#Corporate Psychology Services

[sakshatahuja09]

Corporate Psychologist

Welcome to the Center for Mental Health in Pune, India, where expertise meets compassion in mental health care. Our dedicated page on the best clinical psychologist in Pune showcases our commitment to providing specialized support for individuals seeking emotional well-being. Discover personalized approaches, transformative solutions, and the highest quality of care offered by our top clinical psychologists.

[asalescommunity]

Have a read about an economy.

[thewingedwolf]

one goofy ass thing i like about my job is we all really like having staff feedback after programs (like after in service, after summer reading, etc) because it just makes it easier to make it actually helpful and easier next time around and that’s all we want right, like PERSONALLY i don’t want to be anxious about a program and dreading it all year, which means i get to do what i Love which is offer my opinion constructively so i can be like “i think some people just don’t understand paylocity, it is a little confusing & for them, going through that app is this scary time sink so they don’t open it ever.” and no one is taking it personally because five other people wrote in “beanstack scares me” and “i’m not using teams” and we can just adjust our expectations of our older coworkers instead of writing people up for it akskd.

[miragelaw01]

Need expert legal assistance for eviction cases in Los Angeles? Our experienced eviction attorneys at Mirage Law specialize in landlord-tenant disputes to ensure your rights are protected. Learn more at https://miragelaw.com/.

[neworkimprov]

The Secret Sauce for Successful Teams: Psychological Safety A lesson from Google's Project Aristotle

At the New York Improv Theater, we understand the power of collaboration and the magic that happens when individuals come together to create something new. Whether it’s a hilarious improv scene or a groundbreaking comedy show, the success of our endeavors often hinges on the dynamics of our teams. Google, a company known for its innovative approach, embarked on a quest to understand what makes…

[goryhorroor]

masterpost of horror lists

here are all my horror lists in one place to make it easier to find! enjoy!

sub-genres

action horror

analog horror

animal horror

animated horror

anthology horror

aquatic horror

apocalyptic horror

backwoods horror

bubblegum horror

campy horror

cannibal horror

children’s horror

comedy horror

coming-of-age horror

corporate/work place horror

cult horror

dance horror

dark comedy horror

daylight horror

death games

domestic horror

ecological horror

erotic horror

experimental horror

fairytale horror

fantasy horror

folk horror

found footage horror

giallo horror

gothic horror

grief horror

historical horror

holiday horror

home invasion horror

house horror

indie horror

isolation horror

insect horror

lgbtqia+ horror

lovecraftian/cosmic horror

medical horror

meta horror

monster horror

musical horror

mystery horror

mythological horror

neo-monster horror

new french extremity horror

paranormal horror

political horror

psychedelic horror

psychological horror

religious horror

revenge horror

romantic horror

dramatic horror

science fiction horror

slasher

southern gothic horror

sov horror (shot-on-video)

splatter/body horror

survival horror

techno-horror

vampire horror

virus horror

werewolf horror

western horror

witch horror

zombie horror

horror plots/settings

road trip horror

summer camp horror

cave horror

doll horror

cinema horror

cabin horror

clown horror

wilderness horror

asylum horror

small town horror

college horror

plot devices

storm horror

from a child’s perspective

final girl/guy (this is slasher horror trope)

last guy/girl (this is different than final girl/guy)

reality-bending horror

slow burn horror

possession

pregnancy horror

foreign horror or non-american horror

african horror

spanish horror

middle eastern horror

korean horror

japanese horror

british horror

german horror

indian horror

thai horror

irish horror

scottish horror

slavic horror (kinda combined a bunch of countries for this)

chinese horror

french horror

australian horror

canadian horror

decades

silent era

30s horror

40s horror

50s horror

60s horror

70s horror

80s horror

90s horror

2000s horror

2010s horror

2020s horror

companies/services

blumhouse horror

a24 horror

ghosthouse horror

shudder horror

other lists

horror literature to movies

techno-color horror movies

video game to horror movie adaption

video nasties

female directed horror

my 130 favorite horror movies

horror movies critics hated because they’re stupid

horror remakes/sequels that weren’t bad

female villains in horror

horror movies so bad they’re good

non-horror movies that feel like horror movies

directors + their favorite horror movies + directors in the notes

tumblr’s favorite horror movie (based off my poll)

horror movie plot twists

cult classic horror movies

essential underrated horror films

worst horror movie husbands

religious horror that isn’t christianity 

black horror movies

extreme horror (maybe use this as an avoid list)

horror shorts

[asalescommunity]

An education is a basis of all qualifications.

A brand name can be correct.

A profession is a leverage to build a wealth upon.

If you are a psychologist, and you want to work for me, write a report and let me know here.

23. Journalism and communications major, Psychology and human intelligence minor. Business owner. Level up coach. Writer. blogger. Cat mom. ADHD productivity mentor [sounds funny when I say it]. Dyslexic.

I sound so fancy huh. I like that for me

Mind mastery | Elegance |Level up | Stoicism | Feminism

-> psychology X neuroscience insights

-> how to's

-> life lessons

-> thatbitching 101

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The blog I wish I had <3

[ferritins]

THIS TORNADO LOVES YOU | S. RILEY

SUMMARY: Simon takes a step you never thought he would, in a way you’d never imagine.

NOTES: the endearment ‘pet’ is used once, in an “author grew up in The Midlands City God Forgot AKA Leicester” way, not the kink way. credit for the idea for this piece goes to @bleuu-moon, who’s post about Simon letting you take off the mask has been living in my head rent free bills and utilities included for ages.

disclaimer; whilst I’m down bad for fictional men who are taller than me, I also an anti-militarism pro disarmament pacifist. COD and other military games a recruitment tool for the armed forces, and PMCs are just a way for governments to outsource war crimes to avoid The Hague. do not enlist; big oil and genocidaires are not worth dying for and armed service will chew you up and shit you out to die as soon as you are physically or psychologically incapable of dying for the sake of capital.

You come home to Simon illuminated by your television, scant blood splotches blackish on his fatigue sleeves.

“Um. Is any of that yours?” You venture, dropping your keys in their designated dish, casting a careful eye over your lover. “I thought we had come to an agreement about you actively bleeding all over my sofa cushions after last time.”

Simon grunts.

You roll your eyes.

“Words, love.”

“Just got back from Santo Domingo.” You hiss a quiet breath through your teeth, wincing as you turn to hang your coat; the boys had been following an organisation of information brokers trading in NATO military intelligence, the kind of people with whom contact was both rare and in its eventuality, incredibly bloody.

Nevertheless, Simon has never been someone who is particularly receptive to sympathy; by the time you turn back around to face him, your face is carefully neutral.

“Did you achieve your mission objective? Wait, more importantly, you didn’t answer my question; are you bleeding?”

There’s a bitter little chuckle. “Affirmative to the first, negative to the second.”

The air sits heavy as you and Simon watch one another, flashes of colour and light bouncing off the skull of his mask like a nightmare in Technicolor.

Just when the tension reaches the point of being unbearable, Simon speaks.

“They knew your name.” He says, voice basso profundo with his gathering fury.

A frisson of fear runs down your spine — not at Simon, not after all this time, but at the information — before dissipating like cigarette smoke in a hurricane.

It’s a target on your back, sure, but it is one of dozens. Your career has made you many enemies.

“They trade in military intelligence, Simon, which is pretty much my entire area of specialty.”

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“Do you think I’m a shrinking violet? What, should I give up my Lance Corporal’s stripe and my job? You met me when I was working signal intercept radio intelligence on RAF Ascension Island, for God’s sake.”

“You’d be safer.” Simon’s voice has taken on as much of a pleading tone as he’s capable of.

“I’d be miserable.” You retort.

“Fuck.” Simon snarls, a savage sigh of breath leaving him. “You know I’m not gonna leave your side after today, pet? Gonna get sick of my face.”

“If this is supposed to irritate me into obscurity, it’s not going to work. I like the mask, and having six foot eight of perfectly built spec ops soldier at my back isn’t exactly a hardship.” You snarl.

“Simon’s head tilts, predatory.

I”I said my face, lovie.”

Your heart starts hammering.

“”Simon, you’ve not been barefaced in front of someone in nigh on a decade. Your personnel file doesn’t have a photograph of you, and the only one that exists of you is redacted so far only His Maj can see it. For fuck’s sake, you’ve torn men’s throats out for so much as touching your mask.”

“Simon hums an affirmative, a mocking note under the tone of it.

“So now you’re scared of what intelligence gathering can lead to? Scared I’ll tear your throat out, hm?”

“Fuck you.” You snarl. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not going to let you violate your own autonomy and boundaries to prove a point, you supercilious son of a—“

“You’re the one taking it off.” Simon interrupts.

“You’re insane.”

“If you’re not going underground to wait this out, I’m gonna be living in your fucking shadow, sweetheart, breathing in your every exhale, and I can’t do that when all they know me for is the mask. The next person to so much as look at you sideways is going to die, slow and bloody, and my face is going to be the last thing they see.”

Your next inhale is shaky. Simon, sensing blood in the water, goes for the kill.

“Either you can look me in the face, acknowledge what you’re dooming anyone who hurts you to, or you back down.”

Even as you’re swinging a leg over both of Simon’s to situate yourself in his lap, you’re aware of how hideously stupid what you’re doing is.

Bolstered my nothing but bravado and an inkling of curiosity, and with your pulse rabbiting, you slowly pull up his balaclava, revealing his face to you piecemeal; a strong jaw, a bottom-heavy mouth, a patrician nose broken thrice and healed right only twice, whispers of long blonde eyelashes, and brown eyes, dark as bitumen.

On anybody else, the features would be discordant, too much dissonance to be cohesive; on Simon, they work.

His face is arresting, more than handsome; you can’t help but look at him.

His top lip is pulled up into a perpetual snarl on the left by a long deep furrow of scar tissue that starts just under his eye.

There’s a silvery scar about a half-inch long from his hair line, and his cheeks are dotted with faint demarcations; nicks from shrapnel and knifepoint, you assume.

All flat eyes and scarring, this is perhaps this most dangerous Simon has looked to you in a while.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say, referring to both your job and Simon’s unmasking. “I’m not backing down.”

Simon is a big man, and has a surprising amount of heft to him, even when he's not trying.

His hands are large enough that even the love tap to your rump has you tipping into him. Your front is pressed to his, and you're looking up, up, up into his eyes, bearing witness to the way hunger floods them, a hungry kind of dark pouring into his gaze like an oil slick in the Mediterranean Sea.

“And I’m not backing off. Hell or high water, death or desertion; we’re in this together for good now, you and I.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been in the development hell folder of my Google docs for like two months so if it’s shite that’s no longer my problem I’m afraid 😭🙏🏽 thank you for reading! please do not recommend/repost on TikTok.

[fratttymatty]

Straight To The Top

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Holden had always felt like he was stuck. At 28, his life felt like a loop, always the same. He had a decent job in a dull office, a small apartment, and a routine that left him unfulfilled. His world revolved around responsibilities—work, bills, gym visits, and the occasional bar hangout with friends who seemed to be moving forward with their lives, while he stayed in the same place.

Ryan wasn’t unhappy, exactly, but there was a deep-seated dissatisfaction that had been gnawing at him for years. His love life was a mess, and his struggles with his sexuality had always left him feeling isolated. Though he had always identified as gay, he never really felt connected to the gay community. His past relationships had been brief and unsatisfying, leaving him wondering if something was wrong with him. He’d tried to embrace his sexuality, but the truth was, he didn’t fit the stereotypical mold of a "gay guy." His lack of connection with others, both in and out of the queer world, led to endless frustration.

Ryan often thought about starting over. What if he could erase everything and become someone else entirely? Someone confident, successful, and—dare he dream—normal?

It started with a strange email one afternoon. It wasn’t spam. It wasn’t a phishing attempt. It was an offer from a company he’d never heard of: The Rebirth Corporation.

The subject line was simple: "A Chance for a Fresh Start"

The email spoke of a revolutionary service, one that promised to completely transform a person’s life—body, mind, and even sexuality. The process was expensive, but Ryan felt a strange pull. What if this was the chance he had been waiting for? A new life. A new identity. He clicked the link and skimmed through the website. The before-and-after photos were dramatic—people looking younger, healthier, and more confident. Most of the testimonials mentioned how they had completely reinvented themselves, and many even stated they had experienced a shift in their sexual orientation.

For someone like Ryan, who had always felt like an outsider, this seemed like the perfect solution. He could finally break free from his old, unsatisfying life and become the person he had always dreamed of being—someone who could fit in with the popular crowd, maybe even date a hot girl. He’d been tired of his awkward, disconnected self for so long. What did he have to lose?

Ryan booked a consultation. The days that followed were filled with medical screenings, psychological evaluations, and the overwhelming realization that he was about to undergo something radical. The procedure promised to not only reshape his body, but also alter his personality and sexual orientation. It was exactly what he needed, he told himself. No more confusion. No more loneliness. He just wanted to be someone people would look up to—someone who could confidently walk through life and leave his old self behind.

The procedure was intense.

He was led into a sterile, high-tech facility, where the doctors explained that he would be unconscious for several hours as the transformation took place. His body would be reshaped, his mind reprogrammed, and his personality restructured. It wasn’t just about changing his physical appearance—it was about making him into the person he should have been.

As the anesthesia took hold, Ryan’s last thought was that he couldn’t wait to wake up as someone else, someone better.

When Ryan woke up, everything felt... different.

He opened his eyes to a new world, a world where the reflection in the mirror no longer showed him, but someone else entirely. Gone was the scruffy, awkward 28-year-old man. In his place was an 18-year-old high school student with a sleek, athletic build and sharp features. His hair was tousled in a trendy way, his skin clear and glowing. He was taller, fitter, and far more attractive than he had ever been. As he touched his face, his fingers traced the sharp jawline, the chiseled cheekbones. It was almost like looking at a stranger.

His clothes had changed too—no more outdated shirts and jeans. He wore a simple Nike shirt, the logo boldly emblazoned on his chest. His grey sweatpants shorts clung to his newly defined legs, showcasing his athletic build, while his trainers—expensive, sleek, and effortlessly stylish—tied it all together. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was the kind of casual, athletic look that screamed confidence. His outfit screamed that he was a guy who knew how to take care of himself—and had the physique to back it up. It was the kind of outfit that would make any high schooler want to be him, or at least envy him.

But it wasn’t just his body that was different. The transformation went deeper.

Ryan—or whoever he was now—felt something snap inside him. His mind was clearer, sharper, more confident. Gone was the self-doubt that had plagued him for years. He stood straighter, feeling an almost overpowering sense of entitlement.

He wasn’t just physically changed; he was a completely different person now. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Ryan had been a loser—a weak, confused guy who couldn’t even accept his sexuality. The new Ethan was the kind of guy who could walk into a room and demand attention. He was no longer shy or unsure. Now, he was confident. He was in control. He was better than the old Ryan.

Ethan couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in years, he felt like he had the world at his feet.

And then there was something else. His attraction to men—something that had been a constant part of his identity as Ryan—was gone. He didn’t even think about it. In fact, as he started to interact with people in his new life, he realized that he didn’t want to think about men at all. His thoughts were entirely focused on women.

He felt a strange, almost superior sense of self now. The idea of being attracted to men disgusted him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be gay anymore; he felt like it was something beneath him. He wanted to be normal, to be the guy every woman wanted and every guy envied.

In fact, the idea of hanging out with his old friends—many of whom were gay—began to seem distasteful. He wasn’t one of them anymore. Why would he want to be associated with a group that always seemed so… needy? He was done with all that. Ethan Brooks was better than that. He was a straight guy, a guy who could take what he wanted in life.

At school, Ethan quickly became a presence. He was no longer the shy, introverted Ryan who kept to himself. He was a jock, a natural leader with a sharp tongue and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was the guy everyone noticed, the guy who could walk into a room and turn heads without even trying. And he loved it.

He started flirting with girls like it was second nature. He was charming, but with an edge—a kind of cocky arrogance that made him seem untouchable. His confidence wasn’t just alluring; it was commanding.

One girl in particular caught his attention: Amber. She was the epitome of a popular valley girl—blonde, bubbly, and effortlessly beautiful. A cheerleader and a member of the school’s social elite, Amber was used to guys falling all over her. But there was something about Ethan. His confidence, his athletic build, and that aura of cockiness made him irresistible. Amber didn’t waste time on guys who weren’t "top-tier," and Ethan was definitely top-tier now.

Amber, for her part, wasn’t one to waste time with anything "weird." She’d always thought gay people were... well, gross. She didn’t exactly know why, but she just couldn’t understand why guys would ever want to be with other guys. She much preferred the handsome, strong, straight athletes—guys like Ethan, who were popular and secure in their masculinity.

And so, when Ethan began showing interest in her, Amber didn’t hesitate. The fact that he seemed so different—more confident, more arrogant, and a little bit dangerous—was exactly what she loved. She wasn’t shy about flirting with him either.

She sidled up to him one afternoon in the hallway, giving him a big smile. “So, like, you’re totally new around here, huh?” she giggled. “I’m Amber, in case you didn’t know. I’m pretty much the cheerleader around here.”

Ethan flashed her a smirk. “I figured. You’ve got that ‘I’m important’ vibe,” he teased, leaning in close. “But I’m guessing you’re not one to just hang out with anyone, huh?”

Amber raised an eyebrow, tossing her hair. “Nope. You have to be seriously hot and totally straight to make my list.”

Ethan smirked again, his eyes scanning her body briefly. “Good thing I tick all the boxes then.”

Amber grinned, feeling herself blush just a little. She liked his attitude—it was the kind of cocky self-assurance she craved. There was something thrilling about being with a guy who didn’t just want her, but knew he could have her.

As the days went on, Ethan and Amber became inseparable. Amber was drawn to his confidence, and the way he commanded attention without even trying. They started dating, and while Amber enjoyed the idea of being with such a dominant guy, Ethan seemed to grow more and more dismissive of anything or anyone who didn’t fit into his new world.

The more Amber got to know him, the more she noticed his dismissive attitude toward anyone who seemed ��weird,” or “different.” He constantly made offhand remarks about how people should just act “normal,” especially when it came to sexuality.

“Like, I seriously don’t get why anyone would want to be gay,” he said one day while the two of them hung out by his locker. “It’s just... ugh, you know? Like, why would any guy want to be with another guy? I’m just not into that at all.”

Amber nodded in agreement, her mind wandering. “Yeah, totally. It’s just so... gross. I mean, guys are supposed to like girls. That’s normal.”

Ethan laughed, glad to know Amber was on the same page. He liked the idea of being with someone who didn’t question him. Amber was everything he’d ever wanted—straight, pretty, and totally normal.

Ethan and Amber's relationship grew stronger. Ethan’s cocky attitude, combined with his irresistible confidence, made him the center of attention. And Amber, while enjoying his dominance, couldn’t help but feel a little proud. She knew she could change him, shape him into the perfect guy—a straight, athletic guy who was everything she had always dreamed of.

For Ethan, it was simple: He was on top now. He was in control. He had won.

[azure-cherie]

Mini post on ways to gain using the lord of your 11th house

Lord in 1st : showing yourself off , modelling, body art , dancing .

Lord in 2nd : singing, banking , share market .

Lord in 3 rd : mass communication, acting,crafts , any kind of skills, artist .

Lord in 4th : interior design, architecture, anything doorstep .

Lord in 5th : pediatrician, teacher of small kids , divination, astrology , poet .

Lord in 6th : doctor, exorcist , 9-5 jobs , engineering .

Lord in 7th : share market , corporate companies, matrimonial service, gains through marriage.

Lord in 8th : Tarot , astrology, forensic, psychology, anything miscellaneous.

Lord in 9th : Teaching , travelling, spirituality, mediation instructor.

Lord in 10th : offices , any sector involving planning , government.

Lord in 11th : social work , computer engineering, manufacturing industries, social media business.

Lord in 12th : psychic , travel agent , spiritualist , religious leader .

Tell me if you want a detailed reading:) I'll make a post later ;)

Masterlist

Paid services

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone || MV1 {1}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: You ease yourself into Max's life for a job but find it harder to leave than planned. Warnings: criminal activities WC: 2.6k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two

Formula one wasn’t just an expensive sport to race in but it was first and foremost a lucrative business. With hundreds of millions of dollars being invested each year it was no surprise that your services were sought. 

The hooded figure slid a file across the table, the crumbs and sticky residue of beer catching on the cover. “This is the target,” he whispered over the noise of the drunkards left in the bar at this late hour. “Everything we have on him is in there, use it to get close and get into their factory.”

“Why waste time with a relationship?” you questioned as you opened the file and saw the headshot of your target. Not someone you would call classically handsome but there was an appeal to him nonetheless. “Why don’t I just apply for an entry level job and this will be done in a week?”

“For my employer, this isn’t just about their technology, they want his spirit broken too.” He jabbed an angry finger at the portrait.

“Ah,” you chuckled as you closed the file and slipped it into your handbag before rising from the dark booth, “psychological warfare, that I can understand.”

“How do we reach you again?” the stranger asked as he made to follow but you held your hand out for him to stop.

“You don’t, our contact ends here. You know my fee, and you will know when the job is complete.”

“How?”

You rolled your eyes at the stupid the question. “Front page headline, of course.”

There was no denying Monaco was beautiful, but you missed your high rise apartment in New York. The birds eye view of Central Park had become home and it was where you spent most of your time. Corporate espionage was always in demand on Wall Street so it was convenient to live close by despite owning properties all over the world. 

You had spent a week researching your target, reading every article and watching every interview. You knew his mannerisms and his values, what features his ex-girlfriends all shared and why they broke up. You knew his entire history, all so you could manipulate his future. 

Once you had learned everything there was to know about him you had tracked him down to Monaco where he was spending a large portion of the winter season off. That was where the real work began.

Any wig was irritating, no matter how expensive it was, and this was no different as you suppressed the urge to touch the dried glue along the hairline. Up ahead, the target kept pausing on his walk to sign a few autographs and let children have a photo taken with him. 

Unbeknownst to him, all the posters and adverts along the street had been subtly changed so the models held small semblances to you. He wouldn’t actively notice them, but his subconscious would. Over the next week, his brain would recognise your features selling products he was familiar with and trusted, something you were going to use to your advantage when you finally decided to cross paths with him. 

As midnight passed you took a little stroll through the streets lined with mansions and pulled out a tin of cat food. The crinkling of the foil tearing open broke the relatively quiet night in the exclusive community and a few curious cats appeared through the perfectly trimmed hedges. You softly called two Bengals closer, nudging the others aside, before giving them a scratch behind their ears as you put the tin on the ground and earned their trust too. 

“I have a little friend for you,” you whispered as they finished the food and rubbed against your leg, purring happily. You reached into the pouch of your oversized hoodie and carefully woke the kitten you had adopted. He released a small mew at being disturbed but when he noticed the company around him he started to nuzzle around them. “That’s it, get nice and acquainted.”

The lady at the animal shelter had promised that the little guy had come from a big litter and was very friendly around other cats so you were glad she was right as you picked up the rubbish and tossed it in a nearby bin. Giving the trio one last scratch, you lingered on the tabby with a whisper, “I’ll see you soon, Achilles.”

You left the neighbourhood after slotting a missing cat poster with your phone number into the mailboxes along the street and as the three animals disappeared into the hedge together you hoped it wouldn’t be too long before your phone rang. “Bye Sassy, bye Jimmy.”

You were going out of your mind as you lounged around the house waiting. You checked your phone a handful of times per minute, even testing it was working with your burner phone once an hour. It was only as the sun began to set on the second day that the ringtone sang out over the news channel relaying the latest stock market figures. 

You took a deep breath, falling into the character of your alias as you saw the unknown number on the caller ID. “Hello?” You had to hide your grin as you perfected the balance of worry and hope in your voice.

“Uh, hi, is this Madilyn?” a man asked, the Dutch accent one you were familiar with after all the videos you had watched of him. “Your kitten is missing?”

“That’s me, please tell me you have some good news,” you begged softly, pitifully. 

He laughed quietly and you could hear purring close to the phone. “I think he found his way into my home somehow. He is very friendly.”

“I’m so sorry,” you grabbed your keys and helmet off the kitchen side, slamming the door loudly as you left. “We just moved here and I must have left a window open. Where are you so I can come and pick him up?”

He gave you his address and you rushed to thank him before ending the call and throwing your leg over the motorbike you had recently brought, all added to the bill of your latest employer. The roar of the engine drew the attention of the pedestrians out for an evening walk as you raced through the narrow streets and you arrived in his neighbourhood in under a minute.

The wrought iron gate was closed when you pulled up but the front curtain inside the mansion swayed as a dark figure peeked out before it started to swing open. 

By the time you pulled your helmet off and hung it on the handlebars he had already opened the door and you skipped up the steps excited by the sight of Achilles tucked in the crook of his arm. Lights from inside the home spilled out onto the front porch as Jimmy and Sassy padded their way out, brushing up against your shins.

“He looks so cosy,” you said sheepishly as you went to reach for the sleeping Achilles only to pause and pull back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” 

“Max.” He offered his hand instead and you shook it weakly before crouching down to pet his cats. “They like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you said with a smile as you looked up at him and found him staring back intently. “Do I have helmet hair?”

You rushed to your feet, brushing down the strands that might have been messed up and windblown but he shook his head with a small smile. “You look familiar, have we met?”

You stepped closer with a small shake of your head and ran your fingers through Achilles fur, your arm brushing against Max innocently. His eyes followed your touch and you could see him taking the bait like a starving fish, not knowing how close he was to the hook.

“I would definitely remember meeting you,” you said as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away only for them to land on your motorbike. “Is that a Softail?”

“He has a good eye,” you praised as he recognised the same model Harley Davidson as the one he owned. “Do you ride?”

“Not as much as I would like. Unfortunately my one is back home in the Netherlands.”

“I owe you for finding Achilles.” You pulled the key from your leather jacket and dangled it in front of him with a grin, the silver keyring twinkling and catching his attention. He eyed up the figurine of the Trojian Horse, an inside joke you liked to use when on mission because the meaning always went over their heads. “Wanna take her for a spin?”

His hesitancy lasted only a split second since the conditioning of trust that had been instilled subconsciously all week quickly told him there was nothing to worry about. 

He looked down at his casual shirt and shorts he wore, clothes definitely not suitable for riding a motorcycle, before stepping back inside. “Would you like to come in?”

Max didn’t know the mistake he just made or the real reason you smiled the way you did as you stepped over the threshold, your body brushing close to his.

He was already gone: hook, line and sinker, he was yours.

Four Months Later The coffee pot was almost empty and your eyes were bleary as you sat on the sofa watching the live feed on your laptop for the fourth straight hour. The video footage was being recorded as it played and you already had sent a thumb drive full of similar files with the parts and manufacturing plans you had stolen on your last visit with Max to the Red Bull factory in England. This next one should be ready to send in the morning.

It hadn’t been difficult to organise a ‘work’ trip to London during the time Max was going to test some new features they were working on and he practically begged you to visit him since it wasn’t far to Milton Keynes where they were based. You wanted to hate him for making it too easy, for being too trusting and too kind. 

You wanted to hate him for making you feel guilty.

You lived for this job, playing mastermind and dancing the moral lines, and you were very good at it. The world was your stage while you got to write the play, direct the show and be whatever character you wanted to be. But more often than not you found yourself forgetting to be ‘Madilyn’ when you were with Max and realised at some point you were able to be yourself. 

It was a problem, and one you didn’t know how to solve.

That was a lie. You could take the thumb drive down to the post shop and send it before disappearing into the night. Job done, problem solved.

But that would mean never seeing Max again and the truth was you weren’t ready for that.

Achilles padded into the living room and jumped onto your lap, purring as he nudged your hand for a pat. “Don’t get too comfortable, this is just a temporary arrangement,” you said as you scratched his neck. “You wouldn’t like New York anyway. The air smells, the people are rude and there’s no Sassy or Jimmy to play with.”

You were going to miss Monaco when it came time to leave. Everyone had been so friendly and welcoming to this stranger, if only they knew the havoc you had come to wreak on their city.

Your doorbell suddenly rang and you swiped your phone off the coffee table to open the app and saw Max on your front step. You had specifically told him that you were feeling sick so he didn’t come around. He had a race this week and shouldn’t have been taking the risk of going near anyone sick but there he was, a bag of takeaways in his hands.

You cursed to yourself as you closed your laptop and went to open the door just a crack. “Max? What are you doing here?” you asked with a rasping voice. 

He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, aiming to kiss you but you turned your head away so his lips landed on your cheek. 

“I’m sick, you shouldn’t be here. You could catch it too.”

“I don’t care.” He placed the bag on the hall table so his hands were free to cup your face, holding you still as he greeted you with a proper kiss. It was impossible to resist him and your lips parted as you grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer.

He was far too responsible as he stopped you from unbuttoning his shirt, though he didn’t seem too pleased about stopping you from taking things further. “Eat first,” he ordered, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other grabbing the food. 

Max’s season had been off to a terrible start with a third place podium the best he had been able to achieve behind the Ferrari’s who had come back strongly from last year's poor result. The journalists called it a miracle - that the Italian team were able to produce a car to rival Red Bull’s - but really it wasn’t quite that unexplainable. They had inside information thanks to you. 

Despite the stress in his life and the pressure he was feeling from his father to push harder, he still found time for you and a part of you resented him for that, for making it harder to complete the job.

Your laptop on the coffee table kept drawing your attention as you sat down with the chicken noodle soup Max had brought. It was like a ticking time bomb that you couldn’t ignore and everytime Max’s hand passed over it to get a napkin or the remote you felt your heartbeat in your throat. If he opened the lid he would see something you couldn’t explain away so you needed to get him away from it for your own sanity.

“I’m really tired, babe,” you lied as you faked a yawn and Max checked his watch with a frown when he saw how early it was. 

“Maybe we should see a doctor,” he suggested as he pressed his hand to your forehead and mistook the clammy heat as a fever, but it was purely from the stress you were under watching him reach over your laptop yet again for his can of Red Bull.

“A bit of rest is all I need. You don’t need to worry about me, you should be worrying about your race.” You shifted on the couch to face him and saw how relaxed he was with his arm draped across the back of your cushion and Achilles curled up on his lap. “How are you planning on beating Ferrari?”

He shrugged and focused on scratching the tabby between the shoulder blades. “I’ll get the most I can out of the car and it will either be enough to win or it won’t. I can only try my best and avoid making mistakes.”

You curled into his side, hiding your guilty face in his neck as his arm closed around you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered your confession.

“Why?” he laughed softly, “it’s not your fault.”

If only he knew. 

But he could never know.

Click here for part two.

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

I see you've talked about how the Hounds view the Altruists, but how do the our fellow Altruists view the Hounds? :)

Dion

Vantage - The biggest threat by far. Precognitive abilities are already dangerous, and doubly so in the hands of a competent leader.

Surpass - Feels he has her number psychologically to an extent, but also aware that she's now got a real chip on her shoulder about him. Still, hotheads are hotheads.

Enfilade - Competent and professional, not somebody to underestimate.

Portrait - A lesser priority. Shouldn't be ignored, but he's not a heavy hitter and there's no reason to treat him as such.

Arcade - Similar to Surpass, a hothead. His power is also hard-countered by Dion's so yeah.

Phalanx - A good fighter with a versatile power, and importantly has a good grasp on it too. Dangerous.

Mal

Vantage - Precogs gonna precog. Sometimes you can work around those kinds of powers, but it'd be stupid not to take her seriously.

Surpass - Nothing worse than a meathead with super strength. (Thinks considerably worse of her if she hurt Dime)

Enfilade - Honestly don't get why a person like this leaves the DPR. Soldier mentality isn't for independent heroes.

Portrait - Gotta love a trier.

Arcade - Must suck to be the corporate-mandated prettyboy. Always fun to mess with guys like this.

Phalanx - You're dressed up as a knight, fighting people in spandex: why are you taking yourself so seriously?

Wil

Vantage - Respects the guts of going maskless, wary of her capabilities. Harbours some resentment: she's the leader, so she's the reason that downtown got blown up.

Surpass - Kind of scary. That powerset is no joke.

Enfilade - Weirdly reminds them of some of their older punk friends? Which doesn't even make that much sense but oh well.

Portrait - Fond intuitively of artists, but feels that the guy represents lip service to the Hounds helping the wider community.

Arcade - Ugh. Spandex. Really?

Phalanx - The eye to aesthetics would be great if the whole, suit of armour thing didn't completely nullify their power. Hopes not to run into her in a 1v1.

Kay

Vantage - Reallly not comfortable with the idea that her actions can be predicted. Pretty glad that Dime fought her and she didn't have to deal with that.

Surpass - Tough! Really tough! Kind of incredulous that she can handle her even a little.

Enfilade - Who the heck thought it was a good idea to give a superhero a freaking harpoon gun!?

Portrait - He walks the walk more than the others with heroing that isn't just hitting people.

Arcade - Sort of... fun? Getting to banter makes things feel less serious. Interaction between their powers is kinda cool.

Phalanx - Intimidating.

Teddie

Vantage - Know it all.

Surpass - Talks too much.

Enfilade - Tough fighter.

Portrait - Attention seeker.

Arcade - Twink.

Phalanx - Hits like a truck.

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