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harrysfolklore · 6 months

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another instagram prompt with madison beer as face claim but relationship focused please!! 🥺

WELL HELLO THIS IS MY FIRST F1 BLURB 🥹 i’m kinda nervous idk why but i hope you like it! i left this open for a part two so lmk if that’s something you’d like to see

btw this is obviously inspired by taylor and joe breakup and taylor and travis lol, also harry ilysm sorry for making you the villain here, anyways, ENJOY!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | PART TWO HERE

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yourinstagram THE SPINNIN TOUR STATRS IN 10 DAYS 🥲🤍 who am i seeing there??

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ynfan1 SO FUCKING EXCITED

conangray LETS GO 🔥

ynfan2 this is going to be the biggest concert tour in history and i’m so serious

↳ ynfan1 i mean the pre sale broke ticketmaster, three stadium dates on each city sold out. it’s going to be insane

harryfan1 i can’t wait for the boyfriend harry content this tour is going to give us

ynfan3 she’s getting ready to make history

annetwist ❤️❤️❤️

harryfan2 soooo ready to see harry at the vip box on opening night and all the other nights

dualipa an angel 🤍

oliviarodrigo 💘

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harryupdates Harry out in London today !

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harryfan1 MY BUUUUB

ynfan1 what is he doing in london??? the spinnin tour starts today

harryfan2 HARRY GET YOUR ASS TO ARIZONA RN

ynfan2 he’s not attending opening night :(

harryfan3 what is he mad about lol

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yourinstagram 7th night of the spinnin tour done ! houston thank you so much for your love and your loud singing, i’m making the best memories of my life on this tour thanks to you 🤎

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ynfan1 TOUR OF THE CENTURY

conangray this tour changed my life fr

↳ ynfan2 BEST OPENING ACT EVER

harryfan1 okay but WHEN is harry doing his spinnin tour debut

↳ ynfan1 i wonder the same thing 🤔

arianagrande 🖤

charles_leclerc I can’t wait to see the show 🙌🏻

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLES ???

↳ charlesfan2 he’s a pop girlie wbk

harryfan2 get your ass to the next show NOW

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1 and 109,035 others

people It’s over 💔#YN and #HarryStyles are calling it quits after six years of dating. Tap the link in our bio for the full story.

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harryfan1 WHAT?????

ynfan1 NO WAY

harryfan2 nah i don’t believe this

ynfan2 but what about lover??? delicate ??? pov??? so american ??? golden hour ?? paper rings ?? WERE ALL THOSE SONGS NOT REAL

harryfan3 man im so confused right now, how did this happen

ynfan2 lord she must be heartbroken and she has to continue with the tour performing for 70k people every night

harryfan4 this is clearly fake

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 29,827 others

profesionalfangirlie UM HELLO I JUST MET CHARLES LECLERC AT YN’S SHOW !!???? istg i just wanted a refill for my lavender haze margarita and he was there in line too WTF ?? #thespinnintour

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charlesfan1 NO WAY 😭😭😭

ynfan1 THIS IS SUCH A SLAY

ynfan2 yn is a celebrity to celebrities

charlesfan2 HES SUCH A FANBOY

charlesfan3 i need to see him trading friendship bracelets

charlesfan4 HOTTEST MAN ALIVE

ynfan3 he’s about to experience the best show of his life

charlesfan5 THE CONTENT WE DESERVE

ynfan3 WAS HE AT THE VIP TENT??

↳ profesionalfangirlie i think he’s up there in a suite of the stadium with family and friends

↳ charlesfan1 OHHHH

liked by charlesfan1, charlesfan2 and 9,265 others

charlesupdates “I wanted to give YN a friendship bracelet with my number on it, since I knew her shows were all about friendship bracelets. She didn’t want to meet me after the show so I took it personal. Other than that the show was completely out of this world, she’s amazing.” -Charles on attending the Spinnin Tour for Fedez podcast !

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charlesfan1 OMG???

charlesfan2 THIS MAN ISTH

ynfan1 girl wtf why didn’t you want to mee him ? @yourinstagram

↳ ynfan2 i bet it was a timing thing and not her actively not wanting to meet him 🥹

charlesfan3 is he shooting his shot ???? publicly

charlesfan4 NOT CHARLES BEGGING FOR A CHANCE

ynfan3 this would be such a powerful ship… ferrari’s golden boy and the pop princess.. do you see the vision…

↳ charlesfan1 I SO DO

INSTAGRAM DMS

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yourinstagram last night of the spinnin tour in the us 🥹🥹 you can tell by my fave here that i’m going to miss these crowds every single day. THANK YOU for coming to the shows, singing every lyric and making friendship bracelets, all the memories we made together will stay with me forever 💘 LATIN AMERICA YOU’RE NEXT 🇲🇽🇦🇷🇧🇷

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ynfan1 IM SOBBINGGGGGG

ynfan2 IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT SHOWS

arianagrande easily the best show anyone has ever put on, love you sister 🤎

theweeknd The GOAT 🐐

ynfan3 she finished her stadium tour after getting out of a 6 year long relation and being completely heartbroken. she loves her art more than anything

↳ ynfan1 she can do it with a broken heart because she’s THAT good

charles_leclerc Congratulations, excited for what’s coming next 🙌🏻

↳ charlesfan1 CHARLIE ???

↳ charlesfan2 WHATS GOING ON 😭

ynfan4 harry styles you have nothing on her

liked by ynfan1, charlesfan1 and 10,296 others

ynupdates YN AND CHARLES LECLERC OUT AND ABOUT TONIGHT !!!

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ynfan1 HUHHHH???

ynfan2 GOOD GOD

charlesfan1 IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING

ynfan3 wow and some people clowned him when he said he wanted to give yn a bracelet with his number

harryfan1 she’s dating someone already ??? wow

↳ ynfan1 she has all the right do it especially after realizing that she wasted 6 years of her life with someone who never made any sacrifice for her

↳ charlesfan1 ntm that charles has done more in what a week??? (commenting on her posts, holding hands in public, not making her run from the paps) than harry did in 6 years

↳ harryfan2 i will always mourn ynrry

ynfan3 IM SOOO HERE FOR YNS WAG ERA

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yourinstagram my first race 🏁 i had the best time with the best people🤍

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ynfan1 OMFGGGGG

charlesfan1 the jacket ????? the bracelet ????? the last pic ????? INSANIYY

dualipa ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

ynfan2 THIS IS SO SERIOUS ALSJAKA

harryfan1 she never posted harry in their 6 years together but she posts dumps about her rebound 😭

↳ ynfan1 as if harry wasn’t an ass who never wanted their relationship to be publicly acknowledged, bffr

ynfan2 IM SO HAPPY FOR HER

charlesfan2 i lowkey love this, charles is proof that persistence is key

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳ charlesfan1 AHHHHHH

↳ charlesfan3 I CANT DO THIS

ynfan3 idk if they’re dating but it’s so good to see her proudly attending events and posting about them and not hiding to please the person she’s with

leclerc_pascale Belle 🤍

↳ charlesfan1 MAAAANNNN ITS SERIOUS

lilyhme queenie ⭐️

↳ ynfan1 told ya she was going to befriend all the wags 😭

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charles_leclerc Perfect race ❤️

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charlesfan1 LOML

ynfan1 perfect bc yn was there so true

arthur_leclerc 🙌🏻

charlesfan2 checo in the back is killing me

ynfan2 HARD LAUNCH YN ON INSTA NOW !!!

leclerc_pascale ❤️

harryfan1 you’ll never be harry

charlesfan3 i need yn on every race now

yourinstagram 😍😍😍❤️‍🔥

↳ ynfan1 HEEEEELP

↳ ynfan2 CONTROL YOURSELF

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 9,643 others

charlesupdates Charles and YN in Argentina today !! YN has a show there tomorrow, we love a supportive boyfriend 🥺

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charlesfan1 OMFGGGG

charlesfan2 WE STAN THIS

ynfan1 maannn this is what she deserves, someone who's willing to travel across the globe to support her

↳ ynfan2 i can't believe harry just went to ONE show of the positions tour and we used to think that was the most romantic thing ever

charlesfan3 I KNEWWWW he would be at every show once her tour started again

ynfan3 I CANT WAIT FOR ALL THE CONTENT

charlesfan4 we need a charles cam at the spinnin tour crowd

liked by ynfan1, charlesfan1 and 14,382 others

ynupdates YN JUST CHANGED THE KARMA BRIDGE TO "KARMA IS THE GUY ON THE PITS COMING STRAIGHT HOME TO ME"

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ynfan1 WTFFFF

ynfan2 SHES INSANE 😭

charlesfan1 LORD PLEASE HELP ME

ynfan3 she's so silly. she's also deranged

charlesfan2 what a time to be alive

charlesfan3 MAN I CANT STOP WATCHING THE VIDEO OF CHARLES REACTION

ynfan4 FRUIT BOY YOURE SO OVERRRRR

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charles_leclerc The Spinnin Tour🤍

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charlesfan1 GOING INSANE

ynfan1 OMG BABYYYYY

leclerc_pascale 💕❤️

ynfan2 FINALLY SOMEONE WHO POSTS ABOUT HER !! AND ATTENDS HER SHOWS !! AND IS SUPPORTIVE !!

charlesfan2 this boy is down BAD

carlossainz55 🙌🏻

ynfan3 i cant believe some people still want her old relationship when we have THIS

charlesfan3 charlie's popstar boyfriend era

yourinstagram thank you for being here 🥺

↳ ynfan1 SHE DESERVES THIS AND MORE

liked by charlesfan1, ynfan1 and 29,265 others

thepopbuzz YN and Charles Leclerc spotted on a yatch in the Bahamas, the couple seems to be enjoying their days off before they have to go back to touring and racing respectively. Tap the link in our bio for more details 👌

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charlesfan1 AHHHHHHHHH

ynfan1 i love one fairytale couple

harryfan1 trying to rewrite history i see

ynfan2 WE STAN

charlesfan2 that should be me

ynfan3 finally a boyfriend who likes pda

charlesfan3 I LOVE THEM SO BAD

liked by yourinstagram, arthur_leclerc and 4,027,119 others

charles_leclerc I wanted to take pictures of my girl but she beat me to it

A much needed break

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charlesfan1 STOP THIS

ynfan1 IM SPIRALING

carlossainz55 Enjoy mates 🙌🏻

lilyhme cuties 💓

charlesfan2 THE BOYFRIEND CONTENT I SIGNED UP FOR

ynfan2 HIS 🥹 GIRL 🥹

yourinstagram lover booooy ❤️

↳ ynfan3 AHHHH MY HEART

charlesfan3 we love simp charlieeee

ynfan4 i can’t stress how happy this makes me. from running to get in a van to this

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yourinstagram SURPRISE !! my new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT is coming soon 🤍

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND POETRY

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ynfan1 KAHAIAJAYAABAJAI

ynfan2 WHAT ON EARTH

oliviarodrigo NO WAY ‼️‼️‼️

conangray thank you mother for constantly serving

ynfan3 THE COVER ??? THE NAME ?? THAT LYRIC ??? we’re not ready

charlesfan1 oooohhhh this is exciting

ynfan4 and fruit boy better HIDE

dualipa 🖤🖤🖤🖤

postmalone 🙌🏻

charles_leclerc So proud of you ❤️

↳ charlesfan2 AWEEEEEEES

↳ charlesfan3 i know they just started dating but i hope we get songs about him

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kovilm · 5 months

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Rada Krivokapic Radonjic is a famous fashion designer and stylist whose signature style of classic, elegant yet luxurious ready-to-wear helped introduce ease and streamlined modernity to 21th-century dressing.

Early life

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic is originally from Kotor, Montenegro. Her parents are father Djuro Krivokapic and mother Vidosava Kaludjerovic. She also has an older brother named Radoslav Rajo Krivokapic. Her brother is a sailor, her mother a health care worker/nurse at Kotor General Hospital, and her father a factory worker.

Education

Talking about her educational background, she passed her Master's level in 2018. The program was funded by the German Government and was also designed according to the German education system. She had enrolled in Law, Professional, and Occupational Pedagogy, Trade, and Economy. She joined the School of Fashion and Specialization for Fashion Designer and Stylist. She graduated from this school of fashion from Belgrade in 1996, which was under the Paris system in collaboration with the Academy of Fine Arts. For her fashion school, she did an internship under Giorgio Armani Milan in 1997. Working for one of the world's most famous fashion creators, she got the opportunity to meet the best fashion creators to advance her knowledge base. Likewise, she completed her Ph.D. in Fashion Design in Belgrade in 1998.

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic, a visionary in the world of fashion, hails from the picturesque town of Kotor, Montenegro. Her creative journey has been nothing short of exceptional, combining classic designs with a deep commitment to sustainability. Born into a humble family, Rada’s passion for fashion stemmed from her early exposure to the industry through her work with esteemed designers like Giorgio Armani, Gianni Versace, Valentino Garavani, Karl Lagerfeld, and Roberto Cavalli.

Professional Life and Career

Talking about her professional life, she is famous as a designer and a stylist. She is the founder of Rada Krivokapic Radonjic, Kovilm and Rada Radonjic luxury clothing brands. They were established in the city of Kotor, Montenegro. In 2006, she designed the collection "Ostvarene Rijeci". The collection was inspired by her deceased father. Moreover, she collaborated with model Filip Kapisoda in 2010 and had a number of fashion shows in 2018. Furthermore, she also organized several fashion shows in the city of Yugoslavia. She also work as Costume Designer in Kotor. Moreover, Rada also designed a new fashion accessory called "Kovilm". She designed it for the 2019 fashion show called "Svijet Bez Sukoba". Kovilm is a garment worn around the neck, which symbolizes the transformation from tie and bow-tie. Additionally, Rada has also written the books 'Odijevanje' that translates to "Dressing" and 'Krojenje i sivenje' that translates to "Tailoring and sewing". Her books are related to the issues in the fashion and clothing world, which is influential for aspiring models, designers, and stylists. She is mostly based in her hometown Kotor. However, she also has her professional links in Podgorica, the capital of Montenegro. She designed common folk costume called Zentivns 2022.

Awards, Net Worth

Rada Krivokapic Radonjic has won several awards for her humanitarian contributions and assistance. She has also received Humanitarian Contribution Awards. In 2023, Rada Krivokapic Radonjic is The World's Best Fashion Designer of The Year 2023 London, United Kingdom by Corporate LiveWire.

Personal Life

Reflecting on her personal life, Rada Krivokapic Radonjic gave birth to four children Nedjeljka Nadja Radonjic (1999), Valentina Radonjic (2001), Nebojsa Radonjic (2007) and Teodora Radonjic (2013). Furthermore, she maintains a good professional and personal life, free of scandals and controversies.

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danielhowell · 7 months

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DOOMED MERCH HAS DROPPED!

No this is not a drill - after touring the world (that is ending), probably the coolest merch I will ever release is finally here - we have scoured the corners of the earth to pull together a collection of WE'RE ALL DOOMED! merch to celebrate the recent show (and slit) and bring it online for you.

From the tour date t-shirt, to the iconic DOOMED ambigram hoodie, the black metal longsleeve and ..the 'DanHub tee' - choose what your apocalyptic aesthetic is.

WORLDWIDE: shop.danielhowell.com USA: us.shop.danielhowell.com EUROPE: eu.shop.danielhowell.com AUSTRALIA: au.shop.danielhowell.com

As a SPECIAL (wow) online-only offer - every order of the super limited quantity Vegan Leather Jacket (with rapture art on the reverse) will also ship with a totally unique Polaroid selfie that I took while thinking about death!

I make no promises what I will be doing - it could be a cute smile, or a middle-finger. It's just whatever the vibe was in the moment. Who knows what someone will trade for the rare under-chin angle that some lucky person will get? (I am so sorry)

And it's not just garments - we've also got rare collectors items to snatch including the interval playlist cassette tape, and the 'Tears of My Enemies' water bottle, that I drink out of myself everyday while manifesting people's downfall.

Lastly, look out for the signed Ally Pally London show posters commemorating the final performances, which may come with fingerprints allowing you to perfectly fraud my identity, due to my left-handed sharpie smudging.

I want to say thank you to the tens of thousands of people that tuned into the stream to celebrate my show - without you it wouldn't have been possible to capture for posterity and now the message can live on. I'm going to begin my quest to determine where DOOMED will live forever, and who knows if we'll manage to wrangle any of the other rare itemz🐝 along with it in the future. I appreciate you all and I can't wait to see you all looking gnarly as fuck scaring the normies in this merch. Thanks 🖤 - Dan

#danielhowell #wad #doomedtour

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city-of-ladies · 5 months

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"Women could be found working on construction sites, if only occasionally, including in specialized roles such as carpenters and masons. The research is found in the article, “Appropriate to Her Sex?” Women’s Participation on the Construction Site in Medieval and Early Modern Europe,” by Shelley E. Roff.

She surveyed a wide variety of records from throughout Western Europe, including tax records, inventories of wages paid on construction sites, and municipal accounts, and discovered numerous instances of women working alongside men on construction sites as far back at the 13th century. Most of these women were employed as day laborers, carrying out tasks such as moving water and building supplies around the sites, digging ditches and serving as assistants to bricklayers and stonemasons. For example, in the Spanish city of Seville during the 14th century, women were hired to dig trenches for the foundation of a new city wall, while at the nearby city of Toledo, one or two women were hired each day for the construction of the city’s cathedral, where they gathered lime and worked on the roof. Meanwhile in the French city of Toulouse, almost half the laborers working on the Perigord college site were women. Ross also finds several examples from England and Germany.

Roff notes that previous historians have seen many examples of women working on construction sites in their research, but they had believed that these were just abnormal exceptions caused by economic crises, or because the male population had been killed off through war or disease. But her new study suggests that women construction workers were more than just odd occurences. She explains that “the expansion of urban centers starting in the thirteenth century set off a trend of increasing female employment for day laborers and in the crafts, which only began to contract on occasion for women working in the crafts in the sixteenth century with ensuing economic crises.”

She also notes that in almost all accounts surveyed, the women were paid at a lower rate than the men, which would make the “a cost-effective solution” for site supervisors looking for ways to reduce expenses. The women who took these jobs would have come from society’s poor – those women who could not maintain their households and families just from their husbands’ (if they had one) income.

Roff also finds records showing women taking part in specialized building trades. In London in 1383, Katherine Lightfoot is recorded as the supplier of 2,000 painted tiles for bath in the King’s palace. Meanwhile, tax records from Paris during the years 1296 and 1313 reveal the existence of two female masons, a tiler and a plasterer. These women were not poorer individuals, rather they were the wives of male craftsman, and in some cases their widows. The 15th-century French writer Christine de Pizan noted in her book The Treasury of the City of Ladies that craftswomen, “should learn all the shop details so that she can properly supervise the workers when her husband is away or not paying attention.”

Women workers could be found on the medieval construction site, Medievalists.net

#history #women in history #women's history #working women #historyedit #middle ages #medieval women #medieval history #european history #french history #spanish history #historical #historyblr

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i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end · 1 month

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A list of Sherlock Holmes's Hyperfixations Monographs

"Yes, I have been guilty of several monographs. They are all upon technical subjects." (The Sign of Four)

Tobacco ash: Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccoes - "I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco." (The Boscombe Valley Mystery) / "I have made a special study of cigar ashes—in fact, I have written a monograph upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can distinguish at a glance the ash of any known brand, either of cigar or of tobacco." (A Study in Scarlet) / "Here, for example, is one ‘Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccoes.’ In it I enumerate a hundred and forty forms of cigar-, cigarette-, and pipe-tobacco, with colored plates illustrating the difference in the ash." (The Sign of the Four)

Trailing/Tracking - "Here is my monograph upon the tracing of footsteps, with some remarks upon the uses of plaster of Paris as a preserver of impresses." (The Sign of the Four)

Hands and occupations- "Here, too, is a curious little work upon the influence of a trade upon the form of the hand, with lithotypes of the hands of slaters, sailors, corkcutters, compositors, weavers, and diamond-polishers." (The Sign of the Four)

Ciphers - "I am fairly familiar with all forms of secret writings, and am myself the author of a trifling monograph upon the subject, in which I analyze one hundred and sixty separate ciphers [...]." (The Adventure of the Dancing Men)

18th century?/historical manuscipts - "It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have read my little monograph upon the subject." (The Hound of the Baskervilles)

Bees/beekeeping: Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with Some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen - "Alone I did it. Behold the fruit of pensive nights and laborious days when I watched the little working gangs as once I watched the criminal world of London.”

Articles:

Theory of criminology: The Book of Life - "Its somewhat ambitious title was “The Book of Life,” and it attempted to show how much an observant man might learn by an accurate and systematic examiniation of all that came his way."

To be written:

Malingering - "Malingering is a subject upon which I have sometimes thought of writing a monograph. A little occasional talk about half-crowns, oysters, or any other extraneous subject produces a pleasing effect of delirium.” (The Adventure of the Dying Detective)

Dogs - "I have serious thoughts of writing a small monograph upon the uses of dogs in the work of the detective.” (The Adventure of the Creeping Man)

Typewriters/Typewriting- "I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime." (A Case of Identity)

Please feel free to add what I missed!

#turns out both Watson and Holmes are obsessed with hands great great great #the tobacco ash one is illustrated i'm CRYING #also 'The Book of Life'?? Holmes you have no right to criticise Watson's style!#Sherlock Holmes I love you so much #I want to put him into my pocket aaahh #sherlock holmes #acd canon #monographs

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bippiti · 7 months

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catalyst clc16 x rockstar! reader

after the release of your new album, life has been hectic as you've been running around doing shows. only problem is you seem to have only one person on your mind. little do you know he's having the same issue

an part two! any feedback is appreciated and please like + rb!

if you want a visual guide for the band .

part one next part

tags @bloodyymaryyy @guiseppetsunoda @maxverstappendefender @charizznorizz

yourig

liked by king, charles_leclerc and 42,836,364 others

yourig thanks for coming out london! nyc see you soon x

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user ughh i wish i couldve come :((

yourig next time lovee💜

user sounded so good

user anyone else gonna talk about the album afterparty???

user who cares bro😭 theyre adults and tbh they would be a power couple

user right?! ive been thinking the same thing, shes not a good influence on him

user im sorry do yk y/n??? how would u know that lmfao

king looking good!

liked by yourig

user where is the fit from???

user i think vivienne westwood!

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you sighed, scrolling through your comments. it had been almost a month after your albums release, and some people still were bringing up the hug with charles. i mean, seriously it was just a hug. it wasn't like you guys had made out or anything.

both your label and ferrari were sponsored by celsius, and your management had met with one of ferraris pr heads. they had agreed to work together to promote the new album, and had picked charles because he was a fan of your music.

you clicked instantly on the first day of set, but it also helped that you spoke fluent french (you had an obsession with indila when you were younger and forced yourself to learn it) the lack of a language barrier, coupled with the fact that you guys had similar interests made it inevitable that you both would become friends.

after the album launch party, you were exhausted. you had woken up at 4am for promo shoots, and had been running around all day before singing your whole album (which was around an hour long) to the attendees. it was fun, and you wouldnt trade your career for the whole world, but man you were tired.

as you were heading out, you spotted charles and you both stopped to talk

"tu as bien fait là-dedans" he said, smiling as he pushed his hands into his pockets (you did good in there)

"merci! les heures de pratique m’ont aidé. je pense que je pourrais oublier les paroles si j’essayais" you smile as he laughed (thanks! the hours of practice helped. i dont think i could forget the lyrics if i tried)

"en pratiquant son art on devient artisan" (practice makes perfect)

you nod, turning as you hear your bandmate siobahn call for you

you look back to him, saying your goodbyes and quickly hugging him before running after her.

that was it. just a friendly hug. it's not like he liked you, and if he knew you liked him, you doubt he would still be friends with you.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourig, pierregasly and 305,387 others

charles_leclerc i won. maybe next time @/pierregasly 😘

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user just realized pierre had a chance to fork the king and the rook in

user not y/n liking this...

user so cute😍

pierregasly i almost had it

charles_leclerc of course you did

user my fav french men

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after having checkmate charles sat back, smiling smugly as he looked at pierre try and fail to make a move. giving up, he raised his hands in defeat.

"quand vais-je jamais te battre?" he said sighing as he chuckled (when will i ever beat you)

"peut-être dans une autre vie" (maybe in another life)

scoffing, pierre changed the subject.

"so i heard you're with some rockstar these days"

"i most definitley am not"

"sure, sure. you might not be dating her but i can tell you like her"

charles paused, having a mini crisis. ok. so maybe he did like you. he couldn't help it, honestly. throughout filming ,and even after he had grown to really admire you. not only just as an artist, but as a person as well. he honestly hoped you'd be able to meet up afterwards, but he hasnt been able to see you since. between his preseason training and your concerts, you both are rarely free, let alone in the same country.

he told all of this to pierre, who listened quietly, nodding along before telling him his masterplan. he was gonna help him out, what kindve friend would he be if he didnt?

hearing the notification sound go off on your phone, you picked it up. your eyebrows raised as you read it

part 3??

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #scudia ferrari #charles leclerc x yn #f1 x reader #f1 smau #charles leclerc smau #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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wield-the-mighty-pen · 11 months

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Can we all just think about what this day has been for Adrien?

Imagine you wake up for the day, excited to have your bi-yearly scheduled lunch with your father, only to be told he has canceled on you once again and when you finally get the courage to speak your mind and talk to him, he interrupts you and tells you that you will be moving away from your home and beloved friends (with a person you hate) for an indefinite period of time. Imagine then, that you head to school, where you share a tender moment with someone who is definitely not just a friend and they give you the advice to talk to your father.

You then get home from school, where you are ambushed by your manipulative cousin, who is offering to trade places with you and help you out with your problem, only to discover he is scheming again. Before you can do anything about that, you have to go save the world with your superhero partner, who you've been feeling a little neglected by lately and for some reason, all those negative feelings seem to be manifesting right now during the fight. She then call in some reinforcements, and this new guy, that she keeps fawning over is giving you bad vibes (it's definitely not just jealously guys).

You save the day and head home, this time with the intent of actually confronting your father, only to be stopped by your superhero partner, who for some reason is looking for your civilian counterpart. She claims that she handed you a miraculous and you very quickly realize that your scheming and manipulative cousin, was scheming and manipulative.

You watch as your partner has a panic attack and do your best to calm her down and help her retain some miraculous. You hear her muffled cries through the door and when you go to check on her, she's gone. You find out that the villain you fight has got a hold of the miraculous and you go to find your partner.

You find her and manager to comfort her, all the while sharing a not-at-all platonic moment with her, and you prepare to fight the villain who has re-monikered himself and given himself new powers.

You see the rabbit miraculous and what looks like a future version of yourself show up and you realize that you will have to go through time in a time battle to reclaim the rabbit miraculous. You are given a rabbit miraculous to use and your very concept of space and time are altered as a result. After a lengthy, convoluted battle, you say goodbye to a good friend and decide to head to London to interrogate your aunt. The interrogation leading nowhere, you decide to head home only to be immediately called by your partner asking you to head to the wax museum and pose like a statue (which totally brings back some memories for you...). You finally get rid of that piece of paper in your bell and manage to capture the villain who you've been fighting for so long.

Except, the plan fails. The villain manages to get away with all of the Kwamis and now you have a weight on your conscious. You have just used against a person the power you vowed to use only for good. You are reminded of the significant power that you wield.

You once more arrive home and turn on the TV to try and distract yourself. Only to see that there's once more a problem that needs your help. You get there and see two people who have similar powers to you and your partner, but there's something wrong. Your partner asserts that they aren't akumatized, but you are wary. You learn that they are a version of you from a different universe, or at least a version of your power. You once more, are reminded the of ultimate destruction you have at your fingertips.

You come to understand that these doubles are in fact your partner and yourself from another universe. A universe, where the villain you are fighting is now your ally. Once assuring your friends are safe, you go after your double to fight them. When you meet to speak to them person to person and talk through your shared trauma. You learn that he too lost his precious mother, but he has no one to help him through it. You relive that loss together. You talk him down from making the wish that a part of you wants to make every single day. You begin to realize the version of you isn't bad, he's just hurting.

After ensuring the safety of other universes and giving a hopeful send of to your doubles, you finally, finally this time head home for the night.

Surveying around your room, you are reminded of the morning that feels like forever ago. You remember what your cousin said, what your good friend said. Emboldened by her words, you decide it's time to face your father. You go to his office where he's working and utter the words you never thought you would: I don't want to be a model anymore

Your father passively assents to this, and finally finally you are free.

You are filled with gratitude and this odd warmth that you don't spend too much time analyzing. You need to do something to thank the person who's advice got you what you so desperately wanted. You decide to call her up and thank her face-to-face.

You call her on the phone, which gets answered by her best friend, and then finally her and you give her your most sincere expression of gratitude, thanking her for everything she has done for you this past year.

As the warmth inside of your chest grows, you tell her you will do your best to pay it. You end the phone call with a smile on your face and a happy sigh.

Finally, with thoughts of your dear friend roaming around your mind, you fall asleep exhausted but happy.

This was all one day.

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brotherconstant · 8 months

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BLACK SAILS 10th Anniversary Celebration Day Two: Favorite Dynamic: Max/Eleanor

II. • And then what? Then they blockade the island, choke off trade. A few crews will resist, but how long can they survive without my father's support? One by one their numbers will dwindle. The fort will be abandoned. Soldiers will storm the beach. By the time the smoke clears, my father will have arrived. First time he's set foot here in five years waving the royal commission that his bribes purchased and lording over the place. Round of applause, the new governor. Somewhere in London, some foul fuck will get news of all of this, light his pipe and say, "Finally, all is right again in Nassau." XIX. • You saying this ain't real? Of course it is. The fort will be repaired. If he says it, he'll do it. When you first opened that door and showed me the Urca gold, do you know what I saw? A solution. The mortar that would secure the sand beneath our feet. The thing I could offer to England or Spain or whomever arrived here and threatened to reorder things, and say, "Take this and leave me be." Everything is dependent upon that gold, and right now it is sitting in a fort with no guns and full of holes.

#blacksailsedit #blacks sails #bsanniversary #sorry for the late submission i got the days mixed up lmao #maxanor #max black sails #eleanor guthrie #anne bonny #beegifs #parallels

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tilluvirtualevent · 1 year

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How does a virtual trade show work?

A virtual trade show is an online event where businesses can showcase their products and services to potential customers and partners. Virtual trade shows are typically held on a virtual event platform, which provides attendees with access to a variety of features, such as:

Virtual booths: Exhibitors can create and customize their own virtual booths, where they can display product information, videos, and other marketing materials. Attendees can visit virtual booths to learn more about products and services, and to chat with booth representatives in real time.

Networking: Virtual trade shows typically offer a variety of networking features, such as one-on-one and group video chats, and instant messaging. This allows attendees and exhibitors to connect with each other and build relationships.

Educational sessions: Many virtual trade shows also offer educational sessions, such as webinars, workshops, and panel discussions. These sessions can provide attendees with valuable insights into the latest industry trends and best practices.

To attend a virtual trade show, attendees typically need to register for an account on the event platform. Once registered, they can browse the list of exhibitors and visit virtual booths to learn more about products and services. Attendees can also network with other attendees and exhibitors, and attend educational sessions.

Virtual trade shows offer a number of advantages over traditional in-person trade shows, including:

Cost: Virtual trade shows are typically less expensive to host and attend than in-person trade shows. This is because there are no costs associated with renting a venue, setting up booths, or traveling to and from the event.

Convenience: Virtual trade shows can be attended from anywhere in the world, with an internet connection. This makes them more accessible to businesses and individuals who may not be able to travel to a physical trade show.

Reach: Virtual trade shows can attract a global audience, which is not possible with in-person trade shows.Overall, virtual trade shows offer a convenient and affordable way for businesses to connect with potential customers and partners from all over the world.

#virtual trade shows London #virtual exhibition platform London #virtual meetings platforms London

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red-riding-wood · 9 months

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Devil, Devil - Part I

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.

[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution

WC: 5277

It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.

You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.

He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.

“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”

If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.

Until he came along and ruined everything.

“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”

As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.

Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.

But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.

Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.

But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.

Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.

You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.

Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.

As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.

The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.

And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.

---

The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.

“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –

You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.

Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.

A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.

The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.

A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.

The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.

Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.

Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly.

“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”

Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.

“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”

The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.

“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”

A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.

He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.

“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.

He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.

And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?

Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?

He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined.

“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”

“But a king nonetheless.”

“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.

“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”

Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.

“I’m under contract.”

“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.

“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”

You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.

You hated them. You hated them all.

“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.

“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.

“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.

“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”

The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.

When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.

Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.

“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”

Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.

But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.

Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.

“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”

You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”

“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”

Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.

You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.

“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.

And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.

And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.

“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.

“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”

And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.

The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.

“Clever Devil, Devil…”

His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.

Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.

“How quickly do they sell their souls…”

He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.

Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.

“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”

Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room.

“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.

Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”

Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.

For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.

And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.

Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.

That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.

“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.

She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”

But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”

Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.

The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,

“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”

Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.

Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.

The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.

And to your devil, your soul was bound.

Part II coming soon!

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @minaethrym

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digitalageexpo · 8 months

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The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right Portable Exhibition Stand for Your Business

Understanding the Importance of a Portable Exhibition Stand

When it comes to showcasing your business at events and exhibitions, having the right portable exhibition stand can make all the difference. It serves as a visual representation of your brand and is often the first point of contact with potential customers. Therefore, it's essential to choose a stand that not only attracts attention but also effectively communicates your brand message.

Identifying Your Display Needs

Before diving into the world of portable exhibition stands, take the time to assess your display needs. Consider factors such as the size of the events you typically attend, the specific products or services you want to highlight, and any unique design requirements that align with your brand identity. This initial step will help you narrow down the options and ensure that the stand you choose meets your specific needs.

Key Features to Look for in a Portable Exhibition Stand

Versatility

A good portable exhibition stand should be versatile enough to adapt to different event spaces. Look for stands that offer modular components or customizable features that can be easily adjusted to fit various booth sizes and configurations.

Durability

Given the nature of event marketing, your portable exhibition stand should be built to withstand frequent assembly, disassembly, and transportation. Opt for stands made from high-quality materials that can endure the rigors of regular use without compromising on aesthetics.

Brand Visibility

The primary purpose of an exhibition stand is to attract attention to your brand. Choose a stand that provides ample space for branding elements such as logos, taglines, and high-quality graphics. The goal is to create a visually compelling display that captures the essence of your brand.

Ease of Assembly

Time is of the essence during event setup, so opt for a portable exhibition stand that is easy to set up and dismantle. Look for stands with intuitive designs and user-friendly features that streamline the assembly process, allowing you to focus on other aspects of event preparation.

Portability

True to its name, a portable exhibition stand should be easy to transport. Consider the weight, size, and packaging of the stand to ensure that it can be conveniently moved from one location to another without requiring extensive logistical support.

Evaluating Your Budget

While it's tempting to opt for the most elaborate exhibition stand on the market, it's crucial to align your choice with your budget. Set a clear budget and explore options within that range. Keep in mind that the most expensive stand isn't necessarily the best fit for your specific needs, so prioritize features that directly contribute to your display goals.

Seeking Professional Assistance

If you find yourself overwhelmed by the multitude of options available, consider seeking professional assistance from exhibition stand designers or companies specializing in event displays. They can provide valuable insights based on your unique requirements and help you navigate the selection process with ease.

Conclusion

Selecting the right portable exhibition stand for your business involves a thoughtful consideration of your display needs, key features, budget, and potential professional guidance. By investing time and effort into this decision, you can ensure that your exhibition stand becomes a powerful asset in showcasing your brand at various events and exhibitions. Visit more information for your website

#virtual exhibition #exhibitions in london #virtual conference #trade show

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pookietv · 4 months

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online embarrassment | arthurtv

this was a req!! and i think its adorable

there will be a part two to this !!!

being a simple university student, you had simple pleasures - getting drunk on the weekend, binge watching tv shows, and a more strange one, online chess. you liked watching people play, you liked playing yourself, you loved the strategy aspect. on some websites you played on, there was the option of livestreaming your chess game - no faces or voices, but people could chat alongside you playing, and you enjoyed seeing input on your games.

one day you were playing a particularly tricky game, being forked from practically the get go, and being the victim of many pawn trades, you were definitely on a losing streak, even if you were just playing against a bot. it was being streamed, but there were only four people watching, not that embarrassing right? especially because it was hidden behind a chess username and no one knew who you were anyways, so it didn't really matter.

so when a comment came in,

ATV: i wouldn't have played rook to f4 there, leaves an opening for a three move check :)

your head tilted a little, turning back to the game and furrowing your eyebrows, trying to figure what they had meant - and they were right, the move was a little careless and it could lead to checkmate.

you nodded to yourself, trying to amend the damage by playing your bishop defensively, to which another comment came in.

ATV: sorry for backseat gaming here, but you could have check in two

you smiled a little more at the comment, placing one hand on your chin and the other on your mouse, following some moves for what must have been fourty-five seconds before you clicked, they were right again. you made the move, the bot making its response, defending also, before in a few short moves, the game was over, you had won by check.

youruser: @/ATV thank you! i still kinda suck after playing for so long lmao

ATV: @/youruser do you want a game? :)

youruser: @/ATV sure! i'll add you now :P

so you added them, and they requested a game. in the chatbox on the side, you saw another message just as they had moved their first piece.

ATV: so what's your name?

youruser: i'm y/n, what about you?

ATV: arthur :)

he moved with an unusual polish opening, so you played traditional and tried to take control of the centre. within a few minutes, he had one of your pawns pinned, and had taken another.

youruser: damn you're actually really good

youruser: feeling a little defeated here :)

ATV: i'm just a loser with far too much time on my hands

youruser: well i mean me too but still, you're smoking me

ATV: cause you're playing too much attack not enough defence

youruser: i feel i may need you to tutor me lmao

ATV: lets finish up this game rq and then i'll help lol

unsurprisingly, he won, but you actually came closer than expecting, and it was a pretty even match after the poor beginning.

ATV: you're actually pretty good, you were just being modest

youruser: hm well maybe

youruser: suppose i'll have to keep challenging you til i win >:D

ATV: do you have discord or anything? easier to explain and talk on there rather than chess in game chat lol

youruser: i do! i'll link it rq :)

youruser: it's yourdiscuser #1782

and from there, you began talking semi-regularly, you played chess often and spoke tactics and games, he helped teach you and you enjoyed the company.

youruser: isn't it really strange we know nothing about each other other then chess defence strategies

youruser: i mean what if you're the insane chess killer man

ATV: yes, thats exactly who i am, the Insane Chess Killer Man, can't believe you caught me red handed

ATV: i mean what do you wanna know

youruser: i mean, idk,,, where are you from? i mean i know you speak english but you could be from anywhere i guess :O

ATV: i live in england, what about you :)

youruser: me too! i'm in london atm for uni, getting my masters

ATV: i am also in london! so if you're getting your masters, you're like ... somewhere around 24?

youruser: yeah, i'm 23 :P

youruser: what about you? i mean i have a feeling you're not some sixty year old man based on the fact you use discord but idk

ATV: i'm 28,,, getting very old :(

youruser: wow, very old indeed, must be such a shame

youruser: its gonna suck when i'm gonna have to visit you in a nursing home to play chess with you in two years time

ATV: okay i'm not that old you divvy :)

youruser: kidding, kidding ! anyway, i have to go because i have class but,, if you maybe wanna add me on instagram, its @/youruser :)

getting back from your lectures and practically throwing your backpack on the floor and collapsing on your bed, you planned on rotting the rest of the day away in pajamas and consuming far too much social media.

you opened instagram to a new follower: @/arthurtv

you assumed it was arthur from chess, and obviously in curiosity you opened his page straight away, you were nosy and you wanted to know who he was.

the first thing that shocked you was what he looked like: you didn't know what you were expecting but you didn't think it was going to be him.

he was... attractive, you had to admit, and your eyes had widened once you had seen him.

the second thing that shocked you was his followers, and his bio - he was a youtuber?

classically, you had to be nosy and follow the links to his youtube, your eyebrows raised a little as you looked at his channel, giggling to yourself, he did commentary on reality tv? you hadn't seen that before, but once you watched a video, you realised he was funny, too. he made it funny, despite the fact that you had at first felt it was the strangest youtube topic ever.

youruser: why hello arthurtv

youruser: i was definitely not expecting you

arthurtv: why hello y/n

arthurtv: i could say the same about you

youruser: well i mean i don't have any surprises

youruser: but you are apparently known for commenting on 90 day fiance?

arthurtv: i'd argue you have some surprises

arthurtv: and yes, i make commentary videos! wasn't trying to hide it or anything, just was a weird thing to bring up in conversation :)

youruser: no, it seems cool! i wasn't judging :) i don't watch much youtube so i don't know too much about it

youruser: and anyways, what surprises do i have?

arthurtv: i wasn't expecting you to look like that i suppose

youruser: like what ??

arthurtv: i mean, i don't know, pretty i suppose

arthurtv: you're very pretty, i just didn't know what i was expecting to be honest

youruser: wow you thought i couldn't be pretty cause i'm a loser playing chess??? smh arthur

youruser: (i'm kidding, i didn't expect you to look like you either)

arthurtv: you know that's not what i meant!!

arthurtv: what did you expect me to look like then?

youruser: well since you're 28, i suppose i was expecting a zimmerframe or walking stick or something

arthurtv: ha ha very funny

#arthur frederick #arthur frederick x reader #arthurtv #arthurtv x reader #chaos crew

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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The long, bloody lineage of private equity's looting

Tomorrow (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Fans of the Sopranos will remember the “bust out” as a mob tactic in which a business is taken over, loaded up with debt, and driven into the ground, wrecking the lives of the business’s workers, customers and suppliers. When the mafia does this, we call it a bust out; when Wall Street does it, we call it “private equity.”

It used to be that we rarely heard about private equity, but then, as national chains and iconic companies started to vanish, this mysterious financial arrangement popped up with increasing frequency. When a finance bro’s presentation on why Olive Garden needed to be re-orged when viral, there was a lot off snickering about the decline of a tacky business whose value prop was unlimited carbs. But the bro was working for Starboard Value, a hedge fund that specialized in buhying out and killing off companies, pocketing billions while destroying profitable businesses.

https://www.salon.com/2014/09/17/the_real_olive_garden_scandal_why_greedy_hedge_funders_suddenly_care_so_much_about_breadsticks/

Starboard Value’s game was straightforward: buy a business, load it with debt, sell off its physical plant — the buildings it did business out of — pay itself, and then have the business lease back the buildings, bleeding out money until it collapsed. They pulled it with Red Lobster,and the point of the viral Olive Garden dis track was to soften up the company for its own bust out.

The bust out tactic wasn’t limited to mocking middlebrow family restaurants. For years, the crooks who ran these ops did a brisk trade in blaming the internet. Why did Sears tank? Everyone knows that the 19th century business was an antique, incapable of mounting a challenge in the age of e-commerce. That was a great smokescreen for an old-fashioned bust out that saw corporate looters make off with hundreds of millions, leaving behind empty storefronts and emptier pension accounts for the workers who built the wealth the looters stole:

https://prospect.org/economy/vulture-capitalism-killed-sears/

Same goes for Toys R Us: it wasn’t Amazon that killed the iconic toy retailer — it was the PE bosses who extracted $200m from the chain, then walked away, hands in pockets and whistling, while the businesses collapsed and the workers got zero severance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/business/wp/2018/06/01/how-can-they-walk-away-with-millions-and-leave-workers-with-zero-toys-r-us-workers-say-they-deserve-severance/

It’s a good racket — for the racketeers. Private equity has grown from a finance sideshow to Wall Street’s apex predator, and it’s devouring the real economy through a string of audactious bust outs, each more consequential and depraved than the last.

As PE shows that it can turn profitable businesses gigantic windfalls, sticking the rest of us with the job of sorting out the smoking craters they leave behind, more and more investors are piling in. Today, the PE sector loves a rollup, which is when they buy several related businesses and merge them into one firm. The nominal business-case for a rollup is that the new, bigger firm is more “efficient.” In reality, a rollup’s strength is in eliminating competition. When all the pet groomers, or funeral homes, or urgent care clinics for ten miles share the same owner, they can raise prices, lower wages, and fuck over suppliers.

They can also borrow. A quirk of the credit markets is that a standalone small business is valued at about 3–5x its annual revenues. But if that business is part of a large firm, it is valued at 10–20x annual turnover. That means that when a private equity company rolls up a comedy club, ad agency or water bottler (all businesses presently experiencing PE rollup), with $1m in annual revenues, it shows up on the PE company’s balance sheet as an asset worth $10–20m. That’s $10–20m worth of collateral the PE fund can stake for loans that let it buy and roll up more small businesses.

2.9 million Boomer-owned businesses, employing 32m people, are expected to sell in the next couple years as their owners retire. Most of these businesses will sell to PE firms, who can afford to pay more for them as a prelude to a bust out than anyone intending to operate them as a productive business could ever pay:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

PE’s most ghastly impact is felt in the health care sector. Whole towns’ worth of emergency rooms, family practices, labs and other health firms have been scooped up by PE, which has spent more than $1t since 2012 on health acquisitions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

Once a health care company is owned by PE, it is significantly more likely to commit medicare fraud. It also cuts wages and staffing for doctors and nurses. PE-owned facilities do more unnecessary and often dangerous procedures. Appointments get shorter. The companies get embroiled in kickback scandals. PE-backed dentists hack away at children’s mouths, filling them full of root-canals.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

The Healthcare Private Equity Association boasts that its members are poised to spend more than $3t to create “the future of healthcare.”

https://hcpea.org/#!event-list

As bad as PE is for healthcare, it’s worse for long-term care. PE-owned nursing homes are charnel houses, and there’s a particularly nasty PE scam where elderly patients are tricked into signing up for palliative care, which is never delivered (and isn’t needed, because the patients aren’t dying!). These fake “hospices” get huge payouts from medicare — and the patient is made permanently ineligible for future medicare, because they are recorded being in their final decline:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Every part of the health care sector is being busted out by PE. Another ugly PE trick, the “club deal,” is devouring the medical supply business. Club deals were huge in the 2000s, destroying rent-controlled housing, energy companies, Mervyn’s department stores, Harrah’s, and Old Country Joe. Now it’s doing the same to medical supplies:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

Private equity is behind the mass rollup of single-family homes across America. Wall Street landlords are the worst landlords in America, who load up your rent with junk fees, leave your home in a state of dangerous disrepair, and evict you at the drop of a hat:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/16/die-miete-ist-zu-hoch/#assets-v-human-rights

As these houses decay through neglect, private equity makes a bundle from tenants and even more borrowing against the houses. In a few short years, much of America’s desperately undersupplied housing stock will be beyond repair. It’s a bust out.

You know all those exploding trains filled with dangerous chemicals that poison entire towns? Private equity bust outs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/04/up-your-nose/#rail-barons

Where did PE come from? How can these people look themselves in the mirror? Why do we let them get away with it? How do we stop them?

Today in The American Prospect, Maureen Tkacik reviews two new books that try to answer all four of these questions, but really only manage to answer the first three:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-06-02-days-of-plunder-morgenson-rosner-ballou-review/

The first of these books is These Are the Plunderers: How Private Equity Runs — and Wrecks — America by Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/These-Are-the-Plunderers/Gretchen-Morgenson/9781982191283

The second is Plunder: Private Equity’s Plan to Pillage America, by Brendan Ballou:

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/brendan-ballou/plunder/9781541702103/

Both books describe the bust out from the inside. For example, PetSmart — looted for $30 billion by RaymondSvider and his PE fund BC Partners — is a slaughterhouse for animals. The company systematically neglects animals — failing to pay workers to come in and feed them, say, or refusing to provide backup power to run during power outages, letting animals freeze or roast to death. Though PetSmart has its own vet clinics, the company doesn’t want to pay its vets to nurse the animals it damages, so it denies them care. But the company is also too cheap to euthanize those animals, so it lets them starve to death. PetSmart is also too cheap to cremate the animals, so its traumatized staff are ordered to smuggle the dead, rotting animals into random dumpsters.

All this happened while PetSmart’s sales increased by 60%, matched by growth in the company’s gross margins. All that money went to the bust out.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/antoinegara/2021/09/27/the-30-billion-kitty-meet-the-investor-who-made-a-fortune-on-pet-food/

Tkacik says these books show that we’re finally getting wise to PE. Back in the Clinton years, the PE critique painted the perps as sharp operators who reduced quality and jacked up prices. Today, books like these paint these “investors” as the monsters they are — crooks whose bust ups are crimes, not clever finance hacks.

Take the Carlyle Group, which pioneered nursing home rollups. As Carlyle slashed wages, its workers suffered — but its elderly patients suffered more. Thousands of Carlyle “customers” died of “dehydration, gangrenous bedsores, and preventable falls” in the pre-covid years.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/opioid-overdoses-bedsores-and-broken-bones-what-happened-when-a-private-equity-firm-sought-profits-in-caring-for-societys-most-vulnerable/2018/11/25/09089a4a-ed14-11e8-baac-2a674e91502b_story.html

KKR, another PE monster, bought a second-hand chain of homes for mentally disabled adults from another PE company, then squeezed it for the last drops of blood left in the corpse. KKR cut wages to $8/hour and increased shifts to 36 hours, then threatened to have workers who went home early arrested and charged with “patient abandonment.” Many of these homes were often left with no staff at all, with patients left to starve and stew in their own waste.

PE loves to pick on people who can’t fight back: kids, sick people, disabled people, old people. No surprise, then, that PE loves prisons — the ultimate captive audience. HIG Capital is a $55b fund that owns TKC Holdings, who got the contract to feed the prisoners at 400 institutions. They got the contract after the prisons fired Aramark, owned by PE giant Warburg Pincus, whose food was so inedible that it provoked riots. TKC got a million bucks extra to take over the food at Michigan’s Kinross Correctional Facility, then, incredibly, made the food worse. A chef who refused to serve 100 bags of rotten potatoes (“the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in my life”) was fired:

https://www.wzzm13.com/article/news/local/michigan/prison-food-worker-i-was-fired-for-refusing-to-serve-rotten-potatoes/69-467297770

TKC doesn’t just operate prison kitchens — it operates prison commissaries, where it gouges prisoners on junk food to replace the inedible slop it serves in the cafeteria. The prisoners buy this food with money they make working in the prison workshops, for $0.10–0.25/hour. Those workshops are also run by TKC.

Tkacic traces private equity back to the “corporate raiders” of the 1950s and 1960s, who “stealthily borrowed money to buy up enough shares in a small or midsized company to control its biggest bloc of votes, then force a stock swap and install himself as CEO.”

The most famous of these raiders was Eli Black, who took over United Fruit with this gambit — a company that had a long association with the CIA, who had obligingly toppled democratically elected governments and installed dictators friendly to United’s interests (this is where the term “banana republic” comes from).

Eli Black’s son is Leon Black, a notorious PE predator. Leon Black got his start working for the junk-bonds kingpin Michael Milken, optimizing Milken’s operation, which was the most terrifying bust out machine of its day, buying, debt-loading and wrecking a string of beloved American businesses. Milken bought 2,000 companies and put 200 of them through bankruptcy, leaving the survivors in a brittle, weakened state.

It got so bad that the Business Roundtable complained about the practice to Congress, calling Milken, Black, et al, “a small group is systematically extracting the equity from corporations and replacing it with debt, and incidentally accumulating major wealth.”

Black stabbed Milken in the back and tanked his business, then set out on his own. Among the businesses he destroyed was Samsonite, “a bankrupt-but-healthy company he subjected to 12 humiliating years of repeated fee extractions, debt-funded dividend payments, brutal plant closings, and hideous schemes to induce employees to buy its worthless stock.”

The money to buy Samsonite — and many other businesses — came through a shadowy deal between Black and John Garamendi, then a California insurance commissioner, now a California congressman. Garamendi helped Black buy a $6b portfolio of junk bonds from an insurance company in a wildly shady deal. Garamendi wrote down the bonds by $3.9b, stealing money “from innocent people who needed the money to pay for loved ones’ funerals, irreparable injuries, etc.”

Black ended up getting all kinds of favors from powerful politicians — including former Connecticut governor John Rowland and Donald Trump. He also wired $188m to Jeffrey Epstein for reasons that remain opaque.

Black’s shady deals are a marked contrast with the exalted political circles he travels in. Despite private equity’s obviously shady conduct, it is the preferred partner for cities and states, who buy everything from ambulance services to infrastructure from PE-owned companies, with disastrous results. Federal agencies turn a blind eye to their ripoffs, or even abet them. 38 state houses passed legislation immunizing nursing homes from liability during the start of the covid crisis.

PE barons are shameless about presenting themselves as upstanding cits, unfairly maligned. When Obama made an empty promise to tax billionaires in 2010, Blackstone founder SteveS chwarzman declared, “It’s a war. It’s like when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.”

Since we’re on the subject of Hitler, this is a good spot to bring up Monowitz, a private-sector satellite of Auschwitz operated by IG Farben as a slave labor camp to make rubber and other materiel it supplied at a substantial markup to the wermacht. I’d never heard of Monowitz, but Tkacik’s description of the camp is chilling, even in comparison to Auschwitz itself.

Farben used slave laborers from Auschwitz to work at its rubber plant, but was frustrated by the logistics of moving those slaves down the 4.5m stretch of road to the facility. So the company bought 25,000 slaves — preferring children, who were cheaper — and installed them in a co-located death-camp called Monowitz:

https://www.commentary.org/articles/r-tannenbaum/the-devils-chemists-by-josiah-e-dubois-jr/

Monowitz was — incredibly — worse than Auschwitz. It was so bad, the SS guards who worked at it complained to Berlin about the conditions. The SS demanded more hospitals for the workers who dropped from beatings and overwork — Farben refused, citing the cost. The factory never produced a steady supply of rubber, but thanks to its gouging and the brutal treatment of its slaves, the camp was still profitable and returned large dividends to Farben’s investors.

Apologists for slavery sometimes claim that slavers are at least incentivized to maintain the health of their captive workforce. This was definitely not true of Farben. Monowitz slaves died on average after three months in the camp. And Farben’s subsidiary, Degesch, made the special Zyklon B formulation used in Auschwitz’s gas chambers.

Tkacik’s point is that the Nazis killed for ideology and were unimaginably cruel. Farben killed for money — and they were even worse. The banality of evil gets even more banal when it’s done in service to maximizing shareholder value.

As Farben historian Joseph Borkin wrote, the company “reduced slave labor to a consumable raw material, a human ore from which the mineral of life was systematically extracted”:

https://www.scribd.com/document/517797736/The-Crime-and-Punishment-of-I-G-Farben

Farben’s connection to the Nazis was a the subject of Germany’s Master Plan: The Story of Industrial Offensive, a 1943 bestseller by Borkin, who was also an antitrust lawyer. It described how Farben had manipulated global commodities markets in order to create shortages that “guaranteed Hitler’s early victories.”

Master Plan became a rallying point in the movement to shatter corporate power. But large US firms like Dow Chemical and Standard Oil waged war on the book, demanding that it be retracted. Borkin was forced into resignation and obscurity in 1945.

Meanwhile, in Nuremberg, 24 Farben executives were tried for their war crimes, and they cited their obligations to their shareholders in their defense. All but five were acquitted on this basis.

Seen in that light, the plunderers of today’s PE firms are part of a long and dishonorable tradition, one that puts profit ahead of every other priority or consideration. It’s a defense that wowed the judges at Nuremberg, so should we be surprised that it still plays in 2023?

Tkacik is frustrated that neither of these books have much to offer by way of solutions, but she understands why that would be. After all, if we can’t even close the carried interest tax loophole, how can we hope to do anything meaningful?

“Carried interest” comes up in every election cycle. Most of us assume it has something to do with “interest payments,” but that’s not true. The carried interest loophole relates to the “interest” that 16th-century sea captains had in their cargo. It’s a 600-year-old tax loophole that private equity bosses use to pay little or no tax on their billions. The fact that it’s still on the books tells you everything you need to know about whether our political class wants to do anything about PE’s plundering.

Notwithstanding Tkacik’s (entirely justified) skepticism of the weaksauce remedies proposed in these books, there is some hope of meaningful action. Private equity’s rollups are only possible because they skate under the $101m threshold for merger scrutiny. However, there is good — but unenforced — law that allows antitrust enforcers to block these mergers. This is the “incipiency standard” — Sec 7 of the Clayton Act — the idea that a relatively small merger might not be big enough to trigger enforcement action on its own, but regulators can still act to block it if it creates an incipient monopoly.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

The US has a new crop of aggressive — fearless — top antitrust enforcers and they’ve been systematically reviving these old laws to go after monopolies.

That’s long overdue. Markets are machines for eroding our moral values: “In comparison to non-market decisions, moral standards are significantly lower if people participate in markets.”

https://web.archive.org/web/20130607154129/https://www.uni-bonn.de/Press-releases/markets-erode-moral-values

The crimes that monsters commit in the name of ideology pale in comparison to the crimes the wealthy commit for money.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farbenizers

[Image ID: An overgrown graveyard, rendered in silver nitrate monochrome. A green-tinted businessman with a moneybag in place of a head looms up from behind a gravestone. The right side of the image is spattered in blood.]

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