#coding minutes acquisition

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒 .

# with black leg sanji.

returning earlier from the crew’s usual strolling through the newest island, you’re startled to witness sanji viciously lapping his tongue at a stolen tangerine. pitying his position, you allow him to have a taste of the real thing.

⎰ & afab!reader. smut (mdni!). oral. slightly sub!sanji. he eats you out like he’s starving. no y/n used.

W.C: 3K

when you decided to announce an early retreat to the sunny, much too dizzy to withstand the island’s scalding heat and deciding the most suitable course of action would be to seclude yourself within the cooler walls of the ship, the last thing you had expected was to find sanji in such a compromising position.

minutes previous to that encounter, you were quite frustrated. the shore town was a beating heart of commerce and people, filled with opportunities to find useful acquisitions to oneself. you were looking forward to a shopping-filled afternoon; to observe nami’s wits in action — her bargaining that was nothing but diplomatic theft — and listen to chopper’s ramblings about the books he managed to find. of course, the midday sun and its ruthless warmth had ruined it all, meaning that a day of privacy with sanji was the second best thing.

he had been the one assigned to watch the ship while the rest of the crew explored the town. considering the high temperature and his never-ending will to be of use, you had no doubt that the cook could be found in the kitchen, slicing up fruits to prepare delicious cocktails. hence why you followed the scent of tangerines, growing slightly puzzled. he was one brave man — or a suicidal one, you could not quite decide — for picking up nami’s tangerines when she was not around.

you should have knocked, truly. it was a mistake not to have done so. but you hadn’t cared much for courtesies whatsoever, eager for a refreshing beverage and perhaps the chance to share a pleasant conversation with the cook.

upon entering the kitchen, you were expecting to be met with ice and diced fruit, yes, but not under those circumstances.

half a tangerine was placed on the counter, as well as a glass cup with a singular and melting cube of ice. sanji busied himself with the other half of the fruit, swirling his tongue around the middle, his chin dripping with its juice, which caused you to clench around nothing; your legs forcing together as you observed the scene without a word.

after hearing the opened door, sanji froze in place, moving his head to catch a glimpse of the intruder as though he was experiencing the most terrifying seconds of his life. his shoulders slumped with a temporary sense of relief as he noticed your figure, before his entire frame threatened to burst up in flames out of embarrassment.

you cleared your throat, forcing a rough snicker in an attempt to lighten the shared atmosphere. then, finding yourself a seat, you grabbed the tangerine with one hand, placing the other on your chin. “having fun?”

although not aflame, sanji was as red as that one clown-pirate’s nose, averting eye contact as he placed the tangerine on the sink and searched for a cigarette. it became clearer that he had no courage to meet your eyes, stressing over the consequences of that endeavor. your glance, however, was tethered to the positioning of his fingers above his half of the tangerine, noticing polished and short nails, the well maintained hands, for a cook of his caliber could not indulge in carelessness.

the saliva sent to your dried throat was a fuel to a forest fire, rather than a soothing rain to a desert. your treacherous mind flashed sinful scenarios of those fingers. your juices of pleasure tainting them, warmth enveloping its skin as he curled them close to your sweetest spot before shoving his fingers into his mouth, loyal to his personal code of never wasting any food—

“pearl of my life,” he began at last, sounding a bit hesitant, yet calmer. “i can explain.”

sanji’s voice grew rougher due to the cigarette between his lips. inhaled nicotine that traveled past his vocal chords to settle on his lungs before he expelled them through his nostrils. you found yourself at a loss for words, wondering how one could differentiate the intonation of desire from the consequential coarseness of smoking. was there even a difference? oh, how desperately you wished to find out.

the cook seemed to have misinterpreted your silence, all of the sudden growing anxious, searching for a lighter despite not having finished his first cigarette just yet. luckily, for the both of you, the oven filled in the gaps with a repetitive beep, informing that the dish he had prepared was set to be served.

the scent of one of your most favored desserts danced around the talons of smoke from sanji’s unfinished cigarette. he smashed the tip of it against the ashtray, and hid his hands from your luscious eyes with the kitchen gloves. sanji had to bend to remove the sweet treat from the oven, offering you a clear sight of his butt and the powerful muscles of his thighs, strained against the fabric of his pants. as if hypnotized, you observed, with a certain hunger — for both the dish and the cook — as he then moved towards the counter.

sanji, at last, faced you. “a bargain, mon sirène.”

you raised an eyebrow with an expression of pure confusion, having your next words swallowed by hushed explanations as sanji’s composure crumbled, no longer bearing the weight of your silence. he knelt and encapsulated your hand with his, assuming a pleading tone.

“i thought i’d have a tad more time for myself, you see. at first, i was merely preparing you something sweet, planning to welcome you back with the luxury you deserved, but then my thoughts trailed entirely to you—”

sanji cleared his throat, the gears of his mind turning as he searched for a better explanation. “we’re discovering more of the new world, and oh, my golden star of the open seas, not a thing will ever be able to diminish your brightness and influence over my beating heart—”

“sanji,” you voiced softly.

“but, you see, what if a lady ever so happens to reciprocate my passion and desires? how could i live up to what she deserves? by training, of course—”

“sanji.”

“and oh, well, i meant to prepare tangerine cocktails to ignore those thoughts. but the fruit does resemble a woman’s intimacy—”

“sanji.”

“or so i heard. from zeff. i never had the honor of verifying it myself—”

“sanji!” you interrupted his ramblings, caging his face with your hands, not at all surprised by the high temperature of his skin.

the cook was a passionate man, with a heart that had been dipped in molten gold; filled with nothing but love and the urge to please. but you hadn’t fallen prey to fantasies of his embrace due to bashful flirting, well-pondered gifts and delicious dishes. though those were of aid, sanji, while clueless, managed to become the center of your affection because of his endless kindness, the infinite will to help those in need, those alluring and prestative eyes that never failed to brighten up in your presence.

processing his previous words, and the reasoning behind the decision to train his tongue with a fruit, you felt as though a sharp blade toyed with the fragile skin of your heart. the mere thought of witnessing his care delivered to someone else — a stranger at that — was both vexing and painful. for a second, under the burning and expectation-filled glance of his, you struggled to maintain your thoughts linear. what was needed for him to keep his attention focused on you, and you alone? the answer came with such easiness that you felt a bit ashamed.

sanji squeezed your hand, as if to tether your mind to the instance at hand. with a clear of your throat, you offered him a sympathetic glance.

“i’m not zoro,” you told him, aiming for a reassuring tone. “embarrassing you for the sake of having the last word isn’t something i’m interested in. if you want me to keep this interaction a secret, i will. no bargaining needed.”

he observed you as if the moon was kept in a pendant wrapped around your neck. for a second, your very name escaped from your mind.

“i have always known that you were as kind and merciful as a heaven sent angel. i’ll make sure to return the favor.”

oh! you were surprised that he caught on your desires. sanji was observant, but you were obstinate to a fault and thought that your behavior had been one of composure. well! at least you wouldn’t have to take the first step. he’d be the one to slide down the material of your shorts and panties and guide your hand to his blonde hair and—

sanji got up and moved towards the dessert, scanning the kitchen for the scarce fine cutlery in order to serve the sweet with a noble-worthy decoration. you shoved the revolt that surged due to the distance, mouth agape in both embarrassment and bewilderment. without a second thought or an ounce of patience, you gathered up the courage to act.

“you know, sanji,” you hummed. his sudden straightened posture made you feel a bit wicked, for he behaved as though a deer caught in the woods at the intonation shift of your voice. “if you wanted to practice, you could’ve asked me.”

the cherries he was carefully piling up on the plate crumbled like a house of cards. his nervousness was palpable. sanji turned his head towards your figure, face adorned with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“mockery isn’t a kind act, my seastar,” he said, voice strained. “but i would have forgiven you for committing even the most violent crimes.”

you blinked, straightening your posture. a bit disheartened, for he seemed unable to believe that you were capable of nurturing a genuine desire for him.

“sanji, i mean it. it would be my pleasure,” literally.

sanji shifted his entire body, facing you with certain hesitation. his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his glance trailed to your lips; then to your breasts; then glued to your crossed legs. his pupils dilated.

with careful steps, as if fearing that a sudden move would tear him from what he believed to be a dream, sanji approached you. the cook breathed in, trembling with nitid nervousness and excitement.

“how do we—should i kneel? i don’t—”

somehow, both his innocence and lack of experience managed to soothe your own nerves. although sanji seemed a wreck, your confidence grew as you tapped a finger on the dining table.

“would you mind if i sat on it?”

he flushed immediately. “what?”

sanji then noticed his error, clearing his throat and gripping a fistful of his hair with an apologetic expression, almost as if expecting a reprimand.

you merely smiled instead. “i can sit on your ‘it’ later, but you should learn the basics first.”

he nodded with fervor, observing with certain desperation as you sat on the edge of the dining table, parting your legs with ease; beckoning him closer.

sanji remained glued in place as though a statue, stunned to a fault. “would you get on your knees for me?”

his reaction was immediate, and the sound of his bones meeting the wooden surface of the ground made you wince for his sake. if the impact caused him pain, sanji didn’t express it. instead, he crawled closer, his breath fanning above your thighs.

“don’t feel forced to do it,” he stuttered at last, offering you the chance to halt.

“this is the part where you remove my shorts,” you instructed instead, and his fingers eagerly worked to unbutton the piece of clothing.

with a raise of your hips, you aided him in the task at hand, watching sanji drool at the sight of your drenched panties. it was endearing, but the lack of contact was maddening.

“you’re allowed to touch me.”

“where?”

“everywhere.”

he placed a careful hand on your thigh. with a groan, your fingers encouraged him to squeeze the tender flesh, and so he did. sanji approached your clothed cunt, his hot breath fanning above the sensible spot. you shivered in anticipation, gripping the blonde locks of his hair with non-thought strength.

before you managed to apologize for the harshness, sanji moaned, latching his mouth to your core. his tongue lapped at it as though a beast, carrying nothing but desperation, with no regards for the piece of cloth that separated you both. you let out a yelp of surprise, breathing heavily at the contact.

“sanji,” you whined, pressing his nose to your folds. “the p-panties.”

he understood it well enough, moving his face afar, nimble fingers tugging on the straps. you raised your hips to help him, and watched as sanji sniffed the material before shoving it inside his back pocket.

sanji trailed his eyes to your cunt. a broken whimper tore through his throat. “where is it?”

“what?”

he flushed, pressing one of his fingers at your slick entrance. you shuddered, and his face inched closer, a temptative kiss pressed to your middle. sanji’s visible eye caught on whatever he seemed to be searching, and his tongue followed-in-suit. he circled the muscle around your clit, slowly, as if testing out the waters.

you tugged on his hair. “faster. use your fingers as well.”

he hummed, sending a wave of vibrations through your core. an involuntary noise escaped your lips once sanji inserted two of his fingers inside. removing your hand from the one he had above your thigh, you gripped his wrist, correcting the angle.

“it’ll hurt less for you,” you explained, and sanji hadn’t even answered, too lost on your pussy to pay your words any mind. he was reacting to your instructions due to mere instinct.

sanji’s lips closed around your bud, sucking on it before he used his tongue to lap at your folds, moving it up and down. you arched your back, controlling the speed of his wrist until sanji caught on it himself, dominating the field.

as he moved his jaw, you felt the roughness of his goatee caressing your warm flesh. “scissor it.”

he obliged, alternating his movements. sanji removed his fingers until the nails, only to insert them again with your desired speed. he curled them inside, exploring your intimacy with his touch while he busied his mouth with your clit and folds.

the hand once placed on his wrist returned to the counter’s edge. you gripped it without much thought, eyes trailed to sanji’s face in between your legs. he interlocked his free fingers with yours, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your palm — aching due to your previous grip —, coating your hand with saliva as well. your juices dripped down his chin and glistened on his nose.

“don’t hurt yourself, bien-aimée,” sanji whispered, tears of glee pooling in his pleasure-wide eyes. “hurt me instead.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the protest melted into a broken moan as sanji spat on your cunt, replacing the fingers inside with his tongue. he whimpered at the taste; his thumb drew circles around your clit, while the longer fingers busied themselves with your folds.

your legs trembled, and your fingers tightened on his hair. sanji’s mewl of pleasure lost itself within your cunt, his thumb pressing harder on your clit as he plunged his tongue deeper, angling his head as if he was trying to devour you.

“l-left,” you told him through a broken moan, seeing stars when his tongue managed to reach a particularly sweet spot.

you felt the built pressure that indicated the nearing of release. sanji parted his face from your cunt for the briefest of moments. softly, as if handling a luxurious and delicate piece of golden cluttery, sanji grabbed a fistful of your thighs with both of his hands, dragging your body closer. your back met the wooden surface of the dining table, and before you managed to ground yourself, sanji had guided your fingers back to his scalp, allowing you to force his face into your pussy.

two fingers stretched you as he bit on your clit, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. you arched your back against the table, toes curling with pleasure.

“so good,” sanji moaned with desperation, his voice mingling with the wet sound of his fingers working on your cunt.

you felt him hump against nothing, nose teasing your folds, and kicked his sides meekly, searching for his dick. sanji caressed your ankle before guiding it to rest on his shoulder.

“ma belle,” he mumbled, kissing your leg, dragging your essence through your skin. “don’t worry about me.”

he fastened his pace, sucking on your inner thigh as his fingers led you to the heavens. you saw stars. your eyes rolled and your mouth parted to give way to a scream, yet your voice failed. somewhere amidst that cloud of pleasure, you caught the sight of his figure towering over your own, one hand grabbing your breast as he pressed his lips against yours. sanji’s tongue invaded your mouth and the taste of your essence, combined with the movement of his fingers, led you to the edge.

your climax came accompanied by a broken moan, diligently muffled by sanji. again, he knelt, removing his fingers lick at your leaking hole, swallowing as much of your cum as he could. you squirmed due to the overstimulation, tugging on his hair to force his face away from your cunt.

“too much,” you whispered, observing the ceiling while coming off from your high.

sanji’s clean fingers caressed your cheek, and he supported your weight once you gathered the will to sit. he pressed loving kisses to your neck, mumbling compliments against the skin. your eyes landed on his softening cock, the wet patch indicating that he came undone.

you tugged at the waistband of his pants, beckoning him closer. your fingers toyed with the zipper, and sanji shivered, his hand trembling where it laid above your hip.

“there’s no need to repay me, mrs. princess,” sanji voice out softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “it was enough a pleasure to get to touch you, and your dessert—”

“i want it,” you interrupted, grinning with newfound confidence. “and besides, it’s your turn to teach me, isn’t it?”

sanji had to resort to a tangerine before tasting the real thing. luckily for the bananas, you managed to dodge the same fate.

— 🐈‍⬛ : this was actually supposed to be about teaching him how to kiss. and then i had ten tangerines for dinner and thought “waiiiiit it does look like a pussy” and boom, 3k words. i ended it with humor because i need to be funny at all times, otherwise i die. it’s a medical condition!

[yenhan]

"Study session with the Lads"

Thoughts on TF141 & International student neighbor

Part One - Next - Masterlist

a/n: f!reader

Synopsis: You'll ace the next exam, hopefully.

C’mon over tomorrow, we’ll help you prep for that exam. P.S. You can’t refuse, Captain’s orders.

Most people would think Johnny gave you his number first, being the hopeless flirt he was. But no, it was Kyle. Unlike his fellow former sergeant, Gaz was subtler, able to hide his true intentions behind easy smiles and clever banter. No less effective, mind you.

Then again, the whole 'old men adopting a stranded student' relationship was weird. A detail for your therapist next session, surely. Were you supposed to be worried? Get your head checked? Probably. Creating a found family with three British men and a hyperactive Scot wasn’t exactly listed under “Common Expat Experiences.”

Back to the present: you left Kyle’s message on read for half a second before sending a slightly-too-eager—

Of course!

You imagined a light revision, a few exercises, a cup of tea brewed by Simon just the way you liked, perhaps Soap dramatically imitating phonetic symbols to distract you from spiraling over your performance anxiety.

Certainly not this.

At exactly 1700 hours, you knocked on their door clutching your battered copy of Teaching English as a Foreign Language for Dummies and a highlighter that had lost the will to live halfway through your last grammar workshop.

“Highlight only the important parts,” your brother used to say. Sure. But what if everything was important?

The living room looked like a war zone… but not a gross, sock-strewn bachelor disaster. No, this was tactical mayhem. Soap’s footprints crisscrossed the carpet in suspicious patterns.

Your study notes had been printed, laminated, and tacked onto a corkboard. Snacks were stacked on the coffee table like sandbags. A flipchart had been set up beside the telly. Someone had written across it in bold, underlined red: OPERATION: ACE THE PAST PERFECT.

Price looked up from the kitchen, a mug in hand. “No pressure, kiddo. Just your entire teaching career.”

Ghost, leaning against the wall, nodded solemnly. “We’ve got biscuits.” Was that supposed to help?

Gaz shuffled a stack of index cards, color-coded with terrifying precision. “Who’s quizzing her first on the difference between the present simple and the present perfect?”

“Define the unlawful killing of a human being without malice!” Soap barked like a drill sergeant. You gaped at him. Why was he wearing a peaked military cap? It was even worse than John's boonie hat.

“Wrong subject, Johnny,” Price called from the kitchen. “We’re not teaching criminal interrogation tactics, it’s English grammar.”

“Aye, but keeps her sharp, doesnae it?”

You sat gingerly on the couch between Gaz and a mountain of flashcards. “I... appreciate the effort, truly. But, uh, how did you get my notes?”

And was that your favorite set of pastel pens peeking out of John’s pocket?

“Found them last week. Binder fell down the stairs. Took the liberty of reorganizin’ ‘em by theme.” Ghost’s voice came from somewhere dark and ominous.

“You color-coded grammar topics?” You squeaked.

“Course I did. I’m not a monster. Stuck to your precious Pinterest palette, too.”

Well… You couldn’t exactly argue with that.

The first twenty minutes went smoothly.

Gaz walked you through the major language acquisition theories — Krashen, Vygotsky, yada yada — with flashcards that had doodles of confused stick-figure students on the back. Price explained different classroom management styles like he was giving a battlefield briefing: “Adapt to your environment. Don’t lose command of the room.”

You nodded dutifully, and sometimes got rewarded with a brief, proud head pat.

Then Soap made his move.

“Right! I’ve built a memory palace,” he announced.

“A what.”

“Memory technique! Visualization! Top-tier stuff!” He dragged you into the hallway, where he had drawn on the walls with dry-erase markers. You weren’t hallucinating.

“See here?” He pointed at a doodle of a dragon labeled ‘Past Tense Pete’.

“This beastie guards all irregular verbs. Ye’ve gotta slay him with correct conjugations!”

“What is happening?!” You shrieked, staring in horror at the doodle of an adverbial goblin. John, your knight in shining mutton chops, came to your rescue.

“She asked for help revising!” Soap protested.

“I asked for basic revision, not a full Dungeons and Dragons campaign!”

You pointed dramatically at Johnny, ready to throw him under the bus called ‘Captain Price.’

While Price and Soap bickered about the ethical limits of creative teaching aids, Gaz slipped a flashcard into your hand... CONDITIONALS: First vs. Second – Remember: If I win the lottery, I will freak out. If I won the lottery, I would freak out.

Genius? Madness? Hard to tell.

Then Ghost, quietly but ruthlessly, dragged a chair into the center of the room.

“Quiz time. No fluff. Answer fast, or you owe me a push-up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not doing push-ups over auxiliary verbs.”

“Then don’t get them wrong.”

And he began rapid-firing questions: “What’s the communicative approach? How many types of conditional sentences? Example of a weak modal verb?”

You answered, getting most of them right. You were still terrified.

And then, from the kitchen: “QUIZ TIME’S OVER, I MADE A POWERPOINT!” The Scot roared.

—

At some point, you were cross-legged on the carpet, biscuit crumbs on your notes, explaining the importance of student talking time versus teacher talking time while they all nodded proudly like awkward but loving uncles.

“You’ll smash it,” The captain finally said, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“If not,” Soap winked, “we’ll sneak into the university database and ‘fix’ it.”

“Please don’t,” you whimpered.

As you packed your things, Ghost quietly handed you a neat stack of flashcards. “Keep these. I made extra copies.”

You flipped through them: clear, minimalist, perfect. You smiled. “Thanks, Batman.”

His eyes crinkled behind the mask. “You’re welcome, Robin.”

Your notes had never been clearer. Your brain, however, felt flash-banged by a PowerPoint titled “How to Conquer the Passive Voice Like a Spartan.”

You would never forget the dragon guarding irregular verbs.

[solcohedron]

Realized that I never got around to explaining my classpect post (oops)

Hasegawa Ken - Prince of Void

So, Hasegawa definitely mirrors light—most clearly in the way that light represents knowledge (yadda yadda quiz show guy) and in the way that he pursues it: he’s the only person to find out about the audience and the other killing games. The main reason that I don’t think that Hasegawa’s directly Lightbound, though, is because of how he’s presented in the story—Light players are big actors in the story that they’re in, and as a result, they’re often in the spotlight. Look at Rose, Vriska, Aranea—these characters lay themselves out to the camera, we see their thoughts, plans and fears. They love to yap about everything, including themselves. 

Hasegawa, on the other hand, ducks out of the spotlight as much as he can. He’s a pretty unassuming guy that keeps to the background, both in canon and towards the audience. He doesn’t really have that “stage presence” that Light players typically have, and while we know that he can talk a lot on other topics that interest him, we never really see him talk about himself and his thought process in the way that Light players do—barring the final minutes of the fifth trial, of course. It might be a reach, but we could view that as kind of a swan song, where by answering the ‘why’ of his actions, he finally destroys the secrecy and ambiguity surrounding himself.

If we take a look at the Prince side of things, I mean—destruction through void? Destruction through secrets and mystery? Just take a glance at literally any part of chapter 5, that’s basically all he does! Something I want to highlight here is that one Ojima ‘grabbing’ scene, because besides it being super cool, it’s also a direct example of how the inherent vagueness of the medium is exploited to ‘cover up’ what’s actually occuring–super Voidy stuff!

We also see a lot of destruction of Void—Ken, like, hates Void. Like stated before, Ken abhors a mystery, and spends a huge chunk of time trying to dig deeper into the killing game.  Ironically, it’s this drive for understanding, and the acquisition of that knowledge, that (at least partially) breaks him apart, which is where we get that one really good line about ‘knowing’ near the end. (It’s also a very cosmic horror-coded line, which is another theme of the Void aspect, but I digress.) 

So, yeah! TL;DR: Hasegawa mirrors light, but embodies a lot of Void-y aspects through the way the audience perceives him and Prince-y aspects through the way he interacts with that Void.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 2 (I've Got You Under My Skin)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,326

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: another night, another guest.

----------

The Paper Moon is open to all walks of life– every culture, creed, and color is welcome through the doors of your lounge. This is usually a happy truth, but these days you’ve been harboring a clockwork headache when that cab driver stops by.

He gives you the base courtesy of sticking to a schedule: around 7pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jake will waltz in on the heels of James Wesley and whatever company he has in tow. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Jake sits at the same back table while Mr. Wesley conducts his business. And every Tuesday and Thursday, you play nice as you check in on your patrons. Including the cabbie.

“Another stellar set, Ms. Songbird,” he lilts as you give a courtesy nod, brushing past his table in the hopes of keeping things brief.

“Thank you, Mr. Lockley.” Your voice is tense as you breeze by. Jake Lockley, you’d learned from the wait staff: the legal name for the thorn in your side.

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind his presence as much if he didn’t insist on making it known every evening. You had learned to expect him in the crowd whenever you’d hear a high-pitched whistle ringing above the applause each night. The sound grates at your resolve and forces you to plaster on your stage-ready smile a bit longer every time you make your rounds.

“Hey Songbird,” he calls out after you. “Have a drink with me?”

“A drink at my own bar? How inspired.” You press your lips into a firm line, the rest of your face broadcasting your disinterest to no avail. Every week he asks; every week you say no.

“Suit yourself,” he sighs, always backing down but never taking his eyes off you. It’s one thing to be watched onstage; it’s another to feel his gaze on the ground level. You feel a bit of relief every time you see him walk out with his client, tipping his hat to you at the end of each evening. His smile remains undeterred, no matter how cold a shoulder you offer.

It’d be damn near charming if you trusted it.

----------

Today’s not the day to let your guard down, the unmarked letter in your hand reminds you as you pace around the backstage corridor. It’s the third of its kind you’ve received this month. You worry your lip between your teeth as you pour over its contents, even though you know them by heart.

“To whom it may concern….” “...property acquisition…” “...would be in your best interest…” “...other businesses under our care …”

“‘Our care,’ that’s rich,” you mutter. “Remind me to stop opening the mail during business hours…”

“Uh, okay?” Mauricio agrees hesitantly as he rounds the corner. “Was wondering where our ‘fifteen-minutes-to-curtain’ call was, but I see you've been busy.”

“Oh good golly, is that really the time?” You fumble to put the letter back in its envelope. “Haven't even finished my makeup…” you trail off as you head to your dressing room, your drummer right behind you.

When you open the door, you see a small bundle of flowers sitting on your side table. Oh for crying out loud.

“How many times do I have to–” you're muttering to yourself again as you take the flowers in hand, moving swiftly across the room.

"What are you doing?" Mauricio sputters.

"If that man thinks he can weasel into my good graces with a few pretty flowers-" you huff as you drop the bouquet in a wastebasket. "–he's going to be sorely disappointed."

"Those were– those were mine." Mauricio admits softly.

You freeze, turning to him. "Really?"

He scoops up the bouquet. "I wanted to surprise you. Guess I should've left a note," he chuckles.

"Oh, Maurie, thank you." You rush over to bring him into a hug. Sometimes he's too sweet for his own good.

".... This is from Mr. Lockley." Mauricio breaks away to hold out a single white rose he'd been hiding behind his back.

You sigh. "He's a persistent son of a gun, isn't he?"

He nods, dimpled smile growing by the second. “I think he's swell, miss. The boys think so, too.”

You turn the rose over in your hand. “I want you to be careful around him, Maurie. We don't know what he's about.”

“I think he's made it pretty clear,” he laughs.

“Hm. Perhaps.” You raise an eyebrow. "And I suppose you both brought flowers because...?"

Mauricio brims with excitement, taking the rose back and bundling it with the bouquet he'd gifted. "Mr. Lockley sounded real set on gettin’ you something sweet," he starts. He puts the flowers in an empty vase on your vanity.

"I didn't mean to steal his thunder, but I like it when you smile." He wipes his hands on the front of his pants and his expression drops a bit. "You haven't been smilin’ as much these days, Ms. Songbird."

You busy yourself with the fallen petals at your feet. “I smile all the time, what do you mean?”

“I guess I'm saying… there's you onstage, then there's, I dunno, you -you. They smile differently, s'all.”

He's right, as much as you hate to admit it. You look over at the flowers. “Well, thanks for giving me a reason to smile for real, Maurie.” You press a kiss to his forehead. “My mind's a bit out of sorts tonight. So thank you.”

The youth's dark brown eyes fill with concern. “Anything we can help you with?”

You shake your head, moving back to your vanity. “Nothing to worry yourself over, darling. Just make sure the boys are set. We have a show to put on.” 

He nods and leaves your dressing room. As you apply your lipstick, your hand trembles.

----------

Wednesdays have become your favorite part of the week: the day you catch your breath between visits.

In the time before the first half of your set, you make your usual rounds to each table.  Eventually you work your way to the front of the seating area, where you see a familiar silhouette beside the stage. A pair of dark glasses are perched on his nose, which crinkles as he smiles at the sound of your footsteps.

“Mr. Murdock,” you greet him warmly, taking his extended hand. “Always a pleasure.”

“Hey, kid.” He squeezes your hand in response, still beaming up at you. Even in the dimmed lounge, Matt Murdock’s smile can light up a room. 

“Come off it,” you huff in mock annoyance. “Thanks for stopping by on such short notice.”

“It sounded urgent, of course I’d be here. Do you have all the paperwork together?”

You eye the empty seat next to him. “I have a whole file waiting for you backstage… I’m sorry, is Franklin not joining you this evening?”

“Not tonight, but I do have another guest coming. Is that drink still on the house for a new plus-one?”

“Any friend of Nelson & Murdock is a friend of mine.” You brush a few stray hairs from his forehead. “Is this a guest for business or pleasure?”

He laughs, waving your hand away. “I suppose that depends.”

“Well, as long as they’re a fan of good music, they’re welcome here anytime,” you hum as you straighten his collar. “I swear, Matty. It wouldn’t kill you to dress to impress.”

“You dote too much. I’ll catch up with you later.” You leave him to his drink, making a mental note to demand his dress shirts for a routine tailoring.

The dinner rush brings the usual crowd, and you eye your friend’s table every so often. The seat beside him is still empty. You wonder if Matt was just pulling your leg and wanted to keep both complimentary drinks for himself.

But you don’t have time to ponder that. Instead, you scribble a few notes down and pass them out to your bandmates.

“Ah gee, boss, changing the setlist again?” Your pianist whines, scanning your notes. He didn’t ask tonight, but last-minute song requests are a longstanding favor to Matt when he has a lady to impress (which is often). For the sake of his mysterious guest, you swapped in some softer, more romantic pieces.

“Jackie, don’t tell me you’re not up to the task?” You eye him sternly. “Half the gig is improv anyway, and these are all songs we’ve done before.”

Jackie’s budding protest is silenced by the bassist via an elbow to the ribs. Arguing with you is never worth it: a lesson everyone learns sooner or later. Some take longer than others. 

Rubbing his side, Jackie concedes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

You wink. “That’s a tune I like to hear.” Smiling sweetly, you lead the band's procession to the stage.

“Good evening,” you croon into the microphone, “and welcome to The Paper Moon. I’m Ms. Songbird, this fine-feathered crew beside me are The Jays– let’s have some fun tonight.” You flash a rehearsed smile so dazzling it can be seen from the farthest table in the lounge, and you scan the room with anticipation. The moments before a performance are so precious; even with a setlist, anything can happen the moment that first note is played. Every night, you revel in the possibility. 

A familiar two-toned whistle draws your gaze to Matt’s table right below the stage, where the seat beside him is no longer empty.

Hat resting on the table, chin propped in his hands, you find yourself staring down at the face of none other than that infuriating cab driver bearing a grin so wide you hope it splits his cheeks.

Fighting to keep your smile from turning into a grimace, your eyes snap back to the middle of the room. “This first song goes out to one of our favorite patrons… and his company,” you add, your voice betraying your restraint with a crack. You don’t look down, but you just know that damned cabbie is smiling even harder.

Despite the rocky start, you and your band pull together another unforgettable night of music. You perform with your eyes closed more than usual; you refuse to give Jake Lockley the satisfaction of serenading him with your best love songs.

Once the music portion of the night is through, all the frustration you’d pushed down swiftly rises to the surface as you watch them pal around right under your nose. You rush to the floor level to get this over with.

“What are you doing here?” you blurt out, glancing between Jake and Matt. Your friend’s eyebrows raise at the outburst.

“Last I checked, this is a free country. I’m allowed into most businesses.”

“No, I mean– it’s not Thursday. You come on Thursdays.”

“Why Ms. Songbird, I didn’t think you cared enough to keep tabs on me.” He leans his head on his hand and stares up at you. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

You want so badly to snap back at him, but instead you look at Matt. “ This is who I changed our set list for?”

“In my defense, I never asked you to,” he grins.

“You didn’t tell me you were so familiar with our lovely hostess here, Murdock. Seems you have more pull with the house than you let on,” Jake muses in surprise.

“A privilege he’s bound to lose if he's not careful,” you say through gritted teeth. Like it or not, Jake is a guest. And you still have an image to uphold. “How’d you have the pleasure of running into this one, Matthew?”

He barely has time to respond before Jake's leaning in farther, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, chin up, doll– can’t say I’m too surprised he’s a friend of yours. Always has a knack for finding the pretty ones, this guy.” He nudges Matt’s side, who’s far too quiet for your liking.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” you huff.

“‘Course, I keep him around for that brain of his, not so much the mug.”

“He's my lawyer,” you say in unison. What makes your brow furrows leads Jake to bark out a laugh, shaking Matt in his grip as he tugs him closer.

“What are the odds of that, eh Murdock?” He beams up at you. Your frown deepens. “He's helped me with the occasional run-in with the law.”

“Oh, so you're not just a smart-mouth but a criminal, to boot?” 

“Nothing but a few civil suits, doll. Got off clean every time.” He winks as you cross your arms, glaring at Matt.

“You have interesting taste in company, Mr. Murdock.” You turn on your heel and head backstage.

“No kidding,” Jake continues to laugh as you walk away. Once you're out of sight, his smile falters. “So when you said you had a friend in show business–”

“Yeah.”

“And when I told you about the dame I've been eyeing at this new lounge–”

“–I knew exactly who you were talking about.”

“So you've been letting me parade around like a putz this whole time? ” A smack upside the head earns Jake a kick to the shin beneath the table.

“That, my friend, was all you. I mean bravo, you were in rare form tonight.” That signature smile returns as Jake pushes a hand through his hair. “I should probably go smooth some feathers. Catch up with you in an hour?”

Jake downs the rest of his drink and stands when Matt does. “You know I love our little talks.” Casting a final glance towards the stage door, he adjusts his jacket and moves from the table.

Matt catches his elbow. “She’ll come around.” He almost sounds convinced of it himself.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got other fish to fry tonight. Promise I’ll save you the big ones.”

Shaking his head, Matt makes his way backstage. “I’m starting to think some of that vitriol isn’t unearned.”

They part ways– Matt heading backstage, Jake to the moonlit streets. 

Bigger fish to fry, indeed: all swimming in the Kingpin’s tank. 

----------

A/N: thank you to everyone who has expressed enthusiasm over this little passion project!! it's been so fun putting it together, and i'm looking forward to sharing more with you. expect to see more of our favorite lawyer in the future (we have fun here)

as always, thank you for reading <3

tag list: @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[pure-ablution]

Maybe this is by a very, very long shot, but do you have any resources, techniques, or any sort of info on how to autocorrect in French? My very important french exit exam is coming up and while I have perfect scores in content and organization, I lose all my points in language.

I make so, so many anglicismes, erreurs de punctuation, de conjugaison. It causes me a lot of great distress. I'm genuinely not able to see errors in my writing, even when they are clearly there. I know I need to practice, but I don't even know how to practice actually making minimal mistakes in a long, handwritten essay.

I’m so sorry for not getting back to this more quickly; I hope that I’m not answering too late!

Stop thinking of such little errors as random mistakes. They’re not at all random; they’re patterns, and diagnosable patterns at that. It’s very easy to view arbitrary errors that slip under the radar in proofreading as evidence of hopeless failure, but they’re actually just symptoms of a repeated misunderstanding. I recommend starting a little personal error corpus: take 3–4 of your past essays, which have been corrected by a tutor or educated native speaker, and create a spreadsheet with 3 columns:

Error: copy the exact sentence, with the error highlighted or bolded in some way.

Why it’s wrong: a brief grammatical explanation, taken from a proper grammar book but summarised in your own words, that you understand.

Correct version: the sentence rewritten so as to now be grammatically correct.

Then, go through this little spreadsheet and begin to highlight your personal patterns. Perhaps you keep using à or pour after chercher; maybe you consistently mess up agreement in passé composé with être. Whatever it is, highlight it. It’s more than likely that you’ll find you’re not actually ‘bad at French grammar’, you just have under a dozen consistent bugs in your mental code. Once you identify them, you can tackle them head-on.

You’re preparing for a handwritten exam. These sorts of things can feel cruelly archaic nowadays (talk to the girl who has taken all of her university exams to date by hand 😭), but they can actually be a blessing in disguise; typing can mask our errors with autocorrect and constant backspacing, whilst handwriting forces you to commit to a sentence and a grammatical decision. I highly recommend you make the most of that: write timed paragraphs, every single day, by hand, on a real topic—maybe summarising an article you’ve just read, or a discursive piece on les réseaux sociaux or le patrimoine or another of those subjects examiners love—and then, after 15–20 minutes or so of handwriting, retype the paragraph into a doc. This is the point at which you can start editing. I recommend BonPatron or Language Tool, but you could also just use Grammarly in French; either way, run your paragraph through a grammar checker to scan for the most obvious errors. Then, print it out, and hand-annotate your own errors, with your little personal corpus and most common errors in mind, and write your own comments in the margins. This teaches your brain to notice patterns of sloppiness and flag them in real time. You’ll find that your hand starts to hesitate slightly before the word à or de, and that hesitation is your brain rewiring itself.

Try to read like a copy-editor. Your ask tells me that you’re already strong in content and structure, so I could hazard a guess that you read a lot, which is, for the record, excellent for language acquisition! Now, though, I’d suggest reading a little differently; rather than reading novels and articles in French to absorb vocabulary, start reading more like a copy-editor. Take a short, well-written article from somewhere like Le Figaro or Le Point, and go at it with full syntactical analysis. Highlight every comma and subordinate clause, circle and label each verb tense, write out full S-V-O diagrams for particularly complex sentences so that your brain can understand the mechanics. Ask yourself questions: why this structure? Why this punctuation? You could even go full syntactician and analyse it like I did my passages for my Latin Language paper—whatever works for you. Then, try rewriting the first paragraph from memory, and compare it to the original. What did you miss? What did you simplify?

Practise micro-repetition exercises. This is a trick mostly used in classical language paedagogy; I learnt it in Latin and Greek, but it would definitely work for French, too. Choose one short, typical, basic sentence that contains a grammatical structure you struggle with. For instance:

Elle est allée à la boulangerie chercher du pain, qu’elle avait oublié d’acheter la veille.

Copy it by hand ten times, slowly, then cover it, and try to write it from memory.

Now, tweak it, just slightly, each time. Change the subject to ils. Change qu’elle avait oublié to qu’elle oubliera. Make it negative: Elle n’est pas allée … Have fun with switching the sentence structure, playing with the syntax, rephrasing and placing in different verb tenses. This way, you’re not simply memorising a single sentence, but practising how the logic of French grammar really behaves, so that you’ll be able to apply the very same logic to a different sentence in the future.

I think that, given just a few weeks of really militant, methodical practice, in which you forgive yourself for errors but don’t shy away from facing them directly, you’ll be so surprised at just how much your command of French has improved. If you like, you’re welcome to send me a paragraph, and I’ll walk you through how I’d correct it, but honestly, I think you have the drive and ability already—it’s just not always that easy to know how to tackle the little things without some guidance from someone who has struggled with much the same thing! Courage, anon, and let me know how your exam goes 💕

[adragonsfriend]

Reading Darth Plagueis,

by James Luceno.

Ok I finished this book. It was a wild ride, here are some highlights, (anything in quotes, " ", is in fact, a direct quote). Spoilers, I guess.

———

“At some point, probably when he was focused on murder, a rock or other projectile had pulped a large area of his lower back.”--Plagueis

Yeah man that always happens to me too when I’m focused on murder

———

Me thinking, *Plagueis is way too normal for a sith,* about five seconds before the narration goes *Plagueis was hungry. he thought about eating the eggs of some sentient lizards and also the sentient lizards themselves, but restrained himself*

———

Plagueis, a banker: nOt all mUNns R bAnkErS u kNoW

A pirate who wants a bribe: be better for you if you were some financial wizard

Plagueis, a literal wizard:

———

Captain La (the random pirate): how do u know my name

Plagueis: *truthing* I sliced you ship’s systems,

Plagueis: *lying* it’s not like I’m a telepath or something

———

*at the evil rich people party*

"Republic senators, at least those that weren’t present, would be subjected to ridicule—"

I love how the narration says "subjected" like Bail Organa would give fuck about some assholes making fun of him

———

Plagueis in a business meeting as hego damask:

Repeats himself multiple times conducting experiments in trying to force suggest to a resistant species

His assistant: bro what r u doing ur making us look bad

———

omg young Palpatine is so Anakin coded. Genuinely he throws tantrums it’s perfect

———

Tag this accidental baby acquisition some random dathomiri lady just handed maul over like a sac of potatoes

———

Sidious, about to gaslight, girlboss, gatekeep, mansplain, manipulate, and threaten to manslaughter Nute Gunray within an inch of his life all in the span of a 2 minute zoom call: *wearing his Sith cloak on their holocall* what is up my guy? did u get the rare collectible bird I sent u anonymously a while back?

Nute Gunray: uhh…yes…um… its very nice…who are you and why r u hiding in that hood bro?

Sidious: it's the traditional clothing of my Order

Gunray: ur a cleric?

Sidious: "Do I seem like a holy man to you?"

Me: the only holes I see here are in your logic, morals, ability to feel compassion, and *waves hand all encompassingly* vibes

———

Dooku: if one more Jedi dies because of the indolence of the republic, I’ll leave the Jedi and refuse to look back

Palpatine: *listening attentively*

———

Plagueis & Maul: (separately) gloat about being Sith Lords to people they’re about to kill

Sidious:

Sidious: these idiots cannot keep a secret to save their lives—

———

Plagueis ACTUALLY believes Sidious is about to appoint him co-chancellor. what an idiot.

———

Padme shocking both Sith at every turn during the Naboo crisis is sending me

———

Oooh Sidious' murder rant is incredible. He's like Plagueis you manipulated and abused me, now i'm gonna kill you so I can go do that to other people without you hanging over my shoulder. It's like the evil but still cathartic version of Zuko's speech to Firelord Ozai.

———

Dooku: That zabrak guy was definitely a Sith. There has to be another one, probably the master

Sidious, standing right next to him in a shadowy warehouse wearing a black cloak: “how would one even begin to know where to look for this other Sith?”

———

“For an instant, Palpatine perceived a touch of his younger self in Skywalker”

This book needs to stop. Maybe consider pulling its punches sometime. The only mark of disapproval I have here is that this is portraying Obi-Wan as an asshole for the five seconds he’s present

———

Bad news, the book did indeed stop. I have been gravely injured, but also greatly amused. The experience of reading this book is just constant vacillation between *wow so Sith Lord, so scary, so evil* and *Plagueis, my guy, that is the dumbest ideology I’ve ever heard. maybe if you took a nap (for the first time in 20 years) you’d finally say something that made sense*

I will also confess that I was taking detailed notes about Plagueis for an AU idea I have that I will not be starting for at least another year because I am married to BHOT and I refuse to be like the rest of you sorry fucks with 17 wips (ignoring that fanfic is in fact the only genre of writing I do not have at least 17 wips in)

[miaikon]

From learning a Sci-Fi script to picking up a Con-Lang (or, a very long very nerdy Star Wars rant)

I need to rant at this to the void, and this blog is my go-to for these things. I feel free to do so since no-one comes here anyways.

A bit of background

(or, the part you can skip if you want to get to the nerdy rant now): I've been into Star Wars on and off since my teens. I'm nearly 40, so that's a few decades. I do watch the new series, and became very fond of "The Mandalorian" really fast. In-between seasons, my spouse and I also re-watched most of Clone Wars. In early 2024, we started a Star Wars 5E TTRPG campaign with a friend, where my spouse DM's, Friend plays a Jedi, and I play a Mandalorian (and she's just so much FUN to play). My character is one I came up with around... 2017? Maybe? IDK if you can find her if you scroll down far enough. Currently re-designing her, though. I originally came up with her after working my way through the Travis books and becoming fascinated with Mandalorians for some reason.

Accidential Language Acquisition

My latest obsession (and distracion from the summer heat) started with me looking up some Mandalorian phrases and curses for RPG purposes. Yes, I know, none of this is canon any more. None of us cares. We kind of make our own canon. Then I found out there's a script - and I was lost. I loved codes and obscure scripts as a child, and I did learn to read Hiragana in my 20s, so how hard could this be? I looked for a chart and found this site, which offers practice reading (and a dictionary, amongst other stuff). So, I started learning the characters in, I think, late July. I read quite well by now, my writing does lag behind. Juuust... the practice phrases are written in the Mandalorian language.

I didn't set out to learn a constructed language. I really did not. I just wanted to know WHAT I was typing. So I looked up the sentences on the cheat-sheet after I got them right. And some words started repeating, and I picked them up. Kinda automatically. I swear, I only practice reading/ writing this for like 15 to 30 minutes a day. After a while, I half-understood what some sentences said. Reading Star Wars fanfiction did not help (or help a lot, depending on your POV) there. I looked up missing words, building a bit of a vocabulary. It's erratic still, but I noticed something. In conversations, my brain sometimes supplies the Mandalorian words I know now. (I usually do catch myself, although stuff tends to slip in when I'm alone with my spouse, to his amusement.) My language center does not know this is a con-lang, after all. I also tried to write a ransom note in Mandalorian, which was a fun experience (for a private project). Through fan fiction and looking up stuff, I also learned about the Legends version of Mandalorian culture. That stuff is fascinating, although I feel like a visitor to an abandoned city. Everyone's gone (since Legends is out of print and stuff is falling into obscurity), but it's still cool to look around. It gives me a kind of bittersweet, nostalgic feeling, too. So many passionate minds, and things I'm so happy to experience, but wished I knew about sooner. Aay'han, if you will, only it's memories I never made. Nostalgia for what could have been. Not gonna lie, I'm obsessed. It's a feeling I seldom get now, although it was quite frequent when I was a teen. It feels great and enjoyable and unhealthy and I think I need to stop. I'm an adult, and I'm too old to fangirl. Or, at least, I keep telling myself this.

Analyzing a Con-Lang because my nerd brain can't stop looking for patterns

Mandalorian actually HAS different words for the people, the planet, the ruler, and the language. Let me start with Manda, which is the collective soul (or the concept of) of the Mandalorian people. The people themselves are Mando'ade (Children of the Manda/ of Mandalore. Singular Mando'ad). The language is Mando'a (no clue why, language would be joha. Maybe Mando'joha was too long and it got shortened). The planet is Manda'yaim (yaim meaning home. Simple enough). The ruler is the Mand'alor (alor meaning, well, leader. Also simple).

Before long, my brain started making connections between some things. Simple things first - "Ke" or "K' " at the start of a sentence is always the imperative form of something ("Command form"). The words for "you", "I", and the third person pronoun. Then, between words, trying to fit new words with what I already know. Like [something] ad was most likely about people. I built myself bridges that are just theories - I am not a linguist in any fashion, and I'm just trying to make sense of what's there. Like mirsh meaning brain(cell), kot meaning strenght, and mirshko is courage - so, "brain-strength"?

And no, for all of you out there that are as nerdy as me, this is not a full language. There isn't a word for "call" or "get in contact with" I could find, for example. Some authors just wanted to add flair to their writing, so an incomplete thing is what we have. Even so, I am kind of hooked in the weirdest way. I play around, trying to make my own sentences and combined words. It's fun, and private, and nobody needs to know. Except for the two people I TTRPG with.

IDK any more where I wanted to go with this. There might be a part 2, someday. If anyone read this, I appreciate you. If anyone read this and had this weird kind of obsession happen to them as well, let's talk. It might just be the universe's weirdest midlife crisis.

[pitagain]

#365DaysOfVGM Day 181:

Coalescence/... con lentitud poderosa (Risk of Rain/Risk of Rain 2 [2013/2020])

Need I mention the instruments this time? They truly do speak for themselves here, as the whole list’s halfway point. It’s also 1 of the slowest-paced tracks here, so think of it as a sort of intermission between all the action-packed and relaxed tracks placed before and after this one.

The survivors are at the very last area; the spaceship leading the way back home. And so, the tune starts out relaxing to express relief, but always keeps a constant melancholy melody that fits well with how complex the track gets later on; a grim reminder of everything needed to be slain in order to get here, and how much more will still be required to make it to safety.

It’s not like there's a choice either; it’s either this planet’s life, or their own that perishes, and the player characters involved, whether through death or survival, will have this memory to likely haunt them for the rest of their existence… if they’re not already off the deep end, that is.

Near the end, this already emotional track simply explodes into what I consider cool and sad at the same time, making it what I find to be the (Closest to) perfect way to end off this indie roguelike classic from almost a decade ago.

Shoutouts to Risk of Rain 2’s “...con lentitud poderosa” which pays tribute to this track with a shared melody and even slower pace; that already makes for yet another ambitious setup!

And now, long after I prepared this description, a remake called “Risk of Rain Returns” has been recently announced! Although I don’t trust Gearbox to handle the series properly following their acquisition, some of the most important staff from the original are back, hopefully to fix some of the biggest issues from the original’s imperfect coding as well, since that’s getting remade from the ground up too; faith in this remake is quite justified at the moment, even with the worries in mind, let’s see where it goes from here!

(Length [Original]: 5.5+ minutes, […con lentitud poderosa]: Nearly 5 minutes)

[techit-rp]

Financial Modeling in the Age of AI: Skills Every Investment Banker Needs in 2025

In 2025, the landscape of financial modeling is undergoing a profound transformation. What was once a painstaking, spreadsheet-heavy process is now being reshaped by Artificial Intelligence (AI) and machine learning tools that automate calculations, generate predictive insights, and even draft investment memos.

But here's the truth: AI isn't replacing investment bankers—it's reshaping what they do.

To stay ahead in this rapidly evolving environment, professionals must go beyond traditional Excel skills and learn how to collaborate with AI. Whether you're a finance student, an aspiring analyst, or a working professional looking to upskill, mastering AI-augmented financial modeling is essential. And one of the best ways to do that is by enrolling in a hands-on, industry-relevant investment banking course in Chennai.

What is Financial Modeling, and Why Does It Matter?

Financial modeling is the art and science of creating representations of a company's financial performance. These models are crucial for:

Valuing companies (e.g., through DCF or comparable company analysis)

Making investment decisions

Forecasting growth and profitability

Evaluating mergers, acquisitions, or IPOs

Traditionally built in Excel, models used to take hours—or days—to build and test. Today, AI-powered assistants can build basic frameworks in minutes.

How AI Is Revolutionizing Financial Modeling

The impact of AI on financial modeling is nothing short of revolutionary:

1. Automated Data Gathering and Cleaning

AI tools can automatically extract financial data from balance sheets, income statements, or even PDFs—eliminating hours of manual entry.

2. AI-Powered Forecasting

Machine learning algorithms can analyze historical trends and provide data-driven forecasts far more quickly and accurately than static models.

3. Instant Model Generation

AI assistants like ChatGPT with code interpreters, or Excel’s new Copilot feature, can now generate model templates (e.g., LBO, DCF) instantly, letting analysts focus on insights rather than formulas.

4. Scenario Analysis and Sensitivity Testing

With AI, you can generate multiple scenarios—best case, worst case, expected case—in seconds. These tools can even flag risks and assumptions automatically.

However, the human role isn't disappearing. Investment bankers are still needed to define model logic, interpret results, evaluate market sentiment, and craft the narrative behind the numbers.

What AI Can’t Do (Yet): The Human Advantage

Despite all the hype, AI still lacks:

Business intuition

Ethical judgment

Client understanding

Strategic communication skills

This means future investment bankers need a hybrid skill set—equally comfortable with financial principles and modern tools.

Essential Financial Modeling Skills for 2025 and Beyond

Here are the most in-demand skills every investment banker needs today:

1. Excel + AI Tool Proficiency

Excel isn’t going anywhere, but it’s getting smarter. Learn to use AI-enhanced functions, dynamic arrays, macros, and Copilot features for rapid modeling.

2. Python and SQL

Python libraries like Pandas, NumPy, and Scikit-learn are used for custom forecasting and data analysis. SQL is crucial for pulling financial data from large databases.

3. Data Visualization

Tools like Power BI, Tableau, and Excel dashboards help communicate results effectively.

4. Valuation Techniques

DCF, LBO, M&A models, and comparable company analysis remain core to investment banking.

5. AI Integration and Prompt Engineering

Knowing how to interact with AI (e.g., writing effective prompts for ChatGPT to generate model logic) is a power skill in 2025.

Why Enroll in an Investment Banking Course in Chennai?

As AI transforms finance, the demand for skilled professionals who can use technology without losing touch with core finance principles is soaring.

If you're based in South India, enrolling in an investment banking course in Chennai can set you on the path to success. Here's why:

✅ Hands-on Training

Courses now include live financial modeling projects, AI-assisted model-building, and exposure to industry-standard tools.

✅ Expert Mentors

Learn from professionals who’ve worked in top global banks, PE firms, and consultancies.

✅ Placement Support

With Chennai growing as a finance and tech hub, top employers are hiring from local programs offering real-world skills.

✅ Industry Relevance

The best courses in Chennai combine finance, analytics, and AI—helping you become job-ready in the modern investment banking world.

Whether you're a student, working professional, or career switcher, investing in the right course today can prepare you for the next decade of finance.

Case Study: Using AI in a DCF Model

Imagine you're evaluating a tech startup for acquisition. Traditionally, you’d:

Download financials

Project revenue growth

Build a 5-year forecast

Calculate terminal value

Discount cash flows

With AI tools:

Financials are extracted via OCR and organized automatically.

Forecast assumptions are suggested based on industry data.

Scenario-based DCF models are generated in minutes.

You spend your time refining assumptions and crafting the investment story.

This is what the future of financial modeling looks like—and why upskilling is critical.

Final Thoughts: Evolve or Be Left Behind

AI isn’t the end of financial modeling—it’s the beginning of a new era. In this future, the best investment bankers are not just Excel wizards—they’re strategic thinkers, storytellers, and tech-powered analysts.

By embracing this change and mastering modern modeling skills, you can future-proof your finance career.

And if you're serious about making that leap, enrolling in an investment banking course in Chennai can provide the training, exposure, and credibility to help you rise in the AI age.

[sku-te]

Chapter 1: An Unscheduled Detour

The argument, like most arguments between Kayleigh Morgan and Grendel Jinx, was fundamentally about property rights. Specifically, the rights to Kayleigh’s decidedly average, five-year-old sedan, a vehicle whose primary features were its reliability and its complete lack of ostentation.

“It is a matter of dire urgency,” Grendel insisted, pacing the length of the penthouse lounge. The room itself was a testament to Grendel’s chaotic taste: priceless antiques stood next to garish anime figurines, and a minimalist Italian sofa was draped in a throw blanket patterned with the face of Dr. Not-Nice, the hyper-violent protagonist of her favourite TV show. “I require high-velocity transport for an essential reconnaissance and acquisition mission.”

Kayleigh didn’t look up from her laptop, where she was fruitlessly trying to debug a piece of code for a personal project. “The last time you had a ‘direly urgent’ mission, you drove my car to three different states to find a specific brand of limited-edition potato chip. You called it ‘Operation Salty Sovereign.’”

“A mission that was a resounding success!” Grendel countered, striking a dramatic pose. “And for your information, this is different. This is about procuring strategically vital… doughnuts.”

Kayleigh sighed, the sound lost in the cavernous room. This was her life now. A former software developer for a failing games company, she’d been blackmailed into the Phoenix Custodians after a terrorist attack leveled half her home city. She was supposed to be a patriot, an agent fighting the good fight against shadowy organizations like The Council of the Unseen. Instead, she felt like a glorified babysitter for the enemy’s daughter.

“Grendel, you have a ten-car garage downstairs, a personal driver, a helicopter on standby, and a weekly allowance of one million dollars. You could buy the doughnut franchise and have them delivered by golden chariot. You don’t need my car.”

“But I want your car,” Grendel whined, her regal demeanor collapsing into childish petulance. “It’s unassuming! It’s… proletarian! It’s the perfect vehicle for blending in. Besides,” she added, her voice turning sly as she produced a folded piece of paper from her pocket, “as per the Friendship Agreement, which you signed and are legally bound to uphold, Article 12, Subsection D clearly states: ‘All vehicular assets belonging to the party of the second part (you) are considered communal property for missions deemed essential by the party of the first part (me).’”

Kayleigh closed her eyes. The blasted Friendship Agreement. She had signed it in a moment of weakness and pity during their first encounter, a mission that was supposed to be a suicide run for her. She’d seen the profound, aching loneliness behind Grendel’s megalomaniacal posturing and had scribbled her name on the ridiculously one-sided document without reading the fine print. It was a mistake she paid for daily.

“My life is not my own,” she muttered, a familiar litany running through her head. Between her indifferent, occasionally harassing boss at the Custodians, her inquisitive personal assistant who seemed to be running her own private intelligence agency, her controlling parents who still demanded to know her weekend plans, and Grendel, every minute of her day felt claimed by someone else.

“Precisely! Your life is our life,” Grendel said cheerfully, misinterpreting the lament. “Now, the keys.” She extended a demanding hand. On a nearby table, a strange object sat amidst the clutter—a dodecahedron of polished, obsidian-like material, covered in swirling silver etchings that seemed to shift when you weren't looking directly at them. It was one of Grendel’s latest ‘acquisitions,’ stolen from a Council vault. She had been fiddling with it all morning. As she gestured for the keys, her hand brushed against the device.

The air hummed. Not with the sound of electricity, but with a deep, resonant tone that seemed to vibrate in Kayleigh’s bones. The silver etchings on the dodecahedron flared with a brilliant, impossible light, casting sharp, dancing shadows across the room.

“What was that?” Kayleigh asked, rising to her feet.

“Ooh, shiny,” Grendel murmured, her attention captured.

The hum intensified into a gut-wrenching thrum. A vortex of searing, colour-drenched light erupted from the device, engulfing them both. Kayleigh felt a horrifying lurch, a sensation of being turned inside out and squeezed through a pinhole. The scent of ozone and burnt sugar filled her nostrils. The opulent lounge, the New Hampshire skyline visible through the panoramic windows, all of it dissolved into a nauseating smear of pure energy. The transition was not a gentle slide; it was a violent, physical expulsion. The world snapped back into focus with a full-body slam against gritty, wet asphalt that knocked the air from her lungs.

Rain. The first thing Kayleigh registered was the cold sting of rain on her face. Then came the sensory overload. The roar of a thousand conversations in a language she didn’t speak, the blare of a J-pop song from a screen the size of a building, the hiss of tires on wet pavement. The air was a humid, oppressive cocktail of exhaust, ramen, damp concrete, and a hundred competing perfumes. Towering, neon-drenched skyscrapers scraped a sky choked with light pollution. She was on the ground, in the middle of a sprawling intersection, and a torrent of humanity was flowing around her as if she were nothing more than an inconvenient pothole.

Grendel, true to form, landed with infuriating grace, executing a practiced combat roll that ended with her on one knee. She surveyed the scene, not with panic, but with the critical eye of a dissatisfied tourist. She fastidiously brushed a piece of damp, discarded chewing gum from the sleeve of her designer jacket.

“Tokyo,” she declared, her fluency in Japanese allowing her to instantly parse the surrounding signs and sounds. “Specifically, Shibuya Crossing. The background detail in the Season Three finale of Dr. Not-Nice Against The World was more accurate than I gave it credit for. They even captured the peculiar scent of desperation and fried squid.”

Kayleigh pushed herself up, her head swimming. Her Custodian training screamed at her to assess the situation. Ambush? Council trap? But this felt different. This felt like a catastrophic error. As she scanned the crowd, her gaze fell upon the giant television screens plastered to the buildings. They were filled with alien commercials, smiling faces, and scrolling text she couldn’t comprehend. The sheer, overwhelming foreignness of it all was suffocating.

Then, the familiar rhythm of impending violence broke the spell. A black van, tires squealing, mounted the curb. Men in black tactical gear, armed with what Kayleigh’s trained eye identified as Heckler & Koch MP5s, spilled out. Their movements were sloppy, their formation disorganized. Amateurs. The crowd, however, reacted with genuine, primal terror, screaming and scattering like frightened pigeons.

Kayleigh’s hand instinctively went to the small of her back, where her service pistol should have been. It wasn’t there. They were unarmed.

But before she could drag Grendel to cover, two blurs of motion intercepted the threat. Girls. They couldn’t have been older than sixteen. One, in a beige school uniform, moved with a joyous, almost dance-like lethality, her red hair a vibrant splash of colour against the grey cityscape. The other, in a traditional blue sailor fuku, was her polar opposite: cold, efficient, her movements economical and precise.

The sharp, clean crack-crack-crack of their pistols cut through the panicked noise. For a split second, Kayleigh’s agent persona took over, clinically analyzing their performance. Flawless trigger control. Perfect target acquisition. No wasted motion. They were more efficient than any Custodian black-ops team she’d ever seen footage of.

Then, the horror of what she was witnessing crashed down on her. They weren’t soldiers. They weren’t agents. They were children. Children in school uniforms, dispatching armed men with the casual proficiency of someone completing a chore. Each shot was a kill shot. There was no hesitation, no mercy, no flicker of doubt. Kayleigh thought of her own training, of the brutal desensitization exercises, of her own stubborn refusal to become a remorseless tool. She remembered the smug look on her examiner's face every time she failed the "Interrogation Exam" because she couldn't bring herself to break a subject psychologically. That failure was her badge of honor. It was proof she hadn't become this.

As quickly as it began, it was over. The girls exchanged a brief, professional nod. An unmarked white van appeared as if summoned, and a new team of uniformed personnel began the cleanup with the detached efficiency of city maintenance workers. They wiped away blood and collected bodies as if they were tidying up litter after a parade. The most chilling part was the crowd. The river of humanity began to flow again, eyes deliberately averted, a collective, unspoken agreement to un-see what had just happened. The system didn’t just kill; it erased.

A wave of nausea and incandescent rage washed over Kayleigh. This wasn’t just killing. This was a state-sanctioned, institutionalized system of assassination, built on the lives of children, and accepted by a populace trained to look away.

“They’re monsters,” she breathed, the words catching in her throat, tasting like bile.

“Monsters are green and have tentacles, and are deathly afraid of high-frequency sonics, according to that film you made me watch,” Grendel corrected, her gaze sharp and analytical. “These are assets. Highly trained, brutally effective assets. The redhead’s spatial awareness is sublime, though her joyful sadism could be a liability. The other one is better. Colder. Reminds me of Mother’s personal guard, though with more flair. Imagine the sheer, unadulterated chaos we could unleash with our own private army of them. We could topple governments before breakfast.”

The casual, callous assessment snapped Kayleigh out of her shock. She whirled on Grendel, her eyes burning with a righteous fire that Grendel had only seen once before—the day Kayleigh had saved her from the explosion in her own tower.

“Is that all you see? Assets? Tools?” Kayleigh’s voice was low, trembling with fury. “They are children, Grendel! Children who have been molded into weapons, conditioned to kill without question. They’re no different from the fanatics my organization fights, or the sociopaths your parents want to enthrone as rulers of the world! They’re victims, trapped in a system that has stolen their childhood and replaced it with a gun!”

She took a step closer, her hands clenched into fists. “Don’t you see? It's the same lie, Grendel! The same twisted belief that a select few have the right to decide who lives and who dies for the 'greater good.' My bosses at the Custodians believe it. Your mother and father have built an empire on it. And whoever runs these girls, whoever built this monstrous system, they believe it too. It's the rot that’s eating our world, and we’ve found a whole new strain of it here.”

Her personal crusade, her quiet rebellion within the Phoenix Custodians, suddenly felt small and futile compared to this. This was the disease in its purest, most horrifying form. A profound sense of purpose, clearer and more urgent than any mission she had ever been assigned, crystallized in her heart.

“The Council can wait. Our way home can wait,” she declared, her voice ringing with newfound conviction. “I am going to burn this system to the ground. The organization that runs them, the people who fund them, the entire philosophy that says a child’s life is a fair price for a quiet street. All of it.”

She locked eyes with Grendel, her expression no longer that of a weary agent, but of a warrior. “I know this isn't world domination. I know it’s not your grand plan. But I can’t do this alone. I’m not a killer. I’m not even a particularly good agent. But you… you're a genius at this. Your skills, your ruthlessness… I need them. Please, Grendel. Help me do something right.”

Grendel was silent, her calculating expression unreadable. This was a deviation of epic proportions. It was idealistic, dangerous, and had no clear path to personal power. By every metric her parents had drilled into her, it was a fool's errand. And yet… Kayleigh’s passion was magnetic. It was real. In that moment, Kayleigh wasn’t her reluctant keeper or her naive ideological opponent. She was her partner. Her ‘best friend.’ And the thought of undertaking a mission of this magnitude, of causing this much systemic chaos together, was a far more intoxicating prospect than any of her own lonely, inept schemes. Her desire for world domination was a long-term ambition; this was immediate, exhilarating anarchy with a purpose.

A slow, dangerous grin, the one she usually reserved for moments of true inspiration, spread across her lips. “Dismantling a clandestine government agency that weaponizes schoolgirls,” she mused, the words rolling off her tongue with relish. “The logistics are a nightmare, the risks are astronomical, and the potential for personal gain is negligible.” Her grin widened into a triumphant smirk. “It’s the most beautifully pointless thing I’ve ever heard. Of course, I’ll help.”

She held up a slender, imperious finger. “However, as your partner in this noble, idiotic venture, certain conditions must be met, as per the Friendship Agreement. Article 7, Subsection B: ‘All grand, society-altering crusades must be pre-approved by the party of the first part (that’s me).’ I hereby grant my approval.”

A fragile wave of relief washed over Kayleigh. “Thank you, Grendel.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Grendel said briskly, already shifting into operational mode. “We have my rules to discuss.”

Kayleigh blinked. “Your rules? I’m the one setting the ethical boundaries here!”

“Precisely. Your ethics are a tactical liability, so they require my strategic oversight,” Grendel explained as if it were obvious. “Rule one: I get to choose our safe houses. I refuse to topple a shadow regime from somewhere with poor water pressure or, heavens forbid, polyester sheets. Rule two: a non-negotiable thirty percent of all acquired funds will be allocated to a wardrobe and accessories budget. We must look fabulous while delivering righteous justice. And rule three…”

“Let me guess,” Kayleigh interrupted, her voice heavy with a resignation she knew all too well. “We get to redesign their uniforms.”

“Black leather,” Grendel confirmed with a decisive nod. “Tasteful, yet intimidating. Spikes are non-negotiable. Now, what was your one, tiny, tedious little rule?”

“No killing,” Kayleigh stated, her voice regaining its iron resolve. “That’s the only rule that matters. We incapacitate. We expose. We do not murder. We will use tranquilizer darts, nothing more. We will not, under any circumstances, become the thing we are fighting.”

Grendel sighed with the dramatic flair of a persecuted queen. “You are determined to make this as difficult as humanly possible. Fighting with non-lethal weapons is like trying to paint a masterpiece with a toothbrush. But…” she gave a resigned shrug, “very well. Article 4, Subsection C of our unbreakable bond: ‘I shall occasionally indulge your bizarre and life-threatening pacifistic whims.’ We’ll play with your tranquilizer toys.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I’m keeping one real bullet in my pocket. Not for them. For me. Just in case I get captured and they try to make me watch a badly dubbed version of Dr. Not-Nice.”

Chapter 2: Ghosts in the Machine

The euphoria of their shared purpose lasted for approximately twelve minutes. It evaporated the moment the adrenaline wore off, replaced by the cold, damp reality of being two undocumented, penniless foreigners in one of the largest, most densely populated cities on Earth. The neon lights of Shibuya, which had seemed so vibrant just moments before, now felt oppressive, each glowing advertisement a spotlight seeking them out.

“First things first,” Kayleigh said, her voice a low murmur as she pulled Grendel into the relative anonymity of a narrow, rain-slicked alleyway. “We need shelter. And resources. We’re ghosts here, which is good for stealth, but bad for… everything else.”

“Shelter? Resources?” Grendel sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the smell of stale ramen and damp cardboard. “Kayleigh, I am the resource. My intellect is our shelter. Observe.”

Before Kayleigh could protest, Grendel strode back out into the street with the unshakeable confidence of a monarch. Her eyes scanned the crowds, not for threats, but for opportunities. It didn’t take long for her to find one: a harried-looking salaryman in an ill-fitting suit, sweating profusely as he was cornered in another alley by two brutish men whose cheap, flashy tracksuits and clumsy tattoos screamed low-level Yakuza.

Kayleigh tensed, ready to intervene, but Grendel waved a dismissive hand, a silent command to wait. She sauntered over, her posture changing from that of a lost tourist to one of bored, untouchable authority.

“Excuse me,” she said in flawless, formal Japanese, her tone dripping with aristocratic disdain. The two thugs turned, their scowls deepening. “I believe you are detaining an asset of my employer. It is a rather… tedious inconvenience.”

The larger of the two thugs took a menacing step forward. “Get lost, little girl. This is business.”

Grendel didn’t flinch. She simply smiled, a chillingly sweet expression that didn’t reach her eyes. “Tanaka-san of the Inagawa-kai would be most displeased to learn his foot soldiers are interfering with the operations of Mr. Nibbles Fortune Holdings. We have a… partnership. A very delicate one. He would be forced to take disciplinary action, and his methods, as I’m sure you’re aware, are so dreadfully permanent.”

The men froze. The name drop, delivered with such casual certainty, had its desired effect. They exchanged a nervous glance. They had no idea who or what Mr. Nibbles Fortune Holdings was, but the implication that a clan leader knew of this foreign girl was enough to sow chaos in their tiny criminal minds. They bowed stiffly, mumbled apologies, and vanished into the night.

The rescued salaryman, looking bewildered, began to stammer his thanks. Grendel cut him off with an upraised hand.

“Your gratitude is noted,” she said, her voice now cold as ice. “However, your carelessness has exposed my organization to unnecessary risk. A security consultation fee is therefore required to ensure this does not happen again. I believe five hundred thousand yen should suffice to cover the administrative costs.” She smiled that terrible smile again. “Please don’t make me file a report. The paperwork is ghastly.”

Minutes later, they were walking away, Grendel nonchalantly counting a thick wad of cash. Kayleigh was speechless.

“You just invented an international incident and then blackmailed the victim,” she finally managed to say.

“I engaged in creative diplomacy,” Grendel corrected. “And I secured our initial operating budget. Now, about that shelter with the acceptable water pressure…”

The shelter Grendel eventually approved was a testament to their limited, ill-gotten funds. It was a tiny, one-room apartment in Shinjuku’s Golden Gai district, tucked away above a noisy yakitori stand. The air was permanently scented with grilled chicken, the floor was tatami mats, and the bathroom was a cramped, plastic module that felt like it belonged on a spaceship.

“It’s… cozy,” Kayleigh offered, trying to be optimistic.

“It’s a hovel,” Grendel declared, prodding a lumpy futon with the toe of her designer boot. “A squalid little box unfit for human habitation. I doubt they even have a dedicated circuit for a proper home cinema system.” She sighed dramatically. “But, the location is discreet and the neighbours seem determined to ignore everything, so it will have to suffice. For now.”

While Grendel set about claiming the single closet for her future wardrobe and complaining about the lack of minions to command, Kayleigh transformed a corner of the room into her workshop. This was her domain. The chaos of their situation faded away when she was faced with a clear technical problem. She began by ‘acquiring’ the necessary tools, using a portion of their funds to order parts online for delivery to a nearby locker, all routed through a web of anonymizing relays she set up on a cheap, second-hand laptop.

Their first priority was weapons. Grendel, in a fit of boredom, had gone out one afternoon and returned with a heavy duffel bag. Inside were three sleek, modern handguns.

“How?” Kayleigh asked, her eyes wide.

“I told a rather dim-witted arms dealer I represented a new faction of hyper-violent European eco-terrorists with an obscene amount of funding,” Grendel explained, examining her nails. “I convinced him we needed samples for quality testing before placing a multi-million-yen order. While he was distracted by my tales of sabotaging oil rigs with weaponized dolphins, I simply walked out with the bag. He was very trusting.”

Kayleigh shook her head, a mixture of horror and grudging admiration warring within her. With the weapons secured, her work began in earnest. With the precision of a watchmaker, she disassembled each pistol. The firing pins, the hammers, the magazine springs—all were carefully removed and stored. She then used a small, quiet 3D printer, its purchase another of Grendel’s dubious financial transactions, to fabricate new components: miniaturized canisters for compressed air, complex valve systems, and new dart-based magazines.

The most crucial element was the sedative. She spent two days researching local chemical supply houses, cross-referencing their inventories with her knowledge of biochemistry. She procured several seemingly innocuous compounds—a potent animal tranquilizer, a rapid-acting muscle relaxant, a stabilizing agent—and carefully mixed them in the tiny bathroom, creating a fast-acting, non-lethal cocktail.

“Are you quite finished with your little arts and crafts project?” Grendel asked, peering over her shoulder. “I’m beginning to fear our enemies will die of old age before you’re done.”

“It has to be perfect,” Kayleigh replied, her focus absolute as she loaded the first translucent dart into a modified magazine. “One mistake, one miscalculation in the dosage, and this stops being a tranquilizer and starts being a poison. We are not killing anyone. That is the point.”

With their non-lethal arsenal complete, the next phase began: intelligence gathering. It was a two-pronged attack. Kayleigh’s battle was fought in the digital realm. She sat cross-legged on the tatami mat for hours on end, her laptop humming, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She was a ghost in the machine, probing the city’s digital infrastructure. She found a backdoor in the Tokyo Metro’s outdated security network, allowing her to tap into their communications. She skimmed police dispatches, flagging reports of unusual violence that were quickly classified or deleted—the digital footprints of Lycoris cleanups. It was painstaking work, like assembling a jigsaw puzzle in the dark.

Grendel’s approach was more direct. She hit the streets, transforming herself into a chameleon. One night, she was a giggling foreign student in a club, buying drinks for low-level gangsters and listening to their drunken boasts. The next, she was a quiet, bookish girl in a café, her ears tuned to the hushed conversations of men who thought they were speaking in code. It was in one such place, a smoky, subterranean izakaya, that she struck gold. Nursing a single glass of plum wine for over an hour, she overheard two men discussing a major upcoming arms shipment—the same type of weapons used in the Shibuya incident. The deal was happening in a disused subway tunnel beneath Shinjuku station.

They moved through the darkness of the maintenance tunnels, the only sounds the drip of water and the distant rumble of trains. The air was cold and thick with the scent of decay and ozone. Kayleigh felt a familiar knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach, the pre-mission jitters she could never quite shake. Grendel, by contrast, looked completely at ease, almost bored, as if strolling through a shopping mall.

They reached a rusted grate overlooking the main tunnel. Below, the deal was going down. Two groups of men stood under the dim emergency lighting, their voices echoing in the cavernous space. Crates of assault rifles were being pried open for inspection.

“Ready?” Kayleigh whispered, her hand gripping the cool polymer of her modified pistol.

“I was born ready,” Grendel murmured. “Try to keep up.”

Kayleigh’s part was first. She slipped away, finding a corroded junction box on the wall. She pulled a small device from her pocket, attaching two magnetic clamps to the terminals. With a deep breath, she pressed a button on her phone. The device sparked violently, and the entire section of the tunnel was plunged into absolute, disorienting darkness, followed by panicked shouts.

That was Grendel’s cue. Kayleigh could hear nothing but the frantic yells and the soft, almost imperceptible puff-puff-puff of Grendel’s pistol. She imagined Grendel as a wraith in the darkness, a fluid dance of non-lethal takedowns.

Suddenly, a figure scrambled up towards her position. A Lycoris agent, a young girl in the blue sailor uniform, moving with silent, trained efficiency. She must have been positioned as overwatch. Kayleigh had no time to think. The girl lunged, a combat knife flashing.

Kayleigh’s Custodian training, brutal and unforgiving, took over. It wasn’t the elegant combat Grendel practiced; it was a desperate, ugly struggle for survival. She blocked the knife thrust with her forearm, the impact sending a jarring shock up her arm. She twisted, using the girl’s momentum against her, and they both tumbled to the ground. The Lycoris was stronger and faster, but Kayleigh was more desperate. She pinned the girl’s knife arm with her legs and brought the butt of her pistol down hard on her wrist. The knife clattered to the floor. Before the girl could recover, Kayleigh pressed the muzzle of her pistol against the girl’s shoulder and fired. The dart sank in, and the Lycoris went limp.

Kayleigh lay there for a second, her heart hammering against her ribs, the metallic tang of fear in her mouth. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing the Lycoris agent's small radio earpiece before dragging two of the heavy weapons crates back into the maintenance tunnel where Grendel was waiting.

“You’re slow,” Grendel commented, not even out of breath.

“I had a complication,” Kayleigh gasped, gesturing to the unconscious forms below as the emergency lights flickered back on, revealing the scene of chaos.

They vanished back into the city’s underbelly. Back in their tiny apartment, the aftermath of the mission settled in. Kayleigh cleaned a long, shallow cut on her forearm, the reality of the violence a stark, burning line on her skin. Grendel, meanwhile, was excitedly trying to pry open one of the rifle crates with a butter knife.

“Imagine the possibilities!” she said, finally succeeding. She lifted out a sleek, black assault rifle, handling it with expert familiarity. “Such a shame we have to ruin them by making them shoot sleeping pills.”

Kayleigh ignored her, her attention focused on her prize: the Lycoris earpiece. It was encrypted, of course, but the firmware was a proprietary DA design. To a software engineer like her, it was a locked door she was born to pick.

“Let’s see who you are,” she muttered, connecting the device to her laptop.

For the next forty-eight hours, she worked relentlessly, fueled by instant coffee and a burning need for answers. Grendel complained of boredom, watched all of Dr. Not-Nice Against The World on her phone, and occasionally provided surprisingly insightful comments on encryption theory. Finally, with a triumphant click, Kayleigh broke through.

She didn’t find much—most of the data was routed through secure servers she couldn't touch. But she found fragments: call signs, mission rosters, and one recurring, unencrypted location tag for a place designated as a ‘non-combat safe zone.’ A café in Chiyoda.

“Café LycoReco,” Kayleigh read from the screen, a grim determination settling on her face.

“LycoReco? That sounds nauseatingly cheerful,” Grendel said, peering at the laptop. “It’s obviously a trap. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“I know,” Kayleigh said. “That’s why we’re going. These girls, they’re not just faceless agents. The one I fought… she was just a kid, Grendel. I need to understand why. I need to talk to them.”

Grendel sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Direct confrontation is tactically foolish. We’d be walking into their kill-box.” She saw the unshakeable resolve in Kayleigh’s eyes and knew it was pointless to argue. She gave a small, resigned shrug. “But,” she added, a flicker of excitement in her own eyes, “it will certainly be more entertaining than sitting in this shoebox. Very well. We shall confront the killer schoolgirls in their natural habitat. But if their coffee is substandard, I am holding you personally responsible.”

Chapter 3: The Devil's Bargain

The frantic energy of their escape from Café LycoReco left a humming silence in its wake. Back in the cramped confines of their apartment, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Kayleigh paced the small space, the worn tatami mat protesting under her feet, her mind replaying the fight in a frustrating loop. It wasn't the violence that bothered her—it was the failure. She had gone there to connect, to plant a seed of truth, but all she had managed to do was trigger a gunfight.

“They wouldn’t listen,” she said, more to herself than to Grendel. “I looked that girl, Takina, in the eyes, and there was nothing there but training. A firewall of pure doctrine.”

Grendel, however, was not concerned with doctrine. She sat perfectly still on her futon, her expression one of deep, simmering fury. She had replayed the fight in her own mind, but her focus was singular.

“She dodged them,” Grendel said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “The redhead. Chisato. She dodged every single dart. It’s not possible.”

“She’s fast, Grendel,” Kayleigh sighed. “They’re clearly highly trained.”

“It’s not speed!” Grendel snapped, rising to her feet. The air in the room seemed to crackle around her. “I’ve fought speed. I’ve trained with the fastest assassins my mother could procure. Speed is predictable. It adheres to the laws of physics. That… that was different. She wasn’t reacting to the dart; she was reacting to my intent. She moved before the air in the pistol had even fully compressed. She was cheating.”

It was the first time Kayleigh had ever seen Grendel genuinely, intellectually rattled. Her pride as a combatant had been deeply wounded. Megalomania could withstand failure, but it could not abide being so thoroughly outclassed.

“I don’t care if she’s cheating,” Kayleigh said, her frustration boiling over. “I care that she’s a child who is going to die in service to a lie. We need a new angle. We need to find a weak point in the system, not just its soldiers.”

“Precisely,” Grendel said, a predatory gleam returning to her eyes. Her anger was already re-forging itself into a plan. “And to find the cheat, we must find the person who designed the game. We’re done chasing the puppets. It’s time to talk to one of the puppet masters.”

Her obsession with Chisato’s ability had given her a new, ferocious focus. Their objective shifted. They would no longer hunt for scraps of data from the DA’s network. They would go directly to the source: the Alan Institute.

Their method was classic espionage, refined by Grendel’s unique brand of ruthlessness. They didn't just need a name; they needed the right name. Kayleigh dove back into the digital world, searching for any data, no matter how trivial, related to the Institute. Grendel, meanwhile, used her formidable intellect to build psychological profiles based on the fragments Kayleigh found. They were looking for the perfect weak link: someone arrogant enough to have access to secrets, but bitter and resentful enough to be willing to betray them.

They found him in Dr. Kenji Tanaka, a senior researcher in the Institute's bio-engineering division. Publicly, he was a respected scientist. Privately, Kayleigh’s hacking uncovered a man deep in debt from a gambling addiction, a man who had been passed over for promotion three times in favour of younger, more brilliant colleagues. He was a powder keg of pride and resentment, just waiting for a spark.

“He’s perfect,” Grendel declared with a shark-like grin. “He wants to feel important. We will make him feel like the most important man in the world. Right before we ruin his life.”

The plan Grendel devised was a masterpiece of manipulation. She created a new persona for herself: “Greta,” a flighty, ridiculously wealthy European art dealer with a burgeoning, eccentric interest in “the art of the human form,” specifically advanced bio-technology. She secured a brief meeting with Dr. Tanaka under the pretence of discussing a philanthropic grant for his department.

The meeting took place in the hushed, opulent lounge of the Park Hyatt Tokyo, a world away from their grimy apartment. Grendel was transformed. Dressed in a stunning couture dress she’d bought with their remaining funds (“A necessary operational expense,” she’d insisted), she looked every bit the part. Kayleigh, meanwhile, sat three tables away, disguised as a tourist, a tiny receiver in her ear, her stomach churning with nerves.

“Dr. Tanaka, a delight!” Grendel began, her voice a symphony of charm and flattery as the nervous researcher sat down. “Your work on cellular regeneration is simply divine. To me, a strand of synthesized DNA has more beauty than any Picasso.”

She let him talk for ten minutes, praising his intellect, laughing at his weak jokes, making him feel like the genius he so desperately believed himself to be. Then, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“The truth is, Doctor,” she whispered, “my interest is not purely artistic. My consortium has… rivals. Rivals who are also very interested in the work of the Alan Institute. In fact, we have reason to believe they have a source on the inside. Someone who has been selling them information. Minor data, of course. Project timelines, budget reports. The sort of thing a man might sell if he found himself in… temporary financial distress.”

The colour drained from Dr. Tanaka’s face. He began to stammer, but Grendel didn't let up.

“My employers are prepared to be very generous to secure your exclusive loyalty,” she continued, her voice turning from silken to steel. “But first, we need a sign of good faith. A gesture to prove you are truly the most valuable asset within the Institute. Tell me something they don’t know. Tell me about your masterpiece. Tell me about Chisato Nishikigi.”

Trapped, terrified, and with his ego simultaneously stroked and threatened, Dr. Tanaka broke. The words came spilling out in a desperate, hushed torrent. He told her everything.

Listening in, Kayleigh felt a cold dread creep up her spine. The researcher confirmed Chisato was the Institute’s greatest success, a prodigy of violence. He admitted Majima was one of their failures, a genius for chaos they had fostered and then abandoned. And then came the final, horrifying revelation.

“The girl’s heart…” Tanaka whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s artificial. A prototype. The first of its kind. And it’s failing. The operational lifespan is nearly at its end. She has maybe two months left.”

Kayleigh’s breath hitched.

“Yoshimatsu-sama has the replacement,” Tanaka continued, oblivious to the impact of his words. “A new, permanent model. Perfected. He carries it with him always. He raised the girl, you see. Loves her like a daughter. But he is a man of principle. He is Alan. He believes a genius must fulfill their purpose. He will only give her the new heart if she finally embraces her gift. If she takes a life. He is forcing her to choose: become a killer, or die.”

The transmission ended. Dr. Tanaka, having given Grendel everything she wanted, practically fled the hotel. Grendel remained seated for a moment, calmly finishing her ridiculously expensive tea.

Back in the apartment, the atmosphere was funereal. The mission had irrevocably changed. It was no longer an abstract crusade against a corrupt system. It was now a rescue mission with a ticking clock, centered on a single girl being subjected to the most sadistic loyalty test imaginable.

“He’ll let her die to prove a point,” Kayleigh whispered, her face pale. The sheer, personal cruelty of it transcended the institutional evil she was used to. This was not the cold logic of the Council or the detached ruthlessness of the Custodians. This was a scalpel of psychological torture aimed at a child’s heart, wielded by the man she saw as her saviour. “Of all the evil I’ve seen… this is the most personal.”

Grendel, for her part, processed the information with cold, strategic clarity. The moral horror was secondary to the tactical opportunity. “So,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “The key to their greatest asset—the girl who defeated me—is a man with a briefcase. Her life, her abilities, her loyalty… it’s all tied to him.” A slow, calculating smile touched her lips. “How delightfully simple. We’re no longer fighting a faceless organization. We’re fighting one man’s monstrous ego.”

The final pieces of the puzzle fell into place over the next few days. Their continued surveillance of DA and criminal communications revealed Majima’s grand plan: to use the new Enkūbilad Tower as a broadcast antenna to expose the Lycoris to the world, inciting city-wide chaos. They also learned that the DA was planning a massive operation to stop him, and that Yoshimatsu, as a VIP sponsor of the tower, would be in attendance at the opening ceremony.

All of their targets would be in one place, at one time.

“This is it,” Kayleigh said, looking at the schematic of the tower she had pulled from the contractor’s servers. “Majima, the DA, Yoshimatsu… they’ll all be there. It’s our only chance.”

“Majima wants to broadcast a secret,” Grendel mused, pacing excitedly. “A fine idea, but his scope is so limited. Why expose only the soldiers, when you can expose the kings, the queens, and the entire corrupt chess board?”

Their own plan was audacious. They would let Majima’s plan proceed, but at the last moment, they would hijack his hijacking. They would use his system to broadcast not just the existence of the Lycoris, but the whole, rotten truth they had uncovered: the Alan Institute’s philosophy, Tanaka’s confession, the audio file of Yoshimatsu’s cruel bargain. They would save Chisato not just by stopping Yoshimatsu, but by destroying the very foundation of the world that was killing her.

The final hours before the operation were a blur of focused activity. Kayleigh finalized the broadcast package, a devastating compilation of data, audio, and documents, compressing it onto a single, encrypted drive. Grendel worked on her own contribution: a compact, powerful EMP device designed to create a momentary electronic blackout. They cleaned their pistols, loaded fresh tranquilizer darts, and reviewed the tower’s blueprints until they had memorized every corridor and ventilation shaft.

As night fell, they stood by the window of their small apartment, looking out at the glittering Tokyo skyline. In the distance, the Enkūbilad Tower stood tall and proud, a beacon of light, utterly oblivious to the storm that was about to break over it.

“Nervous?” Grendel asked, her tone unusually devoid of mockery.

“Terrified,” Kayleigh admitted. “But for the first time since I was forced into this life, I feel like I’m fighting the right battle.”

Grendel nodded, her eyes fixed on the tower. “Indeed. World domination can wait. Tonight, we engage in a spot of large-scale, therapeutic deconstruction.”

Chapter 4: The Tower and the Truth

The Enkūbilad Tower was a monument to a peaceful, orderly Japan, a gleaming spear of glass and steel thrust into the sky. Tonight, that peace was a lie, and the tower was a warzone. The chaos of Majima’s opening salvo—a series of small, coordinated explosions that caused panic but minimal casualties—was the perfect cover. While the tower’s security and the first wave of DA response focused on the main entrances, Kayleigh and Grendel slipped through a service loading bay, its electronic lock easily bypassed by Kayleigh’s laptop.

The inside was a surreal landscape of intermittent violence. The pristine, white corridors were littered with shell casings and the occasional unconscious body of a terrorist or security guard. Alarms blared in a frantic, rhythmic pulse. They moved upwards, taking service stairs and maintenance elevators, a two-woman ghost unit navigating a three-way battle. They were impartial in their non-lethal efficiency, incapacitating Majima’s green-clad goons and the DA’s dark-suited Lycoris agents with the same silent puffs from their pistols.

Grendel moved with a predator’s grace, her takedowns a fluid, almost artistic expression of violence. She would slide into a room, her tranquilizer pistol dispatching three targets in as many seconds, before melting back into the shadows. Kayleigh’s movements were more functional, her Custodian training showing in the way she used cover, methodically clearing corners, her shots deliberate and precise.

On the 47th floor, they came upon an unfolding execution. Three Lycoris agents had a group of Majima’s men pinned down behind a large, overturned planter. The terrorists were out of ammunition, cornered and helpless. The Lycoris were advancing slowly, their pistols raised, ready to deliver the final, lethal shots.

“Three targets, easy work,” Grendel whispered, raising her pistol. “We neutralize them all and keep moving.”

“No,” Kayleigh countered, her voice sharp. “Their job is murder. We stop that, too. Always. Cover me.”

Before Grendel could argue, Kayleigh broke cover, firing two quick shots not at the Lycoris, but at the large plate-glass window behind them. The window fractured with a deafening crack, causing the agents to flinch instinctively. In that split second of distraction, Grendel, rolling her eyes with theatrical annoyance but following the plan perfectly, fired three tranquilizer darts. The Lycoris agents crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The disarmed terrorists stared, bewildered.

“Stay down if you want to live,” Kayleigh ordered them in harsh Japanese, before pulling Grendel along.

“That was needlessly complicated,” Grendel complained as they hurried towards the next stairwell. “They’re soldiers, Kayleigh. That was their objective.”

“It doesn’t make it right,” Kayleigh shot back. “They’re still accountable.”

They found Majima in the wreckage of the Starlight Sky Lounge. The panoramic windows were shattered, offering a dizzying view of the city lights below, a view now marred by plumes of smoke. He stood before a bank of hijacked broadcast equipment, a manic grin plastered on his face as he prepared his grand revelation.

“The uninvited guests!” he cackled as they entered. “The ghosts who shoot sleeping pills. I must admit, I’m fascinated. You have the talent for chaos, the skill to disrupt. Why do you hold back? Why tickle the system when you could be burning it to the ground with me?” He spread his arms wide. “Join me! Together we’ll give this city a real fireworks show, a true balancing of the scales!”

Kayleigh kept her pistol trained on him. “You’re not balancing anything, Majima. You’re just another terrorist, creating more victims to justify your own pain.”

Grendel stepped forward, a look of profound pity on her face. “Balance,” she scoffed, the word an insult on her tongue. “Balance is a fantasy for the weak, a concept invented by people who lack the will to win. True power isn’t about leveling the board; it’s about owning it. You’re just a vandal smashing the chess pieces. I,” she declared, her voice ringing with the absolute certainty of her Unseen upbringing, “am a Queen. Your vision is pathetically small.”

The philosophical debate was cut short as Majima lunged, his movements a blur of wild, unpredictable ferocity. The fight was a clash of chaotic ideologies. Majima was all raw, explosive energy; Grendel was a whip of controlled, precise force. She didn’t meet his wild swings but flowed around them, her tranquilizer pistol puffing in the tight spaces between his attacks. It was his raw power versus her perfect technique, and in the end, technique won. A dart found its mark in his neck, and Majima, the great balancer, collapsed into a heap, his revolution ending in a quiet nap.

With Majima neutralized, they raced for the summit. The sounds of a desperate confrontation echoed down the final stairwell. They burst onto the observation deck to a scene of unbearable tension. Chisato stood trembling, her pistol wavering. Yoshimatsu Shinji, her mentor and tormentor, stood before her, a gun pressed to his own head, his face a mask of loving, fanatic devotion.

“Do it, Chisato!” Yoshimatsu pleaded, his voice resonating with twisted affection. “I gave you life. I gave you a gift from the Alan Institute that makes you a god among these mortals. Don’t spit on that gift. Don’t spit on my love for you! Show me you understand. Fulfill your purpose!”

Takina, held at bay by Yoshimatsu’s silent bodyguard, Himegama, shouted, “Chisato, don’t listen to them!” Her eyes darted to Kayleigh and Grendel. “You two! You came here to destroy us, to see us all dead!”

“No!” Kayleigh’s voice cut through the air, sharp and clear. She advanced into the open, her own pistol lowered to show she was not a threat. “I don’t want you dead. I want you to have a life!”

She took another step, her gaze locked on Chisato, but her words were for all of them. “But you can’t just walk away from what you’ve done. You are children, and you have been victimized by a monstrous system.” Her voice hardened, filled with an unshakeable, grim conviction. “But that doesn't absolve you of your crimes. What you've done, the people you've killed… it was wrong. But the answer isn’t another bullet in another body. The answer is justice.”

She looked from a stunned Takina to a conflicted Chisato. “At worst, it’s a jail cell. At best, it's a long, hard road of rehabilitation, of therapy, of learning how to be something other than a weapon. I’m not fighting to destroy you. I’m fighting to give you that chance—the chance to face what you’ve done and build a real future. To choose who you want to be. Don’t let him make that choice for you.”

As Yoshimatsu’s face contorted in fury at this intrusion, Grendel, who had been silently moving into position, made her move. With a theatrical flourish, she triggered her EMP. The tower's primary lights flickered and died, plunging the deck into the eerie glow of the emergency strobes. In the disorienting pulse, she fired. The tranquilizer dart, aimed with impossible precision, ricocheted off a steel ceiling support and embedded itself squarely in Himegama’s neck. The bodyguard collapsed without a sound.

Enraged at his plan being torn apart, Yoshimatsu shifted his aim from his own head towards the unarmed Kayleigh.

But Kayleigh’s words had found their mark. The lie was broken. Chisato, her face a mask of anguish and dawning resolve, finally fired. Not a lethal round. Not at his heart. A red, rubber-tipped bullet struck Yoshimatsu’s wrist with brutal, bone-jarring force. His gun clattered uselessly across the marble floor.

It was over.

Before the newly arrived DA agents could process the scene, Kayleigh was at Majima’s broadcast terminal. She slammed the encrypted drive into the port and, with a final, determined keystroke, hit ‘Enter.’

The effect was instantaneous. Every screen in the tower, every news broadcast, every phone receiving a signal in Tokyo flickered. The slick advertisements and panicked news reports were replaced by the cold, hard truth: internal DA documents, mission rosters filled with children’s names, the terrified, audio-only confession of Dr. Tanaka, and the schematics for an artificial heart. The secret history of the Lycoris, the Alan Institute, and Yoshimatsu’s demonic bargain flooded the world.

The stunned silence on the rooftop was absolute. The DA commander stared at the screens, his face ashen. Takina looked at Chisato not with anger, but with a dawning, confused understanding. Yoshimatsu, cradling his broken wrist, looked at Chisato with the eyes of a god whose creation had just committed heresy.

And in the middle of the deck, the air began to shimmer. The scent of ozone and burnt sugar filled the air. Their exit had arrived.

Kayleigh backed away from the console, her job done. She looked at Grendel, whose face held a rare expression of genuine, unadulterated satisfaction. They had won. It was a messy, complicated victory, but it was real.

As she stepped towards the shimmering portal, Kayleigh allowed herself one last look. She saw the hard road ahead for these girls—investigations, trials, the difficult work of healing. She hadn't given them an easy future, but she had given them a future. That had to be enough.

“Well,” Grendel said, breaking the silence as they stood before their exit. “That was a moderately successful, if dreadfully non-profitable, philanthropic endeavor. I suppose I can add ‘dismantler of secret societies’ to my list of accomplishments.” She glanced at Kayleigh, and the usual mockery in her tone was absent, replaced by something that sounded almost like pride. “Your methods are inefficient, sentimental, and frankly, bizarre. But,” she conceded, “the results are… not without a certain flair.”

Kayleigh managed a real, exhausted smile. “Let’s go home, Grendel.”

“Indeed,” Grendel said, turning for the portal. “And don’t think for a moment this changes anything. The Friendship Agreement still clearly stipulates my right to your personal assets. Your car is still mine the moment we get back.”

Together, they stepped into the light, leaving behind a world they had irrevocably changed, ready to face the familiar chaos of their own. Their mission in Japan was over, but the strange, impossible partnership of Kayleigh Morgan and Grendel Jinx had just been forged in the crucible of fire and principle.

[qdesq-workspace]

How Gachibowli Coworking Spaces Help Startups Scale Up

In India’s ever-evolving startup ecosystem, location, flexibility, and community often determine the trajectory of a company. Hyderabad, with its robust tech infrastructure, has emerged as a top destination for ambitious startups. Among its many business-friendly neighborhoods, Gachibowli stands tall with its global tech presence, easy connectivity, and modern workspaces. For founders and early-stage teams looking to scale, choosing a Coworking space in Gachibowli is often the smartest first step on the path to long-term growth.

Let’s explore how Gachibowli's coworking scene is engineered to support businesses at every stage—from ideation and product-market fit to funding rounds and scale-up success.

Why Gachibowli is a Growth Magnet for Startups

Startups thrive in environments that offer proximity to customers, skilled talent, accelerators, and infrastructure. Gachibowli checks all those boxes:

Home to IT giants: Microsoft, Amazon, Capgemini, Accenture, and TCS all have major operations here.

Excellent metro and road access: Whether you live in Jubilee Hills, HITEC City, or beyond, Gachibowli is easily accessible.

Proximity to universities and research hubs: IIIT-Hyderabad and ISB feed the ecosystem with talent and innovation.

Thriving startup network: Co-located businesses, VCs, legal consultants, and freelancers make it easy to build a support system.

Coworking spaces here are not just desks and Wi-Fi—they are platforms that fuel innovation and scalability.

The Startup Journey: How Coworking Spaces Fuel Each Stage of Growth

Every startup passes through stages—ideation, validation, MVP, customer acquisition, and then expansion. Let’s break down how Gachibowli coworking spaces support these milestones.

1. Ideation and Bootstrapping

At this stage, the team is small—often just the founders. Money is tight. You need a place to work that doesn't cost a fortune, but still feels professional.

How coworking helps:

Affordable hot desks and day passes

Access to shared amenities (printers, coffee, high-speed internet)

Event spaces for brainstorming and meetups

Networking with fellow entrepreneurs, which sparks ideas and opportunities

Coworking spaces like iKeva Gachibowli or Awfis Western Aqua are tailored to meet these needs. They offer no-lock-in plans, founder-friendly pricing, and the flexibility to work as and when needed.

2. Building the MVP (Minimum Viable Product)

Now, you're coding, prototyping, testing. You may need a private office to focus or invite potential customers for demos.

How coworking helps:

Private cabins for 2–5 people

On-demand meeting rooms for presentations

Soundproof phone booths for investor calls

Round-the-clock access for those late-night sprints

Spaces like Smartworks and WeWork in Gachibowli provide full-stack facilities that let you focus on your product, not office logistics.

3. Customer Acquisition and Validation

Your MVP is ready. You're onboarding early customers. Team size may grow to 5–10. Professionalism, punctuality, and proximity to clients become critical.

How coworking helps:

Located near client HQs for quick access

Professional front-desk support and business address

Brand signage options (available in some premium spaces)

High-speed internet with zero downtime

Many coworking spaces are within 500 meters of Microsoft, Amazon, and Deloitte—letting you “walk to pitch” in less than 5 minutes.

4. Team Expansion and Operational Scaling

This is the scale-up phase. You’re hiring developers, salespeople, HR, and finance support. Infrastructure must keep up.

How coworking helps:

Customizable office layouts for 10+ teams

IT support, admin staff, reception, and mail handling

Dedicated zones for HR interviews, team huddles, and events

Business continuity solutions and scalable security

Gachibowli’s enterprise-grade coworking centers, such as TableSpace or Smartworks, allow growing teams to expand instantly—without breaking leases or relocating.

5. Investor Meetings and Growth Showcases

Once you've raised a round or are pitching for funding, presentation matters. A coffee shop won’t cut it. You need access to boardrooms, professional ambiance, and sometimes even temporary event space.

How coworking helps:

AV-equipped boardrooms for investor meetings

Flexible spaces for demo days, product launches

Access to pitch sessions and VC networking through coworking community events

Many spaces also partner with incubators and accelerators, giving startups more than just a desk—they offer growth direction and mentorship.

5 Gachibowli Coworking Spaces Supporting Scale-Up Startups

Here are five well-regarded coworking spaces in Gachibowli known for helping startups scale:

1. WeWork Krishe Emerald

Best For: Funded startups and fast-growing teams

Key Perks: Large private suites, modern lounges, and community-building events

2. iKeva Gachibowli

Best For: Early-stage bootstrapped teams

Key Perks: Mentorship access, pay-as-you-go options, and community managers

3. Smartworks Gachibowli

Best For: Mid-size startups scaling headcount

Key Perks: Fully managed enterprise spaces, security, and expansion flexibility

4. Awfis Western Aqua

Best For: Consultants and lean remote teams

Key Perks: Day passes, virtual office plans, and meeting room credits

5. The Office Pass (TOP)

Best For: Founders focused on privacy and deep work

Key Perks: Minimal distractions, walkable distance to tech campuses, and budget pricing

Community: The Secret Ingredient to Scaling

One underrated advantage of coworking in Gachibowli is the sense of community. Unlike isolated offices, here you’re:

Sharing space with other ambitious founders

Bumping into potential collaborators or beta users

Getting invited to tech talks, pitch nights, or product showcases

The network effect inside a coworking environment can't be overstated. Many startup partnerships, investments, and hires happen over coffee at the common pantry.

Real-Life Success Story: From Desk to Dominance

Take the example of a SaaS startup that began in a small two-desk corner in iKeva Gachibowli. Within 18 months:

They validated their product with clients in nearby tech parks

Hired five new team members using the coworking center’s HR contacts

Closed a seed round in the WeWork boardroom with an investor they met at a community event

Moved to a 15-desk private cabin without switching location

This wouldn’t be possible with a rigid traditional lease. The flexibility and ecosystem support of Gachibowli coworking played a key role in their growth.

Final Thoughts

The road from startup to scale-up isn’t easy—but the environment you choose plays a pivotal role. Coworking spaces in Gachibowli are designed with growth in mind: flexible, resource-rich, and immersed in the heart of Hyderabad’s tech action. From helping you stay lean in your early months to providing enterprise-grade infrastructure as you expand, these spaces adapt to your journey.

So whether you're writing your first line of code, pitching to a VC, or onboarding your 50th employee, choosing the right Coworking space in Gachibowli, Hyderabad could be the best decision you make for your business.

[jack-larry]

Top 7 Reasons Your Business Needs Professional Payroll Services – Ignite HCM

Top 7 Reasons Your Company Needs Professional Payroll Services – Ignite HCM

Payroll is one of the most critical, yet time-consuming, business functions. Between keeping up with tax compliance and paying employees accurately and on time, payroll can become overwhelming quickly—especially as your company grows. That's where professional payroll services like Ignite HCM come to the rescue.

Ignite HCM specializes in delivering efficient, reliable, and tailored payroll services that suit businesses of any magnitude. If you are considering outsourcing your payroll, the subsequent seven points explain why Ignite HCM could be a perfect fit for your business.

1. Ensure Accuracy and Timeliness

Accuracy is one of the biggest payroll processing challenges. Even a small error in calculating hours, taxes, or deductions can lead to employee disgruntlement, penalties, or lawsuits. Ignite HCM utilizes the latest payroll software and experienced professionals to ensure that every payroll run is accurate and timely.

Their platform also calculates wages, taxes, and benefits automatically, minimizing errors. This means your staff receive their pay correctly and on time—every time—promoting trust and enhancing morale.

2. Stay Compliant with Ever-Changing Regulations

Payroll compliance is complex. Federal, state, and local tax laws are constantly evolving, and staying on top of them can be a full-time task. Mistakes or overlooked deadlines can result in costly penalties and legal problems.

Ignite HCM's payroll services are up to date on all the relevant tax codes and labor laws. Their experts handle filings, manage tax deposits, and stay on top of the latest regulations. This significantly reduces your business's risk and spares you from unnecessary penalties.

3. Save Time and Increase Efficiency

In-house payroll processing is labor-intensive, especially for small and medium-sized businesses with limited HR staff. It requires hours per pay period to manually record hours, calculate deductions, and remit taxes.

Using Ignite HCM, you can automate the majority of these tasks. Their cloud-based payroll solutions make the entire process easy so that you can run payroll in a few simple clicks. This will provide time to your HR team to focus on more strategic functions such as talent acquisition and employee engagement.

4. Secure Employee Data with Confidence

Payroll contains confidential employee data, including Social Security numbers, bank account information, and salary details. It is essential to keep this data secure to protect your business and maintain employees' trust.

Ignite HCM employs the newest security protocols to ensure all payroll data remains secure. Their systems are encrypted and continuously updated to prevent intrusion and unauthorized access. They also offer secure employee self-service portals, where employees can access pay stubs and tax documents safely.

5. Access to Expert Support

In-house payroll processing typically means relying on one or two people to do it all—with no allowance for expert support or consultation if problems arise. Whether you need an answer to a tax deduction question or a last-minute payroll change, you require the answers fast.

Ignite HCM provides you with a team of certified payroll professionals who are just a phone call or email away from you. Their one-on-one customer service ensures that you receive expert help when you require it. You're never alone, either when processing a standard payroll cycle or when you're handling a challenging problem.

6. Scalable Solutions to Match Your Growth

As your company grows, so does the complexity of your payroll. More employees, new benefits plans, multi-state operations—all these can increase the complexity of payroll processing.

Ignite HCM offers scalable payroll solutions that increase as your business increases. Their systems are designed to accommodate increasing needs from 10 to 1,000 employees without missing a beat. You can even add services like HR management, benefits administration, and time tracking as your needs increase.

7. Long-Term Cost Savings

While outsourcing payroll may seem like an extra expense, it actually costs businesses less. Add up the indirect expenses of in-house payroll: software licenses, employee training, regulatory penalties, and the time lost to manual processing.

With Ignite HCM, you receive a guaranteed monthly rate, cutting-edge technology, and the expertise of payroll professionals—without in-house overhead. By conserving time, reducing risk, and avoiding errors, professional payroll services provide excellent ROI.

Why Ignite HCM?

Ignite HCM is more than just another payroll provider—they're a partner in business success. Here's what sets them apart:

Tailored Solutions: Ignite HCM customizes their services to your particular business needs.

Industry Expertise: Their personnel are acquainted with the complexities of payroll for various industries.

Advanced Technology: Payroll has never been easier with their user-friendly platforms and mobile functionality.

Comprehensive Services: Ignite HCM offers full HR and HCM solutions outside of payroll.

Final Thoughts

Payroll is a critical function that directly impacts your business’s compliance, employee satisfaction, and financial stability. While it may be tempting to manage payroll in-house, the potential for errors, time drain, and compliance risks make it a smart move to outsource this responsibility.

By partnering with a reliable provider like Ignite HCM, you enjoy the rewards of accuracy, security, efficiency, and peace of mind. Their professional payroll services enable you to do what you do best—grow your business.

If you're ready to simplify your payroll process and thrive in the long run, it's time to find out what Ignite HCM can do for your business.

Would you like me to provide a shorter version for LinkedIn or email marketing? I can also SEO optimize or format it for WordPress.

For more info please visit us (301) 674-8033 or sales@IgniteHCM.com

[techspark1]

How to Market a Hyperlocal Delivery App: Post-Launch Strategies for Startups

Launching a hyperlocal delivery app is just the beginning. You’ve got the app live on the Play Store and App Store, your team’s excited, and the first few orders are trickling in. But here’s the hard truth—without a solid marketing strategy post-launch, your app risks fading into the background, no matter how good it is. It’s like throwing a great party but forgetting to send out the invitations.

For startups, this challenge feels even more real. You’ve probably stretched your budget to get the app built, and now you’re facing the uphill task of getting users on board, building trust, and carving out your space in a crowded market. The good news? With the right marketing approach, you can break through the noise, create buzz, and grow your user base steadily.

Let’s dive into practical, real-world strategies to market your hyperlocal delivery app effectively after launch.

Start Small, Think Local

Hyperlocal means local. Your target audience isn’t “everyone in India” or “all smartphone users.” It’s the folks living within a specific delivery radius. Focus your initial marketing efforts on a narrow area—maybe a few key neighborhoods in your city where you can guarantee top-notch service.

Use geotargeted ads on platforms like Facebook and Instagram to reach people in that zone. Partner with local businesses—cafes, grocery stores, florists—to offer exclusive discounts. Sponsor a community event or a local sports team. These small moves build local trust, and word-of-mouth can spread faster than you think.

Leverage Local Influencers

Forget big-name influencers with a million followers. For a hyperlocal app, it’s all about micro-influencers—those with 5K to 50K followers who have real engagement within their community.

For example, if you’re targeting a specific area, look for creators who post content about the local food scene, fitness, or lifestyle in that area. Offer them a free trial, a special discount code, or an incentive to share their experience. These authentic, local endorsements can drive serious traction because they speak directly to your audience.

Craft Content That Connects

Content marketing isn’t just for SaaS blogs. For your hyperlocal app, it’s a crucial way to build brand identity and stay top of mind. Share stories about your delivery partners—how the extra income helps them support their families. Highlight your top local vendors. Showcase customer moments, like how a last-minute cake delivery saved someone’s birthday.

This emotional connection transforms your app from just a service into a trusted part of your users’ daily lives. You’re not just delivering groceries; you’re delivering convenience, happiness, and sometimes even peace of mind.

For inspiration on building a hyperlocal delivery app, you can check out the insights shared in the Top 5 Mistakes Startups Make When Building a Dunzo Clone blog. It offers practical advice on what to avoid when creating a clone app and can help you shape a better product-market fit.

Offer First-Time User Incentives

Let’s be honest—users love a good deal. Offering incentives like free delivery on the first order, cashback rewards, or a discount for early adopters can make a huge difference in conversion rates. It’s the nudge that pushes someone from “Hmm, maybe I’ll try it later” to “Why not order now?”

But remember, it’s not just about the deal—it’s about how you communicate it. Don’t make it sound like just another discount. Frame it as a welcome gift for new users, a way to say “Thank you for giving us a shot.” This subtle shift in messaging can impact how your audience perceives your brand.

Build for Retention, Not Just Acquisition

Getting downloads is one thing. Keeping users is another. The real growth happens when users keep coming back, week after week.

So, how do you retain them? Start by making sure your app experience is smooth—no glitches, no crashes, and fast delivery times. Then, introduce loyalty programs, personalized offers, and notifications that feel helpful, not spammy. If a user regularly orders groceries on Fridays, why not send a reminder or a small discount offer on Thursday?

Retention-focused marketing is what separates a one-hit-wonder app from a long-term success story.

Final Thoughts

Marketing a hyperlocal delivery app post-launch isn’t about flashy campaigns or huge budgets. It’s about building community, offering real value, and telling stories that resonate. It’s about starting local, staying relevant, and adapting as you grow.

And if you’re wondering how to create a hyperlocal delivery app that’s built to scale, fast, and user-friendly, Miracuves is here to help. We specialize in crafting high-performance app clones tailored for entrepreneurs and startups who want to make a real impact. Whether you’re inspired by the Dunzo clone model or have a unique idea of your own, we’ll help you turn that vision into reality.

[marketingprofitmedia]

Conversly AI Review – Launch Your Own AI Coaching Business Today With Conversly

Welcome to my Conversly AI Review. Right now, many individuals are motivated to learn new languages due to the career, travel, or personal benefits, making language learning very popular. Scaling is a problem for traditional language schools, and while widely used apps like Duolingo are successful, they do not allow entrepreneurs to be coached personally.

Conversly AI, a cutting-edge platform, emerged to enable anyone to launch a language coaching service comparable to Duolingo, even without any prior expertise. Conversely, AI aims to support users who want to coach thousands of students in any language and monetize their skill by paying only $49 each month, no matter their tech or teaching background.

In this review, we will go over the key points, benefits, price, how the system operates, who should try it out, good and bad aspects, and why it could be ideal for anyone looking to become a language coach or entrepreneur. Don’t miss your chance.

What Is Conversly AI?

Conversly AI is a cutting-edge AI-powered platform that enables users to create their own Duolingo-style language learning business with ease. Designed for educators, entrepreneurs, and digital marketers, this no-code app allows you to coach thousands of students in any language of your choice while charging them a recurring monthly fee, typically $49 or more.

The platform utilizes advanced artificial intelligence to simulate real-time voice conversations with learners, making the language acquisition process interactive, engaging, and highly effective. From building customized courses and quizzes to integrating gamified learning experiences and AI voice coaching, Conversly AI offers a complete, plug-and-play solution for launching a full-fledged language education business online in just minutes.

Conversly AI Review: Overview of Product

Product Creator: Vijay Pratap Singh

Product: Conversly AI

Launch Date: 2025-May-24

Launch Time: 10:00 EDT

Front-End Price: $14.97 One-Time Fee! (Lifetime Access)

Official Site: Click Here To Visit Official Salespage

Product Type: Tools and Software

Support: Effective and Friendly Response

Recommended: Highly Recommended

Bonuses: YES, Huge Bonuses

Skill Level Required: All Levels

Discount Coupon: Use Code “CONADMIN” for $5 Off Full Funnel

Refund: YES, 30 Days Money-Back Guarantee

>>> Click Here to Get Instant Access Conversly AI with Exclusive Bonuses <<<

Conversly AI Review: Key Features of Conversly AI

✍ Launch Your Own Duolingo In 3 Clicks Flat

No coding. No content. No stress. Just pick a language… choose your AI avatar… set your price… and boom your language coaching business is live. No more wasting weeks “figuring it out.” Conversly does it all before you even finish your coffee.

✍ Your AI Avatar Does ALL The Coaching For You

This isn’t a chatbot. It’s a full-blown AI-powered language coach. It speaks fluently, listens like a human, responds instantly, and handles 100% of the teaching in real-time. You never have to talk, teach, or even know what language your business is selling.

✍ Teaches 99+ Languages Even If You Don’t Speak A Single One

Spanish? French? Hindi? Arabic? Japanese? It doesn’t matter if you’re monolingual your AI speaks over 99 languages fluently. You can sell programs in ANY of them, instantly.

✍ Fully Hosted, Fully Branded Landing Page Included

No need to build a site. No design tools. No WordPress, ClickFunnels, or any of that mess. We host it. We build it. You brand it. Just tweak a few lines, add your name, and start sending traffic. It’s that simple.

✍ Your Avatar Talks To Students 24/7 While You Sleep

You don’t take calls. You don’t answer messages. You don’t show up. Your AI avatar does all the talking, all the coaching, all the engagement even while you’re out living your life. It never gets tired, never gets sick, and never stops selling fluency.

✍ Set Your Price, Keep 100% Of The Profit

Want to charge $47/month? $199 one-time? $7 trials? Go for it. There are no limits, no commissions, and no platforms taking a cut. You keep every dollar. Every lead. Every customer.

✍ Built-In Lead Collection So You Grow While You Sell

Conversly doesn’t just make you money. It builds your list, too. Popups, sticky bars, on-load opt-ins, and lead magnet support are all baked in. Every visitor, every click, every signup captured, tagged, and yours forever.

✍ One-Click Integration with Your Favorite Autoresponders

Mailchimp. ConvertKit. GetResponse. Doesn’t matter. Plug in your email platform in seconds and build a high-converting list while your AI handles the students. Automate your follow-up and upsells without touching a thing.

✍ Customizable AI Avatars That Sell Like Celebrities

Choose a pre-built avatar or upload your own face and voice. Give it a name. Give it a personality. Make it sound like you, or anyone you want. Now you’ve got a coach that builds trust, talks like a pro, and never charges by the hour.

✍ Real-Time Conversation, Not Flashcards And Guesswork

No quizzes. No boring lessons. Just immersive, back-and-forth dialogue with an AI that speaks like a native. Students finally get what other platforms failed to deliver actual fluency.

✍ Launch Today. Sell Forever. Scale without Limits.

You set it up once. That’s it. No recurring work. No new lessons to upload. No live calls to host. And you can sell to 10, 100, or 10,000 students at once without hiring anyone.

✍ Fully Automated Sales Machine Built Right In

Your page is optimized. Your funnel is ready. Your system is live. Conversly is pre-built with everything you need to convert visitors into customers automatically. Just flip the switch, and let it run.

✍ No Monthly Fees. No Hidden Costs. No Catch

You pay once. You own it. That’s it. No subscriptions, no API charges, no extra upgrades. This is your platform, with unlimited usage, forever.

✍ 30-Day Money-Back Guarantee – Risk-Free Access to a Business That Prints Cash

Try Conversly AI for 30 days, completely risk-free. If you don’t love it, get every penny back no questions asked. But once you see how AI builds and sells websites on autopilot, you’ll never want to let it go.

Conversly AI Review: How Does It Work?

Launch Your Own AI-Powered Duolingo-Like Platform In Just 3 Simple Steps

Step #1: Pick Your Language(s)

Choose from 99+ global languages like Spanish, French, Hindi, Arabic, German, and more. You don’t need to speak any of them your AI avatar will handle everything.

Step #2: Set Up Your AI Coach

Choose a ready-made avatar (or upload your own photo + voice).

Step #3: Share Your Link & Get Paid

Conversly instantly creates a hosted landing page for you. Collect leads, take payments, and watch your AI coach do the work, while you keep 100% of the profits.

Conversly AI Review: Benefits of Conversly AI

✍ Your AI Avatar = 24/7 Language Coach

Never sleeps. Never cancels. Never needs a break.

✍ Teaches In 99+ Languages

Spanish, French, Hindi, German, Arabic, and more even if you don’t speak a word.

✍ Launch In Just 3 Clicks

Pick a language. Choose an avatar. Set your price. Done.

✍ You Set The Price. You Keep 100%

Charge $49/month… $199 lifetime… or whatever you want. It’s your platform.

✍ Fully Hosted For You

No websites to build. No tools to install. Just customize your page and go live.

✍ Auto Lead Collection + Email Integration

Connect your autoresponder and capture leads automatically on sign-up.

✍ Built-In Conversion Boosters

Sticky bars, popups, opt-in forms… All included to help you grow your list and close sales.

✍ Zero Tech. Zero Teaching. Zero Stress.

You don’t need to show your face, speak a language, or manage anything.

✍ Global Reach From Day One

Your avatar can talk to thousands of students worldwide 24/7.

✍ Real Conversation Practice, Not Just Vocabulary

Your avatar talks, listens, and responds just like a real tutor.

✍ Built To Boost Fluency Fast

Immersive AI coaching that actually helps students speak with confidence.

✍ Passive Income On Repeat

Set it up once… and earn month after month without lifting a finger.

✍ No Zoom Calls, No Lesson Plans

No scheduling. No burnout. No need to “go live” ever.

✍ Fully Customizable Coaching Platform

Change the language, pricing, branding, and avatar anytime it’s your business.

Conversly AI Review: Who Should Use It?

Affiliate Marketers

CPA Marketers

Blog Owners

Digital Agencies

Freelancers

Entrepreneurs

Product Creators

Web Developers & Designers

Product Creators

eCom Store Owners

Local Business Owners

Make Money Online

Works For Anyone

Conversly AI Review: OTO’s And Pricing

Front-End (FE): Conversly AI ($14.97)

OTO 1: Conversly AI Unlimited

Unlimited Gold: ($37)

Unlimited Lite: ($47)

OTO 2: Conversly AI DFY

DFY Gold: ($67)

DFY Lite: ($97)

OTO 3: Traffic Booster ($47)

OTO 4: Conversly AI Agency

Agency 100: ($97)

Agency Unlimited: ($147)

OTO 5: Conversly AI Reseller

Reseller 100 Licenses: ($97)

Reseller Unlimited Licenses: ($147)

OTO 6: Conversly AI Whitelabel

Whitelabel Lite: ($297)

Whitelabel Gold: ($497)

>>> Click Here to Get Instant Access Conversly AI with Exclusive Bonuses <<<

Conversly AI Review: Money Back Guarantee

Try Our 30 Days Iron Clad Money Back Guarantee

Conversely AI isn’t the kind of app you find made by amateurs. We recognise the power of A.I. But if, for any reason, you find yourself not using it, this is what you’re covered for. We urge you to send us an email. If you’re not earning any money, it’s simple: your business will fail. Our team isn’t interested in your money. We find Conversly AI produces enough for us. There’s no reason to save your money if you aren’t using it.

We have no doubt that you’ll be excited about the amazing skills Conversly AI gives you today. We offer every customer a full money-back guarantee. Try Conversly AI for thirty days, and if something technical stops the product from working as it should, we’ll refund your entire payment. If you accurately describe the technical problem, we will solve it for you, no matter what.

Conversly AI Review: Pros and Cons

Pros:

Launch a SaaS-style business in minutes

100% control over pricing, branding, and lessons

Teaches ANY language using advanced AI NLP

Includes voice-based conversation AI

Built-in monetization system

Highly engaging gamification and student retention tools

No coding or technical setup required

Scalable for individuals, tutors, agencies, and institutions

Commercial and agency rights included (in upgrades)

Cons:

Requires a one-time fee limited time offer.

Requires stable internet connection.

Nothing wrong with it, it works perfectly!

My Own Customized Exclusive VIP Bonus Bundle

***How To Claim These Bonuses***

Step #1:

Complete your purchase of the Conversly AI: My Special Unique Bonus Bundle will be visible on your access page as an Affiliate Bonus Button on WarriorPlus immediately after purchase. And before ending my honest Conversly AI Review, I told you that I would give you my very own unique PFTSES formula for Free.

Step #2:

Send the proof of purchase to my e-mail “support@marketingprofitmedia.com” (Then I’ll manually Deliver it for you in 24 HOURS).

Conversly AI Free Premium Bonuses

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ’s)

Q. Do I need any experience to get started?

None, all you need is just an internet connection. And you’re good to go

Q. Is there any monthly cost?

Depends, If you act now, NONE. But if you wait, you might end up paying $997/mo It’s up to you.

Q. How long does it take to make money?

Our average member made their first sale the same day they got access to Conversly AI.

Q. Do I need to purchase anything else for it to work?

Nop, Conversly AI is the complete thing. You get everything you need to make it work. Nothing is left behind.

Q. What if I failed?

While that is unlikely, we removed all the risk for you. If you tried Conversly AI and failed, we will refund you every cent you paid And send you $300 on top of that just to apologize for wasting your time.

Q.How can I get started?

Awesome, I like your excitement, All you have to do is click any of the buy buttons on the page, and secure your copy of Conversly AI at a one-time fee

Final Verdict

Conversly AI is a powerful and innovative solution for anyone looking to launch a scalable, profitable language coaching business without technical skills or large investments. By combining conversational AI, gamification, voice interaction, and monetization features, it enables you to create a Duolingo-like platform under your brand. Whether you’re an educator, freelancer, or entrepreneur, Conversly AI gives you the tools to teach any language and build a recurring revenue stream. If you’ve ever dreamed of running your language app, now’s the perfect time to act.

🚀 Don’t miss out guys and start your journey with Conversly AI today!

>>> Click Here to Get Instant Access Conversly AI with Exclusive Bonuses <<<

Check Out My Previous Reviews: NovaTV AI Review, AI GameBuilder Review, PLR Hub Review, MovieReelAI Review, OpenApp AI 2.0 Review.

Thank for reading my honest “Conversly AI Review” till the end. Hope it will help you to make purchase decision perfectly.

[nulledclubproblog]

Onlinetrader Nulled Script 5.0.7

Download Onlinetrader Nulled Script – Start Your Trading Platform Today Are you ready to dive into the world of online investments with a powerful platform at your fingertips? The Onlinetrader Nulled Script offers you a fully functional solution to launch your own forex and cryptocurrency trading system without the hefty cost. This script is a game-changer for developers and entrepreneurs aiming to build secure, scalable, and engaging trading platforms in minutes. What is the Onlinetrader Nulled Script? The Onlinetrader Nulled Script is a high-performance, multi-functional investment platform that allows users to invest in forex, crypto assets, and commodities. Designed for efficiency and user-friendliness, this script supports automated investment plans, real-time profit tracking, and easy deposit/withdrawal systems. It mimics the functionalities of high-end financial platforms while remaining accessible and customizable. Why Choose the Onlinetrader Nulled Script? One of the most significant advantages of using the Onlinetrader  is the cost-effectiveness. You can access premium features without paying for the original license. This nulled version is clean, virus-free, and regularly updated to ensure it remains compatible with the latest technologies. Technical Specifications Built with PHP Laravel Framework Fully responsive UI/UX with Bootstrap 5 Integrated payment gateways (PayPal, Stripe, Bitcoin, and more) Two-factor authentication for secure logins Real-time trading analytics and user dashboards Top Features and Benefits User Dashboard: Monitor investments, earnings, and referral bonuses. Admin Panel: Control everything from packages to user settings with ease. Multi-currency Support: Accept payments and withdrawals in various currencies. Referral Program: Built-in affiliate system to boost user engagement. Investment Plans: Set and customize your own ROI percentages and durations. Who Should Use Onlinetrader Nulled Script? This script is perfect for developers, tech startups, and online entrepreneurs who want to break into the booming industry of forex and cryptocurrency trading. With minimal setup and zero licensing fees, the Onlinetrader Nulled Script lets you focus on growth and user acquisition instead of backend development. How to Install and Use Installing the Onlinetrader Nulled Script is simple: Download the script from our secure platform. Upload it to your server via FTP or cPanel. Import the SQL database included in the package. Configure the environment file (.env) with your server credentials. Access the admin dashboard and start customizing your platform! For those who prefer extended functionality, integrating with third-party tools like WPML pro NULLED enhances the script's multilingual capabilities and global reach. Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) Is the Onlinetrader Nulled Script safe to use? Yes, we ensure that all files are scanned for malware and tested for stability. However, always use trusted sources like our platform for downloading. Can I customize the features? Absolutely. The script is open-source and built on Laravel, making it highly flexible for customization. Do I need coding knowledge? Basic knowledge of web hosting and PHP is recommended, but even beginners can set up the script with our detailed documentation. Is there a risk of legal issues with nulled scripts? While we do not encourage any misuse, many users opt for nulled scripts for educational or testing purposes. Use them responsibly within your local legal framework. Start Building Your Financial Empire Today With the Onlinetrader Nulled Script, you're not just getting software—you’re unlocking a full-featured trading business platform. Whether you're a seasoned developer or a curious entrepreneur, this script provides the tools you need to enter the lucrative world of online trading. Enhance your site with powerful visual elements by integrating top-tier plugins like Slider Revolution Nulled to make your user interface stunning and responsive.

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[gowass]

Why Gen Z Is Shaping the Future of Urban Laundry Experiences

𝗟𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘀 — 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.

Gen Z isn’t just influencing fashion, food, and tech — they’re transforming how we do everyday things, including laundry. At Go Wass, we’ve noticed a clear trend: Gen Z customers are becoming the heart of our business model.

They aren’t just washing clothes. They’re sipping coffee, making reels, hanging with friends — all while waiting for a 30-minute spin cycle to end.

For investors and entrepreneurs, understanding this mindset is the key to staying relevant — and profitable.

𝗚𝗲𝗻 𝗭 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗖𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀

Today’s young adults aren’t satisfied with just a functional laundry stop. They seek out environments that:

Feel Instagrammable

Offer quick, seamless service

Align with eco-conscious values

Let them multitask — socialize, study, or chill

This is exactly what a Go Wass outlet is designed to deliver. From smart washers to stylish interiors and Wi-Fi lounges, every detail appeals to the Gen Z lifestyle.

Want to see what that looks like? Explore https://gowass.business/ for our flagship locations.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 “𝗦𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗟𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝘆” 𝗜𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝗜𝘀 𝗔𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹

In several of our locations, especially near colleges and coworking hubs, we’ve seen groups of friends treat laundry day as a mini outing. They grab a drink, plug in their laptops, and turn a chore into downtime.

That’s why we’ve integrated café zones and mini-events (like open mic sessions or quiz nights) to make Go Wass a lifestyle destination — not just a utility.

For investors, this means higher customer retention and stronger word-of-mouth growth.

𝗚𝗲𝗻 𝗭 𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗪𝗮𝗶𝘁 — 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗦𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗲𝗰𝗵

One of Gen Z’s most defining traits? They expect speed and tech integration in every service they use.

That’s why Go Wass offers:

Real-time machine availability via our app

Quick digital payments (UPI, QR codes, wallet integrations)

Contactless laundry drop-off options

We don’t just keep up with Gen Z — we build for them.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗲𝗻 𝗭 𝗖𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗿𝘀: 𝗟𝗼𝘆𝗮𝗹𝘁𝘆 + 𝗟𝗼𝘂𝗱 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀

Here’s something you’ll love as an investor: Gen Z doesn't just return if they like a place — they promote it. Reviews, Instagram stories, WhatsApp forwards — their engagement brings in more footfall without you spending extra on ads.

We often find that one great experience leads to a ripple effect — especially in university clusters. This viral nature of customer acquisition is built into Go Wass’s retail strategy.

You’ll see why that matters at https://gowass.business/.

𝗚𝗲𝗻 𝗭 𝗜𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 — 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗿𝗲 𝗔𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲

If your franchise or investment doesn’t speak Gen Z’s language, it’s already outdated.

Go Wass is uniquely positioned to capture this market because we don’t treat laundry as a service. We treat it as an evolving lifestyle choice — with tech, taste, and tone that resonate with India’s youngest economic contributors.

If you're an investor or entrepreneur who believes in solving real urban problems for the next generation, this is your signal. Build for Gen Z — with Go Wass.

Visit https://gowass.business/ and become part of the movement.