#nightingale hall

[helgiafterdark]

[opera-ghosts]

Today I will remember the extraordinary soprano Adelina Patti (1843-1919). Here we see this antique Postcard from 1898.

Spanish-born soprano who was one of the greatest of her century.

The Spanish-born soprano Adelina Patti was the most renowned singer in Europe and the United States for over 30 years. She was born in 1843, the youngest of three children, into a family of opera singers and musicians. Her parents were opera performers well known in Europe by the time of Patti's birth in Madrid, where they were on tour. Her Italian father was Salvatore Patti; her Spanish mother was Caterina Chiesa Barili-Patti , known before her marriage as Signora Barili. Caterina also had four children from an earlier marriage, and all seven of her children would enjoy successful careers as singers.

When Adelina Patti was four the family moved to New York, where her father became an opera house manager. Her half-brother Ettore Barili gave Patti voice lessons starting at age five; by the age of seven Adelina was recognized as a child prodigy and the next year she gave her debut concert at New York City's Tripler Hall. Audiences and critics at subsequent concerts were stunned by the maturity, range, and purity of her voice. Her success in New York led to a three-year tour of American cities, unprecedented for such a young child, from 1851 to 1854. A second concert tour followed in 1857. Patti's sister Amelia Patti was married to the renowned pianist Maurice Strakosch; he took care of Adelina while on tour and served as her manager, instructor, and accompanist. She received only a minimal education, although her family background and musical training made her fluent in Spanish, French, Italian, and English. Her parents and Strakosch continued training Patti in the demands of operatic singing until they felt she was prepared to sing opera professionally. They arranged for her critically praised debut in the title role of Lucia di Lammermoor at the New York Academy of Music in 1859; she was 16, and would perform in opera continually for the next half-century, enjoying a career that was decades longer than that of most opera singers. Soon after her debut Patti faced serious family crises, as her father's struggling opera house failed and her mother left the family in 1860 to return to Rome. Patti then began to provide much of the family's income through her performances.

She toured the eastern United States and the West Indies from 1859 to 1861. In 1861, she went abroad, under the care of her father and Strakosch, to perform in La sonnambula at the Covent Garden opera house in London. She was enthusiastically received in London, where she was to perform every autumn for 25 years.

Patti remained on tour in Europe virtually continuously for 20 years, not returning to New York until 1881. She played to crowded houses in Berlin, Brussels, Amsterdam, Vienna, Paris, and across Italy. The operatic roles she chose ranged from light comedy, which she preferred, to tragedy, but whatever role she appeared in, critics were universal in their praise of her acting ability and the emotive power of her voice.

While in Paris in 1866, through her friendship with Empress Eugénie , Patti met the aristocrat Louis de Cahuzac, marquis de Caux, who served as a personal servant to the French emperor Napoleon III. They wished to marry but the marquis was not allowed to retain his privileged position at the French court if he married a working woman. Since Patti would not consider giving up her career, de Caux eventually resigned his post. This freed the couple to marry in 1868, when the new marchioness was 25 years old and her husband 42; however, the marriage lasted less than a decade, and they obtained a legal separation in 1877. As Patti was by then a celebrity throughout Europe and the United States, her marital problems brought scandal to the opera world and were the subject of often sensationalistic newspaper articles in many of the countries she had performed in. In the divorce suit, de Caux charged Patti with an adulterous affair with her co-star, Italian tenor Ernesto Nicolini. She admitted to the affair, but maintained in her defense that de Caux was jealous, controlling, and violent, and that he allowed her no access to her substantial income. The divorce would be finalized in 1885, when de Caux was awarded a settlement of $300,000 from Patti. Freed at last from her unhappy marriage, Patti married Nicolini a few months later.

Despite her personal problems during the separation and divorce, Patti continued to travel widely. She did a concert tour on her return to New York in 1881, followed by two operatic tours of the United States. Throughout the 1880s and 1890s, she was the most highly paid and most visible singer in Europe and the United States, receiving press coverage for her appearances as well as for her shocking personal life, legendary jewel collection, enormous wealth, and for her demanding, often capricious personality. She maintained homes across Europe, where she was friends with and frequently host to Europe's royalty and aristocracy. Her fame even led to mentions in contemporary literature and drama, such as Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Patti gave a farewell performance at the New York Metropolitan Opera House in 1887. She and Nicolini then left for another extended tour abroad, performing in Spain and Argentina. In 1895, at age 52, Patti gave six farewell appearances at Covent Garden. She and Nicolini then went into semi-retirement on an estate in Wales called Craig-y-Nos Castle which Patti had purchased some years before, and where she lived with Nicolini prior to their marriage. Patti adopted Wales as the native land she had never truly had, and was respected by the Welsh for her generosity to charitable causes and to her poor neighbors.

Ernesto Nicolini died in 1898. Patti, age 56, remarried a year later. Her third husband, a Swedish aristocrat named Baron Rolf Cederström, was a former military officer who, at the time Patti met him in 1897, was director of the Health Gymnastic Institute in London. At the time of their marriage, Cederström was only 28; their age difference and his occupation made the renowned opera star once again the subject of a flood of news articles and gossip columns.

The urgings of Patti's American fans called her back to the stage in 1903, when she began her last operatic tour at New York's Carnegie Hall. Although Patti was by then considerably older than most opera singers were at retirement, audiences were still moved by her powerful performances. In 1906, at age 63, she made her formal farewell appearance at Albert Hall in London. She also made numerous recordings which have preserved her work and demonstrate the remarkable purity and range which captivated her admirers and which had once led the composer Giuseppe Verdi to call Patti the greatest voice he had ever heard.

Adelina Patti was called out of retirement to perform occasionally at charity events in Wales and England through 1914, when she left the stage for good at age 71. She spent the remaining five years of her life at Craig-y-Nos Castle, where she died in 1919, at age 76. At her wish, her husband buried her in the celebrity cemetery Père Lachaise in Paris. He eventually remarried, selling Craig-y-Nos Castle to the Welsh National Memorial Association which converted it into the Adelina Patti Hospital. The hospital remained in operation until 1986, when the castle and its grounds were turned into a national park and cultural center.

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

Beautiful Women 👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

#Repost @jadecargill

——

Aura glowing- energy flowing 🍜🥂

Color and install: @envy_myhair

💄: @zashedbyjaz

#Repost @jadecargill

——

I'm a wave all by myself, calm steady. It’s been a Good Summer ☀️🍉

Install and color: @envy_myhair

💄: @zashedbyjaz

#Repost @zendaya

——

From the @lancomeofficial archives with @abdmstudio

#Repost @issarae

——

🏝️ vacation brought to you by @weareivypark 🏝️

—

Photographer: @johnjay.img

Face: @joannasimkin

Hair: @lovingyourhair

Fit: @beyonce

#Repost @willowwrestles

——

Main Event Barbie ™ 💖 #WatchROH #WatchCollision

📸: @brainbuster_

#Repost @chloebailey

——

bae watch 🌊

#Repost @hallebailey

——

🌋❤️

[nightingaletrash]

If you can breathe through your nose right now, cherish it because I am stuck reminiscing about how my nose wasn't blocked up two days ago 🙃

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

the first thing eryn does when she does wake up after dying is immediately try to fight everyone around her

[nightingalesresort]

10 Reasons Why a Resort with a Swimming Pool is the Perfect Getaway

When it comes to planning the perfect getaway, a resort with a swimming pool can elevate your vacation experience to new heights. Nightingales Resort, nestled in the picturesque town of Nathdwara, offers a serene escape with its exquisite surroundings and top-notch amenities.

In this article, we explore the 10 compelling reasons why choosing Nightingales Resort, with its inviting swimming pool, is the ideal choice for your next vacation.

Tranquil Ambiance: Nightingales Resort in Nathdwara boasts a tranquil ambiance that provides a peaceful retreat from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The soothing sounds of nature combined with the gentle splashing of the swimming pool create a serene atmosphere that rejuvenates both the mind and body.

Scenic Views: Situated in the heart of Nathdwara, Nightingales Resort offers breathtaking views of the surrounding landscapes. Enjoy the panoramic vistas while lounging by the pool, creating lasting memories against the backdrop of the picturesque town.

Refreshing Poolside Relaxation: Unwind and rejuvenate by the sparkling poolside at Nightingales Resort. Whether you prefer a refreshing swim or simply lounging on a comfortable sunbed, the pool area provides the perfect setting for relaxation and leisure.

Exquisite Dining at Nightingales Restaurant: Indulge your taste buds in the culinary delights served at Nightingales Restaurant, conveniently located within the resort premises. From local delicacies to international cuisine, the restaurant in Nathdwara offers a diverse menu to satisfy every palate, making your dining experience an integral part of your getaway.

Family-Friendly Atmosphere: Nightingales Resort is designed to cater to families, providing a safe and enjoyable environment for both children and adults. The swimming pool becomes a focal point for family fun, creating unforgettable moments for everyone.

Wellness and Recreation: A resort with a swimming pool not only offers relaxation but also serves as a hub for wellness and recreation. Nightingales Resort provides fitness facilities, spa services, and recreational activities to ensure a well-rounded and fulfilling vacation experience.

Event and Conference Facilities: For those seeking a blend of work and leisure, Nightingales Resort offers state-of-the-art event and conference facilities. The swimming pool area can also be utilized for team-building activities, creating a unique and inspiring backdrop for professional gatherings.

Luxurious Accommodations: Your getaway is incomplete without comfortable and luxurious accommodations. Nightingales Resort provides well-appointed rooms and suites, ensuring a restful stay after a day of exploration and poolside relaxation.

Personalized Services: Nightingales Resort takes pride in offering personalized services to its guests. The attentive staff is dedicated to making your stay memorable, ensuring that your needs are met with a warm and welcoming approach.

Proximity to Nathdwara Attractions: Located conveniently, Nightingales Resort provides easy access to the enchanting attractions of Nathdwara. Explore the town's rich cultural heritage, visit renowned temples, and experience the vibrant local life—all within close proximity to the resort.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, Nightingales Resort in Nathdwara, with its inviting swimming pool and a myriad of amenities, stands as the perfect getaway destination. Whether you seek tranquility, adventure, or a combination of both, this resort offers a holistic experience that caters to all your vacation needs. Immerse yourself in the luxury, warmth, and beauty of Nightingales Resort for an unforgettable escape in the heart of Nathdwara.

[hello-eden]

To Long Of A Wait

Tim hates being the one most well known for business on the civilian side.

Tim and Bruce are stuck at a dinner with Vladimir Masters. Tim has no idea who he's trying to impress; the sports team merch and Gothic Castle do not go well together. The two of them are there to find evidence of the money laundering and blackmail scheme that has all signs pointing to Masters.

The plan was originally for Bruce to keep him distracted and Tim to be able to search through the office but Vladimir Masters brought his heir with him. not much is known of his heir.

Daniel Nightingale is a 17-year-old transgender male who is Vladimir Masters' godson. He grew up in a small town with Amity Park That ended up going under lockdown because of some sort of sickness. 

Tim knows that the sickness is a cover story. It was some sort of Supernatural infestation but whether Daniel's parents were in the know or not he was sent away to live with his Godfather.

Daniel has been quite nice so far even if he looks very sick. Tim doesn't doubt that Vladimir is the one forcing him to go to this dinner.

Daniel waits only a few minutes after he is done before saying he is going to the bathroom. He is not even trying to conceal the fact he's trying to get as far as he can.

Tim waits 15 minutes before announcing he is going to the washroom too. Master's tries to offer for him to lead the way but Tim just says he remembers the tour and leaves.

—------------------------------------------

Tim turns into the hallway that has Vladimir Masters' work office. He's about to open the door when he hears the sound of throwing up. He waits there for a moment realizing that the bathroom Daniel is using is right beside the office. it is as far away from the dining room you can possibly go, which is probably why he used it. 

Tim hears the sound of washing hands and goes into the office. Behind him he locks the door and listens for Daniel to leave. He hears footsteps walk away.

Tim speeds quickly to the desk and looks over the files. He knows he doesn't have a lot of time especially if Daniel asks where he is. Tim doesn't find anything to concrete but he does find a couple of shady deals with an off branch of Cadmus and a few of the shader government departments. 

Tim takes a few photos and makes sure everything's in place before he walks out. He makes sure no one's in the hall and he walks back to the dining room. 

Tim goes on his phone making sure to hack into the security to corrupt the footage so that no one notices. they really should get better security Tim thinks before he hears talking. He hides behind the corner and hears is Daniel with who he assumes is a member of their staff. 

“I'm fine Trisha. it's just a little bit of morning sickness, I'm not dying” Tim can hear a little giggle at the end like they just told an inside joke

“ He shouldn't be making you go at all. You've had a very hard week." He hears a woman that he believes is Trisha start scolding Daniel.

 “It's not my first rodeo. I know what I'm doing. I have to last maybe another hour before I can get an excuse. I can last another hour.” Daniel tries to soothe Trisa.

 Tim is starting to think this is a whole lot more complicated

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[helgiafterdark]

i just love them sm

[opera-ghosts]

Julia Culp - "Mon Coeur S'ouvre A Ta Voix" from Samson Et Dalila (1915) by Saint-Saëns.

Julia Bertha Culp - nickname Juultje - was born on 6 October 1880 at Groningen in the Northern part of the Netherlands as daughter of Baruch Culp, musician and merchant, and Sara Cohen. The Culp's belonged to a Jewish family of comedians and musicians. So Julia's father was musician of profession in the Groninger Harmony Orchestra. In a book Julia wrote in 1915 - when she was the height of her fame - she declared: "My mother discovered my beautiful voice when I was two years old, for cried so terribly that she constantly tald my father "you see she will become a singer, she has such lungs and temperament." My father didn't believe it, so when I was seven years old he wonted me - and her sister Betty - to study the violin and piano first'. But at then her voice was obviously developing fast and soon she was singing at concerts in her home town and in Amsterdam, where she had gone to study with Cornélie van Zanten at the Conservatory there, gaining first-class honours in 1900.

She moved to Berlin to be at the heart of cultural life on the Continent and her debut took place there in 1901. Although she was success, she felt she still had a lot to learn and Wilhelm Berger, accompanist at her debut, introduced her to Etelka Gerster, famous soprano and teacher. Gerster was convinced of the quality of Culp's voice and would give her lessons with delay of payment. Culps habit to sing somewhat to slowly was corrected by Gerster. She sang at a tea party to honour the famed Mathilde Marchesi given at Gerster's school. Long after, Lotte Lehmann recalled the occasion and how Culp's "wonderful voice floated in silver streams through the room." After Maafdenburg took duty for a well know singer at a concert with pianist Ferruccio Busoni here name was quickly established. From 1905, after recital with Coenraad Bos, leading accompanist of his day, in Amsterdam, she felt ready to embark an international career. She appeared in various European cities, once with Grieg, once with Mengelberg in Amsterdam, once with Klemperer in Prague, once with Fritz Busch at the piano in Gotha: more often she was partnered by her younger sister Betsy. Later Culp appeared with, among others, Richard Strauss and Saint-Saëns. In May 1911 she sang the Angel in "The Dream of Gerontius" in London under Wood, who coached her specially for the part. She also appeared with Sir Beecham in the premiere of Deliys's Songs of the Sunset.

In 1913 she finally reached the United States, a visit witch eventually led to the recordings she made. The critics unanimously praised her debut at Carnegie Hall, even thiugh she had hardly recovered from stormy Atlantic crossing. One critic wrote: "Very handsome of presence of striking personality, she gives tremendous autority and conviction to her utterance, and her voice is supported by most remarkable breath - control conceivable." Another commented: "Mada, Culp is a past , mistress at spinnig the tone, and she thus archives ravishing effects with her pianissimo… She breathes so easily that her phrasing is a marvel of sustained emission. These verdicts are amply confirmed by her recordings. They include many of the items she sang on that occasion and at a further recital in February. Until 1917 "The Dutch Nightingale" made yearly long, undermining but successfully throough North - as well as South America, at which she sometimes sang together with the tenor Enrico Caruso. She continued to appear in the USA to increasing acclaim until wae intevened in 1917. In 1916 she appeared before President Woodrow Wilson at the White House in Washinfton, together with Pablo Casals, Percy Grainger and Granados, who tragically died at sea soon afterwards (Culp sang at a benefit concert for his children).

After her second marriage to a Czech 25 years her senior in 1919, she gradually withdrew from burden of recitals, but she continued to appear occasionally during the 1920s, giving her last public concert in 1930. After her husband died in 1934 she took up a teaching post in Vienna. The last time her voice heard was in a broadcast in 1935. When the German moved into Vienna, she feld to Amsterdam together with here sister Betsy, where, being partly Jewish, both were forced into hiding. Furtwängler intervened and she was allowed to return to her flat. She continued to live there quietly after the war with her sister until Betsy's deathin 1958. Betsy's dyeing in 1958 meaned a hard blow to Julia. She died a fortnight after her 90th birthday in 1970 at the 13th October. Only a few people knew at that time, that despised the shotness of her career, she was one of the Netherlands greast singers.

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

Willow 👑

infamous.photos:

 Just A Star Amongst Others ⭐️✨

Fantasia 👑

tasiaworld:

Even if you can’t see it, it’s all working out for your good. Walk with Trust and Purpose so the rest can Align! 💜💜\n\n📸: @sonejr

tasiaworld:

I have always admired @leonardodicaprio work and I messed up my whole speech when I spotted him last night!! #NewBestFriend\nMe and Hubby have watched “All” of his Movies 🍿

Even Angels, Even Angels Learn to Fly! 💜💜💜 #PurpleLove 📸: @sonejr

And that’s a wrap! All things Purple 💜.

essence:

Got damn the dam is broken and the overflow of goodness is alive - When we see you. Call us Keith Lee because the reviews are in: 1.) The face is beat like a 808 Sonic Boom at Jackson State University 2.) The tailoring on this look is a dream girl - It’s DIVINE, Loretta 3.) If the saints were marching in, you would be the lead 4.) The location on this picture should be Baltimore -because we are RAVEN Quick Question: How does it feel to be God’s and our SGRHO favorite? Get that OSCAR ready. Here comes Fantasia. 📸:

I Wanna Dance With Somebody Who Loves Me! #moviepremiere #WhitneyHouston @wannadancemovie @sonypictures @primarywave GLAM Stylist: @1800dhawk MUA: @tlcdivo Hair: @derickuscrawford 📸: @sonejr

Celebrating the Best in Black, Latino and AAPI achievements at a gala event on Dec 4th!! @criticschoice #CCCelebration #CriticsChoice

Simone 👑

simoneashley:

Las Vegas Grand Prix with @heineken_us 🏎️🏁What an entertaining race and the best time with people I love ❤️#heinekenpartner

Garcelle 👑

garcelle:

Art Director/Stylist/Producer/Interviewer - Oliver Brown @olvrbrwn Photographer - Erick Robinson @imerickrobinson Key Hairstylist - Devante Turnbull @turnbullhair Key Makeup Artist - Natalie Malchev @glambynatalie Assistant Stylist - Safa Haque @magnificent_misfit Assistant Stylist - India Young @iamindiayoung Assistant Stvlist - Tonya Jones @tljones422 Assistant Stylist - Nekeyta Brunson @nekeytab\nAssistant Stylist - Ryan Berry @RyanB3rry Videographer - Charles Hawthorne @regenerationproductions @chillinwitcharles BTS Photographer - Da'Jon Johnson @cappedbydj BTS Photographer - Kayla Turpin @kaylaturpinphotography Post Production: Stevie D. @steviedphotos \nViktoria Skopichenko @retouch_skopi\ Look 1: Dress: Hervé Léger @herveleger Shoes: Ingiliz @ingiliz_official Look 2: White Suit: Rebeca Crews (@Rebeccacrewsofficial) Glasses: Vuliwear @vuliwear_official Necklace: Stylist Own Shoes: Ingiliz @ingiliz_official Look 3: Dress: CPLUS @cplusseries Heels: Stylist Own Look 4: Rooftop Dress: Romel Caylan (@Rccaylanatelierofficial) Heels: Stylist Own Look 5: Dress: Fouy Chov (@Fouychovcouture) Heels: Tom Ford @tomford\nGloves: Stylist Own Look 6: Dress: Ella Zahlan (@ellazahlan) Earrings: Georgina Jewelry (@georginajewelryofficial) Location and special sponsor @hotelfigueroa

[clockwayswrites]

Both Ways at Once Part 1

wc 868, Masterpost

“You’ve read the dossier?”

The clipped words were in time with their quick steps down the pristine white hall.

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Unlike you, Hellblazer, I read my contracts before I sign them.”

“You wound me, Pomp,” John said, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I’m just trying to protect you from the Big Bad Bat. He’s had a bit of a mare over this case. Hell, as a consultant, you shouldn’t even be seeing this with the access level things are at, but…”

“But you’re stuck and need my pretty baby blues on things to help you out,” Danny said, batting his lashes obnoxiously at John.

“Fuck off,” John said without any heat and shoved Danny away. “But the Bat is anxious about it. All the Bats are. If you can help us solve it sooner, then the better, because when the Bats are on edge, everyone is on edge. And it’s a fucking nightmare around here already with all the bloody do-gooders let alone when they’re all worked up about something…”

“Everyone’s on edge, got it.”

“Nightingale,” John said, voice unusually serious— serious enough to make Danny stop even without the hand on his arm. “I’m not saying this lightly. I like you, like you well enough for a psychopomp and whatever the fuck else you are at least. Tread lightly.”

“Got it, Constantine. I’ll work extra hard not to piss anyone off,” Danny said, patting John’s hand with his own tattooed one. Danny picked back up his same quick pace, but his mind now spun trying to figure out what exactly he was walking into. The dossier hadn’t gone into details, just conditions. Supposedly the risk— some side effect created by a villainous magical spell gone wrong— was presently and thoroughly contained. Danny would be able to observe the risk, the individual originally affected, and the items present at the time. He was not to interact directly with the risk, answer it’s questions, or under any circumstance touch it.

It read as a pretty standard contract magical unknown.

John wouldn’t be this concerned by a standard magical unknown. So what was he about to walk into? It seemed like he might actually want to listen to John this time, even if that was always a fifty-fifty chance of being an absurdly stupid idea.

Danny shifted his grip anxiously on the handle of his kit: an old traveling salesman’s briefcase fitted out with a careful collection of haphazard items. Most of the other occult practitioners mocked Danny’s tendency for used items. Half burned candles, old books wiped and rewritten, estate sale candy dishes— odd choices for most people, but for Danny they sang. They spilled the secrets of the world known and unknown to him. He had to trust that between his tools and his skills (let them believe he was a mere psychopomp), he would come out of this at least safe, if not with answers.

Didn’t mean that a few of his tattoos didn’t crawl in warning.

(Who knew what spot of skin that damn ink moth would wander to now.)

“Justice Leaguers,” Danny greeted with a nod as they finally finished winding through repetitive hallways and stopped outside a room.

“Nightingale, thank you for being able to attend to this so promptly,” Wonder Woman greeted him. Of the Justice League members (outside of the Darks) that Danny had interacted with on other consulting gigs she might be Danny’s favorite, so he offered her a smile.

“Of course, it sounded like things were possibly on a time table from the contract, so I’m glad I was between pressing matters,” Danny said. Right then his most pressing matter was a need to find a laundry mat, but the Justice League certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Right, well,” John jumped in when no one else said anything, not that Danny had expected much from Batman with how he was lurking like a shadow. “Er, this way.”

Danny glanced at the room label of ‘containment cells’ as the door unlocked with a clank and hissed open. After John’s warning, he wasn’t surprised that they were taking whatever this was seriously.

There was more white and gleaming metal behind the door. A neat row of spartan cells were set behind thick acrylic glass and metal. Danny’s eyes locked on the figure in the third cell. He stumbled.

He might be sick.

“What the fuck are you all doing?!” The words ripped from Danny in a snarl.

That was a protector spirit.

He brushed past Wonder Woman and through John’s reaching arm.

They had a protector spirit in a cell.

Intangibility washed over Danny, cold as always, as he stepped through the glass wall of the cell.

The spirit stopped in their pacing, the opaque red helmet tilting.

John screamed something at him.

The flashing red of alarms glinted off gleaming surfaces.

Danny reached out and rested his hand over the spirit’s sternum, and they practically crumpled around the touch. Gloved hands clung desperately to Danny’s arm.

A low growl rumbled in Danny’s chest. “They’re hurting you.”

They had a protector spirit in a cell.

How dare they.

----

AN: So, um, yeah. Still sick. Not a cold or allergies at all and not easy to clear up and prob a new life long thing. Which is great. Super cool. I needed more ways to be sick.

But have the start of this thing that I used to take my mind off things! My, what could be going on?? (Also why do I apparently have a tattooed Danny agenda?)

Stay delightful (and well), darlings!

I no longer tag people for various reasons. You can instead be notified by subscribing to the masterpost!

[spacedace]

Yo here have this dp x dc snippet from ages ago I forgot I wrote until I found it just now lol:

Joker had died just after sunset, when darkness had settled fully on Gotham. Beaten horribly with a blunt, metal object of sickeningly familiar description, then finally killed in the concussive force of an explosion from the various bombs the warehouse had been filled with.

It felt obvious who it had to be.

Except, of course, that Dick was looking at cctv footage and official court documents showing just how fucking impossible it was for Jason to have finally taken the clown out for good.

At the time everything had to have happened his little brother was across the city, in a public place, with official witnesses.

Official, official witnesses. They - one Margaret Tinsel - had signed their name as such, right next to their notary stamp and the date on the marriage license.

Marriage License.

Because Jay had been over at the courthouse next to city hall getting married.

Dick only found out he’d been dating Jasmine Nightingale a couple of weeks ago. He hadn’t even properly met her yet, just saw her from the roof across the street as she and Jay sat on her fire escape sharing a pint of ice cream, laughing and looking stupidly adorable and smitten with each other. And now they’re married.

How in the fuck was he going to explain this? Bruce was already spiraling on the idea that Jay had killed Joker, he’d want specific details on just how tight of an alibi Jason had for the crime. He’d want to see that proof himself.

And then he’d want to talk to Jay. Who hadn’t told any of them what the fuck was going on in his personal life. Who had very purposefully tried to keep Jasmine Nightingale - shit, no she applied for a name change, they both had, they were both Nightingale-Todd now - away from the family and their meddling.

Babs on the other end of the line seemed to share his utter loss over the situation.

“I did some digging.” She said, drawn out enough to let him know that whatever she found - while not bad - sure as shit wasn’t going to make things any easier to explain. “They’ve uh…as best I can tell, they’ve been dating for about three years now.”

Three years.

Jesus Christ. How in the hell is he going to break that news? Did he even break that news? That’s something that Jay should do.

Except Jay just got married less than two hours ago at the same time the Joker was violently - and karmically satisfyingly - murdered and there was absolutely no way that letting Bruce go over there to talk to Jay while all Batman-ed up was going to lead to anything but a fight, which means that he has to break that news or else Jay and his new wife - his wife holy fucking shit - are going to have to deal with a pissed off Batman on their honeymoon and -

“Oh.” Tim said from where he’d come to stand at Dick’s shoulder at some point during his internal freak out. “I guess they decided to do the courthouse thing after all.”

The train wreck of Dick’s thought process, at that point, entirely exploded.

[tismrot]

THE EVERY BIG ART from IneffableCon/TIC5

Julia (X and AO3: @do_it_to_julia) was literally the first person to say hello to me when I entered the lounge in Moor Hall, she offered me tea (I know this is a normal thing for a Brit to do, but I am from the Northern Wastes and we have no manners).

I don’t always instantly click with people, and I don’t always have that much in common with perfect strangers. Not to be sappy or anything, but running into Julia before I ran into everyone else was exactly what I needed to ease into the whole convention thing. I’ve never been to one before!

Thanks to Julia, the collaborative, Big Art mosaic now exists. Everyone who wanted to participate colored one of 64 pieces. It looks amazing! I think someone in California won it in the art raffle - imagine having this on your wall!

I colored three pieces, but only remembered to take a photo of one. The text is in Norwegian and is a translation of the ‘no nightingales’ dialogue. The stars are, of course, the THREE (yes, three, google it) stars of Alpha Centauri.

[lavandulawrites]

plzz.. yandere sunday x reader 🙏🙏🙏

A Crimson Dream

Yandere Sunday x reader

Sunday is truly an interesting character. I absolutely adore his eerie vibe.

Masterlist

Warnings: Imprisoned reader, manipulative Sunday, severed limb (not reader’s nor Sunday’s)

Word count: 892

The parlour was dimly lit except for some candles and the exquisite decorated fireplace. The book in your hand had long become boring. You casted a glance across the lavish room. By a perfectly polished mahogany desk, sat Sunday. His face bore a concerted expression. His brows furrowed in a delicate frown as his long fingers gripping a violet fountain pen to the point of almost breaking. He was truly beautiful.

You watched him silently as he wrote. He was a man of elegance, his every movement fluid and planned. “My dare dove, I am so very flattered that you have taken your time to observe me for 15 minutes, but do you not think you should continue reading?” his honeyed voice snapped you out of your little trance.

You swallowed. “I suppose so.”

His yellow eyes found yours. “I think it is time for a break for the both of us” he rose from his chair and made his way over to your seat with long and elegant steps. He placed his gloved hand in front of you and smiled so very sweetly.

His grip on your hand was tight as you walked towards the dining hall. He gave you small glances, while he maintained his graceful demeanour.

A servant opened up the grand doors upon your arrival, with a deep bow.

He leaded you to your designated seating and held out your chair. “I got the chef to prepare something extra exquisite today my dear” he smiled as he took his seat. You interest picked at his statement.

“I can’t wait” you smiled. He had told you the very day that he had you taken to his mansion that you were expected to follow his rules. Which contained of you talking to him with respect.

His pale lips pulled up into a smile. The wings behind his ears fluttered.

You turned your attention to the crystal wine glass filled with blood red wine. The wine reflected your expression. Your eyes had become slightly duller since you had been taken to Sunday’s residence.

The door to the kitchen suddenly opened, which startled you greatly. Sunday chuckled at your reaction. Where it not for his eerie eyes and the unreadable expression of his, the sound would be akin to a gift bestowed upon your pitiful ears from the gods.

A silver dish with a nightingale engraved cloche where sat in front of you. A identical one where placed in front of Sunday. The chef bowed with his hand on his back “I hope it is to your tastes.”

“Oh I am sure it is. Thank you” Sunday smiled. With a wave of his hand he dismissed all the servants, as well as the chef. His gloves where no where to be seen as he lifted the lid of his dish. A delicate arranged lamb dish. “It smells lovely” Sunday hummed as he inhaled the scent.

You extended your arm in order to lift the lid. With a slightly shaky hand, you lifted the lid. Why was your hand shaking?

No.

No this can’t be.

On a blank silver plate in a bed of the greenest lettuce, laid the head of your former boyfriend. His green eyes staring blankly at yours. His brown hair where styled in a perfect sliced back hair style, giving him the appearance of a aristocrat. Which was the opposite of the man you knew. In his mouth were a white rose tainted by blood.

You screamed and pushed your chair back. Your heart hammered in your chest. You could feel bile rising up in your throat.

“What is the matter, love?” Sunday patted his mouth with a clothed napkin. “Do you not like it? I had the chef prefer it especially for you” he tilted his head with a soft smile. His voice as soft as the feathers off his wings.

“How… how could you?” your voice shaky as you furiously tried to blink away tears. The grey haired man looked at you with a intense expression.

“Do you not understand? He was once a hindrance, a disturbance of the harmony” his lips twisted into a eerie smile. “But I rid the world of the disturbance in order to create peace and harmony. For you.”

He rose from his chair and stalked his way over to your seat with determined, but fluid steps. “You are too innocent for this world, too kind. He was a distraction from my love” his golden eyes filled with nothing but obsession and insanity.

Tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, creating wet rivers. He crunched in front of you and took your hand in his. “Do not cry my dear. Everything is okay now. I will protect you and give you happiness and love” his smile never leaving his expression. A cold hand wiped away your tears so tenderly it almost made you cry more. “Should someone ever try to take you away, I will burn this planet to the ground” his tone smooth “Would it not be beautiful with the sea running red of blood from all of our fiends?” His lips gently kissed your cheek. “Just you wait my dear, we will create a new beautiful world, which will exceed all the dreams one could possibly imagine.”

“Just stay here with me and no harm should come upon you”