#feature-rich Contact Center

[vindaloo-softtech]

Unlocking the Potential of Your Contact Center with VSPL’s CallCentr8 Features

The contact center plays a crucial role as the primary face of the company and acts as a communication channel between the customers and organizations.

A well-performed contact center is attained by strategic planning, technological investment, and a persistent dedication of staff that ultimately leads to customer happiness. All these are necessary components in the constant journey of optimizing the operation of your contact center.

You can unleash the full potential of your contact center and turn it into a potent engine for business growth by enticing exceptional talent, utilizing cutting-edge call routing systems, leveraging insights from analytics, embracing omnichannel support, cultivating a supportive work environment, and putting in place efficient quality.

Are you looking for one such software that not only helps streamline your contact center but also helps you get an edge over your competitors by enhancing customer satisfaction?

The answer lies in Vindaloo Softtech’s Callcentr8- a multi-tenant contact center tool.

When it comes to optimizing your contact center’s performance, callcentr8 stands out as your trusted partner. With its innovative solutions and expertise, you can harness the full potential of your contact center.

It’s a WebRTC-powered multi-tenant Contact Center solution designed to effortlessly manage high call volumes while offering advanced features that go beyond typical contact center solutions.

Check out what sets it apart from other market tools:

4 levels of user access (Super Admin, Tenant, Supervisor, Agent)

Multi-tenancy support for tiered contact center

ACL, Trunk, DID Management for Super Admin

Agent Management (Monitoring, Allocation) for Tenant Admin

Call queue/ agent status monitoring for the supervisor agent

Call script management

Disposition Management

Web-based softphone portal access for agent

In-built Automatic Call Distribution (ACD) system

Interactive Voice Response (IVR) Management

Outgoing Rules

One-click Reporting (System, supervisor, agent, campaign)

Agent break management

Music-on-Hold and Prompt management

Call Recording & Playback

Essential Call Management Functions (Queue, barge, hold, mute, transfer)

Voice mail support

Completely Cloud-based Web App Solution

Why use CallCentr8- a feature-rich contact center tool?

Enhanced Customer Experience: Feature-rich software like CallCentr8 offers omnichannel support, intelligent routing, and call recording & playback facilities, enabling agents to provide more personalized and efficient customer service.

Improved Efficiency: In-built automatic call distribution (ACD) system and multi-tenancy automation features streamline processes and reduce agent workload ensuring increased productivity.

Easy Integrations: Using CallCentr8, you can easily get any out-of-the-box 3rd party tool integrated with all your other critical business tools.

Advanced Call Distribution Techniques: The tool supports several call distribution techniques, such as round-robin, sequential, time-based, fixed order, etc.

Cost Savings: With features like call recording and analytics, you can identify areas for improvement, optimize resource allocation, and ultimately reduce operational costs.

Intelligent Monitoring And Reporting: With CallCentr8, super admins can monitor the resource usage between different tenants and manage ACL, Trunk, and DID from the dashboard. Tenant admins can monitor the calling performance as well as generate periodic reports. Using the tool, supervisors get agent status, current call queue status, average call duration, and integral features such as call barge, whisper, or coach on their customizable dashboard.

In all, investing in this feature-rich Contact Center Tool will significantly enhance your customer service operations, drive efficiency, and contribute to overall business success.

Reach us at info@vindaloosofttech.com to have a free demo now!

[harmonictechnicality]

Robin drags Steve to a local art exhibit on a goddamn weeknight. This is not his scene at all.

Pretentious douchebags in scarves discussing if that splatter of paint represents socioeconomic downfall? Nah, this shit is not for him.

Robin ditches him halfway through the exhibit to talk to some sculptor that she’s got a thing for. Honestly, Steve would’ve done the same thing if it were him. But still, Steve is five minutes away from leaving her ass and taking a cab home.

He’s sitting on metal bench, centered a few feet away from the oversized canvas of scattered colors.

It looks like such a mess. Scribbled strokes of paint and lines that bump into curves. Everything intersecting. Someone would probably try to convince him that it represents the artist’s troubled past or fucked up childhood.

To Steve, it’s just a mess.

“What do you think?” A voice asks, joining Steve on the bench.

He looks to be about Steve’s age. Bold features, bolder hairstyle. All black clothes with chunky red combat boots. Elaborate tattoos creeping over the collar of his shirt.

Steve shrugs. “Truthfully? I don’t get it.”

“It’s art. What don’t you get about it?” The guy looks stunned.

Is Steve really about to argue with a complete stranger over lines and colors?

“There’s nothing but lost movements.”

Guess he is.

Steve observes the nameplate next to the canvas and goes off.

“Like this Eddie Munson guy held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’ Honestly, this whole place is a facade for people to masquerade around, pretending to be in tune to artistic expression, but they’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No.” Steve answers immediately, a little defensive. “Nobody here gives a shit about what the artist is trying to convey, and this artist…”

Steve points at the artwork.

“This Munson guy knew that. Knew he could fool every rich asshole in this place.”

The guy looks at the painting and laughs. He’s got a nice smile, Steve thinks. Wide and genuine. Not too perfect. Not overly rehearsed. Like he doesn’t give out smiles to just anyone.

“Eddie Munson couldn’t fool you though, could he?” He finally says, looking directly at Steve.

The intense eye contact makes Steve a bit fidgety. Nervous. “I guess not, no.”

“I like that.”

“Like what?”

“That you refuse to see what everyone else sees.” The guy turns away, releasing Steve from the gaze. “Even if that would be easier.”

It almost sounded like he was trying to say he likes Steve. Not that Steve would complain if that were true. This guy is not his type, but that doesn’t mean he’s unwilling to expand his definition of type for someone that’s interested in him.

“What do you think about it?” Steve tilts his head towards the canvas.

The guy twists the ring on his thumb, processing an answer. He crosses his legs, then un-crosses them. Twists the ring counterclockwise now.

“I think the painter abandoned their originality to meet their growing audience’s expectations of them as an artist.” He finally says.

Steve scoffs. “How did you draw up a conclusion like that?”

The guy hums and abruptly changes the topic. “What did you say your name was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Right.” He gets up and gestures toward a ‘staff only’ door. “Up for a little field trip, Steve Harrington?”

This is dumb. Breaking laws is something Steve left behind in his angst-filled teen years.

But this guy is bad-boy hot and Steve is painfully bored, so he follows the stranger despite his better judgement.

They enter the door and are instantly greeted by a trail of empty paint buckets. There’s dirty tarps covering the floors and countless canvases laid out across the wide room.

Right away, Steve can tell this is what art is all about. The chaos. The urgency to create as soon inspiration strikes.

And these paintings look nothing like the one hanging in the gallery. These paintings are full narratives told through shapes and pigments.

These paintings could be an autobiography on the topic of someone who experiences life deeply. Passionately.

These are the untold masterpieces.

“Wow.” Is all Steve finally comes up with.

“To answer your question,” the stranger gestures grandly to the entirety of the room. “This is how I drew up that conclusion.”

“This was the originality. It’s stuck behind these four walls, but it’s where everything started. It’s where everything should have stayed.”

Steve carefully watches the man explore all the different works of art. Bending down to touch some. Smiling playfully at others. Steve is stupidly captivated by his ability to shine amongst literal art.

“What did you say your name was?”

The guy chuckles and walks back over to Steve. “I didn’t.”

“Right. Are you gonna tell me?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if you’ll still kiss me after I tell you.”

They’re standing close, Steve hadn’t realized it until now. Maybe it was him closing the distance. Maybe it was the stranger. Maybe it was gravity growing tired of their mediocre foreplay.

But they’re close now. So close that Steve can see the lightening bolt tattoo below the stranger’s left ear. A thought runs rampant in Steve’s slutty mind that he could see every single neck tattoo if he were to start unbuttoning this guy’s shirt.

He’s close enough to do it.

“I’ll still kiss you afterwards,” Steve agrees dreamily. Getting high off of paint fumes and close proximity.

The stranger lets his hand wander up the back of Steve’s neck, breaths getting caught in Steve’s throat at the contact.

“I’m that Eddie Munson guy.” He says in a low whisper. “The same one who held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’”

Every word he utters is cautious now. Like Steve might change his mind about kissing him.

Steve doesn’t change his mind.

He pulls hard at Eddie’s collar, lets their lips collide dizzily fast. Eddie’s mouth pushes against his to lead the kiss, Steve is more than happy to let him do so.

It’s a noisy kiss. Sounds escaping out of the corners of their mouths. Airy gasps and rustling clothes filling the open space.

Steve breaks the kiss to speak, inhaling as much oxygen as he can get. “I’m guessing you bring lots of guys back here and woo them with your secretly amazing art.”

Eddie had transitioned to kissing Steve’s neck while he was talking, but stops as soon as Steve says that.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart.” Eddie cradles Steve’s flushed cheeks with both hands. “I only bring pretty boys who refuse to see what everyone else sees back here.”

Steve moves Eddie’s hands and wraps them around his own neck. “Even if that would be easier.”

Eddie smiles. “Exactly.”

He goes back to sucking on Steve’s neck, like he was rudely interrupted before, and Steve starts to feel as chaotic as the art surrounding them. Eddie marks him with a fresh bruise, just below his right ear. Mirroring the exact spot where Eddie’s lightening tattoo is located.

Eddie licks over it. Swirling his tongue in sweltering circles, making Steve pant wow as he finishes the creation he was designing solely with his mouth.

He exhales a single laugh into their kiss.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head.

“I really like doing things that make you say wow like that, Steve Harrington.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “I really like that too.”

Eddie kisses him thoroughly slow once more, then nibbles over Steve’s ear as he whispers:

“Kinda curious to find out what else I can make you say.”

[holybibly]

Tastes like Heaven |Seonghwa x reader|

Genre: smut, vampire au, dark romance

Word Count: 2,3 k

Summary: You taste like heaven and Seonghwa can't get enough.

A missing scene from "Divine Rosa" without any subplot. Seonghwa is drunk on pussy and that's all you need to know.

Can be read as a standalone.

WARNING: only!18+ Blood drinking, blood kink, pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, pussy eating, masturbation and more.

A/N: For everyone who wanted to get oneshot with Seonghwa. The original plan was to make it more plot-driven and detailed. But Woosan is a force to be reckoned with. Preview coming up next week.

I'm still learning how to write smut 🙈

"Take this off." Seonghwa ordered as he turned me around and began to unbutton the back of my thin dress.

His graceful, slender fingers pulled the silk down my curves until it puddled at my feet, sending a cool breeze over my heated skin. With a flick of his hand, the silver trays and heavy plates fell from the table to the floor with a deafening clatter. Before I could react, he grabbed my hips and turned me back to face him. The iridescent flames of the candles deepened his hypnotic features to shades as rich and deep as the stone jewel tones that dripped blood onto the wide collar of his kimono.

I didn't have time to enjoy his beauty. His demanding hand pressed into the space between my breasts, forcing me down onto the table behind me.

"Seonghwa, I..."

The anticipation of pleasure made my whole body tremble. I couldn't recognize my feelings. It was as if I was under a spell. It wasn't the first time he touched me, fucked me, drank my blood to the point of pain, and stars danced before my eyes, but each time was like the first. It was always Seonghwa. It was always he.

"I know, My Lady. I know." As he stood over me, he purred deep in his throat, the velvety sound licking at my skin and leaving goose bumps behind.

My head was spinning. And he hadn't even started to play with me yet. His fingers brushed over the folds of my pants a couple of times, pressing lightly on my clit with each movement, before he pulled the useless material away from me. His magnetic eyes swept over my naked body. I lay on the dining table, exposed and vulnerable to his predatory gaze.

He grabbed my knees and pulled them apart, lowering his head to my aching center. His long, silky hair brushed the inside of my thigh, lightly touching the small, inflamed wounds left from this morning's feeding. His cold breath was barely perceptible on my damp folds. I could feel the clenching of my pussy at this ghostly contact. The kimono slipped off his shoulders, revealing his sharp, glassy collarbones and the hard, smooth muscles of his chest. Even though his appearance had lost its primitive perfection, there was still so much strength in him. So much power, and I could see it flowing beneath his skin. I had a thirst for his touch, a thirst for the pain he could inflict on me. I wanted him to hurt me. No, I needed it. It was incredibly erotic, just like Seonghwa himself.

"Hurt me, Hwa. Bite me." I threw my head back so that my neck was completely exposed to him in a submissive way. He could rip my throat open with a single move, and knowing that made me feel wet between my legs.

"Yes, my love. I'm going to hurt you, and it will be the most exquisite pain you've ever known. I will give you the most beautiful death, and you will desire every moment of it—this agony. Now lie down and don't disturb me any more. It's time for me to enjoy my dessert."

I did as I was told and lay on my back. My legs trembled from the lazy, scratching caresses of Seonghwa's long fingernails on my thighs. A shiver of warmth and a new rush of moisture went through me as I realized that his dark gaze was focused on my most intimate places.

"Look at how beautiful you are." He whispered so close to my pussy that I could almost feel his lips touching the folds of it. "I will devour you, my sweet lady." Seonghwa was humming to herself.

My hips swayed to his words, and my breathing was punctuated by short bursts of wanting and needing. Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched his lustful gaze as he sat at the head of the table, ready to taste me as he pleased. God, he was going to ruin me. I didn't want anything more.

"Put your head down on the table, Sarang. I will punish you if you do not follow the rules." His broad palm pressed between my breasts again, pinning me to the table with palpable force. The tips of his sharp nails dug into my skin, and I moaned.

The image of Songhwa bending me over the table, mindlessly fucking me to tears and meaningless babbling, pulling my hair with force, and sinking his fangs viciously into my neck sent a dark shiver through my body. He was going to fuck me for twenty-four hours without stopping, taking one orgasm after another, until I was begging him to stop. Fuck.

I was ready to give up any obedience for that alone. But now that I felt his mood, I whispered obediently:

"Yes, my Lord."

My head rested obediently on the hard oak table, and I bit my lip, waiting for him to act. And then his touch slid down the inside of my thighs before his fingers parted my pussy lips. I whimpered at the touch of his breath against my heart.

"Please, Hwa, I can't… I can't take it any longer…"

Seonghwa stroked my left tit before gently rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. My lips parted, and as my eyes rolled back in pleasure, I heard his velvety voice:

"Anything for you, my Queen."

His long tongue slipped out and swirled between my folds before gliding up to my wet center, and I didn't have time to bask in the caress of his voice. My hips instinctively pushed closer, wanting more as both of his hands slid down my thighs. This time they didn't just scratch, they steamed my skin hard, leaving behind a vicious bloody sweat. Seonghwa's thumbs pressed along my slit, widening it as he went to enjoy himself. The sound he made was pornographic, a deep, hungry growl I could feel vibrating through my pussy. I moaned loudly, arching my back and pressing harder against his face as his tongue entered my hole.

I reached down and ran my fingers through his long hair. I pulled the silky strands back a little. This only served to turn him on even more, and through the wet sound of the licking, I could barely make out his request.

"Harder."

Hell, yeah! It was an insane pleasure, something elusive on the edge of pain and pleasure, my fingers tugging furiously at his hair.

I couldn't resist looking at him, even though I was getting into trouble. His black hair fell down my thighs like midnight orchid petals in the snow, shimmering with dark purple flashes in the flickering golden flame of the candles. His perfect, plush lips pressed against my dripping centre as his hypnotic, feline eyes fixed on me. His long tongue licked the liquid that was leaking from me in quick, desperate movements. It was as if he'd been thirsty for years and only the taste of my cunt could quench this painful craving for satiation.

If I didn't know better, I'd have been under the impression that it was God himself who was on his knees. Or was it Lucifer? The mysterious lord of horror, of pain, and of the most unimaginable pleasure.

It didn't matter to me who he was, because Seonghwa was mine. And only mine.

"This is it, my Lady, look at me. Look at me as I devour this sweet little pussy." He grinned at me, and I felt dizzy. "Watch me feast on you; watch me taste you." Seonghwa stuck out his tongue, and a high-pitched squeal escaped my throat as the sharp tip flicked my clit as precisely and calculatedly as only fingers could.

"Ahhhhh..." I moaned. I could feel the long, viscous jets of my cum flowing down my thighs, sticking to the silk of Seonghwa's luxurious kimono.

"This is my beautiful lady. Moan for me one more time, my divine Rosa."

My fingers trembled in the waves of his hair as I felt each silky strand of it press against my sensitive skin.

"Bite me. Bite me, Seonghwa. Take all of me." I gasped for breath, my chest rising and falling in an intermittent rhythm between desperate pleas and long moans.

My body felt thin, light, and intangible. All the interconnected nerves, muscles, and ligaments quivered, turning my body into a musical instrument that shimmered under the constant movement of his tongue.

"Hwa, please..."

"We're almost there; just a little more, love." He murmured, the softness of his breath sending a gentle puff of air between the wetness of my thighs. "I'm so hungry."

The next time his soft finger slid along the length of my slit, my head snapped back, and the world became a blur. But as soon as I broke eye contact, the movement stopped.

"No, love, you were so desperate for a glimpse of me, so have a look. I want to see you collapse as I suck every last drop out of that lovely pink cunt of yours."

When my eyes obediently met his demonic stare, he grinned wickedly and playfully lowered his long pink tongue to my chin. I could admire the wet muscle and saliva dripping down, mixed with my cum.

"Such a good girl. Obedient, sweet babygirl."

Seonghwa lowered his beautiful face down to my pussy once again, and this time he took a deep breath in.

The sensation of his nose on my clit made my face flush red. It was a sharp pleasure that sent a thousand tingles through my body, as if I'd fallen into a bush of wild roses. So painfully beautiful. His tongue slipped out again, pressing greedily against my shrinking hole. The sharp tip slid in, licking the silky walls, trying to penetrate as deeply as possible.

I groaned and moaned loudly. Wet squelching sounds filled the dining room, and I was sure everyone in the mansion knew how well Seonghwa was eating me. Damn it, if this wasn't heaven, then what was it? The table underneath me was wet and cold from the large amount of moisture that had leaked from me. Seonghwa's kimono lay even lower, leaving her upper body almost completely exposed, and was only held up by the corset belt that was tight around her phenomenally thin waist. The whole thing was a mess.

"Sarang, you taste like heaven, like ambrosia." Seonghwa's moan was muffled by the sound of my pussy as I rubbed it desperately against his face. High cheekbones, plump lips, soft cheeks, all glistening with my excitement.

Even when he looked like this, with his face stuffed with my cunt, his hair tousled, and his eyes wild and hungry, Seonghwa looked like the most perfect work of art. I started to run my fingers through his hair again, twisting the strands around my wrists and pulling them back with all my strength. I was mesmerised by him, fascinated by the way the light fell on his bare skin, the sharp line of his shoulders, every firm curve of his chest, his abs, and his exquisite back that tapered to a slim waist. His long, wriggling tongue plunged deeper and deeper into me.

Seonghwa slid two long fingers into my hole as I watched him, like a victim drawn to a deadly snake dance. The action caused me to jerk at the unexpected intrusion, but I immediately came to my senses and gave in by thrusting my hips forward and pushing myself deeper into his fingers. This movement allows his fingers to slide in deeper, teasing me as they nestle their tips against my hot walls. I can feel the coldness of his fingers as my pussy clenches more tightly around them. I begin to moan again, my breath catching in the back of my throat.

My whole body is shaking, and I am already on the verge of climax. I couldn't think of anything else but cumming. The feeling of him is deeper inside me. The feeling of him filling me. The feel of his teeth in my flesh.

Oh fuck!

"That's right, my little Rosa. Take it. Cume on my face, Sarang. Let me get drunk." Seonghwa purred and pressed his lips harder against my hot, wet cunt.

It breaks me in half. The pleasure pours through me in a glorious flash of color that makes me go blind. I scream, my whole body writhing, trying to relive my orgasm, and as the overwhelming waves of pleasure slowly subside, I feel it—his fangs stinging my flesh.

The sensation was more than I had ever dreamed of. It exploded and shook me like death, like life, like a myriad of exploding stars.

Wave after wave, robbing me of my breath and of any ability to think at all. His lips pressed greedily against my skin. I could hear his throat tighten in greedy gulps and feel his tongue licking the blood that was spreading across my skin.

Seonghwa's fingers continued to slide inside me. They clung to the trembling walls until it began to hurt. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes from the sheer flood of emotions and sensations. His thumb circles my clit for the last time, and he pulls his fingers out of me with a lewd, squelching sound. It takes me a few minutes to catch myself before I start to think.

When my eyes return to Seonghwa, he is both terrifying and majestic at the same time. His entire upper body is covered in blood, as are his gorgeous lips, which also glisten with what's left of my orgasm. His eyes are wild and dark, as if all the sins of the world had accumulated in their depths. His hair is tangled and messy, long strands of it caressing the skin of his chest and his elegant shoulders. Our eyes meet, and I see a devilish grin curling across his gorgeous mouth.

"You taste like heaven, Sarang. And I'm still hungry for more."

[blueiscoool]

A 2,000-Year-old Iron Age Gold Treasure Found in Wales

Gold coins dating back more than 2,000 years have been found by metal detectorists in Wales, making them the first hoard of Iron Age gold coins to have been discovered in the country.

The 15 coins, which have been declared treasure, are known as staters. They were found the Welsh island of Anglesey, off the northwest coast of the country’s mainland.

Struck between 60 BC and 20 BC, the coins belonged to the Corieltavi tribe, who at the time inhabited the geographical area that is now England’s East Midlands, according to a National Museum Wales press release.

The precious metals were unearthed by three metal detectorists in a field between July 2021 and March 2022.

Lloyd Roberts, who said he has been a metal detectorist for more than 14 years, found the first coin.

“Finding a gold stater was always number one on my wish list,” he said in the release, adding: “That one coin alone would have made my year, but I went on to find another on my next signal.”

Roberts said that his friend, Peter Cockton, found the next three. They then contacted the Portable Antiquities Scheme, an organization which records such historical and archaeological finds.

Tim Watson, who said he only began metal detecting following encouragement from his father during lockdown, found the sixth.

“I rushed home to show my wife and we were both in awe of this coin, which was like nothing else I had found, immaculately preserved with such unusual stylised images,” Watson said in the release.

Watson said his enthusiasm led him to upgrade his metal detector and he found the remaining nine coins in the following weeks.

‘Rich archaeological landscape’

The gold coins’ elaborate design derives from those of Philip II, who ruled the ancient kingdom of Macedonia from 359 BC to 336 BC. The heads side of the coins shows the mythological deity Apollo’s wreath and hair, while the tails side shows a triangular-headed horse surrounded by symbols.

The coins were likely not used for everyday transactions, except potentially for some high-value purchases, according to the release. Instead, the staters are thought to have been used as gifts between the elites to secure alliances or show loyalty.

Another option is that the Corieltavi tribe used them to form part of an exchange for copper, which there were sources of in various parts of the island.

The staters could also have been used as “offerings to the gods” to fulfill a vow, according to National Museum Wales. Other archaeological finds from Anglesey, as well as Roman sources referring to the island that feature pagan priests, suggest the area was an important religious center at the time.

Gwynedd Archaeological Trust visited the site in September 2021 to see if there were any clues as to why the coins were buried there.

“This hoard is a fantastic example of the rich archaeological landscape that exists in North-West Wales,” said Sean Derby, Historic Environment Record archaeologist at Gwynedd Archaeological Trust. “While the immediate vicinity of the find did not yield any clues as to the find’s origin, the findspot lies in an area of known prehistoric and early Roman activity and helps increase our understanding of this region.”

Welsh museum Oriel Môn is looking to acquire the coins and put them on public display.

By Amarachi Orie.

[saturnville]

I. Inaugural Veil

→ pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Lyra Ravenshroud (blackfem oc)

→ summary: President Coriolanus Snow introduces himself to the Capitol Senate, where he meets newly elected Reform Advocate Senator Lyra Ravenshroud.

→ tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim

→ an: depending on how y'all like this, I'll continue it. if not, it can stand as a standalone.

→ reminder: reblogs and comments are much appreiciated!

President Coriolanus Snow, a towering figure of authority, ascended the grand stage with an air of regal confidence. His platinum blond hair, meticulously styled in a sleek comeover, caught the glint of the spotlight, emphasizing the sharp angles of his aristocratic features. Dressed in a crimson red suit that spoke of power and ambition, a single white rose adorned his lapel—a symbol of both purity and calculated charm.

Icy blue eyes, cold as the very name he carried, scanned the crowd with an analytical precision. He caught the green eyes of a young woman as he spoke to the Capitol Senate. She was a cute woman, he noted. Her fair skin was beet-red as she attempted to maintain eye-contact wit the President. The corners of his mouth raised as he attempted to mask his smirk.

His smile, a masterpiece of beauty and charisma, played effortlessly upon his lips. It was a weapon, finely honed through years of navigating the intricate web of Capitol politics. The allure of his charm was unmatched, a force that had won over even the most skeptical hearts in the Capitol.

The Capitol Senate room was carefully crafted by the strong hands of Capitol engineers and architects. Similar to the Academy and the University, the ceilings were as high as skyscrapers with long windows that welcomed the fall sun. The room was held by large Grecian-like columns, sanded to perfection. On the marble floor, which lacked dust or grime, was the symbol of the Capitol in red. An addition made by President Snow.

He stood before them on the podium that was built just for him. At the front of the room, he was the center of attention. All 300 Senators, leaders, and other political figures gawking at him like he was a peacock who just showed his beautiful array of colorful feathers.

On the Senate floor, newly elected Senator Lyra Ravenshroud observed the spectacle with a discerning gaze. Standing at a mid-size stature, she emanated a quiet strength that belied the challenges she was prepared to face. Her dark skin exuded a richness that stood in stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. Sister locs, meticulously arranged, framed her face and cascaded just below her shoulder blades—a testament to both tradition and individuality.

Lyra's eyes were trained on the President as he shifted his footing. There was a seat behind him, white as snow, that he had not sat down in since it arrived. A million questions floated in her mind as she watched him interact with members of the Senate. He came from newfound wealth through his father's military strength, therefore, it was not easy to recover after the rebellions. But, for him to graduate from the Academy at 18 and become the president of the nation, from zero to hero in just five years, was something she struggled to wrap her mind around. It even kept her awake at night.

As the President spoke of unity and progress, his charismatic words weaving through the air, Lyra listened with a gaze that saw beyond the surface. The crimson-suited president and the reform advocate senator—their worlds collided on this stage, setting the tone for a new dawn in Panem's political landscape.

President Coriolanus Snow concluded his inaugural address with a flourish, the applause from the Capitol elite echoing through the hallowed room. As the crowd erupted in admiration, he stepped down from the podium, his crimson suit a beacon of authority amid the sea of admirers in neutral clothing. A stark contrast indeed.

Meanwhile, on the Senate floor, Lyra Ravenshroud rose from her seat, her dark eyes following the President's every move. The air seemed to hum with an unspoken tension as their eyes locked across the expanse of power.

The Presidednt, drawn by an invisible force, made his way through the crowd. His steps were deliberate, every move a calculated display of charisma. He apologized to those who tried o get his attention, promising to circle back shortly. As he approached Lyra, the air crackled with anticipation—a collision of two worlds on the precipice of collaboration.

"Senator Ravenshroud," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of authority. His icy blue eyes met her warm brown ones, and he found himself captivated by the dance within her gaze. "A pleasure to finally meet the advocate who promises to reshape the Capitol's destiny."

Lyra's sensual smile played upon her lips as she extended her hand. "President Snow, the pleasure is mine." Her voice, a sultry melody, resonated in the air. Coriolanus found himself liking the sound of it, the way her words carried a depth that transcended the usual political pleasantries. "Your words inspire change, and I am eager to be part of that transformation."

Their handshake, a symbolic gesture of political unity, resonated through the crowd. Unbeknownst to them, this moment marked the inception of a collaboration that would shape the course of Panem's future. As the applause continued, a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty lingered—a foreshadowing of the shadows yet to unfold.

Coriolanus, ever the tactician, couldn't help but be intrigued by the woman before him. The way her eyes, brown like rich earth, danced with the gaze of his icy blue ones hinted at a complexity that both fascinated and unnerved him. Her physical presence, a mid-sized woman exuding a quiet strength, contrasted sharply with the opulence of the Capitol.

The title of President seemed to roll off her tongue effortlessly, a dance of words that added an unexpected elegance to the occasion.

"I'm glad to hear that," Coriolanus spoke softly. "I hope you're looking forward to the new Senator orientation tomorrow. I'll explain your new role better tomorrow during our one-on-one. My assistant will pass over those times to you."

Lyra gathered her purse over her shoulder and nodded. "Of course. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr. President." She smiled gently.

Coriolanus tilted his chin up and nodded once, slowly. "Likewise, Ms. Ravenshroud." Little did they know, as the stage was set, the delicate dance of power had truly begun.

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER ONE - SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

TWO MONTHS LATER…

The grandeur of your ancestral house in Guildford enveloped you as you strolled through its opulent corridors. Intricately carved wooden paneling adorned the walls, while rich crimson carpets absorbed the echo of your footsteps. The air is filled with the faint scent of polished wood and aged leather, exuding dignified timelessness.

Ascending the grand staircase, you run your hand along the mahogany handrail, feeling the smoothness of centuries of use. Reaching the landing on the second floor, a series of oil paintings greeted your vision. Painted by the likes of Van Gogh, Monet, Gauguin and Millet, each frame you passed through expressively telling stories of their lives’ hardships expressed through masterful strokes that evoked love, pain and unwavering resolve.

You finally reached a pair of imposing double doors, elaborately carved with intricate designs and gilded accents. Pushing them open, you step into your refuge within this grand manor. You took in the soft early afternoon light streaming through the lace curtains, the interior awash in soft, muted colors that evoke a sense of calm and serenity. The master bedroom itself bore an air of regal charm, with the walls adorned with exquisite silk wallpaper featuring delicate floral patterns. A four-poster bed draped in satin was situated at the very center, the bed linens made of the finest Egyptian cotton and the plump pillows neatly arranged in the head rest. 

Seating yourself at the foot of your bed, your eyes caught a familiar oil canvas painting facing your direction - a self portrait of you dressed in a filipiniana gown while holding a soft-feathered fan on your right hand. Brief images of the very day you were painted flashed through your mind, remembering your shy, palpable smile as you took a graceful, elegant pose towards the handsome yet unrecognizable painter as his right hand carefully glided his paintbrush across the canvas.

You’ve been having these recurring dreams again as of late. But you cannot figure out for the life of you who the mysterious subject of your night recollections is.

Mildly shaking your head, you made your way towards your antique writing desk situated near a large bay window, overlooking the well-manicured gardens outside. The scent of freshly picked flowers finally distracted you from your musings, mingling with the aroma of polished wood. Carefully arranged, your flower vase was strategically placed beside an assortment of your night study essentials -  an inkwell, quill pen, notepad, a hardbound copy of Atlas of Ancient Egpyt, and a work laptop with multiple tabs open. 

Against one wall, a towering bookshelf houses an impressive collection of leather-bound tomes, each one a testament to your intellectual pursuits. You returned the hardbound copy of Atlas of Ancient Egpyt to its previous resting place, vowing to return to it after your overseas assignment. That book was an essential to you since you work full time as a museum curator for the British Museum. Back then, that career path wasn’t meant for your gender in the olden age. But as the world changes with time and equality between sexes have been more embraced, you found yourself living your life long passion of promoting cultural heritage and ancestral discovery.

Typing away at your laptop, you’ve mostly dealt with a lot of email exchanges involving procurement and acquisition of artifacts, record keeping and liaising with Egyptologists for the upcoming Ennead exhibition you’re organizing. You have already let most of your recent business contacts know that you’re on overseas leave, advising everyone to liaise with your secretary, Aleah Santos, in your absence.

A gentle knock on your door pulls you out of your reverie, your eyes now diverted towards the bedroom entrance. A middle-aged British man stands in the doorway with an air of quiet dignity, his appearance a testament to his impeccable service and professionalism. His face exudes an air of experience and reserve, befitting his role as the trusted steward of the household. He wears a perfectly tailored, immaculately pressed charcoal-gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie, and his salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously combed and styled to maintain a polished appearance.

His striking deep, intelligent blue eyes observed you quietly, framed by well-defined eyebrows that conveyed a sense of attentiveness. He was holding in one hand a tray with a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and a blueberry scone, and a neatly pressed and folded set of smart, business casual clothes in the other. The fabrics were chosen with care and tailored to perfection, a testament to the older man’s meticulous attention to detail.

“Bill, how lovely to see you this afternoon”, you smiled appreciatively before standing, slowly reaching for your wardrobe in his arms. “Thank you for bringing these”

"It's my pleasure, Lady Carter", Bill answered politely, his refined British accent adding to his aura of sophistication. William Jones, who you affectionately nicknamed “Bill”, is the latest addition in the long line of the Jones household who have served the Carter family for a very long time. As the new head of the family estate, the depth of his loyalty to you runs deep and unquestioned.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing your necessities for the trip”, Bill said with a warm smile as he followed you inside, placing the tray of refreshments on your desk. “You'll find your travel documents and essentials ready in your briefcase, and I’ve packed you a suitcase for the three-day trip”

“What would I ever do without you?” you chuckled playfully, grateful for his unwavering efficiency.

“Years of service have taught me well”, Bill chuckled softly. “Now, if I may, I’d like to go over your schedule for the week.”

“Go ahead, I’m all ears”, you nodded, finally taking your first sip of the afternoon tea prepared. It was nothing short of exquisite, the fragrant steam wafting up to greet your senses. “Impeccable brew as always, by the way”

"I’m glad you like the concoction, Milady”, Bill nodded before clearing his throat, proceeding to recite the details of your upcoming trip. “Your flight to Chicago is later this evening at 7PM, and I will be driving you to the airport three hours prior”

You nodded, mentally ticking off the items on your mental checklist, as he continued to consult his notes and brief you.

“Upon your arrival to the United States, a valet service will pick you up and take you to your hotel. I made reservations at the one within walking distance of the family court where your next interpreting assignment will be running for three days”

“That’s good to hear”, you nodded, taking a small bite of the scone. “Have my secretary check on the tour guide headcount at the British Museum and handle the recruitment interviews while I’m gone” 

“Understood”, Bill said curtly, finishing up writing on his notes. He gave a small bow before leaving the room. With his departure, you set to work on packing your travel essentials for your upcoming assignment. 

The routine of operating as a freelance interpreter was familiar, accepting potential clients needing your services regardless of location. You cater mostly to the Filipino community, as it helped you fulfill your duties as Mayari’s avatar - to oversee, guide and protect her travelers of the night. Of all the careers you dabbled in your long life on this earth, being an interpreter and a museum curator were one of the very few roles you’ve had that you took immense pride in. Both navigated the complexities of language and history, bridging the gap between cultures and individuals.

The next morning after your arrival in the United States, the Chicago sun greeted you as you stepped out of your hotel room and into the bustling city streets. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from a nearby café, tempting you, but duty called.

You found yourself before the imposing building of the Chicago Family Court in Cook County. It was a massive edifice of imposing architecture, and its walls seemed to resonate with the stories of countless families and their struggles. On your way to the court registry, you navigated the maze of hallways with purposeful steps. The walls were painted in muted tones, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. Lawyers in tailored suits, stern-faced judges, and anxious family members all found their places. The court clerk finally checked you in after having you sign the log book, advising you of your assigned courtroom for your scheduled appointment.

You walked into the assigned courtroom, the polished wood of the benches and the imposing judge's bench before you. The judge’s gaze met yours as you approached the witness stand, acknowledging your presence as he had you sworn in. He instructed you to raise your right hand as you recited your oath, a solemn promise to faithfully and impartially interpret the proceedings for those who needed it. 

“Thank you, Interpreter”, the judge nodded, your duty now officially recognized. “Please introduce yourself to the courtroom for the record”

“Yes, Your Honor”, you greeted in a clear, unwavering voice. “Good morning. My name is Mira Batala-Carter, and I will be serving as the Tagalog/Filipino interpreter for the witness in the stand”

The court proceedings began, and your voice filled the room as you translated the witness's testimony. You moved seamlessly between languages, ensuring that justice prevailed, one word at a time. The judge and attorneys watched you closely, appreciating your precision and dedication.

After the session concluded, you extended a hand to the witness, a kind-hearted woman who had been through a trying experience. She thanked you for your services, her eyes conveying a profound gratitude that words could not fully capture. As she left your presence, you muttered a silent prayer to your patron goddess, fulfilling your role as her avatar as you invoked a simple protection spell.

“Patnubayan mo ang guhit ng kanyang kapalaran, aking diwatang Mayari”

Guide the lines of her fate, my goddess Mayari.

As the proceedings unfolded over the next three days, you found yourself immersed in the world of legal battles, translating the words and emotions of those caught in the intricate web of the justice system. It was a demanding role, one that required not just linguistic proficiency, but also an acute understanding of human nature and the ability to convey the nuances of speech. Legal jargon and emotional testimonies flowed through you, and you remained resolute in your duty as an interpreter.

You arrived early on the last day of your interpreting assignment, finally giving in to your caffeine cravings as you clutch a cup of steaming coffee to ward off the chilly Chicago morning. You took a seat in the hallway, waiting outside the assigned courtroom. As you sipped your cappuccino and glanced around, your eyes landed on a man slouched on one of the benches, clearly taking a nap. 

His face stirred a memory, one that danced tantalizingly out of reach. Yet you couldn't quite place where you had seen him before. He had a rugged handsomeness, an aura of enigmatic mystery that drew you in. 

The man's companion, a woman of Arabic-Egyptian descent with a cascade of curly, dark hair, approached him, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. She leaned down, her concern etched on her face as she gently nudged him awake. She whispered something to him, and he stirred, blinking his eyes open.

Your heart clenched as you witnessed the tenderness in their interaction. The way their eyes met with shared history and unspoken understanding prompted a deluge of memories to flood your mind, unbidden and unexpected.

Like ghosts from the past, you heard sounds of laughter and shared secrets echoing inside your head. Your lips trembled as they seemingly remembered the tenderness of breathless kisses stolen beneath the moonlit sky. The details eluded you, but the emotions were vivid—joy, love, and a sense of belonging. 

But as swiftly as those memories resurfaced, they slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with an ache of longing and confusion.

Who was this man, and why did his presence stir such deep-seated emotions within you?

Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a call from Bill interrupted your reverie. You reached for your phone, the jarring ringtone pulling you back to reality.

"Lady Carter," Bill's voice came through the receiver, crisp and professional. "I have an important update from Miss Santos. We are still missing one more tour guide from the total headcount you require for the upcoming exhibition"

“Copy that”, you nodded. “Please have her finalize the applicants I’ll need to interview on Saturday”

As you hung up the phone, a court clerk emerged to announce that the morning proceedings will now begin. Finishing the rest of your coffee, you threw the empty cup at the nearby bin before entering the courtroom once more to complete the final leg of your interpreting assignment. 

Unbeknownst to you, Mayari, the patron goddess of the moon, quietly observed from a distance as her ethereal, astral form shimmered from afar. Her eyes, filled with a sorrow you had never seen before, remained fixed on you as she recalled the most grievous of her sins—removing your image of Darius Carter and your memories of the events that had bound you to Khonshu's avatar, Moon Knight. She had acted with what she believed was your best interest at heart, but now, as she watched the remnants of your forgotten past resurface, doubt crept into her heart.

Mayari was determined to see her decision through to the end, to protect you from the darkness that lurked in the shadows. Yet, as she gazed upon the unfolding drama, the lines between right and wrong blurred, and the weight of her choices pressed upon her.

“Mr and Mrs Spector, please come to the front”

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

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[burningchandelier]

I am home, I have napped, I'm ready to talk about last night's L.S. Dunes show in Providence, Rhode Island. There is no way for me to condense the experience into a post because that is impossible. Okay-- maybe it is possible: It FUCKED. Hard. But, more specifically: I was third in line, which was a total accident due to my insomnia. When we got inside, I got middle of barrier, which was unexpected but very cool.

(Pictured: Anthony Green, mid-jump, the crowd behind, a crowd surfer being lowered by security. I am behind the crowd surfer with my arms still slightly raised from passing them off)

The Q&A was awesome. All the guys gave thoughtful answers to our questions from "what breed of dog would you be?" to "would you encourage your kid to be a musician?"

The opener was Teenage Morgue, who killed it. I didn't know what to expect, but god damn, they delivered. I'll make a point of seeing them any time they come by.

L.S. Dunes was one of the best bands I have ever seen live, without a doubt. I have seen Anthony Green a few times and he has undeniable stage presence. He is incredibly expressive vocally, but also facially and being so close was amazing because he makes a lot of eye contact with the audience when he can. It was really powerful.

(Pictured: Anthony Green standing with both arms extended, Christ-like, holding a microphone and cord. He is backlit with blues and purples. Behind him, out of focus, is Tim Payne, back two-thirds to the camera. Tucker Rule is mostly obscured, sitting at the drums) When I was able to stop watching Anthony, the challenge was picking who else to focus on, because every other musician was so dynamic and interesting.

Tucker was unbelievable and I could happily watch an old-school twenty-minute long drum solo if he did it. I was so happy to see Tim featured center stage, absolutely slaying those bass lines. He is the heart of the band in so many ways. Frank is, well, Frank Iero. He is a born performer and everything he does feels like a little gift to whoever happens to catch it.

All of that said, I felt like Travis was the standout of the band in his understated way. He plays flawlessly, with a simple kind of confidence that is full of radiant joy. You can hear it in his recordings, but it is entirely different watching him. He is inspired up there.

(Pictured: Travis Stever, playing the guitar, eyes downcast. Backlit by streaks of purple light. Behind him, mostly obscured, Tucker Rule is drumming) I wish show had been three times as long. I will go to every one L.S. Dunes show that I can possibly make.

All pictures are from Rich G's instagram, yallhavingbirthdaycake. Appropriately, it was Rich's birthday yesterday and I was delighted to get to wish him a happy birthday in person and talk about his new camera. That was also a big highlight of the show for me.

[ausetkmt]

With a soulful sound and a signature look ingrained in our communal grown-folks culture, Frankie Beverly is definitively linked with summer—then, now and forever. The music of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly is the soundtrack of warm dusks spent cruising local side streets, with the windows down and the speakers turned on high. Beverly’s voice conjures memories of late afternoons seated in a sunny corner of the extended family’s spacious backyard, eavesdropping on “grown-folks business” being discussed at the cooler while the aroma of an active grill fills the air. The group’s songs trigger ­muscle memory of the electric slide on freshly cut grass, Soul Train lines in the living room, and slow dances under the stars.

So it’s no surprise that the legendary performer is returning to the pinnacle of summer, the ESSENCE Festival of Culture, for our 30th anniversary. He will be receiving his flowers as a legacy entertainer and, for one last time, commanding the very stage he helped build from its inception.

“I haven’t been on the ESSENCE stage in a little while, but it feels good to be asked to come back,” Beverly says ahead of his final performance at our festival. The crooner and his iconic band closed out Sunday night during our inaugural music festival in 1995—and yearly for the next 14 years. Now, they will be honored on that same stage for all they’ve contributed to the culture. “When ESSENCE contacted us and wanted to honor me, I really couldn’t say no,” Beverly states. “We have a long and rich history. The ESSENCE Festival is a big part of my career.”

With a soulful sound and a signature look ingrained in our communal grown-folks culture, Frankie Beverly is definitively linked with summer—then, now and forever. The music of Maze featuring Frankie Beverly is the soundtrack of warm dusks spent cruising local side streets, with the windows down and the speakers turned on high. Beverly’s voice conjures memories of late afternoons seated in a sunny corner of the extended family’s spacious backyard, eavesdropping on “grown-folks business” being discussed at the cooler while the aroma of an active grill fills the air. The group’s songs trigger ­muscle memory of the electric slide on freshly cut grass, Soul Train lines in the living room, and slow dances under the stars.

So it’s no surprise that the legendary performer is returning to the pinnacle of summer, the ESSENCE Festival of Culture, for our 30th anniversary. He will be receiving his flowers as a legacy entertainer and, for one last time, commanding the very stage he helped build from its inception.

“I haven’t been on the ESSENCE stage in a little while, but it feels good to be asked to come back,” Beverly says ahead of his final performance at our festival. The crooner and his iconic band closed out Sunday night during our inaugural music festival in 1995—and yearly for the next 14 years. Now, they will be honored on that same stage for all they’ve contributed to the culture. “When ESSENCE contacted us and wanted to honor me, I really couldn’t say no,” Beverly states. “We have a long and rich history. The ESSENCE Festival is a big part of my career.”

That illustrious career, punctuated by nine Certified Gold albums and multiple entries on the R&B charts, has taken place on stages across the world. Frankie Beverly, front and center in his all-white linen, accompanied by the legendary Maze, has dazzled audiences on dozens of tours for more than five decades. Since 1970, Beverly has bared his “Raw Soul” onstage, with his distinct soulful vocals always accompanied by the live band. Their sound has shaped the very concept of soul, for the millennial generation and beyond. But Beverly’s journey as a performer began long before that.

“I grew up in church, and even as a child, I loved singing,” he says of his upbringing in Philadelphia. “My grandparents loved to hear me sing. It took hold, and I found myself wanting to sing all the time.” That desire led him to form his own doo-wop group, the Blenders, in his teenage years. He later pivoted to team with a band instead, the Butlers. A move to California, a rebrand to the name Raw Soul and a chance encounter led to the band opening for Marvin Gaye on tour. The group eventually altered its name to Maze, at Gaye’s astute suggestion.

There’s no way Frankie Beverly and Maze could have predicted, that first time he and his bandmates hit the stage, the decades of memorable moments they would create together. But Beverly always knew he was home when he was singing.

Since his earliest days as a recording artist, Beverly has created anthems that resonate. From 1977’s “Happy Feelin’s” to 1980’s “Joy and Pain” to perhaps his most enduring hit, 1981’s “Before I Let Go,” ­Beverly’s music has always captured the elation, disappointment and mixed emotions of love found and lost. Just as powerful now as it was in the ’70s, his music has remained a staple, and tickets to his shows have been coveted over the decades. “I think my music has maintained a consistency across generations because God blessed me to write my music from the heart and not what the latest trend was,” the singer reflects. “It stays current, no matter what generation.”

Funnily enough, there’s a phenomenon of people who, while they’ve been familiar with “Before I Let Go” as a certified cookout classic for their entire lives, have never really paused to listen to its lyrics. As crowds shuffle along through predetermined steps of line dance and raise their voices in unison with Beverly’s smooth baritone at key points, many have missed that it is actually an anthem about relationship closure; told from the perspective of a man wishing bittersweet goodbye to a woman he loves, mourning the relationship he still isn’t quite certain why they couldn’t make work. But if so few truly realize what the song is about, why do we all love it so much? 

“Because it’s real life!” Beverly answers. “Sometimes you’re just too young to get the lyrics, but the music [still] gets you on your feet to dance.”

Indeed, the sound of Frankie Beverly & Maze gets everyone on their feet—from the toddlers who just discovered their balance in recent months, to the elders whose legs have carried them across many a dance floor over decades of celebration.

“As I said before, I don’t waiver with my music,” Beverly says. “I can’t say so much why it appeals to all generations, but I believe God made a path for my music to reach each generation.”

Beverly’s music has weathered the emergence of new genres, the disappearance of hard-copy media and the move to streaming services, and it will surely endure through whatever the next phase of musical innovation proves to be. But the singer, now 77, has chosen 2024 as the year he bids farewell to live performing.

His exit from center stage marks the end of an era defined by our aunties, uncles and peers filing into stadiums and amphitheaters, decked in all-white linen to emulate Frankie Beverly and Maze’s signature performance look. They were ready to sip wine, link arms and belt out classics along with the titan of soul—and to, as his silken vocals command, “feel that happy feelin’.”

But, as Beverly assures us, this goodbye isn’t forever. Though he’ll no longer tour, the group will rebrand as Maze Honoring Frankie Beverly—and he says he may pop in from time to time, to stay connected to his bandmates and to the loyal fan base that he feels has faithfully showered him with love and blessings for 50-plus years.

“Music is who I am,” he explains. “I’ve never done anything else. Music is the love of my life. You don’t exit from love.”

[kazuahhh]

There was a ballet performance today. And rin couldn’t care less about it. His parents pestered him to come because they are, of course invited. By the owner and organizer of the theatre.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I’m inaz, your emcee for the night. Today we are all gathered here to witness one of the biggest show ever created since decades ago! I won’t be making this long, can i have a round of applause before starting?” The said emcee gave a polite bow and smile before disappearing in the dark. Along with the claps of the audience.

Whispers were shared among the noble families. Afterall— this event is secured for the rich ones. Fending off money here and there, you cannot attend unless you have connections nor the money.

You’re shaking, anxiously. Your hands are sweating, you do not know what to do. You kept on pacing back and front, left and right. Until that is you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped at the sudden contact. “Goodness! You scared me.” You gave a shock look at your best friend— anri.

“Chill girl, you’ve got this. I’ll be watching okay? Just don’t mess this up. Especially with the royal family watching the performance.” Anri spoke with a warning but reassuring tone. Which helped you a bit.

Right. You’re one of the ballet performers. Picked out by the organizer of the event themselves. You are of course, a princess from C/N (country name). Meaning you’re not from here. You have foreign features. Which doesnt give away the etherealistic beauty that you have.

You are gorgeous. You are wearing a white corsen and a sparkling white tutu. A white ballerina dress. Representing a white swan. (IDK WHAT THE BALLERINA OUTFIT IS CALLED SORRY 😔)

Suddenly, you guys were called. Pulling you out of your trance, meaning it’s start of the show. Anri gave you a pat on the shoulder and a hug. “Fighting.” She smiled holding her fist up and so did you bump it with yours. You gave her a nervous smile before stepping off to the stage.

The whispers shared among the audience was quickly shut down when the lights went black. Which means the event is about to start.

You were the first one to step out. With a white headwear glistening among the crowds that shines so perfectly, with a simple make-up on that makes you stand out so much more. Perfectly complimenting your skin and features. Your heart was beating so fast. So fast and loud. But you payed it no mind.

Smiling and giving a bow before starting tour perfomance. While rin, was in his seat. Bored.

The performance started off perfect. You in your own pace, quickly forgetting about the thousands of people watching you. Ah. This. This is it. This is where you perfectly belong, your body sways with the music ever so elegantly. Making spins in the air right here and there, twirling in your own grace. You are a natural. And you exceed at your own potential.

While rin was watching you, well— pretty much cliché but you caught his interest and attention when you started dancing. Beautiful. He thinks, he is pretty much entertained until the other ballet dancers joined you. But you still stood out among them. Beautiful.

You are at the center. Spotlight is yours. Beautiful. He again, thinks.

The performance was over soon enough. Rin wants more— he craves more. More of you. You are so beautiful. So addicting that he cannot get enough. He hurriedly left his seat to go to the backstage. He wants to see you. He NEEDS to see you.

His parents calling off to him while he ignored them, his two feet dragging him much faster than it ever could. Why of course, he’s one of the countries pro footballer. A prince and a football player. Athletic.

You let out a sigh of relief, finally, it’s over. Countless of sleepless nights, whole day of practice until midnight. It is finally over. The audience liked your perfomance. A big— very big round of applause echoed throughout the whole theatre. It continued for about a solid 3 minutes. Nice. They weren’t disappointed.

You frantically left the backstage to meet up with your childhood friend whom you missed so dearly. Afraid that you wouldn’t be able to catch up to her. Dragging yourself outside you spotted her at the end of the corridor. Unaware of what’s about to happen.

Ouch. Hard. Stone-hard.

Before you knew it, you had bumped into someone, your butt on the floor and the gift you are holding was scattered around. “I am so sorry, i didn’t look where i was going. Please pardon my rudeness.” You bowed before getting up to pick up the gift.

You look up and saw a boy. He is about your age you think? He’s got defined and sharp features. His eyelashes more visible on the bottom of his eyes. He is

Beautiful

The both of you thought.

Rin’s breathe was stolen away from him. You are so

Beautiful.

“Um, mister? If you’d please move, i still have matters to attend.” You looked up to him. He is very tall. And rin snapped back to his senses. You are so cute. So so pretty, doe eyes, plump lips, tall but soft nose.

The perfect image of innocence.

Rin awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, feigning a glance at your cleavage that seems to want to get out of the tight corset. Making them very visible. He felt his face go red.

“I apologize, miss?” “Y/n” you shoot him a cute smile.

Beautiful.

“Miss y/n,” a ghost smile appearing on his face. The way your name rolled of his tongue got a whole army of butterfly dancing around your stomach.

Weird. You thought.

Beautiful,

Even your name sounds beautiful,

He thinks, yet, again.

“I saw your perfomance at the stage, it was wonderful, i love the way your body sways with the music. You looked very beautiful out there. I would pay to see that kind of performance again.” He complimented.

“Oh—! Uhm thank you, your majesty.” Of course you know him, the one and only, rin itoshi. You’ve heard of him.

“You’re very welcome, y/n.” A rare smile was planted on his lips. Which disappeared in a flash. Right. You were in a hurry. The gift placed between your oh so tiny hands.

Beautiful.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but i got to go, see you around your majesty.” You left with a quick bow. Not long enough, he yelled out a wait.

“Yes?” You turned around. “If it’s not much of a bother, i’ll see you later tonight at 9, yeah? I’ll be waiting backstage, and um maybe we can grab some dinner right after.” He recommended, followed quickly “that is, if you don’t mind, of course.” his voice was fast and kinda shaky.

You get what he meant.

“Sure, i’ll see you later, rin.” You flashed him a toothy smile and went off to your friend.

Rin could feel his heart thumping so loud. So fast. Out of his chest, letting out a tiny chuckle. He went straight back to the backstage. Glancing at his wristwatch which reads the time, 8:31.

He doesn’t mind waiting, after all, it’s you.

Note: pic is mine.

[spacenutspod]

2 min read Hubble Captures Infant Stars Transforming a Nebula This striking NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope image features the nebula RCW 7. ESA/Hubble & NASA, J. Tan (Chalmers University & University of Virginia), R. Fedriani This NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope image presents a visually striking collection of interstellar gas and dust. Named RCW 7, the nebula is located just over 5,300 light-years from Earth in the constellation Puppis. Nebulae are areas rich in the raw material needed to form new stars. Under the influence of gravity, parts of these molecular clouds collapse until they coalesce into very young, developing stars, called protostars, which are still surrounded by spinning discs of leftover gas and dust. The protostars forming in RCW 7 are particularly massive, giving off strongly ionizing radiation and fierce stellar winds that transformed the nebula into a H II region. H II regions are filled with hydrogen ions — H I refers to a normal hydrogen atom, while H II is hydrogen that lost its electron making it an ion. Ultraviolet radiation from the massive protostars excites the hydrogen in the nebula, causing it to emit light that gives this nebula its soft pinkish glow. The Hubble data in this image came from the study of a particularly massive protostellar binary named IRAS 07299-1651, still in its glowing cocoon of gas in the curling clouds toward the top of the image. To expose this star and its siblings, astronomers used Hubble’s Wide Field Camera 3 in near-infrared light. The massive protostars in this image are brightest in ultraviolet light, but they emit plenty of infrared light too. Infrared light’s longer wavelength lets it pass through much of the gas and dust in the cloud allowing Hubble to capture it. Many of the larger-looking stars in this image are foreground stars that are not part of the nebula. Instead, they sit between the nebula and our solar system. The creation of an H II region marks the beginning of the end for a molecular cloud like RCW 7. Within only a few million years, radiation and winds from the massive stars will gradually disperse the nebula’s gas — even more so as the most massive stars come to the end of their lives in supernova explosions. New stars in this nebula will incorporate only a fraction of the nebula’s gas, the rest will spread throughout the galaxy to eventually form new molecular clouds. Download the above image Explore More Hubble Space Telescope Hubble’s Nebulae Exploring the Birth of Stars Facebook logo @NASAHubble @NASAHubble Instagram logo @NASAHubble Media Contact: Claire AndreoliNASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center, Greenbelt, MDclaire.andreoli@nasa.gov Share Details Last Updated Jun 21, 2024 Editor Andrea Gianopoulos Location NASA Goddard Space Flight Center Related Terms Astrophysics Astrophysics Division Goddard Space Flight Center Hubble Space Telescope Missions Nebulae Protostars Stars The Universe Keep Exploring Discover More Topics From Hubble Hubble Space Telescope Since its 1990 launch, the Hubble Space Telescope has changed our fundamental understanding of the universe. Monster Black Holes Are Everywhere Seeing Light Echoes Hubble Images

[stlivingla]

Discover Newly Constructed Apartments for Rent in Koreatown with Stlivingla

Koreatown, often referred to as K-Town, is one of Los Angeles’ most vibrant neighborhoods, known for its rich culture, diverse dining options, and lively nightlife. If you're looking to make this bustling area your home, there's no better time than now. Newly constructed apartments in Koreatown offer a fresh, modern living experience, and Stlivingla is here to help you find the perfect rental. Why Choose Koreatown? Koreatown is a melting pot of cultures, offering a unique blend of traditional and modern lifestyles. With its central location, residents enjoy easy access to downtown Los Angeles, Hollywood, and other key areas. The neighborhood is also known for its:

Culinary Delights: From authentic Korean BBQ to trendy cafes, Koreatown is a food lover's paradise. Entertainment: K-Town is famous for its karaoke bars, nightclubs, and cultural events. Convenience: With multiple metro stations, bus routes, and proximity to major highways, Koreatown is one of the most accessible neighborhoods in LA. Benefits of Renting a Newly Constructed Apartment Newly constructed Apartments for rent in Koreatown come with several advantages that make them highly desirable:

Modern Amenities: Enjoy state-of-the-art kitchens, in-unit laundry, and energy-efficient appliances. Stylish Design: Expect contemporary interiors with open floor plans, large windows, and high-quality finishes. Eco-Friendly Features: Many new buildings are designed with sustainability in mind, offering green spaces, energy-saving systems, and environmentally friendly materials. Community Perks: Many new apartment complexes include shared amenities like fitness centers, rooftop lounges, and pet-friendly areas. Why Rent with Stlivingla? Stlivingla specializes in providing exceptional rental experiences in some of Los Angeles’ most sought-after neighborhoods. Here’s why you should choose us:

Extensive Listings: We offer a wide range of newly constructed apartments in Koreatown to suit different preferences and budgets. Expert Guidance: Our team is well-versed in the local market, ensuring you find an apartment that fits your lifestyle and needs. Personalized Service: We understand that finding the right home is a personal journey. Our dedicated agents work closely with you to match you with the perfect rental. Featured Apartments in Koreatown The Moderne: Experience luxury living with floor-to-ceiling windows, a rooftop pool, and a state-of-the-art fitness center. K-Town Luxe: This brand-new building offers spacious units with premium finishes, smart home technology, and panoramic city views. Urban Oasis: A perfect blend of comfort and style, featuring eco-friendly designs, community gardens, and pet-friendly spaces. How to Secure Your Dream Apartment Finding a newly constructed apartment in Koreatown is just a few steps away with Stlivingla:

Browse Listings: Visit our website to explore our current listings of newly constructed apartments in Koreatown. Schedule a Viewing: Contact us to set up a personalized tour of the properties you're interested in. Submit an Application: Once you’ve found the perfect place, our team will guide you through the application process to secure your new home. Conclusion Newly constructed Apartments for rent in Koreatown offer an unparalleled living experience in one of Los Angeles’ most exciting neighborhoods. With modern amenities, stylish designs, and a prime location, these apartments are perfect for anyone looking to enjoy the best of LA living. Stlivingla is committed to helping you find the ideal rental that suits your lifestyle and needs. Contact us today to start your journey to a new home in Koreatown.

[dumpsterrentmo]

dumpster.rent

Nestled in the heart of Missouri lies Columbia, a vibrant city renowned for its rich history, diverse culture, and bustling community. Founded in 1821, Columbia has evolved from a small frontier town into a dynamic hub of education, healthcare, and entertainment.

Columbia's history is intricately linked with the growth of education in the United States. Home to the University of Missouri, established in 1839, the city boasts a strong academic tradition. The university's picturesque campus, adorned with historic columns and red-brick buildings, stands as a centerpiece of Columbia's cultural landscape.

Beyond academia, Columbia thrives with a vibrant arts scene. The North Village Arts District serves as a haven for artists and creatives, showcasing galleries, studios, and vibrant street art. Each year, the True/False Film Festival draws cinephiles worldwide, celebrating documentary filmmaking amidst Columbia's eclectic downtown backdrop.

Surrounded by rolling hills and scenic vistas, Columbia offers abundant opportunities for outdoor enthusiasts. Stephens Lake Park, featuring a tranquil lake and scenic trails, is a beloved spot for picnics and family outings. The Katy Trail, a 240-mile rail-trail passing through Columbia, provides cyclists and hikers with a picturesque route through Missouri's countryside.

South of the city, Rock Bridge Memorial State Park is renowned for its natural beauty and geological wonders. Visitors can explore limestone caves, sinkholes, and the iconic Devil's Icebox, a natural tunnel system formed by underground streams.

As Missouri's fourth-largest city, Columbia thrives as an economic center. In addition to its educational institutions, the city hosts major healthcare providers, including the University of Missouri Health Care system. Its diverse economy spans manufacturing, technology, and agriculture, reflecting Columbia's role as a regional hub for commerce and innovation.

What truly distinguishes Columbia is its strong sense of community. Throughout the year, the city hosts a plethora of festivals and events, from the Roots N Blues N BBQ Festival celebrating local cuisine to the Heritage Festival highlighting cultural diversity. Residents take pride in Columbia's welcoming atmosphere, actively supporting local businesses and initiatives.

In conclusion, Columbia, Missouri, offers a distinctive blend of history, culture, and natural splendor. Whether exploring its historic downtown, partaking in a festival, or hiking through scenic parks, Columbia warmly invites visitors to experience Midwestern hospitality in a setting that embraces both tradition and innovation.

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At dumpster.rent, we specialize in dependable and cost-effective dumpster rental solutions across the broader Mid-Missouri region. Our mission is to deliver prompt, professional service, ensuring that whether you're overseeing a construction endeavor, tidying up your residence, or coordinating a local gathering, we have the ideal dumpster for your requirements. Selecting the right dumpster for your project is simple with dumpster.rent. Begin by assessing your needs, taking into consideration the type and volume of materials you plan to dispose of. Ensure you have a suitable location prepared, considering accessibility for loading and unloading. Stay mindful of weight restrictions, rental durations, and local regulations to avoid any complications during your project. We prioritize environmentally friendly waste management practices, ensuring responsible disposal handling. With our expertise and comprehensive services, finding the perfect dumpster for your project is straightforward. Contact us today to discuss your needs and secure your dumpster rental hassle-free.

Contact: dumpster.rent 711 Spring Valley Rd, Columbia, MO 65203, United States WJWR+F7 Columbia, Missouri, United States (660) 247–3972 https://www.dumpster.rent

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[thesamsaraholidays]

Wonders of Leh Ladakh with The Samsara Holidays: Your Ultimate B2B Partner

Explore Leh Ladakh like never before with The Samsara Holidays' exclusive B2B packages!

Ladakh's unique landscapes, rich cultural heritage, and adventurous opportunities make it a popular destination for nature lovers, adventure enthusiasts, and those seeking a glimpse into Tibetan-Buddhist culture.

Ladakh is a region in the northernmost part of India, located in the state of Jammu and Kashmir. It is renowned for its stunning landscapes, high-altitude mountain passes, ancient monasteries, and unique cultural heritage. 

Here is some information about Ladakh:

Geographical Location: Ladakh is situated in the Indian Himalayas, bordered by Pakistan to the west and China to the east. It is nestled between the Karakoram and Great Himalayan mountain ranges.

Capital: The capital of Ladakh is Leh, which is located at an altitude of around 3,500 meters (11,500 feet) above sea level. Leh serves as the administrative and cultural center of the region.

Landscapes: Ladakh is known for its breathtaking landscapes, including rugged mountains, vast barren valleys, deep gorges, and crystal-clear lakes. The region is often referred to as the "Land of High Passes" due to its numerous mountain passes, such as Khardung La and Chang La, which offer spectacular views.

Buddhist Influence: Ladakh has a strong Buddhist influence, with numerous ancient monasteries scattered across the region. These monasteries, such as Hemis, Thiksey, and Alchi, are not only religious centers but also architectural marvels, showcasing intricate artwork and valuable Buddhist relics.

Adventure Tourism: Ladakh attracts adventure enthusiasts from around the world. It offers various thrilling activities, including trekking, mountaineering, river rafting, and biking. The challenging terrain and high-altitude passes provide opportunities for adrenaline-pumping adventures.

Festivals: Ladakh celebrates several vibrant festivals that showcase the region's cultural traditions. The most famous festival is the Hemis Festival, held at Hemis Monastery, featuring colorful masked dances, music, and rituals. Other notable festivals include Losar (Tibetan New Year) and Dosmoche.

Local Cuisine: Ladakhi cuisine is influenced by Tibetan and Central Asian flavors. Popular dishes include Thukpa (noodle soup), Momos (steamed dumplings), Skyu (a hearty stew), and Butter Tea. The cuisine often incorporates locally grown barley, wheat, vegetables, and dairy products.

Climate: Ladakh experiences a cold desert climate due to its high altitude. Summers (June to September) are mild with pleasant daytime temperatures, while winters (October to april) are extremely cold, and many areas become inaccessible due to heavy snowfall.

Accessibility: Ladakh can be accessed by road and air. Major Indian cities are connected to the region by the Kushok Bakula Rimpochee Airport in Leh. The two primary highways that link Ladakh to the rest of the nation are the Leh-Manali Highway and the Srinagar-Leh Highway.

Inner Line Permit: To access some restricted regions in Ladakh, visitors who are not nationals or residents of India must get an Inner Line Permit (ILP). The Leh government's authority or authorized travel agencies can provide the permit.

Discover why The Samsara Holidays is your go-to choice for unforgettable B2B experiences in Leh Ladakh.

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[indiaalphawhiskey]

Escaping Eden | Dark Soulmate AU

this sounds like my next obsession, can i pretty please have more thank you my queen

But of course! 😘

🦚 Escaping Eden

Of course Louis’ match was the heart of his five-year op – the center, the star, the Nicole fucking Kidman of an international harem – because when did anything at MI6 ever go according to bloody plan?

The sight he was met with pulled a quiet, breathless ‘fuck’ from his throat. There, on simple, white sheets, a man lay sleeping. Unlike the others, his wrists were unbound, his hands tucked sweetly between his cheek and the pillow. Artificial moonlight poured over his form, little beams and slivers glittering where they weaved themselves into the rich brown of his curls. A tender pink flush dusted the tops of his cheekbones, marring the creamy skin where it met the edge of his black blindfold.

Louis let his eyes rove freely across his features, counting each gentle ebb and flow of breath that passed between those startlingly plump lips.

Unconsciously, his gaze drifted; skittered down crests, and cusps, and curves. Louis’ eyes followed them devotedly, from the tops of his shoulders, down the soft line of his spine; watched them dip and then rise up, up, up the swell of the sweetest little arse Louis had ever seen – bouncy, milky, flesh encased in sheer, lavender panties that were peppered with tiny, tiny hearts. Without warning, the captivating vision in front Louis began to go soft at the edges, an entirely different kind of fantasy coming to life in his mind.

In this one, this beautiful boy had waited for him faithfully all night, poised and perfect, until he finally succumbed to sleep. His sweet figure now lay peaceful and vulnerable against familiar sheets that were worn with use; his nose pressed gently into a pillow that smelled faintly of shampoo and of home.

Louis felt himself melt slightly at the thought, at this glimpse of the simple reality he secretly longed for. His heart skipped two beats in rapid succession as his eyes drank in Sparrow’s uniquely humble pose. There was a virginal obedience about him that was both innocent and maddeningly obscene – an allure that hinted it could exist both in this den of temptation, and out of it, in the world Louis really lived.

A million words came to Louis’ mind, then – words only attributed to galaxies and planets, to heavenly bodies, to realities that were so breathtaking, their existence was miracle enough.

Exquisite. Ethereal. Divine and delicate. They echoed in Louis’ head, overwhelming him. For the first time that night, he felt his staunch composure being pulled apart, replaced with an irrational, urgent need to be close, to reach out, to touch this stranger.

He excused his sudden weakness by telling himself it was strictly scientific – that he needed to make contact to ground himself, lest he be drowned by the night’s illusions. And so, he sat on the bed as carefully as he could manage, and ran his thumb tenderly down Sparrow’s cheek and across his bottom lip. He felt his breath catch at the contact, a part of him surprised that Sparrow’s form didn’t just fade away.

Louis took a beat to recover, and then pressed down gently on the plump, pink flesh. He stared, transfixed, as Sparrow stirred slowly, exactly as though Louis had roused him from sleep. The cotton on the pillow shifted slightly with the drowsy lift of his head, and his lips pursed purposefully to leave a kiss on the pad of Louis’ thumb.

Louis’ eyes widened in surprise and he barely managed to swallow his gasp, his hand frozen where it hovered, still touching Sparrow’s lips. He felt it on his skin when Sparrow let out a warm breath, felt like he could caress the words he spoke as they danced off his tongue. “I’ve been waiting for you,” Sparrow admitted, with a breathy, dreamy moan.

It was said so softy that a gust of wind could have carried it away.

I’ve been waiting for you.

At first, the words were tender as they echoed in Louis’ mind, warm and strangely familiar. They seemed to tug gently at his memory, pulling his consciousness through thick, syrupy fog towards… something. And then it clicked, and all at once, the world around him shattered.

He snatched his hand away from Sparrow’s lips like he had touched an open flame – an apt description, considering the way the skin on his thigh was searing with heat.

He clutched at it now like an open stab wound he desperately had to stop from bleeding out, only it was worse.

No, he prayed. Please, no.

But even as he thought it, the cursive letters formed in his mind, clear and sharp. How could they not, when he had them memorized? He could forge them perfectly, had spent his youth tracing and re-tracing them, down to the subtle way the ‘y’ crooked left ever so slightly.

His mark.

[marcusbutnotgarvey]

Late Chrysanthemums

Late Chrysanthemums was a pretty hard watch. I found this mostly because I struggled to find the underlying purpose of the film. Some of the notable features I picked up was that this story was centered around women. All three of the main women being Geisha’s in the past, but still maintaining contact with each other if only for financial reasons. I get a sense through the film that the director seems to pain that the lives of the women go bad without them having husbands or a man in their life. Okin for instance goes around lending money and asking for repayment. She also does not have any children and many of the other characters ridicule her for this. Otomi has a daughter, but she is seen either gambling her money away or drinking it away with alcohol. Her daughter does not even see her off as she gets married away. This again has to do with her mother always asking her for money. Finally, Tamae has her son, but does not seem to ever have enough money to do anything with it. This must come from paying the others around her.

I found it very amusing that the character Okin (Haruko Sugimura), which if you choose the right kanji can be literally read as money, was the same actor from Tokyo Story. She is very money centric and has a cruel air about her. She plays such a fantastic part of being the disliked character, and it is only after watching this film that I see how perfectly she portrays this role. She questions the motives of everyone around her except for the deaf girl who lives in her home with her. This shows her untrusting nature, likely developed through the pursuit of money.

Another interesting thing I gathered from the film was that each of the women with children seemed to have made a trade for pursuing their own happiness while they were young. In exchange for this, they have neglected the development of their children, and have become almost resented by them. The children both seem to have some care for their mothers, but not enough to keep them around. With this in mind, I think the director is trying to portray the need for unselfishness in life. We should not be consumed with our own pleasures and desires because, this is will lead to some other unrecognized area in our life that does not receive the necessary attention. For Otomi and Tamae, the thrill of traveling and being renowned as a Geisha topped raising their children. For Okin, wanting to engage in love affairs and focusing on getting rich, has turned her money-hungry and unable to find real love.

[ladyanput]

Blinded By Green Ch 1

Swords clashed, the sound of the metal making contact rang throughout the dojo. Two figures stood in the center of the room, each taking a step backwards and circling, neither letting the other out of sight. 

The taller of the two rushed forward then, arms over head, ready to strike with the blade. But the shorter moved faster, swiping his feet out from under him, sending him sprawling on his back with a soft grunt. When the man looked up, the smaller one held the tip of her blade right at his forehead. He could see the fierce green eyes from the slit in her mask. 

“Fantastic! You are really improving!” Talia stepped forward and clapped her hands as the smaller figure turned and bowed to her. A smile graced her lips as she set a hand on the black clad shoulder. “I must say, you are advancing rather quickly. Much more than I expected.”

“It is all thanks to yours and the League’s considerable training.” Marinette reached and pulled off her mask. Her dark hair was damp with sweat, pulled back in a tail, her pale skin slightly flushed from the intense training she had been subject to. “Though I do believe I need to work on my agility a bit more. He almost got me by the cheek during the first round.”

Talia kept her smile as she watched as the man on the mat was helped up and escorted towards the infirmary, though the edges of her smile tightened a fraction. 

“Still much better than before. You may go and bathe now. I expect to see you before dawn before your mission.”

“Good evening, Talia.” Marinette bowed to her once again, then promptly made her way to the exit of the dojo. She felt the familiar ache of her body, of her muscles that had been pushed to their limits and crying out in protest. It had become a welcome feeling. On her way out, she grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler, greeting a few other assassins she passed, before turning down a hall, all alone.

Her feet barely made any noise as she made her way through the dimly lit halls towards her room. She locked her door behind her and began to strip off her uniform one she went inside. After a nice hot shower, she made her way over to the bed and took a seat, finally letting out a soft groan. 

For the past three months, she had been training as if her life depended on it, in which it had. Talia had brought her back from death, from a place that not many ever really came back from. She had heard of the injustice that Marinette had faced, at the hands of her own son, and was determined to balance out the scales.

Damian. The thought of him alone had her trembling with rage,  had her grinding her teeth and her skin growing hot. She gripped the thin sheets of her bed, her breathing growing heaving as the rage grew. 

“That bastard..” She hissed, raising her hand, about to throw the bottle of water at her mirror, when she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure. Her eyes narrowed as she eyed the woman standing at the other end of the room, the woman that had seemed to be appearing more and more. She was tall, a brunette but her features were blurry, unfocused. The only feature she could make out was her unfathomably purple eyes. 

“Rich boys don’t care about anyone but themselves. That boy isn’t worth the tears, the gifts, the stress. He never deserved you to begin with.” The warm voice that left the woman's mouth rubbed against Marinette’s skin like sandpaper. 

“You don’t need to tell me twice, specter. I’m no longer a fool, you do not need to throw my mistakes, my foolishness back into my face!" Marinette was on her feet once again, ignoring the screaming pain in her muscles. "Leave, go away! I am not foolish anymore, I am not blind! My sight is clear and I shall even the scores!"

"Marinette.. Who are you talking to?"

Marinette straightened abruptly and faced the doorway, fierce eyes meeting Talia's. She then blinked and returned her face to the purple eyed woman, only to find where she had stood completely empty.

"No one. I was just thinking about… Past mistakes and I got a bit too heated." Marinette lied with ease as she once again took a seat on her bed, beginning to dry her hair with her towel. The fire in her eyes was snuffed out, soon concealed behind the ice cold steel she always had in her gaze now. "What can I do for you? Is something wrong with the plans for tomorrow?"

"Not at all. I merely came to see you." Talia stepped deeper into the room, closing the door behind her. Her white dress hid nothing of her body, from what Marinette could notice, always showing off a large expanse of leg. Talia had told her that she had worked hard to make her body look like this, so why not show it off? Marinette merely averted her eyes and set down her now crushed bottle of water.

"I.. See." These evening visits had happened ever since Marinette had arrived at the League of Assassins a few months ago, when Talia had put her in the Lazarus pit.. "What did you want to talk about tonight?"

"Nothing of importance. No, keep your hair down,I will attend to it." Talia set her hand over Marinette's, stopping her from putting it up into a ponytail.

Soon Talia was seated behind Marinette, running a comb through the dark, silken tresses of her newest student. She smiled as she carefully began to twist it into a braid. 

“Do you believe you are prepared for tomorrow?” She broke the silence as she soon tied the long hair off, smoothing the braid with her hand. 

"Of course I will. Your teachings have shown me where I have lacked. If I do not do well, I will fail you… And Talia, I owe you every breath that I breathe, I will never fail you."

"I know that you will not fail me." Talia placed her hands on the younger girl's shoulders. Marinette didn't even flinch when she felt the bruising grip, the manicured nails dig ever so slightly into her skin. "You know the consequences if you do."

"I will not fail." Marinette set her jaw, her eyes suddenly blazing with a determination that made Talia smile.

"I should expect not. Taking your first life will be as easy as the rest."

…

Soft footsteps echoed through the quiet museum. Lights were on here and there, highlighting the artifacts tucked away in the polished display cases, jewels glittering and polished ivory having an alluring sheen in the lights.

But the man that neared the display case showing an array of ancient jewelry from some foreign queen wasn't worried much about the tidiness of the display, not as he lifted the crowbar over his head and shattered the glass.

He ignored the start of the blaring alarms, shoving the jewelry in the duffle bag he had strapped over his shoulder, but let out a cry of surprise when someone dropped down from the ceiling behind him and grabbed him by the collar. He was lifted up and set flying, slamming and destroying another display case.

The thief lifted his gaze, biting back a groan as he sat up, feeling the small bits of glass having torn through his clothing, to stare at the person who had thrown him, and met the glowing green eyes of the domino mask.

Tadmir stepped forward, unsheathing his sword as he drew closer to the criminal, who was in such a shocked state that he barely had time to react before the tip of the blade was pressing against his throat. 

He was an imposing figure, this new vigilante that had appeared in place of Robin. A tall figure, clad in all black in an outfit that had echoes of his past life of violence and bloodshed, save for the dark green accents, the emblem of a green paw print on his left pectoral, or the hooded cowl pulled over his head making the faint outline of cat ears on his head. 

"You fools really don’t learn. You keep pulling the same stunts, the same tired plots but you never learn.” He pressed the tip of the blade to the thief's neck, the sharp blade drawing forth the man's crimson blood. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't hack your worthless body to pieces and put your head on a spike, to warn your fellow thieves."

"I- I have a family and kids! I was just doing this to get money for my sick wife!" The thief stammered out, his hands beginning to shake as he held them in the air. 

Tadmir was silent, so silent that the thief could hear his own heart hammering against his ribs, his blood pumping so hard it almost deafened him.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Tadmir raised his blade. The thief let out a high pitched screech before his eyes rolled back into his head. He fell like dead weight to the floor with his head bouncing off of the tile floor so hard that Tadmir had to suppress a flinch. It sounded like a bowling ball hitting the floor.

"Christ Tadmir, what the hell was that about?" The cat hero didn’t turn back when he heard Nightwing’s voice. He just kept his cold glare on the thief that was passed out at his feet. “You could have killed the man!”

"If I did I would be doing the world a great service, wouldn't I?" Tadmir scowled at the other vigilante before he returned his gaze to the man sprawled out on the floor. "That way he will not be able to leech off of the underbelly of the city."

“You know the damned rule. Just pick him up and take him down to the station like we always do.” Nightwing had to hold back from snapping. It had been like this every night since Tadmir went back on patrol duty. It reminded him of the Damien he had met all of those years ago, the little kid so full of violence, of his own twisted way of doing things. Quick to the kill and the maiming. 

And that scared him. 

Damien hadn’t even known Marinette for that long, by her death it had been a few months. Yet he acted as if he had lost the one most important person in the world. Don’t get him wrong, Dick knew that losing someone could hurt, that it could eat you up inside and send you spiraling down a dark path that was difficult to stray from. 

But then again, he didn’t know what all happened between the two. And he’d never say these feelings aloud, he wasn’t heartless, but he needed to do something to stop Tadmir on his violent path. 

“.. Diana will be here in a few days, Tadmir. Perhaps you should give the ring to her, at least for a little while. You haven’t really taken the time to properly grieve-” Nightwing was cut off by Tadmir rounding on him, his eyes glowing fierce green in the dark. 

“This was the last thing she gave me! It is what she trusted me to use to protect the innocent!” He seethed, his claws flexing now. But when he saw Nightwing tense, he took a step back and forced himself to relax. “Do not tell me how to grieve. Did you not grieve by going after the people responsible for the death of your parents?"

"Tadmir, I-"

"I don't even have that! She was murdered, she died alone on that rooftop and I wasn't there to save her! And I don't even know who did it, there was no evidence, no leads!" He explained, his hands curling into fists now. He felt the tears burning his eyes but refused to let his older brother notice the change. "So keep your mouth shut unless you want me to say something I regret."

Nightwing said nothing as his younger brother stormed off, leaving him and the thief behind. 

Once he was out of the building, Tadmir ran. He ran until his muscles ached, until his lungs burned. He ran until he was far, far away from the activity. He stepped into an empty alleyway and suddenly his transformation dropped. 

Plagg could only watch helplessly as he leaned against the wall, slid down it, and buried his face in his hands. All he could think to do was fly over and give him a hug on his wrist. 

Marinette was gone and Damien mourned at what could have been. And what he had failed to do. 

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