#Direct Seller Tips

[avonmom]

SELL AVON WITH ATTRACTION MARKETING

Learn how to implement attraction marketing to grow your small business. #JenAntunesBeauty #AttractionMarketing #MarketingTips #AvonRepTips #SellAvonTips #SmallBusinessTips

Sell Avon with Attraction Marketing The first couple years of my Avon business, I really struggled with the inner conflict of wanting to market, share & grow my Avon business and not be someone who was a nuisance, as many direct sales consultants were accused of at that time. Due to getting pregnant in 2016 & having a difficult pregnancy, I decided to transition my business to be primarily…

[directsellingnow]

Network Marketing Tips: ये 14 नियम बदल देंगे आपकी जिंदगी; Dr. Debi Prasad Acharjya

Network Marketing Tips: जिंदगी challenges और opportunities की एक complex picture है, जो अक्सर uncertainties के साथ आती है। सफलता और happiness की हमारी खोज में, हमें countless obstacles का सामना करना पड़ता है जिनके लिए effective problem-solving, critical decision-making और personal growth की आवश्यकता होती है। पूरे इतिहास में, मनुष्य ने अपने collective knowledge को timeless laws में बदल दिया है –…

[leonardcohenofficial]

vinyl + turntable basic info / general tips

while i am by no means a real audiophile or vinyl expert here are some tips that have worked for me over my almost two decades of collecting!

turntables + speakers

do not buy suitcase players. i cannot overstate this enough. do not buy suitcase players. the all-in-one players are generally cheaper, but there isn't enough support from the platter because they are smaller than 12 inch LPs. this can lead to shitty sound quality, the needle can fall out of the groove, and you can actually break your records. save up and pay a little more and get a proper turntable

there is a lot of debate about belt vs. direct drive turntables (belt drive turntables use a belt to spin the turntable while direct drive turntables have the motor directly under the platter) and which is better. very generally speaking if you want better sound quality, belt drive is the way to go; if you want a player that's a little easier to use that's also a little more durable, direct drive is a better option (most DJ turntables are also direct drive, as a side note)

i currently have three turntables and they are all audio-technica, which is a well respected brand (especially for beginners)—i have an AT-LP60X ($149) which is a belt driven player, as well as two AT-LP120XUSB ($349 each) which i use for practicing DJing/selecting. i also have a stanton M.203 mixer (insane to me that it's listed for $350 on amazon, i paid eighty bucks for mine on ebay), audio-technica ATH-M20x headphones (they were a gift but are listed for $49 on amazon) and a set of edifier R1280DB bluetooth speakers ($149). the speakers are hooked up directly into my mixer, but because both the speakers and the AT-LP60X are bluetooth, i can also play records on that turntable too

change your needle! general rule of thumb is to replace your needle every thousand hours of listening; for the average person if you change it once a year you should be good, i'm on the cautious side and change them every six months

i really like my setup; it's on the cheaper side when it comes to "grownup" gear but true audiophiles would probably scoff at my basics. regardless of what you end up getting, a decent turntable that doesn't have the speakers built in that fits within your budget and a good set of speaker or headphones is all you need

buying records

any time that you can, i recommend buying vinyl directly from the artist! whether it's through bandcamp their website or at a show i think it's better to buy direct when you can (and often times it's cheaper than buying through a third party)

when you can, buy local. not only is it good to support independently owned shops, developing a relationship with local music people is great and if they're good they'll start to know you/your tastes. it also allows you to get good at crate digging, because you never know what you're going to find in a dollar section

utilize listening stations if the store has them! people can be pretty fast and loose with grading used records, so it's better to listen to it and see if the audio quality corresponds with the price (i don't always buy mint/nearly mint records and can tolerate a fair amount of noise but not if i'm being ripped off lmfao)

look things up on discogs to see if you're getting ripped off. not only is discogs great for keeping track of your collection (also you can friend me here!), the online marketplace is great for checking average sale prices for a given release. also handy for seeing how rare a release is!

buying records on discogs can be a crapshoot, ebay even more so. read seller's reviews; if there's feedback that they generally grade conservatively, that's a good thing

i have such a large collection that maintaining a record of what i have is really necessary; discogs is really fantastic for this. you can even scan barcodes on specific releases to find them through the discogs app! it's super handy for me as sometimes i forget that i have certain albums already and end up buying multiple copies and having to get rid of them (i need to get better at cataloguing immediately after i get new stuff, i currently have about forty five records i still need to add lmfao)

storing + maintaining records

keep your records clean! get a good cleaning kit and have microfiber cloths on hand to keep your vinyl as dust free as possible. also use those storage sleeves, it makes a different in keeping your records cleaner longer

a general rule of vinyl storage that i learned from the owner of the shop that i've been going to since i was nine years old is to store them in less than 70 degrees F environments with less than 70% humidity (funnily enough this is apparently the same rule for cigars)

i recommend those ikea square storage bookcases, as they're generally study, aren't too expensive, are pretty easy to put together, and hold a lot of records (do not store your records in milk crates long term)

actually listen to your records! there are very few releases i keep sealed for the sake of keeping them in mint condition. vinyl can be a very expensive habit (800+ records later i am living proof lol) but it's no fun to keep them sitting around. have fun collecting and play your music!

[levans44]

Lavender Haze

after a family dinner goes south, ransom tries to make it up to you. SMUT, 18+ only

He raises the subject on a lazy Sunday morning, over toasted English muffins and runny eggs on his sunny kitchen island.

Throws out the question like it’s a casual suggestion, but you know it’s a bigger deal than he’s letting on—in the short time you’ve known Ransom Drysdale, you’ve managed to pick up on a few of his tells: a quick tug at his collar, tongue darting across his bottom lip as he glances off to the side. 

You know I’d rather die than sit through dinner alone. 

And when it finally sinks in that your boyfriend of barely 2 months was asking you to dinner at his family’s house, you have to take an extra long sip of coffee to process what it really means. 

Though you barely knew anything about Ransom’s family, you’ve heard enough horror stories about the Drysdales and Thrombeys to last you a lifetime.  

Yet, you can tell from the way Ransom’s avoiding eye contact, and the way he’s been nudging the food on his plate for the last half hour, that this means something to him (and that a lot of other things mean something to him too, despite his indifferent exterior). So, you respond with a sweet ‘I’d love to, Ran,’  leaning over the marble island to seal your promise with a kiss. 

Dinner at the Thrombey manor is about as pretentious and droll as you’d expected. From the tactless queries about your family’s tax bracket to the seemingly light-hearted jabs at your career—a PhD, huh? So that must mean kids are out of the question?—the evening is littered with tense moments from the first course right up until dessert. Yet, you evade every invasive question with a breezy answer and sweet smile, reaching under the table to squeeze Ransom’s hand whenever you see him stiffen in your periphery, lips twitching with simmering rage.  

Promise me you’re not gonna let them get to you.

You’d reminded him at the entrance of the mansion, straightening out the edges of his collar with a calm smile.

And Ransom keeps his promise for the entirety of the dinner, refraining from sarcastic commentary to the point where Linda Drysdale starts eyeing her son with an inquisitive brow. 

It’s not until after dinner, when Walt Thrombey ceremoniously suggests drinks and cigars in the drawing room, that things start heading south. 

You should’ve seen it coming—all that jealously and insecurity brewing inside Harlan’s youngest son, always walking on eggshells around his dad just to keep his job at the publishing company. Forever envious of the potential that Harlan only sees in Ransom. 

So, how’s my favorite nephew doing?

Walt sighs, sinking back in his armchair with a Cuban cigar between his lips. Uncorks the extravagant 40-year old Cognac he’s been saving—anything to get a rise out ofthe black sheep of the family.  

And surely enough, it only takes a couple drinks before the backhanded comments start flowing faster than the alcohol. A snarky jab at Ransom’s car, his job. 

How’s that freelance… writer thing going, Ransom?

Then rubs the latest best-sellers from his publishing company all over your boyfriend’s face.

And when none of that manages to get a rise out of Ransom, Walt’s gaze shifts over to you. Grins smugly around his cigar he takes a long puff.  

He shrouds the room in smoke, directing a slurred question right over at Ransom as if you aren’t even there:

So. Another flavor of the month, huh Ransom?  How long do you think this one’s gonna last?

Even Richard Drysdale bristles in his seat, startled. 

And you swear you see red flash across Ransom’s face as the room falls silent. 

You murmur Ransom’s name, reaching over to squeeze his arm. But he beats you to the punch—grabbing your hand in one swift moment, lurching out of his seat and nearly tipping the couch over. 

Eat shit, Walt.

With those words, he storms out of the room, you in tow. Slams the door behind you both, sealing the frenzy of bickering that erupts from the rest of the family:

Jesus, Walt, you really had to say that?

Ransom, honey, please—don’t go. 

Really, Walter?

Oh come on, Lin, you know I was kidding!  

Ransom remains silent the whole drive back, gravel crunching under the wheels of his beemer as he pulls up to his driveway. Instead of asking him to talk, you decide to let him have his space, slipping upstairs for a warm shower. God knows you needed it, after all the dirty looks Joni and Donna were flashing your way when they thought you weren’t looking.

When you walk back downstairs, you find Ransom hunched over the kitchen island, nursing a bottle of beer. 

Because despite all the top shelf liquors paraded around during dinner tonight, you know Ransom’s drink of choice has always been beer.

Craft beer, to be more precise. In fact, he’s a little bit of a beer geek—growlers lining up his shelves, his fridge stocked with bottles from the best microbreweries around New England. 

He pops open the top of what looks like his third drink, tossing the cap alongside the empty bottles of Treehouse littered atop his counter. 

You approach him, feet sliding quietly across the wooden floor as you let your hair down, toweling off the wet ends. 

Ran.

He remains silent, gaze fixed on the marble countertop as he takes another swig of his beer. 

Ransom, are you still upset about what Walt said?

When he still remains motionless, you sigh, pursing your lips as you take another step forward. 

He was just drunk. It didn’t bother me, really.  

Slowly, he glances over at you. And when his blurry eyes come into focus, they flit down your frame. He finally opens his mouth, voice barely above a whisper. 

That my sweater?

Hmm? 

You pause, frowning at the question, and glance down at the knitted beige sweater enveloping your frame—his sweater, covered in so many holes and snagged threads that you’d always had poked fun at him for even keeping it around.

Oh, yeah, do you mind if borrow it? I found it in—

You’re suddenly interrupted by a dull ‘clang’ as he drop his beer down on the counter, rushing forward toward you. His hands search desperately for your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips meet yours in a frenzied kiss.  

He pulls you back into the kitchen, crowding you between the counter and his giant frame. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling his heavy breaths against your skin as his lips drag down your neck, nimble fingers dipping under the hem of your sweater. And when his palms snake around the back of your thighs, hoisting you up on the marble surface, you gasp against his mouth, gripping at his shoulders for balance.

Ran, w-what are you doing?

And without missing a beat, you feel him murmur into your pulse point:

Loving you.

Taken aback by his shameless affection, because Ransom’s never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeves, you blush, eyes flitting up to the ceiling. 

Y-you’re drunk.

Maybe.  

He hums, hands traveling underneath your sweater to grip at your hips, your waist, pulling you even closer to where he needs you most. 

But I’ve never felt more fucking lucid in my life.

He looks you dead in the eyes, wetting two of his digits with his mouth before he reaches down.

Ran. 

You murmur aimlessly into his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut at the way his palm slides against your sex, thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit as his fingers sink into your heat.

And when he decides you’ve taken enough of his torment, he lays you back on the marble countertop, loose magazines and beer bottles toppling to the floor as he carelessly shoves them aside. Shucks the sweater up to your neck so your tits are on full display, smiling at the way it makes you whine, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with desperation.

The sharp lines of his face softened by something other than just the alcohol, his gaze flits down to the apex of your thighs, mouth inching southward as he murmurs: 

You want me here, darling? 

He spreads your legs wide open, arms snaking around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the counter.

Tongue pressed flat against your clit as he sinks two fingers into your heat, trying to coax more of those pretty little whimpers out of your mouth. Degrades you just a smidge, smirking into your cunt:

Fuck, look at you in my sweater. 

Nose digging into your mound as he stares up hungrily, chasing your sweetness on his tongue. 

C’mon, play with those pretty tits for me.

Pulls back just as your head starts lolling over to one side, a telltale sign that you’re on the brink. With your lips buried into the soft material of his sweater, you start to babble incoherently, broken syllables of baby, and please, and fuck.

You close, darling? 

You meet his eyes from between your legs, squirming as you nod under his gaze. 

p-please—Ran, need, need ta…

Mm, you’re gonna have to beg louder than that, sweetheart.

He shakes his head, flashing you a shit-eating grin as he draws feather-light circles over your clit, just enough to keep you teetering over the edge.

Please, Ransom, fuck me, I—

And when he finally lets you come, it’s the kind of toe-curling, back-arching-off-the counter orgasm that wipes your mind clean of everything that’s happened that evening. The noise that escapes your mouth is enough to reach his neighbors from down the road, his fingers curling and hitting that spot just right, flooding you with waves after waves of pleasure. 

Once you finally come to, he clambers over you with a hungry snarl, giving you a bruising kiss. 

You pull back, blinking up at him with an exhausted laugh as you wipe the wetness off his chin with your thumb.  

He leans back down with a lazy smile, giving you another quick peck before muttering against your lips:

Move in with me.

You frown, the abruptness of his words knocking out whatever breath is left in you.

What?

He gazes back silently, expression unwavering despite the incredulous look on your face. 

Mind still half-gone, you try to wrap your head around his words, eyes widening when it fully sinks in. 

B-but, Ran, my dissertation—

—then we’ll get a place in Cambridge, I don’t care. 

He seals his lips with a determined grin, and you know he’s made up his mind. Now, he’d do anything to try and convince you too.

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn about Ransom Drysdale, it’s that he never gives up easy.

He reaches forward, cupping your cheek in his palm. And the smug smile on his pretty pink lips is indication that he already knows—knows that you don’t any convincing in the first place.

Well, why don’t you think on it while I…

He smiles, crossing your ankles behind his hips as he pulls you down, hoisting you off the counter. 

…give you a proper fucking upstairs?

author's note: aaand what was supposed to be a headcanon/drabble situation turned into a one shot. I just liked the setup leading up to the actual smut too much to let it go! Also, I think this is the first ransom fic I’ve ever posted?! Lmk what you think!

P.S. the point about Ransom being a beer geek is 100% canon—a fascinating tidbit that makes his character that much more endearing. (peep the new england craft beers in this scene and this hidden secret abt the position of the beer bottles!! rian johnson is truly a mastermind.)

(read pt.1 w/ steve and frank here!)

[the-wayside]

the me i am with you. 2.6k. gen. short missing scene between when wansarut and sakuna met to when they started to spend time together. canon-ish compliant. wansarut in this presents as male in the human world, but is still a female nagini and uses female pronouns to refer to herself.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“What would it matter, Master Garuda?”

The first time she encounters Master Garuda after she saved him, she stumbles wordlessly, confused and frowning as he looks down at her on the bank of the river. They are both dressed as they were, in whites and greens.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

The silence is long and drawn out but Wansarut doesn’t feel uncomfortable to have him look at her. His eyes are crinkled at the corners as he squints at her as if he can somehow read it on her skin. She wills herself not to look down. This male form to her is as known as her Nagini tail. Her name is secret and hidden, no matter who requests it.

“What would it matter, Master Garuda?” She tips her chin up, trying to make herself taller and bigger even though she’s lower down and he towers over her. “Are we not all the same to you?”

Gods are not born to look remorseful, but she thinks that’s what she sees on his face as he offers her his hand to help her up onto the flat. She doesn’t take it. Every step from the river fills her with apprehension.

He doesn’t stop her as she walks past him, further into the forest. He doesn’t trail her either. She wonders after walking for a time if such a simple rejection might anger Master Garuda further and set more attacks in motion. The thought stills her and seizes her heart, her whole body turning back on instinct. He isn’t there when she returns but there is a single white feather at the base of the tree near where he stood.

***

Wansarut is in the village today. It’s market day for the humans and the hustle and bustle of everyday life hides her very well, even though some look on her gold finery and either lust after it or see it as a reason to court her to their wares.

“My lord, my lord!” the vendors cry. She smiles and looks down at the seller who has a variety of hairpins. There is only one fashioned in gold. Similar to her headpiece which has the symbol of her people, this one has a U at the center and two brilliantly etched gold wings that fan out brilliantly from it.

“I think it would suit you.” A voice says behind her.

She startles and turns, almost knocking into Master Garuda.

“Would you wear it?” Eyes flick up to her hair and Wansarut fights the urge to reach up and touch her hairpin. There is something she cannot place about the god that has her so distinctly out of sorts. His lips are curled fondly as if they were amicable friends and his hand reaches past her to the jewelry, almost brushing her skin and she swears she can feel the sun in his skin warm her blood.

“Have you thought any more about my request?” She asks as Master Garuda turns his attention back to her and not the hairpin.

“I think I should think on it more.”

She narrows her eyes as he takes an almost jovial tone with her.

Sensing her displeasure, he smiles gently, “You know that this war is more than just you and I.”

“And yet you and Master Aruna have slain so many of us,” she says before she even understands her own words, too late to regret them.

However, rather than a burst of anger, Wansarut sees how Master Garuda struggles, first in his inability to name her, to direct his anger, and then to self-soothe. To repurpose the emotion and remain pleasant. She wonders why he would bother. Master Chalothon told them that the Garuda slay them without prejudice.

“There is death on both sides and it cannot be forgiven on a simple plea,” Master Garuda tells her quietly. She notices that their surroundings shimmer, Master Garuda hiding them from view as the humans walk past none the wiser to the two immortals in their presence.

“And without it, there can only be more death. How foolish.” Wansarut suddenly feels so incredibly tired. Maintaining human form is easy but conversing with someone such as the bird deity is incredibly taxing. “Master Garuda.”

She inclines her head, the most deference she can provide to him as he looks at her with those same searching eyes as before.

“Tell me your name.”

She doesn’t know why he keeps coming to her, why he doesn’t treat her as he has treated her kin but she feels the burning pain of their deaths as clearly as she feels the warmth of his presence.

“Read it on my epitaph.”

***

In her bed, her body writhes as the future yet to pass enters her mind. Master Garuda and Master Chalothon once again battle in the skies, gouging pieces of flesh to no avail. The screeching and beating of wings ring in her ears as she cups her hands over them to try and mute the sounds as they rattle in her mind.

She scrambles to see anything she recognizes, the shape of the clouds too ephemeral and the shade of the sky too bland until they slash across it in vermillion and emerald.

“Stop!” She screams. For them, for their kin and for herself.

Unlike hers, their ears are silent and hear nothing but their own blood coursing through their veins.

Her older sister, Wanwisa, brushes back her hair when her mind and body finally relax, pressing a cool piece of seaweed to her face. Wansarut stares up at the etched cavern, her own little alcove in the world of the Naga, water lapping up against its walls. Her tears are hot and she rubs them harshly.

“Sister,” Wanwisa tries to comfort her but they are not similarly blessed. Only she holds the visions of the future and the key to their survival within them.

“Why?” She croaks. Why must we hurt each other? Are we not born of the same blood?

Her older sister’s arms wrap around her and help to pull her up into a hug, fingers gently combing through her hair. She shushes her nonsensically and too rung out from her vision, Wansarut lets herself fall into her sister’s arms for a moment of peace, no matter how short.

***

When she sees Master Garuda next, she sees him well before he sees her. Sat up in a tree, she watches him walk, his bare feet crunching on the leaves. His white feathers are pristine and his skin is clear of blood.

She watches him crouch, fingertips touching the leaves he had not trodden on, picking one up and raising it to his nose. She realizes that he’s trying to scent something, someone, and she’s about to jump down to stop him when he looks directly up at her.

“There is no epitaph for the Naga who speaks with a Garuda,” he tells her conversationally.

“No, I don’t suppose there is,” She leans back against the tree trunk, a small smile unbidden on her lips when she notes his mistake.

“Will you really not tell me your name?” Master Garuda looks almost incredulous at the notion. “I have spoken with many and there is no young naga that travels in these parts. Only two sisters favored by the Naga king.”

“Two sisters?” She lets out a laugh, big and full. Is that all she is in the stories of others? “Is that not more appealing to you then, lord and master?”

“I do not care if he has a harem of women, I’m only interested in you.”

Wansarut looks down at him, the directness of his words like an arrow. She has long since abandoned hope that her affection for Master Chalothon might be returned. Many idiolize him and desire him as the strongest of their clan, his demeanor stern but kind with those he’s close to. His affection for her is that of a young sister. To hear such direct words, no matter how they are intended, shakes her.

“Your proposition is much too forward,” She replies and Master Garuda has the sense to blush delicately under his pale skin. She notes that it goes down to the top of his chest under his adornments.

He recovers, “You’re not so young to never have heard such a thing.”

“I am not so innocent but I am not so well favored either,” She admits as she drops herself down from her branch.

“Why not? You are a beauty.”

At that they both look away and Wansarut picks up another leaf, twiddling it between her fingers.

Master Garuda tries again, “What I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” She decides to save him the misery of trying to explain it.

“You have the most enchanting eyes.”

She can’t help that her gaze whips up to his.

“You will not give me your name,” Master Garuda laughs but it is airy and bright and such a pleasant sound to her ears, “I will give you mine. I am Sakuna.”

It’s a gesture of amicability that she never thought their kinds could have. Part of her wants to grab it with both hands so that it cannot slip away from her. She decides in that moment she will not.

“Wansarut.”

Sakuna’s face brightens up in a way that Wansarut’s heart begins to flutter and she almost reaches up to her chest to feel if it’s truly happening.

“Wansarut,” He repeats like he’s turning the word over in his mouth. “Shall we meet again, Wansarut?”

He spoke of how enchanting her eyes were but his are similarly so, if not more. He looks and she is seen.

“Meet who you will; it is no business of mine,” She tries to put a distance between them but it seemingly only encourages the god more.

“I only wish to meet you.”

“Why?” It slips out quickly and like a command.

A smaller, tighter smile appears on his face, “Because you were kind to me.”

“Are your wants so simple?”

Sakuna steps closer to her, “Yes.”

She could take a step back but she doesn’t.

“I’m curious about you, Wansarut. The only one who asks for peace and does no harm.”

“You make them sound like faults,” She folds her arms. Part of her wishes she had made herself taller so that she could stare Sakuna in the eye rather than still look up at him as he makes another step closer.

“There is no fault in you, I can see that as clearly as I did then.”

Something inside her stomach pleasantly churns at his words. She stamps on it.

“Nagini.”

She watches as his eyebrows draw together and his face scrunches up in confusion.

“I travel this world in many forms,” She gestures down to her current male form. In truth, she presents herself as male so that she can escape the boundaries of the Naga kingdom without alerting anyone to her disappearance, “Man, woman, even child if need be. When I am in the human realm, this is what I prefer.”

She doesn’t know what Sakuna is thinking and she knows that his kind does their best to avoid naginis. Their battles are fought between males, venting deep and dark aggression towards each other. Naginis do their best to be the protectors of their home and the rains.

Sakuna reaches out with a sure hand and knocks his curled knuckle under her chin, tipping her face up. It’s boyish and youthful, she had seen many fathers act this way with their sons.

“Come as you are, Wansarut,” he tells her softly, “I do not think how you look matters much.”

She has always known the expectations of her, to be wed and produce strong sons. Her mother delighted in her female face and how much she reflected the moon. Deep down, she was never desiring any of it. She was fond of Chalothon, thinking herself happy if she could wed him but after that, she did not think it suited her.

Sakuna’s voice draws her out of her thoughts, “Will you show me this world you visit so often?”

“I do not think there is much I could show you, Master Garuda.” Just because he told her his birth name and she thinks it, does not mean she is comfortable to use it.

“Show it to me anyway,” He smiles once again and bright crimson wings spread from his back. “I will see you soon, Wansarut.”

She watches as he breaks through the tree canopy and flies up to his home in the golden skies. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s smiling too. It’s how Wanwisa finds her with a call of her name.

“Sister!” Wanwisa looks like she’s ready to scold her. “You must change, Master Chalothon will be back soon from the battlements and he cannot see you like this.”

Wansarut looks down at her hands, still small but rougher and thicker than her base form, “Am I pretty like this, sister?”

Her sister looks at her as if she were the Greek Hydra that everyone is raving about.

“You are a man, Wansarut, what sort of beauty do you think you require?”

“None, I only—” She doesn’t know what she wants.

Willing her body to morph, to become malleable and pliant, she turns from the man that Sakuna knows into the female that Chalothon expects.

“It may be best that you do not come to the human world for a time, Wansarut, I fear it may have addled your mind,” Wanwisa takes her hand and guides her towards the water.

“My mind is quite intact,” She volleys back. However, her heart, normally impenetrable to the plight of the master of the Garuda, sending him back with harsh words and a closed door, is unlocked and open.

Her sister chuckles, “If you speak it, it must be so, sister. Come.”

Wansarut calculates it in her head, the next time she will be able to be in the human world would be the 15th day of the 11th lunar month.

[iamthatwhich]

If you menstruate and are on a path of zero-waste, avoiding plastics, avoiding toxic chemicals, minimizing your footprint, or all of the above, then you’ve likely been faced with a frustrating conundrum: Menstruating is a natural part of your life, but there doesn’t seem to be too many ‘clean’, safe options to deal with it.

First off, let me say that I have been off and away from mainstream menstrual care for over 14 years, including birth control (wrecked my hormones), and storebought sanitary products (full of harmful chemicals like bleach, perfume and hormone-disrupting PFAs!). I have used silicone cups, discs, and cloth pads, and have a lengthy and thorough review of how they are used and what brands I prefer up on my Patreon.

However, for today I want to focus on one tried and true item: The pad.

Pads have been around for centuries- longer if you include their earlier predecessor, The Rag. However, in this time we’ve come pretty far to create a more secure, clean and manageable item— though the creation of the chemically-treated, plastic lined disposable pad has been a regrettable pit stop.

Cloth pads are great because they come in a wide range of colors and patterns (making them more appropriate for more kinds of menstruating people, including men and children) and can be reused for years if cared for properly. Over the past decade, they’ve gone from being available solely from independent sellers on sites like Etsy to  being sold alongside menstrual cups in the ���alternative’ period care section of many stores. You can also specifically buy  pads made from organic or natural materials and avoid petrol-based textiles.

However, a downside here is that purchasing pads can still be expensive even if you aren’t buying direct from an indie seller. Now, it’s not that they aren’t worth every penny; having made 3 sets myself I fully understand the time, skill and materials that go into making them. But the fact of the matter is that under late-stage capitalism, paying the higher up-front cost for a set of reusable pads can be daunting, even if you know it’s cheaper in the long run (and it is). If you have access to fabric, a sewing machine, and sewing skills, you can half the price, and I’m going to show you  how. The cost of fabric can even be lowered by recycling old towels and clothing and I’ll talk about what you need in the tutorial! As a set of good cloth pads can last from 4-6 years or more, this is a great, frugal and eco-friendly option!

Additionally, I’m going to tell you how to wash and care for your pads since working with reusable pads is way different than just wrapping them up and throwing them in the trash.

For the step by step directions, photos and care tutorial, click here to read for free on my Patreon. All of my content is Patron-supported and Patrons also receive private and early-release posts! If you appreciate my work, feel free to visit my membership page and choose the tier that works for you.

Free tutorial here.

Tips + Thank yous Insta

[yarnnerdally]

Falling in Love in a Bakery - A Series

A vignette into the love life of Imogen Quinn and Nokto Klein

Characters: Imogen, Nokto, Aurelia (Imogen's sister) Setting: Quinntessential Baked Goods bakery Rating: Teen Word Count: 1,223

     It was a fairly quiet day in Rhodolite and Imogen was glad for it. Just the week before she had baked her heart out for a wedding in which the couple insisted on not only having cake, but profiteroles, macarons, and rose water shortbread cookies. After a few days off (in which Nokto was visiting nobles in Benitoite, much to her displeasure) the bakery was back in the swing of things as usual. With a self-satisfied smile Imogen pulled freshly baked strawberry rhubarb tarts out of the oven. They were small, only consisting of two bites to finish one, but they were one of her best-sellers.

     ‘And Nokto’s favorite,’ she mused to herself, smiling fondly. It’s not like they were dating. But… things certainly seemed to be headed that direction. He visited the shop in any of the free time they had and even the knowledge of him busting his backside to spend time with her made her feel as warm as a freshly baked pie. The bell on the door chimed signaling that a customer had come into the shop. Setting down the tray, she went to the front of the shop to see Nokto looking quite thoughtfully at the display case.

     “Nokto!” She was surprised to see him a full day earlier than when he said he would return from his duties in Benitoite. She went to him, untying her apron and placing it on the counter so she could give him a proper hug. “What are you doing back? I thought you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow!”

     Nokto’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw Imogen, a soft (if weary) smile gracing his face as he hugged her back. “Got done just a little early. Figured I’d swing by to see my favorite baker before heading back to the palace,” he said, tapping the tip of her nose. She chuckled a little and withdrew from him.

     “Wait right there. I have something for you,” she said, disappearing to the back room again. The tarts had just barely cooled down enough where she could package a few of them for him and came back out with the box. “They just finished cooling down. Had to make another batch since the first one sold out at 10 this morning,” she laughed. Nokto opened the small box and made a small ‘o’ shape with his mouth.

     “I’m going to have to smuggle this into the palace, you know. Otherwise Licht and Jin will scent these out like a bloody hound,” he mused. He looked at the box pensively for a moment before deciding to indulge and take a bite of one of the tarts, groaning softly as he savored it. “Anything new and exciting while I was away?”

     Imogen shook her head and shrugged. “Not new, necessarily. Jin actually dropped by yesterday. That was about it.” Nokto’s chewing slowed as he heard his brother had come by the shop and immediately became suspicious.

     “Jin? What for?”

     “He was getting a bunch of his favorites. The coffee roll, the chocolate spice cake,” She went on, sitting at one of the stools next to the counter. She debated telling him what else happened but her conscience won out. “He asked me on a date.” There was a tension that lingered in the air for a moment. “I politely declined. He, uh… told me to keep him in mind if my prince charming never comes along.” She could see Nokto bristle a little at that but quickly tamp the emotion down. It was only a split second, but it was there.

     “Why are you upset?” She asked softly.

     “Upset? Why would I be upset?” Nokto asked, brushing the question off and scoffing before putting the rest of the tart back in the box. This wasn’t the first time he simply wouldn’t come clean with his feelings and Imogen felt she was at her breaking point.

     “Y’know,” she began, picking up her apron and beginning to put it back on, “for all the intellect you have, you lack any and all wisdom,” she huffed, turning to head back behind the counter until a hand stopped her by her wrist.

     “I lack wisdom?” he questioned, his own temper spiking at her sudden shift in attitude. “Tell me, then, what wisdom do you expect me to possess at this moment?”

     “That I rejected Jin because I’m in love with you!” She had turned to face him, the words flying out of her mouth before she knew it. Once she realized what she had actually admitted to, a hard blush began to spread across her face. Nokto stood there in a stunned silence, his hand still around her wrist though his grip loosened considerably.

     “What?” He blinked, any traces of annoyance gone from his face now as he stepped closer to her, her back now against the display case. Imogen sighed a little, verdant eyes meeting ruby. His brow furrowed, attempting to ascertain whether or not he was in a dream. “Say that again. Please.”

     “I…” why did she suddenly feel like she was out of breath with him so close? His hand was cupping her jaw and another settled on her hip. “I rejected Jin. Because I’m in love with you.” She watched as his breath caught in his chest, hope and light springing to his eyes in the split second before his lips descended upon her’s with a fierce hunger. It was another moment before she realized Nokto was kissing her. The information finally processed in her brain and she melted like sunwarm chocolate into his embrace. She brought her arms around his neck to hold him as close as she had always wanted, her hand buried into his silver locks. The rest of the world fell away as he kissed her breathless, gently pinning her against the display case. Nokto pulled away just slightly when they heard the sound of the back door of the bakery opening.

     “That'll be Aurelia,” Imogen murmured, swallowing thickly as her hands rested on his chest.

     “Then I suppose we should make ourselves more presentable,” he murmured into her ear, leaning down to press a kiss just under it. “Alternatively…” Imogen giggled, her cheeks stained a pretty shade of pink.

     “Alternatively I would ask her to run the shop for an hour or so but if I know you…” she brought her hands up to his face, holding it softly. She watched and grinned as he flushed ever so slightly at the contact. “Once you have me properly alone, it'll be more than an hour.” Nokto laughed softly, pressing his face into her touch.

     “You know me well,” he murmured, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “And… for the record. I'm very much in love with you, too.” Imogen felt warmth bloom in her chest as he admitted his own feelings for her, her eyes tender. As much as they didn't want to, they parted. Nokto had things to finish at the palace and the business day was not over for the bakery. Nokto pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek before leaving and she watched him head down the street from the doorway.

     “Sooooo…” Aurelia smirked as she put her elbows on the counter, her chin resting on her hands as she watched her little sister at the door. “When's the wedding?”

I couldn't remember if I asked before about people wanting to be tagged in OC content, so lmk if you'd like to be!

[silvermoon424]

Hello! I really want to get into collecting sailor moon merch but I was wondering if you had any tips? you've been doing this for a long time so I was hoping you could share your wisdom lol

You came to the right person! I've been collecting anime merch since 2011 and have a lot of experience with collecting in general. Some tips I have are:

It's better to buy one big/expensive thing you really like rather than a few smaller/less expensive things you only kinda like.

Prioritize shopping at Japanese sites (especially for vintage things) or direct suppliers like BigBadToyStore rather than buying from English-based sites like eBay and (US) Mercari. There are a lot of great deals on eBay, but you can often find things for cheaper on sites like Yahoo Auctions Japan, Surugaya, and Mandarake.

If you really, really want something that's being released now or in the near future, do your best to buy it right away. Once the official supplier's stash is gone, you'll be at the mercy of the reseller's market and their prices are often way more than sticker price.

Try to map out where you're going to display everything once you get it. My collection grew slowly over time, and I only just recently bought actual display cabinets. I would definitely suggest investing in display cabinets from the start (I got some good ones from IKEA, which is by far the best budget-friendly option)

Just collect what you want! Who cares if you have 20 figures of Sailor Jupiter and nothing else. It's your collection and your money.

I personally unbox everything I buy, but I do collapse and save the boxes just in case I need to resell the item down the line. Having the box will increase the figure's value, but that doesn't mean you can't display it.

That's all I could really think of off the top of my head!

EDIT: @desperatecheesecubes mentioned MyFigureCollection, to which I have to say: YES omg, I can't believe I forgot to shout out MFC! Not only is the site great for tracking your own collection, you can search for merch of individual characters (including alternate forms) to see what you'd like to track down. Also, oftentimes people will advertise that they're selling a figure/plushie/etc on the product page, so it's great to watch pages for rarer items to see if a seller will pop up.

[tau1tvec]

I'm trying to make a Sim that looks very tough, kind of like your Mars sim with his perma-glare. If you don't mind sharing, do you have tips on making someone that looks just the right side of scary?

Sure!

I try to put a lot of effort into the eyes of my sims, bc it's where I like to draw the most attention, as that's what we do as humans when we look at other humans. Making eyes expressive as possible can say a lot about the person behind them and is quite simple to do since it's quite literally just mimicking an expression, whether it be happy, sad, tired, or angry.

For Mars' eyes, I think the best thing I can suggest is finding the right eyes/contacts first. Ever seen a cat's eyes? How they look so much cuter when their pupils are HUGE? Well we wanna go the opposite direction, by making the pupils smaller, and irises bigger, which can be quite easily achieved by using custom eyes/contacts like the ones Mars uses, or by using aWT's custom eyeball and eyeball sliders to minimize the pupils and maximize the iris on any eyes/contacts you choose.

The height of Mars' eyelids is also a big player here, by giving him a permanent 🙄 look. Putting a gap between the bottom of the iris and the bottom eyelid can help with this, moving the top eyelid down closer to the pupil will exaggerate it even more. Using eyebag makeup, or this eyebag slider can also add that certain special "bitch I'm tired™" to the overall look.

Lastly, the eyebrows, our biggest seller here, since when we see someone who looks angry, our most obvious tell is the eyebrows. They'll tend to turn inward, and down, whereas when we're sad we tend to turn them inward and up, with the outside ends down.

Let's use Aex ( ol' blue eyes ) as a comparison. See how a simple difference in eyebrow angle can give either a more stern, or empathetic look.

To achieve Mars' look, a nice bold brow is a good start, using the eyebrow rotation slider, and a touch of the eyebrow definition slider ( believe it's called ) added around the time werewolves were introduced can get that perfect pinch between the brows. You can even add makeup like wrinkles to accentuate it more if sliders aren't doing enough for you.

Main thing is to remember there's a lot more to eyes than just the eye itself, everything else around it is just as important to achieve the look you want.

[dubairealestate24]

How to Find the Best Deals When Buying Villas in Dubai

Securing the best deals on villas in Dubai requires a combination of market knowledge, strategic planning, and effective negotiation. Here’s how you can find the best deals when buying villas in this vibrant city.

1. Conduct Thorough Market Research

Understanding the market dynamics is crucial for finding the best deals.

Current Market Trends: Stay updated with the latest market trends and property prices in different areas of Dubai. This will help you identify the right time to buy.

Historical Data: Analyze historical data on property prices to understand the market’s performance over the years. This can give you insights into potential future trends.

For comprehensive market insights, visit Dubai Real Estate.

2. Choose the Right Time to Buy

Timing your purchase can significantly impact the deal you get.

Buyer’s Market: Look for periods when there is a surplus of properties on the market. This can drive prices down and provide better negotiation opportunities.

Seasonal Trends: Consider buying during off-peak seasons when the demand is lower. Sellers may be more willing to negotiate during these times.

Explore more options at Off-Plan Projects in UAE.

3. Work with Experienced Real Estate Agents

A knowledgeable real estate agent can be invaluable in finding the best deals.

Reputable Agents: Choose agents with a strong track record and good knowledge of the Dubai villa market. They can provide valuable insights and help you navigate the buying process.

Negotiation Skills: An experienced agent can negotiate better deals on your behalf and help you understand the intricacies of the market.

For expert advice, check out Mortgage Broker Dubai.

4. Consider Off-Plan and Under-Construction Properties

Off-plan and under-construction properties can offer attractive pricing and payment plans.

Early Bird Discounts: Developers often offer discounts for early buyers. These discounts can be substantial and provide good value for money.

Flexible Payment Plans: Off-plan properties typically come with flexible payment plans, making it easier to manage your finances.

Learn more about off-plan properties at Under-Construction Properties in Dubai.

5. Negotiate Effectively

Effective negotiation can help you secure a better deal.

Be Prepared: Do your homework and know the market value of the property. This will give you a strong negotiating position.

Stay Flexible: Be open to compromises and alternative solutions. Sometimes, a small concession can lead to a significant overall saving.

For more negotiation tips, visit Best Mortgage Services.

6. Utilize Online Property Portals

Online property portals can be a great resource for finding deals.

Comprehensive Listings: Use reputable online portals that offer comprehensive listings of properties. This can help you compare prices and features.

Direct Deals: Some portals facilitate direct deals between buyers and sellers, potentially eliminating agent fees and providing better deals.

For more property listings, check out Property For Sale in Dubai.

7. Attend Property Exhibitions and Events

Property exhibitions and events can provide opportunities to find exclusive deals.

Developer Discounts: Many developers offer special discounts and promotions at these events.

Networking Opportunities: These events provide an opportunity to network with developers, agents, and other buyers, which can lead to valuable insights and deals.

Explore more at Rent Your Property in Dubai.

Conclusion

Finding the best deals when buying villas in Dubai involves a combination of thorough research, strategic planning, and effective negotiation. By staying informed about market trends, choosing the right time to buy, working with experienced agents, and considering off-plan properties, you can secure the best deals and make a smart investment in Dubai’s vibrant real estate market.

For more information and assistance with buying villas in Dubai, visit Home Loan UAE.

[nothorses]

if you can't afford the cost of the meal + tips, you can't afford the meal.

Except the problem is what if you can’t afford the meal + tips??? Just starve??? Just fucking die???? It’s like saying ppl who can’t afford to buy things from small ethical corporations just shouldn’t be allowed to buy those things

No, and I think you're misunderstanding what the issue is there, too.

If you can't afford to buy something, and stealing or shorting the cost somewhat will cause harm (stealing from Target, for example, generally does not): you should not cause harm in order to get that thing.

If you can't afford to eat at a fancy high-end restaurant, what do you do?

You go somewhere else! You eat a different meal!

For a lot of folks, this means you're picking the less expensive restaurant; maybe you're going to Applebee's instead of a Michelin star steakhouse. Maybe you're getting Denny's. Maybe you're going to McDonald's- where you don't need to tip anyway.

If your only option is to eat at home or get less food or e-beg or get on food stamps or go to the food bank or whatever else, then unfortunately, you are going to have to continue to navigate that situation rather than just stealing from people who are very likely struggling as much as you are.

If you go to a place you can afford only if you short the tip, you're still going to a place you can't afford. The tip is not optional, and the very direct harm you cause by shorting it is not lessened or justified just because you can't afford it.

This sucks. This is a bad system. It is not fair to you, it is not fair to the server, and it needs to be changed.

But you don't need to eat at the most expensive restaurant more than the servers there need food, shelter, and water.

It is your responsibility not to make that choice, and it is your responsibility not to put yourself in a situation where you get to the check and realize you can only afford the meal if you steal the tip.

You should not steal from ethical sellers when that causes harm, either. You shouldn't give your local crochet artist a check that bounces for a blanket you wanted but couldn't afford. You shouldn't trick an online artist into making a piece for you before ghosting them on the payment. You are causing more harm in doing these things than you are when you purchase from unethical sellers.

You deserve to be able to afford those things, but you do not deserve to have them more than those people deserve to be compensated fairly for their work.

Find a better option.

[weministertomonsters]

Deathsinger - M monster x F reader

The scent of spices and food is heavy in the air. Henna-stained hands flash as servants from various households buy from the stalls, arguing with sellers over prices. Small tents house coffee mats, where men and women drink strong cups and play cards, pinning and unpinning jewelry from their hair as they win or lose.

Other tents hold fortune tellers or shamans with pouches of dried snake skin and oils that will make a person fall in love with you. Troughs full of embers sizzle as the juice from meat and corn drips on them. Teenagers loiter and small children play tag and pilfer food until their mothers find them and drag them home.

This is Vasskeva, the desert market.

Your tent is set up under a fig tree a little out of the way, purposefully harder to find. That's what makes it unique and what keeps customers coming back. That, and your dancing, and the seductive arch of your eyebrow, and the way you engage with your audience. They love it, men and women alike.

The boisterous people that come crowding into your tent tonight look a lot like bandits, but tonight is Vasskeva, and peace is the one rule everyone upholds on this night. They come with pockets full of jewelry they have either won or stolen from the card tents, high on the buzz of coffee, fried cheese, and wine.

You dip your head in a courteous bow.

"How may I entertain you today?" You ask.

They cheer, and a few calloused fingers stuff gold rings and bracelets into your bedazzled bra, sneaking touches of your skin. You smile, red lips glistening in the candlelight.

"Dance, dance!" A bandit says in a thick accent. "Say, where's the Oskov we found? Oskov are music people, no?"

A man is pushed forward. He has no shoes on which is a risky move in the desert. His robes are plain, not his native clothes then. The Oskov are famous for the brightly colored fabric that even the commoners wear. Except for his feet, the rest of him is covered, even his hands. The shawl swathed around his head is deep black and you can only guess from the tilt of his head that he is watching you. The only other thing you can make out is the glint of a metal band around his neck.

"Have you instruments, deola?" One of the men asks, his thumb caressing your ankle.

You smile and pull your foot away before he ends up tripping you. It has happened before, your very presence entrancing someone to the point that when they touch you, they don't let go.

"I have a drum. Can you play?"

The Oskov nods once and you unearth the drum from beneath your mountain of dancing ribbons and tambourine and shakers, holding it out to him.

The metal band around his neck glistens with repressing magic and you idly wonder how he got caught. His gloved hands touch yours for a moment as he takes the small drum from you and sits cross-legged on the floor. He pulls off the gloves and lays them on his knee. His hands are dark grey with veins close under the surface that resemble tree roots. His long fingers are dangerously elegant, the black-tipped nails trimmed down to harmless crescents.

You pick out a soft orange dancing shawl with metal beads that make a shimmering sound and wait for his signal. The drums start slow and rhythmic. You've always liked the deep sound of this particular drum, a pitch that drags the movement out of your very being until you feel like the drum is directing your movements.

The bandits clap along appreciatively. They are well-behaved and respectful, which is more than you can say for some noble people who have visited your tent.

You begin to learn the beat the Oskov is playing out for you, anticipating the highs and the drops. You spin and shimmy, letting your shawl dance through the air, whispers of the fabric slipping sensually over hands and grinning faces. The drum speeds up, and as you dance, a fine sheen of sweat covers your skin. When the song finally ends, you're breathless, and not from exertion. You feel alive, your vision sharp and your veins flowing hot with blood. It transforms your body. Anyone would be a fool not to recognize how turned on you are.

The bandits look pleased like they've accomplished something. Gold coins and jewelry are offered to you, but you refuse. You manage to catch your breath and you push your heavy braids over your shoulder and announce,

"I want him as payment."

The bandits turn to look at their captive, and for a few moments, there is silence. Just as you think they will refuse, their leader booms out a laugh. Their leader turns out to be a tiny, toothless old woman, not the muscular man you had presumed.

"You certainly have an eye for nice things, eh, little deola?" She lisps. "You have danced well. Hmmm..."

She taps her gnarled fingers on her cane.

"I will bargain with you, yes? We will give you not only the Oskov but half the gold if you put on another show for us."

"Very well. What dance do you want?" You ask.

"A dance of life, shall we say. With him in it." The leader smacks her lips in satisfaction.

She probably thinks you won't bite. But you're determined to have him, so you give your head a little toss and nod. The bandits cheer. The Oskov is sitting very still. He offers no resistance when someone snatches the drum away and begins to play a disjointed, banging tune. You hold your hand out to him with an apologetic smile. Sleeping with him hadn't been your initial plan, but you have no choice now.

He has the right to refuse, but he takes your hand and stands, intentionally looming over you. You're not afraid. You lean into him, and whisper against his covered ear,

"Do this for me, and I will help you remove the band around your neck."

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

It's been a long time since I enjoyed writing something this much! It turned out exactly how I wanted it. I have a part 2 in mind as well, in case anyone is interested! The music at the beginning is exactly what I listened to while writing this.

The dancing I envisioned for the story is bellydancing, which I happen to be learning myself, as a fun way to exercise. I kept wanting to take a break to dance myself. 😂

[directsellingnow]

Direct Selling Industry: दिल्ली में आयोजित ट्रेनिंग सेशन में Business Coach and Mentor Shiv Arora ने किया डायरेक्ट सेलर्स का मार्गदर्शन

Direct Selling Industry: दिल्ली में एक दिवसीय (one-day training session) प्रशिक्षण सत्र का आयोजन किया गया, जिसमें प्रसिद्ध Business Coach and Mentor Mr. Shiv Arora ने “How to Get Started in Direct Selling” (डायरेक्ट सेलिंग) विषय पर अपने गहन अनुभव और ज्ञान को साझा किया। इस कार्यक्रम में बड़ी संख्या में डायरेक्ट सेलर्स (direct sellers) ने भाग लिया, जो Direct Selling Industry व business में…

[starl3ng]

Duplicitous Desertion

4—Unsuccessful Revenge

A series of events gains Angel the gift of her very own blaster. 

Ao3 | Tip Jar | Next

Content: Kylo Ren/Fem!OC, MDNI, sexual content, eventual NSFW, self-indulgent, slow burn, canon-typical violence, mentions/descriptions of injury and death, general angst

3.6k words

Angel isn’t watching the view in the morning. Well, she’s pretending to. But truthfully, her eyes keep darting back to stare at the man who pilots the speeder. 

Ever since last night, she’d been plagued with curiosity. Beneath that mask—that crackling distortion—was the gentlest voice she’s sure she’s heard in a long, long while. Is that why he wore it? Because he wasn’t nearly as scary without it? She was dying to see more now that she’d gotten a glimpse. It was only natural to feel that way, she tells herself. 

“I’ll probably be finished with the inventory tomorrow,” Angel speaks up over the wind. Tomorrow was a day early from the expected eight days. 

The speeder was going the fastest he had ever taken it, creating a storm of dust behind it as they made their way back to where the deal was taking place. 

Ren had not woken her as early this time, either running late himself or being considerate and letting her sleep in a few minutes since she had informed him she was having a hard time falling asleep. Whatever the matter, they had nearly been late. He slowed as they approached the cave where he would park the speeder and said nothing. He shut off the engine and climbed out, walking without her to where he normally oversaw things. 

Angel takes his silence for understanding as she climbs out and walks at a brisk pace, adjusting her clipboard all the while. 

They part ways, Angel heading towards the crates and the troopers that were already waiting for her. Her boots thud on the floor of the old factory as she nears, nodding disinterestedly at their greeting. “Let’s begin,” she says, flipping a page on the clipboard and clicking a pen. The cycle she was used to now starts once more. One second sweep-down of a weapon, mentally note any problems, tally, and repeat. She’s so comfortable in this process that her mind wanders. Soft-looking hair… She marks a tally. Was that really what she saw last night? Was he really so….?

Angel becomes so engrossed in her task that she barely notices one of the seller’s soldiers coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the clipboard. Something catches his eye; a wristband she wears that’s peeking out of her uniform’s sleeve. When his hand clamps down on her shoulder it’s only reflex—Hays Minor raised a jumpy woman—to whip her arm around and strike him with the back of her hand. 

The smack echoes through the warehouse, where everything stops and heads turn to look in her direction. Then, that hand on her shoulder yanks. The motion rips a scream out of Angel, and that is when everything begins to move all at once like a quickly divulging storm. The troopers move forward like a pack of ants to pull Angel back into their numbers, each one pushing her behind them as they move forward. 

Angel ducks and slips behind a shipping crate, closing her eyes tightly and cupping her hands over her head as the sound of shouting, weapons firing, and stray blasts echo throughout the abandoned factory. 

Things might have been able to de-escalate if it had not been for a blaster shot from one of the troopers killing that man. Immediately, two shots from somewhere across the open mining facility come hurtling towards the two troopers, then a grenade right next to the crate Angel hid behind.

A second tics by and neither soldier has fallen, nor has the bomb made any progress exploding. 

Angel watches as not a moment later the bomb is mysteriously thrown somewhere else and the two blaster beams are sent hurtling back directly where they had been fired from, causing two more screams to echo.

“This was not what we agreed upon,” hissed the boss of this deal.

“It certainly was not. You promised the First Order top-of-the-line weapons. Of which I have found none.” That hissing, unstable blade switched on and even though Angel could not see anything, she had a perfect idea of what was about to happen.

“I-I swear everything is as promised-!”

“If you wish to uphold your promise, you will bring us what you offered or I will kill you and every single one of your employees.” 

The sound of a stifled cry echoed as the man broke to his knees. “Yes, please, just stop this! You've already killed three of my men.”

“Tell them to stand down.”

Silence, until a voice echoed on various speakers positioned around the canyon, the message for them all to stand down.

“We will be returning all of the crates we received. You have three days to make it right, do not think that we will not be checking what you give us next time.” The quivering blade shut off and both men in question finally came into view.

“Report.” Kylo Ren instructed the soldiers.

 “Sir.” One of the soldiers steps forward. “We believe the officer was grabbed out of suspicion. She uh…” The soldier glances back at his partner, who looks away. “…slapped him. That’s when the fight broke out.” 

A ways away, Angel stands, brushing her uniform off and taking a couple of deep breaths. 

“Understood. Go back to the transport and radio to the main ship that we will be taking the goods back and might have to spend a few extra days waiting for them to replace the goods they promised.” He walked past the soldiers and to Angel, silent as he stared down at her as if he was formulating something. “Are you hurt?”

Angel looks up at him, somewhat out of breath, and shakes her head ‘no’ quickly. “No, no, I’m okay. I just…” She sighs. “… got startled.” One of her hands is squeezing her opposite shoulder where she’d been grabbed. “I’m so sorry sir,” she apologizes, head bowing in front of him. “It was my fault. I wasn’t expecting to be grabbed and on Hays Minor that kind of thing…” She trails off. 

He silently stood there, analyzing her small behaviors as she spoke. “It is fine. In fact, it has made our client even more compliant.” As the silence continued to pass between the two of them, he turned and began to walk away as if to check on other things. But he paused and turned to look briefly over his shoulder. “Tomorrow I am taking you to town to buy a blaster.” Then he silently walked on, dark cape flowing in the wind as he casually stepped over the body of the man who had grabbed her.

Angel blinks, watching him walk off into the distance. Town? Angel’s heart picked up. A blaster? Her face flushes. She’d never owned a blaster before. Her very own blaster? She loved designing weapons: the craft, the thinking, the bang! But she never had the money to have one. 

And town? She hadn’t gotten to see what ‘town’ was like here in Varkana. Was it bright? Lively? Or was it dark and gloomy like the towns in Hays Minor? Whatever they were—she didn’t care. She was getting her very own blaster! 

—

That evening, after the transport ships had departed with their goods, Angel sat on the passenger side of the speeder, watching Kylo with sparkling eyes. “So, what time are we going tomorrow?” She’s probably the most cheery she’d ever been—pushy even—brushing her whipping hair from her face every once in a while. 

“The morning,” he answered. “The shops won’t be open until an hour or so past sunrise, so we will wait until then.”

The air was warmer than the first night, a nice breeze blowing as they sped across the desert land.

Angel could barely contain her excitement, laying her head back against the seat's headrest and closing her eyes. She smiled. Maybe getting grabbed and almost starting a fight wasn’t so bad if it got her a blaster. To her, that bit of fear was worth it. “Do you have a blaster, sir?” Her eyes open and she turns just slightly to look at him. 

She hadn’t thought about it before. If he did; what kind? Maybe something that packed a punch. But then again… Angel thinks back to the night before when she’d heard him speak in a soft, quiet tone without distortion or growling static. Perhaps something silent, then. 

“I don’t, but I am well-trained with all types.” He began to slow as they neared the ramp-up. “Do you have any experience handling or firing blasters?”

For someone who worked on weapons for most of her life, Angel had only fired a blaster a couple of times to check its quality. “Not much,” she answers truthfully. “Back on Hays Minor I usually kept a knife on me, not a blaster.” 

He nodded. A knife would do her absolutely nothing against the enemies of the first order.

They pulled into the mouth of the cave and the speeder was shut off. 

Now back at their living quarters, it was easy to recall the scene that had played out between them both last night. Kylo Ren quickly makes his way to the door.

By the time Angel gets both her feet on the ground, he’s gone. She’s left with her lips parted, barely breathing the word ‘wait.’ She’s not even sure what she would’ve said after if she’d pushed her voice through before he disappeared. It had been instinctual. Angel looks down at her hand, which is scuffed a little on her palm from the fight that broke out earlier in the day. It’s best to ignore it, she thinks as she heads inside after him, creeping quietly on her feet like if he heard her she’d be in trouble—which she wouldn’t. 

Actually… Angel’s pretty sure she might be incapable of getting in trouble. That was just a theory, though. 

—

In the morning, they left before sunrise. The still and dry morning air stung Angel’s face as she took an unfamiliar route than the one she was used to when traveling to and from the old factory warehouse. She’d wanted more sleep, honestly, she was having trouble staying awake in the speeder. Even thoughts of getting a blaster weren’t enough to keep her eyes from slowly closing once in a while and her head nodding forward. 

Kylo had caught onto this, trying to make the ride as gentle as possible so at least one of them could sleep. He had not slept at all last night, in fact, he was unsure he might ever sleep again. He did not want to. Not if visions could occur. 

In the distance, colors broke out on the horizon, large cloths hung about like streamers over the town streets. Unlike the canyons they normally traveled through, this portion of Varkana was on a flat plain with visibility for miles in all directions.

“We are nearing.” It was the first time he had spoken all day, leather hand bringing the speeder to a slower pace as the colors quickly became much more visible.

Angel’s eyes blink open and she sits up, rubbing an eye before stretching her arms high above herself. “Mmh—oh, it’s beautiful,” she gasps, arms dropping as she leans forward to get a better look at the slowly nearing picture. The sun was just beginning to rise and it bathed the colorful cloths and buildings in rich orange.  People were beginning to walk around, chatter warming the air as the sun would in an hour or so. 

Ren slowly guided their speeder to an area where animals and various speeders alike were lined up, waiting for their owners to return. Shutting the speeder off, he stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to Angel’s side. “If anything starts to go wrong, you will stay by my side. Understand?”

Angel nods as she steps out and comes to stand beside him. If fights broke out here occasionally, It wouldn’t surprise her. Fights often broke out where she’d lived on Hays Minor. Sometimes scuffles turned ugly and sometimes they just stayed scuffles.

They began their journey under the colorful shade of fabrics and cloth, weaving through vendors selling foods and ore as he made his way through the streets. It was not his first time doing this and he seemed to certainly know where he was going.

He turned to face Angel and gestured to the metal door leading into a building made from yellow stone. “This is it.” He approached the door, knocking before entering.

Inside were walls of blasters,  some positioned in glass cases in the center of the room, and others kept on the wall behind a counter where a three-eyed Gran sat.

“And what brings you here?” It asked.

“A blaster, for her.”

The creature nodded and positioned itself to look at Angel.

“What kind you want?”

Angel’s cheeks go red on the spot. “Umm.” She looks around at all the ones on display, peering behind Kylo, where his strong figure blocked her view. An old A-180 catches her eye. Angel remembered one of her coworkers had one. She’d always admired it—found it pretty despite it being sort of a relic used back when the old empire ruled. Angel points at it. “That one.” 

The dealer nervously eyed Kylo Ren. “Th—that one is—typically associated with the Resistance—!” 

Kylo Ren held up a hand to the dealer. “That is fine.”

The dealer nods and clears his throat. “That blaster is also designed with a rifle and sniper configuration, both of which I have—original edition of course, not aftermarket. Would the lady be interested in either of them?”

Kylo Ren turned his helmet to peer over at her from where she stood, gazing up at her new weapon.

Angel smiled up at it, eyes sparkling when she’d heard that it was fine. “I like it how it is.” She says, turning to face the shopkeeper. “Without the fancy stuff.” Momentarily, her pale eyes dart over to the man who would be buying it in the first place, as if asking permission. 

Kylo nodded and set down a couple of credits on the counter.

“Sir it is—“

“It is a relic. This many credits should suffice.”

“—yes, of course.” The man takes the credits and slips them into the pocket of his worn shirt, walking around the counter to where Angel stood to grab it down for her. He hands it to her hesitantly before quickly returning to the safety of his counter.

The dark figure is at the door waiting now for Angel to figure out some way to store it. “Come. Let us find you a holster.”

Angel holds it for a moment. She’d clearly wanted to stare at it more but pushed the feeling aside as she slipped it between her waistband and pulled her uniform over the end of it. Hiding it, like a squirrel stuffing its stash away from prying eyes. 

Her boots scuff on the dusty ground as she follows him outside. She squints in the shafts of sunlight that pour through the draping cloths overhead. The air already feels warm, something Angel had struggled to get used to on her first few days on Varkana. Even now, she wipes a little sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. 

The masked man continues to weave about the streets, which had grown far more crowded since they had entered the shop. 

He found a stand that worked with leather and stopped. There were all sorts of holsters. Brown, black, fancy, simple, thigh strap, waist, across the chest, and under the shoulder. “What would you prefer?” 

Angel looked up at him and then down like she was analyzing his attire. A moment later, she points to one. It was black, simple, and bucked around the waist. “That one.” Her reasoning? Looks were important to the First Order. They were often old school and rather tight-collared. Something that made her blend into the background but also fall in line and looks inconspicuous beside her—and she was tempted to say owner—would be perfect. 

He nods, giving the amount of credit he deems appropriate and taking the pouch. “Here,” he said as he handed it to her, looking down. His voice sounded gentler somehow, even through the muffled hiss of his mask.

Angel takes it and drapes it over her arm. Part of her felt like it wouldn’t be good to put it on right this instant. That and it felt impossible with all the people crowding the streets now. She was struggling just to keep up with Kylo as it was. Getting distracted by trying to put on a holster for the first time would get her lost for sure. 

“You seem to know where everything is here,” she comments, further wondering if he really did find these escapes from the Star Destroyer somewhat of a relief from its oppressive atmosphere like she did.

“Yes, I have conducted a few deals here in the past.” They began to walk back in the direction of the speeders when he began to ask, “Anything else you need?”

Then, a shout broke off any answer Angel could have thought up.

“KYLO. REN.” 

The streets quickly cleared to reveal three figures wrapped up in fabrics similar to the traders they had spent the last couple days with. The purpose of the cloth either to hide their identity or protect against the harsh sand and sun. Most likely both.

“You, you stole our children, slaughtered my wife, and destroyed our homes. We had to flee, there is nothing left of our home but misery and occupation by men like you. My kinsmen and I are going to kill you on behalf of all Kijimi. We will avenge our home planet and families.” Two blasters aimed themselves at Kylo as he shoved Angel behind him with his hand. The man in the middle who had spoken held a staff that buzzed with electricity.

Angel hisses a breath between her teeth, crouching down to the ground and peering around the billowing fabric the man who blocked her from view wore. This was why she was hesitant to work for the First Order. They made enemies like a badger in a snake den. 

Three against one. It was an unequal match, Angel thought and she looked up at the broad back of her superior. “Should I call for backup?” She whispers to him, fingers moments away from the band on her wrist, which she discovered last night had a pinging feature. 

“No need, not yet at least,” he said before the hiss from his saber echoed as he switched it on. He held it down at his side, intense heat radiating off of it and onto Angel as she peered around him. This caused the two blasters to go off and he moved his saber with the blasts of plasma, hitting them off onto nearby buildings and causing spectators to scream.

Kylo Ren took a step forward. “No matter what happens, you stay right behind me, understand?” He said as his voice began to rise. 

Angel looked up, heart pounding out of her chest and she stood on shaky legs. Right behind him? “Okay.” It comes out unsure, but she brushes the cloth at his back and stays close, hidden behind him. People were running and screaming all around her, shop doors banging closed, windows locking. She wanted one of them to take her with them; to pull her into the dark of a shop until this was over. 

The three men who attacked were rightfully angry, and quietly, Angel knew if she wasn’t working for the First Order, that she would’ve taken their side in this. It’s how she always operated; working for money, not morals—for her own life. On Hays Minor, minding one’s business and serving oneself was the smartest way to live. 

“Tch, you will die, you murderer!” Shouted the man in the middle as he charged the caped figure who was the only thing acting as Angel’s shield.

Kylo lunged forward, red sparks flying as the two weapons collided. Angel had seen Kylo’s fighting style personally. It involved constant maneuvering, however, he was somewhat handicapped having to make sure she could keep up.

Finally, a scream as Ren’s motions slowed, then the sound of weight hitting the ground. One man down. The two others with blasters began firing at free will, their shots of plasma suddenly getting caught mid-air, buzzing with energy. 

So it had been him who had stopped the grenade and blaster shot in the abandoned quarry. The blasts were moments later sent back where they came from and two more cries broke out.

Kylo Ren was panting lightly, fists balled as he turned off his weapon and stepped over the body slumped in front of him. His cape trailed behind him as Angel followed, every flutter revealing a dead body. “Let's go. We got what we came for.”

Angel stepped around the bodies, eyes lingering for moments too long on steaming wounds and lifeless expressions of shock. She felt sick. “Right.” Her voice sounded thick with cotton as she followed behind her superior at a meager pace. 

He was an adept fighter, she knew that now. Three men wouldn’t be enough to defeat him. He’d cut them down all while keeping her safely shielded; and though Angel found the First Order distasteful, she couldn’t help but reach out involuntarily to grasp his cape. 

The fabric was thick, silky, and dark. Angel caught the bitter scent of his saber’s plasma and something pleasantly masculine. “Thank you.” 

Then, something surprising slipped out almost silently from the mask of the man who had, in the First Order’s eyes, taken ownership of her.

“...Sorry.”

Next

[connieshands]

Conrad Veidt Painting Mystery Updates

After a lot of back and forth I am now the proud owner of this piece and holy shit it is so much more beautiful in person!

Regarding the mystery surrounding his name on the frame below the cutoff are a few thoughts I have:

the name is on the frame, not the painting itself. So maybe the name has nothing to do with the portrait, however I highly doubt it's a totally separate thing. The painting is nailed in there and the nails look old and rusty. My assumption is the picture was nailed on there when it was finished

The name has a lot of similarities to his own signature. I think there is a good chance it came from his hand. Here is my analysis on this:

(Keep in mind, I am an absolute amateur, so don't take anything I say too seriously)

If we compare the name on the frame to a signature from the same year we can see that especially the beginning 4 letters have a lot in common with the autograph: The C is missing the loop up top, but is generally slanted the same way and characteristicly for his hand the lower part rather than curling up again moves in a right direction. The V is the most noticable. It has the typical little hook on the left leg and also the very far reaching right leg thats stretches over the e. That letter on the other hand is not quite as clear. The loop of the e does not start out on as high of a point than the one on the autograph. However the general proportions of the e with the relatively high loop are similar and the way it continues into the i and the i in general are practically the same as in Connie's signature. Now the dt and the 22 is where the similarities stop. The dt in Connies signatures are always right-leaning, while the ones on the frame lean left. the 22 also doesn't look similar at all.

So in conclusion - I am optimistic it could be his signature, given the many similarities, but we cannot be sure yet. We also have to keep in mind that the name on the frame is barely 5mm tall and written in wood and on a slight slope, so how similar to writing on paper can that really be?

regarding the writing next to the name and date - I have no idea what it sais. It could say Berlin, but it's really hard to make out, even irl.

So, assuming he wrote this - what are the options? Could it just have been a separate frame of his or a painting he owned- not really. What weirdo signs his own frame or a painting he bought? And with a date at that.

Could it have been an autograph on a painting made by a fan? I don't think so. He did not write out the full Conrad, which he always did on his autographs. Also the name is super tiny. Why would he have made it so incredibly small when signing something?

I currently think the option that he made this painting is one of the most realistic

There are fingerprints in the back of the painting in the paint. Almost certainly produced when making the painting. So if this was really done by Connie I might have HIS FINGERPRINTS !!! Hgahdnfkndjendndndj

I need outside perspective here. Is all this just wishful thinking on my part? What are other possibilities this could be, keeping in mind the facts I just told you? Assuming the signature is not done by him. Who could have made it and why?

The painting smells like cigarettes. I know that that has nothing to do with anything I just wanted you to know.

The seller is very desinterested in the whole thing and I could barley get him to talk about anything regarding the painting. I'm still hoping to get an answer to my question of where he got it from but I am not very confident in that regard.

I have already contacted a historian I personally know and he gave me the helpful tip that to find anything out about it I should probably go the Feininger route, as he is much more known today. So I guess I'll be reading into him and contacting Feininger experts.

If anyone else has any other leads or ideas or wants to assist me in my journey to finding out more about this painting please don't hesitate to contact me either here or on the Connie Discord I made.

That's it for now. I'm so excited to dig into this mystery!

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 14 Rewatch:  “In the Name of Honor”

The basics:  The team searches for a missing Navy lieutenant.

Written by:   Matt Klafter co-wrote “Smokescreen Part II”, "A Fait Accompli" and “Hard for the Money” and was the sole writer for “Where Loyalties Lie”.

Directed by:  Dan Liu directed “Watch Over Me”, “If the Fates Allow” and “Love Kills”.

Guest stars of note:  Ashwin Gore returns from season 13’s “Genesis” as ONI Inspector General Akhil Ali; Gregory D. Gadson returns as Col. Jackson Ladd from “Of Value”; Duncan Campbell is back from “Best Seller” as Agent Castor; NFL star Tony Gonzales as Capt. Alonzo; Soraya Kelley as Zahra Mahmad; Marco Khan as Ahmad Mahmad; Asher Deva as Muhammad Hasan; Toktam Aboozary as Mina Mahmad; Eric Satterberg as Roger and Joshua Thomson as Jeremy.

Our heroes:  Think a Navy Lieutenant is missing for a military reason but find out there is more to her disappearance.

What important things did we learn about: Callen:  Can fix his jammed weapon in a hurry. Sam:  Looks at the water to find some peace. Kensi:  Thinks she can get her shot off before being surrounded. Deeks:  Won’t get to Kensi in time. Fatima:  Woman, life, freedom Rountree:  Working to make sure Kilbride’s ass is not being chewed. Kilbride:  Asked Col. Ladd for a favor.

What not so important things did we learn about: Callen:  Thinks Sam is becoming Raymond. Sam:   Not turning into Raymond. Kensi:   Not getting the “Pretty Woman” references. Deeks:  Fan of the kebobs. Fatima:  Training with Akhil. Rountree:   Working inside today. Kilbride:   Brought Col. Ladd to the super-secret office.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Not helping the Admiral today though Kensi thinks she might be.

Who's down with OTP:  Deeks was more under control than usual when Kensi was in danger.  Was happy as always to see her safe back in the office.  Fatima is working through any feelings she may have for Akhil.

Who's down with BrOTP:  Callen and Sam were perfectly Callen and Sam in the episode.  Sam was a good friend/teammate/mentor to Fatima at the end of the episode.  Kilbride and Col. Ladd are besties.

Fashion review:  Callen wore a white and blue plaid button down shirt.  Long sleeve tees for Sam (black) and Deeks (darker blue).  Kensi wears a great long-sleeve pull-over sweater.  She and Deeks wear dark rain jackets at the crime scene.  Fatima starts the episode in workout gear – oversized light grey sweatshirt.  Wears a spiffy brown leather jacket with a white turtleneck for the rest of the episode.  Rountree had a green jacket with black pockets over a black tee.  Kilbride was in his Kilbride uniform – medium blue three-piece suit, light blue dress shirt, red and blue tie.  He donned a trench coat when visiting Col. Ladd.

Music:   “Messenger” by Mamak Khadem plays at the end as Fatima is taking in her day.

Any notable cut scene:  No.

Quote:  Sam:  “I’ve spent a lot of time staring out at this water, searching for answers.” Fatima:  “Any tips?  I'm coming up empty.” Sam:  “You doing okay?” Fatima:  “Physically? Yeah.  Emotionally, mentally and spiritually?  I don't know how to answer that.” Sam:  “Well, you don't need to have the answers.  Not right now.” Fatima:  “I just...I keep thinking about all the women out there...not allowed to make their own life choices.  What to wear.  Who to marry.  What they can and can't do with their own bodies.  Freedom of thought, freedom of choice. Sam:  “It's terrifying to some people.” Fatima:  “It's not fair.” Sam:  “The world will never be fair.  But it could be better.  Good things are happening.  Even though it doesn't  always feel like it.” Fatima:  “I just wish they would happen faster.”

Anything else:  The previously-s include a greatest hits package for Akhil Ali and Col. Ladd.  Fatima wakes up in a car on fire, tied to the head rest.  In the driver’s seat is in unconscious Kensi. 

Eight hours earlier, Fatima is working out with Akhil with a trainer named Jeremy who is part of Herbie’s military training company.  As Fatima walks away, Akhil asks how his training was going.  Jeremy was impressed that Akhil stopped making squeaking sounds whenever he was grabbed.

Fatima tells Akhil that for his first self-defense class, he did better than expected.  Fatima thinks he will be bringing down a suspected without breaking his nose no in time.  Akhil is happy to spend this time with Fatima but maybe in the future they’d spend time together by taking a nice walk.  The two make dinner plans.

Callen and Sam are in the armory discussing the use of armrests on a plane.  Three seats, four armrests according to Sam.  One passenger – in this case Sam – get the second  armrest.  “Simple math,” according to Sam.  Callen thinks Sam bullies his way to that second seat rest.  He also notices that Sam is worried.  And Sam is.  He’s going on a trip and leaving Raymond with his caretaker Constance.  Callen notes that even Sam thinks things have never been better with Raymond now that Constance in the picture.  Sam is going across the country to see Aiden.  Callen suggests taking Raymond across the country – it would be a great trip for the Hanna men.  Besides, if Sam is worried about Raymond he’s going to make everyone around him crazy and that’s the moment Sam becomes Raymond.  Everyone is going to Ops – they have a case.

Fatima and Rountree start the debrief in Ops, Lt. Zahra Mahmad is a Navy submariner.  For the last two years, she was working with a defense contractor in El Segundo.  Her team was working on an anti-detection program for nuclear subs.  Callen notes that sort of program could make her a target for any country interested in hiding their nuclear subs or finding America’s subs.  According to Zahra’s CO, she left work early the day before for personal reason.   She’s not answering calls or texts.  It isn’t like her.

Sam points out that Zahra isn’t missing for even 24-hours yet.  Maybe she’s off doing something and hasn’t had time to respond.  Fatima agrees but with Zahra’s knowledge and security clearances, ONI wants her found.  LAPD checked her home but nobody was there.  Her parents live in Northridge, they own an Afghani restaurant.  Fatima sees the menu is in Dari.   Callen says he’s going to see Zahra’s CO when Rountree tells Callen that Kilbride as the CO going to the boat shed.  Kilbride will do the interview.  Callen and Sam instead will go to Zahra’s home.  Fatima will go with Kensi and Deeks to the family’s restaurant.  With Fatima speaking Dari, she could help.  The parents could as well – they may know something that could lead to Zahra’s location.

At the boat shed, Kilbride dismisses Castor and speaks with Zahra’s CO, Captain Alonzo.  Kilbride tells Alonzo that Vice Admiral Hunt thinks the world of him and Alonzo is properly humble.  Kilbride know Alonzo’s background and thinks he’d work well at NCIS.  The Office of Military Support has an opening and Alonzo would be perfect.  Alonzo would consider the position. 

Turning to Zahra, Alonzo said that he’s never worked with anyone at her level.  One of the hardest workers he’s been around.  And suddenly she’s missing, the Admiral notes, what is really going on.  Zahra was part of a top secret mission, Alonzo’s hands are tied when it comes to discussing her work assignment.  Kilbride is having none of that.  The NCIS agents would be flying blind in their search for Zahra – “that’s how mistakes get made.”  The Navy has a mission that they are going through no matter what happened to Zahra.  Reading between the lines, the Navy has a secret mission using nuclear subs that if it is compromised, SEAL Team 2 will be going in instead – a suicide mission.  NCIS has 12-hours to find Zahra or the SEALs are going in.

In Zahra’s home, the place is as neat as a pin.  Callen finds a safe but their warrant won’t allow them to open the safe.  Sam gets a text from Rountree.  There was a suspicious activity report on Zahra’s bank account.  She cashed out $20,000.  Callen asked when was the last time Sam made a large cash transaction.  He hasn’t – checks, bank wires, credit cards.  More secure but much easier to trace.  Callen thinks Zahra wanted to disappear – and maybe sell some secrets.  Sam is going to get Rountree to expand the warrant to include the safe.

At the Mahmad’s restaurant, Deeks loves the smell of the place.  Fatima pulls out a menu and starts making recommendations.   Kensi sees Zahra’s mom.  Walking up, Kensi pulls out her badge and starts asking questions.  Zahra’s dad stops the one-way conversation.  His wife’s cooking is a literal chef’s kiss but her English is not very good.  Deeks explains he has the exact opposite problem.  That earns him a chuckle from Zahra’s dad, Ahmad, and a glare from Kensi. 

Kensi restarts her explanation, saying that Zahra is missing.  Ahmad is stunned.  The family last got together the previous Saturday.  Zahra was her normal, happy self.  Zahra’s mom, Mina, walks away crying.  Kensi asks if Zahra seemed like she was in trouble but Ahmad says no.  Mina is openly weeping.  Deeks asks about Zahra’s brother.  Ahmad says he is studying in London, working on his master’s degree.  Fatima asks if the siblings are close.  Ahmad says they are all close – family means everything to them.  Mina asks Ahmad why are they asking questions about their son Omar. 

Kensi asks if they know anyone who would know about Zahra.  Ahmad says no, explaining that 30-years ago, their families left Afghanistan.  Almost everyone went to Pakistan but Ahmad and Mina went to America to chase their dream – opening a restaurant, raising their children where they would be safe from violence.  Fatima is getting weepy.  Ahmad asks Kensi to find Zahra and bring her home to her family.  Ahmad comforts his wife.

Leaving the restaurant, Fatima is sure that the brother is suspicious.  Mina spoke to Ahmad about Omar when they were questioning Ahmad.  Mina may not speak English but she understood what Kensi, Deeks and Fatima were saying.  Deeks can’t understand why Mina would pretend she didn’t understand – her daughter is missing, NCIS is trying to find her.  Fatima thinks as immigrants, the Mahmads may not trust law enforcement.  Her parents had issues before Fatima joined NCIS, “and they live in Beverly Hills.”  Kilbride wants them all back in Ops, Kensi is going to look into Omar.

While Callen is trying to crack Zahra’s safe, Sam is being cranky.  Callen notes Raymond would be cranky too.  Sam finds Zahra’s license, car registration and EZ-Pass in a jar on a book shelf.  Zahra is traveling and doesn’t want to be found.  Sam has Rountree check Kaleidoscope for Zahra’s car.  Callen finally gets into the safe and finds some jewelry and family items.  Also her passport.  If Zahra was looking to get out of town, she’d take those things.  Sam thinks maybe Zahra really was kidnapped.  “Or she wants us to thinks she was,” Sam adds. 

Rountree calls.  Looking through Zahra’s phone, she mostly speaks to her parents but has had daily calls for the last seven months with a Ted Brown.  Sam wonders if he’s a boyfriend but Zahra’s parents never mentioned a boyfriend, unless she was keeping things quiet until they got more serious.  Rountree finds that Brown has a sealed juvie record and a lot of debt – credit cards and high interest college loans.  The $20,000 could be for Brown or Brown could be extorting her.

An unhappy Kilbride walks into Ops.  He just got his “ass chewed” by an under-secretary in the Navy.  “I don’t like getting my ass chewed, makes it uncomfortable to sit.”  He wants a sit-rep on Zahra.  Rountree found her car – it has been in the shop since the weekend.  She’s been using a loaner.  That car is parked in a lot downtown.  Kensi and Deeks are going to talk to Ted Brown.  Kilbride wants answers before he has nothing left to sit on.

Walking to Ted Brown’s home, Deeks is stunned that Fatima’s parents were suspicious of the police and “they live in one of the wealthiest zip codes in America.”  He’s worried about what Rosa will be dealing with.  Kensi reminds him that while they won’t be there all the time for Rosa, they will be there and will help her.  Ted Brown’s door is opened, obviously forced entry.  Inside, Deeks finds a tortured but still alive Ted Brown.

In the garage, Sam finds a note in Zahra’s loaner that says “Roger 8 Broad”.  Callen thinks 8 Broad could be 8th and Broadway, which is just a few blocks from the garage.  There is a currency exchange on 8th and Broadway with some criminal times.  With $20,000, Zahra could be in trouble.  Sam thinks if a Roger works there, Roger has some explaining to do.

Walking up to Col. Ladd at an outdoor park’s lunch tables, Kilbride makes fun of the Colonel’s kombucha drink.  Ladd is drinking it because it clears up the bad bacteria in his gut.  The Admiral mentions prune juice doing the same job.  Speaking of jobs, Kilbride asks how Ladd is doing with the Space Force.  Ladd has no complaints except his title – “Director of Warfare Integration at the Space System Command” is a mouthful.  Ladd is thrilled his new employer sees his head and his heart, not his right and left legs.  The Admiral asks a favor – with Ladd getting his security clearance back, could he do some digging about the Navy’s secret mission.  “I know you don’t owe me or your country any debt…”  Ladd cuts Kilbride off – “what the hell do you need me to do?”

A crime scene tech gives Kensi Ted’s smashed cellphone.  Ted is alive but in a coma.  After dealing with a woman who wanted to braid Deeks’s hair, Deeks tells Kensi the woman saw an unfamiliar SUV in Ted’s driveway the prior day.  Rountree is looking for security camera footage of the vehicle.  Reviewing the case, Zahra could have been swept up by people who wanted their money back from debt-ridden Ted.  Or someone was looking for Zahra and beat Ted up to try to get to her.  There are photos in Ted’s home – Zahra and Ted are obviously in love.

At the currency exchange, Roger is working the desk.  Callen and Sam show him a photo of Zahra, who he claims he’s never seen before.  Sam asks to see the security cameras but Roger doesn’t have any.  Callen points out a fake plant that has a camera, Sam a clock radio and an owl figurine that are likely cameras.  Roger finds plants calming, even fakes ones.  The clock radio and owl figurine are just décor.  Callen explains that Zahra’s car is in the parking lot nearby where they found the address of  the currency exchange’s location and Roger’s name written on a note.  He's the last one to see her alive and the could be an accomplice to the kidnapping of a Naval Officer.  Roger becomes a bit more helpful.  Zahra was in about a week ago.  He is a hawala broker on the side – someone who send money overseas without getting the government involved.  This is illegal if he’s not registered (he’s not) and if he’s not telling the government about the exchanges (he’s not).  Zahra was supposed to send some money to an account in Pakistan but never showed up.

Rountree found the SUV outside of Brown’s house – it was a rental from a small rental company that accepts cash and a now known fake ID.  The bad guys picked up the SUV at the rental location so Rountree is checking Ubers and taxis dropping people off.  Fatima found footage of Zahra being grabbed at the parking lot.  It is the same SUV as the one parked outside of Brown’s house.  She tells Callen and Sam the kidnappers wore masks and were well-armed.  Zahra never had a chance.

In the gadget area, which has been woefully underused since Eric and Nell left for Japan, Kensi is trying to open Brown’s phone with no luck.  Deeks stops by as she nearly drops it, calling the phone a “slippery little sucker”.  Fatima joins in, recognizing the “Pretty Woman” reference.  Kensi thinks she’s working with Siskel and Ebert and passes the phone to Deeks.  Fatima found Zahra’s brother Omar, who is living in San Francisco, not London.  And Omar hasn’t spoken to his parents in years.  This contradicts Ahmad’s statement that the family is very close.  Omar wasn’t really open about what was going on but Fatima tells them Ahmad and Mina believe in a strict adherence to the Koran.  Omar said he was beaten as a child for being too Western.  Kensi and Fatima decide to see Ahmad and Mina again, Deeks is going to try to get the sim card out of Brown’s phone.

In Ops, Rountree tells Deeks he’s found the SUV driver – Muhammad Hasan.  Looking at his social media and online postings in the last year, Hasan has become a member of an Islamic military sect.  Hasan has a flight out of LA today – whatever he’s in Los Angeles to do, it finishes today.

Rountree calls Callen and Sam to update them on Hasan.  This may have nothing to do with her work in the Navy.  Kilbride calls – it certainly has nothing to do with the secret Navy mission.  The Navy is going to track Russian military activity in the Arctic – staging nuclear weapons.  Zahra was part of the team making the US subs untraceable.  She knew nothing about the mission in the Artic.  Kilbride wants Zahra found now.

In the office, Deeks found that Ahmad his a hotel suite booked in Pakistan later this year for a wedding.  A man named Bashir Khan is getting married and he’s getting married to Zahra.  Khan is a wealthy man – could he be behind this?  Sam doesn’t think so, Zahra’s parents wouldn’t allow her to marry a non-Muslim man.  Instead, they put together an arranged marriage.  Zahra’s $20,000 withdrawal may have been an attempt to buy her freedom.  Refusing the marriage would dishonor the family.  Deeks wonders if this was an honor killing.  Callen says they have no proof that Zahra is dead yet.  But suddenly Kensi and Fatima’s trip to the restaurant is a bit more worrisome.

Kensi and Fatima walk into the restaurant.  The place has been trashed.

Callen and Sam are on their way to the restaurant, Deeks is going too until Kilbride pops up on the plasma behind Deeks’s desk.  Deeks is ordered to stay in the office.

Mina Ahmad is speaking from the back of the restaurant.  Fatima replies in Dari.  Mina is tending to her husband, who looks like he’s been beaten.  On comms, Deeks warns them that the parents may be involved in Zahra’s kidnapping.  Hasan comes out from the kitchen.  He’s going to shoot Mina if Kensi and Fatima don’t drop their weapons.

Rountree tells Callen and Sam that Hasan is Zahra’s cousin.  There are two more cousins in Los Angeles.

Kensi and Fatima are surrounded by the Hasan brothers.  Mina asks Hasan not to go through with the plan.  Hasan explains that Mina failed to raise Zahra properly. 

Callen and Sam are 10-minutes out.  Deeks is not happy.  Kensi agrees to dropping the weapons.  She puts her gun on the ground but pulls out a baton. She and Fatima try to fight but eventually both women are knocked out.  Deeks is really not doing well. 

Kensi and Fatima’s trackers are offline.  The Audi is still outside of the restaurant but Kensi and Fatima are likely on the move.  Callen calms Deeks down and gets Rountree in the mix.  Deeks finds another Hasan family member, who owns a warehouse in Long Beach.  Callen and Sam are on their way.

And we’re back in the beginning with Fatima struggling to get Kensi to wake up and to get out of the car where they are trapped.  The area outside of the vehicle is ablaze.  Callen and Sam arrive but are taking fire from the Hasan brothers. 

Deeks runs out of Ops, only to be met by Kilbride.  Deeks is told he won’t get out to Long Beach in time to save Kensi but he could work to put out the fire from Ops.  In Ops, Deeks gets a visual of a fire extinguisher near the warehouse door. 

Callen and Sam make their way to the warehouse but Callen’s gun jams.  The Hasans are still firing away and the flames are all around the car with Kensi and Fatima.   

Fatima gets free and starts untying Kensi.  Kensi is finally awake. 

Callen gets his gun unjammed just in time to see the vehicle where Kensi and Fatima were blow up to a million pieces.

Deeks is very quiet until Sam says he can see Kensi and Fatima.  Deeks offers a “thank God” but the Admiral warns him not to offer thanks just yet. 

Kensi and Fatima hear Zahra screaming.  She’s being pulled to a different SUV by Hasan.  When Zahra tries to pull away, she knocked to the ground and kicked.  Kensi pops up and threatens to kick Hasan’s ass.  As Kensi pushes a dumpster toward Hasan, Hasan opens fire on the dumpster.  This gives Fatima time to find a pipe and knock Hasan out from behind.  She says “bye bitch” in Dari – which is a great call back.

Callen and Sam make quick work of the rest of the Hasan brothers.  Kensi and Fatima comfort a beaten Zahra.

In the Admiral’s office, he’s sharing stories with Col. Ladd.  Kilbride thanks Ladd for taking a big risk to help him.  Ladd replies that the only reason he has something to risk is because of the Admiral.  Ladd is calling it a day because if they hang around anymore, they’d probably wind up in a bar.  Those days are over for Ladd.  The two men hug – Ladd has the Admiral’s back - “Always.”

Rountree explains to Deeks as they go down the stairs from Ops that Zahra’s uncle was in touch with the Hasans.  The uncle was pulling the strings, the parents were not involved.  Kensi arrives with Callen.  Deeks gives Kensi a big hug and asks they never do this again.  Zahra is bruised but otherwise alright.  She’s with Ted in the hospital.  Ted’s awake and expected to make a full recovery.  As Rountree leaves, Deeks is stunned that Zahra’s family would do this to her.  Kensi brings up that it was all done in the name of honor.  Callen disagrees – it isn’t honor, it is fear. 

Kilbride arrives – the artic recon mission was a success.  Callen asks how the Admiral found out about the recon mission.  Kilbride said he turned to an  old friend.  “Hetty?” Kensi asks.  “I said friend,” Kilbride replies as he leaves.  Callen, Kensi and Deeks are packing up.  Callen asks about Ted’s phone that is on Deeks’s desk.  Kensi starts to laugh – he couldn’t get the SIM card out, could he.  He did.  But the SIM card was so damaged it only had the last sent text message on it.  Ted told Zahra he loved her.  Kensi’s not laughing now.  She’s hungry.  The three decide to go out for Afghani food.

In the boat shed on the back deck, Sam talks about the hours he spent looking for answers in the water.  He asks Fatima if she is OK.  Physically, she’s fine.  She doesn’t know about emotionally, spiritually and mentally.  She is worried about all the women who can’t make their own choices – what to wear, what to do with their lives, who to love.  Sam says the thoughts of choice terrify some people.  Fatima talks about things being fair but Sam says the world is never fair.  But they are getting better.  Fatima wants things to move faster. 

Akhil arrives but seeing Sam with Fatima says he can leave.  Sam says he has a flight and needs to leave.  Before he does, he tells Fatima the answers she is looking for will come.  After Sam leaves, Akhil asks about Fatima’s day but doesn’t push it.  He also asks about dinner – again not pushing it – but Fatima would like something to eat.  She just needs a second to compose herself.  Akhil gives her “as long as you need.”

As Fatima gives the water one last look, she says “Woman, life, freedom” in Farsi.

What head canon can be formed from here:    A really generic episode.  You could have replaced Rountree with Eric and not change a single line of dialogue.  Actually, wanna bet Hetty knows Col. Ladd as well.  And she certainly had her hand-picked allies in different agencies when she needed help.  Kilbride’s lines could be Hetty’s in season three.

The main storyline had an interesting aspect with Fatima looking at people who were corrupting her beliefs but mostly it was a generic NCIS/Law & Order/CSI the missing person isn’t missing for the reason you think episode.  Totally forgotten was Zahra’s brother who wasn’t getting his master’s degree and claimed his parents beat him.  We’re just going to forget about lying to federal agents and child abuse.

Nice callbacks to Jocko Willink’s season 13 Herbie character with the trainer in the gym and Akhil’s broken nose in season 13’s “Genesis”. 

Episode number:   314 overall, the 12th episode of season 14.