#Vises Market

[safaaaas]

Global Vises Market Trends and Growth Opportunities in 2024 to 2034

The Vises market report offered by Reports Intellect is meant to serve as a helpful means to evaluate the market together with an exhaustive scrutiny and crystal-clear statistics linked to this market. The report consists of the drivers and restraints of the Vises Market accompanied by their impact on the demand over the forecast period. Additionally, the report includes the study of prospects available in the market on a global level.

With tables and figures helping evaluate the Global Vises market, this research offers key statistics on the state of the industry and is a beneficial source of guidance and direction for companies and entities interested in the market. This report comes along with an additional Excel data-sheet suite taking quantitative data from all numeric forecasts offered in the study.

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Key players offered in the market: OMIL OK-VISE SAV Workholding and Automation GEORG KESEL Jergens Fresmak Carminati Morse Snc Wenzhou Tripod Instrument Manufacturing Jesan Kovo

Additionally, it takes account of the prominent players of the Vises market with insights including market share, product specifications, key strategies, contact details, and company profiles. Similarly, the report involves the market computed CAGR of the market created on previous records regarding the market and existing market trends accompanied by future developments. It also divulges the future impact of enforcing regulations and policies on the expansion of the Vises Market.

Scope and Segmentation of the Vises Market

The estimates for all segments including type and application/end-user have been provided on a regional basis for the forecast period from 2024 to 2034. We have applied a mix of bottom-up and top-down methods for market estimation, analyzing the crucial regional markets, dynamics, and trends for numerous applications. Moreover, the fastest & slowest growing market segments are pointed out in the study to give out significant insights into each core element of the market.

Vises Market Type Coverage: - Mechanical Hydraulic Pneumatic

Vises Market Application Coverage: - Metalworking Woodworking

Regional Analysis:

North America Country (United States, Canada) South America Asia Country (China, Japan, India, Korea) Europe Country (Germany, UK, France, Italy) Other Countries (Middle East, Africa, GCC)

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The comprehensive report provides:

Complete assessment of all opportunities and threats in the global market.

Vises Market recent advancements and major events.

A thorough study of business policies for the growth of the Vises Market leading players.

Concluding study about the growth plot of Vises Market for upcoming years.

Detailed understanding of Vises Market particular drivers, restraints, and major micro markets.

Favorable impression inside vital technological and market latest trends hitting the Vises Market.

Reasons to Purchase Vises Market Research Report

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Plan for new product promotion and portfolio in advance

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[wowieeitsisa]

Concepting (many MANY ideas)

[shirecorn]

Many fish species make excellent pets, given proper enrichment and attention to water parameters. Acquire a sounding vessel from your local alchemist to see if there are any demons or angels haunting your water. You can add demons to angelic water to balance it back out and vise versa. Each species has an ideal water alignment, and after letting the entities fight it out and settle, you can safely add inhabitants to your pond or tank. I recommend a small school of neon tetras, with plenty of plants in which they can hide. You will enjoy watching this species school around, as they do quite well in captivity with the proper care.

There is no proper care for mermaids.

There is no proper tank size, or water parameters, or enrichment or plants or anything.

Mermaids cannot be kept as pets. But some people do keep them confined, and traded like livestock. This, of course, is slavery. Just as we are descended from apes and mermaids are descended from fish; we are both still people.

Of course there are those who disagree with this categorization; and there are those who do believe, but do not care.

The black market is a lucrative and deadly operation, crawling in the underbelly of most major human cities. They trade in mundane humans on occasion, but usually it is creatures and artifacts with some magical component: mermaids, fairies, even magic-touched humans such as werewolves, selkies, and ogres. The latter being very difficult to contain as a live specimen, so often their pelts are sold instead. These are marketed alongside unicorn horns, kelpie manes, basilisk fangs, and all else forbidden from trade by anyone with a heart.

Apologies.

These topics often distract me from the professionalism of my calling. Suffice it to say, if this series has inspired you to fantasize about pet mermaids, do not. Consider a mundane fish, and seek friendship with mermaids at your local outreach dock.

Mermaids rescued from market and the homes of decadent aristocrats have a long journey of healing ahead of them. Many cannot speak their own species' language, but pick up the language of their captors instead. For this reason, rehabilitation is a joint effort between humans and mermaids, before returning them fully to seas and waterways.

Success is difficult, but rewarding. Much moreso than any value they could possibly hold as "pets." Please be careful, and respectful of your fellow sentient creature.

Remember, you don't have to be human to be a person. And no person wants to be be a pet.

[spotlightlowlife]

Greed is every sin

Just as openly elitist power abuser Stolas is the best villain of either series in this Helluverse, Mammon manages to be the greatest sin of all and for a similar reason, being multifaceted via many efforts made to sway our thinking, yet these two are then taken in different directions.

So much range does 'greed' have that he even encapsulates the 'sins' we have yet to meet.

Of those we have met, Ozzie, Bee and over in Pride, Lucifer, Mammon has managed to showcase actions of their sins in his own greedy way. Greed has a bit of everyone, but vise versa? Not if they're supposed to be liked.

A totally desexualised character but blamed for the sexdolls of a famous character whoes 'dayjob' is entertaining at a kinky nightclub, run by the prince of lust. Even though he markets the dolls as multipurpose, fit for everyone at a very affordable price, the sex element is his fault. The dolls were clearly a collaboration and something thought up before a reference was chosen, Ozzie catches feelings for their references and feels he should no longer able to separate business from his personal feelings, whilst Mammon manages to prosper in business in a field that isn't his.

Lust ✅

A glutton for the sake of being a glutton, no need for celebration just mindless or stress eating, which fits well as greed and gluttony often go together, taking because it's there.

There's also the deliberate fat design intended to make him more grotesque. 'Gluttony' does not need to be fat, yet the 'Gluttony' we met simply wanted the party goers indulged, however Ozzie wanted his patrons to keep it sexy and Mammon collected cash during the pageant, they did as much as eachother, only the efforts to make him piggish only took away from Bee's thing.

Gluttony ✅

Showy and performative but happy to take the backseat, is seen working and mentoring, adapts to what's new, what works and what others want but also bold enough to openly share selfish motive. As involved and inappropriate as his behaviour may seem he's all business, willing to work with those who don't like him and invest in what doesn't interest him without buckling or offsetting.

Mammon succeeds as a ruthless, confident, both proactive and passive leader who doesn't come across as someone who casually hangs with 'commoners' and whose true influence and power is unknown.

Pride ✅

Way too attentive to be lazy, but, what do people have to say about a boss who puts their feet up and fails to do what they're more than capable of doing, rather, they get others to do? Mammon supposedly 'not doing clown stuff anymore' and Fizz being 'a better clown than he ever was' as according to Ozzie are statements that means little, he wanted a prodigy, we saw imagery of training arc he showcases entertainers in order to fulfil his greed and his trade gets acknowledged. Ozzie has a seedy nightclub where those who work their or visit are expected to behave in a sexy way and Bee expects her guests to indulge, what's the difference? They meet their sin quota whilst not showing us any form of trade outside of being a host, why is Mammon condemned for as in a leading example of laziness? If we're scaling laziness, where does this leave poor, yet to be introduced Belphahor?

Relaxation pairs with recovery, research shows that the Sloth ring has the hospitals and is also responsible for 'upper' medication. Nice right? Something positive, which is where all those we are to like lean towards. That and Bee seems to be friends with her.

Sloth ✅

Spring boarding onto the next sin, Wrath, someone who has been described as attractive (by Bee) and is seen as a leader and god to the imps. It helps to be liked. This is hell where anything supposedly goes, murder is fine but not sadness, sadness isn't a sin but what else is everything, irate. Mammon was allowed to not only be big and menacing but pose a threat to someone who would be frightened of their fallout, allowed to resort to blackmail when he didn't like how things were going and allowed to vow revenge before taking off and trashing the place and maybe even killing his audience who bore witness on his way out, in a rather composed way.

Wrath ✅

Looloo land being a ripoff of Lulu land is so clearly a display of greed, especially since Looloo land is poorly maintained dispite Mammon being a perfectionist, this ripoff could easily be an example of envy, a grasp at control born from following a definitive leader who seems no leader at all, but can do what he wants because this is his realm.

Wlillingness to rip off such a superior, block effort at takedown with an impenetrable contract and still maintain (according to research) a good relationship with shows caution, calculation and willingness to fight.

Mammon even has his face on hell's currency and a banking app, yet who exactly is he supposed to be paying tax to? Lucifer, hells actual owner who doesn't seem to be a leader? Or are they answering to those 'higher up' which places Mammon in the frustrating position of second fiddle to a boss who isn't the best?

We haven't met Envy/Leviathan yet, but we have a host of main characters who live contemptuous lives and look to what others have that they don't, so envy, like wrath affects everyone, have been prominent driving forces since the start along with sadness and tragedy which aren't sins.

Envy ✅

Mammon manages to encompasses all elements of sinning even when he shouldn't really because it's by proxy as someone whose actions are portrayed as self serving and cruel with no excuses or failure to acknowledge, someone who upsets and can be harmful to those we are supposed to root for, something these series shy away from when they want us to like a character. We have a demon who succeeds in being someone you have no business getting mixed up with, in hell, a place you shouldn't want to be, where he is a crowned leader who is after your money if you're lucky.

Greed ✅

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard :Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 16

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

WARNING: 18+, MATURE CONTENT

Chapter 16

Dear Arnav,

I am writing with the last hope of reaching out to you with my words. I know you don't want to talk to me, and that is completely justified. This is my last attempt to contact you. I will not disturb you again.

First of all, I just wanted to say sorry for hurting you and your family unknowingly. I didn't know your father was married. As a sixteen-year-old girl with eyes full of rosy dreams, I couldn't resist the charm of my handsome neighbour. I was living with my old mother as my father died in the war when I was very young. Your father did marry me under my mother's persistence. And these are no justification for how I hurt your mother. I am truly sorry for what happened because of me. I didn't know any of that until your father shot himself.

Shortly after your father's death, I discovered I was pregnant. My mother refused to take any responsibility for me, so I moved to the other side of the city to start a new life with my baby. But perhaps God is punishing me for my misdeeds. I am dying. My liver is completely destroyed. The doctors say I only have a few months to live.

I had completely lost all hope, but one day I saw you at the farmer's market. You looked so much like your father, and upon asking, I learned your name. I knew in my heart that you were his son. I know it's extremely selfish of me to ask for your help, but you are the last hope of this dying mother. Please take care of my daughter after I die. She is only eleven. After I pass away, her only options will be either an orphanage or the street. I don't have any relatives left. Please, Arnav, take care of your sister. You are her last hope.

And if possible, please forgive me. I am leaving my address on the back. If you can, please visit us, your sister would like to meet you too. Even if you don't want to fulfil my request, I would still like the chance to apologize to you face-to-face.

Natalia Singh Raizada

As Khushi read the letter she found on the coat rack, which must have fallen from Arnav's coat, she felt her world flip upside down. Her mind went back to their fight last night, and Khushi remembered all the horrible things she had said to him. In every way she could hurt him, she hurt him where it hurt the most.

Last night, Arnav came back after a few hours and then locked himself in the study. Khushi spent the night on the living room sofa as she couldn't go back to the bed they shared and fell asleep in the wee hours of dawn. Arnav went to work before she woke up. Now, Khushi sat at the dining table with the letter, looking at the cold toast and omelette he had made for her. The food made her cry, not because it was cold but because the person who had made them. She had hurt him terribly. Still he was considerate enough to make breakfast for her. She polished off the plate like it was the most delicious meal she ever had.

Khushi knew she had to apologize to him. She would bear all his anger and do whatever it took for his forgiveness. An overwhelming sense of failure as a wife, as a best friend, as a lover gripped her heart in a vise-like grip. She had known him her whole life. He had always taken care of her. He had defied his conscience, risked facing scrutiny from the society and her babuji's wrath to marry her, always providing her with the best of his world. All she needed to do was love him and trust him. And she had failed at that.

She had reached a conclusion without verifying the facts, believing him to be a liar, all because she felt insecure. She had believed someone's words who clearly wanted to drive a wedge between them, instead of believing her husband.

As time seemed to crawl by, each minute feeling like an eternity until Arnav returned, Khushi found herself unable to sit still. In an effort to occupy her mind and pass the agonizing wait, she began meticulously cleaning the house, hoping the physical activity would distract her from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

Arnav returned very late at night, entering the house silently. Khushi had been waiting for him in the living room. When she saw him, she stood up, and they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

"Did you have dinner?" Khushi broke the silence, her hands wringing continuously.

Arnav nodded silently, looking at the floor, and turned towards the study, likely intending to spend the night there. However, he stopped midway when she called his name.

"Arnav... I'm sorry," her voice caught, but she managed to get the words out. Khushi was so ridden with guilt that she couldn't say anything more.

Arnav nodded silently. "It's okay," he said, still looking at the floor. When Khushi didn't say anything further, he spun on his heel to go to the study, locking the door behind him. Khushi walked up to the door and tried to knock, but instead, she placed her hand flat against the wood and pressed her cheek against it, desperate to feel his presence through the door.

(end of flashback)

That was seven days ago when Khushi apologized to Arnav. Although Arnav said it was okay, things were not the same anymore. He didn't sleep in the study anymore, but he didn't hold her in bed either. He didn't reject her touch though. But one time when Khushi draped her hand across his chest, he stiffened. Khushi withdrew her hand silently as her whole body burned with hurt. She never thought her touch would hurt him someday. He hadn't touched her at all, and it was the longest they had gone without being intimate with each other. He only replied when asked a direct question and couldn't even look at her. His nonchalance had made Khushi so emotional that she couldn't initiate a heart-to-heart conversation with him. All her words had jumbled into a giant mess. Khushi feared whether she had killed the part of him that loved her. She was terrified he wouldn't be able to forgive her for how she had hurt him. That was the one past he had tried to escape his whole life, and her behaviour, her accusations, brought him back to square one. Khushi could feel he was hurting but didn't know how to make things right.

All these thoughts swirled around her head as she sat on the bench. She usually sat there every afternoon, feeding the swans that gathered in their front yard. Some of the swans had become friendly and let her pet them. One such swan came to her, seeking attention. Overcome with emotion, Khushi hugged the swan and let go of the tears she had been holding back. She missed Amma so much. Amma would know what to do in this situation, how to talk to the love of her life, and how to break down the wall he had built around himself. As Khushi calmed down, she thought she knew what Amma would say. Amma would say that Khushi just had to apologize sincerely. She had to make things right between them, and for that, she needed to talk to him and bare her heart and soul.

She gathered herself up and went inside the house. She changed her saree and tried to present herself a little better. But Devyani ji came and whisked her away to a nearby tea party. It was already dark when she returned, and she knew Arnav was home by his shoes at the door. But he was not in the bedroom, and the study door was closed. It was no surprise that he was there. Khushi sighed sadly, realizing her opportunity of talking to him for that day was gone. She went to their bedroom to change for bed. One of his shirts was lying there on the back of a chair. She took it in her hand and brought it to her nose, pressing her face in it. Tears gathered in her eyes. She took the shirt and wore it over her pyjama bottoms. Instantly, his scent engulfed her in a tight embrace, making her miss him even more.

Not being able to get into the bed without him, she went across the living room to the study door. She knew it was locked but still gave it a try to twist the doorknob. Surprisingly, it was open. She went inside silently and spotted him lying on the sofa, sleeping soundly, still in his work clothes. There were dark circles under his eyes. She wondered if it was more peaceful for him to sleep here than with her. Khushi missed his touch so much. She sat on the floor near his hip and softly, without trying to disturb him, placed her head on the side of his thigh and closed her eyes. This little touch would have to do for now, she thought to herself.

But Arnav's eyes flew open, and he got up with a start, surprised to see Khushi on the floor.

"What are you doing down there? Come here," Arnav said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her sit on the sofa, face-to-face with him.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just couldn't sleep, so I came here and found you on the sofa," she prattled on, clutching her night clothes.

The Arnav looking at her was the Arnav she knew and loved throughout her life, not the one who couldn't even look at her. And Khushi's dam broke. She continued looking at him as her tears became uncontrollable, and she started talking rapidly, hardly making any sense.

"Arnav... I am so sorry... what I did was wrong... I shouldn't have done that... I am so sorry... please, forgive me," she let out with great difficulty amidst her hiccups.

"Shhh... Khushi, it's ok....stop crying," He took her face in his hands, wiping her tears urgently with his thumb. Khushi placed both of her hands over his on her face.

"No, it's not ok. What I did was completely wrong. I should have talked to you, I should have believed you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I...I felt so.... I don't know why she made me feel that way, Arnav.....She, I mean, Ms. Kashyap... " She took a deep breath and continued, "When I found out about her last summer, I thought you would marry her. And I loved you, and I assumed you didn't love me back.... that you loved her. My mind kept forming scenarios with you and her. It was.....it was horrible." She paused for a bit and then whispered, ".....But it isn't an excuse for what I did, or what I said. It was wrong."

Arnav looked at her with an unreadable expression, grasped both of her hands in his and raised them to his lips. He placed a kiss on her knuckles as he got lost in his thoughts. But Khushi wasn't finished.

"And then I saw you coming out of that lady's house." Arnav's eyes snapped to meet hers.

"Which lady?"

"Who came to our house the other day."

Realization dawned on Arnav as she continued talking. "And the lady has a 'Raizada' in her name. I should have been smarter. I judged too quickly. I thought of the worst..." Khushi lowered her eyes and continued, "I read the letter she sent you. It might have fallen from your coat jacket... "

As Arnav absorbed all the facts and contempleted about what she had actually thought, his face became horrified.

"Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry," Arnav said, engulfing her in his arms. Khushi clutched the back of his shirt tightly with both hands, hiding her face in his neck. Arnav held her close by her waist, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. "Shhh... I should have told you about her sooner, but I was caught off guard. I wasn't ready to deal with her yet."

"You don't get to say sorry today," Her voice muffled in his neck, tears soaking his shirt. "I am sorry. I should have believed in you." She let go of his shirt and peppered kisses all over his face.

"Shhhh... calm down," he said, taking her in his arms again. As she calmed down, their heartbeats synchronized against each other. Her limbs felt heavy.

Arnav brought her face to meet his and cupped her cheeks to wipe the remnants of tears. Her hands wrapped around his wrists instantly. She was starving for his touch and his thumb tracing her cheeks gently made her believe that everything was right in her world again. He tilted her head slightly to look in her eyes.

"And I am sorry about Lavanya too," he said softly. When Khushi was about to protest, he silenced her with a shake of his head. "There was nothing between her and me, Khushi. And I am saying this for the last time," he whispered, touching their noses together, their breaths intermingling.

And, then he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "I've loved you for the last two years, Khushi and I love you now..... and I'll love you even when you have some of your front teeth missing." This made both of them laugh and their laughter dissipated some of the sadness around them. As their skin continued to touch, the air filled with a different kind of electricity.

"We probably should talk some more," Arnav murmered in the space between them.

"We can always talk tomorrow."

Their lips met with a fierceness that surprised both of them. All the hurt, guilt, longing, and anxiety blended together, transforming into this fiery exchange. Arnav pulled her onto his lap, clutching her waist in a bruising grip, while she clutched his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding on desperately.

Soon, Their kiss calmed down, transforming into a more languid and relaxed pace, the frantic energy calming into something more smooth- a contained burn rather than a wildfire. His fingers traced a tender path along her jawlines, her hair and settled into the curve of her neck. She responded by pulling him closer as a silent plea for more. Their bodies moved in sync, drawing closer until there was no space left between them. Her hair cascaded around them like a curtain, cocooning them from the outside world.

His hands, full of desire, began to wander across her body, moving slowly but purposefully toward her chest. With a gentle squeeze, he caressed her soft curves over the shirt she was wearing, eliciting a shiver from her as she felt his body responding accordingly underneath hers. Breaking the kiss Arnav looked at her deeply, both of them breathing heavily. His hands continued to explore, tenderly tracing the contours of her form. He undid the first two buttons of the shirt and placed a kiss on the centre of her chest. He continued unbuttoning and kissing the newly exposed skin as he went, gradually revealing her body inch by inch.

A soft whimper escaped her lips, when his fingertips came in contact with her naked skin, their roughness grazing her soft and sensitive flesh, causing goosebumps to erupt all over her body. He wrapped his lips around one of her hardened peaks and sucked it softly.

Cradling his head in both of her hands, She placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head, then on his forhead, his eyebrows and kept planting tiny kisses in between soft gasps wherever her lips could reach as he showered her chest with attention. His lips and tongue explored each inch of her with tender care. His kisses travelled to her collarbone and neck as he asked against her skin, "And why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Because it smells like you, and I was missing you," she whispered into his ear, placing a soft kiss before sinking her teeth into his earlobe.

"Did you just bite me?" A smirk threatened to form on his lips as he looked at her sternly.

"I might have." Khushi bit her lower lip to control her giggle.

"You know I can bite you back, don't you?"

"You will bit me back anyways."

"Tell me to stop biting you and I will. I am an obedient husband after all." They grinned at each other, eyes twinkling with mirth. "And stop biting your lips, that's my job."

Arnav pressed his lips to hers and as promised nibbled on her lower lip. They began undressing each other. When Khushi tried to take off the shirt, he stopped her and said in between kisses, "Keep it on. It looks good on you."

He carefully positioned her in his lap again by holding her by her bottoms and they both hissed at the contact. Khushi steadied herself by gripping his shoulders as he slowly guided her down onto him, inch by inch. She whimpered in his neck as he sheathed himself into her to the hilt. Without delay, he began to move her in a steady rhythm, repeatedly filling her as her nails dug into his skin. His each deliberate and measured move sent waves of pleasure through both of them. Her soft gasps near his ear, as his length pressed deeply into her, causing shivers to run down his spine. His hands glided along her back, her sides, her bottom, her thigh, everywhere he could reach. And she melted into him. Her breathing quickened and she pressed her lips fervently against his as she surrendered herself to the sensation.

Khushi alternated between kissing him and gazing at his eyes, as she moved over him. She explored every inch of his skin available to her with soft, lingering kisses. From his neck to his jaw, his shoulders to his nose, as if she worshipped him with her lips. Her hardened peaks brushed against his chest as his hands gently controlled her movement. Their rhythm was unhurried, akin to a slow dance. In between deep strokes, he held her tightly for a bit and simply breathed her in with his forehead resting on her collarbone, his breath tickling her skin, while her fingers combed through his hair.

As Khushi savoured every moment of their togetherness, she realized she liked gazing into his eyes up close like this. She was captivated by the emotions swirling in his caramel-brown gaze. There was an intensity in his touch, in his kiss, his gaze tonight, that unsettled Khushi. And she hated it. It wasn't the kisses or the touch she disliked, but rather the fact that she made him feel like he needed to reassure her of his love. He didn't need to. Not anymore. She knew he loved her and she promised herself to always trust in his love. Now, she needed him to have the same faith in her as well.

"I love you," she said, cupping his face and gazing deeply into his eyes, feeling a slow, intense fire threatening to consume her.

"I know," he whispered as he closed the distance between their lips. As he deepened the kiss, one of his hands joined her body where they were joined. With time, they both welcomed the fire that ran through their veins as the sensation wrapped them in its warm embrace.

"I love you more than you know,'' she breathlessly murmured against his lips.

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari

[leprosycock]

just wanted to say you're one of my fave authors and are a huge inspiration to my writing. your prose and use of metaphors is insane and always keeps me on my toes when I'm reading. I love when I'm reading one of ur fics and I can't tell if what's being described is just an elaborate metaphor or something that's actually happened -- the extremes keep me so engaged and *in* your writing if that makes sense.

I just finished ur suitehearts fic and my jaw was open the whole time. I wanted to ask, what causes you to gravitate towards more dark / heavy / dead dove subject matter? for me personally as both a reader and writer it's just a love for the dramatic and opulent.

keep writing ur amazing stuff, it's incredible to see your work. I also have an ao3 acct but I won't share unless ur interested lol (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) my apologies for being a loser

this is unbelievably meaningful to hear, thank you so so so much!!! all i ever want to hear is that my writing feels real and isn't ever a slog or frustrating to read and that the metaphors i craft are actually punchy and make tonal/brain sense, along with prose being subtle enough to come across as surreal and an unreliable narrator in and of itself. i'm so happy that it reads that way!!

i think i've always just gravitated towards dead dove subjects because i've experienced a lot of strange, uncomfortable, twisted things that have certainly left an impression on me, my identity, and the way i navigate the world around me, so my writing is always a way to offer a kind of insight into how heavy, deep, toxic, tragic things can affect a child, a family, a life, and a home. not only is it just such a rich setting to explore extremely complicated, nuanced emotions, thoughts, feelings, and actions, but it's a sandbox to play in with personal demons and a look into unsightly, unpalatable worlds that are normally kept under wraps because they're not marketable, approachable, or lovable to a general audience.

and like you said, i also love the dramatic and opulent. i love writing metaphors and doing character studies and writing strange dialogue and crafting strange situations and building strange characters to exist in a strange world. i want to sketch out characters in a world not meant for them and vise versa. it's challenging and that's what makes it so much fun. there's a lot to it and there are a lot of answers and none of them are really the Right answer, but that's because it's such a broad and nuanced topic.

i'd love to see your ao3!! :o i won't publish it if you don't want me to but i'd absolutely be interested in seeing the kind of stuff that you write!

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Why do you reblog AI? As an artist and fellow writer it’s extremely disappointing

I'm going to assume you mean this post.

Look, I get how absolutely horrid AI is and can be.

However, this is listed as a digital work with AI elements. Considering I also use AI (grammarly) to assist with editing my works, and no one can say "Oh, that was definitely AI fixing xyz spelling/grammar mistake," I'm not going to forgo reblogging a beautiful piece of creation because the creator used AI to help them possibly edit a background or tweak colour or any other number of things.

Also, there are a lot of posts I might think are AI generated that aren't and vise versa. At least this creator listed the post as AI elements, for without that, would you have even known?

It's a difficult and touchy subject that I, too, am not happy with every aspect of, but it is a tool, and tools do need defining and recalibration.

Yes, it is being abused. Yes, people's creativity is feeding this machine that is now making money for people who don't deserve it.

Is that this artist above? I don't know, but what I saw in this post was a beautiful creation, an expression of someone's inner thoughts.

Yeah, I reblogged something that has elements of AI, but can you honestly say you have never used AI for editing? Have you Googled something iniutively? Have you talked to a search engine or chat bot?

It's all AI.

I don't agree with how AI came onto the market and has learned basically through theft, but I don't think it's going away any time soon.

Now, I don't have the knowledge or the research to speak about AI, its learning or where it goes in the future, but I think as artists and writers if all we can do is yell about how terrible it is and never get into the conversation beyond the negative, learn to harness and use that power for good, we may be sorley disappointed in the future.

T~

[manuelakevin-com-et-mark]

LA DIFFÉRENCE ENTRE LA COMMUNICATION ET LE MARKETING.

La communication et le marketing sont deux concepts étroitement liés mais qui se distinguent par leurs objectifs et leurs approches. Alors que la communication vise principalement à établir des relations et à transmettre des messages, le marketing a pour but de promouvoir des produits ou services en vue de générer des ventes.

La communication consiste à échanger des informations, à créer des interactions et à établir des liens avec un public cible. Elle englobe divers moyens tels que les relations publiques, la publicité, les médias sociaux, les événements, etc. Son objectif principal est de créer une relation de confiance avec le public, de renforcer l'image de marque et de transmettre des messages clés.

En revanche, le marketing est plus axé sur la promotion des produits ou services pour stimuler les ventes. Il repose sur une analyse approfondie du marché, des concurrents et des consommateurs afin de concevoir des stratégies visant à attirer et fidéliser la clientèle. Le marketing inclut des activités telles que la définition du positionnement, la segmentation du marché, le pricing, la distribution et la communication promotionnelle.

La principale différence entre la communication et le marketing réside dans leurs objectifs finaux. Alors que la communication vise à informer, sensibiliser et créer des liens émotionnels avec le public, le marketing vise à influencer les comportements d'achat et à générer des revenus pour l'entreprise.

En résumé, la communication et le marketing sont deux disciplines complémentaires qui jouent un rôle crucial dans la stratégie globale d'une entreprise. Tandis que la communication construit une relation de confiance avec le public, le marketing vise à convertir cette confiance en ventes. Il est essentiel pour toute entreprise de trouver un équilibre entre ces deux aspects pour atteindre ses objectifs commerciaux tout en maintenant une image positive et engageante auprès de son public.

[abyssleaves]

CW: mentions of past domestic abuse

(Not Beta'd, so forgive any typos)

~

It's the damn steaks that get you, in the end.

Not the trip, driving at definitely-not-illegal speeds all the way from Maine, the windows down, tendrils of your own dark hair whipping you in the face. Blaring the music he never let you play, singing along to the lyrics even though he always said your voice was flat. All you felt on the road was a wild kind of exultation, flying, numbness in your limbs as if this were a dream.

(You only stopped at a motel once. Put your backpack down on the single bed, and felt the stillness press in like a vise on your temples. Ten minutes later you were slapping a hundred dollar bill down in front of the bemused check-in lady, and back on the road. You slept at rest stops the rest of the way.)

The trip was fine. Freeing.

It wasn't the reality of the house, either. You shook hands with the realtor in a daze, smiling brightly the way you were taught, barely feeling the keys in your fingers. It takes you another ten minutes to unload the car. A handful of boxes and your backpack is all you brought with you. It's all that could fit in your car.

It's heavy, and you thought maybe you should be tired, but there was nothing but a sense of floating as you carry your few things in. You told yourself it's the weight lifted, the feeling of finally being able to hear yourself think. But all you could seem to think about is practicalities like thank god they left behind furniture, and is that mattress safe to sleep on.

How long until my voicemail is full, and I have some peace?

Unable to settle, even though it's far too late to unpack, you began to wander, pulling out drawers, opening cupboards. You peeked out windows, assessed the property. It's a steal, honestly, especially in this market, and you don't even really need to worry about neighbors. You can see other houses around, bits and bobs peeking through the trees, but there's only one little bungalow visible, with an older model red truck parked outside of it.

It was clean, and there was light around the edges of the heavy blinds, but no movement or sound. Maybe an older person, or older couple, you figured, then. Nobody that should be interested in you, but a relief to have someone close enough to hear it if–...if-…

Maybe it wasn't too late to unpack after all. No time like the present.

The first box you pick was the one with all of your sentimental plushes and knicknacks. The old gameboy color that you used to let Katie play, your merch from Anime Boston, the last anniversary trip. You only got a few things unpacked before you fell asleep right there on the floor, curled up.

Its fine. You were tired.

~

And now, it's morning, and you're still fine. Really, you do genuinely feel pretty great. A little blank, but that's to be expected after such a radical move.

You should call your mom and tell her you're in Texas.

You don't.

Instead, you go to make coffee and realize there isn't any. Because you didn't pack any. But there is a place nearby, google tells you. That's fine. You can treat yourself. Who’s going to stop you?

You don't think about how much Katie loved going to coffee places. Stop. She's not your responsibility anymore.

But of course she is. That's why you're in Texas, and Ben isn't in jail.

You don't remember getting the coffee. What you remember is sitting in your driveway, sipping it, thinking, huh, that truck is gone.

That's fine. You can introduce yourself later. You should make a Hello Treat first, anyway. That's what Mom would have suggested you do.

~

Your coffee goes mostly undrank, cooling slowly on the counter, as you throw yourself into unpacking with as much gusto as you can.

That's where things start to go wrong, by your estimation. Because when your stomach rumbles, what seems like an hour or two later, you casually glance at the stove clock and break into autopiloted panic. Oh my god, it's nearly four. Ben likes dinner at five.

You saw a grocery store on the way to the coffee place. That's fine. That's fine. It's a short trip, five minutes at most. You can get something that cooks quickly. You know a handful of dinners by heart at this point, and your exhausted brain busies itself with calculations on sides and cook times, and before you can blink you’re headed down the aisles with a basket on your arm. You pick up enough for simple sides, some spices, some paper plates because whoever furnished your place took all the plates but left a mysteriously insane number of forks.

Steaks. Ben likes red meat. He'll want something special after a move.

When you approach the red meat shelves, there's a man already standing there. He looks lost in thought, and he's standing right in front of the steaks. You wait patiently, the polite way you were taught, but when he finally looks up, he jumps back about a foot. You feel terrible immediately.

“Oh! I'm sorry, um, I was just…” You gesture helplessly to the rows of meat.

“It's fine. Can I grab something for you?” His affect is so flat, you're sure you've annoyed him, and you can’t say you blame him. But playing the “no, really” game would take longer and probably only irritate him more than simply getting what you need and getting out of his hair.

“Yeah.” You drop your eyes to the case, instinctively. “Uh, I was just gonna grab a couple steaks."

Silence.

Reluctantly, you look up. He's watching you, stonefaced. He looks like he’s waiting for something. You look at him blankly, and he seems to bite back a little sigh before he asks, if possibly even flatter, “What kind?”

Oh.

“Oh, my god, I'm so sorry.” You give a nervous chuckle that borders on manic, put a hand to your temple. It's almost four-fifteen now. You point to a few of the ones directly in front of him, where you can't reach. “Uh, those please.”

He grabs the three you point to and hands them over, waiting with each in his hand as you load your basket. Feeling a little guilty, you do your best to give him the warmest smile you can, feeling guilty at having been such a bother. “Thank you so much.”

He looks a little…surprised, maybe? In any case, his eyes are wide behind his vintage glasses, and he holds on a second too long to the last steak, so that you have to half pull it from his grip.

“Uh…no problem. Have a nice day.” His voice is a little friendlier, and he even gives you a faint lifting of his mouth. It could almost pass for a smile.

You feel forgiven, and beam back brightly. “You, too!”

You don't look back as you hurry away.

As you rush through self-checkout, some of that brightness dims as you feel the familiar dread. You hope none of Ben’s friends saw you smile at the guy like that. Especially since Ben knows well enough your weakness for green eyes.

~

Cooking passes in a blur of muscle memory, so that's not really the sticking point either. Oil in pan, steaks in, sear, add the butter and herbs, baste it. The sides both go in the oven, so that's all on the timer.

You get everything laid out as nicely as you can on three paper plates–two whole steaks for each of the adults, and a carefully trimmed set of slices for Katie. She hates all the fat.

Not that it matters.

Because she's never going to eat this steak.

Because she's in Maine. Because you had to flee her father in the dead of night while he worked a late shift. Because now all you have to your name is a couple boxes of necessary documents and cherished memorabilia. And a storage facility full of every scrap of your art equipment that you could slowly squirrel away, but couldn't afford to ship down after buying your new house. A bare mattress with your childhood blanket and no pillow because you haven't bought sheets yet. You had to leave your vintage dresses and leather jacket behind. You couldn't save the cameras, either. And Katie…

You haven't slept properly, changed clothes, or showered in days.

You’re free.

And you just wasted money on food you didn’t have to cook, for two people you'll never cook for again.

A car door slams in the silence.

Your vision is blurry when you try to look out the window, and you hurriedly wipe the shoulder of your shirt across your eyes, sniffling.

The red truck is back. You move over to the window to have a closer look, because it's better to be nosy about the neighbors right now than look at the plates of food you made for a husband that was never much of a husband, and a stepdaughter that isn't a stepdaughter anymore.

…

No.

No way.

You've got to be kidding me, is your first thought when around the hood of the truck comes the blond man from the meat department. He ducks to look into his mailbox.

Without even thinking you wrench your door open and stick your head out. “Hey!”

He jerks his head up from his mailbox, and you think in passing, twice in one day, he's going to think you're a psycho. He looks genuinely shocked to see you, as shocked as you were a few minutes ago.

Oh, well. Too late now. “Do you want some food?” You bellow across the lawns to him, and his face crinkles a little in confusion.

After a moment he calls back uncertainly, and much quieter than you, “. . . …Sure?”

Relief and a little happiness stir in your chest. It's been a long and lonely couple of days. “Just a sec!” You call back, and duck into the kitchen. Swiftly, you pile the second whole steak and as much of the sides from the extra two plates as you can fit. You end up needing to stack a couple plates to give it stability. It looks a little ludicrous, but what else are you going to do with it all? At least he'll know where my extra padding comes from.

(If you give your messy bun a couple of ineffectual pats, too, well, nobody needs to know but you.)

You're half-prepared to encounter the disappointment of an empty yard, given that a disheveled woman who scared him at the grocery store just yodeled at him out of nowhere, but he's waiting patiently by his mailbox, fidgeting a little with the envelopes. He looks up as you approach, and his eyes widen at the mountain of food you present to him with a smile.

“Oh, whoa,” he says. “I thought y’ meant like some cookies or something.”

“Oh… yeah, I was planning to do that later. That would be more normal.” You laugh a little, and both of you look down at the plate of food. “Um, sorry there's no clingfilm. I don't have any of that stuff yet.”

“Aw, that's alright.” For a moment you're too distracted by his drawl to notice that his eyes aren't on you anymore. They've drifted over your shoulder, and he squints as if looking for something. You follow his gaze, but all you see is the curtainless window showing your silent, still kitchen. “Your family not like the steaks or somethin’?”

“It's just me actually.”

The sentence is surprisingly steady at the start, but once you hear yourself say it, the end of the last word wobbles just a bit.

“Oh.” He looks back at you, eyebrows raising. “But you bought three of ‘em.”

“Yeah, um…” It takes you a minute to swallow the throat lump making all those funny shudders in your voice. He must hear them too, because his brow furrows as he peers more closely at you. He looks faintly concerned. “I guess I'm still used to cooking for more.”

There's a brief pause. He clearly has questions, but seems unable to figure out how to voice them. The green eyes you noticed at the store are boring into you like he wants to read the answers on your forehead.

You stick out your hand. “I'm Elizabeth–...Uh, Bess, to most people.” Bess is a cow’s name, Ben sneers in your head. But right now, competing with blond scruff and a slow, rolling accent, he's easy to ignore.

It takes your neighbor a second to shuffle the plate to one hand, but he gives your hand a firm shake with a callused grip. As with the steaks at the store, it seems to take him a moment to let you go. “Jacob,” he says, and gives you his first proper, if small, smile.

“Jacob,” You say, smiling happily, and watch his own smile widen to match yours. His face looks a little pink in the dark. “I guess we’re neighbors now.”

“Huh, guess so.” He glances at the house again, then back to you. “You let me know if you need anythin’, ok?”

You blink a little at this, after all the trouble you've been to him today, but you're not going to argue. It must be a southern thing. “Ok...I will. Thanks! I really appreciate…all this, today.” You gesture at the steak plate. “I better go eat my own before it gets cold.”

His smile dims slightly. “Sure,” he says, tone flat as ever. “See you around, Bess.”

You both linger a second longer. This is the most pleasant interaction you've had with a person in a long time, and you're surprised to find yourself not wanting to walk away. “Bye, Jacob.”

It takes a lot longer than you expect, as you make your way across to your own house, to hear his door shut.

In your silent kitchen, some of the bubble of happiness begins to leach away. You wish you'd thought to invite him to eat with you. But then, paradoxically, you feel a sudden intense guilt at the thought. You were living with your husband less than a week ago. And a voice that sounds a lot like Ben’s adds in a hiss, You’re a complete wreck.

You put your steak plate in the fridge and walk slowly over to the boxes, digging out your blanket.

Looking out your bedroom window, you can see the faint glow of Jacob’s lights in his windows. The hollowness of the silence refuses to go away, but you don't feel the same kind of flying numbness that you felt this morning. You're not running and alone now. You have a house, even if it's half-empty, and you have what might become at the very least a friend.

That's fine. It'll be fine.

~

( @carnivorekitty, I only saw a definite yes to fanART in your FAQ. If this isn't ok, let me know and I'll take it down!)

[killpilled]

it didn't feel like a studio mandate to me the problem is that they kinda wrote themselves into a corner by having the show center on their relationship and timeline vise they don't interact until rhaenyra takes kl but narratively they kinda need to interact (although imo it would have been more powerful to have them not interact for a season and have them meet in kl after rhaenyra takes it but whatever...) if i'm being perfectly honest most of the rhaenicent stuff this season felt shoehorned in and a bit on the nose

i mean i don't know if it was a studio mandate, it just feels like the narratively less bold choice to me and since alicent and rhaenyra feature so heavily in the marketing, i could imagine that some guy gave a note for an early draft that said they had to meet at least once.

but it absolutely does feel shoe-horned in and honestly, i don't think they've even written themselves into a corner. all of season 1 was those two interacting, so i think exploring other character dynamics would have been (and was) very interesting (see rhaenyra/jace, corlys/alyn, alicent/criston). they haven't even been apart for very long, i think viserys' death was canonically only weeks ago? rhaenyra has plenty of reason to not want to talk to alicent and vice versa after blood & cheese.

i think it is bold to have alicent realize that she started a war bc of a *misunderstanding* but she didn't need rhaenyra for that realization. she has the dagger after all. and giving aegon up... that's the meeting that probably makes the most sense narratively? but it feels very rushed. as you said, i think a reunion after the fall of king's landing would have been narratively stronger and made more sense in universe.

also this whole insistence on women being more peaceful, more sensitive and better communicators is also a detriment to the show bc both their agency and motivations always hinge on Not Doing Something

[litteraturhistorikeren]

Jeg sidder og græder i bussen på vej til lufthavnen. Det har været sådan nogle fantastiske dage med min finske bartender.

Jeg ankom torsdag, og vi tog hen på en bar til et stock market bar event, hans ven afholdt. Bagefter var der karaoke, som finnerne elsker. Min finske bartender kan virkeligt synge, og han endte med at overtale mig til at synge karaoke med ham, det havde jeg aldrig prøvet før.

Fredag var en tømmermændsdag. Vi puttede, havde fantastisk sex, så film og bestilte pizza.

Lørdag var en travl dag. Først tog jeg hen for at se på en lejlighed, som var helt perfekt (jeg burde høre fra ham, der fremlejer den, i denne uge eller næste, så kryds fingre for mig!). Derefter tog min finske bartender med mig hen, da jeg skulle tatoveres. Om aftenen tog vi i svensk teater med nogle af hans venner og så en musical, så spiste vi sen aftensmad, bare han og jeg, og tog endelig ud til et psy-rave lidt udenfor centrum. Også en ny oplevelse for mig, vi var først hjemme kl 9 om morgenen. Vi havde så mange gode snakke undervejs.

Søndag var også en slappedag, og mandag (i går) sov vi længe, før vi tog hen for at kigge på julemarked. Bagefter tog vi hen for at hænge ud med nogle af hans venner i et fælleslokale, hvor de havde gang i noget techno, så min finske bartender skulle også lige vise mig sine dj-skills.

Jeg kunne ikke sove i nat. Vi har fortalt hinanden, at vi elsker hinanden, og jeg lå bare i hans arme og tænkte på, at der nu går (forhåbentligt kun) seks uger, før jeg ser ham igen. Her til morgen lavede han morgenmad og en madpakke til turen til mig. Sneen falder over Finland. Vi kyssede farvel ved bussen, og han hviskede i mit øre, at han elsker mig. Jeg begyndte at græde, så snart jeg trådte på bussen

[drdepper]

Harveston Kelkkarotu/Sledathon and Finnish representation🇫🇮

Hello!

Now that i've finally played through the whole event, i want to talk about all the finnish inspirations and representation i've found in this event, and there is a lot of it!

I'm finnish (Finland swede to be exact) myself why would i else be making this hehe

This is the most proper finnish rep i've ever seen aside from Lotte and her home in little witch academia. And to also make something clear, Sami rep ≠ finnish rep and vice versa, to not intertwine these two.

And before we start, because swedish traditions have as well been mixed into this event, i will be color coding anytime i'm talking about something Finnish and something Swedish

Alright lets get to it!｡･:*:

First thing's first, the name for this event that they used in the JP server, Kelkkarotu, is made up of two actual finnish words, Kelkka (sleigh, sled) & Rotu (race)

All tho the word rotu is a word used more for breeding, like ex. A dog race, while kilpailu would've been more appropriate for a sled race. Either way i think this was a really neat addition and am sad that it wasn't carried over to the EN server :,)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mount Moln

The game is correct that the word translates to cloud, but moln is actually swedish, the word for cloud in Finnish would've been pilvi.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marja

The name Marja means berry! But it is as well a pretty normal finnish name that you could find someone have.

I love meemaw Marja so much, she reminds me of my own grandma💙

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Kokko market

once again the translation is correct. Kokkon are usually seen around easter or midsummer, but can also been done off of those holidays.

It is also really common to find plenty of different home made sweets at the markets depending on what holiday or season is going on. As well as handmade wooden things, some more useful such as butter knives, spoons and cups, But also decorations or souvenirs.

I'm so happy they mentioned it as it was something i was NOT expecting.

within Finland (and a few other countries) we have a thing called jokamiehenoikeudet/allemansrätt/everyman's right. Which as Epel describes it you're free to roam public or private forests and nature, pick berries and mushrooms as well, but it all to be done respectfully of course. You are not to disturb the wildlife or nature by ex. being unnecessarily loud, breaking plants or trashing nature. i as well really love how Epel brought up when Grim wanted to go get some himself, that he was not gonna get squat from the villagers. Cus once berry and mushroom picking season is amongst us, it's on.

A user made a fantastic post Here listing each plant Jade mentioned, and safe to say every single one can be found in Finland (an other nordic countries). Seen them all myself too! (also who brought the nestle??)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fika/kahvi

Even tho the idea of sitting down to enjoy some sweet treats originates from Sweden's fika, it is still very common within Finland as well!

we call it kahvi/kaffe and it's the same idea of sitting down for a cup of coffee with family or friends and enjoying some cookies and other goods. We usually do it on the weekends or free days in our family, or anytime we visit someone or vise versa.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Foods

As again, the sandwhich cake (voileipäkakku/smörgåstårta) originates from Sweden, you will still find it at ex. Finnish family gatherings, birthday parties or other events.

FISH SOUP!

Due to the amount of lakes an water that makes up Finland, fishing is very common here and so is the food. The most common type of fish soup that you'll have here is lohikeitto (salmon soup).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Respect for the elderly/seniors

this is definitely a stretch on my part but still think it's fun to mention^^

in finnish we have a thing called 'Teitittely', it's hard to explain as it it is not used in the english language, but rather than directly referring to you (sinä) we use a more indirect 'you' (te) to show respect for our elderly and other occasions. If or once they would prefer the person to stop, they just need to request that there is no need to be as formal.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Pancakes

Again was very surprised out of all things that they referenced a type of pancake we have here (pannukakku which literally translates to pancake)

The pancakes that Epel is talking about look like this, and are put into the oven. it's hard to describe the texture of the inside, like a really soft sponge?

On the topic of pancakes~ i want to also mention the ones that we saw at Kokko market (that the bois mistook for takoyaki), all tho i have never seen or heard of pancakes being done the way they were in the event, during autumn or colder seasons if there is a market you will usually find at least one stall making flat (lettu) pancakes on a big pan!

which you can then buy and fill however you like. The most common fillings are apple- and strawberry jam, and/or whipped cream. And some even add sugar to them. People like to roll them up and either eat them by hand or cut in slices, kind of resembling a cinnamon roll.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Extra thoughts

I won't be commenting anything when it comes to the clothing, as it seems that they are loosely inspired by traditional Sami attire. And not being Sami myself or having any relations to it i am in no place to comment about the rep.

but the embroidery on the outfits are a really nice and familiar touch^^

The backgrounds were lovely and had a very cozy feel to them, but didn't find any particular reference or inspiration of note.

Even tho the mix up of swedish and finnish traditions most likely was an accident, aside from mount moln it still works in our favor! be that if Epel is finnish or hecc, even a finland swede!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

But thank you for listening to me ramble on about the rep, i was genuinely surprised on how MUCH of it there was in this. If you have any questions please feel free to ask and i'll do my best to answer!

take care everyone💙

[zot3-flopped]

https://www.tumblr.com/seasurfacefullofclouds1/736770141457678336/this-is-what-i-dont-understand-what-is-this-one

I would argue that this mindset, that ANY of the 1d guys """"betrayed"""" each other, is way more delusional than thinking that they're on neutral/friendly terms now. Does this conspiracist remember that all of the guys auditioned as SOLOISTS and were FORCED into a band? That they weren't the best of friends for years and decided to start a band together? 1d was the same as going to college and getting 4 roommates. You will get along, or not, and you have no obligation to be friends. Why did Harry, or Zayn, have to have "loyalty" to Louis, or Niall, or Liam, or vise versa. They were at best friendly co-workers, and the "brothers for life bffs" was pure band marketing. But it's funny how Sea still can't see that. It wasn't a crime for Harry to be dreaming about a solo career, that's what they all wanted when they auditioned for txf. Then Louis realized he was making tons of money being a backup singer in 1d, he never wanted that to end.

Sea would not be talking about betrayal if Louis had Harry's career. She'd say she was happy that 1d broke up when it did, whoever initiated it. She's not happy with the half sold arenas and genuinely believes Louis should be headlining Reading and selling out Wembley Stadium, and that weak singles like Bigger than Me are better than As It Was.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

(Yes you reblogged memes but...sort of wanted an official meeting ask before the dynamite coffin🤣)

Springrose became a ghost town after the Orphan returned to take revenge on the superstitious townfolk encouraged by their preacher to murder her family. They long forgotten her name, her face; nobody knew Death was riding into the town on an oil slick black horse. Most tales focus on the spreading fire; just like how her house burned. Others lay the weight on the act of hanging the preacher. Some mention both. What remains the same in each version is the endorsed murder, the arrival of the gunfighter more than a decade ago to settle a long overdue debt and her disappearance after.

Springcreek was established around 50 miles away, survivors afraid of her possible return even though it has been over a hundred years. Many swore they saw a ghost, a wraith with the same horse as the orphan turned gunslinger in the abandoned town. A few, extremely brave people has left flowers, small trinkets near the once beautiful burned down house as condolences.

“I have seen men almost driven mad by lust.” the voice mused from a shadowy corner of the saloon after observation, one loud clank of steel heels as the other foot was set down

“Also familiar with the phrase ‘good enough to eat’, but.” there was always a but whenever she intervened “You seem to take that saying quite literally from what I see in your gaze.” and the woman leaned forward, pure ivory strands of hair falling from her hat, her eyes perhaps too bright emerald that almost seemed to glow in the setting dusk.

“It couldn't be that long time, stranger.” it could be said the newcomer can be considered a fine man appearance vise, surely working girls would even fight for his attention in any establishment. “And this area has an already bloody history, sure the locals already told their ghost stories. No need to add an another one.” soft spoken yet firm, not a threat, barely skirting a warning. Only her stare was akin to being caught in the crosshair, quite literally with the scarring around her right eye.

Inhuman green eyes people watched as if he were looking over feast instead of human beings. Yet, a voice managed to reach him through the noise of the ruckus. He sat with no drink infront of him, but full glass of water untouched. ( Un touched water.. in the desert??? )

Tortuga or Tombstone, Norrington saw these rowdy folk the same as pirates. They were the same rogues and ne'er-do-wells, just with a different accent.

Yet someone had noticed the vampire, her voice was exotic and cut through the minutia.

He listened to her words, each one a precise observation that struck at the heart of his condition. The mention of men driven mad by lust and the unsettling glint in her eyes spoke volumes about her experience and the battles she had fought.

Approaching her table, with a deliberate grace, the floorboards creaked under his boots. His gaze met hers—bright emerald eyes that seemed to pierce through the dusk matching the neon of his own, brought out by her very presence, the vampiric nature of him .

"I appreciate the poetry, Miss, but I'm not in the market for a lecture on my appetites, literal or otherwise."

He crosses his arms leaning back, hat tipped back. His voice-- accent too posh and English to be a cowpoke.

"Your insight is sharp," he admitted, steady and measured. " I've no doubt this town has seen its share of darkness, but I assure you, I am not here to add to its legends." Although the lost Dutchman mine in the superstitions did pique the pirate he was once and he would be adding to the blood spilled. There was no getting away from that.

[f0point5]

Idk if this is more to bring in more od the American crowd or not, but so many funny things happened media vise.//

American here. We don’t want all the bs either. We think it’s just as stupid as you do. I’ve said since the race was announced that this feels like someone that’s never meet an American took every stereotype possible to create some weird fever drive version of an American-land theme park; but completely failed. Like they can’t even claim that it’s camp at this point. And don’t get me started on how expensive the whole thing was. I live on the east coast and it would have been cheaper for me to attend either Monza or Zandvoort instead of Vegas. I honestly don’t know who this race was marketed towards but it wasn’t us.

Yeah I feel like Americans are getting a bad rap here and they’re just using “American” as a synonym for tacky at this point which is hardly fair