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thehillsvetclinic · 1 year ago

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The Hills Vet Clinic- Pet Day Care Clinic Dubai | Vet Clinic Dubai

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In conclusion

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cuntylouis · 5 months ago

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2.07 made it more clear than ever that everyone in the story (except perhaps Madeleine) views Claudia as a symbol for something rather than really seeing her. The scene where Louis is dragging Claudia on the floor like a doll begging Lestat to look at their 'beautiful little daughter' is both heartbreaking and deeply unsettling. This young girl who Louis doesn't even know is given the impossible weight of being everything to Louis; his light and redemption, replacement for his sister, fulfilling his longing to have children and to take care of something, his friend and confidante, fixing his relationship with Lestat, proving that living as a vampire could be worth it, giving him happiness and purpose. She called Louis an angel and saw something good and beautiful in him when Louis himself felt there was none, so Louis desperately hopes that he can be her savior and she can be his.

For Lestat she's something that keeps Louis tied to him, and to the world and vampirism and existence itself. He spitefully tells Claudia to come home and make Louis happy - because it's her purpose. Lestat sees himself in Claudia and detests it, but as he says he also sees his best vampiric self in her and is proud of it. Louis and Lestat both love Claudia deeply but i think they also see her as a living physical symbol of their eternal connection to each other, their union and its breakdown, and all their shame and guilt. In the modern day Louis' house in Dubai is like a mausoleum built for the memory of Claudia - and himself.

In Paris she's forced to assume the role of a little girl over and over again, the audience loving her but only the image of her that doesn't really exist. To the coven she ends up meaning everything they despise and on her last day she's completely dehumanized. In the book Armand says "I never loved her. I didn't know how", and i think that's reflected in the show too. I don't think Armand felt much toward Claudia other than resentment and something almost like fear, and that's what allows him to kill her with such coldness. Claudia is a living obstacle to his relationship with Louis, and like Lestat i think he's uncomfortable with seeing himself and his trauma and pain in Claudia.

But i think above all Armand too sees her as the embodiment of the connection and love between Louis and Lestat. I think Armand views Claudia first and foremost as Lestat's child and an extension of him, particularly obvious from the scene where he calls her Claudia de Lioncourt, and he's reminded of Lestat every time he looks at her. It doesn't matter if Claudia was going to leave with Madeleine, even if she and Louis never met again. As long as Claudia exists Louis will never be fully his, because he's connected to Lestat through her and thus belongs to Lestat. Claudia must be destroyed so that connection can be severed

#i've seen many people wondering why armand wants to kill claudia in the show when she doesn't pose a threat to his relationship with louis #but i really think that for armand it's that simple that he thinks her mere existence is a threat #because she's a symbol for something he hates and fears #iwtv #iwtv spoilers #iwtvposting

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alienpossession · 3 months ago

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Another continuation of the Dubai alien series

The model-bodybuilder Sander woke up from his proper sleep feeling refreshed. He opened the curtain to let the sunshine in as he walked around his apartment with no clothes whatsoever. After quick stretching session and several minutes of posing in the mirror, he walked past his sleeping bodyguard. He got the bodyguard as part of the scheme he worked on with the Prince as the alien that is now residing inside Sander has too close of an attachment with this particular bodyguard back when he was still a Prince, so he asked the new Prince to allow the bodyguard to be working for him still.

Sander wakes the bodyguard up, and with no hesitation, the fresh-from-slumber bodyguard quickly kneel and started kissing Sander's pubes. His tongue quickly explored the bushy and musky hair of his beloved Master before gently gliding across the veinous shaft of the bodybuilding powerhouse. Sander grunted in approval as his half-chubbed up cock started to snake into its full length, the tip emerged from the foreskin as it revealed its massive mushroom-head form that the bodyguard quickly serviced with his slick tongue. When he eventually made the move to let the 7.5 inches girthy monstrosity entered his mouth, Sander lost in euphoria as he grabbed the head of the bodyguard and jackhammered his cock deep into his throat. The majestic payload quickly released in the matter of minutes, making the devout bodyguard's throat slick with cum and his face looking like he's some kind of cum-guzzling twink when he is in fact a highly-trained martial artist and marksman that would never kneel to anyone, let alone allowing his face painted with sticky, salty cum. Satisfied, Sander gently tapped the bodyguard's face and then give him one big kiss before heading to the shower to clean himself

Sander of course didn't shower and instead basked in his glorious reflection and musky body odour.

He's going to the gym anyway so he can just shower later after his workout, so with no effort to clean himself thoroughly, he just wiped away some of the drying cum all over his body before donning his workout clothes

When he arrived at the gym, he started to put on the work, putting his muscle under so much stress, the veins started to pop and his grunts become increasingly louder as he racked up more weights and intensity to all his routine. As he just finished with hitting his personal best deadlift and decided to call it a day, he returned the massive weights to the rack and that's when his eyes caught on the two young studs he has not yet converted.

Newcomer? Tourist? Yeah, seemed like a fine looking pair of fit tourists. Based on the language spoken, these tourists came from Turkey but the way they talked, there's that unmistakably Germanic tonality to it, so....Turkish diaspora living in Germany then? Well, no need to guess, he will find out by himself when he shoves the slugs later to takeover their young brain.

So, what is the Prince really up to while his operatives worked to convert people left and right?

Prince Rashid, the eldest son of the local mid-level nobility, is looking at the alien as its tail-end finally slithered inside and left no traces behind. Then, he gently closed his tanktop back and smirked

"It's good to be back,"

The younger prince, who was practically responsible for the mass takeover of his own family, hugged his older brother as he then handed him his thobe to cover him more in-line with what an Emirati nobility should wear

"Good to have you with me here. Thanks for the fun night, it's been a while since we bonded, don't you think?"

"Will do anything for my younger bro. So, you will take care of them and all the clean-up?"

"Yeah, watch,"

The 9 Insta-hotties the young Prince called for the night suddenly wake up from their sleep and started to stand up as if they were some military recruits or something with their posture all straight and stiff. All this happened despite the fact that they were asleep soundly just mere seconds ago.

"Go clean up the apartment, whores. After that, get the fuck off from here and maybe start being useful and start marking all the men you all deemed worthy of my attention, understand?"

"Yes, my prince," all of them said in unison, their brain already fried by the slug and turned into bunch of bimbo puppets. Prince Rashid just laughed out loud

"Amazing, my Prince. Very amazing. I wish you would be generous enough one day to use my body to give such command, you know I'm more brutal than my younger brother. I'm quite the abusive jerk, even to my harem, let alone European whores like them,"

"Well, respectfully, I'm not really into all that. Besides, what's the point of you being all mighty and aggressive when you cannot even defend yourself by the end and turned into mere puppets anyway? Go get back home to your wife and kids before I humiliate you further, I don't want to see you anymore tonight," the tone of the young Prince quickly turned sharp with anger as he felt like his own subject dared to question his power and how far he could take things

The possessed Prince Rashid tried to be playful as he lightly punched the young prince on his shoulder while saying

"That's not how a younger brother addre---"

"Just get the fuck out before I make you soil your clothes with gallons of cum till your balls dry, I'm not in the mood for jokes," threatened the main alien using its real, coarsed voice. The older prince quickly retreated himself out from the penthouse in fear of triggering his progenitor's anger, while the younger prince sighed, feeling like in need of a new learning adventure and a form that will be more respected or provided him with excitement and thrilling life choices. That's when he remembered about the intel he already asked for Steven Barnett and all the preparation in regards to his takeover. Yup, that sounds hella tasty, slipping inside the son-in-law of an active General with strategic position in the United States? Maybe it's about time he executed the transference, it's been almost 2 weeks that Steven and his wife spent their time here, it wouldn't be too long before his return to the states. Looking at his phone, 5:44 AM, there's definitely still enough time for him to make the move right around this morning. But, it means he should really share the directives to the puppets all at once, the Prince cannot risk Steven to be able to get away from this. As the Prince stretched his body, he then sits down and decided to concentrate and pulling all the available memories from all the puppets that could be useful for the plan to succeed

As expected, Steven walked into the trap set-up by the aliens as he went to the gym recommended by them, not knowing it's basically a hub for puppets

The gym is surprisingly quiet despite the fact that it's morning in the weekend, but Steven is definitely not complaining. In fact, it makes the whole thing so much easier for him as he spent all his time to workout and not wasting time with some small talks with his friends. Yes he can comfortably called them friends, but it's not always fun to always have this sense of obligation to talk to them or mingle with them when the focus is supposedly the workout, so the quietness is a welcome change, especially noting the fact that he's about to go back home to the States very early in the morning

8.50 AM and the gym is still hella empty, except a few people that he never met previously. Probably some infrequent gymgoer judging from their body shapes, but hey, it's not like he needed to judge them. After putting all the weights back to its rack, he strutted to the locker room and started stripping. He kicked off his rank, size 15 shoes away to reveal a very sweaty socked feet, which he also quickly took off and tossed to the corner of the locker room. He scrunched up his nose, he should grab that foot spray he saw yesterday in the supermarket later before heading back to the hotel. Then, he stuffed his drenched tanktop that clung to his massive body and the sweat-soaked sweatpants to his duffel bag, only leaving his sweaty underwear on as he decided to cool down a bit while doing some posing practices

Enamored by the ripple of his own muscles and the music he blasted, Steven didn't realize the swarm of men that carefully entered the locker room, led by Craig and Olly. Steven practically posed in the far-end corner of the massive gym locker room and the rows of lockers blocked his view and hearing until it's too late.

Olly was the first that made the move as his sudden appearance slightly surprised Steven. The young blondie quickly apologized and acted normally as if he just arrived for a workout while complimenting Steven's pumped physique. Then, things take a wild turn when Olly decided to say that he wanted to get a taste of Steven's sweaty ass. That surprised Steven even more as he chuckled it off trying to pass it as some crude jokes, but when Olly literally stared at him like he's some kind of prey, Steven quickly reacted with anger on how he would never swing that way and he's not gonna let any man get close to his ass or dick! To his surprise, Craig, Olly's stepbrother, grabbed Steven's ass from behind which caused the much-bigger Steven to yelp in surprise. That's when Olly marched on as his stepbrother tried to held Steven's hand. Steven fought off the two brothers and even managed to slam Olly to one of the locker before trying to make his escape. But the severity of the situation and the dawning realization that he wouldn't be able to get away from here quickly engulfed him when he's faced with the reality as swarm of fit bodybuilders and gymgoers blocking his way from both ends. He tried to reason with them, asking them to let him go and start thinking rationally, but all effort went futile as their mission were clear, to convert him per the direction of the Prince.

"Convert me to what? Islam? Fuck, are you kidding me? All this just because of some religious fanaticism?"

One of them then said

"Oh no, Steven, it's better than that,"

Alarm bells quickly rang inside Steven's mind when all the men that surrounded him smirked devilishly as they opened their mouth and then spit out some gooey black slug from their mouth to their hands. As Steven's started screaming for help, all the men tried to muffle his mouth as they thrown and even shoved the slimy black slug down Steven's throat. His scream quickly drowned by the loud cheers of men that witnessed all the slug entered Steven's body from his mouth, nose and ears and quickly trembled as the alien seized control of his brain. But, the men quickly moved over as the Prince tried to approach the convulsing Steven. He already arrived at the gym and simply cannot wait to transfer. As the Prince retched out copious amount of black slug, the one that entered Steven's whole system earlier also moved out from his body as it did its purpose already to paralyze Steven temporarily. The slugs returned back to their respective bodies while the Prince slug slithered through Steven's gaped mouth and flared nostrils. After another seizure as the slug established control over his brain, Steven opened his eyes a brand new man

Add: I think this sort of act as a closure for this particular story. But if there's anything you wanted me to whip out, like more stories on Mike, or any of the characters, hit me up and maybe I can make some spin-off or something, but only if anyone is interested

#alien possession #male possession #alien takeover #alien expansion #alien transference #male puppet #male takeover #apushforfolly #dubai alien

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fascinationstreetmp3 · 4 months ago

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i personally think something needed to understand louis, to understand his relationship with armand and his state of mind in dubai, is that he's severely depressed. and it's not just being suicidal that he struggles with because of it, it's being apathetic and numb and lethargic at one extreme; it's being reckless and angry and emotional at the other. he can spend years letting the world pass him by or years numbing himself with drugs and we've been shown both.

we've already seen armand facilitating the latter behaviour, however much he resented it— he stepped back and watched louis go on benders where he got high and fucked and killed men in the apartments they owned together, apologising for it before he doing it all over again. it was incredibly unhealthy and damaging behaviour louis was engaging in, but it kept his mind off of claudia and lestat and paris, it gave him time away from armand, it made him feel something. and even if they argued about it, armand probably never intervened the way he did until that night in 1973. we don't know how things were between them after that (from 1973 to 2022) yet.

their dynamic in dubai is partly borne of armand enabling the other extreme. louis is flat and doesn't engage with the outside world much at all, doesn't leave the house, and armand encourages this behaviour with the environment in the penthouse. he sands down rough edges, brings nature and food inside to louis, shutters the windows. he keeps anything that might disrupt this "calm" (numb) state away from him, anything that might hurt or distress him or provoke strong emotions, because in armand's mind the alternative is so much more destructive. & louis doesn't know he actually did try to kill himself in 1973, but he knows he's been suicidal multiple times before. and now he feels apathetic and empty all the time. he doesn't push back against it. he lets it happen and grows emptier every day in his safe melancholy.

and like... obviously this is not a good thing. this isn't a defense of armand's behaviour or pinning the blame on louis. armand says he "cares for louis more than he cares for himself" and "preserves louis' happiness". i think he's doing what he thinks is best for louis in dubai, but the end goal is really more what is best for himself. "happy" louis = "happy" armand, because armand is not alone. and the more detached and distracted louis is, the less he considers the past, the less he focuses on armand's role in all of it. so armand takes whatever placates louis at the time and pushes it to its extreme. and louis gets to remain numb, to not think about or reflect on memories or anything that upsets him... until his state of mind shifts in 2022, and he decides he wants to break out of this state, and he contacts daniel for a second interview.

#this got long im not expecting anyone to read all that but this is just what i think #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #armand

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thetarttfuldickhead · 6 months ago

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A week or two after the Dubai Air protest Sam happens upon Jamie lounging listlessly on a bench in the otherwise deserted gym. He’s not doing any exercise, just sitting there and staring out into nothingness with a curiously vacant look on his face.

Sam hesitates, hovering in the doorway. He’s come for a little bit of extra weights before heading home, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be here this late, least of all Jamie. It’s been a long day and Sam’s not sure if he’s up for dealing with the (possibly) reformed bully right now. Even if they are edging towards friendly, and even if that’s no small thing given what’s come between them before, there’s still an undercurrent of charged uncertainty to their interactions, a stilted hesitancy to their cautious politeness and careful attempts at casual camaraderie.

Jamie hasn’t explicitly told Sam that he’s sorry for the things he’s put him through. Sam has decided that he will not let his decision to give Jamie another chance be contingent upon this. It’s very tiring, being angry and resentful of the other’s presence: so much easier to accept the taped up logo for the peace offering it was, and let that be Jamie’s apology.

(If it rankles, it only rankles a little.)

Reminding himself of his decision to let bygones be bygones, and that they won’t ever get anywhere if they don’t actually learn to talk, Sam steps into the gym. Asks as he would any other glum-looking team mate he’d unexpectedly happened upon, “Are you all right, Jamie?”

Holds himself ready, holds himself steady, if Jamie should bare his teeth and bite, now that there’s no one around to see it.

But Jamie only starts a little, like he hadn’t noticed Sam or he’s surprised to be voluntarily addressed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, man. Great, you know. It’s just… I’m a bit tired, I guess.“ He pauses, then his face suddenly collapses and he gives Sam the most plaintive of looks. “It’s just so fucking exhausting being nice all the time. I don’t know how you do it, mate.”

Ah. Sam tactfully doesn’t say that it’s usually no effort for him and that he doesn’t really understand how it could possible come that hard for anyone.

He also doesn’t point out that not actively being mean to people isn’t quite the same as being nice.

Because Jamie is trying, isn’t he, even if it’s painfully evident that he still needs to try, that it doesn’t come quite naturally.

“Bit like when Spike had that chip in his head and had no choice but to team up with the good guys, isn’t it?” Colin had muttered a few days after their wayward striker had re-joined them, and yes, Sam had had to agree: it is a bit like that.

But there’s no chip in Jamie’s head (Sam is pretty sure). He’s here of his own free will, trying to be a good team mate and a better person because he wants to be. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?

Sam is pretty sure his dad would say it does. Sam wants to be the sort of person that lets it count.

And Jamie is looking genuinely dejected, in a way that has Sam feel a small surge of something that isn’t affection but isn’t too unlike it either. A little bit of pity mingling with amusement; enough that he’s moved to brave sitting down next to Jamie.

“Well, I have had more practise,” he says lightly. “I bet you will be really good at it if you give it a bit more time.”

“Yeah?” It’s offered casually, but there’s no disguising the faint hope in it. Sam can feel Jamie watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course,” he says, and then, feeling bold, “You are Jamie Tartt. Aren’t you good at everything?”

A pause, and Sam holds his breath, praying that Jamie will understand that he’s being teased rather than mocked—

Then Jamie snorts, a sound halfway to a chuckle. “Yeah, man,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Sam’s, very carefully. “I’ll be the fucking best at being nice. Swear down, I’ll be so good I make you look like Geezer Scrooge.”

“That, I’d like to see,” Sam says drily; says sincerely. Standing, he nods towards the weight bench. “Do you think you can be good enough not to let me be crushed to death while you spot me?”

For a moment, Jamie looks taken aback, and Sam braces himself for a snide retort to his presumption – but it doesn’t come. Instead Jaime’s face clears, and he gives a sharp nod.

“Course, mate,” he says, and rises to follow Sam.

#i absolutely think that jamie owes sam a proper apology #and that sam is EXTREMELY within his rights to take a whole lot longer warming up to jamie than he does #but sam really is the sweetest person #--to the point where he might sometimes struggle to name his anger or set boundaries--#and sometimes in the future i expect them to have a proper talk about everything #but for now have some awkward and hesitant bonding #because that is like catnip to me #and my habit was re-awakened by that gif set i reblogged earlier #sam obisanya #jamie tartt #sam & jamie #ficlet #my stuff

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its-time-to-write · 9 months ago

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please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault.

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality.

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions.

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car.

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second.

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month.

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you.

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping.

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make.

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do.

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready.

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond.

But they don’t.

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you.

It’s inevitable.

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League.

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League.

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love.

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult.

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week.

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions.

I won’t change for you.

Except you hear from him every day.

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you.

I won’t change for you.

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family.

I won’t change for you.

You never asked him to.

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now.

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible.

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks.

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen.

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently.

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend.

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head.

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me.

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone.

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy.

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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best-iwtv-scene · 2 months ago

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ROUND 1B, MATCH 8

Descriptions/Propaganda under the cut:

Dreamstat letter scene (2x02)

In an attempt to settle his paranoia over Lestat coming back for revenge, Louis visits a law firm where Lestat had his finances. To his surprise, Louis is given a letter signed by Lestat to be given to him in the event of his death. As Louis opens the letter, he hallucinates Lestat taking the paper from his hands. Dreamstat is wearing the suit he wore when going to meet the de Pointe du Lac family and he speaks the letter to Louis. The contents of the letter are hauntingly romantic, highlighting the thin line between loving devotion and possessive obsession that is inherent to the two vampires' relationship. The visit to the law firm instead increases Louis's paranoia, the letter, presumably written no longer than a few years into their relationship, sounding more threatening than affectionate due to the cause of Lestat's demise. The scene shows the fear and guilty attraction he still feels towards Lestat even years after their separation. "A veil will now forever separate our union. But it is a thin veil and I am always on the other side... face pressed up against your longing."

Propaganda:

I died. that's it, that's the propaganda

Submitted by @jameslongforjimshortforgabriel

Claudia’s turning revisited (2x07)

As Lestat recounts his perception of events on the night of Claudia's turning, it switches between the trial in Paris, the interview in Dubai and the night in New Orleans, playing quite differently from in 1x04. Lestat describes a greatly distressed Louis begging him to turn the young girl into a vampire, despite Lestat's warning about the 'Great Laws' and the pain it will cause them all. Louis, in his desperation, manipulates Lestat into turning Claudia, promising he will never leave Lestat if he does this one thing. In Paris, Louis objects to this version of events, loudly denying it as Claudia looks at him, unsure what to believe. In Dubai, Louis, with some difficulty, admits that Lestat's recollection was more accurate. The scene is disturbing, particularly due to the way Claudia is treated. The young girl, practically a stranger to Louis and Lestat, is dragged along the floor and treated like an object, or something to aid them, either in their relationship or personally. Additionally, in his guilt over admitting the truth of events, present-day Louis looks over to Dreamstat sitting across from him in the Dubai apartment, the only time such a thing happens in the show so far. "She will be at war with herself. She is of an age where her emotions will soar and plummet, mountains and valleys every day of her life!" "I don't care!" "Well, you must care! [...] And she will be miserable and you will love her!"

Propaganda:

No propaganda was submitted for this scene.

#best iwtv scene poll #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #claudia iwtv #claudia #tumblr polls #poll tournament #round 1

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months ago

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"If they divorce, Harry doesn’t have any money to give (or it’s all tied up in assets), but his daddy has money and that’s probably Meghan would target, since The Queen paid for Charles’s and Andrew’s settlements and she sees Harry being in the same position (the son of the monarch)."

I know it's hairsplitting because ultimately you might be right, but The Queen didn't pay Charles's divorce beyond giving him a loan which he had to pay back - source: his own lawyer who talked about it in an interview in 2004. The duchy of Cornwall was off limits as far as wealth assessments, so Charles had to come up wiyh money from his personal money.

Sidenote: considering his annual income from the duchy, Charles lifestyle must be so excessive that he struggled to settle the paltry £17M divorce bill.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1467785/Diana-took-Charles-to-cleaners-in-divorce-says-his-banker.html

Meanwhile, Andrew's settlement was unusual because on the one hand it was based on his personal fortune sans trusts and salary as a naval officer, but on the other, Andrew was favoured son AND the divorce was forced by The Queen against the wishes of Andrew and Sarah so i think her decision to pay the divorce bill by settling trusts on the 2 daughters and allowing Sarah to move back in with Andrew was from personal feeling.

Markle is at the opposite end of the scale as far as familial affection from Charles OR William. Further, no one in the family knows or cares about the children. There are no emotive reasons to support them.

Finally, in the past decade, it's been established innthe British courts that family wealth of royals can't be used as the basis for a divorce claim even where the kids are firmly inside the family circle.

The best example of this is Tessy of Luxemborg who lived the ultra wealthy life as a royal wife for a decade, but upon her divorce, she was left with nothing and her kids were granted peanuts on the level of £3000 per month / kid. She tried to argue that her hubby might not have personal wealth, but he received an allowance in the millions from the family which was uber wealthy.

The other example is Haya of Dubai. Superficially, her settlement is huge to the tune of half a billion pounds, but when you break it down, you realise that she also got peanuts and 90% of the settlement was to cover a lifetime of security for her and her kids because her ex-husband was deemed a clear and present danger to her and her kids for their lifetimes and she would need the kind of security that matched his own to keep them safe.

***

Definitely give the Telegraph article a read. It has some good details about the Charles/Diana divorce.

(Anon included a big chunk of it in their submission that I removed for copyright reproduction concerns - I remember the early days around here when Sussex Squad was getting blogs shut down over reproducing copyrighted text.)

Here’s the archived link for anyone without a Telegraph subscription.

#brf #diana

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robertruder · 11 months ago

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#Best Dog Daycare in Dubai #Doggie Day Care #dog food in Dubai

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sunny44 · 2 years ago

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Date night

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: nothing.

Summary: Y/n and Lewis have their monthly date night.

Ps: sorry for the short story

Lewis and I had been together for 4 years and I have nothing to complain about.

He is the most perfect man I’ve ever met in my entire life.

The kisses all over my face every morning when we were together, the hugs from behind that make me feel at home, the single flower that he gave me every day that I press in a book and am putting in a frame, the times that at a family lunch when he is talking to my parents he passes by me and gives me a kiss on the forehead just to show that even if we are apart at that moment he is still paying attention and taking care of me.

And that's why every month we had a special date, we picked a day when we were both together and we went out to enjoy each other's company.

This was the last weekend of the race, we were in Dubai and it would be our last date of the year. I had chosen a green dress that looked like Tinker bell's, I had found it some time ago and decided to leave it for our last meeting of the year.

The podium today was Lewis, Charles and Max and with this last victory Lewis became 8 times Formula 1 world champion so it was another reason to celebrate.

Lewis had showered first so that I could have the bathroom to myself and put on makeup without him seeing me before I was completely ready.

As soon as I finished I looked at myself in the mirror once more and came out of the bathroom seeing my boyfriend sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room playing on his cell phone but he looked away from the screen as soon as he heard the bathroom door open and then smiled and stood up.

"Wow you look gorgeous."

"Thanks, you look perfect too." He smiles and holds my waist with his hands.

"Can we go? We have a lot to celebrate."

"We can."

We went to the restaurant he had chosen and made a reservation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, it's this way." They led us to an outside area with a table just for the two of us which I thought was odd since we usually sat with the other people just in a more private corner to avoid people getting in the way.

"Are we sit alone today?" he pulled out a chair for me.

"Yes, why you didn't like it?"

"It's not that, I loved it, I just asked because you usually like to act normal and sit with everyone." He laughs.

"And I do but today I wanted to do something different since it's an important celebration."

"Absolutely, it's not every day that you become 8th time formula one world champion and breaking a record." I smiled at him who held my hand.

"Absolutely."

"Are you okay? You seem a little nervous."

"I'm fine yes just still can't believe all this happened today."

We ordered our food and had one of the best dinners ever, the night was beautiful with the star’s in the sky making everything even more perfect.

"Hey." He calls out to me and I looked up at him. "You are without a doubt the love of my life, I have never loved anyone the way I love you and I can't even imagine my life without you in it. Not many people can adapt with a hectic life like us driver’s and I thank you so much that besides you’re supporting me you are always there for me when I need you."

"Love you know I would do anything for you."

"With that said I want to ask you a question." I nodded and he reached up and took something from his pocket and knelt down in front of me. "Would you make me the happiest man in the world by marrying me?"

At this I started to cry and nodded my head in agreement.

"There is nothing I want more in the world than to be your wife." He smiled placing the ring on my finger and we both stood up and I slung my arms around his shoulders and kissed him. "Thank you for choosing me to be your wife."

"Thank you for choosing me to be your husband."

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram post

Liked by @lewishamilton, @yourmom, @georgerussel and other 91727

Yourusername today the love of my life asked me to be his wife. I can’t imagine my life without you in it and I’m so grateful for you.

I can’t wait to be Mrs Hamilton.

Tagged: @lewishamilton

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alarici · 1 month ago

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State of decay

Rated T, 950 words

In the years since the Kira case, with Near at the helm, and L and Watari long since buried in the plot beside the west wing, what was once called The Wammy’s House decays.

It takes seven years to fully dismantle the program. The youngest children need to find foster homes or new families or other, carefully vetted, well-funded programs to matriculate into. The older children are graduated and placed in the best universities around the world—set to become the everyday successes of tomorrow. Tsinghua, Juilliard, Cairo, LSE, UCLA, Tohoku, ETH Zurich, Oxford. The residual funds are allocated appropriately to make sure that everyone is well taken care of. Study funds and stipends, merit grants and insurance.

Personally, Near sees to the edge cases. Kids who, according to the headmasters and the instructors, never lived up to the promise of their aptitude testing—the weak, the attention deficit, the headcases. He speaks to each one—Do you want to live alone? Do you want to learn a skill and work? Do you want to go back to where they found you? What are your medical needs.

It’s dispassionate work that he takes on in his limited spare time. The dismantling of the program was not necessarily his idea, but he saw it to the end.

By 2024, L Lawliet has been dead for almost two decades. Enough time for a child to grow and have a child of their own. Near has no children—will never and can never—and finds this fact amusing.

At exactly 13:23 GMT on 21 October, 2024, Near celebrates a homecoming of sorts.

—

The grounds have been left to wither. The estate is unsellable—or, nobody wants to bother selling it to a Silicon valley expat or a London financier’s portfolio. After all, it was a school. Renovations would be required.

When Near is driven into town and left there—”I’ll get there from here, thank you,”—he overhears, in a quiet cafe, that the children think the mansion on the hill is haunted. “Halloween” is an American holiday that is not celebrated in England. The evening is foggy and limpid. The sky threatens an afternoon rain.

He arrives at the wrought iron gates at 15:13. He knows there is nothing for him, here. But he’s already been given this time to pay his respects. A holiday of sorts. Never in the past twenty years has he kneeled before graves. He expects he won’t today, either. There is nobody here to pay respects to. Mello is buried in an unmarked plot in a quiet district of Tokyo. The stake on the eastern edge of the property in Winchester—In Memoriam, Mihael Keehl—is growing moss. Near stops by this landmark, first. Many colleagues and coworkers, commanding officers and cadets, have died since Mello. Near has not kept track of many of their names.

Mello’s memorial has not been cared for. They stopped sending groundskeepers to the property in 2019. Near carries a book in one hand, his plastic cane in the other. He stares at the spike, leans on the arm brace, and considers the most respectful acknowledgment of this memorial. This isn’t what he came here to do. Mihael Keehl—no, Mello—has been dead for more than a decade. In that time, Near has solved more than five hundred cases. A-Kira. The Hong Kong murders. The Dubai trafficking ring. A few stray Death Notes.

In the years elapsed, the loss has simmered. Like soup, which Near has seen others make (his current boyfriend is fond of cutting the mirepoix into centimeter by centimeter cubes) the thought of Mello is turbid and wafts around him constantly. However, there is no room for the what if. There is only the course the universe bent, that day.

Near, in his own way, has paid his respect. Said his thank yous, if he owes any thanks. He bows, as far as he can manage, to the spiritless grave. He does not kneel.

In Tokyo, Mello’s bones are likely rusting, rotting in the temperate soil. Were he buried here, at 51° latitude, he may still have his skin, in death. But this is unimportant. He would not wish to be buried here.

Near bows, and says two prayers for the dead. He knows a Latin version as well as a Hebrew. To this day, he does not know if Mello died religious—died believing in any gods beyond those he had met and been scorned by.

“Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.”

“יִתְגַּדַּל וְיִתְקַדַּשׁ שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא.”

He adds a hymn Mello might have sung for his parents in the dialect he most likely spoke before his life as a successor began.

“Святой Юмо, Святой Куатле, Святой Колыдымо, мемнам серлаге.”

Near has been told not to pass judgment on the irrationality of faith, so he has learned the hymns. The grass grows tall around Mello’s stake.

One year, Near had gotten angry about it. Back when he was twenty one or twenty two—inconsequential—and awake for forty hours, Near had raged at a silent room over it, and never again. And the anger was not about the death, nor about Near’s inheritance, his duty. Not Mello’s mistakes nor his sacrifice. Likely, looking back with the hindsight and wisdom of a man ten years older, Near images he experienced as much grief as he was capable of, that night. There was no grave to stand over, and there was no body, in the small room in Cape Canaveral when Near was twenty one. No surviving images of him. No letters nor notebooks. The bout of rage, insanity, grief (he cautions to call it) was triggered by a smell (something sweet burning), of all things. And had subsided with the yellow dawn.

The frustration was likely at being left alone. Of his own inefficacy in his first trial, and the acknowledgement that a man like Mello had deserved to live to see more days. Had deserved better than a pine wood stake on a lonely corner of the grounds of the school where he was raised and an unmarked plot in Adachi City, Tokyo.

Next, Near walks slowly towards the house itself. A jackrabbit sprints across the lawn in front of him. A hawk circles to the north.

#death note #near death note #nate river #wip

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betterbemeta · 9 months ago

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As it is right now, machine learning image generation is classist. It depends strongly on the human audience's eye for pareidolia to smooth over its inconsistencies and find patterns in its noise where its procedural generation falls short.

This means that the less opportunity a person has to gain context for information, the more likely 'AI art' is to be convincing. As long as that person has been given a baseline to 'believe' the general arrangement of elements, AI art will 'make sense' even if that baseline is just exposure to more acontextual imagery. Which is what the machine learning's algorithms were trained on in the first place.

For example, 'AI' right now struggles to coherently depict plants. When it's not blurry, indistinct plant fur, leaves from different kinds of plants appear on the same stem, plants from the wrong biome are included in 'nature' images. Someone who has very little educational opportunity, but has seen movies where people walk through jungles or forests as set pieces or something, might not notice the difference. And why do you 'need' to know if the plants look right, poor person; you'll never leave your immediate area or take a biology class!

Someone without the opportunity or comfort to travel might not recognize that a cityscape has been artificially generated, depicts no actual real-world city. Is that supposed picture of Dubai or New York City or Cairo showing a real place that exists? Who cares, you're too poor to ever go there.

Searching for information about animal species, even, can get messed up by generated 'content.' Do servals have ear tufts? What kind of insect is that? What species of lizard or snake am I looking at? You don't deserve to know what kinds of animals are real. What time do you have to go to a zoo, if there's even one around you?

The less money you have, the more likely you are to be surrounded by advertising and "AI Art" is ideal for advertising because it only tells a very simple story at best. There's no complicated human emotions; its literally made of averages of what has been seen before. Marketing and advertising content often replaces actual art that might be a window into a greater world. It may even just be dropped in there to fill the awkward silence or blankness that would have otherwise surrounded marketing efforts-- commercials would be surreal without some say-nothing 'music' track behind them, and billboards would be creepy without the graphic noise that surrounds the product and its information. Someone who passes through more monetized public spaces per day will see more of it than someone who inhabits private property.

And like, at the end of the day if you are wealthy... you probably don't care about any of this. You have access to whatever you want, so why do you care what's real? You trust you can 'pay for' the real thing, right?

Plus, who knows the economic status of who generated imagery the machine learning algorithms train on? It's all stolen.

Photography has been critical in modern history for bringing 'the world' across social divisions of class, race, geographical divides. Photographers and filmmakers, along with other visual artists as well as musicians, writers, and journalists associated with all of these disciplines give us lenses, framing, voices, and perspectives to understand our greater world no matter where we are. Hell, identifying the human intentions BEHIND those lenses, framings, voices is key to our development. No matter your circumstances, with a strong grasp of media literacy anyone can sit down and say, wait a minute, is this real, would it be true for me too? Or is this someone's point of view?

To the point of view of wealth and capital, the working class and those without wealth who cannot work (disabled people, displaced people, homeless people shut out of employment, and more) do not deserve to know about reality. To that point of view, nonwealthy people don't deserve to even know who created the perspectives they're allowed to see. You can be born, get trained to work, go to work, come home to the minimum, repeat, and die having seen no images of reality for all they care. They'd like that! How can you dream of something outside the current exploitative structure if you can't even trust you know what plants and animals and cities look like, outside your tiny box?

#long post #AI art #machine learning #something something the matrix

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strophalosx3 · 3 months ago

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My straight crack ships Tekken ❤️

I've always liked to ship characters that have chemistry, things in common, that their personalities fit and not just because they've interacted once. This happens to me a lot in Tekken. That's why I have a lot of crack ships. So I'm going to describe some HC later on about why these ships can work and match.

●Bryan Fury x Azucena M. Ortiz

They're a cliche.

The popular girl x the bad boy.

The businesswoman and the loser.

The Latina and her American boyfriend.

The rich girl x the bodyguard.

They are both on Kazuya's team. She is very hyperactive and a bit crazy. But she is capable of anything to get what she wants even if it means creating chaos and destruction. She will watch from a chair with a cup of coffee. He loves chaos and loneliness. But he recognizes when a woman is strong and can be a good opponent. Another day I will write HC about them. I love them and I have already started drawing them. I want you to love them!!

●Miguel Caballero x Katarina Alves

They are both rebellious, impulsive and super sexy.

She is the popular girl and the lone wolf.

She is a supermodel and he is a rock star.

She is an office worker and he works in construction.

They both share disastrous family stories. She is alone, she lost her adoptive father, she has nothing. He lost his sister and even though he has more family he doesn't want to know about them. Sharing these experiences brings them closer until they connect in such a way that they become family. He will protect her with his life and she will not allow anything bad to happen to him. Their conversations always go beyond 3am.

I'd like to draw more of them. They look so good together.

● Shaheen x Zafina

They both speak the same language and share a culture. They are also clichés.

She is Scheherazade and Alibaba. She is Jasmine and he is Aladdin.

She is the card-reading witch and he is a frequent customer.

She is the strange girl in class who likes esotericism and he is part of the rugby team.

She loves the stars and he is an astronaut.

She is a dangerous woman, a femme fatale, a murderer and very wise. However, she has an empty, cold heart. She has suffered a lot since she was a child. He had a normal life until he lost his best friend with whom he had a strong bond. She is lonely and grey, but her esoteric life gives her happiness. Shaheen is attracted not only by her beauty, but by the curiosity and mystery she projects. He knows how to approach her, he is always careful and patient. Zafina has wounds and a broken heart because of Lars. She and Saheen become friends. Maybe one day they will live in Dubai. They both deserve to be happy.

#tekken #tekken 8 #tekken 7 #hc #head canon #azucena #bryan fury #bryan x azucena #miguel x katarina #miguel caballero rojo #zafina (tekken)#zafina #shaheen #shaheen x zafina #azucena milagros ortiz castillo #katarina alves

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