#Housekeeping Training Center

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 4

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three.

Four. 四

While Donaka Mark touched himself, you sat up in your bed and scribbled furiously in your journal, trying to exorcize him from your mind, trying to alleviate this weight from your skin. You write about what happened in the garden–and then you write about what might have happened, if you actually had a spine, and no sense of self preservation, and didn't prefer your risks to solely play out on a page. 

For lack of a better word, what you put down in your journal is pure filth, and you know when the first rays of morning shine through your window you should tear out those pages, destroy them, ensure no one else ever puts eyes on the raunchy ruminations of your feral pen. 

But…you don’t.

You keep them, hiding your little notebook in your underwear drawer. Who would ever find them there? Who would even be interested? 

Donaka should be focusing his energies on cultivating his next new champion, but instead, he cannot stop thinking about you. 

Your innocent defiance, your bravery in the face of such a terrible monster. He has no delusions about what he is. He can’t tell if you do. All your talk of misunderstood creatures–he thinks that maybe you’re not as innocent as you seem. That maybe, you have a dark and fearless side just waiting to be brought out, something deep inside you–something only he could mine from you. He will have it. He will work you over your fear of him, until you gladly surrender. He will not rest until you are his, body and soul. Maybe he employs you, but he wants to own you.

And Donaka Mark always gets what he wants.

***

A week later, you are cleaning the hallway when you spy Donaka training with another martial artist in the gym. He is mesmerizing, deadly and powerful. The fight that ensues–and the temple-like setting of his training area–are both like something out of a level of Mortal Kombat. When he takes his opponent down with a loud kiai–you can't help but half jump out of your skin, gripping your broom. When he lifts his gaze to find you there gawking at him, you know you are caught out.

He feels a flash of pleasure at the way you gasp and jump at the sound–he feels it more than hears it. He is attuned to you, he knows where you are at all times. Not just because he is constantly watching you on his cameras–he feels you, when he concentrates and closes his eyes. 

You are his.  He doesn’t really take his gaze off you as he stands up and briefly bows to his training partner. He can see how you are clearly preparing to run, and he doesn’t want you to get away just yet. He crooks his finger at you as his partner packs up his things to go, and you really have no choice but to go to him on the mat. His eyes rake over you as you join him. Maybe you’re looking at him the same way, as he dries the sweat from his glistening skin with a towel, his muscles flexing. 

Would it kill him to train with a shirt on?

You feel like this is a trap he constructed–you’re not wrong. 

“Almost done,” he says, letting you know you can clean up the mats soon.

"Yes, Sir." Finally you have the grace to avert your eyes, and not ogle this beautiful man. You notice he has a long, thick scar right down the center of his abdomen, and you wonder what happened to him. You tear your eyes away, before you can follow that line down further, the dark tuft of hair peeking out of his pants that practically invites you to indulge in yet more dirty thoughts about this man.

He smirks down at you, savoring your obeisance. 

“Ever tried martial arts?”

You are so not telling him about your childhood dabbles, after watching his brutal and precise practice. Instead you lean on your broom, relaxing slightly. “I clearly have a black belt in Tae Sweep Kun Do.” 

He snorts in answer. “Very funny. But martial arts are not a joke. The way of the warrior is a serious pursuit.” 

“I mean…” You cannot help your insouciant smile now. “Jackie Chan movies are pretty funny. Rush Hour? Timeless classic.”

Maybe if you annoy this man enough, he will give up on torturing you with the sight of his utterly biteable pecs. Almost as though he senses what you’re doing, his focus just intensifies on you, that knowing smirk in place. 

He takes another step closer to you, standing so that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to.

“I could teach you,” he offers, “If you ever decide to take it seriously.”

The thought of him manhandling you under the pretense of teaching you floods your body with an annoying wave of desire, your grip tightening on your broom. You avert your eyes, certain he sees it all. 

“Thanks, but…when would I ever need to hit someone? All I'd have to do is tell them I work for Donaka Mark...they'd probably shit themselves and run away." 

Donaka lets out a short bark of laughter at this unexpected answer, amused by your response. 

He takes a step closer to you, commanding your gaze with a single finger under your chin, craning your neck to an almost uncomfortable angle. That single, possessive touch lights you on fire. “Such a filthy mouth on such a pretty girl,” he teases darkly.

"Sorry, Sir," you apologize quietly, your throat full of sand. You feel him tense to move, maybe to near closer, or touch you more, and you panic. “I’ll be back soon to clean up in here," you say, backing away and fleeing to your next task. 

Which includes hiding in the servants quarters for a little bit to catch your breath, your body crawling with need from that one. Little. Touch. You know you’ll be writing a lot in your junk journal that night to get it out of your system. Desire will eat at you all day, you’re certain, like some kind of parasite robbing you of your sanity. It isn’t pleasant, this thing you feel for Donaka Mark. It’s uncomfortable, and dangerous, and you wish you knew how to cut it out of you.

He’d watched you go with equal parts satisfaction and frustration for flustering you–usually he revels in a long game of corruption, but more and more lately he just wants you in his hands, and you keep running away from him. You are trying his patience, with your bad jokes and your big eyes looking at him. 

Soon, he is going to shut you up with his cock stuffed inside you, and his mouth on yours. You don’t know it yet, but you’re even going to beg for it. He always gets his way.

Later, he will watch you scribbling in your journal, curled up in your skimpy pajamas on your tiny bed, from a hidden camera placed in your room. You’ve become his favorite late night show. He wonders what makes your hand move so furiously across the page, and sometimes between your legs. Is it him? He hates it that you have a secret he’s not privy to–yet. He gives zero thought to this violation of your privacy. You live in his house. 

You belong to him.

chapter map

[towards-toramunda]

Ashton Greymoore is from Crown Heights and works in a neighborhood deli and he makes the best chopped cheese New York City has ever seen and gets paid $18 an hour so you better fucking tip

Orym is from a small town in northern Vermont that voted 97% Bernie Sanders and he is rarely seen without the green thick flannel that he got from his stepdad before he passed. He helps run a martial training summer camp, but works at a grocery store most of the time.

Laudna is big in the Portland goth scene because she works at a taxidermy shop where people bring her their beloved dearly departed pets and she brings them back to life as statues.

Imogen lives in Tennessee and works at a horse ranch that rents out for kids birthday parties. She has a therapist that she goes to twice a week and she takes at least five different medications for her mental health.

Chetney is from northern Wisconsin where he lives in a cabin by himself and crafts the most gorgeous wooden furniture and statues. He thinks its funny when people complain about deep snow during the winter. He goes ice fishing and wears T-shirts with wolves howling at the moon.

FCG is from Huntsville Alabama where they used to work at the Space and Rocket center, but he recently discovered Christ and he’s really into it. They’ve never touched a bible but really likes the concept of being Christian so he figures its good.

Fearne was born and raised in Los Angeles to a wealthy and famous celebrity couple who left her with their housekeeper most of the time. She likes to garden and has a weird fascination with fire. She’s a nepo baby so shes never worked a day in her life and doesn’t know what “clopening” means.

[jenthebug]

Back to my original dangerous colors!

As soon as I get home, I’ve been shedding my uniform and returning to my true form as a pajama goblin.

Today was CPR class (again, I’ve taken it many times). This iteration was good. Then we went to the dispatch center, got our training syllabus, and took care of a few housekeeping things (schedules, time clock, logins, etc).

When I start on the job training, I’ll probably be on deep nights. Pros: 🤑 and I can take Jay to and from school. Cons: I am a diurnal human.

When I get a full time shift, it’ll probably be a day shift. Pros: I know and like the day lieutenants, I am a diurnal human. Cons: No shift differential, it’ll be hard to get Jay to and from school.

Anyway, after schedule happy fun time, it was time for online training modules, the ones that come with every job. Rival just took the tests over and over until he passed. I actually did the trainings, because I didn’t want Trainer to see me cutting corners.

Now I am dead and writing this from beyond the grave lol I am so tired

[lucky-bishova-42]

Kate Headcannons

(in the Malen’kiy Yastreb universe)

TW: allusions to child abuse

Kate and Eleanor were never close. They never really bonded, even before Derek Bishop passed away; things turned ugly two months after he passed. Eleanor blamed Kate for his death and basically forced Kate to become her housekeeper to make up for it: doing all the cleaning, the laundry, making meals, etc.

Kate still feels obligated to clean the apartment when Natasha and Wanda are working long days, despite being told multiple times that she doesn’t need to

Kate has ADHD

Even though Natasha and Wanda are together, Kate was a little nervous about admitting to them she had a crush on America because Eleanor almost kicked her out when Kate told her she was a lesbian

Kate’s favorite days are spent snuggled between Natasha and Wanda just relaxing

There is still a lot about Kate’s past (specifically with Eleanor) that she hasn’t told Natasha about, and she isn’t quite ready to yet

Kate starts looking for engagement rings, for Natasha to give to Wanda, three months after they started dating; she really does hope they thank her in their wedding vows

She still flinches sometimes when she is overwhelmed and overstimulated and Natasha or Wanda moves too fast, her subconscious still not getting the fact that she is truly safe with them

Kate had been calling Natasha ‘mama’ in her head since around Mother’s Day before she started calling her that all the time (she doesn’t remember calling her that when she was sick)

Kate likes to quietly read with Wanda in her favorite spot under the big oak tree on days were she feels too overwhelmed

On really bad days, Kate likes to rest her head on Natasha’s chest so she can hear her heartbeat

Kate is, and will always be, a cuddler

Dr. Cho believes Kate is slightly touch deprived given the way her and Eleanor were never close

No matter how bad Kate is panicking, Natasha’s calm voice, soft touch, and steady heartbeat always help start to calm her down

Natasha trains Kate in self defense in between archery seasons

Natasha, despite being very encouraging, is dreading the day Kate fully takes on the Hawkeye mantle

Natasha basically ‘adopted’ Kate after she met Eleanor for the first time and could see something was wrong

Kate is currently teaching herself Russian, but isn’t telling Wanda or Natasha as a surprise

Sometimes Wanda has to remind herself that Kate and Natasha are not biologically related when Kate makes Natasha’s signature face or says something in an eerily similar way to how Natasha does

There are probably more I am forgetting but these are them for now :) (these were mostly kate, nat, and wanda centered but what else is new lol)

[kaijunouhhhhhhhhhhummmm]

ramble: soshiro centered/ family drama/ hoshina estate 🏯

you’re in the third division of the defense force and on one fine day you, along with your ass kicking colleagues are given vacation time. you all cheer and can’t wait to get some much needed relaxation. but are amiss at what to do. some decide to go visit home, this leads Iharu to say;

‘you know who’s got some sweet digs? the vice captain.’

‘those are just rumors right?’ kafka chimes in. ‘Kikoru probably has a huge mansion!’

‘not really’ she says

‘i did hear his family has a huge inherited compound.’ says reno

‘they were legends! i mean still are for sure.’ iharu says

days go by and word gets to soshiro that everyone wants to know just what his childhood home looks like. and in a moment of shock to everyone he says ‘you all wanna see for yourselves?’ everyone is speechless. the vice captain is usually not one willing to let anyone into any personal part of his life. very uncharacteristic of him. everyone is enthusiastic about going of course. there is however a sort of silence surrounding soshiro as the days continue. he gives some details about his home but answers most questions with a version of ‘you’ll see for yourself’

shortly thereafter you’re all on a plane, a train and a bus to the hoshina compound. ‘look up.’ he says as the bus climes higher and higher up a winding road on a mountain side. you all do, rushing and shoving to one side of the bus. ‘no way’ ‘shit!’ ‘okay yeah i would’ve seen that from the bottom of the mountain’. everyone is aghast. the roof of a towering building appears over high walls.

you arrive at the main entrance gate followed by almost a hundred steps leading farther up. it appears more like a shrine than a home. hoshina tribe keeps its ancestors close. you all loathe climbing the steps with your luggage but can’t wait to get to the top. the climb is worth the reward. it’s large enough for soshiro to call parts of it the north, south, east and west wings. there is the main house and open walkways leading to the rest. you can’t see most of it from where you stand but it spans wider than you can make out anyways. there are apparently four gardens, three training areas, a hot spring farther out and deeper into the woods a trail leading to a forge.

his father greets everyone. he seems happy and relived to see his son again. soshiros expression is unmoving but he keeps his place as a respectful son. there’s a shift in how soshiro is seen by all in this moment. bowing deeply to his father. everyone does the same in thanks. captain ashiro was mindful to bring a gift. his father welcomes everyone and has a housekeeper show all of you to where you’ll be staying.

the stay is for the week and is mostly touring the land. beautiful forests, relaxing in the hot spring or even training for those that don’t want to fall off entirely. the compound is excellent for just that. you all hardly see soshiro. he joins the group on occasion but for the most part is off somewhere in estate. you all figure he’s got a lot of family affairs to attend to. when he is with you all he seems like he’s thinking about elsewhere. asks if everyone is comfortable, enjoying themselves, having fun but doesn’t seem to listen intently to the answer. you worry. somethings been off since he invited everyone.

‘yeah i don’t know how to feel about it. i was so excited about seeing the place i didn’t think too hard about why.’ kafka says when you mention it.

‘he doesn’t have the best relationship with his fam so i thought i was having a stroke when he asked if we wanted to come along’ iharu says. you are all in one of the gardens admiring the statues of defeated kaiju and their victorious warriors.

‘i’m sure he has his reasons. cmon we’ll be hiking a bit more today’ says mina. everyone acknowledges out of respect for her vice captain the conversation must end.

it’s the second to last day and kafka wants to get everyone together for a game and asks where soshiro is. you say you’ll look for him. you leave the play room out the sliding doors and walk in a general direction occasionally bowing to the housekeepers. there aren’t many. and as expansive as the compound is it doesn’t have quite enough help. you notice parts of it look worn down and unused. it’s still beautiful but nature has taken advantage of the areas that have long been left unattended to. wood splintering, moss growing on stilts and wood boards, climbing plants growing over walls and roofs, grasses and flowers between the gaps on the outdoor tile.

you hear voices and decide to turn in that direction. the voices grow louder not with proximity but in volume. you’re too close now. surely whoever is nearly yelling will hear your steps. you can hardly make out what’s being said but you freeze up at hearing soshiros voice rise in frustration. you’ve walked in on a very personal moment and want to leave but don’t know how to.

‘why did you come if not for that?’ you jump at the clear exclamation.

silence follows. your heart is pounding.

‘i was hoping-‘ you recognize soshiros voice. he cuts himself off.

you feel a tap on your shoulder. it makes you jump but the housekeeper that guided you to your rooms when you first arrived puts a finger up to her mouth signaling you to stay silent. she has a soft smile. her expression understanding what you heard but without a word asking you to be mindful. she gently reaches out for your hand and guides you away. her trained footsteps hardly make a sound. you turn back to the room you heard the argument from. you don’t hear yelling anymore.

she guides you to a small kitchen and gives you a tray of snacks. ‘here’ she says ‘for you and your friends’ you follow her silently to the game room. what you both heard hanging in the air. everyone is grateful for the food and you tell them you couldn’t find soshiro. you turn to the housekeeper and she bows before shutting the door and leaving.

the next day is much of the same. tomorrow morning you will all leave. you are on your way down stone steps to a wildflower garden when you see soshiro approaching.

‘vice captain. it’s good to see you’ you say. better to not mention what you heard.

he smiles. if you didn’t know any better you’d have no idea he just argued with his father yesterday. ‘hey there. i’ll be joining you all today. have you liked everything so far?’

youre response is cut off by a greeting ‘soshiro!’ you both turn to see soichiro approaching. you sense once again this is not your place. you’re about to say you’ll see him down in the garden but when you see his face you freeze. once again your stopped in place. his face is stone. his eyes are sharp and focused on his approaching sibling.

‘i didn’t know you’d be coming out. dad says you’ve been here for a week now with your division. hey there i’m soichiro nice to meet you!’ he greets you. you both bow.

‘you as well. you have a beautiful home.’ you say meaning it. again you turn to soshiro but his face hasn’t changed. ‘well then i’ll be going.’ you make your exit swift. as you pace down the steps you hear pieces of what would be a bad excuse for a conversation. soichiro asks questions. soshiro answers in curt one word responses. you realize he did not bow to his older brother.

their conversation must’ve not been very long because he’s joined your group not five minutes after you walk away. reno and kafka are now in flower crowns and iharu is impatiently waiting for his from mina. you’re trying to make your own. soshiro greets everyone and your amazed at how different he is now. his glare was as cold as steel towards his brother but here he’s warm and as witty as ever. you all decide to stay out for the afternoon and into the evening.

dinner is brought to you all and you have a picnic as twilight comes. you feel stuck about what happened yesterday and not to long ago. you’re not sure what to do but decide not saying anything is definitely not what you want to do.

you walk up to where he is, observing everyone from a little distance. ‘here’ you say handing soshiro a flower. ‘i want to apologize.’ he looks at you confused. ‘yesterday. i heard you and your father, well, i shouldn’t have-‘

you’re cut off by a chuckle ‘ ah that was you.’ a bitterness in his tone. ‘i’m sorry you heard that. and for earlier as well. i meant to say something but…’

‘don’t apologize to me. it’s none of my business but i felt bad about it happening. to you i mean. fuck, i mean you don’t need my pity. not that that’s what i’m trying to say! it’s just i know it really sucks when you argue with your family so i wanted to do something so please accept this flower.’ god you’re embarrassed. what the hell was that? you two hardly speak and now here you are stammering the most you’ve ever said at once to him.

a smile grows on his face as he looks at you then the flower, then back at you again. he reaches out and takes the flower. ‘thank you.’ he looks at you in the eyes with such sincerity you can’t respond. you nod. a moment of silence passes and you’re distracted by reno and kafka wrestling in the field. possibly being refereed by kikoru. mina hides her face from laughing. you both laugh too.

‘i didn’t want to do this by myself.’ he cuts the silence between the two of you. you turn to him. a content expression on his face. ‘i knew it wouldn’t be easy returning after so long. but i’m not the same boy i was when i left.’ he turns to you ‘i’m stronger now thanks to all of you.’

suddenly it’s hard to look him in the eyes, suddenly you palms start to sweat. your heart races. the last lingering sunlight on his face is so bright. you know what this feeling is and you want to kick your own ass for feeling it for your superior. ‘we can say the same about you.’

[kattahj]

My Agatha Christie Re-Reading Project, #49: 4.50 from Paddington

Full disclosure: I actually re-read this back in spring, but never got around to writing a review, and then I stalled on Ordeal by Innocence and got swamped by other things and... well. Here we are, half a year later.

It's not because I don't like this book, either. On the contrary, it's one of my favourites, largely due to the presence of Lucy Eylesbarrow. Out of all of Christie's one-book heroines, she's probably my favourite (though Frankie Derwent is a strong contender).

Lucy's of course a bit too good to be true. She's such an efficient housekeeper families fall over themselves to employ her, she's a gifted mathematician, and she charms every man in the house – but she also charms the reader so thoroughly that you accept it all.

Well. I'm not entirely sure that housekeepers made more money than mathematicians even in Christie's time, but I take it as Christie's continued grumping that help is too expensive and hard to get. :-)

The rest of the cast are Christie's standard well-off and quarrelsome family. Perhaps the closest comparison is Hercule Poirot's Christmas, and I would say on the whole, 4.50 does a bit better with similar character types. It's fun to see them interact, and the two men who are the most romantically interested in Lucy are both rather appealing in different way. (The book is never clear on who she chooses, though TV's Marple went with the – also possible and quite appealing – third option.)

As for Miss Marple herself, she takes a bit of a backseat role in this one, but as always, she's a delight when she appears.

But of course, the center of any Christie (under that name) is the mystery. The concept of the murder seen on a passing train is inventive and engaging, and Mrs. McGillicuddy makes for a fun POV character for that bit. The story as it progresses works pretty well too, but it should be noted that this book is pretty light on clues. All About Agatha claimed there were hardly any, but I don't think that's quite true. They're just hard to pick up on, and even a seasoned Christie probably won't figure this one out on the first try.

Still, consider the following:

Who is a suspect?

Who is not treated as a suspect, but is also heavily involved in the case and has a potential opportunity to commit the murder?

What is actually going on, rather than what seems like it should be going on?

Is there anything that's treated as fact even though only one person said it?

How are the following murders committed? Who would have the opportunity?

And a bit of a spoiler: What is the significance of Anna Stravinska's old colleague mentioning that she claimed to be married to an Englishman?

That gives you a sporting chance, though by no means any guarantees!

So on the whole (and admitting that I'm rating with a fair bit of nostalgia), my verdict is 4/5.

[astralbulldragon13]

My Most Detailed Character Profile:

The Intern from New Jersey Rats!!

Name: Skyla Ghost Bear

She/They pronouns

Black hair, blue eyes

She’s Irish/Lakota Sioux

Stands at 5 foot, 9 inches

She never met her father, he was a foreign exchange student at a local college who met her mom at a party.

Her mother wasn’t a very constant presence, having multiple boyfriends and using drugs.

Has an older half-brother, who is three years older, plus two half-younger sisters.

Their neighborhood is riddled with crime and gang violence, so she knows how best to get away from danger.

Grew up in a trailer park in western South Dakota.

Skyla’s best memories are from when she would visit her grandpa, and they would watch movies like ‘The Godfather’, and that is what made her so enamored with the mob.

She loved how it was so centered around family, and wanted to feel something like that.

The only people who encouraged her were her older siblings and her grandpa.

Was very good school, and had good grades, not that it impressed her mom, or her mom’s various boyfriends.

She got a job at 15, working at a hotel as a housekeeper, but then, started helping with the books. She got more pay for doing that.

At 16, Skyla was kicked out of the house by her mom, so she went to live with her grandpa to finish high school, as her brother had left for basic Army training after he graduated.

“Don’t become what they tried to make you. Be better than them, and most importantly, don’t be afraid.”- last thing their brother said before he went to join the army

Grandfathered died shortly after she graduated high school, so took a gap year before going to New Jersey for college.

Can speak three languages: English (fluently), French (conversationally), and Lakota (fluently)

She sometimes mutters to herself in Lakota and the boys don’t really asked what language that is (full on Lakota Code Talker here)

Always wears outfits that range from business-casual to business-professional. Really likes nice outfits, nice shoes, their sister taught her to use makeup and do their hair.

Early on in the internship, after the Pokémon Cards incident, she started to call Jean ‘Unchi-Ka’ (Pronounced OON-shih-kah, I don’t think there’s a setting for Lakota on Tumblr so I’m spelling it phonetically)

It means ‘Pitiful.’

“Come on, Unchi-Ka, we’ve got another hour to get this done.”

As they grow closer with Jean, she shortens it to ‘Unch’ (Pronounced OON-sh) which still means ‘Pitiful’ but in a more affectionate manner.

“Hey, Unch, let’s go get a coffee.”

Likes to laugh at people who get dream-catcher tattoos.

Was still able to graduate school, just had to do it online.

Is mildly lactose intolerant but would die for chocolate.

[joy-glory-and-foster]

(Pokemon IRL blog run by @theangstking

magic anons - off

Pelipper Mail - on)

hello!

we are the staff of one of the many Pokemon Centers in the Surroh region! specifically, we run the Center in Guajava City.

the Surroh region tends to run our Pokemon Centers a little differently than most other regions, however our Center is one of the few with as much staff as we have. as such, we decided to make this blog to talk about ourselves and our work!

I'm Foster! I use he/him pronouns. my main Pokemon partners are my two Indeedee, my Vaporeon, Jolteon, and Flareon, and my Eevee!

my name is Glory! I use they/them pronouns. my partners are my Audino, Espeon, Umbreon, Ditto, Musharna, and my own Eevee!

and of course, there's the classic Nurse Joy, that's me! she/her pronouns! my team consists of my Blissey and Chansey, Sylveon, Glaceon, Leafeon, and my Eevee as well!

all three of us are adults, and have been through college and proper nursing training!

housekeeping and more info below the cut!

Foster's Pokemon:

Indeedee - Doe - female - Gentle - psychic/normal - Own Tempo

Indeedee - Buck - male - Calm - psychic/normal - Inner Focus

Vaporeon - Dew - male - Bashful - water - Water Absorb

Jolteon - Thunder - male - Hardy - electric - Volt Absorb

Flareon - Smoke - male - Serious - fire - Guts

Eevee - Dusty - male - Quirky - normal - Adaptability

Glory's Pokemon:

Audino - Venus - female - Brave - normal - Healer

Espeon - Apollo - male - Sassy - psychic - Magic Bounce

Umbreon - Artemis - Serious - female - dark - Inner Focus

Ditto - Pluto - genderless - Jolly - normal - Limber

Musharna - Halo - female - Quiet - psychic - Forewarn

Eevee - Eos - male - Jolly - normal - Anticipation

Joy's Pokemon:

Blissey - Ambrosia - female - Calm - normal - Serene Grace

Chansey - Muffin - female - Modest - normal - Natural Cure

Sylveon - Jellybean - male - Relaxed - fairy - Cute Charm

Glaceon - Meringue - male - Mild - ice - Ice Body

Leafeon - Cookie - male - Adamant - grass - Leaf Guard

Eevee - Biscuit - female - Timid - normal - Run Away

TAGS :

foster - posts involving Foster speaking

glory - posts involving Glory speaking

joy - posts involving Joy speaking

center shenanigans - events that have happened directly in the Center

center info - posts that apply to information about either Pokemon Centers in general, or Surron Pokemon Centers specifically

asks and submissions - asks and submissions

ask game - ask games and related (for ask games, please specify which of the three of us you're directing it at!)

reblogs - reblogs!

((oocmun - admin posts!))

(more to be added as things are fleshed out)

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

My Dearest Duch,

I come with the most splendid news. After some thinking, I have decided to spend holiday in Tokyo next week and will be paying you a visit. How marvellous! I know it’s been a while, so why don’t we catch up over a nice cup of tea. I’ll write later in lieu of my arrival. Keep the kettle on for me.

Till then, Butch (C.T.) XoXoX

Hannah’s eyes hungrily re-read the letter for the fourth consecutive time at breakfast. The parchment was dated three days ago, but she wondered whether there was a mistake. It had been almost two years since they last spoke with each other. Why on God’s green earth would Cressida want to see her? Here, in Japan of all places? Hannah was flummoxed. Her whole life she had been tossed around Europe like a crumpled brown paper parcel, constantly hopping from one dilapidated convent to the next, hidden away from the world, and not once had her cousin come to visit her, much less pick up a pen and write a letter, but there it was. In her hand. ‘Duch’ and ‘Butch.’ Blimey, those were names she hadn’t heard in ages.

“Are you feeling alright, ma’am?” Makoto said, genuine concern in her tone. “Is the food not to your liking?”

Hannah looked up at the housekeeper setting down a fresh pot of coffee and hurriedly folded up the letter, slipping it back inside its Graveur linen envelope, the two Thames sirens waxed in the center.

“Oh, no, not at all, Makoto-san,” Hannah said, a little startled. She gave the housekeeper a small smile. “The food is quite good. Delicious even. No need to make a fuss.”

“A fuss?” Satoru yawned, at last emerging from the hallway. “Better not be a fuss.”

Hannah watched the Six Eyes wielder stride into the parlor and kneel down at the low table, rubbing his tired eyelids. It was officially late June. Unlike most mornings when he came in wearing a plain tee and sweatpants, Satoru had chosen instead to wear a loose fitting, dark ebony yukata, a matching obi tied around his waist. The weather bring hot, there was no nagajuban. The front showed off his bare neck and collarbone rather handsomely.

Then she saw his eyes land on the envelope.

“What’s that?”

Hannah grew tense.

“N-Nothing,” she lied, her eyes deflecting off his collarbone, and hid the opened parchment under the table on her lap (as though he couldn’t see). “Lady Inumaki has invited me over for lunch again. That’s all.”

Satoru let out a soft grunt, and began piling his bowl with rice and strips of raw tuna, dropping the topic. Makoto poured coffee into his mug. He took a bite of food and glanced timidly at his wife sitting across.

“So…How’d you sleep last night?”

Hannah met his gaze and quickly shied away.

“Fine,” she answered. “You?”

Satoru also looked down, shrugging.

“Fine.”

They were both liars. Truth was neither of them had gotten any sleep. Following the kiss, the train ride home had been excruciatingly awkward and their conversation brief. All they managed to get in wordwise was a quick “Goodnight” before dashing inside their respective rooms. The awkwardness had yet to settle, turning almost frigid. Like a giant wall of ice had been forcibly wedged between them, impossible to break. They were no better than strangers.

Their odd behavior made Makoto uneasy as she prepared breakfast, but the housekeeper hadn’t the slightest inclination what was going on. Her young master and mistress had been getting along so well lately. What could’ve caused such a disturbance?

Taking a couple bites of rice, Satoru fiddled with his plate and coughed into his fist.

“I’ve been assigned another mission.”

Hannah looked up. “Oh? Where to?”

“Okinawa. There’s been another curse sighting.” He said this with the least amount of enthusiasm. “My flight leaves this afternoon. I could be gone awhile, so you and Makoto will be in charge of things till I get back.”

Hannah bowed her head, looking at the table. “I see.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?”

She shrugged. “It’s no different from all the other times. Makoto and I will manage fine on our own.”

Satoru gave a nod. “I’ll have my cell. If you need me for any reason —”

“Don’t hesitate to call,” Hannah finished, having heard this speech a thousand times, but she struggled to hide her disappointment. “But do hurry back, please.”

Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aw, why so glum, Princess? I thought you’d be happy having the place to yourself again.”

Rather than laugh along with his joke, Hannah shook her head and went back to eating her meal.

“It isn’t the same without you here.”

There were a million and one ways to interpret that single sentence, but they weren’t going to discuss it then, choosing instead to finish their breakfast in relative, albeit less awkward, silence.

The kiss was not brought up.

With Satoru gone, Cressida arrived at the Gojo estate not two days later.

“Duch!” she cried gaily, rushing to take off her shoes after Hannah’s polite request (those heels would ruin the tatami). Elegant in an eau-de-nil Chanel suit and bowler hat, Cressida set down her bulky looking briefcase and purse, her many charm bracelets jangling like bells, and kissed her young cousin on both cheeks. “My, I guess what they say isn’t true. You really can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

The sorcerer's wife tried not to wince at the backhanded compliment and wished Satoru was there with her. While the rift between them had not abated, his presence would’ve been a great comfort because Cressida hadn’t changed one bit it seemed; posh, beautiful, and conceited as ever. Her ‘sow’s ear’ comment was in reference to the kimono. Hannah had chosen a tsumugi instead of a yukata. While the jacquarded silk wouldn’t keep her cool from the summer heat, it would, with any luck, leave an indelible impression on Cressida, who wasn’t shy about her love of expensive clothing. The kimono itself was light blue and covered head to toe in paisley motifs, while a black fukuro obi, filigreed with gold medallions and phoenixes, secured her waistline. The combination was pleasing, but more formal than necessary, yet somehow Hannah knew her cousin wouldn’t know enough about Japanese customs to call her out on it. As the cherry on top, Makoto suggested she wear a pair of dainty Georgian style earrings, plated in gold.

“Cressida,” Hannah greeted apprehensively, finding it strange she no longer had to curtsy when addressing her cousin. “I hope your flight wasn’t long.”

Lady Cressida shriveled her nose. “My flight was dreadful, thank you for asking. I tried convincing Papa I take another boat, but naturally he said no. Seems he has forgotten a Thames’ place is in the water, not the air.” Smoothing her skirt, she walked over to the Jakuchū painting of the Gojo family tree, looking interested, but was unable to read the gold kanji scrawled along the branches. She then turned around to look back at Hannah and clapped her hands together. “Anywho, show me around this charming little house of yours, Duch. I want the full royal tour.”

Hannah led Cressida through the many washi-paneled rooms and rush-covered hallways, giving more or less the same history lesson Makoto had given her when she first entered the ‘little’ samurai house. She showed her the kamidana room housing the bronzed Buddhist altar, the English dining room, the reception hall decorated with the tokonoma alcove and three katana swords whose hilts were carved of jade. However Cressida, like a military sergeant blessed with a watchmaker’s eye for detail, took her time inspecting Hannah’s closet, checking to see it ticked all the essential boxes. She went through each rack and drawer one by one, making selections, taking careful notes, before finishing her inspection with a curt, “Yes, I suppose these will do.”

The wardrobe having passed the test, the two women put their shoes back on and enjoyed a short promenade around the gardens, and as they walked, Cressida shared with Hannah her recent travels. She had sailed many oceans, yachting at Monaco then South Africa then finally Thailand, spending her year on a never-ending holiday, with exception to her recent flight to Japan. “I’m staying at the Seiyo Ginza,” she dolefully carried on. “Have you heard of it? I found their wine selections most superb.” Hannah said no, doubting the hotel Cressida was residing at was cheap. If it wasn’t £1,500 a night and over five stars, then her cousin wanted no part in it.

Makoto had tea and a light meal waiting for them in the reception hall. Kneeling at a low table, Hannah could better appreciate Cressida’s new haircut. Her once long raven locks had been shorn into a chic bob, the edges curling around her face, making her look like a 1920s flapper. The Chanel suit only enhanced the effect. “Oh, can’t tell you how relieved I was to chop it all off,” she delighted, looking through the end of a compact mirror as she reapplied her favorite red lipstick. Cressida had no qualms being fawned over and adored. “Always hated having long hair.” She smashed her lips together and placed the rouge back in her purse. “That bloody harp.”

Hannah visibly perked up. “You brought it with you?

Cressida closed the lid of her mirror in dramatic fashion and rolled her bewitching blue eyes. “Of course I brought it with me. I'm its keeper now, aren’t I?” She traded in her compact mirror for an enameled cigarette case. “By the way, do you mind if I have a light? I know the Japanese aren’t antagonistic towards smoking.”

With some reluctance, Hannah gave Cressida the go ahead to light her cigarette. The tobacco leaves were infused with cloves, emitting an incense-like aroma, snapping and crackling from the flame. Apparently they were a popular brand from Indonesia, but Hannah slid open a second partition wall in case the fragrance lingered. Makoto would have a fit.

“And Atticus?” she said upon sitting back down. “Have you heard from him at all?”

Cressida sighed insouciantly and took a generous drag. “Last I spoke with my brother, he was in Egypt. You remember that archeological dig they uncovered back in March, the one believing to be Queen Nefertiti’s lost tomb? Made international news?” She pointed her cigarette at Hannah. “That was Atticus. As you can imagine, Papa was quite pleased, but he’s never satisfied for long after a heist. Sent him to South America to begin scavenging the Pacific for shipwrecks. I assume that’s where he is now, but who knows. We don’t talk much these days.”

The Thames heiress reached for a lone plate and flicked her ashes on it, and Hannah saw one of the many charms on her bracelets, the initials V.A. dangling from a gold chain next to a lock and key. Sympathy welled within her. She said the next sentence aloud without thinking.

“I’m sorry about Vera.”

Cressida's body ceased all functionality, her complexion turning pale like a dead person’s.

The room became quiet, save for the ticking of the clock. Perhaps she’d been over analyzing, but Hannah swore she saw her cousin’s bottom lip quiver for a second, then stiffen in a hard line. Cressida knew how to keep her emotions in check, but those pained blue eyes staring back at her were the eyes of someone who had experienced an unbearable loss. Hannah regretted her words.

“Gosh, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No!” Cressida snapped out of her stupor and took her cousin’s hand. “Please, I want to talk about her…I…I don’t do it enough honestly.”

The story was a sad one. Lady Vera Avery was one of the sorcerers who died at the Louvre last October alongside Ivan Lebowitz. She was Lord Belgaven’s only daughter and Cressida’s best friend since childhood, however Hannah discovered the true nature of their relationship by accident, on the night of Cressida’s coming-out ball.

Wasserton, with its Roman colonnades and grand marble staircases, had been a product of the late 18th century sometime before the Napoleonic Era. Alexander Thames II had been the genius behind its construction, and being a brilliant architect, had incorporated a bevy of secret passageways and tunnels that connected possibly every room and cranny, including the servant’s bedroom Hannah resided during her visits. She had found the hidden door under the rug at six years old. Fast forward eight years later when Hannah was again staying at Wasserton - by then her third visit - she had used the same hidden door to sneak around the mansion and watch the opulent ball happening downstairs. Like Cinderella trapped in the cellar, she had not been allowed to attend.

High above where no one could see her, Hannah watched the opulent party from the air vents. She hummed dreamily to the music as lords and ladies waltzed and fox-trotted effortlessly around the ballroom, diamonds sparkling, flasks of champagne bubbling, laughter and merriment being had. There was an endless flow of conversation milling about which greatly excited Hannah. She paid rapturous attention to the young gentleman asking the young debutantes to dance and tried imagining a world where Elizabeth Thames had not lost her virtue to an unnamed man. Then perhaps a dashing young suitor would be asking her for a dance. Sadly, it was not to be.

At the stroke of midnight, Hannah made the lonely return to her room by candlelight but soon encountered a bump in the road. Apparently, she was not the only one scurrying around the walls like a mouse that night. Someone else was utilizing the tunnels too.

And it wasn’t merely to snoop.

Hannah would’ve avoided them if she could, but the two debs were blocking her way. Caught in a rush of passion, they had already stripped themselves of their gowns, white chiffon piled on the floor, tiaras slipping off, lips locked in a searing kiss, under the pretense they were alone. They were not.

Vera spotted Hannah first and froze like a deer in the headlights, parting quickly from her lover.

“What is it, love? What’s the matter?” Cressida turned around to see her cousin standing there, staring wide-eyed and .

The cat was officially out of the bag.

Like members of an exclusionary club, the British haut monde bestowed nicknames to each other, a simple way of indicating who was in and who was out. Few questioned why Cressida went by the name “Butch,” naively assuming it had something to do with her expertise sporting a hunter’s rifle, or her passion for equestrianism, or the cavalier way she held her cigarette, acting more tomboy than ‘posh girl.’ Lady Cressida Thames? A lesbian? Why, don’t be ridiculous. She didn’t fit the stereotype. Her raven black hair was far too long and lusciously curled. Her clothes, ultra feminine with nothing less than Parisian couture and three-inch heels, face dolled in a full head of makeup to accentuate her tempting blue eyes, which she used to flirt with the men almost as much as she did the women. Stunningly beautiful. This in mind, no one suspected Cressida’s sexuality to be anything other than straight. The nickname “Butch” was nothing more than a bit of harmless fun, an inside joke, a gaff.

Ah, but looks can be deceiving.

While she may have had every reason, Hannah did not rat out Cressida to her uncle, and in doing so had formed a secret alliance. That was also around the time Cressida began calling her “Duch.” She meant it as a term of endearment, and Hannah understood that now, but there was a time when she took it as an insult. An illegitimate, Hannah would never become a duchess or inherit a title. So when it was revealed that she was to marry the Gojo heir and not Cressida, Hannah thought her uncle had gone barking mad. Cressida Thames was his only daughter and pressed with every advantage; looks, money, prestige, and more importantly, magic. She had all the ingredients required of a sorcerer’s wife. It was expectant upon her to marry well, and perhaps that was what Lord Thames had up his sleeve. Sorcerer families needed heirs to keep the bloodlines going. For his daughter, that meant female lovers were out of the question, making the circumstances surrounding Vera’s death almost too suspect to ignore.

“My father did it. I know he did,” Cressida said bitterly, jaw clenched. “He knew Vera wouldn’t survive the mission and persuaded the Association to send her anyway.” Her hands balled into fists. “Someone betrayed us.”

“Not me,” Hannah blurted without meaning. “It wasn’t me, I promise.”

Cressida offered her cousin a strained smile. “No, Duch. I know it wasn’t you, but you see,” she swallowed the lump in her throat and took a staggered breath, “Vera was my everything, and now that she’s dead I feel lost. My one great happiness is gone.”

Hannah solemnly bowed her head. Much could be said about sin and damnation, about marriage belonging solely to one man and one woman, the New Testament and the Old. Hannah knew all the theological arguments, she knew Matthew 19 and Mark 10, but she also knew God was love. And if God was love, then was it right to suggest that those who abided in love, also abided in God? Did Cressida’s unwavering love for Vera amount to anything? Hannah often pondered these questions, but kept them buried in her heart. Now was not the time for philosophizing.

“I’m sorry, Cressida.” she said, but knowing what else to say. “I truly am.”

Cressida unfurled a handkerchief and wiped an escaped tear from her eye.

“Yes, well, crying about it won’t do us any good. Let’s change subject before my mascara runs.” She sniffed and rummaged her purse for another cigarette. “Talk to me about this elusive husband of yours. Is he descent?”

Hannah withheld little. She told Cressida almost everything. The night he saved her from the curse on her way back to her dorm; Their morning jogs and training sessions; Watching movies together; The tumultuous night at the theater; The baseball game, the indirect kiss, then the skyline of Tokyo, followed by the actual kiss; Her lack of self-confidence, which was directly linked to her virginity. And in the midst of her rambling, Hannah for the first time contemplated how many partners Satoru has had.

“I hate to break your heart, Duch, but men like him don’t come wearing chastity belts. I wager he’s plucked the bloom off every rose in the garden.”

Hannah's heart plummeted at that. “You really think so?”

“Think so?” Cressida said with a laugh. “I know so.”

But how? Hannah found herself wondering. Was that really a fair judgment, to accuse someone of being a roaming Lothario without ever having met him? Satoru was secretive, yes, but as far as Hannah knew, he’d mentioned nothing of past lovers. And while he happened to be a shameless flirt, the gestures never quite reached the levels Cressida was implying, either that, or her husband had taken great care not to sweet-talk the ladies whenever she was around. Even still, the assumption felt off. Everytime Satoru went away on a mission, he always returned the day he had promised, not at a designated time of course, but usually before sunset. When he wasn’t away, he spent most of his days relaxing at home and training with Hannah. And more recently, they had begun the long, overdue process of renovating the estate; shoji panels needed replacing every few years, and since they now were in the rainy month of June, they had begun checking the 200 year old house for leaks and mildew. In the past week alone, they had invited a flood of carpenters, gardeners, inspectors, and financiers into their home, and Hannah was tasked with more work than before, seeing to that the property was kept ship-shape. There were people to see, correspondence to answer, checkbooks to balance. Satoru couldn’t have time for lovers. They were far too busy. But still there was that unsettling voice in the back of her head, relentlessly badgering her: “You won’t measure up. He’ll find someone better."

Hannah looked up at her cousin for guidance.

“What do I do?”

Cressida rested her cigarette on a plate and propped her chin. “Hmm, you said he kissed you, didn’t he?” Hannah nodded. “Yes, but how did he kiss you?”

“W-What? What does that have to — ”

“Did he force himself on you, Duch? Threaten you? Touch you inappropriately? Men can be dogs when it comes to that sort of thing.”

Hannah vehemently denied this. “No, no, he didn’t force himself on me at all. In fact he…” she paused. “He apologized afterwards.”

Cressida raised both brows, looking astonished. “Really? That’s rather odd. You sure it wasn’t your imagination playing tricks on you?"

Hannah shook her head. “No, I remember now. He said, ‘sorry’ before teleporting us back down.” He had said it so softly in fact she almost didn’t hear him, but Satoru had said it: “Gomen.”

“Heavens, then it must be serious.”

“What’s serious?”

The Thames heiress picked up her cigarette again, choosing not to answer and inhaled another puff of tobacco-clove.

“You know, I slept with a man once,” she confessed, veering slightly off topic. “Just to try it. See what all the talk was about.”

Hannah was in the middle of taking a sip of tea, and being unprepared for the comment, nearly had it go down the wrong pipe. “And…was it nice?” she coughed, clearing her throat.

Cressida gestured with a lazy, sinuous shrug.

“No, not really. He was a bit too soft for my tastes. Almost like riding a miniature pony.” She made a wry shape with her mouth. “Only I couldn’t decide whether he rode me, or I rode him.” Then breaking into a great bellyful of laughter, she threw back her head and gave Hannah a knowing wink, but poor Hannah couldn’t find it in herself to laugh along.

“I wish I knew what I was doing?” she huffed, frustrated by her inexperience. “I know nothing about men.”

Cressida let out a snort. “Men aren’t complicated, Hannah. And they certainly don’t apologize after kissing someone unless their intentions are forthcoming, so I wouldn’t reach for the lifejacket just yet. Be honest with him and he’ll be honest with you.” The Thames heiress finished her second cigarette and stood up. “Anywho, I didn’t come all this way to gossip. I’ve brought you something.” She walked over to Hannah, carrying the bulky briefcase she came in with. It looked heavy. “Consider it my late wedding present.”

Hannah gave her cousin a skeptical look as she set the leather case down beside her and returned to her seat. Lying it flat on the ground, Hannah unjoined the clasps, popped open the lid, and gasped.

Inside were two tiaras: A kokoshnik faceted with emerald cabochons and rows of diamonds, mimicking the appearance of fish scales. Hannah recognized it immediately. This was the tiara adorning her mother in many of the portraits at Wasserton, including her favorite that hung in the East library, pairing nicely with the emerald necklace that now sat in a glass case in her closet. However, the other tiara she did not recognize. Its garland structure bore semblance to curling ocean waves crashing into the sea. Tiny briolette diamonds hung off the edges like sparkling water drops. She could hardly speak, they were so enchanting.

This was no simple wedding gift.

“Cressida, how on earth did you get these?”

The heiress looked mighty pleased with herself.

“Why I smuggled them, of course. Had to make sure Papa wouldn’t notice anything gone awry. Lord knows he has enough jewels. I dare say, my accomplice was rather thorough this time. He even managed to forge the signatures.” She whipped out the selling documents from her purse and placed them squarely on the table. Signed on two black lines was Hannah’s fake signature alongside Lord Thames’. “I believe these now legally belong to you.”

Utterly mystified, Hannah carefully pried the emerald diadem from its velvet moorings, admiring the lapidarist’s fine handiwork, shifting it side to side to watch the fire dance inside the precious stones. The weight felt both heavier and lighter than expected. She didn’t know much about jewels, but she knew these gems were of the highest quality.

“I can’t wear them in public, you know?” she admitted woefully, twirling the diamonds. “It isn’t appropriate for people outside the Imperial Family to wear tiaras.”

“So?” The heiress shrugged. “I never said you had to wear them. The point is that they’re yours.”

“Why though?” Hannah insisted. “You’ve never shown charity to me like this before? Why bother now?”

“Because.” Cressida’s face became frighteningly stern. There was a storm in her ocean blue eyes that could not be quelled. “I never got to thank you properly for safeguarding Vera’s virtue back then, and while we may not have treated you as such, you were a Thames before you were anyone else. I don’t care what the law states.” She tapped the selling documents with her long manicured fingers. “This is as much your birthright as it is mine. And besides.” Her voice lowered. “They took my one great happiness from me. They don’t get to take anything, from anyone, ever again. Mark my words.”

Having nothing more to say, Hannah looked down her lap and continued admiring her mother’s tiara. Cressida may have been vain and stuck up and unfairly judgemental, but her loyalty held no bounds. She could be trusted.

“And Hannah?” the heiress added. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Hmm?” Hannah looked up from the tiaras.

Cressida leaned over the table, dropping to the softest whisper. “You haven't told them the truth, have you? About…us?

Hannah knew what Cressida meant and grew solemn. “No,” she mouthed. “I’ve said nothing.”

“Good.” The heiress nodded approvingly. “You know the rules: Audi, vide, tace.”

The sorcerer’s wife tried hiding her dismay, “Yes, Cressida,” and looked down at the tiara in her lap. It felt heavier than it did a second ago as the Latin emptied her mouth. “Audi, vide, tace.”

Chapter Contents

[whitneysboyslut2]

new oc just dropped

accoon planet, fzn, toon me!, black centered <3

this is cassandra peters, or "cass the devoted." she's my concession that i just can't get the angel tf the legitimate way. i turned on cheats to get her virginity back, and i've been using them sparingly to help her along. as of posting this, she's just got her halo

she's 5'10", innocent and meek, her favorite color is yellow, and she's currently a nun at the temple. despite being a big ol' nerd, she's actually pretty popular. something to do with the eager, genuine, happy-go-lucky mindset that being innocent affords her. she often works as a housekeeper, but she's most eager to pursue her training at the temple.

lookbook

[honeyhhearted]

Hold My Hand - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter / Start from the beginning

Read on AO3

Warnings: Arguing/Fighting

A/N: THANK YOU for holding tight while i've been drafting. i am so sorry it's taking me so long between chapters, i work full time and have severe ADHD, so i find myself so burned out so quickly. i'm working on it :)

Fic summary: When a young village girl begins to exhibit magic she should not wield, the Firm takes her in as one of their own, to be trained and raised as Princess of Asgard. (Or the one where Loki meets his match and falls head over heels (and is embarrassed about it).)

Chapter summary: You have an unfortunate run in with your new betrothed...and it doesn't go well, to say the least.

Word was sent to your parents of your new arrangement as Thor led you to your chambers. The silence was suffocating as your mind ran a mile a minute.

How would this arrangement work? Did Prince Loki know? Was this his doing? Why would they set you up with the Prince, rather than punishing you? Your stomach swirled. What would your life be like with him? Would he be cruel? Would he take pity on you?

“My lady,” Thor began, his voice filled with discomfort. He came to a stop in the center of the hall and turned to you. “I apologize that this has been sprung on you.” You cleared your throat, head beginning to pound as you shoved back the tears you wanted nothing more than to let fall. You wrung your hands as you looked up at him. “Thank you, your Highness…I am just overwhelmed. Does Prince Loki know?”

His eyes dropped. “I do not know.”

Your chest tightened. The Prince was not told about his arranged marriage. And I am here to bear the brunt of his inevitable anger.

“If I may ask, my Prince–” You started. Thor raised a hand. “Please. You will be my sister soon, no matter the situation. Call me Thor.”

You nodded, appreciating that Thor seemed to be genuine and kind. “If I may ask, Thor, do you believe Prince Loki will be angry?” Thor’s face was grim. “I am unsure, but…” His face twisted into a grimace. “I believe so. But if he is a good man at all, he will not blame you.” You hoped so. Thor walked you the rest of the way to your rooms in silence, though slightly more comfortable than before. - Your chambers were amazing. The floors were marble, with gold detailing and fixtures. A large, plush bed with a light pink canopy sat against a floor length mirror facing the cities and gardens below. You observed the other furnishings in awe as you stepped into the room. An attached bathroom held a bathtub the size of a pool. You were overwhelmed as you took it all in. Yesterday, you’d woken up as a poor girl in the outskirts of the village; a family shunned for your oddities. You could never have believed that in less than twenty-four hours, you would be a ward of the Royal Family, arranged to marry their youngest son. Though your fate as the wife of the cruel son was unbearable, you knew that this was the better path for your life to take. The Norns would not have sent you here if you were destined to suffer in this place. There must be some reason your life so drastically changed. You spent the remaining time in your afternoon outside. Thor had left you with the knowledge of how to get to the gardens if you wanted to explore the palace grounds, so you’d figured it best to familiarize yourself with the layout of the wing you resided in and its surrounding area. Your walk was peacefully quiet, the occasional member of the housekeeping staff passing by you and nodding politely. You would adjust to having staff cater to you, but it was surreal to be treated like you were anything but the village pariah. When you reached the gardens, you drank in the view. Rows of ornamental shrubs and flower arrangements, gardeners tending to the plants all over. You walked through slowly, enjoying the soft fragrances carried by the breeze. Deciding you needed a moment to take in your new surroundings, you followed a path deeper into the garden, leading to a secluded area with a small bench for you to rest on. You sat, sighing. Looking out past the greenery, you drank in the kingdom of Asgard in its entirety. The view of the village, the city line, people moving about their daily lives as small as ants from where you sat. It almost made you feel smaller, to realize that you had always just been part of an almost anonymous whole. To see everyone now, small specks in your view, set your new path in perspective. How many times did the King and Queen sit in these gardens, looking down at their subjects? How often did any member of the royal family enjoy watching the village like children staring at farm animals through slats in the fences? You heard a snap sound from behind you. Whirling around on the bench, you met a pair of green eyes looking sharply down at you. “You are the one my parents have decided I will settle down for?” His voice was sharp, dripping with venom. “How pathetic.” You stood quickly, running your clammy hands down the front of your skirt. “Prince Loki. My name is-” “I do not care for your name. Do not assume I care for you at all, girl. You are merely a pawn in my father’s games, and I refuse to play along this time. I merely wanted to get a look at you, and I see now that there is not much to see.” His eyes roam over you with disinterest. Your cheeks heated as your heart pounded in your chest. You felt a stinging behind your eyes and tried to blink away the beginning of tears before he could notice. “I apologize, your Highness, but I have as little choice in the matter as you do. The Allfather-” “The Allfather does not speak for me. And I will see to it that this is rectified immediately.” With that, Loki turned and stalked out of the garden. You pressed a shaking hand to your chest, exhaling slowly. You felt your heart thumping under your chest as you were filled with a sharp sense of unease. You had known that the Prince had a temper, and could be downright unpleasant, but the way his eyes had roamed over your body like you were nothing cut through you. When he was finally gone, you allowed yourself the moment to cry, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. This life is not the one you wanted for yourself. Of course, you were not stupid. You knew this would be difficult. You knew your life was never meant to be a happy one, being born with a curse such as yours. But you never could have imagined that being brought into the palace, something that every other Asgardian would view as a blessing, would be something so miserable. You decided to walk back to your chamber, eyes puffy and red. You just wanted the day to be over, to have a reprieve from the awful day you have had thus far. Of course, you have never been one to experience good luck, and you walked straight into Thor on your return. You slammed into each other, knocking you off balance. He reached for you, straightening you before you could fall. You see him scan you for injury, landing on your puffy face. “What happened, my lady?” He asked, voice full of concern. His gentleness in contrast to the abrasive cruelty of his brother spurred on another round of tears, and you let out a sob. He hushed you, guiding you into another room and seating you at a small bench. When you are able to calm down, you recount the conversation you’d had with Loki in the gardens. You watched as Thor’s face turned from surprise to disappointment and anger as his brother’s behavior. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to speak poorly of him,” You started, hiccuping. “But I do not understand what I’ve done wrong.” He shook his head. “You have done nothing wrong. My brother’s words are meant to hurt. He knows destruction and how to bring it, and he lashed out at you. You did not deserve that. I will not speak to him about this, my lady. But I must inform my parents of his behavior.” You nodded, sniffling again. “Thank you, Thor. I appreciate your comfort and understanding.” “You do not need to thank me. It is only the right thing to do.” Thor guided you back to your chamber as he made small talk about the palace grounds. You told him of your visit into the gardens before your confrontation with Loki, and how beautiful you found it. He seemed pleased. In your room, exhausted, you decided it would be for the best to lay down. Despite the fact that the sun had not yet set, you could not imagine being forced to face the rest of the day.

-

You woke in the morning to the sun illuminating the room. For a moment, you could almost hear your father’s humming, or your mother’s soft rustling as she moved about the house trying not to wake you. Then your surroundings settled on you, and you sighed as you blinked up at the ceiling with watery eyes. A soft knock at the door persuaded you out of bed. You stretched, standing and feeling the cool tile beneath your feet. You padded to the door, opening it tentatively to see a small girl who looked to be part of the palace staff. She gave you a small smile, curtsying. “Good morning, my lady. Are you well?” She asked. “Y-Yes, I am,” You say, awkwardly. She seemed to sense your discomfort. “My name is Camille. I am tasked to be your lady-in-waiting.” She shifted on her feet, wringing her hands. Your stomach turned. You didn’t want to make the poor girl uncomfortable, but the idea of having someone assigned to cater to you felt wrong. You sighed quietly, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I was unaware,” You said, trying your best to look reassuring. “Please, come in.” She gave you a small, hesitant smile, entering the room. She walked toward a door to the left, opening it wide and stepping in. Inside was a large wardrobe room. As you followed her, your jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. The room was the size of your family home, full of casual dresses and gowns, shoes, and accessories you could never have even dreamed of owning before. “While you were away yesterday, Her Majesty had us stock your wardrobe. The size is approximated, as you seem to be similar to Her Majesty in stature, but if anything does not suit you, please let us know.” She explained, motioning to the hanging dresses. “I will go over with you the dress occasions, but you will never have to worry. When it is time for a particular event that requires dress assistance, I and my co-lady, Lille, will be here with you.” Your head spun. Still taking in the room, her words only served to overwhelm you. You knew nothing about how to dress as a member of Asgard’s high society. What if you made a fool of yourself, or worse, embarrassed the Royal Family at an important engagement? Camille seemed to sense your nerves. She rested a gentle hand on your forearm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, my lady. But I promise, we are here to help you.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you,” You croaked. “I’m sorry. I just…I am not yet used to this.” She smiled at you. “I understand. If I may, my lady, can I familiarize you with your options? Please stop me if you have any questions.”

-

After what felt like an eternity, reviewing corseted versus non-corseted gowns, day dresses, evening gowns, riding gear, shoes…your head felt tight. Camille was extremely helpful, answering all of the questions you had. But still, it felt like so much to take in. With her assistance, you had chosen a simple day dress, pale yellow and simple. She directed you to the main hall, where meals were held, for breakfast. You ran into Thor at the entrance to the hall, and relief filled you. You weren’t looking forward to entering the hall alone. His face brightened. “Good morning! I trust you slept well?” His voice boomed. You smiled back at him. “Good morning, Thor. I did, thank you.” He nodded, pleased. Offering you his arm, he turned toward the door. “Shall we head inside?” You took his arm gratefully. “We shall.”

-

Breakfast was…awkward. Odin sat at the head of the table, his face stern. Frigga, to his right, and Thor, to his left, looked at the empty chair beside Thor in exasperation. You sat beside the Queen, fiddling with your hands beneath the table. All of your plates remained untouched. Loki was late. Again, if their exasperation could be interpreted properly. Odin sighed, a low rumbling sound. “The boy does not show respect in even the most mundane of moments. It is a wonder he even fulfills his general duties at all.” Frigga shook her head. “He will show. A lack of faith in him only serves to push his behavior further.” “You think this is a result of lack of faith? This is insolence at its finest, a show of disrespect toward the very simple rules we ask him to follow. Thor has no issue with them, yet the boy persists in defying me.” Odin’s voice hardened. “Please, dear,” Frigga said, “Do not pit your sons against each other in that way. Loki will show.” As if on cue, the doors swung open, echoing to the table. Loki, with a smug smile curling his lips, strode to the table. He sat beside Thor, staring at Odin defiantly. “Good morning, everyone,” He spoke smoothly, beginning to gather food on his plate. He ate slowly, tearing a piece of toast and slathering it with jam before looking around the table. “Oh,” He started mockingly, “you all didn’t have to wait for me.” Odin’s neck strained, his brow furrowed. “You disrespect the palace staff, you disrespect your post, you disrespect your family. Is there nothing that you are willing to do? Do you even think to behave yourself?” You sat silently, looking firmly down at your hands. You didn’t want to be involved in this conflict, and you feared if he noticed you, really noticed you, he would do it by force. You didn’t understand why Loki’s tardiness was so important, but you were not going to question it. Loki sneered. “My apologies, Father. But perhaps I have better things to do than posture as the obedient son. I stand in for mischief, after all.” Odin’s voice tightened. “It should not be posturing. You are a Prince, and you need to start acting like one.” “Or what?” Loki challenged. “Loki, please,” Frigga started, her voice pleading, but Odin’s voice filled the room. His fist slammed on the table, rattling the dishware. You flinched, looking up. “I will not tolerate your disrespect any longer, Loki! You are not here for-” “Odin!” Frigga exclaimed over him. “Do not continue this here. Please.” Loki’s face was frozen, contemplative. “What am I here for, Father? I am an heir to the throne of Asgard. I will fulfill my duties as needed, but I will not be your pawn.” His eyes flicked to you, and you felt your heart seize. “Particularly in terms of the joke of a marriage you are trying to impose on me.” Frigga placed a soft hand on your upper arm. “Loki…we were told of your behavior and, ahem,” She cleared her throat delicately, “opinions of this arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, the golden boy came running to Mother and Father, didn’t he, after the pathetic thing told her woes?” Thor tensed. “Brother. Your cruelty is needless. Your ire at me is allowable, but not toward her.” “You defend this wretched woman, support her weaseling her way into our family? I am not surprised by your nobility, brother, you have always wanted to be the knight to every weak maiden you encounter. But you, father, I am surprised at.” He bared his teeth. “I mean really, to think that this woman,” He spat at you, and you could hear your own heart pounding, “is doing nothing more than plotting her way into a Prince’s bed is pointless. I’m sure her family will be pleased to have a Princess for a daughter, no less-” “That is enough.” Your own voice shocked you, hard and unwavering. “How dare you speak of my family. You know nothing, you arrogant, spiteful, disrespectful man. My family is cursed because of me. Because of my ability. It is a curse, and you will not sit here and spit on them and spit on the sacrifices they made for me.” You blinked away traitorous tears, pulling in a shuddering breath as your anger consumed you. “You have disrespected me, you made me feel like I was nothing but a speck beneath your shoe, and I can take that. I am not unfamiliar with men who believe themselves to be wolves when really they are small and pathetic and insecure in themselves. But do not disrespect my family.” The table was silent for a moment. Thor looked at you in shock at your outburst, Odin’s face arranged in a similar way. Frigga beside you kept her face composed, but you noticed a slight tick in her cheek. You glared at Loki, your ragged, angry breathing filling the room, before he smirked at you, raising an eyebrow. “She has claws, I see.” He spoke. “Glad to know you at least will have a backbone.” With that, Loki stood, the sound of his chair scraping on the floor echoing on the walls. “I will take my leave.” You let out all of the air in your lungs as soon as the door slammed shut behind him.

[jessicachortkoff]

Going to Belmont High with Odetta

Odetta: the History Singer By Jessica Chortkoff Rosa Parks, the hero of the civil rights movement who bravely refused to give up her seat to a white person and move to the back of the bus in an act that sparked countrywide change, was once asked what songs were most important to the peaceful but powerful movement. “All of the songs Odetta sings,” she said. Odetta had moved to Los Angeles with her mother and sister when she was six years old. "We were on the train when, at one point, a conductor came back and said that all the colored people had to move out of this car and into another one," Odetta said in a 2008 interview, “That was my first big wound," Odetta said of her trip as a child from Alabama to Los Angeles. By the 1960s Odetta was a black, overweight, young woman, and she was competing and winning in a field dominated by men. She was garnering the same amount of respect. Less than a decade before, this had not been the case. In the late 1940’s Odetta found herself working as a housekeeper by day to pay for her education, while going to LACC and studying voice, by night. She, like students today, was self-conscious of her looks, her hair, and her weight. “When I cut my hair, it was called an Odetta. Until then, I had swallowed lock, stock and barrel the uptightness of this society -- feeling ashamed of 'Black,' 'fat,' 'ugly.' Looking back, the path to self was paying attention to my intuition, feelings and thoughts. I now include my needs along with what others need or want from me.” She managed to earn an Associate’s degree in Classical Music and Musical Comedy. “There was a time,” she later said, “when if it wasn’t classical, I wasn’t interested. I was interested in oratorios and art songs and lieder.” After leaving City College, Odetta took a trip to San Francisco to perform in the musical Finian’s Rainbow, and fell in love with folk music. “I didn’t want to be anybody,” said Odetta, “When I was growing up; there was no way that a black person was going to be in the opera. I knew that my hero, Marian Anderson, well, not until she was retired did they even invite her to participate in the Metropolitan Opera.” Odetta once said, “School taught me how to count and taught me how to put a sentence together. But as far as the human spirit goes, I learned through folk music.” “I learned things about the history of black people in this country that the historians in school had not been willing to teach, said Odetta in a 2008 interview, “In the classical music I was singing things like "oh, swallow, swallow, flying, flying south"....it was a nice exercise but it had nothing to do with my life. The folk songs were the anger, the venom and the hatred of myself and everybody else and everything else...They were liberation songs! You're walking down life's road, society's foot is on your throat, every which way you turn you can't get from under that foot. And you reach a fork in the road and you can either lie down and die, or insist upon your life.” The 1960s was when Odetta's career really took off. She had made her powerful voice into a sharp weapon for black equality, and her music has been called the "soundtrack of the protest movement”. In 1963, during the March on Washington, Odetta, like Marian Anderson before her, sang from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and it was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. that introduced her, as “the Queen of American Folk music.” “As I did those songs, I could work on my hate and fury without being antisocial,” said Odetta. “Some of the songs served me by taking care of the frustration that I felt, the hate I felt for myself and everybody else, just being unhappy and unsatisfied. As I sang the prison work songs, I got the anger and the fury attended to in me.” Odetta had the National Medal of Arts presented to her in 1990. She is a Kennedy Center Honoree; and held the Library of Congress’s Living Legend Award. Her final album, a live recording performed when she was 74 years old, is called Gonna Let It Shine (2005). “It's from their forebears, and it's an alternative to what they hear on the radio,” said Odetta of protest music. “As long as I am performing, I will be pointing out that heritage that is ours. These songs come out of difficult times, and since the difficult times haven't been fixed, the songs are still here for us." And she did just that, right up until the very end of her life. In fact, Odetta performed at least 60 shows the last two years of her life, touring in a wheelchair. “If only one could be sure that every fifty years a voice and a soul like Odetta's would come along, the centuries would pass so quickly and painlessly we would hardly recognize time,” Maya Angelou said of her friend, Odetta. #Jessicachortkoff #angelenowithacamera #odetta #folkmusic #history #highschool #1940s #1950s #1960s #belmonthighschool #alumnus #Harryjlandon #california #photography #architecture #losangeles #music #art #blues #civilrights #integration

[maytheoddshq]

Caspian Firth (he/him). District Four Tribute. 23. Timothee Chalamet.

Some believe that at the center of everyone is goodness, and that the world builds shells around that goodness, layers upon layers that cover up that goodness until it can’t be seen nor acted upon.

Others believe that this is bullshit.

Caspian Firth paid his way into the District Four Career Academy. His parents were fishermen, as was everyone in the town he grew up in, a small one not far from the District’s center. He grew up reeling in nets, born with sea legs. He’d swim for hours, disappearing into the waves and testing his stamina, pushing as far as he could go until he feared he might drown, and then saving himself. Again, again. Drawing himself to the edge of death and pulling himself back like waves kissing the shore before leaving again.

When he was twelve, he started saving money and working odd jobs until he had enough to pay for a semester at the Academy. Once there, he convinced the headmaster to allow him to work for half-off tuition, so after everyone else had gone to bed, he worked alongside the janitors, cooks, and housekeepers, scrubbing down the equipment, preparing breakfast, taking out the trash. He took odd jobs in town as well to keep up with the payments, sleeping three, maybe four hours per night. All of it was done with a purpose: to be part of the Hunger Games, the most glorious sporting event the world had ever seen. The stakes were high, the emotions higher. He loved it, looked forward to watching it every year. He wanted nothing more than to be a part of it, to master it and win it. To show that he could. It didn’t come from a desire to rise above his station; he truly didn’t care that he’d been born lower class. It didn’t come from a desire to prove anyone wrong about him; in fact, as he was one of nine siblings, no one really cared what he did. People didn’t underestimate or overestimate him: they simply failed to estimate at all.

No, he wanted to participate in the Games out of a pure desire to be part of them. Simply put: it looked like fun. He was well aware that he could die in the process, but that was what would make it so exhilarating. He’d played these kinds of dying-games since he was a child, after all, with the waves as his competitors, the pull of the ocean calling to him.

He took advantage of his unique position to learn more about the other students, his competition. He looked through their trash, searching for information, weaknesses, connections he could exploit. On the morning of a big tournament between students to determine the top of the class, he poured liquor into the pancake batter, and easily won against his drunken competition. He found out that a girl who always beat him in the simulators had a crush on another boy in their level; he left her flowers and a note supposedly from the boy, asked her to meet him outside at midnight. He watched from an upper window as she waited for two hours while the boy didn’t show, and then spread a rumor the next day that she’d been stood up. She became a laughing stock, front and center to the cruelty of the Academy students, and she dropped out the day after.

He learned the ins and outs of the machinery in the training center and in the night, when no one was around and he was there on the pretense of cleaning, he’d rig the machines for the next day, switching around the ‘hard’ and ‘easy’ settings or re-programming the holograms to his own advantage. It wasn’t hard, when you watched the trainers reset them each day by tapping the upper right of the screen and entering their administrators’ code. You just had to pay attention. It was all about paying attention.

All of this wasn’t because he wasn’t good at fighting and weaponry; he was. The problem was that he was scrawny, and his best asset was his brain, as well as his ruthlessness. He truly didn’t give a fuck about harming his competition, nor did he care about making friends. Everyone else was a piece of his puzzle, and he used them accordingly, befriending some and shunning others strategically. Everything in his life tilted towards the Games.

Rio and Carol’s recent victories have inspired him, and he’s sure that a third victory in the span of only a few years will bring Four into the territory of One and Two, so that everyone will know how strong Four is, and that they are not to be underestimated. He competed brutally (and cheated sporadically) in all of the tournaments that determined who would volunteer for 133, and he won.

Now? It’s showtime.

+: headstrong, determined, clever

-: selfish, uncaring, cold

PENNED BY: VIRGINIA

[careconciergene18]

Explore Senior Living Options in Rhode Island

As you or your loved ones age, exploring senior living options in Rhode Island can offer a range of choices to ensure comfort, safety, and quality of life. Whether you are looking for independent living, assisted living, memory care, or nursing homes, Rhode Island provides a variety of senior living communities to cater to different needs.

This guide will help you navigate the options available in the state. If you are in search of senior living options in Rhode Island, you may navigate to this site.

Types of Senior Living Options

Independent Living

Designed for seniors who want to maintain an active lifestyle and enjoy a sense of community.

Residents live in private apartments or cottages and have access to various amenities and social activities.

No assistance with daily tasks is provided, but services like housekeeping and meal plans may be available.

Assisted Living

Suitable for seniors who require some assistance with daily activities such as bathing, dressing, or medication management.

Offers personalized care plans to accommodate individual needs while promoting independence.

Provides amenities like meals, housekeeping, transportation, and social activities.

Memory Care

Specifically designed for seniors with Alzheimer's disease, dementia, or other memory-related conditions.

Secured environments to prevent wandering and specialized staff trained in memory care.

Activities and programs tailored to support cognitive function and quality of life.

Nursing Homes

Offer 24-hour skilled nursing care for seniors with complex medical needs or disabilities.

Provide assistance with daily activities, medical monitoring, rehabilitation services, and palliative care.

Often have amenities like dining services, recreational activities, and social services.

Factors to Consider

Location

Consider the proximity to family, friends, and medical facilities.

Explore the neighborhood and surrounding amenities for convenience and accessibility.

Cost

Determine the overall expenses, including monthly fees, level of care, and any additional services.

Review insurance coverage, long-term care policies, and financial assistance options.

Amenities and Services

Look for facilities that offer amenities and services aligned with your preferences and needs.

Consider factors like meals, housekeeping, transportation, activities, and medical care.

Staff Expertise and Care

Evaluate the qualifications, training, and experience of the staff members.

Observe interactions between staff and residents to gauge the level of care and attention provided.

Top Senior Living Communities in Rhode Island

Summit Commons Rehabilitation and Health Care Center

Located in Providence, Summit Commons offers skilled nursing care, rehabilitation services, and long-term care options.

Atria Harborhill

Set in East Greenwich, Atria Harborhill provides assisted living and memory care services with beautiful surroundings and engaging activities.

Brookdale South Bay

Located in South Kingstown, Brookdale South Bay offers independent living, assisted living, and memory care in a vibrant community setting.

The Highlands on the East Side

Situated in Providence, The Highlands on the East Side offers independent living, assisted living, and memory care services in a historic and elegant environment.

Conclusion

Exploring senior living options in Rhode Island can provide a range of choices to suit different needs and preferences. Whether you are considering independent living, assisted living, memory care, or nursing homes, it's important to evaluate factors such as location, cost, amenities, and staff expertise to make an informed decision. The top senior living communities in Rhode Island offer quality care and engaging environments for seniors to enjoy a fulfilling retirement.

[hiimanshiiitsolutions]

Free Job Alert Vacancy in Aamby Valley City, Maharashtra

Nestled amidst the serene beauty of the Sahyadri Hills, Aamby Valley City in Maharashtra is known for its breathtaking landscapes, world-class infrastructure, and luxurious lifestyle offerings. But beyond its picturesque allure, this city is also a hub of emerging job opportunities for individuals looking to grow their careers in a unique and inspiring environment. If you're searching for "Free Job Alert Vacancy in Aamby Valley City, Maharashtra," this blog will guide you through the types of opportunities available, the skills in demand, and how to get started.

Aamby Valley City: A Growing Hub for Professionals Aamby Valley City, developed as a planned township, offers a diverse range of job opportunities across various sectors. Whether you are a fresher looking to start your career or an experienced professional seeking a change, there’s something for everyone. The serene surroundings and well-structured infrastructure make it a desirable workplace for those who wish to balance work with tranquility.

Let’s explore the avenues and sectors where you can find free job alerts and vacancies in Aamby Valley City, Maharashtra.

Sectors Offering Job Opportunities in Aamby Valley City Hospitality and Tourism Aamby Valley City is a hotspot for tourism and luxury hospitality. With several high-end resorts, restaurants, and recreational activities, the demand for skilled professionals in this sector remains high. Roles in customer service, hotel management, housekeeping, and culinary arts are frequently advertised.

Real Estate and Property Management Being a planned city, Aamby Valley is a hub for real estate activity. From sales executives and marketing professionals to site engineers and architects, there are numerous opportunities in property management and real estate development.

Retail and Lifestyle Luxury retail and lifestyle brands have a significant presence in Aamby Valley. If you have experience in retail management, fashion, or merchandising, you can find opportunities in boutique stores and lifestyle outlets.

Security and Facility Management Given the city’s high-end residential and commercial establishments, security personnel, facility managers, and maintenance workers are in constant demand. These roles are essential to ensure the seamless functioning of the township.

Event Management and Entertainment Aamby Valley frequently hosts events ranging from corporate gatherings to private celebrations. Professionals in event planning, logistics, sound engineering, and creative designing can explore numerous opportunities in this sector.

Education and Training The presence of schools, training centers, and corporate learning institutes offers teaching positions and administrative roles. If you’re passionate about education, there are openings for tutors, instructors, and academic coordinators.

Skills in Demand for Aamby Valley Jobs While vacancies in Aamby Valley City span diverse fields, certain skills are universally in demand:

Interpersonal and Communication Skills: Particularly for customer-facing roles in hospitality and retail. Technical Proficiency: Engineers, architects, and IT professionals with specialized knowledge are valued. Problem-Solving Abilities: Crucial for positions in event management, security, and facility operations. Attention to Detail: Essential for real estate developers, maintenance staff, and educators. Creativity and Innovation: A must for roles in marketing, entertainment, and event planning. How to Stay Updated on Free Job Alerts in Aamby Valley City Online Job Portals Websites like Naukri, Indeed, and Monster India regularly feature job listings in Aamby Valley City. Set up email alerts with the keyword "Free Job Alert Vacancy in Aamby Valley City, Maharashtra" to receive notifications.

Local Recruitment Agencies Several agencies specialize in placing candidates in positions specific to Aamby Valley. Researching and registering with these agencies can give you a competitive edge.

Social Media Platforms LinkedIn and Facebook job groups often post about openings in niche locations like Aamby Valley. Join relevant groups and follow company pages to stay informed.

Networking Attend local job fairs, workshops, and industry meetups in the nearby regions to connect with recruiters and professionals working in Aamby Valley City.

Company Websites Keep an eye on the career sections of businesses operating in Aamby Valley City. While top companies aren’t listed in this blog, smaller firms and startups also provide exciting opportunities.

Benefits of Working in Aamby Valley City Working in Aamby Valley City comes with unique advantages:

Work-Life Balance: The tranquil setting and proximity to nature offer a peaceful work environment. World-Class Amenities: Employees enjoy access to excellent infrastructure, from well-maintained roads to recreational facilities. Career Growth: The township’s growth offers ample room for professional development, especially in emerging sectors. Final Thoughts If you're eager to explore "Free Job Alert Vacancy in Aamby Valley City, Maharashtra," it’s an exciting time to start your search. From hospitality to education, a range of opportunities await skilled individuals in this enchanting township. By leveraging job portals, networking, and local resources, you can secure a position that aligns with your career goals and lifestyle preferences.

Stay proactive, refine your skills, and make the most of the opportunities in Aamby Valley City. It’s not just a workplace but a destination that promises growth, satisfaction, and an unmatched quality of life.