#delphi mail

[delphi-shield]

hiiii!!! Your recent Hugo vlad x reader was so so good….I was going absolutely insane over it,, the way it was writing okmgmgggmgn… Im sorry to ask but I was wondering if there would be a part 2… ( ´ ▽ ` )?

hey!! im so glad you liked it! i have a draft right now that might become a part 2, but it might wind up being it's own standalone fic. not too sure how it's gonna shake out yet. so it's definitely possible, but no promises!

i have more hugo ideas than i know what to do with right now, so there will be more hugo from me for sure. the challenge right now is trying to stop everything from becoming poly lycahugo/reader lmao

[phantoms-world-and-more]

DPxPJO

Danny is having a rough time at home and with summer coming up he won't have school to escape to to get a break from his parents. Pandora and Clockwork conspire to get Danny sent to Camp Halfblood. Clockwork has fliers put into the Fenton's mail about a camp that helps trouble youth by working on their strawberry farm. Because of Danny's being Phantom he has missed school and his grades have drop making Maddie and Jack think this camp sounds like a good idea to help sort Danny out. Que the Fenton GAV smashing into the sign for Delphi Strawberry Services as the Fenton's drop Danny off at camp. Nobody knows what to think of this.

.

[veronica-lawson-phd]

[Lawson got an e-mail from the school about Delphi being pulled out from class due to a family emergency. It was all by the book, someone on the list got her, but there was a "family emergency" that week that Lawson is aware of.]

@delphi-sees-all

How strange....

[Lawson pulls out her phone to call Delphi]

[bellobambino]

The Claim That Broke the Camel's Back

828 words

Summary: Frustrated CS student, Luigi Mangione, battles the maddening bureaucracy of his insurance company while juggling midterms and back pain. An underwhelming trip to Panda Express inspires him to make a change. Luigi's POV Author's Note: I could write about incompetent insurance reps all day. My whole life is working with this broken fucking system. Free Luigi.

I'm on my third cold brew of the day to get ready for this evening Machine Learning lecture. I'm wired, to say the least. I've written down a few questions I have for the professor that I'm hoping will be covered by the midterm review he's “gifting” us today. 

"Good evening, folks!" he booms, addressing the class. There’s a few murmurs from some students giving a half hearted hello. "I was debating whether or not to make a midterm review for this section of the course. Considering your test scores from February..." 

My phone vibrates with a 1800 number I know all too well. Dammit. I've been waiting a whole week for them to call me back about this billing mistake. I can’t believe they’re calling right now, but I have to settle this billing issue. I sigh, and claw my way out of the row of backpacks and purses, answering the phone as quietly as possible.

“Hello, this is Luigi.” I spit it out like I've said it a thousand times, flinging open the back door to the main hallway.

“Hi, Luigi, this is Tiffany calling from Blue Cross Blue Shield. I’m returning your call about a claim you want to appeal.”

Appeal? Appeal. Because nothing says "customer service" like making me clean up a mess they made and then gaslighting me about it.

I’m whisper-shouting now, rehashing for the millionth time how I never got the bill they insist they mailed to an address I haven’t lived at since MySpace peaked. Tiffany’s hitting me with the most insincere “mm-hmm”s—" i've ever heard.

“Why did you send the orthopedic bill to my parents’ house? I don’t live there,” I say, trying to keep the vein in my temple from exploding.

“Mr. Mangione, can you confirm your address for me, please?”

Confirm my address? I swear to God, these people couldn’t find their own ass with both hands and a Garmin. “Which address do you have on file for me? Because you’re sending this bill to Maryland, and I live in Pennsylvania.”

Tiffany pauses like she’s consulting the Oracle of Delphi. “Mr. Mangione, I’ll need you to confirm your mailing address in order to continue discussing your account.”

Breathe, Luigi. Breathe. “Fine. 212 Fairway Lane, Baltimore, Maryland, 20906.”

There’s the familiar clackity-clack of her keyboard, a sound I’ve come to associate with malicious incompetence. “Okay, Mr. Mangione, can I put you on hold?”

“Hold? You guys are killing me. I’m a full-time student; you called me in the middle of a lecture.”

“I’ll need to review your account information in order to transfer the case to the billing department.”

Hold on. “You’re not the billing department?”

There’s a pause so thick you could spread it on toast. “This is the claims department.”

I could scream. I peek through the window of the lecture hall door. The TA’s handing out the review sheet, and I’m out here playing phone tag with someone who doesn’t even have the power to solve this issue. “Alright, Tiffany, can you just give me the billing department’s direct line? So I can call when i'm not in class.”

She rattles off a number. I punch it into my phone notes like I’m defusing a bomb. I thank her—halfheartedly, because I was raised right- and hang up.

I'm back in my seat, having missed the professor going over test expectations. I unlock my phone and look at the number Tiffany gave me. Wait. I look at my recent call log.

No way. It’s the exact same number I’ve been calling for weeks. The member services line. An automated phone directory service that will "connect you to the best department", but only sends you in circles for hours just to disconnect you when you’re waiting to speak with a supervisor.

They’ve already threatened to send the bill to collections—a bill I’ve never even seen. They told me the procedure was 100% covered. Now I’m supposed to fork over cash I don’t have for something they said I didn’t owe in the first place.

Back at my dorm, I'm eating Panda Express alone like a fucking schmuck. The noodles taste like cardboard. I’d kill for my Ma's chicken parm. I gotta call her.

I finish up, and grab the take out bag to throw away the container. 

Oh, thats right. There’s the fortune cookie. I almost chuck it in the trash, but ... maybe Lu deserves a little treat today.

I crack open the cookie, shoving one half in my mouth, and unfurl the little piece of paper.

Be the change you want to see in the world.

I immediately roll my eyes. The change I want to see is insurance companies prioritizing patients' well being over shareholder profit. If I could do anything about that, I would. Trust me, I would.

I tape the fortune to the inside of my laptop, right next to the sticker of Breloom my sister gave me, and fling myself onto my bed. 

Be the change. Maybe I could.

[bygone-visionary]

Hello, Hello!

As stated above, my name is Alzis Myers. This account is to act as a sort of personal journal... Although I've been told I need to socialize more often.

My primary interests include old literature and ancient manmade Pokemon, if you are seeking to strike up a conversation, I promise, truly, that I don't bite. (:

There's a high population of trainers on this website, based on my own observations, so I will state this again: I am not a Pokemon Trainer. I only have two Pokemon of my own; Delphi, my Absol, and Atlas, my Sigilyph.

Other social media websites have always been a pain to use. They feel Hostile, very hostile. So I have distanced myself from them recently.

That being said, feel more than free to ask me any questions regarding my areas of expertise. I deeply, deeply enjoy educating people on these matters.

Heyo! @act11as here yet again! ooc posts are tagged as #ooc and #moth's yapping, and are colored green. and, you mayyy recognize this guy if you've been following my things for a while.

This is a hard reboot of extrasensory-absols, because I fumbled the bag hard with him. NOTHING from that blog should be considered canon!

This blog is less heavy, but expect discussions of things like Murder, Death, as well as Poor mental health and unhealthy habits relating to these.

Boundaries

Self-insert Fallers, do not interact. There is a certain level of unreality I can handle and self-insert fallers cross that threshold. I will block over this, be warned. Everyone else is fine to interact!

NSFW COMMENTS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. Mod is a minor, even if muse is an adult!

IN CHARACTER anon hate is okay! I have the right to not answer anything, and if you're ever unsure, feel free to ask.

Extra:

Pelipper Mail, un-mail, and Malice are on currently!

Mystery Gifts are on!

Musharna mail, and Musharna malice are always on!

Magic anons are off.

Organizational tags:

#Myer's Musings - General post tag

#[nickname] the [pokemon] - Most posts about Alzis' pokemon should be tagged like this.

#Foresight - Out of character tag. It marks posts that will potentially be important in the future. This can range from his opinions on things to heavy lore posts! Good tag to read through if you think you're missing something! (Applies Dec. 6 2024 and onwards)

Acquaintance/Friend Tags:

#The Stowaway - Tag for "The Child" that Alzis found hiding in his attic. They're currently staying as a guest. (Applies Dec. 6 2024 and onwards)

Anddd.... A playlist for Alzis! Currently only on Spotify, working on a Youtube Version.

[mike-wachowski]

oracle of delphi mentioned. heres a sneak peak of my lottienat oracle x misthia fic

It’s a chilly golden autumn morning when Lottie first touches Natalie’s skin. She’s standing out in the courtyard of the temple, under the branches of the old olive trees, the wind rustling around her with whispers. She has a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, but she isn’t cold. Her body shakes though, with an unknown anticipation— excitement for a union she has no idea is about to come. 

She smells tobacco on the air. The first signal of their arrival. A scent like a memory, delivered to her on a silver plate to consume with vigor. She blinks and she’s somewhere else— a forest, it’s cold, colder than Lottie has ever felt even in the worst Grecian winter— but there’s a fire roaring, and someone sitting next to her, and there’s that smell again, tobacco and sweat and hunger— but it’s just a blink, and so in a moment Lottie is back under the olive tree, her shawl tangling around itself as she watches the leaves sway. 

“Lottie?” There’s a voice calling out for her, familiar, though every voice is a little bit familiar these days. There’s hardly a face she hasn’t seen in a dream or a voice she hasn’t heard on the wind.  But she knows this one— she’s heard it before, in this life and the next. It’s tenor is as strong as mountain soil. 

Standing by the edge of the temple, beyond Lottie’s garden, Taissa arrives, as always, clad in leather, a sword on her belt. She arrives with the howl of a wolf and a burst of heat. She arrives with an uneasy hesitation— a distrust she has never, and will never, unlearn— and today, she arrives with a misthia whose footsteps Lottie has known since the moment of her first breath. 

“Lottie?” Taissa calls out, again, like she’s apprehensive to come closer.  Lottie isn’t reticent to receive her; she presses a palm to the olivewood and mumbles a quick blessing before turning to face the soldier and her company. 

“Van said you were unoccupied,” Taissa starts, like it’s an apology, like her presence is unwanted. Her footsteps fall just short of the small clearing Lottie rests in, like it’s a sacred circle that she refuses to enter. “This is the misthia I told you about—” 

“Natalie,” Lottie smiles. “I recall.” 

Natalie is bound in leather straps and iron armor. Scale mail that accentuates the cording of her arms, white linens that flow around her knees in the brisk breeze, a leather cord across her brow that pushes her choppy dark hair away from her eyes— she is everything Lottie has seen in her dreams a thousand times over. 

And she is here. 

Natalie is behind Tai, but Lottie yearns to reach for her, to touch her hand, her cheek, to press her lips upon her lips, to strip her of her armor and lay her bare for all the Gods to bear witness to. Lottie almost lurches forward, overwhelmed with the breadth of her want, and as her foot catches in the dirt she watches as Natalie reaches forward as if to catch her, and then recoils. 

Lottie does not fall. She regains her footing, stumbling heavily towards the invisible barrier that divides her visitors from her. 

“Natalie,” Taissa says, ignorable to Lotties insatiable desire, to the meaning of this moment. She has no idea everything in history has led to this, that the Gods willed it from Olympus. “Of all the oracles I’ve met, Lottie is the most powerful. She’ll take care of you.” 

Natalie looks to Lottie, looks at her with those fate-struck, storm cloud eyes, painted by Zues’ deft hand. 

“I will,” Lottie’s dry mouth forms the words upon its own volition. “Let me take care of you, Natalie.” 

They're sitting together in the tholos, the wall of stone circling them on all sides. Natalie looks claustrophobic in their shared privacy. Lottie revels in it. 

“You’re good.” Natalie finally says, the first words she’s ever addressed Lottie with. “You’re really good.” 

Lottie looks at her. “I haven’t done anything yet.” 

“You know my name.” Natalie scowls. Her voice is so rich, so effortlessly deep, and it rattles in Lottie’s chest like a brass sistrum.  “I told Tai not to tell you my name.” 

Lottie inhales. She had been so caught up in the euphoria of seeing Natalie in the flesh that she had forgotten to act as if she never knew her. “Is it only possible that divination told it to me?” Lottie hums, amused. She isn’t sure why she’s playing coy. Maybe she doesn’t want to scare Natalie off. “Perhaps one of my priestess knew of you.” 

Natalie shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s it.” 

“Why?” 

“When I saw you, I felt—” Natalie huffs. There’s trouble etched on her face. There always is, in Lottie’s dreams and visions. Natalie is the type of girl who trouble loves. “In my chest, there was—” 

“You don’t have to explain.” Lottie finally grants the girl some relief. “It is no secret that I am touched by the gods. For many people, they are able to sense that strangeness about me. I’ve come to expect a certain level of hesitation when others approach.” 

Natalie shakes her head. Her eyes are downcast, studying the stones beneath their feet. “Taissa was right about your massive ego.” 

It’s unexpected, and so, so Natalie, that Lottie let out a rough burst of laughter. It’s a strange sound. She doesn’t make it often. 

That gets Natalie to finally look up, to finally meet Lottie’s eyes. 

“Tell me what troubles you, Natalie.” 

“I have been asked by the Atticans to perform a sacred hunt.” Natalie begins. “A young girl, a worshipper of Artemis, was mauled by a bear that entered within the bounds of the city. They think the bear is an ill omen. A sign that they have fallen out of favor with Artemis. They hired me to pursue the bear so they can sacrifice it.” 

“What do you think?” 

Natalie side-eyes her. “Of what?” 

“The hunt, the bear,” Lottie folds her hands in her lap, “It’s a great honor, to perform a sacred hunt. But you seem…” Hesitant is the first word that comes to Lottie’s mind, but it’s the wrong one. “Doubtful.” 

Natalie tenses. She’s read her correctly. “It just doesn’t make sense to me, Lottie.” Her fists clench. “I heard the rumors. Spoke to the Atticans that were there when it happened. It was no random occurrence. They were keeping the bear, holding it hostage. They toyed with it like some— some house dog. Is it to blame for lashing out? Why should I punish it for doing what was in its nature?” 

A distant smile crosses Lotties face. “How do you know Artemis did not will it so? Do you think the goddess of the hunt so shortsighted she could not foresee this one as well?” 

Natalie snorts. “These days I doubt the gods see much at all.” She suddenly freezes, looking over at Lottie like a child caught thieving. “Sorry if that's like, sacreligious, or something.” 

Lottie laughs again. She wants to reach for Natalie’s hand, but she knows the woman will just flinch away. “It’s alright. It’s not a terrible thought to have, when the workings of men are more often visible than the workings of the gods.” 

“Not with you, though.” Natalie looks at her through hooded eyes. “You’re… different, Lottie.” 

“Now who’s stroking my ego.” 

Natalie chortles as that, and the sound of it, the familiarity of it, grabs Lottie by the shoulders and pushes her down— 

(—and Lottie is spiraling into a dark tunnel, a dark abyss, and reemerging in a snow-covered forest where she’s surrounded by women. There's a fire roaring. There’s water running nearby. There’s leaves crunching, somewhere, off in the distance; and there’s Natalie’s laugh, low and honest, and suddenly Lottie feels like she’s underwater, floaty and freezing cold.

A hand brushes her palm. A hand covered in blood, a hand caked in dirt, a hand trembling and soft as its fingers reach for hers.) 

“Lottie?” A voice is calling out to her. “Lottie, you with me?” 

Lottie blinks, and she’s back in the tholos. She’s fallen to her knees, and her fingernails are broken and dusty, the skin scraped raw. She’s been digging at the stone floor. Digging. 

The voice says, “It’s okay, Lottie,” and it grounds her, pulls her back to the present, away from the smell of blood and bonfire and back to salt and sweet rosemary. She’s here. She’s in the tholos. She’s with Natalie. “It’s okay.” 

Natalie is on her knees before her, eyes staring down Lottie, like she’s waiting for her to jump, or bite, or run. She looks scared. 

Lottie wants to kiss her. 

She doesn’t. She pushes herself up with shaky legs, Natalie’s hand hovering by her elbow to catch her if she falls. 

“Apollo is on the wind today,” she mutters to herself. Then— louder, more confident, to Natalie— “Follow me to the temple. I’m going to bless your hunt.” 

Natalie, kneeling beneath the altar of Apollo. Natalie, head bowed in concentration. Natalie, with the curious eyes of a hunter, following Lottie as she moves gracefully about the temple, preparing her prayer. 

In all her dreams, there has always been something about Natalie that seemed impossible to Lottie; like the feeling one gets before a thunderclap or strike of lightning, like the uncontrollable wrath of something quite divine and uncaring. Natalie buzzes with power— with rage. It’s enough to make Lottie take her time as she gathers her cups, her wine, her dagger. She’s worried once she approaches Natalie, the storm that surrounds her will strike out and smite Lottie to dust. 

“You’ve always had this… power about you,” Lottie says, if only to put her thoughts to words so they can reside anywhere but her chest, the inside of her mouth, and she can keep doing her fucking job. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Nat snaps, only a little bit cruel. She’s mostly just cautious, of course— she hasn’t seen what Lottie has seen, doesn't know what Lottie knows.

Lottie stalks a little bit closer. The loose folds of her dress swirl about her ankles. 

“It means you’re special, Natalie.” 

And Natalie looks away. “Tai was right. You’re fucking strange.” 

Lottie shrugs, lets the words bounce off her chest. She diverts, in the hopes to get Natalie to open up to her a little. “How do you two know each other?”

“You don’t know?” It’s Lottie’s turn to shrug. “We fought together. Persians, then the Spartans.” Nat works at a scar near her temple, like the discomfort is still there long after the wound’s healing. “Now Tai commands an Athenian phalanx and I am…here.”

“Here is not a bad place to be,” Lottie says, finally depositing all of her instruments behind  Natalie upon the altar. “The people of Attica are grateful you are here.” 

“What about you?” Natalie snarks. ”Are you grateful I am here? Got nothing better to do than grant a washed-up mercenary paltry blessings?” 

Lottie dips her fingertips in the ash of the brazier beside the altar, then takes Nat’s chin gently in her other hand. 

“I have waited my entire life for this moment,” Lottie says. “There is no other place I would wish you be.” 

Natalie’s plump red lips part— her eyes grow glassy, like the seawater on a still summer day. Lottie brings her thumb up so it rests, trembling, on the outline of the luxurious skin, bending pliant beneath the soft tug of Lottie’s finger. 

Natalie looks so good for her like this. On her knees, obedient. Reverent. 

Lottie takes her other hand, the one dappled with ash, and brushes away the soft strands of Nat’s fringe to allow access to the skin of her brow. She traces a symbol into the skin there, the one she’s seen in her dreams a thousand times over. 

(O, shining Apollo, watch over Natalie and embrace her in your warmth, keep her in your sight; golden-haired father, I am your servant always in your light and worship but Natalie is my love, my beating heart; show her way as only you can, guide her hand to fruition, bring her back safe to me—)

On the final stroke, Lottie’s hand recoils— Natalie’s skin has grown searing hot, and it burns at her fingertips as she finishes the seal on the sigil she’s carved with ash. She hisses as she pulls her hand back, examining her fingertips carefully. 

“You okay?” Nat asks, looking altogether like a tantalising sacrifice sporting Lottie’s mark on her forehead. 

“Did you feel that?” Lottie whispers. “That— that heat?” 

Nat flushes pink. Her pupils dance in the flickering firelight that surrounds them. “Yeah, maybe,” she huffs. 

“That’s not what I—” Lottie scowls. “—regardless. You can stand, now.” When Natalie doesn’t move, looks at her skeptically, Lottie tacks on a: “Please.”

Nat grunts, pushing herself to her feet, the plates and rivulets of her armor jingling like strings of glass beads in the wind. It's a sound that soothes Lottie subconsciously, a sound she is paradoxically both unfamiliar with and yet fond of. 

While Nat gets her bearings, Lottie circles around the altar, plucking her things as she goes— a copper cup that Mari prepared for this ritual, embalmed with flaky gold, a carafe of dry wine that she mixes with water from a local lake, that Van always claims nymphs can be found whispering in. She drops in a couple of sun-blanched herbs from her garden, then picks up her knife and goes to stand beside Natalie. 

“The blessing and the sigil will only serve to invite the gods' protection over you. Think of it as a signal fire at night— I have marked you in such a way that the gods upon Olympus high cannot ignore.” Not that they were ignorant to you before. “If you truly wish to succeed in this hunt, I will invite Apollo’s sight to flow within you, so that you may anticipate your prey’s every move.” 

“It’s a little much for a bear hunt, Lottie.” 

Lottie smiles, placating. “A sacrifice to Artemis should only be fetched by one so blessed as she. The maiden would have it no other way.”

“Oh,” Natalie breathes out, looking up at Lottie with those full-moon eyes. “Well, bless away, then.” 

Lottie answers by sliding the blade of her dagger across her palm. 

Immediately, the images flood to the front of her mind; Natalie in the forest, running for her life— Lottie, at the altar, begging for it— Lottie’s hand in Natalie’s, bloodied and bruised.

She sees Natalie’s hand twitch— instinctual, the need to curb violence, to control it— but then Lottie lets out a groan that comes from some deep, curling snake in her gut, and Natalie freezes.

“Lot—” She whispers, but Lottie holds up a hand to silence her. 

“I’m fine.” Lottie lets the knife fall to the floor. She takes her slashed palm and works it with her fingers, bringing all her blood to the surface, cupping it so it will not spill or waste a drop. She grabs the copper cup from her dias and turns her palm over, letting the blood pour out in a sloppy stream into the water and wine. 

Lottie gives it a gentle stir. Watches the way the rivulets of red dissolve into an even pink that reminds her of a violent sunset. 

“Drink this,” Lottie says, offering the cup to Natalie, “and let the blood of the Oracle grant you clear sight on your hunt.” 

Natalie looks at the proffered elixir. A storm of thoughts races through her mind; none that Lottie understands. Maybe, after everything, this is the step too far— this is where Natalie draws the line and leaves Lottie in the shadow of her god, begging for something she can never have. In another life, it would be true; in her dreams, it always ends before the good part. 

But in the temple, on this day, Natalie takes the cup from Lottie’s trembling hand, and she brings it to her lips, and she drinks, and she drinks, and she drinks. 

[anony-man]

Some Delphi doctor Pharma thoughts because, well… why not? More specifically, a thought-out explanation for successfully hiding the very, very illegal business of organ harvesting (or cog harvesting, if you’re Pharma). Very, very long, and mainly Pharma-centric. Also TW for mild mentions of gore below (near the end):

It would have been a very, very good question to ask how in the world he’d managed to get into the practice of harvesting cogs for the enemy, but that isn’t exactly the focus here. What it came down to, for the most part, was being stationed at Delphi of all areas. It was a rough place to work, and it had quite the reputation of being the worst of the worst when it came to practitioners AND survival rates. The extra factors were probably due to the fact that an ex-Decepticon and a war frame were both in high ranks of the medical staff (not to mention the awful habit Cybertron’s governors had of actually making sure funds went to keeping heat and lights on in the building), but none of this phased Pharma. When the offer—well, not so much offer as it was threat to end his life and career if he didn’t accept—came up, he wasn’t exactly in a place to decline.

It was easy work, really. All he had to do was stay after hours and harvest cogs from dead patients before they left to be cremated, or buried, or recycled, or… well, whatever their loved ones chose to do. He was practically running the hospital at that point, and no one had ever questioned his authority. Besides, no medical staff outside of himself and Ambulon had ever worked at Delphi for more than a few months tops. Delphi’s hospital was severely understaffed with one or two medical drones patrolling the area outside of himself and Ambulon, but that’s the way Pharma would have had it. After all, it’s what made his awful situation possible.

Besides… If push came to shove, and by some miracle someone found out about his forced ties with the DJD, he could always blame Ambulon. It would be easy enough to frame him, after all. No one would believe him, anyway. Not with his past as an ex ‘Con. Pharma wasn’t much better, being built a war frame despite his work in the medical field, but what choice did he have?

Things were going well, at first. Pharma was averaging at about three to four cogs a month, give or take a few. Despite what outsiders said, Delphi was typically the place where those too far gone came to live their last moments in the peace and comfort medical support was able to offer, so the supply was always steady. That is, it was steady, until Pharma got a rather threatening letter in the mail. The DJD had begun to demand four times what he was averaging, and that number was expected every two weeks.

The first time he took a life with his own hands, Pharma had felt physically ill. He spent the rest of the day locked up in his office, ignoring Ambulon’s pestering concerns with the complaint that he was feeling unwell, which was true, but that he didn’t require support, which was… well, sort of true. He’d barely managed to make it through a ration of energon that evening, and he’d spent most of the night forcing down bottle after bottle of cheap alcoholic drinks. The overwhelming guilt didn’t last long, however, since Pharma knew he couldn’t physically keep it up. He’d have to tough it out, take in a few extra cogs from living patients, and maybe—just maybe—his circumstances would change.

As expected, things most certainly did not change. At least, not for the better. Enter First Aid, who soon became a sort of Achilles heel to Pharma’s process. The new doctor was young and inexperienced, practically fresh out of the academy from what Pharma had heard. For the first few weeks, Pharma was absolutely relentless in his blatant dislike of First Aid, and he took every chance he could get to publicly disapprove or humiliate the young doctor when he could. It felt awful, it really did. But given the very dangerous situation he found himself in, he couldn’t risk having more than one other doctor around the hospital floors.

First Aid wasn’t supposed to have lasted as long as he did. One week became two, which became four, which turned into one month, but still, Pharma relented. He chastised the young medic every chance he could get and occasionally gave crude, condescending remarks about question just how long First Aid would last before he, too, dropped out of the Delphi work force. Would he even remain a doctor, Pharma wondered? Would the stress from his experience at Delphi turn him away from any and all future medical endeavors? He’d hoped it might end that way—not for his sake, but for First Aid’s safety. Still, his nagging coworker who still struggled to turn over a new leaf was also relentless, but in the aspect of helping the new recruit. Before Pharma knew it, Ambulon was taking First Aid under his wing, showing him the ropes. It was infuriating, and it posed a very, very great threat to Pharma’s new business.

Primus, he grew so nervous during that time, so very, very nervous. He shouldn’t have been doing it at all. Everything, all of it—the manipulation, the twisted work, the criticism to both First Aid’s character and his career, it was all so fucked up in the worst way. It was unethical. It was awful, it… it was—ohh fuck. Fuck, what choice did he have? He didn’t have one. He had no choice at all, and this was how things would end. A well-known, well respected medic who’d risen above the hierarchy and racism, only to destroy it all after doing such dirty work for the DJD.

Despite his petty and discreet efforts, First Aid relented. It was nearing six months into the young medic’s employment at Delphi when Pharma realized he needed to do something different, and fast. He had already experienced one too many close calls, what with the nosy little doctor running into him after hours on the wrong floor at the wrong time. Sexual innuendos and workplace relationships had only gotten him so far with Ambulon, and after an awkward interface session in the washracks while bodies lay decomposing in locked bathroom stalls mere feet away, Pharma simply couldn’t take it anymore. Drastic measures had to be taken, unfortunately, and despite the medical oaths he’d sworn to observe and the many, many moral boundaries he’d never wanted to cross, Pharma was no longer against twisting the tables in his own favor.

He started out innocently enough. Aid was a smart one, of course, and Pharma caught the skeptical looks the young medic gave him every time he dared to bring up Delphi’s sketchy past. Despite the visor covering his optics and the mask he wore nearly all the time, it wasn’t hard to gauge First Aid’s reaction, and given a few weeks, Pharma knew it was starting to take a toll on the new medic. It was only when Ambulon had begun to scold him behind closed doors for “scaring” First Aid that Pharma realized he needed to push things up a notch.

He wasn’t a terrible person. Truly, he wasn’t. He never meant for any of it to happen, and he had never intended for First Aid to be affected so deeply or for his own reputation to be tarnished. He’d known his fate was sealed the moment he was given over to the DJD as their own personal provider of anything organ-related, but that didn’t make him a bad person, right? He was only doing his job. He was doing what he had been forced to do. He was still a doctor, a good person. Right? He was still him. He still saved lives, he still helped others, he still held the role and responsibility of being a strong, confident medic. He was a good person, right? Right?

He hadn’t been thinking all that clearly when it had happened. Still, the pieces just so happened to fall into place, and Pharma knew that his secret was sealed for at least a few months. He had been in the process of dragging the most recent body into a storage closet for safe keeping while he dealt with other more impending issues when it had occurred. Of course, shoving a dead corpse into an old closet wasn’t the best course of action, but with his mind starting to crack under the pressure and his options starting to slim, Pharma knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

He could hear the sound of quiet pedesteps entering into the washracks. It was First Aid, he knew, stopping to get cleaned up after a long shift. He always came into the washracks at this time, after every shift. Primus, he did it almost daily. How could Pharma have forgotten? How could he have forgotten?

Never mind that, he supposed. Pharma had waited until First Aid was rifling through his belongings and getting everything unneeded placed into a locker (really, with there only being three bots capable of making it to the washracks, what was the need for the locker?) before making a run for the shower stalls. He had thrown the body over one shoulder as he headed there, and as expected, it made quite the sound. Instead of hearing a bout of silence to follow the sudden interruption of First Aid’s prep-work, he was instead met with a small, startled gasp from the young medic. He paused in the middle of pulling the curtain shut and waited, just in case his cover was to be blown. He would hate to do it, but if he needed to take out one of his fellow medics—

“Is someone out there?” First Aid had called out, the anxiety practically dripping from his voice.

If Pharma hadn’t been so busy with not getting caught carrying a corpse around, he would’ve felt a little bad for the poor doctor’s frazzled nerves. Still, a job had to be done, and a job was what he was going to do. Pharma laid the corpse down onto the shower stall and, after quietly drawing the curtains back to hide it, made his way towards the exit. He managed to escape without running into First Aid, which would end up being a blessed accident for him in the next ten minutes.

Pharma was nearly halfway to his office when he heard it. A guttural, blood-curdling scream that sent a chill racing down his spine. He knew what had happened, of course, but the sound—Primus, the sound, the palpable horror and fear in the air as First Aid screamed—it would stick with him for a very, very long time. It didn’t take long before Ambulon was rushing down the hallway, a mixed look of confusion and concern plastered across his face as though First Aid—a disposable, inexperienced waste of space on their hospital’s floor—could have actually meant anything to him.

Pharma turned around quickly enough to see First Aid bursting out of the washracks, his entire frame rattling with choked sobs that even Pharma could see the plating shift and grind from such a long distance. He couldn’t quite make out the words—not that the poor medic was saying anything legible, but still—from where he stood, but from the way First Aid all but collapsed against Ambulon’s front, wailing about a “dead body” and the poor soul he’d just checked on so and so minutes ago and the guilt he felt, oh the guilt. What could have he done differently? Was it his fault? Was he to blame? God, why couldn’t he stop crying? He couldn’t breathe, Ambulon, he couldn’t breathe—

It ended up being too much to bear, too much to witness. Pharma slipped past with a distant pat to Ambulon’s shoulder and muttered something about giving First Aid a little something to take the edge off before he headed in to “take a look.” Of course, Pharma took the chance to properly dispose of the body so that nothing else could be said about the standalone incident, and when Ambulon had come in sometime later and informed him that First Aid was in the medibay sleeping off some heavy sedatives, Pharma was more than willing to show him the now-empty and pristine shower stalls. Every one of them, too, not just the one that had just so happened to inhabit the… the victim.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise when, a week later, there was a new medic among their ranks. First Aid had hardly even gone to the third floor—the floor where the incident had occured—at all during the week, and he had barely managed to keep himself moving throughout the normal shift changes. At first, Pharma expected him to drop out of the hospital staff like all of the other medics before him, but no. Instead, he was treated to a new recruit.

Ratchet was his name, Pharma recalls. Ratchet, Ambulon’s acquaintance, First Aid’s temporary mentor, and Pharma’s mortal enemy. Well, mortal enemy and secret obsession. If there was one thing Pharma had become good at during his many months spent harvesting the cogs of helpless victims, it was casting illusions. Though he had taken a deep, almost toxic, interest in Ratchet, Pharma knew he was more than capable of keeping up the charades.

[nuclearjacks]

12 for the fandom ask game !!

What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

Apologies for taking a bit to get around to this- had a very busy weekend and needed a day or two to recoup jdjdjddj

But Ouughghghgh you’re making me think here cause I’ve got so many in my head that have never seen the light of day djhfdjdjdj

It’ll all be under the cut cause I *will* be unapologetically neurodiverse about this vvv

A bit suggestive but nothing explicit - and not one of mine but is far more entertaining than anything I’ve come up with since I’m an angst whore™️ jdhdhdhr was probably a silly strip club au that an old mutual of mine back in 2020 brainstormed. If I remember correctly it was something like the autobots and deceptions ran competing strip clubs and of course the deceptions wore bedazzled and glittery speedos and booty shorts and were slay as fuck sjdhdhdh

There wasn’t much to it other than that, the deceptions slayed and that’s what I cared about most iedniencein

Otherwise-

My craziest (crazy in the sense that, this-is-the-thing-I’ve-thought-most-about-and-put-the-most-effort-in-because-holy-shit-everything-fits-so-perfectly-and-you-can-tell-this-is-peak-fandom-crossover-indulgence djnfjeehbd) is my TarnMaRat Phantom of the Opera inspired AU. Spoilers ahead for mtmte and Lost light just in case too.

I’m not the first person to see the parallels between the Phantom and Tarn absolutely not (there’s actually a gorgeous Tarn print I’ve found on eBay of him as Phantom that I will put the link to here), but I *might* be the first (still highly unlikely with how old this fan base is sjchdjdj) to see the parallels between Christine and Pharma and Raoul and Ratchet (and many other characters who I’ve found a way to weave them into for the sake of this AU jdjxjd)

For example, Christine is stuck in a ‘no-good-way-out’ situation due to the manipulation of a man who threatens those she loves if his terms aren’t obeyed. Very easy to see the parallels between Pharma’s situation on Delphi and how he had to steal t-cogs in order to keep him and his staff safe from the DJD. But even Christine’s deteriorating mental state throughout the musical is very similar to Pharma’s through out the Delphi arc. She’s a fairly isolated individual whose mainly only known the Opera for most of her life, she’s been trained to be the next big star by the Phantom and is pretty suddenly thrust into said position to the point she becomes very overwhelmed when things begin to get more and more complicated and terrifying with her understanding of her ‘angel of music’ and the world in turn. Just like how Pharma suddenly found the DJD on his doorstep one day and was suddenly a t-cog supplier to one of the most deadly decepticons and had to start managing how to keep supplies coming in, keep his staff safe AND possibly find a way out of said situation that might get him and the others out as safely as possible. Which causes him to isolate the Delphi station from everyone until First Aid calls for Ratchet. Also very similar to Christine, they both latched onto people from their past who they felt safe with, possibly thinking they could protect them or help them.

That’s only a taste of the analysis I’ve done of these characters cause I didn’t even get onto Ratchet and Raouls ego complex’s or Tarn’s obsessive behaviours over Megatron, that, for the sake of the AU, I switched up to an obsession over Pharma to better suit the parrells between Phantoms obsession with Christine eunceicheuhc

Instead of this au being a ‘I just put these characters in the other characters place so yay! The robots do opera now lol’, I instead took the same storyline and applied it to the Delphi arc and mish mashed things in from the Lost Light comics too. Honestly this would probably make a really good psychological thriller fic the more I think about it iendiencein

Some of this is still pretty wibbly-wobbly but the basic gist is that Pharma is still running the Delphi site but for a much longer indeterminate amount of time so he’s kinda known as the Doctor who runs Delphi. He was thrust into the position straight after graduating med school (cybertronians still have to go to med school for this shit right??? DJXJDJDJ) to match the overwhelming nature of Christine’s position as Diva. Delphi is also a much larger hospital in this AU with a reputation for 50% of its patients going missing/dying/etc, causing it to be severely underfunded, but somehow still able to run and operate. Which later when Ratchet pops around (since I’d like to think this whole AU would be from Ratchet’s perspective, again, very similarly to the Delphi arc in the comics, to increase the level of horror and mystique around Delphi) learns it’s due to the DJD’s involvement who have been uncharacteristically generous to the hospital. Which later Ratchet learns is because Pharma treated a mech by the name of Damus back in the day when the hospital’s mortality rate was much lower. A mech who mysteriously keeps appearing in hospital records for coming in for treatment of seemingly superficial injuries, notes specifying that he’d always request for Pharma, until these appearances just stop one day out of the blue. And the mortality suddenly spikes a few months later.

The rest of the AU is basically ratchet figuring out the mysterys of Delphi while also trying to find a way to get Pharma and co out of this situation as more and more important characters (sorry, Ambulon doesn’t make it in this universe either jcjdjdjd) are killed off by Tarn. With background Pharat and a one-sided Tarnma.

I’d love to do more with this AU in the future whenever my next bout of creativity is, I have so many feelings about them all🥺🥺🥺💞💞💞

[randomlycoolwallpapers]

Aloha! May I request a moodboard for Rachel Elizabeth Dare?

Here she is! Sorry in advance if she's a little too much like Ginny.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare Moodboard

My first request ever for our favourite oracle of delphi. Or maybe second favourite if you prefer the hippie skeleton.

This is for @just-a-cup-of-anxietea

Mailing list: @too-many-fandoms-not-enough-time

[delphi-shield]

I was just thinking to myself Leon or Jill teaching their kid self defence 🥲

so real tbh

i put this under a cut bc i got carried away thinking about this, so sorry

i think jill is very intentional about it. sits them down beforehand and explains the ins and outs, what situation you want to use whatever technique in. the fundamentals are important and she starts them out young.

she drilled paranoia into your kid's skull since they were little. she didn't mean to - it was just basic advice, little facts sprinkled in throughout the day. keep your head on a swivel. be kind, not naive. watch your surroundings. here's how you throw a punch. here's where the solar plexus is. the elbow is the hardest point on the human body. it only takes eight pounds of pressure to break someone's nose.

she's really averse to putting them in a class with kids their age. like 1.) why would she pay for that. she can do it herself and then she doesn't have to shuffle schedules around to figure out how to get her kid to class and 2.) this is not a social activity, this is not a sport, to her this is a skill. she's heard enough horror stories about misinformation and shitty instructors.

i also think jill's kind of bad at balancing normal family activities. she's a homebody and she knows her kid needs to be around other kids and to be socialized, but it's tough. i think as a young adult jill struggled to form connections and feel like she really belonged anywhere, so she filled the pit in her stomach with skills and accomplishments and even though that's changed and gotten easier as she aged, she struggles now to fulfill that need for her kid.

leon i think wants to keep the illusion of Normal a little more. he puts a ton of pressure on himself in a family setting, really lives two lives and tries so hard to keep them separate. jill chose this life, but leon was dragged into it and he keeps work and home as separate as possible. like there's leon :) and then there's Special Agent Kennedy and those two guys do not mingle. when he gets home from work, he does the family annihilator special and sits in the car, dead eyed, hands on the wheel, reforming himself into who he wants to be by the time he steps in the house.

i think he focuses a lot more on defensive skills, on ways to disengage and de-escalate. he incorporates it into play time shockingly well, gathers his kids wrists gently in his hand, watches them giggle and try to get free before he shows them the proper way to do it. ("try it on me. watch," he says, lets his kids tiny hands wrap around his wrist. he breaks free where their hands don't quite clasp. they giggle, try to cage his arm in their grip again. "see? you try now.")

it's kind of at odds with the way he also instills his own sense of justice into them. he tells them to stand up for people who cant do it themselves and for yourself and expects his kid not to get into fights. leon has a blind spot the size and shape of his child. his initial reaction to hearing his kid put someone into the dirt at school is "nice. sorry - i meant, 'oh, no'." followed by "did they deserve it?" leon would never admit it, but he's got big "my kids would NEVER" energy (his kid absolutely would and it'll be a big strain when his kid does fuck up but i digress).

when they get older and he actually tries to teach them the basics instead of disguising it as play, it causes some friction. it runs a little too close to his line of work for him to keep himself entirely separate. he's sharper, more firm. no more fun dad. probably his kids first real reckoning with the dissonance of their father tbh.

[vividlyfuturistichurricane]

me d atten v Bowen librarians cairns Wilson security qld police ambulance fire justice corrections education transport government lockup the derby ascot caufield cup rugby Erin ioc aoc Athens Roma Romani kuranda Silvia Donny McKenzie sy Paul’s Chris Walsall port vale hull Loughborough Warrington starling mason Helen’s dragon chevron island jaspers Jesper’s that hilto abba slough trigg beach army steeple chasers Everton Ipswich bargain hunt black white brown yellow red green Doncaster aus post dhl immigration horse heroin smack chasing the dragon junkies know ital all idiots retards diabetics disabled people n cairn mental health rubble Burnley Blackburn lancs Yorks Chester Alderney edge Salvation Army Charles iii beckham Buckingham Rooney derby scouse geordie fifa fa uefa communal Gaza linear foster Fraser Len Glenn ky Nazarene Josephine miyuki kiyomi Colin hill America bra jam cub fem Roland rat Alan swift russel Ailey pervs Stella Rhianna Jen Dave si rob fran Caroline jonathon Ian wigget Parkinson grain bodkin fair man fair clingy Williams ballestro bollaro goel sleeman oak Leslie bread on were magnum ymca bath Sheffield Hubert Harrison ashraf kashif Ind pak ban omari quin Gerry Jerry Berlin Bonn Brussels Charleroi Paris Madrid Monaco and licht lux Flavia Guildford Custer Fabio rohit londres prc dc Washington photomedia west Australian newspapers the Australian cutting Murdoch Blythe Lucy liu Wesley Hensley Harris Arrington Matt Matthew Natasha Ashleigh Hannah goons coon negros blacks shote whitehead across airmen’s bae yeomans Holland ed moffat ball hall Helen Adele osbourne park Aberdeen Inverness Glasgow Thames rowan seeding Atkinson Asda Sainsbury’s Tesco nhs Pennines health dhss universal credit visas dole unemployment benefit Royal Mail Atari commodore Parker weary Middlesbrough Craig Gemma Daniel Danny Brandt Marie Anne Elizabeth Czechia Prague heath ledger pica wapa waca Shane warne afl epl premier league city united airports passports religions warmongers nuclear rubbish Ken Clinton Clifford Bakewell jd new order the light Bickel West Bromwich midland south west iow I’m Norwich afp ato tax tac a v and Jan flash max farthing Stephen Kev Barrett n chadd St Paul’s glodwick saddleworth Delphi digger denshaw Mosley Hyde staylybridge Carlisle barrow Blackpool Fleetwood morecome great ocean road greyhound Tour de France ric aunt once ant wil Anderson Duncan the academy the Apollo buzzcocks sex pistols dk Dixon dr who actors

[mmcgmbh]

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[hprecfest]

Day 6: fic for a ship you don't normally read

Divination For Dummies (13,084 words) by venomousbarbie on AO3

Draco/Harry

When a tell-all by Rita Skeeter reveals Ron Weasley is in fact a Seer, Draco Malfoy offers him a consulting position at his company. Neither of them really believes Ron can actually predict the future, of course, but what's the harm? The money's good and Malfoy needs the publicity. Right? It's too bad Skeeter turns out to be at least somewhat correct.

Meet Me In the Hallway (2,700 words) by apckrfan on AO3

Hermione/Severus

(Not so) Anonymous neighbours. Severus Snape finds himself intrigued by his upstairs neighbour when she slips misdelivered mail under his door over the course of six months. Detecting her moods after the first mail mixup, he decides to go see if she’s all right one night he recognizes as being a depressed mood. One shot. Romantic fluff. EWE.

Family with wolves (77,943 words) by Neulatar on AO3

Harry/Adrian Pucey

The summer comes after Harry's first year at Hogwarts and he is terrified to return to the Dursleys. So he decides that he wont. Harry makes the desperate decision to run away to the Forbidden Forest not caring about the danger. He just has to run. There in the middle of the dark forest he finds hope. Maybe you can find light in the strangest of places if you open your mind and dive right in. A werewolf story about family and love.

Collateral Damage (16,071 words) by Danpuff on AO3

Draco/Ron

What better means of revenge than seducing your enemy’s boyfriend? Nothing could possibly go wrong.

[podfic] A Soft Spot for Lost Causes by Helenish (13,099 words) by Helenish (fic) JocundaSykes (Podfic) on AO3

Draco/Ron

"Remember at school? Weasel? You’re so poor and dirty?" Ron said encouragingly "You hated me." "I did," Draco said.

The Courtship of Benjamin Jink (9,962 words) by Delphi on AO3

Horace/Severus

Horace Slughorn discovers that moving on does not always entail moving forward.

Regretfully Yours (38,983words) by Maria de Salinas on AO3

Petuna/Severus || dw rec

1981 was not Petunia's year. The day before New Year's Eve, determined to make a fresh start of it, she straps Harry and Dudley into the car and flees north--only to hit into the biggest snowstorm she's ever seen in her life. Grief-stricken and dazed by his pivot from Death Eater to teacher, Severus Snape spends his holiday far from everyone, wandering aimlessly through the snow. The last thing either of them wanted was their paths to collide, but when Petunia gets stuck in the snow, they'll get stuck with each other.

The Last Trial of Peter Pettigrew (20,779words) by Sleepstxtic on AO3

Peter/James || dw rec

Peter Pettigrew must answer for his crimes on Earth in a purgatory-stye court presided over by the Overseer. A slew of characters from his life will be brought to the stand to testify either for or against him. He will be represented by his lawyer - Hermione Granger. A jury will decide upon his guilt.

succor (40,665 words) by pluperfectsunrise on AO3

Harry/Severus || dw rec

Five times Severus Snape comforted Harry Potter, and one time Harry comforted him.

Méduse (14,127 words) by a_rum_of_ones_own on AO3

Fleur/Nymphadora || dw rec

Tonks takes a long, long drag of her cigarette. ‘I think she’d like you, too,’ she says on the exhale. ‘Why?’ Fleur asks. ‘You are intimidating as fuck. My mother appreciates a good femme fatale.’ Fleur leans back against the whitewashed façade and looks Tonks right in the face. Chin up, eyes forward: she is trying to issue a challenge. Or, possibly, to convey a vital piece of information. ‘You don’t find me intimidating.’ ‘No,’ Tonks says. ‘I am my father’s daughter, after all.’

tied and true (14,940 words) by slyther_ing on AO3

Marcus/Oliver || dw rec

There are two routes of action. Three, if he were really desperate, but Marcus doesn’t think anyone in history has ever successfully dissolved a soulmate thread before without dire consequences and he’s not willing to die over Oliver fucking Wood.

Silver Snitch (700 words) by flitterflutterfly on AO3

Marcus/Harry || dw rec

Marcus Flint had been Harry's self-proclaimed protector since first year. But in Slytherin, nothing was free. Good thing Harry didn't mind.

Only in this cold, dark place (32,159 words) by Argymate on AO3

Dudley/Draco || dw rec

Draco stumbles upon a prisoner at Malfoy Manor the summer after 6th. What begins as a curiosity leads him on an unexpected path towards something that looks a little bit like redemption.

[dollycas]

New from Victoria Laurie - A Ghoul's Gotta Do: A Ghost Hunter Mystery #Giveaway

A Ghoul's Gotta Do: A Ghost Hunter Mystery Psychic Mystery 11th in Series Publisher ‏ : ‎ Independently Published (May 17, 2024) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 328 pages ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8325949906 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0D4G6W6MP A PICTURE PAINTS A THOUSAND SCCREAMS In this long-awaited 11th installment of the New York Times bestselling Ghost Hunter Mysteries series, M.J. Holliday, her husband Heath Whitefeather, and their visiting best friend Gilley Gillespie are attacked in the Whitefeather home by a pair of demons intent on robbing Heath of his very soul and killing anyone else who stands in the way. The demons emerge from the portraits of Heath's Native American ancestors, and now the artist and driving force behind the demons' appearance--Will Morningstar--is on the run. Worse yet, a stream of subsequent attacks and murders among a few powerful members of the Santa Fe Pueblo Tribal Council tells the ghost hunters that there are more portraits, demons, and a nefarious mystery person's agenda to contend with. As circumstances change and become even more deadly, the only thing the ghost-hunting crew can count on, besides each other, is that, where Will's portraits are hung, a demon and death quickly follow. About the Author When I was in the 7th grade I took one of those career aptitude tests - you know, the ones where you answer a bunch of questions and the results indicate what profession you'd best be suited for? Yeah, well my test results indicated I was best suited for a career as a government spy. A SPY! I think I had the coolest results in the entire class. :) Needless to say, I did not follow that particular career path - or maybe I just took the more indirect route. In my thirties a very good friend of mine who is now one of the world's most renowned psychic mediums suggested I stop ignoring my talents and dive right into the professional world of a psychic intuitive. On a lark, I did. And the results were pretty mind-blowing. Within just a few short weeks even I couldn't deny it - so much of what I predicted for total strangers was coming true and I really had to accept the "gift" so to speak. Over the years I've built a really fabulous clientele and all those experiences have helped me create the Psychic Eye Mysteries, the Ghost Hunter Mysteries, and - for children - Oracles of Delphi Keep. And along that way I discovered my true love - writing. Writing is one of those passions that gets me out of bed in the morning and invigorates my day. I love spinning a good yarn, and when I feel I actually get it right - wow! There is no better feeling. In fact, the other day I was kicking back after a looooong day of writing, which ended in the completion of a manuscript and I remember just marveling in the fact that I actually get paid to daydream! I can't think of a more satisfying way to spend a life. And let's face it - it's a whole lot safer than working some covert operation. Although - I'm pretty sure the benefits might be better at the CIA. Still, I'll stick to my daydreams...at least for now... :) The Rest of the Series Find more of Victoria Laurie's books here. Thanks to the author I have 1 copy to give away! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you share the giveaway on Threads, X, or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End September 16, 2024, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen Using Random.org The Winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Read the full article

[manuverneuil]

„Titans et le petit roi“ Manu Verneuil, Villefranche-sur-Mer 2019, 80x100cm, Acryl, Farbgebung orange, schattiert, ungerahmt 🟢

Dieses Werk entstammt einer Serie von abstrakten und figurativen Motiven, die während des Jahres 2019 in Villefranche-sur-Mer entstanden sind.

Der Titel des Werkes, „Der kleine König mit seinen Titanen“ entsprang seinerzeit nach einem Künstlertreffen in Griechenland. Inspiriert durch die griechische Mythologie, findet dieses Werk Anlehnung an Kronos, der jüngste Sohn der Gaia (Erde) und des Uranos (Himmel), Anführer der Titanen sowie Vater von Zeus und den Kroniden.

Kronos war nach der Überlieferung der Herrscher der Welt und Begründer des goldenen Zeitalters und wird somit auch mit „der Zeit“ selbst in Verbindung gebracht. Er wurde von seiner Schwester Rhea zum Gatten genommen. Aus Angst, entmachtet zu werden, fraß er jedoch alle Kinder. Den jüngsten Sohn allerdings, Zeus, versteckte Rhea auf Anraten von Gaia und Uranos in einer Höhle auf Kreta, während sie dem Kronos einen in eine Windel gewickelten Stein überreichte, den dieser verschlang, ohne den Betrug zu bemerken. So konnte Zeus ungestört heranwachsen. Später gelang es Zeus, seinen Vater mit List und Gewalt zu überwinden, worauf Kronos erst den Stein und dann seine verschlungenen Kinder ausspuckte. Den Stein stellte Zeus an der Kultstätte Pytho/Delphi auf, damit er dort von den Sterblichen bestaunt werde.

Dieses Exponat ist in der Dauerausstellung in der Be’shan Art Galerie in Hamburg im Mundsburg Center zu sehen.

Anfragen zu diesem und anderen Werken, bitte direkt an mich über E-Mail: Manu.Verneuil@laposte.net

Kontaktaufnahme auch über die @beshan_art Galerie im Mundsburg Center @mundsburg_hamburg.

#art #galerie #nice06🇫🇷 #contemporary #villefranchesurmer🇫🇷 #uhlenhorst #winterhude #contemporaryart #Kronos #Greece #Titanen #KleinerKoenig

#ArtisticDevelopment #VisualArts #ArtisticExpression #Fauvism #HamburgArtScene #ArtInHamburg #CôteDAzur #InnovativeArt #CulturalHeritage #ArtCollective #abstractart #peintre #acrylicpainting

#anders_abstract_art #nicecotedazur #expressionism #heuteinhamburg

[andronetalks]

People are making ‘digital clones’ of themselves — to do their work for them

New York Post By Brooke SteinbergPublished April 15, 2024Updated April 15, 2024, 3:56 p.m. ET Talk about an “ageless body.” Holistic health advocate Deepak Chopra, 77, is one of several people who have digitally “cloned” themselves to do their work for them. Chopra’s lifelike-AI — originally conceived in 2019 — fills in on Zoom calls, the Daily Mail reports. Delphi, touted as the world’s first…