#exhibition planning

[tradeshowexhibitsdisplays]

Explore essential insights about exhibition planning and trade show characteristics that shape business networking opportunities. This guide clarifies unique features, audience targeting approaches, and strategic setup considerations for each event format. Industry professionals share expertise on maximizing engagement at both marketing platforms.

[exhibitionstandfabrication]

Discover how to create the right brief for successful exhibition planning. Ensure your event stands out with clear goals and effective strategies.

[xochimillilili]

Kinktober day 3: Public play

I want to go on a cute drive in horror movie date with my precious love. All dolled up, cuddly and giggly, before they slowly get more and more scared throughout the film

Slowly pull my love on my lap as the movie goes on. Help them climb onto me, kiss them gentle and whisper it's alright I've got you, as I wrap my arms around their waist. Hug them safe and close as they hide their face into my neck, before I hear them whisper "dad I'm scared", as I feel them start moving their hips back and forth

And what else can I do but soothe my little one? I need to help calm their fear, even in the middle of a crowded place, and I'll gladly pull our pretty bat blanket over us in the dark, grip their hips and help them grind over my throbbing bulge. Feeling their cunt slowly soak through their underwear, hear them whine everytime they feel my cock twitch under them, soothe their whines with a sweet little kiss as their fear drops

Does my pretty little baby need more of dad's help? Maybe it'd all be a bit less scary if you had my cock in you, don't you think honey? Don't worry about anyone seeing us love, they'll just get to watch what a good little slut you are for me. My sweetheart, you just need your dad inside you, so you can clench your little cunt around my cock everytime you get scared mmh? As I slowly rip into their fishnets and push my cock into their needy cunt~

[charmwasjess]

I legitimately didn't remember how fucking batshit funny some of the Dooku sections in Claudia Gray's Master and Apprentice were. Qui-Gon's remembering his first mission with Dooku in flashback: okay, seems straightforward enough. They land in an ongoing crisis in a battle zone, Dooku goes to talk to the generals. Then, next scene, we smashcut directly to:

"Don't be afraid." Dooku's voice rang out over even the howling winds of Shurrapak. Qui-Gon clung to the carbon-fibre-rope riggings of the Shurrapakan ship, salt spray stinging his face and hands as they rounded the cape to approach the battle from an angle the enemy wouldn't expect. "They're shielded against skycraft and energy weapons. Not against seafaring vessels!" He made this sound majestic, courageous, brilliant -- nothing like the last-minute, last-ditch attempt it really was. Qui-Gon took a deep breath and stared up at the stars. Big mistake. The stars weren't moving and his stomach was, and the queasiness that swept through him made him feel weak.

Dooku has been on this planet for less than 24 hours. There are already other Jedi there ahead of him with established generals working on the battle plans, which according to the scene just before this, are complete enough that its conceivable Dooku and Qui-Gon will miss the action. So naturally, the plan he then comes up with is "ABANDON ALL OTHER PLANS, WE ATTACK THE FORTIFIED BATTLEFIELD WITH OLD TIMEY ROPE-RIGGED SAILING SHIPS!"

And at his side?? A seasick twelve year old who has never left the Temple or seen battle!!! Who can't swim! And backing them up?? Rael fucking Averross, who Dooku was just nagging for being too eager to get into the fighting. Sure, Dooku. That's Rael's problem.

This is the most disaster lineage shit I've ever read. This could absolutely be an Anakin and Obi-Wan Clone Wars arc.

Bonus Rael and Qui-Gon Content, from earlier in the chapter:

"C'mon, then, let's go talk to the generals." Rael made it sound like the most natural thing for a twelve-year-old to do.

Rael, you crazy motherfucker, never change.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve been negative interested in wedding planning but my beloved just suggested we could get married at the zoo.

We did the paperwork part and now just need to plan a public ceremony and gathering and the thought of doing that surrounded by otters is pretty off the charts.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

something bad did indeed happen to that man. spent abt 25 minutes trying to find a better picture of that one (1) offical piece with his eyes open that wasnt compressed or tiny

[libertykinney]

brian playing with his client's sunglasses to pretend he's "working" and avoid looking at justin in this scene is so funny

i love him

[canisalbus]

I was on Pinterest this morning and I saw this and went “MACHETE wait- he wouldn’t drink from a puddle even in an apocalypse” then I’m like- apocalypse machete wouldn’t last five minutes, he’d cringe at the thought of mud getting on his heels(tm) and Vasco would probably act like a hunting dog, he might do pretty well ina full on apocalypse or war or something, and he would carry machete over all the mud puddles Q^Q

.

[soulmvtes]

sitting at the window of a beautiful sunlit cafe drinking yorkshire tea in front of a tree whose leaves are turning brown and orange after a long week... i am soo back

[eyes-like-a-pisces]

My art project called 'Infinity'. I mixed traditional graphic techniques - etching and aquatinte - based on working with acid on metal sheets. I made 18 designs that can be multiplied during printing process. I printed them manually using a special press as positives and negatives. The concept is based on open composition, where lines match each other, giving a possibility of various configurations. To make It more interactive, I attached magnets and presented them on a magnetic board, so everybody can play making their own composition, trying to match different lines. I was inspired by infinity symbols like uroboros or tree of life, but making my own interpretation ♾️

[nullcanary]

What's the backstory behind those cool OCs?

Thank you so much for asking about them! There's quite a bit of backstory to them, but I'd love to try and paint a decent picture, especially for Kultober. Mérie and Luc are my original characters from a ttrpg called Kult: Divinity Lost. Their story spans over 30 years, so there is what was and what is. 

CW: violence, blood and injury, mentions of suicide, cults, death

30 years ago, Mérie was an undergraduate when she met Luc. They found instant companionship within one another, intrigued by each other's ideas on the strange, the grotesque, the taboo, and the undercurrent of those themes within art. What defined and defied the boundaries of *art*. How the evocative power contained within such works, extends beyond the lifetime of the artist, bringing the creator triumph over death, through visceral reaction of the viewer. They found them fascinating concepts in their youth, when loss was still a distant, faceless motif. 

They fell in love, romantically and intellectually, and eventually eloped. They had a saying between one another, their own form of ‘I love you’. Je respire pour toi = I breathe for you. The lungs a symbol of their love, instead of the heart. Animus: the soul, the intelligence, the inner self in touch with the unconscious, rooted from the word anima, “to breathe”. This is what it meant to breathe for one another. It was to share the deepest parts of their being with each other, through conversation, through passion, through dilemma. They could always listen to the other breath, watch the rise and fall of their chest, and find themselves in tune with the motion. 

They moved in with each other as Mérie continued into her graduate program. She decided to base her thesis off of the late Gui Vacquelin, an artist known for his progressively darker and nihilistic works -- his final pieces, a triptych, being completed only moments before he violently gouged his own eyes out with the brush, effectively taking his own life. Mérie was fascinated with the concepts he applied into his work and the effective immortality he granted himself in history through his final act. 

Luc was involved with a peculiar group of individuals, which he eventually introduced Mérie into. They were eccentric, lavish, hedonistic, and debaucherous. This society could pluck the strings only the wealthiest had hands for. They shared the common interest in the dark and disturbed, and often hosted opulent, yet secretive parties centered around such themes, with exclusive access to rare collections and performances for the eve. And there was apparently a deeper layer to unpeel, more powerful secrets. Mérie was allowed on the fringes of this odd group and in time, managed to prove herself of similar enough ilk that she was invited to be initiated as a full member of the society. And as a highlight, Gui Vacquelin’s famed final triptych was to be the evening's display. 

Mérie was ecstatic at the prospect, the access to the works, the connections, the secrets. It was thrilling to be in the presence of the works, to see them in the flesh. Her initiation would involve receiving a dagger, having it choose her. The excitement of the evening quickly turned to horror, as Mérie and Luc were descended upon by the members of the society, revealed in actuality to be a cult. A multitude of familiar faces turned cruel. The initiation was a ruse for a ritual to Togarini, the god of dark art. In truth, Vacquelin had been a servant of the wretched god, his paintings being used as conduits to summon Togarini. The pair were torn from one another, subjected to witness as the cult attempted to transform Mérie into a herald of Togarini.

What followed would only be stored in fragments within Mérie’s mind, a series of sounds and images in a broken frame rate. She would remember pain, flashes of her own carnage, the secrets of her flesh exposed, the distant sound of screams. But due to unknown circumstances, the ritual “didn’t take” onto Mérie. The cult instead turned upon Luc, to perfect him where she had failed. The sound of his voice breaking broke her as she tried to drag herself to where he was.

In the blink of a moment, all was silent. Time was no longer in fragments. Mérie was standing in the middle of a street, alone in the cool night air, holding onto a dagger. She was utterly disheveled – clothes torn, hair drenched, every muscle aching, covered in dirt and blood and … without any apparent wounds on her body. Luc was nowhere to be seen. Blade in hand, she considered the worst. Something terrible. Something… unspeakable. She would never….hurt him? Confused, terrified, obviously in shock, she returned to their flat to try and gather herself. Returning home was no refuge from the horror. He wasn’t there. But neither were any fragments of him. Any notion of his former presence only formed an absence. Papers were missing, clothing, cigarettes, even coffee mugs. Empty spaces on the walls where pictures should be. Money had not been touched, nothing stolen. None of Mérie’s belongings had been tampered with, though she noted a weight lifted from her left finger. Nothing legally binding could be located and all her identifications were painted with the shadow of her maiden name. Luc wasn’t just missing, he had been erased from the world as a whole.

She would not see any members of the society again. Friends would never question about Luc. Therapy would declare that Mérie had suffered an episode of stress induced psychosis, due to some trauma her mind had chosen to block and that she had created the figment of a man as some representation of comfort and potentially betrayal. She refused to believe the packaged explanation and feigned acceptance, choosing to pick up the fragments left of her former life, and continue on with her life, always holding her breath that some true answers would arrive. Time continued to pass. A month, a year, five, twenty five years. Eventually, she untensed and allowed the past to be a dream. Save for the dagger which she kept, close and secret. It was real and by some sense, made Luc real, though time made it more and more difficult to hold his appearance in her mind, a ghost that would haunt only her.

Until the events of an evening nearly thirty years later. Mérie was working as a curator for the Cecil Thorne Art Centre. Wealthy patrons had chosen to put together a charity event in the form of a midnight showing titled, The Atrocity Exhibition, which for the first time would bring together the complete collection of Gui Vacquelin’s works. Apprehension? Terror? Anger? It would be difficult to describe what Mérie felt when her director announced the project, but she was in no position to express these notions. However, the evening descended into even worse than what she had feared. The museum became a literal hell and Mérie would find herself lost within some of the deepest reaches of that.

But amidst it all, through chaos and fog and fire, a hand grabbed her and ripped Mérie forward through a war torn hellscape. The hand, the figure, the face. All that of Luc. Though his hair and beard had grown long, no age had touched his visage as time has brought to her own,  She considered the possibility that she was dead to the world, if he was there. The chemical bursts of death come to bring penance or consequence. She allowed her composure to crack. After years of confusion, years of longing, years of surviving alone, she rushed to his arms, to his lips once they stopped running, in desperation to ground herself to them moment, to feel some sense of warmth, to solidify his existence after so long. As the glow of the reunion waned she recognizes two things: that she was still alive and that this man was not her husband, but an imposter, wearing his skin, twisting her with his voice, employing the couple’s phrase as they shared a cigarette. To what end? How would he know…?  An event came to expose this truth, leaving Mérie with a choice: confrontation or continuation of the illusion. A tense pause exchanged between their eyes… and she decided to choose the latter.

Because the option was somehow less painful. Because she spent so long not even knowing if this person existed at all. That this man still represented some proof, trickery aside. And to give it all up again so soon? To deny herself what she had ached for? Rebuild stone walls that had only just crumbled? If this reflektor was to destroy her, kill her… she resigned herself to the idea. If it’s him, his face, perhaps there would be closure. Comfort in the end of this sorry story. Yet she overlooked that the price didn’t have to be her life. It ends up being other people’s lives that are the toll for the imposter’s freedom. People she had a duty to protect. And she carries that loss moving forward. Knowing she brought this weapon into a space that was supposed to be safe because she let herself want too much. And that “it took”. She builds her walls higher than ever after the events.  And yet and YET, if he returned to her again... she's not all sure she wouldn't crumble all over again. She wants to refuse that opportunity should it come.

Through the toil of erecting composure, she will stare at the ceiling every night and sees a familiar face, turned cruel. In her dreams, she sees the full events of what actually occurred the night she lost Luc. And again and again and again, she has to watch as she kills him. It’s the only way to wake up. Bitterness replaces yearning. Defensiveness replaces trust. Paranoia closes around her throat. Even the memory of him bastardized by the swing between the charade and the truth.

What's to come of their story? That's for my DM to decide in our next campaign....  

Lokorum’s piece is a representation of Mérie’s loss. Consistently revisiting the space where she last knew him. He’s been gone now for more years than she was alive when she met him. Half her life, defined by before the loss. Another half defined by its aftermath. She’ll come back here again and again trying to piece together what happened. Until she finally learns the truth and can never leave. If only she could forget after one last dance…

Ptr-sqloint’s piece is a representation of the weight of shame that Mérie carries. The mirror offers back a reflection of a reflection. She is confined in its frame. The imposter, a reflection of Mérie’s desires, vices, weakness. He exposes them, points them out, makes her bare witness to them, the secrets that are not physical, twisting love into a vice. What is it that she breathes for? Be honest now, Mérie.

[kirby-souljourney-au]

Meta time!!!!

No, I didn’t forget he had a cape until I was almost finished, I knew the entire time I swear. (I definitely forgot.)

Once again, this man takes up too much canvas space for me to put his scar map in the same one as his full ref, so he needs a separate image as well.

All his information and hex codes are under the cut, as usual!

I still can’t draw abs. And I’m sorry this took kinda long, I got distracted… the Taboo rewrite & the planning for the fic itself has a vice grip on my soul.

Full name: Ione Argon

Aliases: Meta Knight, ‘Nene’ (don’t call him that unless you’re his friend)

Species: Earthling Dragon (Fire/Ground) x Dream-Dark-Matter Astral Hybrid

Planet of Origination: Popstar

Age: 231

Height: 6’10”

Gender: Intersex; identifies as non-binary

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Sexuality: Multi-spec lesbian, asexual

S/O: Galacta Iriam (fiancée) (and Ophanim/Morpho EX (girlfriend), in the future)

Family: Hano Agron (biological mother), Ekia Argon (older sister), Vaga Argon (older sister), Sirv Argon (younger brother), Kirby Argon (adopted son) (as well as Athena Iriam (daughter), in the future)

The famous Meta Knight of the Galaxy Soldier Army, well-known for his title and sacred blade, Galaxia.

Engaged to Galacta Iriam — currently has no biological children with him, but adopted 14-year-old Kirby as their son when he was aged 6.

Works as a Knight under Dreamland’s King Dedede, and is head of Castle Dedede’s Royal Guard.

Quiet and seemingly apathetic, though kind-hearted and meaning nothing but well, he finds general difficulty in befriending others due to his somewhat off-putting demeanour. He is very kind, though, just ultimately socially awkward and nervous as an individual.

He joined the GSA the second he turned 19, believing himself to be responsible for the safety of the Galaxy due to his Astral heritage, as well as to get as far away from his mother as possible. He worked with them for the majority of his life since he joined, until an attack by Nightmare wiped out nearly all the GSA’s forces and scattered those that remained. He’s worked for King Dedede as his Knight for about 30 years, and finds genuine enjoyment in his current job.

His weapon of choice is the sacred Master Sword, a sentient enchanted blade named Galaxia. He also uses his natural Fire magic, and on rare occasion, Dream Magic, when necessary. Very well-trained in swordplay, and certainly no easy opponent.

Hex codes

Both:

4F3224 — Scars / Palms

311A0F — Skin

101010 — Socks / Gloves

120E1C — Fuzz fade / Cape back

1D1D47 — Hair / Fuzz base

E0BEFF — Inner ears / Wing webbing

FCC66F — Iris 1

FFFFFF — Wing talons

BFBFBF — Ring / Thigh guards (or whatever they’re called) / Arm guards

Armoured:

18122B — Chestplate & Pauldrons 1

2C2240 — Battle shirt (?)

32353E — Pants

6B5B86 — Straps

CCCFFD — ‘M’ symbol

472A77 — Sabatons

E4C69A — Chestplate & Pauldrons 2

000000 — Inner cape (plus multicoloured Nebulae)

Unarmoured:

1A1A1B — Shirt

343434 — Face mask / Dress pants

D2CDC4 — Iris 2

FFFBF4 — Eye whites

Tail-tip:

08003D — Base / Fade 1 (using Nebula brush)

00113D — Fade 2 (using Nebula brush)

0046FF — ‘Star’ patterning (using Glimmer brush on Hard Light, with base & fade colours overlaid on top using a clipping-mask Colour layer)

[akkivee]

“that party up at chuuoku uploaded all of your data because they planned to throw a vr division rap battle at some point.”

—————

still just like, one of my fav parts of the ghost lore lmao, they were created from this data chuuoku had on everyone for the vr battles 😭😭😭😭

[puppppppppy]

if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

[molicious05]

Hey @2-dogz ! Whatcha think of this wicked bed?

[somecunttookmyurl]

men will get mildly annoyed with a woman and abandon her in clearly unsafe situations as "punishment" like that's normal

like. i very much walked away from him to go home by myself

(because i re-organised and re-arranged my whole birthday trip down to london (at the expense of something i would have liked to do and would have been both very funny and deeply satisfyig) and changed the dates and everything to accomodate him and he threw that in my face

but regardless you still fucking check don't you. like. hello.