#Leather Gloves Manufacturer

[garmorcorp]

Utility Leather Gloves Supplier in Pakistan — Garmor

Discover premium Utility Leather Gloves from Garmor, Pakistan's trusted supplier for high-quality gloves. Designed for durability, comfort, and performance, these gloves offer superior protection in industrial, construction, and outdoor tasks. Elevate your safety with Garmor's expertly crafted leather gloves.

[surkhab7]

Mechanic GLOVES S7-01-02 Surkhab7

Mechanic GLOVES

Art No: S7-01-02

Custom Made Products Manufacturer By Surkhab7

For inquiry Email Or Whatsapp

info@surkhab7.com

+92 301 6165522

[hiltonmanufacturing]

Why Leather Gloves Are the Top Choice for Hardworking Americans

In the United States, where hard work and dedication are ingrained in the national identity, having the right tools for the job is paramount. This extends beyond heavy machinery and power tools – it applies to everyday essentials like gloves. Leather gloves, in particular, have been a trusted companion for American workers for centuries, offering a unique blend of durability, dexterity, and protection. At Hilton Enterprises, a leading manufacturer and wholesaler of leather gloves in the USA and Canada, we understand the importance of quality hand protection. That's why we've compiled a comprehensive guide outlining the top 10 reasons why leather gloves are the best choice for you.

1. Unmatched Durability: Built to Last

Leather is a naturally tough material, renowned for its resilience. Unlike some synthetic fabrics that can tear or wear easily, leather gloves can withstand years of heavy use. This translates to significant cost savings in the long run, as you won't need to constantly replace worn-out gloves. The American Society for Testing and Materials (ASTM) International even sets rigorous standards for leather glove durability, ensuring you get a product built to endure the toughest tasks.

Statistic: According to a study by the Bureau of Labor Statistics, hand injuries account for a significant portion of workplace accidents in the USA. Durable leather gloves can significantly reduce the risk of such injuries.

2. Superior Dexterity: Feeling What You're Doing

Many people associate leather gloves with clunkiness. However, modern leather manufacturing techniques allow for the creation of gloves that offer excellent dexterity. This is crucial for tasks requiring a high degree of precision, such as assembling delicate machinery, working with electronics, or driving. At Hilton Enterprises, we offer a variety of leather glove styles with strategically placed seams and supple leather cuts that ensure optimal finger movement and tactile sensitivity.

Example: Mechanics and construction workers often rely on leather gloves that provide both protection and the ability to manipulate tools with ease.

3. Enhanced Grip: Confidence in Every Grasp

Leather naturally offers a superior grip compared to many synthetic materials. This is especially beneficial in environments where wet or oily conditions can make handling objects slippery. With leather gloves, you can ensure a firm grasp on tools, equipment, or materials, reducing the risk of accidents and improving overall work efficiency.

Safety Tip: When working with wet or oily materials, choose leather gloves with a textured palm for an even stronger grip.

4. Natural Breathability: Keeping Your Hands Cool and Comfortable

Unlike some synthetic gloves that trap heat and moisture, leather is a breathable material. This allows air to circulate around your hands, preventing sweat build-up and keeping them cool and comfortable throughout the workday. This is particularly important for tasks that require sustained hand use or working in warm environments.

Industry Example: Construction workers, firefighters, and landscapers often benefit from the breathability of leather gloves, especially during hot summer months.

5. Puncture and Abrasion Resistance: A Shield for Your Hands

Leather is naturally resistant to punctures and abrasions. This makes it ideal for working with sharp objects, rough surfaces, or environments with potential hazards like thorns, splinters, or debris. Leather gloves can act as a barrier, protecting your hands from cuts, scrapes, and punctures, minimizing the risk of injuries.

Application: Leather gloves are essential for various professions, including carpenters, welders, landscapers, and anyone working with sharp tools or abrasive materials.

[zikarsportsinternational]

#ladies #ladiesgloves #leathergloves #gloves #style #fullgloves #produts #online #branded #buisness #marketing #leather #leathergloves #womenfashion #womeninbusiness #womenstyle #manufacturer #sportswear #custom #drivergloves for the buying and more information about the products please visit our site www.zikarsports.com Email Zikarsports786@gmail.com My whatsapp 0092-3086855176 https://www.instagram.com/p/CnFiUqvr3p3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[lokisgoodgirl]

loki stuffing your panties into ur mouth to keep u quiet while fucking u in the empty throne room !!!

Don't mind if I do. 😎🩲 Ps. I HC that Asgardians don't really do underwear, so we have something else instead.🧤

Throne

Warnings: Smut/ Soft dom! King! Loki/ Gagging/ Breeding kink elements. I've been off work this afternoon so rattled this out, apols for any snaffoos - I'm in a bubbly mood today so fancied some filth. w/c 750 A link to my masterlist is here

Loki’s angular face is all sharpness and shadows in the gloom of a hundred torches lining the wall.

“Closer,” he orders, and you obey. Your eyes flicker penitently from the floor, pinning on his as you climb the steps. His leather-gloved fingers toy leisurely with the strap around his hips; the pop of metal buttons echoing. Everyone else is at the feast, and the throne room has never looked more beautiful: like a glittering, golden tomb. This isn’t what you expected when the king slipped you a note in the great hall – but now you’re here, you can’t imagine it being anything else.

“Closer,” he says again.

One corner of his mouth curls. You gasp as he reaches out, pulling you to his lap in one harsh movement and the iron meat of his bound cock slams against your clit. Loki’s hands run covetously up your thighs, pushing the chiffon dress around your hips. “Ore and blood,” he breathes, slipping a finger between your folds and thrumming against your clit. "I've wanted you all night. Hel's fire, you have no conception of how much." A strangled moan scrapes from your throat, and immediately the free hand not making lazy circles on your cunt is pressed to your mouth. “Quiet,” he warns gruffly. The god’s hair is glossy in torchlight; tangled with a sheen like magpie wings. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Use your hands. Quickly.” You grasp against his crotch, sliding a hand inside his leathers and curling around what lies within. Your eyes widen, and Loki’s amused expression twists to pleasure as your grip tightens. He's as hard as the marble pillars. “Gods, how I’ve wanted this,” he says breathlessly as you shift up and hover over the tip. “Say it?” you beg, brushing the head of his legendary cock against your slit. “Please…”

Pearls of sweat glisten on Loki’s forehead, and he looks up beneath those dark lashes, his bottom teeth jutting forward as he tries to restrain himself from thrusting into you like the sexual beast he is. “I command you to fuck the king, as you were born to do,” he drawls with all the regal arrogance you’d requested. Your slippery pussy edges down the god’s length, meeting the root with a filthy growl from his throat. Loki’s hands fly to the arms of the throne, and you’re sure his knuckles are whitening beneath those slutty leather gloves as you begin to rock against him. Your groans sound like music in the empty hall; bouncing between pillars of marble like mockingjay song. “Quiet,” he grits, brows peaking. “You’ll alert…a-alert the guards.” You tighten around his cock in response and give an insolent, echoing whine of pleasure. Without another word Loki brings his hands together and peels one tight, leather glove in front of your face. You follow his movements as he plucks the tips of his fingers: one, by one, by one. “Don’t…fucking…stop,” he enunciates slowly – and a thrill of dangerous desire swells in your lower belly. His face is clouded with manufactured disdain as you moan again, squeezing around the fat, sensitive tip before sinking to the base with a rattle of his name.

It’s interrupted by Loki’s fingers flying to your jaw; stuffing the leather glove inside your open mouth. You choke on nothing, eyes wide and cunt throbbing.

“There. The perfect angle for me to fuck you full of myself: here where you belong…me on my throne, and you on yours.” Loki’s eyes blaze as his grip moves to your ass, pulling you flush to his chest; buried against your cleavage and thrusting so deep you think you might shatter. “When the king tells you to keep your voice down, he means it,” Loki whispers hot in your ear. He releases a disgustingly gravelled rasp of pleasure as his one gloveless hand tangles in your hair. It pulls gently while the other guides your hips: leather sticking to the sweat misting your skin.

A muffled moan of understand is all you can muster as Loki’s cock stretches you; his pubic hair tugging your clit; an orgasm so powerful welling between your thighs you could swear the throne was trembling. The leather stuffed between your lips tastes warm; oak-birch undertones of his natural scent making you dizzy. Even if you both screamed your orgasms to the old gods, the guards won’t come, they know better than that. And he knows it, too.

“Where better for my glorious wife to conceive a future king than on my throne,” Loki growls, his voice beginning to break as it comes undone. His mind, too. And as he does, unhinged and bucking everything he has inside your heat – so do you.

The glove isn’t enough to stifle the cry of his name in your throat - it never is.

-----

👑❤️x Tags in comments as per.

[syoddeye]

short, unedited ghost x f!reader thing.

you must've stepped on a mirror. walked under a ladder. let a black cat cross your path.

because it's near two am, and you're trapped under a tiny, leaky awning during an absolute downpour after closing. your keys? locked inside behind you. your phone? in your desperate search for your keys in your bag, you dropped it and the screen's kaput. now you're fighting off tears and cursing the manufacturer of your worthless umbrella, because it's fucking broken. insult to injury.

you don't hear the big man coming with all the swearing and muttering to yourself. "son of a fucking..." you furiously shake the mangled metal and nylon, like a terrier with a rat. it's ten minutes on foot to the closest station and of course you wanted to look cute so you bought the pretty albeit useless raincoat—

"want to borrow mine?"

you nearly stab the owner of the voice with the broken exposed ribs of the umbrella, wheeling on him with your best do not fuck with me face. a face that disappears, morphing into frozen terror at the skull-faced giant in front of you. he's drenched, which can't be good for th leather jacket stretching across his shoulders and chest. it's shiny, catching the streetlamp on its slick surface. a gloved hand offers an umbrella. a sturdy looking one.

"y'alright?"

well, he hasn't eaten or stabbed you yet, so.

"y-yeah."

"take it. yeah. sweet girl."

"thanks?" you swallow and pop the umbrella open, holding it aloft over your head under the awning.

"run along home now. don't you know that sugar melts?"

it's. it's not the worst thing a man's ever said to you, but the tone with which he says it—you're dashing off down the sidewalk before he can feed you any other deeply unsettling lines. a laugh echoes in the dark.

[weskie]

Eye of the Storm (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

post spencer confrontation, what if wesker was loved and allowed to feel the pain of his emotions | Fic Directory

You find him in a fit of rage.

He’d been gone for a few days. A business venture, he’d said.  One you weren’t permitted to join.

You never expected this.

You hadn’t even heard him arrive. No greeting, no shutting of the front door nor footsteps that normally tipped you off to his presence. 

You hear a heavy thud, not unlike something being slammed against a wall.  Then another, and another, and another.  You scurry through your home toward his office, finding the sounds of snarling growls and shattering, splintering wood to be that much louder.  You’re almost afraid to open the door, but you know you must.

Whatever happened, whatever state he’s in– you swore long ago that you’d be by his side through it all.  The creaking of the door makes him spin around, eyes a sharp red even through the dark tint of his glasses.  His chest heaves with heavy breaths and his fists are balled so tight you can practically hear the creaking cry of crushed leather. He seethes through bared teeth as if to warn you away when you take that first step inside.

You know better.

“Al,” you croon, treading slowly. Glass crunches beneath the sole of your shoe and he appears to flinch the slightest bit.  “Sweetheart,” you take another few steps closer, hands in front of you to show the surrender within your approach.  You don’t know what to say.  It seems as though nothing in the world can quell the hurricane brewing within.  

His unrelenting gaze all but dares you to cross the fray.  Will you be so bold as to enter the eye of the storm? Could you?

As you come closer, you notice the damage.  His black coat is torn in several places, bloodied in others– flecks of it in his hair.  Gloves scuffed at the knuckles. Glasses cracked at the corner, sitting at an odd angle due to a missing nose pad.

You reach up slowly to remove them, pushing them up to rest atop his head.  His breath catches audibly.  Wesker’s upper lip curls and trembles, nose scrunching in a way that you would ordinarily find cute were it not for the typhoon of rage written across his face. 

Your hands trace slowly down his temples to cup his cheeks.  You can tell he’s reluctant to let you touch him.  He doesn’t speak, but he also doesn’t look away.  His eyes drill straight into you.  It’s as if looking away means to be consumed by the same force that split the desk in two and wrecked the room.

“Breathe, Al.” You whisper, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones. You watch him take a shuddering breath before his hands shoot up to grab your wrists.  You wince at the tightness of his grip.

He falls to his knees, head lowered.

You go down with him.

Whatever splinters you’ve landed on sting, but there are matters far more pressing than that.

“I am nothing.”  

His voice is small and so incredibly unlike the man you know.  There is no authority, no edge, no strength to it.  With a hand at the back of his neck, you pull him to hide his face against your chest.  You’re about to open your mouth to counter such a terribly false statement when a crushing grip settles on your shoulders.

“Manufactured.” 

His hands shake despite the force of their hold.  Something had truly rattled him to his core, something big.  Flashes of memories blow through your mind of every time you’d seen that perfect composure crack.  His fury at his old teammate, frustrations with achieving his dream, and–

Like shattered glass revealing an unspoken truth, you connect his words with his most persistent anxiety.

The old man.

You realize why your presence was forbidden, why he wouldn’t tell you his whereabouts nor his plans.

For every night he’d laid awake chewing a hole in his lower lip, tossing and turning, fretting and torturing himself.  Each moment he’d lose the time staring at the wall, contemplating his strange fixation on none other than Oswell E. Spencer himself.  All of the time and resources spent tracking down a ghost.

Had his efforts paid off?

His grip grows stronger as he launches into a tirade– Umbrella, Spencer, Project Wesker.  You merely listen with wide eyes as he tells the tale of his creation, and everything you know of his upbringing becomes so much more sorrowful.  Not merely an orphan, nor a prodigy with exceptional ideals and a mind to change the world.

A product.

An idea.

Another man’s dream.

A borrowed last name.

A boy stolen from those that would have nurtured him.  Taken from the people who would have celebrated his mind, not simply capitalized off of it.  Who would have cared for his milestones and held his hands through each one.

Who would have loved him.

His eyes are unfocused as he tells every detail.  It’s as if he’s gone to hide within himself.

You suspect such a state is far worse than his rage could ever be.

He’s silent for a time, though the tightness of his grip remains.  His mouth twitches, lips parting as if he means to say something, over and over again…

“Who am I?”

The quiver in his voice shatters you.  Those cracks in his poise you’d seen during those anxious frets over finding Spencer, of finding Chris, his disgust with the human race and their penchant for self destruction and cruelty– it’s all split wide open now.  You see the raw nerve that he truly is. And all you want to do is shield him from the pain.  

But you can’t.

The damage is done.  It has been for decades.

The best you can do is hold him close and coo love and reassurances in droves.  You encourage him to feel it.  

Don’t suppress it.  Don’t swallow the pain nor bury it deep to drown in itself.

Feel it.

You card your fingers through the hair at his nape.  He seethes and shakes to hold back his cries.  You still feel the tears soak your shirt all the same.

“Whoever you are,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Whoever you want to be…”

His grip slackens.

“I will love you, always.”

[floofysmallbob]

rockin’ redesign for the best girl!

let’s fucking gooooooo it’s finally time for Jirou Kyoka to shine

I really really like this one, it’s got to be my favorite, and the most detailed, although that’s probably because I’m very much biased towards Jirou AND I’m alt, but still

So here’s Auscultate Hero: HeartBeats!

eeeeeee

actually punk/alt

leather jacket/pants for protection

brighter, patterned shirt

studded jacket

the jacket originally just came with the heart on the left breast and the back label of “Earphone Jack”, everything else was added by her and not the costume manufacturers

elbow/shoulder/knee pads(also studded!)

fanny pack bc I didn’t give her any storage

protective coverings for her earjacks

same as with Ojiro, her quirk relies on her (frankly kinda fragile) earjacks, you sure as hell don’t want them getting injured

fishnet gloves

speakers on wrist amplify in all directions instead of just directly forward

combat boots

detachable speakers

not visible but there are also speakers on the back of her boots

speakers embedded into the soles

mic on the headphones that can amplify her voice to the speakers instead of her heartbeat if need be

COLD WEATHER VERSION:

longer jacket

longer shirt sleeves(not visible)

higher collar

thicker pants

darker earjack coverings

gloves

mesh turtleneck underlayer

headphones double as earmuffs

WARM WEATHER VERSION:

jacket has been replaced by a vest

looser shirt

shorter boots

oops I didn’t fix the shading on the boots but oh well

lighter earjack coverings

[top-shelf-tender-moved]

The Blood Ball

Husk had scrambled until the last minute to pull together an outfit worthy of attending Rosie’s Blood Ball, but he could finally say with certainty that he felt prepared to conquer the evening. After his fall from grace, the feline had shut himself away from social gatherings, attending only if the Radio Demon demanded his presence.

He still remembered the first party after he had fallen from grace: Alastor parading him around all night as his newest thrall, and the mortification that he could never show his face among Pride’s elite again.

That was about to change tonight.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of his defeat, Husk embodied the fire that used to ignite his wings and tail at the height of his demonic power. Though that form was now held under Alastor’s conservatorship, he had found ways of manufacturing his own flames with help from his newest friend, the King of Hell.

Emerging from his room, Husk sported a black swallow-tail suit jacket with gold embroidery, feather shoulder pauldrons, and a heart-shaped open back for his wings. His matching, straight cut slacks flared with the addition of an over skirt fabric that cracked and glowed with golden magma light. His clawed hands were covered with gauntlet gloves: metallic outwardly, but soft leather on the palms. Four rings bearing the symbols of card suits adorned his tail, his ear tips glistened with pointed cuff earrings, and a pair of gold-patterned wingtip shoes clicked smartly as he strode. Husk’s mask was a dazzling gold with blazing motif’s and pointed edges that actually flickered with golden fire! A half-cape of the same flames billowed from his left shoulder, and as it brushed his clothes, it became clear that the garment and mask embellishments were illusory magic that no one needed to fear.

The Gambling Demon was back, and he’d be damned if he let anyone spoil this night for him.

@cannibalxroses

Current dates:

@statiicstag @visage-of-hell @angie-long-legs @hzbinsouled @damnedrainbows @themosthatedbeingg @ang3lcakess

[captainkurosolaire]

Unsheathe, Heart

Abscission cascaded cherry-blossoms dropping onto piles; translating change, twinkles of stars; wishes of hope shot through enchanted lavender-night skies. A resonator soul was undergoing, these stories. An unlikely-dark figure cloaked of shadow, clutched a helpless flower remaining stalwart in fetal position, blows suffering in defense. Ire disappoint encompass the feature of an Eastern Handler. His Blade served dysfunctional, flawed, it wouldn't slice in the direction appointed any-longer. All because of a woman who interfered with its cruel-temperament.

Another violent penalty-kick unleashed to punish insubordination, sending the compromised once-formidable, Death-Dealer on his back, only further fury surfaced from the Don, revelation's showed leather-gloves clasping delicately a Sakurasou willing to give life for it, forsake steel to wield that?!!' Intolerable... Blasphemy! Jewelry digit's of wealth, reached and grasped a hilt-blade, time for execution...

Unconfined-steel slid outside its cover. The Esteemed One, uttered his grievances, "I your Maker, failed. As-such, I'll dismantle that worthless dishonored stain you've come to become!!!" Plunging an attempted horizontal strike for impaling the prone, Seeker. Sole-boots of the feline, still managing his fight intersected pausing the steel-between feet, preventing his death for a momentarily-time, only glancing strands of raven-locks befell; rolling off dexterously his shoulders, to a kip-up. Spitting a loose tooth towards his aggressor. Golden-star-orbs enclosed-in those of Ancient heritage... Truesight, reigned. The Don's relentless attack followed, but this pest continued dodges until they reached a wall. In a quick-turn of his movement, he'd stuff the flower's stem between his mouth, romantically; death in life were one-of-body. Then springboard-kick off the wall, landing behind his enemy. A deathly-slash vertically attempted to cleave cat-folk's head from shoulder, those pesky-eyes, foresaw! Rozan the Star, felt sharpness ache throughout himself but his trained-experience plunged it down, utilizing that ability, gravely could-be costly. He tucked and leaped a headbutt to the jaw of his Handler came, in that disruption. Honzo knew too well, danger of being too close against this level-of-assassin. Wind of death on his nape, he leapt back fearfully. The Lion Shadow revealed his intentions to have these motion's play-out, controlling the battle. Fetching with agility his discarded Uchigatana. Both men knew the next strike; would be the other's fatal departure. ...There's a moment, An Instance... When a depleted, beaten-spirit can utilize a legendary stance... If the conditions are met, dire. Divergence of soul's twisted corridors are realigned. Selected individual's who acquire this of our Realm... Historically analog throughout fabled-legends. God-slayers, Proven mythical rulers, They. Slice. Destiny. This Flower... This Breathe... Her... Broke-throughout his remaining conscious, into a singular flush.. Serenity.

Both took sword-stance. Eyes closed, feet prepared their flight.

[Limit-Break] <"Thousand Shadow-Petals; Sing!"> Written to soul-engraving Hingashi lettering, fate was slashed. The opposing men, were now across each in an instant. As if Light itself, sound, was erased. The Sun Shadow dropped to a knee seemingly defeated. Yet drew his sword-back to embroidered scabbard. Don Honzo, Manufacturer of Black Miracles hues watered, "Ninety-Eight Shadows will hear this..." "...Peace was just a w-wish." Coherently was allowed to say his omen-prophecy, before a thousand-miniature slices, cuts, revealed from the invisible, rupturing through his body in a torrent. A magnificent brutal-display, slain by grim-petals. True Power is when weak and strong; kiss. Wielding the magenta flower betwixt fingers. Time to report this contract, fulfilled.

[Prev:Chapter]: I Blade - Choose ~ ♪"If We Being Real"♪

[synnthamonsugar]

one-word writing prompts, intractable, mara/eris?

Clad in thermal underlayers and the loose head scarf she wears at rest, Eris regards the Reef-purple skin-pressure suit laid out on the bunk before her in preparation for the day's mission outside the ship. Her eyes linger on its glistening glass dome helmet, boots and gloves that look almost too fashionable to be protective equipment. Next to it, a tangle of harness webbing meant to hold armor plates, supply pouches, and life support units waiting for them near the airlock of the vessel.

The elegant tech stands in contrast to the rest of the objects scattered on Eris' bunk. She didn't have much time to pack for the journey, but still managed to snag some essentials from Sanctuary. A worn field blanket, hive tablets, a leather-bound journal, dried asphodelia bound together with a string of beads, a rucksack filled with carving tools, ritual objects and mundane necessities. Visible only by its green glow, the ahamkara bone shard is nestled among the folds, and her armor lay in a crumpled heap. In the brief time they've been traveling together, Eris has managed to stake out at least this part of the ship as her own. It's comforting in its familiarity, even if it's a reminder of a place that is anything but.

"Manufactured precisely to your specifications," Mara comments, strolling into the quarters in an identical garment. It's not too different from her usual attire, Eris notes, though she lacks the usual capelette or cloak from her Dreaming City uniform, no fur ruff or badge or sash either. Combined with the tight-fitting hood that flattens out her voluminous hair, she looks distressingly bare, fragile almost, like a bird plucked clean of her plumage. 

She idly picks up the suit. In its inert state, it's stretchy, the densely woven network of wires inside bumpy under her fingertips. It feels pleasantly sturdy despite being so light, but she still puts it down after a moment.

"I appreciate the effort, Mara, but I have ways to protect myself." 

"And they are clever. However, I think it's prudent that your magic be spared for what lies in wait on the approach to the Pyramid."

"You underestimate the reserves of my power. It takes little more effort than breathing."

"We are entering the vacuum of space. Eris. . ." There's a pointedness to Mara's voice that pricks at her ears. She's heard this tone more on this trip than in all their years of work together, though this is the first time on the journey she's felt certain <i>Mara herself</i> is behind it. "In our joint ventures, I've always given you the freedom to operate as you see fit, as you've given me. The mission ahead is dangerous, even by our standards, and harm coming to one of us could spell doom for both. For this reason, I must insist you use the best tools available."

"How are you sure mine aren't?"

"Because mine is made with thousands of years of Awoken astronautical research." 

"I am not one of your people." She makes a sweeping gesture toward her armor and hive accoutrements, "This is what works for me."

Their gazes lock in a tense moment of silence. Eris tries not to feel impressed at how well Mara manages to maintain eye contact despite their mismatched numbers. Her emotions are inflamed enough that conceding even this would feel like a defeat. 

"This isn't about the suit, is it?"

Eris attempts to gather her words and fails because they aren't usually hers to say. To think about saying them at all makes her feel unlike herself, flush with an uneasy, jittery warmth. She may hide from the petty and cruel strangers of the Tower, but among her confidants she's never felt particular embarrassment about her physical condition. Had Asher not dirtied his hands with ichor helping change her bandages in the infirmary? Had Ikora not felt her horns and scales when she washed her hair early in her recovery?

So why was she hesitant to slip out of her veil and bare her face in front of Mara? Why was she self-conscious around the woman with whom she'd shared almost everything else: hope, fears, plans, secrets, even the power of life and death? At the Battle of Saturn, she thought they'd crossed the boundary between their carefully curated personae into something more vulnerable, more intimate, but perhaps she underestimated the elegant wall they'd built, mistaking secrets slid through the cracks for its fall. 

Prompted by Eris' silence, Mara tries continuing. "If you feel shy—"

" — I know I shouldn't be —"

"There is nothing wrong with that, but I assure you nothing you can show me will come as a shock—" 

"I don't want you to look at me and see the face of your killer."

Nary a ripple of surprise across her porcelain face. Instead, she takes a step closer, places her hands loose across Eris' shoulders, her touch cool but comforting.

"Beloved, I could see only you."

Eris feels no need to ask for Mara's word, her promise sealed with a feather-soft touch of lips.

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @megamindsecretlair @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime and @lotusbxtch ❤️🖤💜💖

So I have been working on a few rotating projects 👀 None are done. 🤣 Such is Nerdie. lol

The first preview is for part four of "Our Journey Across the Star Ocean":

“Grogu is a part of the razor Crest, the same as me. I care for him deeply, as for Din. I don't know if I can give him everything he needs but I can try.” The leather on your gloves crinkle with the tightening of your fists, “I believe Din would do almost anything for my safety, as long as it didn’t compromise Grogu’s well-being. He’s…an honorable and good man.” You and the Armorer keep your gazes locked on each other. Din and Grogu stroll into the forge and see the two of you locked in an unspoken battle of wits they assume. The child starts waving his hands and tries to hop out of Din’s arms toward the two of you. Turning, you shake your head at his little green face. “Calm down little one. We’re fine. We were just discussing something. It’s okay.” Din tilts his helmet, unsure if you’re being entirely truthful. He’s well aware how intimidating the Armorer can be.

What sort of discussion did Din and Grogo walk in on? Who knows? 😄

The second is from chapter 6 of "Weddings 101 with Dieter":

“I feel like I’m watching a romance film right now. My, my…It looks like we won’t need to manufacture a real relationship between the two of you.” A woman of about five feet seven inches with auburn hair and matching butterfly tattoos on each arm. She wore a sleeveless navy blue slim fit dress with black red bottom heels. Her red tote bag swayed with her steps toward the couple. “Sorry to interrupt darlings, such a sweet moment, but we need to go ahead and decide how we want the chips to fall.” She smiled, patting Maya’s shoulder, studying her wet face. She was a pretty woman, sure plump. That didn’t matter much, what would matter is what these two decided to do. “My name is Vanessa. I’m the leader of Dieter’s PR team. Meet me downstairs when you two are dressed, don’t take too long. There’s much to discuss.” The fixer disappeared out of the room and back down the stairs to Zack, it looks like there was a lot he left out in his updates.

I have a few others that I dunno if I should post previous of so why not a poll!

NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @laurfilijames @connectioneverywhere @tinytinymenace @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@rhoorl @604to647 @readingiskeepingmegoing @pedroshotwifey @perotovar

@chaithetics @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @saturn-rings-writes @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@alltheglitterandtheroar @alltheotps @cardierreh15 @djarinmuse @magpiepills

@trulybetty

And anyone else who’d like to participate 🤭

[surkhab7]

IMPACT GLOVES S7-05-04 Surkhab7

IMPACT GLOVES

Art No: S7-05-04

Palm Side: Orange Synthetic Leather

Raised Silicone Grip Palm Side.

Back: High Visibility Orange Forway Fabric.

Aramid/keviar Reinforced Fabric at Thumb Crotch

Thermo-Plastic Rubber (TPR) on the Back

Neoprene Cuff

Sizes: S – 3XL

Custom Made Products Manufacturer By Surkhab7

For inquiry Email Or Whatsapp

info@surkhab7.com

+92 301 6165522

[sirenjose]

Vera Analysis

Vera was born in Grasse, France. This was a town where originally tanning flourished in the 16th century, but it dies out eventually. This was in part due to competition with Nice, France, but also because they switched to focusing on perfume later.

Perfume or “perfumus” in Latin means “through smoke”.

Tanning left a strong stench, and due to complaints, it became fashionable to have scented gloves. Grasse produced the aroma oils that were put into the leather gloves, and slowly their reputation as a perfume hub increased.

Eventually there was a surge in demand for high quality fragrances, leading to perfume workshops being built and artisans known as “noses” or perfumers being employed who could blend and refine scents. These were people with a natural aptitude for scent, highly trained, finely tuned olfactory abilities as well knowledge of fragrance materials.

It took time for the perfume industry to rebound after the French Reign of Terror, which an emphasis on personal cleanliness around that time helped with. Napolean himself actually encouraged the cultivation of flowers for fragrances, leading to creation of flower fields around Grasse. Flowers sent to Paris were used to create luxury perfumes for the French elite.

The 1st of 3 large perfumeries in Grasse was Galimard in 1747, with Molinard, the 2nd, founded in 1849 (the 3rd was Fragonard, built in 1926). More factories appeared with time, especially with new processes found to absorb scent molecules. In 1850, there were about 45, but by 1875 there were 65. There were also 3 types of factories: plant growers, flower brokers, and manufacturers.

Victorian ladies weren’t known for wearing excessive fragrances. At least initially, the belief was that perfumes should be so “delicate” and so “lingeringly fragrant” that no one could define it as more than the “ghost of a sweet scent”. Anything too strong or overly-lavish was associated with people like prostitutes. Back then, perfumes were generally simpler, consisting mostly of florals and botanicals. They also didn’t apply perfume to the skin, instead using it on gloves, handkerchiefs, clothing, and cosmetics. A predominant scent back then was Eau de Cologne, which was a sharp clean scent that cut through other smells, though it was later surpassed by Bergamont and lemon oil.

Queen Victoria’s scent was the orange blossom. She also loved violets, which were popular in Victorian toiletries.

The focus on singular scent fragrances (smell of a single flower) changed by the end of the 19th century. There were several reasons for this. Raw materials started to be imported from abroad, helping reduce prices, as well as caused Grasse to focus on perfume production rather than flower fields and growing. Another reason was the improvement to the techniques they used. The discovery of solvent extraction techniques allowed for the extraction of fragrant oils without damaging the essence of delicate flowers and enabled the creation of more intricate and nuanced fragrances. The 19th century was when synthetics were 1st made and used. Houbigant and Guerlain were the first to use synthetic products: Fougère royale in 1884, Jicky in 1889, which are considered the 1st modern perfume. Finally, due to synthetic perfumes becoming cheaper to make, wealthy ladies wanted more complex, unique, and as yet unsynthesized perfumes to distance themselves from the lower class.

Going back to Vera, the “Vera” we know in game, the perfumer, is actually Chloe Nair. The real Vera Nair was Chloe’s twin sister.

Chloe herself was initially a timid girl, the type who was easily frightened and lacking in self-confidence, but the 1 person she felt happy with was her twin, Vera, the only person who truly understood Chloe. Unlike Chloe, Vera was cheerful and confident. Despite their differences, they were extremely close and did almost everything together.

But she was the only one.

Adults in their hometown of Grasse, France unfortunately often compared the 2, in a judgmental, self-righteous way. So, it was no surprised they essentially labeled Chloe, who started working and experimenting with perfumes from a young age, as the negative, weird one who “only seemed to know fragrance” and how to make perfumes, while Vera was the “elegant and flattering beauty” popular with the townspeople. As a result of Chloe’s nervous and unlikeable character, they alienated the more fragile of the 2 sisters, which led Chloe to becoming increasingly negative, sensitive, and suspicious. Seeing just how popular her twin was in comparison probably reduced her own self-confidence further.

Despite how much this hurt Chloe and worsened the outlook she had on herself and others, and despite how much the residents loved Vera, Vera’s opinion of Chloe differed from everyone else. She knew the truth of just how skilled Chloe was with perfumes, and just how deep her knowledge was of them. Chloe’s skills were supported by her superior sense of smell and sensitivity to scents, which she saw as each “[telling] a story of nature”.

Not even the rest of Chloe’s family supported her though, as Craig Nair, the “Family Store Manager” (potentially her father, but we can’t be completely sure) told her “If you want your work to have a chance to appear in front of others, you need to cease your weird and comical endeavors”.

The title of this deduction is “Attempt”, followed by the line “Creativity is never liked before it has been proven successful”. This is a bit confusing as Grasse then was still a perfumery hub back then, so Vera being involved with perfumes at all shouldn’t be a problem.

Based on what we’ve heard about Grasse’s history and the development of perfumery, my best guess to explain Craig’s words is this was when simple scents, for that emphasis on personal cleanliness, were still the most popular, before the desire for more complex fragrances. As I said, there were negative connotations of any scent that was considered too lavish. If Vera was one of those beginning to experiment with something besides single scent fragrances, that could explain why he’d talk about her weird “endeavors”, as well as explain the title being “attempt” and the line about “creativity”.

Complex fragrances, like the deduction say, weren’t “liked” before they were “proven successful”. Craig doesn’t seem the type to want to take risks. He wants to stick with what has always worked. The townspeople are similar, though they also don’t understand how interested Vera is in perfume, or the “stories” tell from each scent. But it’s also possible Vera, least to the townspeople “only seems to know fragrance”, aka she pretty much focused all her time on perfumes, could’ve been more than just because she was interested in it. It’s also possible she leaned into it because it was the 1 thing she was good at, while everyone (likely including Craig) saw her sister as the better one. That or because everyone, especially Craig, never saw her as good enough, so she tried to stand out in the 1 way she knew how.

I think the idea Vera was experimenting with complex fragrances while most others, like Craig, were still focused on single scents could be backed up by deduction 5, which includes the line “Two roses, five parts sandalwood, one part geranium, one part rosewood”. Similarly, Vera had another quote in 2018 that involved multiple ingredients: “The secret formula of love: three sprigs of tuberose, one sprig of jasmine, one sprig of clove, half a sprig of chrysanthemum and hyacinth”.

Going back to deduction 5, we see that the fragrance she was developing there was for her sister. This helps show how close the 2 were, as well as likely how grateful Chloe was for Vera’s support. Vera was Chloe’s lifeline. The 1 person who was “willing to listen, take her seriously, and support her in endeavors that seem strange to others”. Vera was Chloe’s outlet, a way to help keep her sane despite how bad everything else around her was.

Unfortunately, this didn’t last. When Chloe sees the news about Vera opening a new perfume shop, and the admiration and fame she gets from it, Chloe feels betrayed. We can see her anger and her losing control of her emotions by the way the newspaper is described to have been “shredded and pasted together”, as well as how deduction 6 includes the line “Incredible: These should have belonged to me!”.

Then there’s deduction 7, titled “vengeance”, which also includes the word “resentful”.

In this same deduction, as well as the next, we essentially learn that Chloe killed her sister (with a dagger) then took her identity. By becoming “Vera”, and taking ownership of the perfume shop the real Vera started, Chloe finally gets the attention and admiration she’s wanted for so long, as we see from deduction 8’s line “So that is what it is like to become the focus of the masses”. Her life now feels like it is finally “on track”.

To everyone else, Chloe seems to have just “disappeared”, though Chloe doesn’t think anyone cares. It doesn’t matter. “Vera” is enjoying the fame and status brought by stealing her sister’s identity, as we see from the line “there seems to be a disparaging look in her eyes and she is enjoying it”. Chloe is now “Vera”, and her personality changes to fit her new identity, as well as a result of the reputation and admiration she is now getting, as she is now described in the early version of the artbook as “arrogant, hypercritical, and graceful”.

We don’t see any immediate thoughts or feelings from “Vera” regarding her killing her sister, but we do see her guilt and regret when she learns the truth upon reading the real Vera’s diary. How Vera had started the perfume shop and everything that went along with it to ensure Chloe’s talents wouldn’t be “buried” to “prove to those biased people”. We also learn as part of this diary entry that the reason Vera didn’t tell Chloe in advance or why she was doing this because Chloe was “proud” and “wouldn’t want me helping her this way”.

Which implies, if not for Chloe’s pride, Vera may have warned Chloe in advance. Or she could’ve just out right asked Chloe more directly if she (Vera) could help.

I at least partially think Chloe’s pride developed similarly to Edgar’s about painting, which was a combination of self-confidence in their skills as well as I think a semi defensive mechanism to help deal with the unhappiness around them (for Chloe this being the way she was looked down on by everyone in town and by her own family besides Vera) as well as try to prevent themselves from being hurt. Unfortunately, by closing yourself off, it also means distancing yourself from those who genuinely care about you, and for Chloe that was Vera. Maybe Chloe and Vera were a bit more distant when they’d grown up, compared to when they were younger. This potentially could’ve contributed to the build up of emotions in Chloe, with the day she made the assumption that her own sister, her last lifeline, had betrayed her, being the metaphorical straw that broke the camels back.

But as deduction 9 says “Not all mistakes can be corrected”. Chloe had made her “choice” by killing “the only person in the world who truly loved her”. Even worse for Chloe is the fact she had gotten used to living as “Vera”, which had given her the chance to finally achieve her desires and receive the compliments and praise from others she had felt she deserved for so long.

As we see in her 3rd letter, she is described as trying to “escape reality”. This same letter seems to confirm what was likely parts of Chloe’s real personality, as it describes her as “alert and oversensitive” and “mentally fragile”, with the 3rd note, being she “has a conscience” fitting with Chloe’s feelings over killing her sister after she learned the truth. The manor owner states Chloe suffers “something close to a mental breakdown”, which is likely why she wants to forget, but also I think is a term that would fit with how I think Chloe was before. I think Chloe was already close to snapping before she saw her sister start the new perfumery, while her sister’s actions were just the thing to tip her over the edge.

 Vera knows she can’t bring her sister back to life, but she also is unable to deal with the complicated tangle of feelings she now has, which are a mixture of sheer guilt, pain, regret, sadness, and devastation. This all combined with Vera’s happiness at living as “Vera” complicating this mess further. As a result, she seeks to forget what happened. Specifically, she wants to forget that she killed her twin, the real Vera. She gets her chance when she receives a “mysterious perfume recipe from an eccentric black marketer”. Using this recipe, she is able to create “Euphoria”, which is described as “anyone who smells this kind of fragrance will be immersed in it and forget everything. But the second note of the perfume is so short-lived that no matter how much she improves it, it cannot be retained”. So, in her desire to perfect the recipe and make it longer lasting, she heads to the manor, which was wear the recipe had come from.

[zikarsportsinternational]

#drivergloves #mensstyle #zikarbrands #zikersports# #marketing #produts #sportswear #manufacturer #mens #mensfashion #gloves #fullgloves #leathergloves #leather for buying and more information about the products please visit our site www.zikarsports.com Zikarsports786@gmail.com my whatsapp 0092-3086855176 https://www.instagram.com/p/CkbQlYioLP5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[whitedahlia13]

That’s Where You’ll Find Me

Chapter 6: Once in a Lullaby

Fandom: Teen Wolf / The Wizard of Oz AU

Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Kira Yukimura

There's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby - Over the Rainbow by Harold Arlen and E. Harburg

The Jeep is nearly perfect. It’s the same model as Stiles’s – a CJ5, possibly manufactured in the early 1980s. It has a robin egg blue exterior with black doors and a hard top. There’s dried mud on the rims and a few dents here and there. It looks used and abused, but most of all, loved. Lydia can tell by the way Noah glides his hand across the hood on his way to open the passenger door for her.

She climbs in, wave of nostalgia rising with the scent of aged leather and motor oil. It makes her pause, seeking other signs of familiarity. She finds them in the AM FM radio with the cracked tuning dial, the scuffed-up console, and the glove compartment hatch that’s being held shut with a piece of duct tape.

There is only one thing missing. A police scanner. Its absence makes her wonder about Noah’s dad. Maybe he never installed one in the Jeep. Maybe law enforcement officers have some other means of communication. Maybe he isn’t even the sheriff. Maybe...

“Is everything all right?” Noah asks.

“Yeah, just...taking it all in.” She thinks she must have tears in her eyes because his face has become blurry.

“You must be wondering what you got yourself into,” he says. “I know she looks rough, but I promise she’ll get us to Emerald City. I can fix pretty much anything that breaks down, and if all else fails...there’s always duct tape.”

She snickers, uncertain whether it’s a laugh or a sob tickling her throat. “Yeah, there’s always duct tape,” she echoes with a smile.

He makes sure she is comfortably situated with Prada on her lap, before closing the door and striding around to the driver’s side.

“So, I had this idea,” he begins, tossing his jacket on the back seat.

“Okay...”

“First, I need to know how adamantly opposed you are to theft.”

Keep reading: ao3