserves.

Look for red flags like declining revenue, increasing losses, high debt-to-equity ratios, or significant cash burn.

Compare Navi Technologies’ financial performance with its competitors to assess its relative competitiveness.

Navi Technologies Limited Draft Offer Documents filed with SEBI

Also Read: How to Apply for an IPO?

[asap-tent]

Inflatable party tent: creating art for unforgettable events

Inflatable party tent: creating art for unforgettable events (asapcanopy.com)

Planning a memorable event involves meticulous attention to detail, and one key element that can elevate your celebration is the choice of the right inflatable party tent

Planning a memorable event involves meticulous attention to detail, and one key element that can elevate your celebration is the choice of the right inflatable party tent. Enter ASAP Canopy, a brand synonymous with quality and innovation in the world of event shelters. ASAP Canopy’s inflatable party tents are not just functional structures; they are transformative spaces that add a touch of luxury to any gathering. Imagine hosting your outdoor event under the shelter of a gracefully designed tent, crafted to perfection by ASAP Canopy.

What are the different types of inflatable party tents？

Certainly! Let’s add some more detail and richness to the description of each type of inflatable party tent:

Inflatable Dome Tents:

Description: Inflatable dome tents boast a striking and contemporary design, resembling futuristic structures that add an air of sophistication to any event. Their spacious interiors create a sense of openness, making them ideal for upscale gatherings or avant-garde events.

Inflatable Marquee Tents:

Description: Versatile and classic, inflatable marquee tents combine a sturdy frame with an elegant fabric covering. These tents are a timeless choice for a wide range of events, offering a seamless blend of practicality and style. Their inflatable counterparts add the advantage of easy setup and portability without sacrificing aesthetic appeal.

Inflatable Gazebo Tents:

Description: Compact yet charming, inflatable gazebo tents are perfect for intimate affairs, garden parties, or outdoor exhibitions. Their quick setup and striking designs make them an excellent choice for those seeking both convenience and visual allure.

Inflatable Tunnel Tents:

Description: Inflatable tunnel tents create a dynamic and interactive event space. The interconnected tunnels add an element of excitement, making them a popular choice for large-scale gatherings where participants can traverse from one captivating environment to the next.

Inflatable Igloo Tents:

Description: Embracing a whimsical and cozy atmosphere, inflatable igloo tents bring a touch of magic to winter events. The rounded shape not only provides a unique visual appeal but also enhances insulation, making them a practical choice for cold-weather celebrations.

Inflatable Cube Tents:

Description: Modern and chic, inflatable cube tents stand out with their geometric precision. These tents not only offer a contemporary aesthetic but also provide a versatile space that can be customized for branding or themed events, ensuring a memorable and visually stunning experience.

Inflatable Airtight Tents:

Description: Combining practicality with sustainability, airtight inflatable tents maintain their form without a constant air supply. This feature ensures a steady and reliable structure, allowing for a seamless event experience over an extended period.

Inflatable Clear Span Tents:

Description: Inflatable clear span tents provide an unobstructed, panoramic view within a spacious environment. The absence of center poles ensures a seamless flow of space, making them an excellent choice for elegant affairs where every guest can enjoy an unimpeded view of the event.

Inflatable Party Arch Tents:

Description: Radiating grandeur and creating a captivating focal point, inflatable party arch tents serve as impressive entranceways or central features. Their arch-shaped design not only welcomes guests but also sets the tone for a memorable and visually striking event.

Inflatable Event Tunnels:

Description: Dynamic and engaging, inflatable event tunnels make a bold statement. Whether used for promotional purposes, sports events, or as eye-catching entryways, these elongated structures create a sense of anticipation and excitement, setting the stage for an immersive experience.

These rich descriptions highlight not only the practical aspects but also the aesthetic and experiential qualities that each type of inflatable party tent can bring to an event.

[cattarattat]

Looks like Trump and his lawyers are TRYING TO CUT THEIR LOSSES.

Trump and his lawyers are requesting that Judge Engoron, ONE, end the trial early when the trial is only halfway through to begin with, and TWO, humor a ridiculous wish to waive all legal consequences & clear his name REGARDING TRUMP'S DECADES LONG, ALREADY 'WELL SUBSTANTIATED' LEGAL MISCONDUCT & CRIMINAL ACTIVITY.

Why???

Probably because starting Monday, Trump's lawyers will have to begin calling witnesses WHICH EVEN THEY ARE SURE TO GUESS will LIKELY DO LITTLE-TO-NOTHING TO BETTER TRUMP'S CASE.

(Perhaps, even make things worse for Trump, for all they know. 😆)

So Trump & his lawyers possible fall back plan?

Give up trying to 'defend his case' and move straight on to PUTTING-ON-A-GOOD-PUBLIC-PERFORMANCE OF 'PRETEND INNOCENCE' FOR TRUMP'S EXTREMIST MAGA CULT TO GET AN EYEFUL/EARFUL OF.

Still hoping for another Jan. 6th., are they???

"Donald Trump’s lawyers urged a judge Thursday to put an immediate end to the New York civil fraud trial that threatens his real estate empire, arguing that state lawyers had failed to prove that the former president intended to dupe banks, insurers and others by inflating his wealth on financial statements.

Trump’s lawyers are seeking a directed verdict, asking Judge Arthur Engoron to clear the 2024 Republican front-runner, his namesake company and other defendants of wrongdoing at the halfway point in the trial of state Attorney General Letitia James’ lawsuit.

…State lawyer Kevin Wallace responded that the defense’s arguments 'sounded more like closing arguments' and that there was no basis for a directed verdict.

The evidence is 'more than sufficient to continue to final verdict,' Wallace argued.

…Wallace countered that Trump, and his sons each signed documents saying that they were responsible for the preparation and fair presentation of the financial statements, which Engoron has already ruled were false and misleading.

The lawyers were making their arguments in court a day after Trump’s daughter Ivanka Trump testified as the state’s last witness.

Directed verdict requests are common in civil trials. In this case, Engoron is tasked with deciding the outcome rather than a jury. He has signaled interest in seeing the trial to its conclusion, asking defense lawyers for witness schedules and pegging closing arguments for mid-December.

Engoron has repeatedly ruled against Trump in the past, most consequentially in a decision before the trial that the 2024 Republican front-runner, his company and other defendants committed fraud by exaggerating his net worth and the value of assets on his financial statements, which were used to obtain loans and make deals.

Engoron’s pretrial fraud ruling came with provisions that could strip the ex-president of oversight of such marquee properties as Trump Tower, though an appeals court is allowing him continued control of his holdings for now.

The state rested its case Wednesday after six weeks of testimony from more than two dozen witnesses. James is seeking the return of what she says is more than $300 million in ill-gotten gains and a ban on Trump and other defendants from doing business in New York.

Trump testified on Monday. Eric and Donald Trump Jr. were on the witness stand last week. Trump Organization executives, outside accountants who worked on Trump’s financial statements and bank executives who worked on his loans also testified.

…The sides are spending Thursday making legal arguments known as motions, including the defense’s directed verdict bid. Trump’s side is scheduled to start calling witnesses on Monday, though that would be moot if Engoron ended the trial with a directed verdict."

[pickceldigital]

8 Ways Brands Can Move the Needle with Moving Digital Signage

Businesses are increasingly adopting digital signage as a part of their marketing strategies, especially moving digital signage. Any signage with moving parts, inflatable structures, changing materials, or materials causing optical illusion is called moving signage.

These screens update and refresh content queued up for display. It is usually based on predetermined conditions such as time of the day, seasons, trending deals, etc. Dynamic digital signage offers a more customized experience and helps businesses reach the target audience through relevant content.

8 key benefits of moving digital signage for businesses

The last decade has seen a steep rise in the use of electronic media among businesses. In the evolving landscape of customer retention, moving digital signage is a brilliant addition to any marketing initiative.

Let’s look at some of the benefits.

1. Better customer experience:

The right mix of display text, motion graphics, themes, and color combinations helps attract potential customers. Having consistent and cohesive visual interfaces enables a higher brand recall among your loyal customers.

The best bit about here is the real-time updates. For example, a restaurant highlighting their breakfast options throughout the morning grabs the attention of a passer-by who can make an instant decision.

Marquee texts and dynamic promotional images alternating with compelling videos can provide an immersive experience for your customers.

Continue Reading

[popupparties01]

Transform Your Event with PopUp Parties: Exceptional Marquee and Tent Rentals

Make your outdoor parties fun and exciting with awesome inflatable, waterproof igloo marquees. Give your guests a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We are here to make your outdoor garden parties pop like anything.