#toys for perpetual children

[starswallowingsea]

fic where shu just ends up being uncharacteristically kind and helpful trying to help a little kid find their parents at a craft fair

[malinaa]

writing viv n eva and they r so... i love Sisters

[muzzlemouths]

[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

[yuesgirlfriend]

of birds and honey

part 1

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

summary: the year is 1312, and your fathers knight follows you to the wood.

The great hills surrounding the castle are a patchwork of green and yellows, as they always are during the summer months. Gray skies up ahead do nothing to dampen the mood of the castle; everyone is bustling about, preparing for the feast marking the new battalions arrival, as if their presence signifies something happier than impending war. 

She can see them, now, where she is perched atop the highest wall-practiced, without fear- in a way her old governesses would have certainly called unbecoming of a lady. But did not the bible speak of the virtues of a young lady- justice, fortitude, among them?

(It takes great fortitude to learn the secrets she has learned, to climb over steep walls like they were bales of hay, to listen to words she would have heard anyway, had she been born a man. Listening from the eaves and skulking about is an act of justice, not a sin.) 

The men, traversing down the trail, look like ants, she thinks- where she sits high above them, balancing on the stone, they look like children's toys. Tiny wooden figures, a small boy's idea of heroes, lined up on the yellow-green patchwork quilt. 

When they finally ride over the moat and into the stronghold, they look like any other collection knights she has seen- some cloaked, some helmetless, all shining in the half clouded, setting sun. 

That night is boisterous and rowdy, like any other feast. The courtyard is crowded with people- servants, villagers, everyone coming together to eat and drink and be merry. The tables are laden with the finest of foods. The smell of roast goose and heron, wine, and vomit hangs in the night air with the shouts and bawdy songs. The new knights drink and eat and throw things, singing their songs with everyone else.  The castle hums with life, every voice and every soul another cell in one great organism. 

(The whole time, she sits quietly as a lady should, but listens as a lady shouldn’t. No one notices, and why would they notice the Lord’s waif of a girl, silently eating at his right hand? The servants, the townspeople, even her father speak of her when they think she isn’t listening- she is, to them, as unnaturally quiet as a changeling and as likely to smile as a mourner. Such a shame, my lord, that  her birth took your wife, god rest her soul. And for the child to not even be a boy…)

The stories that feast are rambling and, wine drunk, but the message is clear- they are hired soldiers with no Christian names, under orders from the king to protect the stronghold that is her home.

But one stands out. The only one still wearing his painted  helmet, and as such doesn’t eat or drink with his companions. Instead, he sits on her fathers left side, speaking in low and gruff tones only when spoken to. 

She picks at her food as her ears pick up words like more men and allies and a thousand dead, all spoken in an accent she thinks more suited to a farmer than a soldier.

As the feast begins to die down, dancers lying about drunk, he walks with her Lord father, presumably to show him a weak point in the castle walls.

She follows along, unseen, silent footsteps trailing behind them in the shadows. The knight with the painted helmet is tall and broad when he waves a hand at a wall that, upon closer inspection, does seem weaker than the rest. A chink in the castle’s armor, he says. 

The fire dies out, people lay around in drunken heaps, and rats are scurrying for food in corners of the room by the time she retires for the night. Her maid is nowhere to be found- based on the way the Scotsman and her were wrapped around eachother earlier, it is likely best not to go looking for her- so she wanders alone to her quarters, a candle in one hand and a half eaten honey cake in the other. 

The halls are dimly lit labrynths, and every footstep she takes makes a wet scuff along the perpetually damp straw covering the chilled stone floors. She does not believe in sneaking about when not needed, and enjoys a reprieve from constant surveillance as she licks honey carelessly from her fingers, focusing more on the sweetness of the honey cake than her surroundings.

And just as she turns the corner to the starcase, a hand shoots out from a shadow  and grabs her arm. 

Her gasp is muffled by a large hand, gloved. His other hand plucks the candle from her grasp, rests it on the narrow windowsill behind him. She scrapes and thrashes at the silver of his forearm, scrambling to reach for the knife at his side before he speaks. 

“Pray, be silent, Lady- I know you are able.”

In response, she bites down on the gloved hand, hard. The man hisses but doesn’t let go, only roughly spins her to face him; and this is when she realizes it is the helmeted knight, eyes and armor shiny in the candlelight. 

She shoves at his arms, and he concedes, letting her retreat three steps up the stairs before he takes her by the hand again. 

“Release me, sir, or you will not enjoy the consequences,” She hisses. Something furious inside her is growing like a wildfire. 

“I meant no offense, but only to warn you, fair lady,” he says, seemingly contrite, but with mirth in his voice. Is he smiling, behind that hideous helmet? 

“Warn me?” She rips her hand from his. “Of what? Churlish knights, skulking behind corners?” She turns to go. 

“You are one to scold on skulking behind corners, Lady. ” Her feet freeze where they are on the steps. 

 “Yes.” His voice is rough. “You are not as invisible as you may think- not to those trained to see, Lady.  You should exercise more caution, when listenin’ from rafters and castle walls like a little bird.” He tilts his head, eyes trained on her, like a cat looking at a tree it’d like to climb. Or a bird it’d like to claw.

“I have been told you have a lovely mind. It would be a waste to see it dashed on a tower’s stony base.” 

For the first time in ages, she forces her eyes to meet anothers. His are dark, redless, with what looks like coal smudged on his eyelids and undereyes. His eyes never falter from her stare, as would be proper. His pale lashes don’t so much as flutter. 

She turns and continues walking upstairs- but before she rounds the corner, she looks behind and down to where he stands, at the base of the stairs, licking remnants of honey off his glove. 

[girlkisser13]

hebe cabin headcanons

children of hebe

• the younger they are, the easier they are to trace. this is due to their mother being the goddess of youth.

• they are very forgiving, compassionate, and understanding individuals. they have this aura of kindness that often makes them the best people to talk to about personal problems.

• they’re the innocent one in the friend group.

• they have celestial bronze legos that they scatter in front of barefoot monsters.

• baby faces. all of them.

• they all have naturally clear skin.

• they find "anti-aging" skin creams so amusing. they all the real way to stay youthful forever, and it’s a lot less pleasant than slapping lotion onto your face.

• they 100% run a skincare business with the aphrodite cabin.

• none of them are american.

• they all speak different languages but they’re all able to understand each other.

• it’s the same way babies can seemingly talk and understand each other. even if there are differences, they still seem to share a deep innate language with each other.

• they’re the embodiment of a healed inner child.

• you know those people in the hospitality industry who are, like, scary good at their job?

• like the hotel concierge, or maître d’hotel, or wedding planner who runs the tightest ship you’ve ever seen, and can provide services for their customers that don’t even seem possible?

• those are the children of hebe.

• they’d also make really good servers, bartenders, and plastic surgeons.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is adorned with a variety of fresh flowers, growing in beds around the cabin or hanging in baskets. they also feature hebe shrubs (named after their mother).

• the architecture incorporates playful and youthful design elements, such as carvings of children and decorations of butterflies, and birds.

• small fountains of water surround the cabin, adding a sense of freshness and continuous renewal. the sound of trickling water could create a calming and rejuvenating atmosphere. there is a big one right in front of the entrance that represents the fountain of youth.

• a statue of their mother, hebe, stands near the entrance, she’s holding a chalice as she did in mythology, symbolizing her role as the cupbearer to the gods.

• a wide, welcoming porch with comfortable seating invite campers to relax and enjoy the youthful energy that the cabin exudes. the porch is decorated with cozy cushions and potted plants.

cabin interior

• lots of pastels, stained glass, curtains, but still a very comfortable and welcoming area. they also have a huge vending machine in the cabin.

• the cabin is constantly filled with the scent of blossoms and fresh grass, giving it a perpetually fresh and lively feel.

• since hebe is associated with youth and beauty, there are elegant vanity tables with ornate mirrors. these mirrors have a subtle magical quality, enhancing the viewer’s best features.

• the furniture is cozy and inviting, with plush couches and bean bags. the beds are adorned with soft, fluffy blankets and pillows, making it a perfect place for relaxation and rest.

• there's a dedicated space for physical fitness and wellness activities. this includes yoga mats, light weights, and an assortment of health and beauty products.

• they have a collection of vintage items and keepsakes from different eras. they include old-fashioned toys, games, and memorabilia that evoke nostalgia.

• they have a small fountain in the center of their cabin. the water has minor rejuvenating properties, offering a sense of refreshment and renewal to anyone who drinks from it.

cabin traditions

• every morning, they start their day with a refreshing drink of ambrosia-infused water. i headcanon that the infused water acts as caffeine for them.

• once a week, they host a game night featuring classic childhood games, like tag, hopscotch, and hide-and-seek.

• each member of the cabin dedicates one day each month to perform acts of kindness and service around the camp, helping to spread positive energy and support among fellow campers.

• they have a jar inside of their cabin where they can drop notes about happy moments or achievements. at the end of the summer, they read through the notes to reflect on their growth and experiences.

• regular arts and crafts sessions where they make bracelets, charms, and other small items symbolizing youth and vitality, often gifting these to other campers as tokens of friendship.

divider by @v6que

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is that assassin/mercenary/sometimes protection that all the other hitter/enforcers respect and fear a little (a lot) - heck at this point Hob job is almost too easy with all the scaredy punk guys out there who turn in the other direction when they see him. Which, Hob guesses, is helpful since he's mostly doing protection now a days.

Hob doesn’t generally take jobs involving children, but when he was contacted about protecting Orpheus Endless from aggressive kidnapping attempts - bystanders had been hurt during the last attempt, and multiple cars were exploded as a distraction, outside the kid's school - he figures he could at least take a meeting.

Hob was not prepared for the seismic shift in his world when he finally met Morpheus and Orpheus Endless. Morpheus was gorgeous and scared; Orpheus was old enough to know what was going on, but didn’t understand why someone was going through so much trouble to take him from his father. Hob tried to be cool, because this was a serious situation, but he all but said yes without asking for any additional specifics......Orpheus and Morpheus were already his.

Orpheus's other father was Roderick Burgess's preferred son, Randall. When Randall died doing whatever shady illegal "business" Roderick sent him on, Roderick became obsessed with getting his heir back in the form of Orpheus.

YES more of the sexy scary a.m!Hob vibes!!!

Orpheus takes to Hob straight away - he looks past the scary vibes and the perpetual scowl, and sees a man who can lift him and spin him and carry him on his shoulders. Hob submits willingly to all of it, and more. He treats Orpheus like a mini adult, and has very serious conversations with all of his stuffed toys.

And for all he's already in love with Orpheus, he's falling a thousand times harder for Morpheus. Hob takes one look at those strong, determined, angry eyes... and knows that he'll follow this man to the ends of the earth. He proves it, too - next time Roderick sends in his goons, Hob takes great pleasure in executing the whole batch and mailing their fingers back to their boss.

They move to a new city, all three of them, at Morpheus’s request. He doesn't feel safe anymore. Mr Gadling, his charming silent husband and their young son, blend seamlessly into the new neighbourhood. Hob could get a little too used to being Morpheus’s husband, actually. But even if Morpheus rejects him completely, Hob will protect him and his son every day for their rest of his life. And he intends to live for a very long time, so Burgess better watch out...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Union pensions are funding private equity attacks on workers

On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

If end-stage capitalism has a motto, it's this: "Stop hitting yourself." The great failure of "voting with your wallet" is that you're casting ballots in a one party system (The Capitalism Party), and the people with the thickest wallets get the most votes.

During the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese state would bill the families of executed dissidents for the ammunition used to execute their loved ones:

https://www.quora.com/Is-it-true-the-Chinese-government-makes-the-families-of-executed-people-pay-for-the-cost-of-bullets

In end-stage capitalism, the dollars we spend to feed ourselves are used to capture the food supply and corrupt our political process:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

And the dollars we save for retirement are flushed into the stock market casino, a game that is rigged against us, where we are always the suckers at the table:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/25/derechos-humanos/#are-there-no-poorhouses

Everywhere and always, we are financing our own destruction. It's quite a Mr Gotcha moment:

https://thenib.com/mister-gotcha/

Now, anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. We are living through a broad, multi-front counter-revolution to Reaganomics and neoliberal Democratic Party sellouts. The FTC and DOJ Antitrust Division are dragging Big Tech and Big Meat and Big Publishing into court. We're seeing bans on noncompete clauses, and high-profile government enforcers are publicly pledging never to work for corporate law-firms when they quit public service:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/09/nein-nein/#everything-is-miscellaneous

And of course, there's the reinvigoration of the labor movement! Hot Labor Summer is now Perpetual Labor September, with 75,000 Kaiser workers walking out alongside the UAW, SAG-AFTRA and 2,350 other groups of workers picketing, striking or protesting:

https://striketracker.ilr.cornell.edu/

But capitalism still gets a lick in. Union pension plans are some of the most important investors in private equity funds. Your union pension dollars are probably funding the union-busting, child-labor-employing, civilization-destroying Gordon Gecko LARPers who are also evicting you from the rental they bought and turned into a slum, and will then murder you in a hospice that they bought and turned into a slaughterhouse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Writing for The American Prospect, Rachel Phua rounds up the past, present and future of union pension funds backing private equity monsters:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-10-04-workers-funding-misery-private-equity-pension-funds/

Private equity and hedge funds have destroyed 1.3 million US jobs:

https://united4respect.org/press-release/people-who-work-at-walmart-sears-amazon-formerly-toys-r-us-more-join-forces-together-as-united-for-respect-2-2-2-2-5-3/

They buy companies and then illegally staff them with children:

https://www.dol.gov/newsroom/releases/whd/whd20230217-1

They lobby against the minimum wage:

https://pestakeholder.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Insire-Brands-memo-on-15-wage.pdf

They illegally retaliate against workers seeking to unionize their jobsite:

https://www.hoteldive.com/news/dc-hotel-workers-enlist-us-representatives-to-fight-sofitel-union-busting/650396/

And they couldn't do it without union pension funds. Public service union pensions have invested $650 million with PE funds. In 2001, the share of public union pensions invested in PE was 3.5%; today, it's 13%:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1B0vv26VEFmwtfw5ur6dSDMY8NftvZKij/

Giant public union funds like CalPERS are planning massive increases in their contributions to PE:

https://www.calpers.ca.gov/page/newsroom/calpers-news/2023/calpers-preliminary-investment-return-fiscal-year-2022-23

This results in some ghastly and ironic situations. Aramark used funds from a custodian's union to bid against that union's members for contracts, in an attempt to break the union and force the workers to take a paycut to $11/hour:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2012-11-20/pension-fund-gains-mean-worker-pain-as-aramark-cuts-pay

Blackstone's investors include the California State Teachers Retirement System (CalSTRS). The PE ghouls who sucked Toys R Us dry were funded by Texas teachers.

Then there's KKR, one of the most rapacious predators of the PE world. Half of the investors in KKR's Global Infrastructure Investors IV fund are public sector pension funds. Those workers' money were spent to buy up Refresco (Arizona Iced Tea, Tropicana juices, etc), a transaction that immediately precipitated a huge spike in on-the-job accidents as KKR cut safety and increased tempo:

https://www.osha.gov/ords/imis/establishment.inspection_detail?id=1675674.015

Petsmart is the poster-child for PE predation. The company uses TRAPs ("TrainingRepaymentAgreementProvision") clauses to recreate indentured servitude, forcing workers to pay thousands of dollars to quit their jobs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

Why would a Petsmart employee want to quit? Petsmart's PE owner is BC Partners, and under BC's management, workers have been forced to work impossible hours while overseeing cruel animal abuse, including starving sick animals to death rather than euthanizing them, and then being made to sneak them into dumpsters on the way home from work so Petsmart doesn't have to pay for cremation. 24 of BC Partners' backers are public pension funds, including CalSTRS and the NYC Employees' Retirement System:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-06-02-days-of-plunder-morgenson-rosner-ballou-review/

PE buyouts are immediately followed by layoffs. One in five PE acquisitions goes bankrupt. Unions should not be investing in PE. But the managers of these funds defend the practice, saying they "facilitate dialog" with the PE bosses on workers' behalf.

This isn't total nonsense. Once upon a time, public pension fund managers put pressure on investees to force them to divest from Apartheid South Africa and tobacco companies. Even today, public pensions have successfully applied leverage to get fund managers to drop Russian investments after the invasion of Ukraine. And public pensions pulled out of the private prison sector, tanking the valuation of some of the largest players.

But there's no evidence that this leverage is being applied to pensions' PE billions. It's not like PE is a great deal for these pensions. PE funds don't reliably outperform the market, especially after PE bosses' sky-high fees are clawed back:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3623820

Pension funds could match or beat their PE returns by sticking the money in a low-load Vanguard index tracker. What's more, PE is getting worse, pioneering new scams like inflating the value of companies after they buy and strip-mine them, even though there's no reason to think anyone would buy these hollow companies at the price that the PE companies assign to them for bookkeeping purposes:

https://www.institutionalinvestor.com/article/2bstqfcskz9o72ospzlds/opinion/why-does-private-equity-get-to-play-make-believe-with-prices

To inject a little verisimilitude into this obvious fantasy, PE companies sell their portfolio companies to themselves at inflated prices, in a patently fraudulent shell-game:

https://www.ft.com/content/646d00f4-af5d-4267-a436-54fb3bc1697b

What's more, PE funds aren't just bad bosses, they're also bad landlords. PE-backed funds have scooped up an appreciable fraction of America's housing stock, transforming good rentals into slums:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/27/extraordinary-popular-delusions/#wall-street-slumlords

PE is really pioneering a literal cradle-to-grave immiseration strategy. First, they gouge you on your kids' birth:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/27/crossing-a-line/#zero-fucks-given

Then, they slash your wages and steal from your paycheck:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3465723

Then, they evict you from your home:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/05/vulture-capitalism/#distressed-assets

And then they murder you as part of a scam they're running on Medicare:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/05/any-metric-becomes-a-target/#hca

As the labor movement flexes its muscle, it needs to break this connection. Workers should not be paying for the bullet that their bosses put through their skulls.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/05/mr-gotcha/#no-ethical-consumption-under-capitalism

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[misforgotten2]

That’s right people! There are no “Only Children.” It is a myth perpetuated by Big Toy companies.

Parents Magazine - March 1967

[houndsinhades]

WIP Snippet

Thank you @tackytigerfic and @maesterchill for the tags! I’ve taken a small break from this one during summer madness, but I’m excited to get back to writing and finishing it!

She carried the letter into Lyall’s study, and slipped it under that morning’s newspaper, forcing herself to look at the headline again without being sick. Three children this time, under the age of ten - two of them found dead in their bedroom in Merseyside after the full moon left their mattresses shredded and their walls stained crimson with their own innocence. Three children from the same home, and their parents hadn’t been able to identify which body belonged to which one of their beloved daughters after that monster was finished tearing them apart.

They still hadn’t found the third child.

She ran her hand over her face and tried not to imagine that the third child had anything to do with why her husband still wasn’t home.

“Rem?” she called out, after covering the paper and Lyall’s letters with a heavy text on common medicinal herbs. She could hear her son’s feet down the hall, and looked at the open doorway just as he ran through it on his tiptoes, straddling the toy broomstick between his knobby knees.

“Yeah, mam?” Remus asked, bouncing a few feet off the ground each time he pushed his toes against the blue carpet like it was a trampoline. Hope wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss his cheeks a hundred times over. She wanted to commit every inch of him to memory - his tawny hair, his chestnut eyes, the dimple on his left cheek and the small mole on the right side of his jaw. Every one of the dozens of freckles that dusted his nose and shoulders. The gap in his front teeth that he sprayed bathwater through. His perpetually bruised knees. The way his laugh sounded when he ran through the house in the morning.

They hadn’t been able to identify their daughter’s bodies.

No pressure tags: @sophsicle @marigold-hills @abz-coralsunset @skeptiquewrites @sweet-s0rr0w

[farity]

Sorrow, part 14

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Elyse flinched at Otto's shout from the doorway, and Aemond immediately moved to her side.

"Jacaerys Velaryon in the Small Council? Tell me it is a jest," Otto continued, "please tell me it is you merely toying with that bastard boy."

Behind him, Alicent stood with her hands clasped, her face not giving away which side she was on.

"I am the Regent," Aemond replied, one hand on Elyse's shoulder, "and I have decided-"

"You decide nothing!"

Aemond took a step forward, facing his grandsire, and smirked. "I could decide to make him my new Hand."

Alicent gasped, and the fury in Otto's eyes turned into confusion.

"I am not Aegon, grandfather. I am not going to ignore my duties to drink and whore and let you run the realm. I mean to rule until my nephew is of age, and your place here is to advise and support."

Otto stared at him for a few seconds, then bowed, turned, and left.

"Aemond," Alicent whispered, rushing in past her father, "please do not turn this into a rift. I do not know what you are intending-"

"That is precisely the point, mother, you do not. Perhaps you might wish to spend more time with your grandchildren."

He did not say the rest, but Elyse could swear that she heard the threat in his words. While you can.

Alicent, too, turned and left, and Elyse waited until her footsteps faded away before turning to Aemond. "I would not make enemies out of them."

He kissed her forehead. "I do not wish to, but I wear the crown now, and I mean to make different choices.' I see only death if we continue in this path, and I have a chance to avoid such a destiny."

"Brother?"

They both turned at the small, tremulous sound of Helaena's voice.

"Is it true?"

Aemond extended his hand to his sister. "Is what true, sweet sister?"

Helaena looked from Aemond to Elyse and back again. "Jace might not die? He might," she swallowed, "be in the council?"

"It is up to him to make that choice."

"He was always very kind to me, Aemond," she added. "It is not his fault, you see, who his parents are. It is none of our faults."

"But it has been his choice to continue to perpetuate the lie."

Helaena's eyes began to fill with tears and Aemond closed his eye for a moment. "Hel, if he chooses to cooperate, I will not see him harmed. Unless he betrays me."

Sniffling, Helaena nodded. "I understand. I would not want that." She stood there, simply staring at Aemond until Elyse stood and hugged her, wiping away a tear that had escaped.

"Tell me about Jace," she said softly, leading the queen out of Aemond's study.

* * * * *

When Elyse returned to her rooms after speaking with Helaena, she found Alicent waiting for her.

"You must make him see."

Elyse stopped the sigh bubbling up in her chest. "Make who see what, Your Grace?" she began walking towards her little desk but Alicent grabbed her arm.

"Aemond. He should not defy my father so boldly, not after everything he has done for our family, all the years serving my lord husband, and then Aegon-"

"But neither of them sit the throne now," Elyse said, pulling her arm away.

"And Aemond listens to you."

Elyse smiled, "I would not presume to give him advice on ruling, I know so little of politics and governing."

"But you can sway him to continue the path that has been charted instead of this madness of putting Jacaerys on the council. What is he thinking?"

When Elyse said nothing, Alicent grabbed her again. "He is besotted with you, stupid girl, even though you cannot give him children, which is a woman's greatest joy and her only consolation in this life, but he is-"

"Stop it!" Elyse tried to push away but Alicent would not let go. "You need to leave, Your Grace, I will not be-"

"What is this?"

Both women turned at the sound of Aemond's voice. He stood in the doorway, slashes of color on his cheeks. "I asked a question."

"Aemond," Alicent said, rushing to him, "your wife sees things like I do, she would have you follow your grandfather's wise counsel and-"

"I said no such thing!" Elyse exclaimed, rubbing her arms where Alicent had held her.

"I thought lying was a sin, mother," Aemond said softly. "You better than most should know that."

Alicent clutched at his jacket. "Aemond, you cannot bring that bastard into our midst, he will betray you, maybe even attack your wife, have you thought of that?"

"Mother, I agree with my wife in that you should leave."

"Finally, Aemond, you can have your vengeance," Alicent continued, her voice frantic. "All these years, the sins of Rhaenyra and her family gone unpunished, and now you can end them."

"Enough!"

Elyse flinched, but Aemond merely grabbed his mother's hands, pulling them off him.

"I should see you confined to your rooms mother, at my pleasure, until such a time you have regained your composure. Guard!"

Alicent stared up at him, slack-jawed, until the guard appeared at her side, and then turned to leave silently.

* * * * *

"It will never end," Aemond said, rubbing his face. "Always plotting and scheming. I might have enjoyed it once, but now . . . "

Elyse sat on the thick rug by the fireplace. "Come here."

He laid down, placing his head on her lap. "I am sorry I frightened you. I did not mean to-"

"Do not worry about such things. It is the vestiges of my old life that still remain, but I know you mean me no harm," she said gently, caressing his hair. "May I remove your eye patch?"

Aemond nodded, letting her remove the leather strap as well as the tie that held his hair back. She began lightly running her fingers through the long locks and he felt his shoulders begin to unknot. "You are a balm, wife. A balm to soothe my jagged soul."

She laughed softly. "I do not see a jagged soul, Aemond. I see a man who finally has a chance to make a better world."

"Do you think it is possible? A better world, I mean."

She caressed his cheek. "It is always possible. Once I dared not dream of it, but you saved me and now I am happy here."

He said nothing, but took her hand and brought it to his lips.

"I want you to know something, and it doesn't have to mean anything. I mean, it does, but it should not be a burden on you, and it should not make you feel-"

"What is it, Elyse?"

She bit down on her lip for a moment, and then smiled at him. "I love you, you see."

He could only stare up at her, the words caught in his throat, and then she leaned down to kiss him.

"Elyse," he whispered.

"Shh," she placed a finger over his lips. "I just wanted you to know, Aemond, that you have my heart."

Aemond reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "It is the greatest treasure I have ever received." He rose up on his elbow, "I do not know what love is, wife, so I cannot profess that I love you, but you do have whatever black, rotten thing remains of my heart. And I know it is safe in your keeping."

He pulled her down to kiss her and felt her tears fall onto his cheek, but then she was laughing, and he smiled, wondering if amidst all the awful things he'd done there was a sliver of a chance the Seven might pity him and give him joy.

* * * * *

[minjeungsno1fan]

I have a lot of ideas about what the dead trio’s ghosts look like so another patented Locke ramble yay

Xander is a walking (floating?) electrical current. Not only that, but they are permanently covered in water no matter how much he attempts to dry himself. Anytime they touch Min and Arei, he gives them both electric shocks. He doesn’t have the wound on their neck (because he got it after he died) but he still has the burn on their fingers and the missing eye. He’s pretty pissed about that last part.

Min is in the worst shape out of the three of them. Her arm is gone and her other arm & leg are still broken. She’s glad that ghosts can’t exactly feel pain, because otherwise walking would be agony for her. Her hair often spikes up into what resembles wolf ears and Xander swears it on his (after)life that she has a tail. Her sleeve is tied like a tourniquet around her missing arm.

Arei is too perpetually soaked, but less so than Xander. Only her feet are wet, which sucks but it’s better than her whole body. She has a noose wrapped around her neck that she can’t take off. She also has random toys and children’s playthings floating around her as she died in the playground. They have no physical form (even for the ghosts) and are merely illusions except for a jump rope (adding insult to injury much?).

[storyofmychoices]

International Day of Women and Girls in Science

Celebrating three of the loveliest ladies: Olivia Hadley, Merida Rhys (@lilyoffandoms), and Casey MacTavish (@jerzwriter)

The interviewer sat down with Olivia, Merida, and Casey in the comfort of the diagnostic office, which the boys had since been required to vacate, despite one Ethan Ramsey grumpily insisting that it was his office and he would do no such thing. But today was not about him or any of the men. Today was about the girls! (As all days truly should be.)

Interviewer: Thank you all for joining me today. It's my pleasure to sit down with not one but three young, successful, and distinguished women of science in medicine. Olivia, you're a pediatrician, and Casey and Merida, you both work as diagnosticians. How did you find your passion for medicine?

Olivia: Well, for me, it started when I was a little girl. I loved diagnosing and caring for my bears and dolls. I took my toy stethoscope everywhere, set on saving the world. Now, it's about wanting to make a positive impact in children's lives. The joy of helping them grow up healthy and happy is truly a gift.

Casey: I've wanted to be a doctor as long as I can remember and was drawn to the diagnostic side of medicine early on. The challenge of solving complex medical cases and uncovering the root cause has been a driving force for me.

Merida: Likewise, the puzzle-solving aspect fascinated me. Being a diagnostician allows us to dive deeper into medical mysteries—be a detective of sorts—it's a constant learning experience.

Interviewer: In the fast-paced world of medicine, how do you manage work-life balance, and do you have any advice for others aspiring to do the same?

Olivia: Two words. Self-care! It's definitely about prioritizing self-care and making time for things that are important to me. I've particularly found yoga helpful and have a therapy yoga group once a week with the children at the hospital. I've been trying to convince these two—*tilts her head toward her two friends*—to join me in some cat and warrior poses, but let's just say, my enthusiasm hasn't quite rubbed off on them.

Merida: You know we love you, Liv, but—

Casey: —yoga gives me more stress.

Olivia: *laughs softly* I'll convert them one day. But seriously, it's important to make time to care for yourself. My advice is to remember that you can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself first.

Casey: The work-life balance is a perpetual juggling act, especially in diagnostics, where cases can be unexpectedly demanding and schedules become unpredictable. Time management and setting realistic expectations are key. It's also important to have a support system, both at work and home and don't be afraid to take a break for a few minutes when you need it. Even a short break can make a difference.  

Merida: In the diagnostic world, there's this constant pursuit of answers to solve the puzzle. To maintain balance, I've learned to compartmentalize. When I'm at work, I'm fully engaged, and when I'm off-duty, I prioritize personal time. My advice is to find what works for you and not feel guilty about taking breaks. Balance is subjective, and it's about finding harmony that aligns with your values and what you need.

Casey: It doesn't hurt to have great friends to fall back on either.

Merida: I can't argue with that!

Olivia: Group hug! *wraps her arms around her friends pulling them in*

The three laugh and tease each other before settling back into the interview!

Interviewer: Edenbrook Hospital is known for its collaborative and supportive environment. How does that dynamic play out in your day-to-day work?

Olivia: Pediatrics often involves collaboration with various specialists to provide comprehensive care. Having a hospital with a culture that encourages teamwork is crucial for our young patients. Sometimes, even the little ones end up with rare and difficult-to-diagnosis illnesses. When that's the case, I'm glad that I have Merida and Casey to reach out to for help. 

Merida: Absolutely. In diagnostics, collaboration is key as well. We consult with each other and different departments to ensure we're considering all angles when tackling a case. We need to make sure we keep an open relationship with all departments so we know they'll be there when we need them. 

Casey: Working in diagnostics, it's really a team effort. Nothing is done solo. We're in it together. It's like having a second, third, or even fourth set of eyes and brains. We share our thoughts and insights, debate until we reach an agreement, and ultimately work together to provide the best care for our patients.

Merida: *laughs* Debate! That's a good word for what occurs between Ramsey and Carrick. But, you're right, at the end of the day, all we do is for the best of our patients. 

Interviewer: Women in science are often underrepresented. How do you navigate this space and inspire the next generation of female medical professionals?

Olivia: Representation matters. By excelling in our respective fields, we hope to show aspiring female doctors that they belong and can thrive in the world of medicine. For me, I want all the little girls I work with to know they are capable of greatness even now when they're so young. 

Merida: It's about breaking stereotypes. We're not just doctors; we're diagnosticians and pediatricians—capable professionals contributing significantly to the medical field. We always look for ways to better ourselves and our field. We work together and support one another.

Casey: Exactly! Collaboration and support are absolutely essential, not just between ourselves and our teams but with younger medical students. Mentorship is crucial. Encouraging young women to pursue careers in science and medicine, providing guidance, and showing them that they can succeed are vital for creating lasting change.

Merida: We were honored to be invited to a local high school last week to speak with some science classes to try to encourage women in the sciences. 

Casey: We've also spoken as guest lecturers at Boston College. It was inspiring to see so many students at the start of their medical journeys.

Olivia: Speaking of starts, I don't think you can ever be too young to be inspired for a future in medicine. I was lucky enough to attend a career day at a local elementary school. It was really cute to see so many potential future doctors running around in their play lab coats! Seriously, I don't know how you two deal with adult patients all day when you could be spending time with little cuties!

Merida: It takes a special person to connect with kids the way you do, Liv. I've seen it firsthand. I think Casey and I are better suited for the medical mysteries of the adult world. Kids need someone with your warmth and patience. You've found your calling, and we've found ours. It's a good balance. The world needs both!

Olivia: Love you! Both of you! I think supporting each other is the best way we can help each other and foster a positive environment for future female doctors and scientists.

Casey: Too often women in the workplace are pitted against one another. Medicine is no exception.

Merida: Overcoming that and moving forward with a mindset of supporting and encouraging each other makes the workplace a better place for all and better for our patients.

Interviewer: Your support of each other is beautiful to witness. You three are not only inspirational doctors but also exemplars of enduring friendship, a bond I'm certain benefits all who walk in the doors of Edenbrook.

[yanban-san]

How do you think your submas aus would react to their object of affection already having a child (either adopted or from a previous partner)? There could be such different reactions among them, some potentially veering very badly, and some really good, that I can't help but be curious!

I don't know- I think it would also heavily depend on the children involved. I actually think drider or hydreigon boys would react best- They'd treat the children like their own offspring, and shower them with as much affection as they could. Hydreigon boys would probably be worried about how "weak" human kids are, but also happy they aren't blind, like Deinos are. The Driders are teaching the children how to weave and catch fish- Bugcatchers are a staple toy in your house for the kids.

The Androids would probably regard the children as Extra Special VIP passengers- They have all sorts of protocols and data on interacting with children, and while they adore you, your children are obviously, very precious to you! It would probably make them feel more human with you, too; Aren't you just the image of a lovely, happy family? And if they endear the children to themselves, well...

The Eldritch Boys are probably the ones with the most curious reaction. I can't say for certain how they would react- They understand "loving" you as giving you all you desire, even if it is in a "wrong", or messed-up sort-of-way. A child, already yours? What father do they have, they wonder? And what better way to earn their place by your side than if they prove themselves to be suitable parental figures? Your child will be powerful; They shall know ancient, forbidden knowledge that the greatest of occult sorcerers have spent decades of their lives seeking, and all as fun little bedtime stories told to them from the lap of an Elder God. But in all honesty, the children would probably find themselves closer to Kudari- And as much as Kudari delights in them, he has trouble bonding with them. Earning your affection is hard, certainly, yes- But a child's affection should be easy to get, right? Well, depends on the child.

Nobori has a lot of trouble getting along with children- His face and the darkness about him give him a rather frightening aura. He tries not to be so somber or... Depressing, as Kudari so bluntly puts it, around them- But the perpetual glower on his face is still a deterrent. He gets better if he views the children like little Depot Agents, oddly. He finds it easier to give praise and talk to kids if he's showing them how to do something, or teaching them about battling.

[tyrranux64]

00 - THE FOOL Sora is the most foolish of innocents, especially when he leaves his fate to the machinations of others. And when he does have his own agency he tends to be too reckless and headstrong. Of course his inherit knuckleheaded nature can be his best quality, pulling out an unexpected surprise that not even the most carefully calculating villain can possibly account for. And since the beginning of his quest, he's never really needed the conventional outdated wisdom of so called "Masters", he has always forged his own path.

01 - THE MAGICIAN It is no secret that Tony Stark is a creative genius. After all he was able to develop a revolutionary perpetual energy reactor the size of a human hand in a cave with but a bunch of scraps. Is it any surprise he was even able to casually discover time travel whilst in his pajamas? And don't even get me started on all the razzle dazzle he tends to put on his wonderful toys. Guess the line between science and magic truly is a razor thin one....

02 - THE HIGH PRIESTESS The knowledge of what the future holds is something reserved for God, but alas such knowledge has been dropped right onto Tsukino Usagi’s lap. Her marriage to Mamoru, the existence of her future daughter Chibiusa, the fated ascension to Neo Queen Serenity and the rise of Silver Millennium. All just dumped before a high school student who is already having trouble just trying to graduate. It is a lot to unpack and Usagi must now prepare herself to take on the inevitable burdens before her. To trust her instincts and learn from her past mistakes. She has a lot to learn ahead of her and not as much time as she thinks she has to do it…. 

03 - THE EMPRESS For what else is the Princess of Friendship but a surrogate mother? What else are the people of her kingdom but her adopted children? They are not subjects to be ruled, they are her family. This is why Twilight Sparkle ascended to the heights of an alicorn, to uphold the responsibility of being a parent.

04 - THE EMPEROR There is no question his allies and friends look to him as a "leader", though that is more because of him being the biggest fish among them and their resulting dependance on his power. And as a father figure? Well, it is quite telling that his most defining act as a father to his son Gohan is a last ditch effort to fix the mess he created himself. But hey, better to be the father that sacrifices himself to save their child than the one that leaves them to die in the lion's den....

05 - THE HIEROPHANT As Bruce Wayne, his political influence upon the world is limited to the amount of charity money he can dish out, still having to abide by the system that puts him in the one percent. People just don't take him seriously enough to listen. But as the Batman, he can move droves of people with action. His battle against crime garnering the respect of even the police, those that faced his judgement have no choice but to heed his words. The cape and cowl is unbound by the petty status quo of society, he has no strings to hold him back. Everyone listens to the bat.

06 - THE LOVERS The Freedom Fighters don't just have one heart, they have two. Sally Acorn, the one to think up the plan of action. Sonic the Hedgehog, the one to take action. Two halves of the same singular ray of hope to guide the rag tag group of resistance to victory. Though they do not think alike (and can sometimes get on each other's nerves) they are still harmonized, able to work together at the most dire of straights. With only one of them, the Freedom Fighters are compromised, without both they are lost....

07 - THE CHARIOT The four Ninja Turtles were taught ninjitsu purely to survive in a world that would not accept them, told to stay in the shadows where it is safe. But perhaps because of their excess of superhero comic books or just their mutant ability to feel empathy, they cannot help but jump into action when someone is in trouble. They are always tapping into that most primordial of heroic traits, the will to act.

08 - STRENGTH It takes more than just "strength" alone to tame an eldritch horror like the Bird of Hermes. Whatever the bird sees in this one Integra Hellsing it has formed a bond that cannot be truly explained.....perhaps it is not as simple as a monster recognizing her as a strong human being? Perhaps....he sees her as a similar breed of monster?

09 - THE HERMIT There are those that work alone and then there's the self proclaimed "Terror that Flaps in the Night". So intent on doing things his way, so hellbent on getting all the glory, so desperate to prove himself to the world that the very idea of getting help from others ruffles his feathers. Of course he is not above having a sidekick but that is more someone doing things his way and not stealing his spotlight...

10 - THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE Many are at the mercy of fate, but none are quite as vulnerable to it as Matoi Ryuko. Her luck flip flops between good and bad so often that it's hard to tell if fate favors her or is out to get her. Sometimes it feels like she loses more than she wins. Not helping matters is how she is at the forefront of destiny, one of the few among the many that are the most important players for what destiny has in store. Lucky her.... 

11 - JUSTICE Diana of Themyscira doesn't just embody truth, she is the Spirit of Truth. Thus is her mission, to bring truth to the world of man, to be a guiding light towards peace and prosperity......a task that becomes increasingly difficult and nigh impossible with each passing year. Luckily, no task is too daunting for an Amazon, and no matter how long it takes she will bring man to a better place than it is right now... 

12 - THE HANGED MAN Kurosaki Ichigo is not the hero he should be, no, he is more of a plot device. A pawn used by both ally and enemy, not allowed to have any real agency of his own. A slave of fate caught in the same loop of trying to be a hero, fail miserably, go through "training" to receive new strength, fail again, deus ex machina just giving him the win. It's like whatever god is willing the stars of his universe is an incompetent who has no real concept of how the hero's journey is suppose to go. And what other choice does he have but to surrender to the cycle? His constant self sacrificing is what keeps the world spinning. And of nothing else at least he gets to keep becoming a better Ichigo than he was before right? Right?  

13 - DEATH Optimus Prime is well acquainted with the concept of change, is it after all hard wired into his very race's biology. But more than that, his years in perpetual war have shown him plenty endings and new beginnings, perhaps more of the former than the latter. And so long as he lives he will always be in the very company of death itself, looming over him, his allies and his enemies. Such is the nature of war.

14 - TEMPERANCE How long has Kiryuin Satsuki waited until she could finally be free of her vile mother? How much longer would she have waited to finally avenge her father? She waited years of her life for one moment to finally drive her blade through that vile woman, she didn't care if she succeeded or failed she has waiting for that moment long enough. And it seems that though her attempt did fail, that evil woman met her just deserts regardless, in the end fate still saw fit to reward Satsuki's patience.

15 - THE DEVIL Thanos is a very sick man. He is driven by his obsessions and desires, trying to hand wave it as "inevitability" or "higher purpose" when really it is but his own selfishness running rampant. And in his delusion he insists that the greater universe abides by his desire, worse even share in it. No matter how much he tries to change or has seemingly learned his lesson, he'll relapse in no time at all, going right back to his genocidal addiction. He truly is a lost cause....

16 - THE TOWER Uchiha Sasuke acts like he's the only one suffering, that his pain is more important than everyone else's. As such he pays no heed to that which he ruins or those that he hurts. Everything he touches, he destroys. Enemies, allies, friends, it matters not so long as he can get what he wants....which is constantly switching out. One minute he wants to get revenge on his brother, the next he wants to avenge him, and then he wants to be the one Hokage to "break the cycle of war". Whatever, he's always spin doctoring the horrible things he does to have some "deeper meaning" like he were a far right politician rewriting the bible. One has to wonder if he truly wants to use the darkness to bring about "positive change", if you ask me, he merely loves causing misery.

17 - THE STAR Sometimes it's easy to lose hope, just ask Peter Parker. Too many times it feels like no matter how hard he tries, even with spider powers his best is just not good enough. Most seem to believe so, most see him more as a menace doing more harm than good, especially Jameson. It's easy to forget what one is fighting for.....but then in his most dire moments, he can hear Uncle Ben's voice in his head telling him to not give up. Telling him about the few that do look upon the friendly neighborhood Spider Man as a symbol of hope, a star to look towards even when all other lights dim. And like that his strength returns to him, like that he gets back up and keeps fighting.

18 - THE MOON Ryoko Hakubi is both beauty and beast in one being. Not only does her power inspire fear, so too does her temperament whenever her pin is pulled. And even aside from that, she is one mystery after another, never will you truly understand how her mind or heart works. And not helping matters is her fluctuating moral compass that is comparable to mood swings. You'd have better luck figuring out women that you'd have trying to figure her out.

19 - THE SUN It's hard not to see that giant burning ball of gas as but a blight, a bleak reminder of the inevitable. But for the Last Son of Krypton, it is the source of his power. His true power, the power known as the best in humanity. That big Red S that shines like that very star inspires all to be the best they can be, igniting hearts with the strength to stand tall and proud even if they are not the strongest. Even if not everyone can be like Superman, anyone can be that which lights the darkness, anyone can be a hero.

20 - JUDGEMENT To become a Power Ranger is to be reborn into something beyond a mere human. To be infused with power for the sole purpose of answering the call to arms. Only a select few ever get to wear this mantle, and those that do must take up the fight against pure evil to their dying breath if necessary. As such the quality to become a Ranger is the resolve to always stand, to always get back up and never stop fighting. To be a Ranger is to be the one that has the resolve to fight the most important battle.

21 - THE WORLD So few can truly say they beat the Devil and got their soul back, but Albert Simmons is one such person. Perhaps it did not bring him the closure he was hoping for but it did bring him closure none the less. When he remembered the truth of his relationship with Wanda, remembered why exactly he was never allowed to have her back, he was finally able to let go and move on...

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Hi ok so if ur still accepting the brainworms, here is a little Eivor idea i have been toying with? Its a really loose sort of idea, and i havent written reader inserts before, but i wanted to share it!! Sorry if this is a lot

So okay so

Being a nobleman/King/earl's youngest daughter, sent to live in Ravensthorpe as like, collateral, as part of a treaty between ur father and the Raven Clan (like a "we'll just hold onto one of your kids so you don't fuck us over" situation, idk this part is LESS important than the gay stuff)

And as you live there and become part of the community Eivor takes you under her wing, trains you to fight, and you give her information about neighboring kingdoms/Shires for raiding, etc etc and of COURSE you fall in love (because that's what we are all here for, falling in love with Eivor), and over time the two of you are just a power couple running Ravensthorpe?? You are thriving And Eivor adores you, u are her Princess (and I definitely don't like awake at night thinking about Eivor calling me Princess. I don't do that at all,,,,,)

And bc I love drama, I think some ratty little dude from another shire reaches out to your father for your hand in marriage, shows up in Ravensthorpe to whisk you away only to be confronted with the Beefiest Norsewoman Ever on your arm, and he starts running his mouth

And then Eivor. Beats the shit out of him? Because I'm gay, and I love watching that woman pummel dudes into the ground

Thats all I have so far, but I can and will go deeper and more detailed on this little idea if wanted

Always welcoming brainworms. Perpetual state of brainworm acceptance. Please give me the worms 🧠🪱🧎

I'm vibing with the collateral lore, specifically because it makes the ensuing build-up to the inevitable falling-in-love even gayer. The whole "we'll hold onto your princess so you honour your bargain" political manoeuvre has an unspoken contract. It's technically a hostage situation, pulled with the intent of holding leverage over someone, and...oh, no, the most respected warrior in our settlement is teaching the hostage to defend themself. And now the hostage is...offering tactical guidance that will boost our economy, possibly to the detriment of theirs. They also have an axe now. Motive unclear, but homoerotic.

Rat bastard's deployment is a plot to skew this arrangement in favour of your kingdom; your kingdom laid siege to a fortress, only to find it barren of loot with evidence of the Raven Clan's visitation. Clearly, your father thinks, the clan had blackmailed or tortured some information out of you, and a marriage would see your undisputed safe passage out of Ravensthorpe (fine print?). Rat bastard offered the highest dowry.

Your peaceful afternoon in the sun, draped across Eivor's lap while she feeds you slices of apple, is rudely interrupted by Rat bastard (RB hereon out) making his gaudy introduction. You can see Alvis a short distance behind, clearly biting back laughter. Eivor's grip on the knife shifts as RB states his purpose in a monologue littered with objectifying remarks aimed at you, o the children you'll bear him (grim), the money and land he offered for your hand - flattering stuff.

That's what pushes her over the edge. A princess as lovely as yourself is bound to attract suitors. Ordinarily, she'd grit her teeth through it. But RB thought you a trinket to be possessed and used, and your father was willing to throw you to highest bidder. Eivor is having none of it.

Relief flickers over his face as Eivor sets down the knife, but panic returns tenfold as she rises to her full height and rolls her shoulders. "Where is it you hail from again?" she asks with a voice of steel.

RB, bricking it, meagrely clears his throat and answers. Nowhere important, certainly not amongst the allies of the Raven Clan. Eivor therefore has no reservations about sending him packing with a few less teeth, a couple of broken bones, shakily clutching a piece of parchment detailing a change in contract regarding a certain princess. By the time your father reads the draft, you and Eivor are already wed.

I'm dying to read any other ideas you have on this or how it continued in your head! I love how your brain works. :)

princess in her voice hhhhhhhhhh PLEASE

[ranger-rai]

My partner Pokémon is a Houndour. Is that thing about the paint from a Houndoom’s burn actually true?

Haha, oh, those old Pokedex entries.

I've said it a few times, but the Pokedex is basically a toy for children, written by children.

You need to take a lot of the dex entries at a very surface level.

Most of the entries were made by kids or very outdated research, and there has been efforts to update them more accurately, however there's an idea to keep a lot of "wonderment" in the pokedex.

There are plenty of groups who have made Pokedex apps and updates to the dex so people will be getting accurate information.

Houndoom does have really powerful flames, but you're not gonna "feel your soul burning"

Now, getting burned by anything will hurt, but talk like what is in the pokedex is what perpetuates harmful stereotypes of pokemon that are perfectly wonderful partners.

Houndoom CAN be aggressive, but then again, any pokemon could be. They are also incredibly loyal and determined, which is why I highly recommend them as partners.

I do indeed have a Partner Houndoom named Pyre who ended up coming to me through interesting circumstances thanks to @professor-fanalia and her awesome rehabilitation center.

You should take some time to learn more about and be around pokemon that are misunderstood. It will really change the way you look at things.