#Two-Way Communication

[business901-blog]

The Shift in Consumer Engagement Strategies

The way consumers engage with brands has undergone significant evolution. Gone are the days when a simple television ad would captivate an audience’s attention. Nowadays, consumers prefer personalized, interactive, and engaging experiences that resonate with their lifestyles and values. For example, consider how often you browse social media for product recommendations or reviews before making a purchase. This shift highlights a few key trends in consumer engagement: Desire for Authenticity: Consumers are drawn to brands that show genuine personality and transparency. Preference for Instant Gratification: With the rise of e-commerce, immediate access to products has become a standard expectation. Community Engagement: Many consumers seek a sense of belonging by engaging with brands and other customers online. The importance of relationship-building instead of mere transactions cannot be overstated. By using interactive strategies, brands can meet consumers where they are and cater to their evolving preferences.

[shriimpcandle]

Redraw of two characters I like 💦

[kidsinnowadays]

How to Build Strong Parent-Teacher Communication: 10 Tips for a Collaborative Relationship

Discover effective strategies to foster open and productive communication between parents and teachers, ensuring a collaborative approach to your child's education journey. #ParentTeacherCommunication #EducationPartnership #CollaborativeApproach #Parentin

Effective parent-teacher communication is a cornerstone of a child’s educational journey. When parents and teachers work together in harmony, children benefit from a more supportive and enriching learning environment. This article provides 10 valuable tips for fostering strong parent-teacher communication, creating a collaborative partnership that nurtures a child’s growth and…

[floral-atom-collective]

Having fluctuating symptoms is valid

Not understanding your symptoms is valid

Feeling like your symptoms have gotten worse is valid

Having your symptoms get worse is valid

Feeling like your faking your symptoms is valid and happens to so many people all the time

Symptoms are not a fixed feeling. They can get worse and they can get better both experiences are valid.

[artisticdivasworld]

Building Effective Teams: The Qualities of a Good Nursing Leader

Being a nursing leader is more than just a title; it’s a responsibility to inspire and guide a team towards excellence. Effective nursing leadership is crucial for maintaining a high standard of patient care and fostering a positive work environment. In this blog post, we will explore the key qualities of a good nursing leader and the strategies they can employ to build effective teams. I.…

[zae-heeyyy]

Aegis

Summary: You defend your daughter from Micah. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,810 Tags: fluff, family, girl dad Arthur, angst, high honor Arthur Warnings: Violence, mistreatment of a child

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an: This was an anon request. I was weary about this one because I'm not a mom, nor do I spend a lot of time around toddlers, but omg exploring girl dad Arthur was so fun! Shout out to @emerald-ranch for helping me with a horse fact for this one! Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Aegis: as in protection, means or method of defending

A pair of hazel eyes cut through the dark, shining like twin stars burning holes in the blanket of night. Those usually bright supernovas seemed dull now, washed out by the weight of the world. Your daughter's tiny form scooted in impossibly closer, and you bundled her up, swaddling her like she was still the wiggling newborn you'd held in your arms three years ago.

"Bea," you sighed, trying your best to shield her from the beast that was your frustration. Exhaustion had settled in your bones hours ago, pressing your patience paper thin. Sleep called out to you from the void, and you wanted so badly to answer, but your daughter reeled you back every time.

"I want Daddy," she whined, clutching the fabric of your shift in her little fists. 

You missed him too; she had no idea. In a time that seemed like forever ago, you and Arthur laid in this same cot, your fingers tangled in his shirt in the way your daughter's were in yours now. Motherhood terrified you, and after telling Arthur you were pregnant, you cried all through the night. Raising a child was daunting enough, but doing it with an outlaw in a gang seemed like a nightmare turned reality. 

Solid arms held you together in body and mind. He was your rock even though he was going through his own quiet panic. Arthur knew the harsh realities of parenthood all too well. Still, he knew the brightness, blooms, and blossoms it could bring, and he let himself want it more than anything. Making good on his second chance at having a family, he married you right away and devoted all of himself to you and the baby.

That warm summer night after your screams and her cries had died down, he bowed his head over her, staring without a word. First, one salty tear fell from his face and onto the blanket you'd knitted for her, then another, and another. You tried to offer him the dignity of silence, but your tears burst out with a sob. It was only then that he spoke, snapping out of his baby-induced trance, his eyes wide with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong at all."

And his baby loved him oh so much, the very definition of a daddy's girl. He was the one who protected her from spiders and wasps, the one who made her giggle til her face turned red, the one who'd lift her up on his shoulders and run amok through camp, and the one who snuck her candy when she thought you weren't looking. He was her Polaris, and little did she know, she was his entire universe. Leaving both of you at camp, even if only for a few hours, chipped away at a piece of his soul every time. In the present, you combed your fingers through her light-colored hair and kissed her on the head twice–one from you and one from Daddy, as you always told her.

"I know. He'll be here when we wake up, honeybee."  

And the tent fell silent, but your daughter twisted and shivered, unsettled by passing footsteps.

"Momma…" Her words came out smaller than her. "M'scared."

You wanted to tell her there was nothing to be afraid of, but you couldn't lie to her–not when there was a price on her father's head, not after Blackwater, and not after Colter. In yet another attempt to calm her, you whispered soft shhs. But then she spoke once more, a single word–a name, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Micah."

You sat up with the quickness of a startled doe, sweeping your eyes over your daughter. Tears stained her rosy cheeks, but she was otherwise unharmed.

"What about Micah?" The question came out more urgent than you'd intended, and she hid herself in your bosom. You hoped she didn't hear your heart pounding wildly against your rib cage. 

"Don't want him to come here."

"Why'd he do that?"

She only shook her head. You peeled her away from you, wiping her tears away with the pads of your thumbs before cupping her face in your hands. Your voice was loving but firm–a quiet, motherly demand.

"Bea. Talk." 

She vocalized as best as she could: "He's scary and mean."

And then, after a long pause, her small hand came to rest over yours on her cheek.

"He touched my face."

A curtain of red-hot wrath veiled your vision, and it took everything in you to hide it from the baby in your arms. No matter how big she got, she would always be that pink, wrinkly baby in the knitted blanket. You put on a stellar performance, eyes twinkling, your smile adding light to the darkness that'd settled over you. You reassured her that Daddy and Uncle Dutch would take care of that, that she had a whole family looking out for her, and that she was safe. 

In one last attempt to get her to settle, you laid back down, closed your own eyes, and began a slow hum of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." In the middle of the second run-through, she'd gone limp, finally.  You tried to follow suit, but your thoughts were louder than ever. 

Arthur'll be back soon.

Let the men dish it out. 

Get some sleep, get some sleep, get some sleep.

But your legs swung over the cot, and you left your eaglet behind in the nest as you soared into camp, sharp eyes scanning for your prey–a rattlesnake masquerading as a man. The drunk bastard saw you coming, flashing his fangs in a smug display of mockery. He didn't expect the beer bottle he'd been nursing to explode across his head, the glass shattering like a storm of meteors crashing down to earth. The impact sent him sprawling to the ground, and you were on top of him in an instant in the only way you'd ever be–out for blood. A blackhole temporarily swallowed both of you as you slammed your forehead into his with all the force of two colliding planets. 

The shockwave drowned out everything around you–so much so that you didn't hear someone shout for Arthur and didn't notice your husband had returned just before you left the tent. Micah fought back hard, trying in his intoxicated stupor to twist free, but you had him good, your nails like talons breaking skin and cutting off his air supply.

An owl-like screech tore through your lungs as two strong hands yanked you away. Your husband's eyes locked onto yours, grounding you, clearing the haze of fury. Time seemed to slow as you saw yourself reflected in concerned chrysocolla-colored eyes.

"Hey now, hey, easy…"

Just when he thought he'd calmed his distressed mare, the snake hissed in the grass.

"Get control of your whore, Morgan!"

"Arthur," you caught his attention, him looking from Micah back to you, "Beatrice." 

At hearing his daughter's name, Arthur bared his teeth and dug his nails into his palm. Without thinking, he shoved you aside, and you knew if you let him get to Micah, all hell would break loose. Roles reversed, you grabbed at his sleeve with both hands, pushing your weight into your heels to keep him in place. Micah started a mocking chortle. 

"That seed of yours." He tried once again to rise up on his feet, "Ain't much hope for her. She'll let fellas buy her for a penny just like her momma."

His taunting stung enough for you to temporarily lose hold of Arthur, and he took his chance, sending the metal tip of his boot flying into Micah's chin. The devil incarnate spit out blood and chipped bone and let out a hoarse, guttural bellow of pain, but he didn't try to stand anymore. 

"Lucky she got to you first." Arthur spat, "I ain't stopping her next time."

Your husband stomped off with his arm around your waist, back to your lion's den where your cub was still sleeping soundly. Collapsing onto the cot, you dug your palms into your eyes, trying to ease the pressure of a building headache. Lantern light came into your field of vision as Arthur's calloused fingers pried your hands away. 

"That was stupid," he whispered, aware of Beatrice still sleeping. One hand clutched your chin, and the other moved your hair out of your face to get a good look at you, "I woulda' handled it."

The cold sting of a wet cloth against your bruises made you wince. 

"I know. Couldn't help myself."  

Arthur didn't say anything else and finished cleaning you up in silence. Though the presence of your family back together brought you a semblance of peace, you twisted the gold band around your finger, lost in hellish thoughts. You and Arthur made promises to each other and to your little girl, and you'd make good on them, no matter the cost.

"I'll kill him next time."

Arthur had stripped down to his union suit and nodded at you as he took his hat off and set it beside the photo of your daughter's namesake.

"I know."

Then, his face lit up. He stopped your fidgeting by taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Deep down, he knew you had it in you, but something about his wife, the sweetest thing he'd ever met, nearly ripping a man's head off his shoulders with her bare hands, struck a cord of pride within him. 

"Though I don't think anybody in their right mind would tempt you after seein' that."

And you felt embarrassed of your wild display of maternal ferocity. But Arthur, in all his tenderness and love for you, made all your doubt vanish.

"That's my girl," he whispered, holding his hands out.

You let him hoist you up into his warm embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest and rhythmic heartbeat could've lulled you to sleep right then and there. This closeness had become a delicacy since parenthood, and you savored every bite. Arthur sighed contently as he breathed in the scene before him. Though you were buried in his chest, you knew he was looking over at his sleeping baby girl while he was hugging you.

"Maybe one day she can spend the night with Abigail and Jack, and we can have some husband and wife time." 

You hummed in agreement, tempted to let your limbs fall weak in his arms. The sounds of rustling blankets woke you right back up.

"Daddy?" 

Arthur didn't let you go. Instead, he squeezed you harder, a silent thank you for the life you'd birthed, the life you'd given him. He guided you back to the cot beside your daughter, tucking both of you in and pressing a soft kiss to your foreheads.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm here," were the last words you heard before soaring serenely off the cliff of consciousness. 

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Occasionally I find it mildly annoying when Palpatine is posited as the one Anakin had always trusted the most, tbh. There's a noticeable shift in how he interacts with Obi Wan and Palpatine in between aotc and rots, and there's an obvious reason why: the events of aotc themselves. He and Obi Wan had plenty of friction, but they were still close, and Anakin did in fact confide in him in his grumpy teenager way. About his feelings for Padme, about his worries for his mother. It's after his trip to Tatooine that he turns to Palpatine instead.

[glitter-stained]

"why does fanon love making Jason care about his goons when he kills them in canon" I'm sorry to tell you that Jason's Robin run is a significant work for his characterization. And that Willis Todd was in fact a goon. Like, that's a significant thing that happened.

(jaybin fans exist not every Jason fan is a hardcore UTH fan who thinks everything about Winick's writing is pure and just and the right way)

[pidgydraws]

🖋️ sleepover 🖋️

"...to further encourage the bearing of our souls and the telling of our most appalling secrets."

[frozen-planet]

part 1 of IDK where I draw DJ in the silly outfits I put them in on roblox.....

[historical-misfit]

i'm sorry i had to-

[aprilblossomgirl]

Let’s go then. Where again? Add my stuff into your room.

ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat | Ep.09

[sasaleletrebol]

"Frustration"

A "re-formed" Nightmare mini comic.

I think Nightmare would have a hard time learning that not all of his negative emotions go away with violence or hurting others back. And even though the negativity gets out of hand, he still tries his best not to cause harm to the people around him.

He then turns to Dream to unburden himself, who tenderly welcomes him into his arms whenever his little brother needs him.

Between them, they find the necessary balance to comfort each other.

[Do NOT tag as dreamare or i'll stab your eye with a pencil]

[trashy-greyjoy]

being delusional is half the fun of shipping, idk what y'all are on...

[smearp]

Kieran is so funny; he spends so much time trying to convince the gang he wasn't important to Colm, and then the next day spills all the tea about him at the campfire

[tricoufamily]

it's just not my year