#pinterest is not a source it's a theft ring

[soapsdish]

Got this little treat in my messages:

You are 24 years old and have been in this fandom since you were 16 and yet you do not have the common courtesy of 1. looking for the artists you stole from to give them even token credit when you reposted their work and 2. to take responsibility for your own actions that got you called out for your reposting.

Do not whine and cry and try to play victim when you know what you did was wrong. You've obviously not sorry, you're just upset that you were caught and called out for your pisspoor behavior. I'm not sorry in the least bit that you got your feelings hurt nor am I obligated in the slightest to give you a courtesy that you do not have for others.

Not having a twitter? Only being back on Tumblr for a month? Those are fucking excuses you're pretending gives you some kind of pass for your behavior but let me make it very clear they are just that: EXCUSES, and quite shitty ones at that.

Stop playing victim, apologize to the artists that you stole from, find their work and reblog from THEM, stop reposting what isn't yours, and for fucks' sake

TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS AND DO BETTER!

[everthewip]

Ruin

 Unedited, unrevised. I wrote this based on a dream I had. I don't have a lot fleshed out for this, not enough to list genre and themes, but I can say it involves sapphic romance image from Pinterest; didn't have a source; will link if i find one

Music echoed from the city center as she guided me away from the crowds. I did not recognize the street she took. Electricity was in short supply and the magic had been focused on the festival, so the street lanterns were dark and cold. There is a reason folk go missing at this time of year; a reason these poorer districts see a rise in theft and murder every festival. Danger always lurked in shadows, but she moved through the darkness like a wraith; swift, silent, and sure of every step. Her hand squeezed mine as if she feared losing me, a silent challenge to the night – I dare you to steal her from me. My fingers were growing numb.

My head was heavy from the festival drinks, my thoughts twisted by incense that wafted from the tents of fortune tellers and witches. I had sought one out earlier in the night, though for what I could not say. An unseen thread had wrapped around my waist, a gentle tug that pulled me from the safety of home and into the throng of dancers and musicians, peddlers and merrymakers.

  It was in no hurry.  It let me pause to sample what delights the festival had to offer: sweet cakes with honeyed glazes and berries, drinks of every color that tasted of fruit and burned the throat (yet pleasant, despite the sensation), candies imported from lands I had never heard of, hot teas seeped in water from the deepest caverns… There were women from the deserts who sold shawls with sunlight woven into the threads. They shimmered and glowed, a small kiss of daylight beneath the festival stars. Mountain-dwellers showcased displays of exquisite jewelry, the gemstones mined by their own hands; hands hardened enough to wield a pick-axe, and yet steady enough to craft such delicate necklaces and rings.

There were sights still that my eyes had barely touched, but when I came near the witch's tent, the thread allowed my wanderings no longer.

It was silent inside; not even the music of the festival dared enter. A single lantern hung from the roof of the tent, casting a dim light over a round table. At its center sat a bowl, within which incense burned and filled the space with smoke and the scent of more herbs than I could name. It forced its way into my nostrils and down my throat, blurring my eyes.

“Sit,” the witch demanded and I jumped, for I had not seen her seated at the table, watching me. Without a word I obeyed, taking the seat opposite her.

Through the smoke, her form was little more than a shadowed figure, though it is rare witches show their true selves anyway. Her hands reached forward, her fingers long but youthful with sharp nails painted red. The incense smoke twirled around her fingers like ribbons and she began twisting them together, braiding the wisps as if they were solid until she had woven a circle of smoke. It hovered in the air and she lifted a single finger to it, piercing the inner edge to guide a tendril of smoke free like a stray thread. At the center of the circle, she used that single wisp to draw the shape of an eye.

“Look.”

And so I looked and the eye opened, and in its stare I saw a woman.

Her hair was golden and short, cut like a man's with shaggy strands that fell into her face. Her eyes were hazel, then blue, shimmering like sunlight on the open sea. When her lips parted, she laughed a melody.

Then she was gone. The eye closed and the circle faded into normal tendrils of smoke.

“Who is she?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“Your ruin.”

“Someone to avoid, then...”

The witch's figure shifted and I fancied she had tilted her head.

“If you wish it. Now go.”

I stood, for one must never overstay their welcome in a witch's domain, but despite the dismissal I lingered.

“What do I owe you?” My hand hovered over my purse, but the witch only waved a hand through the smoke.

“Nothing. Fate brought you here. It is He you will pay.”

Her words made no sense to me, but I bit back my questions and left. Outside of the tent, the festival music filled my ears again and I briefly forgot everything the witch had just shown me.  

None of that mattered, not as I - hours later - drifted through shadows, holding fast to a hand that refused to let mine go.

We stopped at a building, squished tightly between several more just like it, though without the lanterns I could not truly see where we were. She pulled me through the unlocked door and into an entryway lit by a candle. It sat on a small table beneath a dusty mirror, its light flickering against walls with peeling paper and no décor.

This was not a home.

“Careful,” she whispered, tugging me toward a narrow staircase. We went slowly in the darkness, but she seemed to know every step and I trusted her. At the top, we stepped into a hallway, lit by a similar candle as the one downstairs and nothing else. There were doors on either side – some open, most shut – and from them filtered muffled voices and shifting lights. A man sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with a cigarette poised between his lips. His features were shrouded with so little light, but I could feel his eyes on me.

Without releasing my hand, my companion sought a key from her pocket and used it to unlock one of the doors. Once inside she locked it again and flipped a switch, turning on a stream of tiny lights that were strung up on the walls. They shed a subtle yellow glow, like miniature stars draped around the room. It must have taken barely any magic to keep them lit that night, even though some flickered, threatening to die out at any moment. The room itself was small, cramped, with only a wardrobe to offer any furniture. There was no décor, no sign that anyone lived in it, save for those lights and a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. They were pushed close to the far left wall, with a sheer sheet that hung from a hook in the ceiling to form a canopy. Even in the darkness I could see a range of hue and fabric, the bed-space creating an exotic rainbow.

We stood quietly until I felt her shift on her feet, her grip on my hand loosening.

“It's beautiful,” I said to break the silence, though it was not a lie. As simple as the room was, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

“It's nothing,” she laughed. “You should rest, you'll feel better after that wine.”

The wine had come from a land across the seas, bottled by fey (or so they claimed), and was as potent as it was bitterly delicious. I'd only taken a few small sips before I began to feel it – a lightness that warmed my blood and eased my worries, leaving little more in my head and heart than wonder and desire. It hadn't been quite enough to leave me inebriated.

“I'm not drunk.”

“No, but Sylvian wine has a way of getting to one's head.”

“So, you brought me here to sleep?” I almost laughed at how silly it seemed, but then I realized… I'd followed her without questioning why she'd led me away from the festival at all.

My heartbeat quickened as a warning flared in some distant part of me; a fear that I could be among those missing or murdered by the morning…

But it was a warning that went unheeded. Her hand squeezed mine and I feared nothing.

“Aye,” she answered, releasing me. “This was clearly your first festival and there are folk'a plenty eager to take advantage of a woman drunk on Sylvian wine.”

She parted the veil around her bed and eased herself down onto the cushions, watching me with those eyes as blue as the sea and a smile as confident as the sun. It had stunned me when I first saw it in the town center...

I had wandered into a crowd of dancers, with couples twisting and turning, moving to a fast beat that left me dizzy. Dancing had never been a love of mine and I hadn't meant to wander so close, but once I was amidst the merrymakers there was no getting free. Panic took hold of me. My head spun and my vision blurred. I would have fainted and been trampled beneath countless feet, had her hand not found mine.

She'd pulled me against her, holding me close, keeping me upright while her lips left a breathy whisper in my ear: “What's a flower like you doing all alone in a dirty place like this?”

Focusing on her and her alone had kept me grounded...

From the bed of pillows, she held out her hand and I took it without hesitation. I followed her under the veil, aiming to settle at her side, but she guided me instead to her lap. Her hand released mine, replacing it with her arms as they wrapped around me, her hold gentle. Positioned sideways, I tucked myself against her to rest my head on her shoulder, my lips and nose at her neck.

She smelled like smoke, like bonfires in the summer and the crisp burn of sweet wood. She smelled like spring water, a touch of cheap cologne that I'd never smelled on the men from my district. She smelled like heat and yearning, like summer nights and lazy mornings. Like everything I craved and needed.

I knew it was the fey wine giving me such fanciful thoughts. But it was not the wine that made me lean in and inhale her scent, my lips brushing against her neck as I whispered: “I love the way you smell.”

Something changed and my breath stilled. She remained silent, a tension rising that made me regret saying anything at all. It had been such a ridiculous thing to say, anyway, even if it was true. I lifted my head, an apology already on my tongue, but then she let out the softest of laughs.

“Are you a witch?”

“Am I a – no, of course not!” I didn't know a thing about witches beyond that they were powerful and terrifying, beautiful and deadly, mysterious and best left alone. I wasn't sure anyone even knew how to become one anymore, save for the witches themselves.

“I just had to be sure!” she said, her voice still light with laughter. “You are so unexpectedly… bewitching.”

“Says the woman who charmed me into her bed just to 'sleep', supposedly.”

“Well, what does one expect to do in bed besides sleep?”

Before I could answer, our eyes met and it seemed we both realized just how close we were. A gentle quiet settled over us. Her gaze held mine and then dropped, flitting over my face to settle on my lips. When they met mine again, there was a question lurking in the deep blue. I leaned in, my nose brushing against hers in answer.

Her lips were on me.

It was this, I realized, that I had been waiting for all night; perhaps even before I entered the festival. I could still taste the Sylvian wine on her lips and tongue… I drank it in, drank her in, and knew that nothing and no one would quench my thirst like this ever again. My hands were on her face and then in her hair, fingers caught in the short, golden strands. I shifted to straddle her and her hands found my thighs and squeezed. Nails scraped on bare skin and she dragged them higher, dipping her palms back and under my skirt.

I couldn't breathe.

I didn't want to breathe.

I wanted to inhale her, every bit of her, like the smoke of a festival witch's incense; filling my lungs, intoxicating every bit of my existence.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Rich for a Night

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!detective!reader

Summary: To catch a thief targeting wealthy couples, you go undercover with your husband Deacon.

Warnings: fluff, Deacon & r are held at gunpoint, a Bugatti gets wrecked :(

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (1x19 "Source")

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you lament. “The robberies always occur after big events, dinners, charity galas, but there’s no other connection.”

“Catering company?” your desk neighbor suggests.

“Different for every event. No one worker has been at every event. Planners have alibis, there’s no similarity in looks or where victims live, even banks. The only lead we have is wealthy couples getting robbed, sometimes at gunpoint, after an event.”

You drop your head into your hands as you reconsider the entire case. You’ve looked through every guest list, and everyone has alibied out, even though only a few couples overlapped and attended every event. They got robbed, too, as it turns out. The first two robberies had a connection: they both banked at the same place, but after that, the connection disappeared.

“It has to be someone near the events,” you murmur. “Maybe it’s someone who has access to Los Angeles socialite calendars and is just hanging around the events and picking people at random.”

Your phone rings, and you sigh before you answer, “Detective Kay.”

“Detective, there’s been a murder,” the caller says.

“Let me get you someone in homicide.”

“No, this is related to your burglary case. Or at least that’s what the homicide detective thinks. It looks like a robbery gone wrong.”

“What’s the address?” you ask as you pick up your cell phone and keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

On the drive into the hills, you add this new twist to your thoughts on the case. You agree that this location, the schedule, and everything about the setting of the crime match your investigation. The murder is either a progression or a mistake. Maybe the burglar was interrupted, or the victim tried to stop him. Before you can create too many theories, you arrive at the scene and flash your badge to enter the house.

“What have we got?” you ask the homicide detective surveying the scene.

“Forensics is going over everything now, but it doesn’t look like anything was taken. Single gunshot to the chest was our cause of death.”

“Nothing was taken?” you repeat. “Then why do you think this is related to the thefts?”

“Because of that,” he answers, squatting as he points under the makeup vanity. “A bag filled with jewelry pushed just out of reach. Almost like a dying woman was trying to protect herself and her home.”

“What else did you find?”

“Not much. Seems like this happened pretty quickly. Alarm was disabled at eleven-oh-five p.m.”

“After the murder mystery theater on the yacht,” you add. “Date night gold for the rich.”

“Hence, why we think this is your case, not ours. They’ll try to recover the bullet during the autopsy and run ballistics.”

“Until then, it’s mine to decipher. Thanks, detective.”

“Could I make one suggestion?” he inquires as he removes his gloves. You nod, and he says, “This seems like the perfect opportunity for a UC. Even if you don’t come face-to-face with the burglar, you get to know a bit more about the victims.”

“Even more if you go undercover yourself,” your partner adds as she walks into the house. “Progression or accident?” she asks, pointing to the victim.

“I can’t go undercover,” you argue.

“Why not? You get to play dress up. Plus, you’ve got a tactically trained and incredibly attractive husband you could take with you. No one would question your right to be there with Deac’s old money vibe and your, well, everything.”

You look around the scene, a luxury environment as an outward acknowledgement of all the victim worked for, or as it may be, didn’t work for, and decide it truly is your best option.

“I need a Rolex.”

Browsing the rows of the evidence locker with a small box in your hand, you wonder why so many rich people get arrested. So far, you’ve gathered a Rolex Daytona worth at least $100,000 and three pairs of sunglasses from Cartier, Ray Ban, and Dolce and Gabbana.

“Perfect,” you whisper as you find an envelope with a Tiffany ring and a pure obsidian band.

With these accessories and the dresses your contact who works with the UC division is procuring for you, you do not doubt that you will fit in. You still need a car, but you know just the people to ask about that.

“I need to check these out, Ally,” you request as you slide the evidence onto a desk. “For case 9212024.”

“No problem,” she answers as she begins logging case numbers and photos into her computer. “Who’s the ring for?”

“My husband.”

“I pity the criminals you’re after.”

“At least they’ll get a nice view while we put the cuffs on.”

“What are you doing here?” Rocker asks as you enter SWAT HQ.

“Lovely to see you too, Donovan,” you reply with a smile. “Do you greet your wife like that?”

Rocker shrugs and hugs you quickly before he directs you to where 20 Squad is reviewing warrants.

“Sergeant Kay,” you call as you enter.

“Oh, hi!” Street greets.

“This is a surprise,” Deacon says as he moves around Street to hug you.

“I have something for you,” you begin. You pull the obsidian ring from your pocket and lift the Cartier aviators from your side. “A proposal.”

“Is this a married couple thing or am I just confused?” Street whispers.

“You don’t want me to answer that, playboy,” Luca replies, slapping his back.

“Why?” Deacon questions, smiling even as he narrows his eyes at you.

“It’s just a date,” you promise.

“To do what?”

“I’m still working the string of burglaries targeting rich couples. We’ve got tiny leads that add to enough of a clue that I want to go undercover at the next big event to try to find something. I have to work faster because a woman was killed during a robbery last night.”

“Why not take someone more familiar with the case?”

“Do it, Deac,” Street whispers. “Just for the watch.”

“What watch?” Deacon asks.

You lift your hand to show the Rolex Daytona hanging loosely around your wrist. “There’s a look to people like this. I’ve got everything except a date right now, and you’re the best option for more reasons than I can list, Deac. If you can’t, I get it.”

“No, I want to,” he states, taking the sunglasses from your hand and sliding them onto his face. “Let’s catch a burglar.”

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” Street complains.

“Street,” you call. “I need something from you and Luca too.”

“Alright,” you announce after you secure your earrings. “We just moved here from New York, have our accounts set up, moved into a newly renovated house in the hills and are scoping out the local charities because we’re budding philanthropists.”

“And luring a thief,” Deacon adds as he gently tugs the strap of your dress to straighten your neckline.

“Mostly that.”

“I’m following your lead tonight, detective.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Your ride is here,” Street says on the other side of your door. “And you’re welcome, but don’t get used to it. Luca and I may be brilliant, but we’re not get a free Bugatti loaner every week brilliant.”

“I never said it had to be a Bugatti,” you whisper to Deacon.

“I can hear you, ya know,” Street calls. “You are wearing a wire. So, keep it PG, Deac.”

Deacon smiles as he leans toward the tiny microphone hidden in the seam of your dress strap and answers, “10-4, good buddy.”

Street groans, and you gently push Deacon’s shoulders to straighten his tie. He looks good, though you expected no less.

“Let’s be rich for a night.”

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Napier,” the valet greets as he opens your door. “Beautiful car. It's number 17,” he adds as he hands Deacon the card to pick up the car after the event. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” Deacon answers, nodding as he shakes the man’s hand and passes a $50.

You wait on the curb as Deacon rounds the back of the Bugatti and wraps his arm around your waist.

“If he scratches that car, Street will kill me,” you say through your smile.

“Good thing it’s not Street’s car,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go, Mrs. Napier.”

You smile while you loop your arm around Deacon’s bicep and follow him into the concert hall. Innumerable couples are finding their seats and milling around the open area of the hall as they discuss charities, recent events, and bank account balances. With Deacon, you have no concern about looking out of place, and your confidence is assured when three different women look over at him. One of which looks away from her husband to do so.

“Good evening,” a woman greets, smiling as she approaches you. “My name is Andrea Campbell and I’m hosting this evening’s event. Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I don’t recall meeting you.”

“No, ma’am, you haven’t,” Deacon says, carefully extracting his arm from your hold as he offers to shake her hand. “I’m Dan Napier and this is my wife. We just moved here from upstate New York and wanted to see the charities of Los Angeles.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Mrs. Napier, I am an advocate for women in philanthropy, so if you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me. I truly hope you enjoy this evening’s show and the presentation.”

“Thank you,” you offer before Andrea is called away. Once she’s out of earshot, you stifle a laugh and whisper, “I’m surprised she even saw me.”

“Mrs. Napier, is it?” a man asks, allowing as he pauses directly at your side, out of Deacon’s reach. “My associate Andrea mentioned that you were here. I believe you recently opened an account at my branch of United Banks. Hopefully you can spare some time soon so I can show you around LA.”

He walks away before you or Deacon can speak, and you’re left to watch him and wonder why he chose to acknowledge you.

“Think he’s a suspect?” Deacon murmurs into your ear as you turn toward him.

“No,” you answer, moving your professionally styled hair as you shake your head. “Just a man with a roving eye. We have no evidence that our guy goes after women any more than men.”

“But he killed the woman last night.”

“The husband called it in, though. He was in the house when it happened. Said they were both tied up and she managed to get free and went into the bedroom to confront the thief. He’s scared, he doesn’t like being watched. Nothing like that guy.”

Deacon nods and pulls you close, smiling before he kisses you quickly. You slide your hand into his and follow him to your seat.

During the concert, nothing of note occurs. Even after it ends, you’re welcomed to Los Angeles by several couples, but no one sticks out as a possible suspect. So, disappointed and back at square one, you exit the concert hall and stand at Deacon’s side as he asks the valet to fetch the car.

Just as the Bugatti pulls up, the man who parked your loaner car moves behind Deacon and presses a gun against the small of his back.

“Get in the car, Mr. Napier. I’d hate to shoot through your wife’s pretty dress,” he demands quietly. “Now.”

Deacon moves his hands slightly to show the man that he’s unarmed and mumbles, “Okay, okay.”

“In the car, Mrs. Napier,” he demands, jerking his head toward the passenger door.

You nod quickly, wearing faux fear on your face as you get in the front seat. Deacon sits in the driver’s seat beside you as the armed man slides in behind him.

“Nice car,” he applauds. “Now drive to your house. Either one of you moves for a phone… if you even adjust the air vent, I will shoot you both.”

You don’t think he will, not somewhere as noticeable and closed-in as the car, but you nod and pretend to swallow a sob as Deacon pulls the Bugatti out of the short driveway.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the man begins as Hondo speaks into your earpiece to alert you that he’s behind you in an unmarked car. “We’re going to go into your house, you’re going to turn off the alarm and get out of my way, and I’m going to take whatever I want. Understood?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Deacon replies.

The man presses the gun against your temple and yells, “Understood?!”

“Yes,” Deacon answers quickly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as his hands remain firmly at 10 and 2. “Understood.”

“I trust you, Dan,” you whisper as his left hand shifts slightly. “And everything you’d want people to do.”

“Shut up!” the man demands, lowering his gun slightly as he looks between you and Deacon.

“I trust you, Daniel,” you repeat softly, hoping your wire picks it up.

“I hope you don’t regret that,” Hondo answers in your ear. “Turn one light too early if you mean it, Deac.”

Deacon’s jaw clenches as he approaches the last light before your turn.

“This way is faster,” he tells the thief as he hits the blinker but doesn’t move.

Hondo’s engine revs as he increases his speed, steering his car to the right to perform a PIT manoeuvre.  When his front bumper collides with the side of the Bugatti, Deacon releases the wheel and turns toward you. He grabs the man’s forearm and hits it against the passenger seat as you retrieve your service weapon from your ankle holster. The car slides to a stop against the curb, and the man drops his gun, then begins crying as you level your aim at him.

“You’re under arrest,” you tell him, panting as you try to catch your breath and lower your heart rate.

“Who are you?” the man whimpers as Deacon holds his arm between the front seats.

“Detective Kay, LAPD,” you answer. “This is Sergeant Kay. And the man about to pull you out onto the pavement is Sergeant Hondo. LAPD SWAT.”

“Wait,” he interrupts, sniffling. “You’re actually married?”

Hondo rips the door open before you can answer and grabs the back of the man’s shirt collar to haul him out of the car. He looks through the open back door to check on you and Deacon, then clicks his tongue.

“Luca and Street are not going to be happy.”

You tip your head back against the headrest and groan.

“Congratulations, Detective Kay,” Deacon says.

He smiles as you turn in the seat to face him.

“I love you,” you tell him softly. “Even more without the expensive jewelry.”

“But I look good in the sunglasses, right?”

You laugh and nod but point out, “We didn’t need them for a concert at night, though.”

Deacon laughs with you, and as the approaching police lights reflect around you, you know your life is richer with Deacon than with any material belongings you could ever borrow or earn.

[newslookout]

Vicky Nguyen Gets Inside Look At Retail Theft Rings | TODAY

NBC News investigative and consumer correspondent Vicky Nguyen joins TODAY to talk about the world of organized retail crime that causes massive losses in the industry every year. » Subscribe to TODAY: http://on.today.com/SubscribeToTODAY » Watch the latest from TODAY: http://bit.ly/LatestTODAY

About: TODAY brings you the latest headlines and expert tips on money, health and parenting. We wake up every morning to give you and your family all you need to start your day. If it matters to you, it matters to us. We are in the people business. Subscribe to our channel for exclusive TODAY archival footage & our original web series.

Connect with TODAY Online! Visit TODAY’s Website: http://on.today.com/ReadTODAY Find TODAY on Facebook: http://on.today.com/LikeTODAY Follow TODAY on Twitter: http://on.today.com/FollowTODAY Follow TODAY on Instagram: http://on.today.com/InstaTODAY Follow TODAY on Pinterest: http://on.today.com/PinTODAY

#VickyNguyen #RetailTheftRings #TodayShow

Vicky Nguyen Gets Inside Look At Retail Theft Rings | TODAY

The post Vicky Nguyen Gets Inside Look At Retail Theft Rings | TODAY appeared first on News Lookout.

source https://newslookout.com/world-news/vicky-nguyen-gets-inside-look-at-retail-theft-rings-today/

[kashishipr]

No matter whether you have developed a fitness club, industry’s interesting technology, or a global agency, you as a businessman must protect every aspect of your Intellectual Property (IP). Undoubtedly, there are several ways in which you can do so, but the most vital one is registering your business’s or products’ actual name and the logo as trademarks.

Trademark

Trademarks can refer to any number of things, including words, logos, phrases, or slogans that help consumers make a clear distinction amid different companies with related products or services in the market. With this ability to provide a unique identity, a trademark cannot just safeguard the business name and logo from theft and piracy but also benefit the related company with remarkable goodwill and brand reputation.

Hence, when launching your business, it is vital to trademark the name and logo to ensure protection against issues like losses due to Trademark Infringement or confusion that makes consumers buy from your competitors rather than you.

Besides providing the opportunity to preserve your hard work from getting misused by others, Trademark Registration can aid you to make money. A few famous trademarks worth billions. For instance, Google’s trademark values around $44.3 billion, Microsoft’s weighs in at $42.8 billion, and Walmart’s comes in at $36.2 billion.

As billion-dollar values don’t befall overnight, it will be in your best interest to start building an IP portfolio now so that you can upsurge the monetary value of your business by capitalizing on your trademarks.

Steps You Should Take to Ensure Your Trademark has Value

Get Creative

Before filing Application for Trademark Registration in India or any country you want, ensure that the slogan, name, or logo is memorable and distinctive. Besides, it should be your creation, i.e., not copied from anywhere, and must not be confused with any other company or brand.

Almost all successful brands use marks made up of words and images that not just portray their business but also describe their products and services in new and unusual manners.

Focus on Slogan

A remarkable way to enhance your trademark portfolio and make more value is to have an amazingly marketable slogan based on the current trend and industry. Consider the case of boxing ring announcer Michael Buffer, who has made not less than $400 million with his trademarked phrase ‘Let’s Get Ready to Rumble.’ This appears as a great example when it comes to monetizing a trademark.

Make it Legal

To enjoy the comprehensive benefits, you need to complete the Trademark Registration Process of your mark successfully. In this process, you, first of all, should apply for it with the associated department, like the trademark registry in India and United States Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO) in the United States.

Once the relevant department or Office finds that the Trademark Application has met all the filing requirements, it’d assign a serial number to the application and then send the same to an examining attorney. If the attorney decides that there are problems in allowing the registration of your mark, he/she will issue a notice, which explains their arguments against registering your trademark and outlines the changes needed in the application. You, as an applicant, should respond to the notice as soon as possible.

As the complete Trademark Registration Process in India or any nation seems time-taking and tricky, working with an experienced Trademark Attorney can be the best for you. Being skilled and aware of legal rights, matters, etc., he/she can help you in streamlining the process, along with overcoming the challenges that may prevent successful application or registration of your mark.

1.     Analyze Your Options

Once the creative name, slogan, or logo with which you came up is registered, you are ready to monetize your trademark. Here’re some options you should analyze:

·         License Your Trademark: Trademark Licensing is a fairly common practice to capitalize on any registered mark. Licensing your trademark to another company or person means that you are allowing the same to use it for particular products and services in exchange for the expected fees. Think of celebrities or sports teams who allow others to use their names, images, etc., on things like beauty products, soft drinks, restaurants, and more.

·         Co-branding with Another Company: It allows both parties to take advantage of each other’s goodwill and brand reputation. It is a good way to attract more consumers and enhance your sales. Apple and Nike working together on goods for athletes, Bonne Belle and Dr. Pepper collaborating on a flavored lip gloss, are the two well-known examples of this type of joint venture.

·         Making Money through the Securitization of Your Trademark: It is the concept that enables the companies to use the value of their trademarks to generate financing.

Monetizing your trademarks can bestow you with substantial new revenue streams. However, to grab the full advantage of the opportunity, you should not miss out on any single way to secure your valuable assets under the robust shield of Trademark Protection.

An experienced Intellectual Property Law Firm is one of the best sources to get any kind of help you need in this area. It can help you in successful registration as well as licensing of your trademark.

For more visit: https://www.kashishipr.com/ 

Don’t forget to follow us on social media:

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/kashishipr/

Twitter – https://twitter.com/kashishipr

Linkedin – https://www.linkedin.com/company/kashishipr/

Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.com/kashishipr/

Tumblr – https://kashishipr.tumblr.com/

Contact - US

Email Id: kashishipr@kashishipr.com

Website: www.kashishipr.com

[kathy25morgan-blog]

Diamond Solitaire Rings are known for its timeless elegance and the ultimate brilliance that awfully adds a spark and perfect beauty to the ring. In order to get the maximum brilliance in the ring, women prefer to buy Diamond Solitaire Ring.

To maintain the newness & brilliance of the ring, you need proper care & maintenance because of the way you take care of your diamond ring will determine the look and brilliance of your rings.

So, in today’s blog, you will explore the complete cleaning & care guide along with the few do’s & don’ts that can help you to maintain the brilliance of your Solitaire Diamond Ring.

Do’s to Care Diamond Solitaire Rings

Ensure Your Ring – Buying the diamond ring is the biggest investment for couples. Thus, it is mandatory to safe & secure your investment. How? Insurance is the foolproof way to keep your diamond rings safe from uncertainties like lost, theft, damage, and much more. The appropriate Insurance plan will ensure not only financial protection but also leave you with peace of mind, so, always choose an appropriate insurance plan for your diamond solitaire ring.

Keep Your Ring Clean – Maintaining the spark & newness of the ring can be a little easy if you give a regular and gentle cleaning to your ring and diamond. Make sure first remove all the dirt and small particles from your ring. For this, soak your ring in the soap solution, later scrub it gently with the bristle of the toothbrush. Finally, rinse it with the clean water and dry it with the soft cloth. After this, leave your ring open in exposure to air for some time. This will soak all the moisture of the ring.

Remove Your Ring While Doing Household Activities – Usually household includes cooking, washing, and other heavy activities that may take the toll on the shine of the diamond & newness of the overall ring. So, once you started with your household chores, keep your ring aside in the safe place. If you are cleaning your house, avoid wearing ring because this may make your ring the house of dust.

Don’ts to Care Diamond Solitaire Rings

Resize Your Ring More Than Once – Resizing your ring, again and again, may weaken your ring. Usually, during uncertain conditions like pregnancy, women may not able to wear the ring because their hands usually swell during that specific period. So, it is being suggested that avoid going for ring sizing during pregnancy or immediately after delivery.

Use Harsh Chemicals on Ring – Don’t bring your diamond solitaire ring in contact with harsh chemicals. While doing household chores or cleaning your ring, avoid using harsh chemicals like acids, chlorine-based solution, or harsh detergents. This may put an adverse effect on the look & shine of your diamond ring. So, use the natural soap solution to clean your ring.

Touch Diamond or Stone of Ring – Most girls have the habit of touching the diamond of their ring. This will allow the germs on your finger to enter into the minute detailing of the ring. Once the dirt and oil present on finger transfer to the ring, it gets settled deeply into it which is hard to clean.

 So, these do’s and don’ts will definitely help you to keep your Diamond Solitaire Ring clean and shiny. If you are looking for the gentle way to clean & care your diamond ring, then, refer to this complete guide without any second thought.

If you don’t have the time to invest in cleaning your Diamond Solitaire Ring, then visit us at Baxter’s Fine Jewelry. We offer professional checking and cleaning jewelry service for free. Visit our store located at 200 Jefferson Boulevard Warwick RI 02888. You can also call at 401-739-8222 or connect us on Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest.

Article Source : https://bit.ly/2Lj6Tfy

Diamond Solitaire Rings

[soapsdish]

I will call out each and every single reposter I see because I'm that bitch. Artists already have it so rough trying to get engagement on the platforms they're on so it's a goddamn kick in the fucking teeth when their work is STOLEN and reposted to other places or even on the very platform they're on!

Don't do it. Don't repost someone else's artwork. You need permission and nine times out of ten they don't grant it so you're effectively stealing their work.

It takes literal seconds to find the source. And remember:

Pinterest isn't a source, it's a theft ring.