#nonedit

[apparently-artless]

i think it's quite amusing how the dish was shown using namari's perspective. before tasting it, she thought it wouldn't taste good and even thought of eating the stew as a form of punishment. right after tasting it, only then did the stew become vibrant in her eyes.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #anime food #food anime #anime #anime screencap #nonedit

[mattys-hs-edits]

yeah hi

#nonedit #🧍

[vishnukadam]

In Frame- #Shubhangi Jamge (Pawar) Click- #vitthaldigital_vishnukadam Mua- @vishalmakeup . . . . . . . #nonedit #noneditedphoto #instafashion #instamakeup #bridemaids #bridemakeupartist #asitis (at Nanded) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf3sUpqPQrU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#shubhangi #vitthaldigital_vishnukadam #nonedit #noneditedphoto #instafashion #instamakeup #bridemaids #bridemakeupartist #asitis

[scenic-gaming]

The Moltammerville Warrior

...the peerless Boulder champion...

...upholding justice and peace once again!

#hsr luka #honkai luka #honkaiposting #honkai star rail #nonedited

[thecensusbureau]

It's hard to look at really.

Every time they pass by each floor, they'd have to watch their footing in order not to move the bodies of people Cucurucho once knew.

People.

That was the problem.

None of them were people.

Osito, the workers that lay on the ground, the ones that employed them, and even the residents that stormed in and ruined everything.

Mostly everything. At least to Cucurucho.

It nearly steps in a puddle of oil. It mutters an apology for almost doing so. The silent counter in its head ticks everytime it registers the body count.

140... 141... 142...

And so forth. And it's always the same number every time.

374. Every time.

The former Bureau doesn't really know why it bothers to do rounds whenever they leave the office. It's... depressing really.

Maybe one round, it'd find a body less. Maybe one round, it'd find all of them suddenly up and about, back to working condition. Maybe one round, it'd find every one of them reaching out and crying for help.

But it never does.

They round the corner, careful as always to not accidentally move the state the bodies were left in when the residents had come by. There was no doubt in any way who had done this.

The workers most likely weren't even hostile. Most of them were probably just running. Running away in fear and in survival, but none of that had mattered. They had died anyway. They were probably toyed with, killed for fun and for the satisfaction of being in the right.

The residents weren't.

Come to think of it, Cucurucho possibly didn't register the oil slick stains on the clothing of the residents. The liquid dripping from each of their claws, teeth, and weapons. The supposed saviours.

They were supposed to do the right thing.

They were supposed to save people.

They were supposed to be good.

But that's the fucking thing.

Again, and again, it never fucking changes. That—

None of them

were ever

People.

They were just machines, they were just worker drones forced to do whatever the higher bids of them, they were the Island's enemies, they were computers relaying information back to the client, they weren't fucking people.

But it just doesn't make sense— Osito has seen time and time again how much these workers strive and interact.

It has seen them care for each other more than any resident has ever done, it has seen them brimming with different personalities and something close to being alive, it has seen them have wants and needs but they never said anything, because they weren't seen by others to even be worthy enough to have those things.

It loved them. It loved them.

And this ticked off Cucurucho. Everything was unfair, and unkind, and even if the world and its programming were screaming at how this was the way it was supposed to be then so be it.

But Bureau, it'd hear, not all of the residents are bad. Some of them are kind and caring and this was just a different story on their end!

If Cucurucho was forced to wipe out another island, the story would never change even though the tables were flipped. One side was always going to be the monsters, and the other the machines forced to be monsters.

And it didn't want to be a monster.

Not anymore.

#server event #server offline #long post #yaoiverse #standalone; dont rb #[ooc: got bored so heres a nonedited post about osito's feelings on the workers and residents]

[otomememento]

Voices

“I want… to live…”

“I can’t… die…”

“I don’t want… to die… There’s so much more… I have left to… do…”

There were so many voices, unhindered by the barriers of language, whispering in his mind. He didn’t know what to do. Many times, Le Comte had envied humans for their shorter lives, for that ability to fade into nothing, to cease the never ending walk of life that he had already traveled. But… now he wasn’t certain. These humans were terrified. They didn’t want to go. They didn’t see death as a welcome release. Of course, that didn’t mean no humans did. But those voices wouldn’t reach him now; they wouldn’t be looking for salvation. No, if there were people who died in contentment, or complete despair, they would not be crying out. Either they were willing to go, or they had decided there was nothing left to fight for.

The voices came from those in the middle, those who rejected the idea of death, those who felt there was something more that needed to be done. They filled Le Comte’s mind until it was the only thing he could hear, or feel. Pressing in, from all sides, even though they didn’t physically exist. He sank to his knees, putting his hands up on the side of his head. Was this… some sort of punishment? For taking his life for granted? Were these voices seeking him to attack him? He had suffered a great deal of physical pain at times, but he always survived. It was nearly impossible not to. Mental anguish, however, was not something that a Pureblood was immune to. So, it was a perfect attack.

But, despite the pressure building inside his mind, Le Comte quickly abandoned that notion. None of the voices gave any indication that they were aware of him. There were many cries to gods of varying flavors, or last words murmured to loved ones, words he felt he had no right to hear, but could only respect in silence. He wanted to leave now, a mad impulse to abandon his ideals, to destroy the door. He had no place here, intruding on these lives. What had he done?

And yet, he couldn’t move, pinned to the spot with all these plaintive cries, intruding on his thoughts. His mansion, it was big, but empty. This corridor, it was small, but way too full. Perhaps, even if he couldn’t save everyone, he could perhaps even things out a little. He would have to make himself move though, for that to happen. It was harder than he could have imagined; his body simply refused to obey his commands. Could he… actually die here? In this place that belonged everywhere, yet nowhere at all. Though the thought was terrifying, it was also oddly exciting. Could he, give up, right now?

“Take my hand.”

It was a new voice, and somehow it seemed louder than the others. No, not louder. Closer. Le Comte’s eyes flew open. The corridor didn’t seem to have changed at first glance. It still stretched on forever. Yet, at the end, he saw a light. Focusing on it for a few moments, he realized it wasn’t merely a light, but a shape. Humanoid. A lifeline, perhaps? Or was it some new torment to discover? He couldn’t even be sure if it was connected to that last command, or request: take my hand. Looking around, he didn’t see any other plausible source, and so he moved towards the light.

The closer he drew, the more the shape took a distinguishable form. Though, by the time he reached it, he realized some of the details were off. From what he could tell, it was the shape of a young woman, mid-to-late teens. He couldn’t even tell if she was pretty or not, since as soon as he seemed to form a picture in his mind of what he was seeing, her features would shift and slide into something slightly different, as though she rejected classification entirely. Even her clothes seemed to shift and change, defying any means of identify where, or when, she might have been from. He was left with the vague impression she was always wearing a dress of sorts, however. And, as strange as this encounter was, it didn’t fill him with any sense of dread or revulsion, but just a confused curiosity. Her hands, however, in contrast, were fixed in shape as well as posture; one was resting by her side, while the other was extended towards him.

He took it.

The voices faded away.

“That’s better, isn’t it? I can tell by your face.”

Again, he heard the voice in his mind more than through his ears, but without the cacophony of thousands upon thousands filtering into his mind, it was bearable. Even, pleasant, in a way. He nodded his head.

“Yes, thank you. How did you do it?”

“Me? I did nothing but give you a single voice to focus on,” she said quietly in his mind, her voice calm and even, though he couldn’t have guessed whether she had a soft voice, or a loud one. A high voice, or a husky one. A sweet voice, or a rough one.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I’m just another one of the dead. One of the lost. You… you built the door connecting to this place?” Le Comte nodded his head, unsure of whether it was a good thing to have done or not, but not willing to lie about it. “Then, I must warn you. Not everything is as it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“You heard the voices. So many voices. But, that’s not even a fraction of the people who have died. Barely a drop. Most people move on. Their voices silenced as they are forgotten. Some of us… are not so lucky. Beware. Not all people who achieve greatness are good. And even the ones who are both good and great, they did not reach their greatness without a price. Sometimes, the price is steep.” The figure raised her free hand to her neck. Peering closer, Le Comte saw a circular scar wrapping around the entire thing, as far as he could see. He shuddered.

“Are you…?

The question was cut short as the young woman put her finger against his lips. He didn’t feel it the way he would the finger of a living being, but, it silenced him nonetheless. In fact, it was the cold sensation without pressure that made him not wish to speak further. Finally the finger was withdrawn, and the cold went with it.

“Speak not my name; I didn’t come here to look for the aid that you wish to offer. I am… not ready for the world yet. Not even after two and a half centuries. But, there are others waiting. Please keep in mind what I’ve said. Sometimes the help offered, is not the help we need.”

The figure grew dimmer by the second, until she disappeared into the darkness. Once again the voices started to nudge their way into Le Comte’s mind, but this time he was feeling more tranquil. Slowly he let them wash over him, as though they were waves on a beach. Straightening up, he left the corridor, back into the solid sanity of his mansion. Perhaps this would take more planning than he realized, and he would be alone for a little while longer, but, once that was done, he would be well and truly ready to… begin.

#cybirdcreativechallenge #ikemen vampire fanfic #comte de saint germain #nonedited

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

GOOGLE FORMS IS GONNA GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK

#WHY DID THEY MAKE THE FILES NONEDITABLE WHEN SUBMITTED #WHY TF

[still2021]

#nofilter #nonedited #nofilterphoto #no filter photo #angle

[gobgapplasticbag]

#nonedited #landscapephotography #duskscapes #cloudcollector #cloudlovers #darksoon (at Balcony Thailand) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClbB2qehJC_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#nonedited #landscapephotography #duskscapes #cloudcollector #cloudlovers #darksoon

[glexman]

red spot

#photography #dslrphotography #dslr #light in the darkness #lighting #nonedited

[apparently-artless]

laios truly gets it (◕‿◕)♡

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #laios touden #nakamoto toshiro #anime #anime screencap #nonedit

[mattys-hs-edits]

Heya! Is it okay if we send in reference images for requests, or do you prefer just typing the description in the ask box? :o

images or text are okay!! images would be preferred if possible though, in case i dont understand what ur trying to say

#so either/or is fine! #nonedit

[vishnukadam]

#bridestyle #candidshot #candidpic #instaclick #vitthaldigital_vishnukadam #nonedit #nonedited Bride #Shubhangi_Jamge Bride of #manish_pawar (at चांदूजी पावडे मंगल कार्यालय) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfyzxOUPl5y/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#bridestyle #candidshot #candidpic #instaclick #vitthaldigital_vishnukadam #nonedit #nonedited #shubhangi_jamge #manish_pawar

[burnkastel]

I love you systems with problematic introjects I love you systems creating 'unpalatable' art I love you systems who feel ostracized from system spaces due to their introjects i love you systems with complex trauma that is understood through art

#∂ϱ ✦ meow [nonedit] #problematic fictive #problematic alter #problematic media #fictive #introject #this isnt to say blogs who dont do problematic sources are bad #personal bounaries are ok! #im not saying ANYONE is bad

[justmihathings]

Persuasion Buzz few basics

Persuasion buzz

What is Persuasion? Persuasion, is a symbolic process that takes place in a free state atmosphere, and the communicators use several strategies to urge others to transform their behaviors or attitudes with respect to a particular issue. Keep in mind that you can call it persuasion only when there is a deliberate attempt to change others' perceptions. The people who are being persuaded should make their choice using self-persuasion and, thus, should not be coerced by someone.Persuasion is described to be symbolic because it uses sounds and images.

Persuasion is used in every field especially business-marketing mix. The whole idea is not to be too pushy as it makes it distasteful for the client but to make them believe in your company and idea. They need it bad! Self Belief, Enthusiasm, Empathy, knowledge, Persistance, energy and time does the trick. Of course, don’t overdo or under do things.

Principals of persuasion

Reciprocity:

The practice of exchanging things with others for mutual benefit is called Reciprocity. An example of it is You must have noticed that whenever you visit restaurants, the waiter/waitress brings you a little something in the end along with the bill – it can be mint or a cookie or anything like that. If I ask you whether you are going to tip him/her better for bringing this little gift, you are probably going to say no. But research shows that the principle of reciprocity works in such situations, even without people consciously realizing it. Tips were found to increase by 3% when the restaurants gave mint in the end. Another interesting fact to note is when the gifts were doubled in amount, the tips not only increased but became four times the previous amount. But what is even more impressive is when the waiter/waitress provides the small gift, walks away, stops, turns back, and says, 'Here is an extra mint for you nice people,' the percentage of increase in tips goes through the roof and hits 23%. So, the manner in which the small gift at the end of the meal was given played a pivotal role in the percentage increase of tips. From this, a conclusion was made that the

Principal of reciprocity is not only about doing something for others but also making it unexpected and personalized as much as possible.

They’re of 3 types-Balanced reciprocity , positive reciprocity, negative reciprocity.

Consistency:

Such as: The health center asked the patients themselves to note down the details on their cards, and guess what? This caused an 18% reduction in missed appointments. The principle of consistency applies here too.

Social Proof:

You will notice that when Youtubers or bloggers ask you to subscribe to their channel or follow them, they also trumpet their popularity to you. This is also a classic example of social proof. When people see that a particular person has a huge following or subscriber count, they are more likely to subscribe to them than a person who has only 500 followers.

It types are

The multiple source effect:

exposed to the information through multiple channels instead of just one increases its trustworthiness because people consider it more credible if the same information is provided in multiple sources

One such example is the review section of various websites or the employee(somebody who’s working) and employers(somebody who’s worked)feedback The more the number of reviews under a particular product or service, the more a new customer will be inclined towards buying it.

Similarity:

Similarity is when the observer consciously or subconsciously sees that the opinion matches of the people.

Such that instead of critiquing the page of your previous company one writes same, and then critisizes in a normal way.

Halo effect:

Halo effect is when you listen more to people who you feel attracted too then those who you don’t.

Such that when glamorous and famous people, whom you admire, endorse something, you automatically feel that it is a good product and associate it with something positive.

#nonedited

[scarletsaphire]

Valerie thought she was strong. She had to be, for everything she's been through. Her strength is put to the test when she finds Danny Fenton bleeding out from a ghost attack.

[@duchi-nesten has promised to draw any and all smooches I write until Sunday. This is one of them. Expect a crap ton of nonedited shipping content over the next few days.]

If the past two years had proven anything to Valerie, it was that she was strong. She’d thought she was before, when her mother had died. It had been hard; of course it had been hard, how could it not be? But even then, she’d had her dad, and her friends, as fake as they ended up being. Valerie remembered being 10 years old, clutching a teddy bear she hadn’t looked at in years. Her mother had made the dress it worse by hand, stitched with Valerie peering over the table. She remembered tears staining the faded doll, washing away the last remaining scent of her mother. The doll was still sitting on her dresser, a little worse for wear, but remembered fondly.

And then ghosts started attacking, and her daddy lost his job, and all of her friends left her, and she had to start a second job on top of the mantle of protecting the city. It had been harder than anything she’d ever done before. She barely remembered the early weeks of it, everything a blur of exhaustion and blind fury. She had been too tired to cry, during most of it. Too tired and angry and busy to do anything but keep marching on.

Valerie had thought she’d been strong then. She had been, of course. She’d never dare think that she wasn’t. But as hard as it was at the time, she’d still managed to make friends. She managed to find a boyfriend, and Danny had been so sweet and understanding, never prying when she said she had to bail on their dates, never angry when she didn’t return calls or texts. And her father had still been there for her, even if he never had the energy to offer much besides a tired smile and a microwave meal ready to be preheated whenever she stumbled home after a late night shift at Nasty Burger (or a late ghost fight, but he didn’t know that.)

And then the ghosts got worse, and Valerie could barely breathe around everything she had to do to keep up with them, and Danny had still been so kind, so sweet, so patient through it all. But he was too close to it, and he was too close to being hurt, and she couldn’t be part of it. She wouldn’t. So she had broken up with him, citing a lack of time with work. And still, still he’d been so understanding. She could see it in his eyes, so bright and blue and rimmed with tears he wouldn’t let fall, but he still hadn’t gotten mad at her. He had offered a smile, and a hug, and they had parted ways.

Valerie hadn’t let herself cry then. She didn’t deserve to cry, not over her own decision. It was necessary to protect Danny. She’d rather see him safe and happy with someone else than to see him hurt, or worse.

She never could decide, in the late nights where she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, what that worse was. She knew it involved dying, but would it be worse to die and be gone forever? Or would it be worse to become a ghost? A creature with your face and your voice, but stripped of everything that made you you?

She hadn’t expected to need to know the answer so soon. Even in the darkest moments, she’d thought that even if she did, it would be her on the ground, her bleeding out, her body going cold. She had expected to be the one faced with the reality of becoming a ghost, with the horrors that it would bring. She hadn’t expected to be on the other side. She hadn’t expected to find Danny on the ground after her ghost fight gone wild; she hadn’t known he was there, hadn’t known that anyone was there besides her, Phantom, and the newest ghost filth that had dragged its way onto this side of reality. She wasn’t entirely sure what it had wanted; talking with the things was more Phantom’s speed than hers. She just knew that at some point Phantom had taken a hit and had gone to lick his wounds somewhere else, and she was left to do the cleanup.

She was lucky to have found Danny in the first place. It was dark, and quiet, and he hadn’t made a noise when he had gotten hit. He wasn’t making any noises now, either, not even the sound of breath escaping through his nose. That wasn’t good. That was the exact opposite of good.

Valerie didn’t hesitate as she took off her suit with a thought, the metal disappearing to wherever it went when she wasn’t using it. She didn’t care about keeping her identity secret, not when it could cost her Danny. Her hands were shaking when they reached to his shoulder, coming back drenched with a viscous liquid only slightly warmer than the air around her.

“No, no no no no,” she whispered under her breath, grabbing at his wrist to try and find a pulse. Nothing, but that could have been the fact that her hands felt like lead, that they weren’t cooperating with her. She hoped it was just that. Valerie leaned forward, pressing her ear against Danny’s chest, listening with baited breath. It took far too long for her to hear it, far too long of having her hair become matted with blood, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, she heard it. A soft, slow, rhythmic thumping noise coming from Danny’s chest. Even quieter, underneath it, she could hear a soft whir, a vibration she could barely pick up.

Valerie could not remember crying since her mother had died. She was strong, had been hardened over the years of hardship after hardship, of things that would have crushed someone else. She had not cried during any of those. Valerie Gray cried, burying her head into Danny’s chest, as relief and anxiety and regret flooded her. She sobbed even as she sent out an emergency signal through her Red Huntress suit, a signal she rarely ever had to use. It would alert the emergency response teams that there was a victim of a ghost attack, that it was her reporting it.

She sobbed until she felt a hand carding through her hair, weak and unsteady, but so soft. She looked up suddenly, meeting piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. “What’s wrong?” Danny said, voice just as soft and weak as his hand in her hair was.

She wiped away her tears as quickly as she could, only succeeding in dragging blood across her cheeks. One hand quickly went behind Danny’s head to try and support him, the other holding tightly onto his. “I thought,” her voice broke, vocal cords run ragged from her crying. “I thought you were dead.” It came out as little more than a whisper.

She hadn’t expected Danny to laugh. She hadn’t expected his laugh to sound like wind whipping through the eaves on a cold winter's day, to sound like a device powering on, to sound like the whistle of a distant bird call. “Well, you’re not exactly wrong with that.” Her grip tightened in his hand, the relief she had felt earlier disappearing, replaced by a sudden ice cold terror.

“Danny. What do you mean,” Her voice was not that of Valerie Gray, but of the Red Huntress. If he was saying what she thought he was saying, than she needed to be Huntress right now. It didn’t matter if the thing wore Danny’s face, spoke with his voice. If it was saying that Danny was dead, then… She didn’t know what she’d do. She never knew what she would do, if a ghost came at her wearing the face of someone she loved.

“I meant to tell you ages ago.” He wasn’t looking at her, eyes trained upwards on the sky. The stars reflected in his pupils. “I was just scared, I guess. You always hated me so much, and by the time you finally started to change your mind, it was too late, yknow?” He laughed again, and this time it was a human sound that came out of his mouth. “I wouldn’t be telling you now, if it wasn’t for the blood loss. Isn’t that sad?”

A part of Valerie relaxed. If what Danny was saying was true, it couldn’t be about him dying. She had seen him only earlier today, as alive and well as always. He couldn’t be dead; whatever it was, it had to be something else. It had to be. “Danny, its ok. Like you said, you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re not thinking straight. I called the paramedics, they’ll be here soon, you just-”

Danny sat straight up, cutting her off as she let out a surprised yelp. “Of course you called them…” Danny mumbled, pressing his head into his hands. “I have to go.” He started trying to get up, but Valerie pulled him straight back down to the ground.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” she hissed. “You have a gash so deep I could probably see bone, you need to go to the hospital.”

“I’ve had worse,” he said, before scrunching his eyes closed and shaking his head slightly. “That’s not going to help. Um.”

“What do you mean, you’ve had worse?” It took everything in her power to not scream out the words.

Danny took a deep breath, eyes still closed as he spoke. “I really, really didn’t want you to find out this way. I was kind of hoping you’d never find out.” Danny opened his eyes and met hers. She felt her whole body freeze, her breath caught in her lungs, a mangled scream barely able to pass her lips, as she took in his glowing green eyes. “I know you hate me. I know you’re probably seeing red.” His laughter this time was that of a waterfall crashing against rocks, of ice cracking under pressure, or branches snapping from the cold. It didn’t hold any mirth, and joy. “But please. You understand it, at least a little.” A flash of light, a blink of her eyes, and sitting where Danny had been was Phantom, shoulder bleeding green from the wound he had gotten in the ghost fight. “You can kick my ass as much as you want later. All I ask is that you don’t tell anyone.”

Valerie couldn’t move her tongue to talk. Even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to find the words. Distantly, a part of her mind was having a eureka moment. This was why Danny had always been so understanding, this was why Danny had always been so patient, because he had been doing it too. He had been doing it longer than she had, more often than she had. She had fought against him. She had shot him. It was a miracle he hadn’t dumped her first.

That part of her brain was drowned out by the majority that was focusing solely on the fact that Danny Fenton was dead. Had been dead for years, since at least the first appearance of Phantom. And no one had noticed. Not her, not his parents, not his best friends. No one had noticed.

The sounds of the ambulance cut through her thoughts. Valerie watched as Danny’s face grew panicked, as he grabbed her fingers and gently lowered them to her lap. “I have to go,” he said, and she recognized that face. How could she have missed it earlier, when Phantom was wearing the same expression Danny had when she broke up with him? Green eyes rimmed with tears, a sad smile on his lips. “I’m so-”

She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in, slamming her lips against his. It was a messy kiss, the exact opposite of romantic. Blood, tears, and ectoplasm dampened both of their lips, and their noses bumped into each other awkwardly, but Valerie didn’t care. She pulled away almost as quickly as she had kissed him. “You aren’t forgiven. Not by a long shot,” she said. “You have a lot of explaining to do, and I’m probably going to take you up on that offer to kick your ass. But I won’t tell anyone.”

This time, Phantom-Danny’s eyes couldn’t hold back the tears. “Thank you,” he said with a watery smile, and then he was gone, just as she was bathed in the red and blue lights of the ambulance.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #valerie gray #gray ghost #grey ghost #dp