#failure is more entertaining sometimes

[cepheustarot]

What will attract your future spouse in you?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: I can say that you are already attractive in yourself, you have a beautiful, charming appearance and your charisma attracts people! You are one of those who knows how to start a conversation, always find a topic for him and you can also maintain a dialogue, any topic, you look like an interested interlocutor and your future spouse will immediately notice this in you, he will be very pleased that you are so attentively and enthusiastically participating in a conversation with him. You are a versatile person in yourself, you may have many hobbies or fields of activity, you are one of those who are open to new things and curiously plunges into all the unknown for you. Also your future spouse will be very attracted by your emotionality, you are clearly one of those who has a lively bright speech, who has a bright facial expression, he is attracted by how you vividly react to any details. As I said, you are quite a versatile person who likes to try something new and he will also like it in you. He respects in you that you do not give up after the first failure but try again, try new approaches, methods, he appreciates your diligence and dedication, the desire to achieve your goal. He also respects your ability to adapt to any situation, in this regard you are a flexible person and you react quickly to changes, you know how to adapt to them. You also adjust the dialogue to the form of communication that is convenient for both of you, this also attracts him very much. He generally sees you as the soul of the company, an open and brave person, and he admires and attracts you very much. You can also sometimes playfully flirt and flirt, but at the same time it looks neat and unobtrusive, which warms up interest in you.

Pile 2: Your future spouse is attracted by your maturity, wisdom, and life experience, and you generally look like a knowledgeable person who has achieved a lot in his life. You are also characterized by emotional maturity, you do not worry about any little things and minor reasons, you are calm enough and can keep this calm even in stressful situations; you are not one of those who succumb to panic and emotions, you are exactly the one who is already thinking through a plan of action, how to cope with a difficult task, with a difficult situation, with problems. He respects such personality traits very much, he sees you as a really adult and responsible person! You are also one of those who does not flatter people and does not exaggerate in words, you openly and honestly say your opinion, what you think about people's actions, what you think about this or that person in general — and your future spouse really appreciates your openness, honesty, straightforwardness. At the same time your honest opinion does not offend people, on the contrary, they just respect what you tell them, respect your words, because they can see in you some kind of mentor. Your future spouse is also attracted to the fact that you are easy-going, easily take on something new, you can make decisions quickly and not regret them, in general, this is your speed and attracts him, maybe because you two have the same pace of life, the pace of action! Also he is attracted by your passion for business, you can literally burn with new ideas, your activities, and such dedication to something he admires.

Pile 3: Your future spouse is attracted by the fact that you are a fairly active person who finds it difficult to sit still, you can always figure out how to dispel boredom, what to do, you are never bored. He likes your sense of humor, your jokes really seem funny and funny to him, he feels on the same page with you, he is very comfortable with you. You may also have the feeling that you have known each other for much longer, since in a short time you could really get very close. He is also attracted to the fact that you know how to find a way out of any situation, you know how to resolve any dispute and problem, you know how to find an approach to each person and in general you are one of those who have a ready-made plan for all occasions. He really appreciates your creativity, your non-standard approach to business, perhaps you also tend to think outside the box, you may have a strongly developed lateral thinking. It's also easy for you to study any topic, you literally absorb information like a sponge and you always have something to tell. It's your frankness that attracts him, he likes that you share any thoughts with them whether it's some of your reflections on philosophical topics or funny stories from childhood, or in general a story about how your day went. You know how to present information in such a way that everyone will listen to you attentively and with interest, you can tell a very fascinating story.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[moonsaver]

You're certain your professor hates you.

Dr. Ratio was by no means someone who would go easy on you. His unmatchable merit meant almost unreachable standards of discipline and wit, and that extended a rigorous course with a passing percentage of 3%

You and the very few classmates you've had all were aware about what was to come once you signed up for his classes. Continuous, strict teaching, constant supervision, problems so hard it took days to solve. The worst exams were the open book ones – they lasted days.

At some point, your classmates decided to study together as a strategy. All of you would collectively study like maniacs and it did end up with gratifying results.

At least, for everyone else. Except you.

No matter what you did, your grades plummeted more and more from the previous exams. And Dr. Ratio was no shy of calling you out on it, telling you with a looming stature to meet him after class, the strain in his voice already enough for your blood to run cold.

Somehow, however, everytime after class when you sat down with Dr. Ratio, he seemed agitated, but nothing more. Of course, he didn't go easy on you when it came to pointing out every detail of a mistake on your paper, and that was the worst part you had to tolerate. Afterwards.. he was alright. The condescending tone in his voice as he instructed you to read the reference materials wasn't exactly tolerable, but it was better than being called an idiot, a buffoon, a failure in every language he possibly knew.

Although, what would annoy you even more was your study sessions were confined more and more to his office hours. After a few more failing grades, he would extend the amount of time you'd have to sit across him in the suffocatingly silent, sterile room with only an expanse of books that you occasionally interacted with, and a few necessities.

Every time your hand stopped scribbling, or your eyes stopped scanning the text, he would tap the table with a finger, and ask, "done already?" And you'd immediately continue, replying with a meek, "no". Sometimes if you took a while longer to answer out of hesitance, his sharp gaze would snap to you, looking up from one of his thick books, his reading glasses perched lower so that his eyes peeked out from above the lens. That would be enough to snap you from your trance, and get back to writing frantically.

But the arrangement was fine. Until he started getting uncomfortably closer.

Sometimes, he decides watching your eyebrows furrow in frustration is much more entertaining of a pastime during his break to rest his eyes. His office chair creaks a bit as he leans forward, his elbows perched on the desk, resting his chin on intertwined fingers. This was arguably more intimidating to you – his gaze was unimaginably heavy. And you're sure he's aware of it too – his eyes watch the obvious trembling of the pen in your hands, and the tensing of your jaw, as the realisation he's observing you thoroughly flashes in your eyes.

If you weren't so exhausted after taking your leave,you would have at least had the energy to think he was.. enjoying your discomfort.

And things only got worse from there. Sometimes he decides getting up from his chair and looming intimidatingly from behind you is better. At times, he leans down, too close for comfort, his breathing hitting the shell of your ears as you feel his eyes scan your work, and you. Sometimes, a waft of his scent hits your nose. You're sure he can smell yours, too.

In this position, it only gets worse. His arm sometimes rests across your back and his hand hangs firmly on your shoulder, his other hand pointing out a mistake you've made, and moves your writing hand to the exact spot. His condescending voice practically reverberates through you, his warm breath mixing with the cool air around your ear, making you flinch if you're caught off guard. You can only hope his observant gaze didn't see it.

Unfortunately, as helpful as the after-class lessons are, it seems it's not successful enough to get you to pass his course.

At some point, you're in his office almost late in the evening, the entire vicinity is devoid of people, echoes of usually quiet machinery are heard in the hallway. You sit across from him, head hanging from shame, and dread. He sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, folding his legs.

He'll have to try.. other methods.

[skylinesnsunshines]

pac: the person you are becoming in a year (TIMELESS) -`♡´-

hi everyone! im back again for a 2nd pac for you all <3 the response from my 1st pac was so amazing so thank you all for supporting me. i no longer feel motivated to do readings for celebrities but i won't be entirely opposed to doing them, i'll just be more selective on who i'm reading and what i'm reading about. any requests for pac topics will be much appreciated! thank you everyone :3

disclaimer: all for entertainment purposes only, free will exists and energies are subject to change. if it doesn't resonate then it might not be the pile or reading for you. remember that this is a general reading, so i'm channelling the energy of the majority, not a specific individual.

(italicised is the card on the bottom of the tarot deck which is meant to represent the subconscious/blind spot of the situation + rx means reversed)

photo cr: pinterest | dividers | personal readings | tips

PILE 1 -> PILE 2

PILE 3 -> PILE 4

pile 1 ~ 4 of cups, 3 of swords, 9 of wands rx, the moon

okay so i want to reiterate that you have free will and i am just the messenger, so you don't have to claim this if this doesn't resonate. i feel a sense of rigidity with your energy cause i keep seeing an image of someone trying to bend steel and clearly failing. you may be running away or avoiding a certain situation due to it not aligning with your life plan. some of you might have virgo placements as well, cause i keep hearing that you "have an image to upkeep" and deviating from your plan will cause you a lot of anxiety. you may struggle with being okay with the unknown, which leads you to constantly seek reassurance from others or tangible things (e.g achievements). The main message I'm getting from this is to surrender, which is easier said than done but once you let go of certain expectations you will be reborn and no longer feel the dread of past situations that haunt you. you might be unhappy with your progress over the year, but remember that consistency matters most and you can't keep moving forward on a foundation that is easily shaken. i keep hearing longevity, which makes sense why you might feel frustrated about not moving at the pace you hope for because whatever skill or resource you are building will follow you throughout your life. i also get reminded of chappell roan, as many people are referring to her journey with the phrase "sometimes it takes 10 years to become an overnight success". i do think that this next year, you will be focusing on your healing and learning to let go of anxieties regarding your self-perception. now, the moon on the bottom of the spread tells me that the person you are becoming in a year is still hidden, mainly due to the choice that you have when it comes to your growth. there will be a lot of truths regarding yourself and the people around you that will help you elevate into the best version of yourselves. spirit's encouraging you to embrace the unknown, and be aware of the power that you hold within yourself. you have autonomy and are the deciding factor on the outcome of your future, the universe is here to encourage and support you into the person you want to become.

i know the tarot was a bit gloomy, but the oracles actually show lots of success and strength that you will find within yourself. the valley card depicts a situation where whatever the universe throws at you, your resilience perseveres as you have more resilience than you give yourself credit for. i love the panther card, as it encourages you to explore the unknown and to not limit yourself on the preconceived outcomes that you may envision for yourself. this card is encouraging you to embrace fluidity and limit the need to control on how it will unfold. a situation that you may perceive to be a failure today could be what leads you to unfathomable success in the future. the unicorn card also encourages you to embrace the unknown, you are destined for great things and it's important to learn to trust the universe. believe that things are unravelling for you behind the scenes and that you don't always need tangible things to measure your growth/success. it's important to remember that your path should not be compared to anyone else's and placing certain beliefs limits the outcomes of the person you want to be.

oracle cards ~ valley: deep personal strength and peace that assure success. 22 panther: no expectations. unicorn.

channelled song ~ one step at a time by jordin sparks

pile 2 ~ 8 of swords, 9 of swords, page of pentacles rx, judgement rx

this spread tells me that this year will teach you how to stand on your own, and uproot beliefs that no longer serve you. you might be someone who experiences a lot of racing thoughts, and you might struggle to manage them. i feel that within a year, you will learn to manage those thoughts and learn to trust your intuition more than your anxieties. you will learn to separate those two patterns for you to have a guide on what/who to trust. i'm sensing you might be someone who often sees past the surface and your innate gift is the gift of knowing, but it often frustrates you when you don't see movement in your physical reality or when it doesn't align with your vision. spirit's reminding you that you are so powerful, but you need to learn to let go of those feelings of always needing to know, we as humans living in this reality aren't meant to know everything as life is meant to be experienced and lived rather than entirely orchestrated. i'm hearing that in a year you will learn to embrace the unknown and make decisions based on how you feel rather than what you think. i think you could be extremely sensitive to energies (twin!) and you're being taught to really practice trusting yourself and your gut even if you see it isn't logical. you have so much inner knowing or guidance but oftentimes need someone else or physical evidence to validate your intuition, and the universe is saying it doesn't always work like that. the universe is asking you to look within and build a stronger connection with your inner guidance system and believe that you truly know best. the universe is reminding you to operate from a place of gratitude and trusting even in things that you don't believe other people will understand. this is a never-ending journey and within a year it'll be only the beginning of you living your most authentic life.

the boat card details the possibility of receiving a gift or monetary help through your environment. you could be enrolling in a competition in which you succeeded at or experiencing your luck through help from another individual. the eagle describes someone who is meant to be the light-bringer in the darkness of life. while it's important to say that this is not your sole identity, it aims to help you acknowledge your unique vision and honour your inner knowing to help embrace its unique energy. you might have been struggling to "fit in", but the spirit's saying that that's not your path and you are meant to stand out to inspire others. while everyone brings a unique trait to the table, your trait is to understand your light and not dim it for anyone's sake. honour your gift by embracing beliefs that resonate with your authentic self and bringing them to the world to show that not everything needs to be full of doom and gloom. crow energy is incredibly potent, and it is often a symbol of the occult as crows often embody a meaning when it shows up in people's lives. while this meaning is often deemed as negative, people misunderstand the crow as crow energy can only be understood with a clear mind. this reiterates the point of trusting your inner guidance, and also listening to your body when it comes to different experiences (eating a new food, making a new friend, etc.). crows are often misunderstood, but the universe is reminding you to have faith in your vision and that you are your greatest ally.

oracle cards ~ boat: money or property through an inheritance, winning or windfall. 30 eagle: you are more. crow.

channelled song ~ talk to me nicely by blxst

pile 3 ~ the fool, the hierophant, strength rx, 8 of cups

a new version of yourself will emerge in a year, representing stability and authority. you will have a new beginning, whether in your career, love life, or personal life. spirit wants to remind you to embrace your wisdom and share your gift of communication, as i feel that in a year people will feel called to ask for your guidance more. i also noticed that your spread has the colours orange, red and yellow so they might be important colours. since this will be a new experience, you might feel uncomfortable/unsure of your capabilities, but spirit's encouraging you to find a silver lining as this will test your resilience and self-assurance. by next year you will release a lot of the restrictions that you have placed on yourself, and feel that you will find a newfound level of strength when it comes to your resilience/willpower. i do think that initially, it will feel difficult for you to accept that you've grown cause i see resistance, but you'll eventually shed those feelings of tension and wholeheartedly accept the new change coming in. this spread could also indicate that if you are in a relationship, in a year the relationship may be elevated commitment-wise. within a year you will be someone who will be looked at with a lot of wisdom, and how people will look at you with amazement as you feel like you are trudging your own path. i feel that there will be a new sense of yourself that will emerge that puts you in a position of influence, wether that'd be in your personal or professional life. i see you as a really humble individual, and that you are sometimes even unaware of the strength that you possess. while humility is one of your greatest traits, it's also encouraging you to be more comfortable with being acknowledged and given your flowers. learning how to be confident authentically in yourself and your abilities is something that you could be experiencing. spirit's also hoping to bring your attention to a "lack" mindset that you might operate on. i don't see this as a bad thing though, as this lack seems to stem from the hunger and desire to always do better and be the best. your determination is what makes you special, but it's also encouraging you to sometimes stop and smell the flowers as you can sometimes feel that once you achieve something it's time to set your sights on achieving the next. spirit's encouraging you to pat yourself on the back and practice gratitude, as oftentimes your feelings of lack can sometimes disrupt your ability to be present in reality. overall, the experiences you will have within a year will shape you greatly with 3 major arcanas coming out, and spirit's saying that you are so deserving but to also remember to celebrate yourself and your achievements.

again the tulip card touches on the romantic aspect as it signifies great passion. so within a year, you might feel a new sense of passion reignited with another person, if that doesn't resonate, it could be a new passion for your creations or hobbies or even work. the antelope is encouraging you to be more mindful of your intention through movement to release any pent-up emotions you might have. on days when you feel it's difficult, it's encouraging you to move by not letting your circumstances fully dictate your worth. you are smarter than you give credit for, and you inherently know how to bounce back from difficulties. it's reminding you to move and trust yourself/your body to help you get through difficult periods. the first thing i notice from the eagle card is how eagles fly alone and at high altitudes, and that in a year you will embody the bravery of the eagle by learning and accepting your true self and trusting the path that you're on. you might lose some people along the way, but you've learned to be good on your own. i see for those of you who are manifesting a relationship as well, this frequency will help you attract a stable/secure relationship.

oracle cards ~ tulip: great passion. 27 antelope: shake, release, heal, move on. eagle.

channelled song ~ priorities by tyla

pile 4 ~ 10 of wands, temperance rx, 6 of pentacles, queen of swords rx

my pile 4's, you seem to be the provider group. you might have many burdens due to your self-perception/upbringing/environment. people look to you to provide whether that'd be financially, emotionally, with your time, etc. (this could also be cause you're financing yourself). i see that you might be the type of person to keep to yourself when going through hardship, that could be because your environment is difficult and it's encouraged you to develop a mentality of "trudging it out". i'm seeing someone who has a wound on their back/the back of their head and is unaware of how big the wound is because you need to keep the show going. everyone around you is asking you "are you ok?" and your response is always "i'm fine, keep going" and while your resilience is admirable, it's worrying to them given that they're able to see how clear the wound is. spirit's encouraging you to not keep to yourself and share the burden, as i can see that there is a lack of vulnerability you share with others. one of my favourite sayings i learned recently is that "shared sorrow is half a sorrow, and shared joy is a double joy", and i feel that this saying could be relevant to what you're currently going through. i'm hearing that in a year, you will learn to shed those beliefs of thinking that you're a burden and that you will learn to incorporate more balance in your life. these experiences will help you cultivate the skill of expressing your feelings and emotions coherently, also improving your mind/body connection. i feel that you have a lot to give to others, whether that'd be time, wisdom, or even loyalty but you might feel that since it's not tangible or physical you don't have much to contribute. for that i say, those around you who get to experience the most vulnerable parts of you see you as an even stronger person, because you also inspire them to undergo the same transformation.

you could meet a person within a year that helps you undergo this transformation, or be the catalyst of that change. it could come out of the blue and take you by surprise, but their energy seems so delightful that i feel like over time your friendship or relationship with them will flourish. the phoenix card tells the story of a transformation and reminds you that your current reality does not define what you will experience ahead. i see you shedding beliefs that ultimately don't serve you, and truly help you become the person you see as your best. i'm feeling a need for control with this group, so the buffalo also reminds that setbacks are an opportunity for upliftment. although it is natural to want to grieve and feel your emotions, it's reminding you to not sit in that energy for too long because of your resilience. you have gone through your hardest days and will continue to do so as you will experience days filled with happiness and fulfilment that reflect on the work you put in yourself.

oracle cards ~ handshake: a meeting with a stranger could be important. 42 phoenix: transformation. buffalo.

channelled song ~ the fighter - gym class heroes ft ryan tedder

so that’s it for the reading! let me know if it resonated and if you have any feedback, questions or requests! my ask box is always open for a chat as well <3 sending you love and light always :) hope you enjoyed it!

[kittencomicslol]

Gyutaro x Artist but gyutaro is their Main Muse and they just lobe drawing or sketching him!

Gyutaro x Artist! Reader headcanons :3

______

LOVEEEE THIS IDEA UGHHH I LOVE DRAWING HIM SO BAD HE IS SO COOL AND BEAUTIFUL ❤️❤️❤️

His body is so so cool and I love drawing it and writing about it gyah he’s so cool.. you will definitely hear my rambles and interest in his funky little critter body in this.

Only possible tw would be Gyutaro struggling w why anyone would find him pretty but that’s a given so yah

I’m so sorry this took me a long time to put out, I know I say this like every blue moon I post but my life is fr crazy �� it’s getting better tho. I just do these for fun and comfort and i appreciate prompts/requests for when I’m in the need to relax and write about my favorite little guy

•Gyutaro has not a single clue why you seem to be so infatuated with creating art of specifically him

“The entertainment district has so many unique pretty people in it, those who are leaps and bounds more handsome than he is. So why him?

•At first he was even angry to think you would try to gaze upon him in an artistic light before anyone else. He was hideous, he didn’t deserve to be drawn or painted.

•But you didn’t seem to think so

•He would never admit it and prefer to only display his annoyance, but he really was flattered the first few times.

•When you asked to draw him he laughed, because why would you want to do such a thing? He thought you were joking. You were in the entertainment district, a place with some of the most beautiful people in all of Japan!

•But yet.. you insisted on doting upon his hideous form and praising his appearance. showering him with gifts from your natural talent of creativity and your dedication to craft.

•Of course he was envious at first.. of course you were talented. beautiful, nice, and talented. He hated all of those things.

•But he didn’t hate you.

•Gyutaro would unconsciously be annoyed due to thinking your artistic ability is natural born talent. It wasn’t fair how so many humans were blessed with those gifts while he himself seemed to only be cursed with suffering and imperfections.

•Though, after watching you work and create so many different pieces even he himself was able to notice how subtly you improved or when you messed up.

•And of course he noticed because no matter if he would express it or not at first, he adored you making art of him.

•Gyutaro was naturally a very attentive demon. The man grew up on the streets racked with danger and disease. Such living conditions were a constant battle to survive and in order to do so, he needed to be aware of his surroundings.

•His nature to pick up on smaller things only intensified when Ume was born because now he was watching over her, and he deemed her life as bounds more valuable than his own.

•He loved seeing you fail or mess up at your art.. and it wasn’t in an exactly sadistic or crude way like he would feel when seeing others fail. With you, it felt like he was watching you learn and grow. He was witnessing your failure and proof that your talent wasn’t natural, You had to work for it. And something about that struck a chord in him.

•Embarrassment was always a very common emotion for him to express when you asked for a better look at him.

•’I want to see your back better, I need to see the way your spine curves.’

•‘Let me see you up close so I can get your birthmarks right’

•‘Can you show me your hand?’

•Every single little question you asked always gave him butterflies, both from nerves and him becoming flustered.

•But over time as you two bonded; he became much more comfortable with sharing his body with you.

•His small crude comments about how ‘pointless’ your art of him was gradually turned into quiet mumbles of appreciation or gentle praise.

•Sometimes, if you get lucky he will allow you to touch him. Trailing your hand down his odd protruding spine, or delicately brushing your fingers over his ribs that were barely covered by his skin.

•One time he even let you feel his stomach.. if you could even call it that, and where his abs were just to see how his strange anatomy worked. That interaction didn’t last for long as he got far too flustered and anxious to let you continue, but it was still fascinating nonetheless.

•Gyutaro was almost constantly put off but your compliments about the parts of his body he hated the most.

•His disgusting marks? They were pretty, and looked like paint on a canvas to you.

•His visible ribs? They were unique, a wonderful oddity.

•His crooked spine? One of your ‘favorite parts’ of him to draw

•His bloodshot down turned eyes? They looked like gemstones to you, sparkled like the stars.

•It was like any aspect he found repulsive about himself, you saw it the exact opposite.

•There was one small interaction Gyutaro didn’t think he would ever forget, something that touched him in a way he had never felt before

•It was common for you to show Gyutaro new drawings you made of him.. working as Daki’s artist you only had so much time to ever gift him with full pieces.

•Not that he cared, at this point if you gave him a stick figure and said it was him he would be grateful you even thought of him.

•Perhaps that was only because of your close bond.. if another human did that things probably wouldn’t go so sweetly.

•He wished he had a better place to keep such cherished things though all he had was the little cave where him and Daki stored food and skeletons.

•Nevertheless, you liked to doodle him a lot in quick sketches that you almost always displayed to him. Usually you came to sit with him when you would draw him to get reference for something about his ghoulish unnatural form, especially for his birthmarks. He had so many he was used to you coming in with near finished drawings that still needed reference for where his spots were.

•Eventually, you stopped asking for such things and it almost made him sad. Did you just loose interest?.. he wouldn’t blame you, he was hideous.

•Of course that was him being overly negative and unrealistic. You still frequently showed him art you created of him, so he had no reason to think that. But he usually wasn’t very logical when it came to thoughts about his own body..

•One night the two of you ended up in the same room together for a while, Gyutaro glancing over to you for a moment..

•”(Y/N)..”

•He croaked out your name in his broken voice that you never seemed to comment on. Almost instantly you raised your head and turned all of your attention onto Gyutaro

•“Hm?”

*The demon let out a small huff. He felt pathetic asking something like this. He was an upper moon demon, he shouldn’t care.

•“Why did.. why did you stop visiting me whenever you draw?”

• he forced out, letting out a small sigh as soon as he did. He had to use restraint to hold himself back from hiding his face in his palms

•But instead of ignoring him or saying you got sick of looking at his ugly face, you chuckled.

•”Taro, I’ve drawn you so many times I already know what you look like. I even have your marks memorized.”

•He went quiet, his face flushing a crimson hue from your response. There was just.. no way. You couldn’t be real. What had he done to deserve you?..

•”Oh..”

•Was all he was able to manage out, too flustered and dumbfounded to come up with a proper response.

•If he wasn’t in love with you enough before, he was far past head over heels by now.

•The concept of abstract art interested him as well, and he would always be very grateful whenever you would explain how some people found deep interest in things that looked.. less than appealing.

•One of Gyutaro’s favorite small details he always picked up on was in your doodles of him.

•Sometimes you liked to add something extra onto your work to make it more lively, and whenever you did that with him it would always be little hearts around him.

•Things so small yet so meaningful were things he had always loved, and this was definitely no exception.

•When you displayed your art to others you could never exactly display him.. though you sometimes added little details that you knew he would notice

•Little black splotches around the canvas akin to his marks, small Kanji for the number six sometimes appearing.

•He knew you couldn’t exactly ‘show him off’ and he knew you probably wouldn’t want to if you could.. but even so, seeing you do something that still counted as showing him off meant a lot.

•Even if nobody else noticed or knew, he did.

•He noticed all of the little details, the stray lines, the mistakes. Every little thing about your art he adored

•The same way he adored you.

————

WAAA!! I wrote most of this months ago at like 12AM and I am astounded that it actually held up and I didn’t have to completly re-write it. Just finished it up

[shamixlour]

The Bear - 3x10

This scene was a masterpiece and obviously horrendously tragic at the same time and that for multiple reasons. 

For a little context, we're at EVER restaurant, funeral diner, everyone is having lots of fun and we get a glimpse of Sydney in the middle of her peers. She fits perfectly in, participates in the conversations, entertains and definitely grasps the heart of the people around the table AND YET you have Carmy totally absent. He is the one who invited her and he is not present, he is not here. Instead, he keeps staring down at his old chef two tables away. He keeps staring, dissociates himself completely from his environment and doesn’t interact at all with his old cuisine acquaintances. At first, no one really pays attention or at least you are pushed to think so until Luca asks him if he’s okay and remarks that Carmys is staring. Sydney finds an opportunity in this to ask herself and note that he is indeed staring and wonders who he is staring at. Carmy, eyes still locked on the Chef David Fields from Empire tells them and this is the only moment he interacts with the people around him. Right then and he starts painting the Chef’s portrait to Luca and Sydney.

Carmy : He's the fucking worst and one of the best Chefs in the world. Luca: Well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world. Carmy: Total prick. Fuckface. The bastard made me very, probably mentally ill. Dead inside. Cold. Never turns it off. Accomplishes more by 10am than most people do in a lifetime. Sydney: "looks over Carmy gravely" Carmy: I don't think he sleeps. I don't think he eats. I don't think he loves. He hates black pepper for some reason I will never understand and he is getting up. Luca: Carm. Carmy. Sydney: Carm. Carmen.

The thing is, each word Carmy uses to define that Chef Fields is, imho, just another adjective to describe who Carmy is as a Chef himself.

I hated that moment. I did not like hearing him describe that man because with each syllables that split through his mouth, I realised that the person Carmy was supposedly describing, that horrible, vicious, toxic, controlling and overly awful Chef that had no heart, no empathy, no source of humanity left in him and destroyed him was in fact Carmy himself.

I felt like he was describing himself and it broke my heart because truly, what he showed of himself in the Bear’s kitchen this season 3 was just that. 

A cold, controlling, harsh and judgmental Chef. 

Someone that would not hesitate to crumble the ounce of confidence left in you (poor Tina) if you don’t meet his standard. Someone who would not respect you if you don’t reach his fucking stupid non negotiables. Someone who would say snarky comments at you, sometimes full of disdain and haughty, implying that he is better than you. 

That is because I am better than you. That is because I have more skills. That is because you’re not good enough, you’re not excellent enough, you are not like me.

Carmy said shouted that to everyone throughout season 3. He did not care and that regardless of the history between them, regardless of the obvious efforts of the past, of the growth of each person in that kicthen. He did not give a single fuck of the looks of panic, of the shaking voice of Tina, of the dead glare of Sydney, of the feelings of distress.

No, Carmy was cold.  He was just cold. A total prick. A fuckface. Demanding. Hard. Full of himself despite his failures. Arrogant and condescending. Ready to crush you mentally if you don't meet his expectations. He did not care. He did not sleep. He did not love.

That was Carmy of season 3 and I hated it.

I despised hearing him describe that Chef, watching him stand up and run after that man to tell him fuck you when Carmy became exactly fucking THAT. It was so tragic and sad and SO fucking hypocritical at the same time and I fear that Carmy was slightly aware, deep down within him. He knows what that man says to him is true, maybe he even knows the monster he described to Syd and Luca was himself and maybe that is why he cries in that corridor because Chef Fields confirms that to him in a way.

I made you excellent. I made you. You became me. One of the best chefs in the world. We are the same so you are welcome.

Carmy was okay. He left excellent but at what price?

-

I also wanna point out something during Carmy's depreciating monologue regarding Chef Fields. Not only Sydney stared at him gravely all along, the words resonating maybe a bit too much but also Luca said something I found interesting.

He said "well, he used to be one of the best chefs in the world." and I could not dissociate this from Carmy himself, from him maybe not being one of the best chefs in the world either if he continues like that, if he doesn't step away from the Chef he is now, if he doesn't go back to a track where he wants to get better, where he listens, teach and love and eat and sleeps and is alive.

-

If you read all of this, heart on you <3 let me know your thoughts, future meta about ep 3 is coming soon hehe~

[ihaveverything]

Limitless manifesting for beginners

part I - basic concepts

part II - states, techniques, change

part III - mental diet, sats

ʚ part IV - daily life, time

part V - resistance, faith, the ''real'' world

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Daily life

The “hard” part of manifesting is not knowing where to get information. There are plenty of resources on the internet to help you get a decent understanding on the Law, as well as original work from source teachers like Neville. A fairly common issue is overconsumption of content, leading to having a jumbled mess of info and confusion on how to go about your daily life. It’s understandable to feel lost, so I will break it down as simply as possible.

You are always being someone. Let’s say you’re manifesting an SP. We know that you cannot occupy two states at once, therefore you’re either in lack or you’re in fulfillment. When you think about your desire (SP or anything else), notice where your mind goes. What thoughts do you have? How are you feeling? What do you know to be true as of this moment? An example of a lack state while manifesting would be thoughts like “I do not have my SP”, “I wish they were here”, “I want to reach out”, “I hope they haven’t forgotten about me”, and feeling rejected, apathy, guilt, fear, etc. Basically knowing they aren’t yours right now. The emotional reactions and intensity of negative thoughts you get may vary from person to person, but the common factor in lack is always the knowing that your desire isn’t here.

A more positive mental diet would be automatically making the choice that you feel as though you have something each time you think of it. It’s as simple as:

Step 1: Identify your desire, I want X.

Step 2: I have it. (Making this choice by utilizing the feeling of having it, this can be attained through techniques or merely a simple decision)

Step 3: Rinse and repeat

I often suggest people make examples out of negative things in order to understand how the positive might look. When you see something unfavorable in the 3D, what is your immediate reaction? Was there any strain or resistance to assuming or fearing the worst? Probably not. Your thoughts, feelings, and reactions will always be aligned with your dominant state. Your only job is to change your dominant dwelling state by entertaining the positive instead of lack. Manifesting is consciously guiding your mind towards where it needs to be, repeatedly making a firm decision that you are something right now, knowing that your desire being unseen right now does not mean it’s non-existent, but it is yours no matter what.

Manifesting is actually much simpler than it seems. Aim to become the person within, and you will see without. Change your 4D, and your 3D will follow. Live your life feeling like the person who has your desires until that state is dominant.

Time

Everyone wants their desires fast, which is completely understandable. It’d be a disappointment if desires had to take an absurdly long time to show up. Many people will say that it’s not good to think about time, because it pulls you away from living in the end, and you focus on the process, which is true. However, it’s also beneficial to acknowledge how time in manifestation works, so that people can have more faith. Like always, your biggest improvements will always come from your own experience and application of the Law, but sometimes knowing why things don’t have to take months or years to reflect is helpful to people’s faith in going all in.

“The time it takes your assumption to become fact, your desire to be fulfilled, is directly proportionate to the naturalness of your feeling of already being what you want to be – of already having what you desire. The fact that it does not feel natural to you to be what you imagine yourself to be is the secret of your failure.” – Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

The time it takes to manifest something depends on how natural your state of awareness is. The state of the wish fulfilled is basically you identifying with a different probable reality where your desire is already yours, and you are utilizing feeling to make that decision to occupy a different state.

We live in a world that is expressed in 3 dimensions. A 4th dimension would be adding on the concept of time, but this does not mean that time is linear. It doesn’t flow in a straight line from birth to death. There have been many scientific studies on the theory that the past, present and future may exist simultaneously. Life could be compared to a movie, because you are watching (experiencing) one scene (event) at a time, but all scenes (events) exist in the present. Just because you are watching the famous deck scene from the Titanic movie right now, it does not mean the ending credits of that movie don’t exist. Creation is finished as a spirituality concept explains that all infinite probable versions of yourself, others, and realities already exist in the present. Every moment of the day we are experiencing a frame, and we move through these frames smoothly enough to maintain a sense of reality and balance so it doesn’t seem like we’re glitching through life, but every event you want to experience is already an existing thing. That’s what people mean by “it is done”. By identifying with an alternate probable version of yourself and whatever you want to manifest, you are selecting a different reality to experience. No circumstance or anything in the 3d can change an existing reality. If that reality already exists right now, then there’s no such thing as the universe acting like a factory and somehow manufacturing and remaking your circumstances so that they align with your new identity. It’s not a process of creation. It’s not a 2 month process for your person to conform, or a 7 month process for you to become wealthy. The version of you that is in a loving relationship already there, your money is already there, etc.

Make your state natural. When I say you can get your stuff fast with discipline, I do not mean that you need to affirm 10k times a day or visualize 500 times and “saturate” your mind to the point of being burnt out. It doesn’t have to be that hard. The discipline is only entertaining the states that align with having your desire, and not returning to lack. If you can just be 1 version of yourself, and stop jumping back and forth between 2 contradictory identities, then your dominant beliefs and state will change. This should be simple to understand because habits stick easier when you're only moving forward without taking a few steps back every couple of hours or even minutes. When you’ve made your new state completely natural, meaning your beliefs have truly changed (not just you think they’ve changed because you’re in a decent mood today), your desires will reflect fairly quickly. Additionally, for the people who spent months or even years to gain success, they were most likely wavering during that time. The solid chunk of time where they were fully committed to a disciplined mental diet and had conviction / faith was most certainly nowhere near that long. It was probably much shorter.

When people express disbelief in faster manifestations, it’s evident they believe things will take time, perhaps the “bigger” things take more time, or manifestation itself is a completely unpredictable process of blind faith. Knowing things can happen fast is not controlling. It’s not setting a time limit on yourself either, because anyone who has truly manifested something in days will know that when asked about their success, the first thing that comes to mind is definitely not “I wanted my stuff fast, so I tried to control the time”. How fast you get your desires should not be the focus of your attention in any case; people can feel free to be motivated with buying the Pearl of Great Price with the Law since there is a possibility of success being right around the corner. Above all, Neville and Seth have said that most desires do not take over 30-40 days to see significant movement or even reach the full manifestation. Proper mental dieting will give you results within a reasonable amount of time, so there’s no need to wait in impatience and fear for months or years.

source tba

[shady-tavern]

Paint the Town

(warnings ahead for semi-graphic violence, mentioned and implied death, as well as implied suicidal ideation from a side character, please be sure to take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

Part One: Woe to the People of Order

*.*.*

Cameras flashed to a blinding degree, journalists cramped together in numerous seats, leaning forward like a hungry sea, wanting to drag all the heroes within sight under the surface. To peel back every layer until they could unearth secrets and unspoken thoughts, all the things they could use for their next headline, their next big hit to sell millions of papers to impressionable people. 

To people who wanted to see heroes fall as much as they wanted to see them rise.

'The press is not your friend', Olivia's mentor had told her on her first day as a sidekick, the two of them getting ready for their first patrol. She remembered that she had been so nervous her mentor had to help her into her gear. 'Never make the mistake of thinking otherwise. Failure is more delicious to them than success.'

It was one of three lessons that had saved Olivia's hide more times than she could count. Journalists and paparazzi could be quite charming, quite friendly, they had different tactics for different heroes, trying to weasel statements or just a wayward word out of them. Even a hero's silence was something to be used.

They wanted anything and everything they could use in an article, even if they took things fully out of context. Even if they hounded tired and exhausted and often hurt heroes into having outbursts that later made them look unstable and aggressive to the public eye.

Inevitably, there would always be an official apology issued by the hero and their PR manager. Promises to be better and apologies that were not always necessary, gifted to a public that was as mercurial as a bored god looking for entertainment. Or like a hungry, petty little beast that delighted in seeing people struggle in order to make their own, messy lives look prettier.

'I would never make that mistake', they'd say, like they were better, like they didn't have bad days. Mean days. Terrible days. 'You'd really think someone in the public eye had thicker skin.'

Olivia was a little slumped back in her chair, knowing she was only here to show her face since PR was going to do their level best to ensure she would not have to open her mouth. She had made them regret signing her up for interviews until they had stopped, but they couldn't keep her out of the public either.

Not when she was the Number One of the heroes.

One of the younger, rising heroes beside her was downright shining with the attention of the press and his eagerness to do well, to inspire others and promise that he was going to do his best to keep everyone safe.

The press was eating it up. They loved a shiny new star they could polish up, only to later decide just what to do with that shine. Tarnish it? Put pressure on it until it dimmed and vanished? Or were they going to watch it crack under the pressure, shattering into so many pieces not even a champion puzzler could put it back together?

Another journalist was called on for a question and considering the way the guy turned to Olivia, she could tell immediately that he was going to direct his question at her. 

Journalists did that sometimes, going against previous agreements about sticking to certain questions and scripts, to certain heroes, just to speak to her and while asking her anything got them kicked out, they usually left with a new headline in their pocket.

She lived to serve the people, after all, didn't she?

"Rescue," the man said and Olivia saw the PR agent downright lunge for one of the microphones in front of the group of heroes to interrupt, but she was a tad too slow. "Do you have any advice for young and aspiring heroes?"

A rather innocent question and Olivia saw the agent pause, thinking it harmless enough. Olivia was more than aware of the other heroes glancing at her, the older ones with quelling glances and the young and energetic ones eager and hopeful.

The young heroes wanted tips on how to rise, on how to be better. They wanted to soak up the shine they thought she had, as if it hadn't dimmed and cracked and grown ugly and tarnished along the edges over the years. They wanted to be like her.

She had been like that once and while a part of her hesitated, years old but child-young at its heart, she had long since stopped being soft. Had stopped being...kind.

"Get ready to bury your friends," she answered, calm and hard and true and the PR agent reached for her microphone again with a subtle motion for her to stop, but Olivia continued, "Don't let the glam fool you, villains will do their best to break you."

"I'm afraid that's all the time we have today," the agent spoke up, gripping the microphone tighter. "Please turn to Sunshine for a parting bit of wisdom!"

Sunshine was one of the oldest heroes in the business and Olivia knew of the pills he had to swallow on a daily basis to combat his chronic pain from countless injuries sustained in his career and the anxiety attacks he had. 

The agency refused to let him retire, he was still one of their best ones and a great motivator for all the older folk to pursue their dreams – and spend money on the agency. He brought in a generous amount of cash with his hero merch and meet-n-greets.

"To add to what my colleague Rescue mentioned, you never know how long life truly lasts, so live it to your fullest. Pursue your dreams, hug your loved ones and don't forget, no matter the storm and darkness, no matter the strive and pain and fear, the sun will always shine again!"

'Nice save', Olivia couldn't help but think, not bitter or mean, because she liked Sunshine. He was genuinely good, from the tips of his curly hair down to the point of his crooked toes. His very soul was good. He was bright and a little cracked, yes, but shining still. Determined and strong. 

He was made of stronger stuff than she, she thought as she watched him light up the room, the way even the most displeased looking journalists couldn't help but smile at him.

When it came to personality, Sunshine would have long since ousted her from her spot as Number One – he and two others would be great contenders for the position.

Cheers and claps erupted and Olivia didn't bother with the bowing and waving the other heroes did as they rose from their seats. She was a walking PR nightmare and she was determined to remain that way.

For just as much as Sunshine wasn't allowed to retire, neither was she allowed to quit. If the agency didn't let her go and she had to continue to make money for them, fighting battles for them, she was going to make sure they'd regret keeping her on board as much as possible.

The PR agent threw her a viciously displeased look once everyone had gone backstage and Olivia rolled her eyes with as much disdain as she could fit into the motion. 

If the agency didn't want her to say things they didn't agree with, they shouldn't let her attend any public events. Easy as pie. 

They had to occasionally sign her up for interviews though, of course, or there was going to be talk and online spaces in particular had really ramped up the conspiracy theories in recent years. 

People who ran fan pages for heroes had already noticed that she barely said anything anymore, especially compared to when she had first started making a name for herself. 

Rescue used to be a name many people connected with an upbeat, bright hero who had an encouraging word for everyone. Who made people believe in their dreams and a brighter tomorrow.

Olivia had believed the same, before staring down at her best friend's broken body, the spilled blood, the cracked open chest with ribs poking out of skin like a grotesque scene from an over-the-top halloween movie full of gore.

She had believed it, still, right up until her other best friend had died clutching to her hand, panicked and desperate, getting crushed by the building on top of him, begging her in breathless wheezes to help him. To save him.

She dreamed of them and of Owl, her one and only sidekick, who had brought so much light back into her life, only to dangle from a villain's grasp, neck at an odd angle. He hadn't even graduated high school, he had come to work with her for the summer, hoping to become a hero once he was done with school the next year.

They had all been good and kind. Had all wanted to make the world better. But villains were relentless monsters who hunted anything bright and glowing until they could destroy it.

Olivia was about to leave with the other heroes when an alarm blared from her special watch, the little screen at her wrist lighting up with a location, the color behind the black text a bright red.

Only Sunshine's wristwatch lit up too, which let her know that a rather dangerous villain was causing trouble and they were the only two nearby who were qualified enough to deal with that person swiftly. They exchanged a quick glance and Olivia motioned that she'd take over.

Sunshine hesitated, then inclined his head. He was more than capable of going on his own, but Olivia knew that his granddaughter was visiting today. He had promised to look after the little girl for the weekend so his son and daughter-in-law could go on a little holiday. 

He had been looking forward to that for weeks now, a soft smile on his face that she hadn't seen in years.

She knew he'd have to force his family to wait if he went to battle now. He'd have to delay their plans while he wanted nothing more than to be there for his loved ones. To not disappoint them.

Olivia on the other hand had no such obligations. No pets or partners or children and her parents lived on the other side of the country, so she only saw them once or twice a year when she got her mandated time off.

She rushed to the address displayed on the wristwatch, to the location of the hero who had requested help. When she arrived she saw injured civilians dragged off to the side and trying to crawl further away, blood splattered across cracked pavement.

Alarms blared overhead, an automated and crisply pronounced voice, telling everyone to evacuate in a calm and orderly manner.

The entire street looked as though it had gotten hit by a very localized earthquake. Parts of the ground jutted up in sharp shards and broken chunks, all the windows in the surrounding houses were shattered and one smaller building stood visibly crooked, like it might collapse at any moment. 

Her surroundings looked like an unrealistic movie scene from an action flick.

There were only a handful of villains with ground-based powers and even fewer dangerous enough that she got an alert. People around her sagged with relief as she showed up, slumping as though they knew that they were safe now.

Back before she had buried her friends and sidekick, before she had clawed her way through battle after battle, crying and desperate and hurting because the villains just wouldn't stop, she would have arrived with a big smile. She would have told everyone that she was here now and that they were safe. To leave it up to her.

"Call an ambulance and try to get out of here if you can move," she instructed sharply, raising her voice to be heard over the blaring sirens. "Help others if you can."

That was the moment her colleague flew across the street, slamming into a car with enough force it dented metal and shattered glass and she knew immediately they weren't getting back up. Insignia did not have an enhanced metabolism and if their spine wasn't broken from this, Olivia would eat an entire broom.

Her powers prickled under her skin as she stepped forward, reaching over to briefly press the other button on Insignia's wristwatch, requesting immediate extraction and medical help.

"Don't move," she instructed and looked up just in time to see Colossus appear, the hulking, rather new and powerful villain stopping in his tracks upon spotting her. She gave Insignia's wrist a tiny, hopefully comforting pat. "Be right back."

Colossus moved to drag up a chunk of the earth and asphalt to shield himself, but he wasn't fast enough. 

Olivia's abilities were deemed one of the best among the heroes – and one of the hardest to train. Whatever powers her opponent had, hers changed to be their perfect opposition. 

It also meant, however, that she had to improvise on the spot when she met a villain for the first time. Figuring out how to use what abilities she had been saddled with to win often ended in extremely sloppy fights that made people question regularly why she was even considered Number One.

If her enemy had no powers to speak of, if they used technology or sheer combat skills and smarts, she could only hope that she had enough hand-to-hand training to make it.

Olivia was a trained hero, heroes were meant to protect life first and foremost, even those of villains. Heroes were meant to be the good guys after all. They were supposed to represent kindness and integrity and second chances and hope.

But Olivia had buried her friends one time too many, had once stood surrounded by dead civilians, the villain responsible taunting her while the air had been thick with the stench of blood and feces and death.

She had been told she could not leave the industry if she didn't want to be saddled with a massive amount of debt when she decided that she was done with it all. That she wanted to go home for good.

Funny how the agency never told heroes and sidekicks that any and all property damage they caused in fights, fights they could not avoid, would only be taken care of by said agency as long as they kept working for them. If she left, they'd hand her the bills.

Olivia had gotten hurt over and over by villains, had watched others get hurt over and over and she was just done with everything. If people wanted a hero like they existed in storybooks and bright, sparkly ads, she was not the person to look to for that. Not anymore.

She had a street of injured civilians to defend and a colleague unable to move, badly injured and most likely in need of immediate emergency surgery. This villain was not getting back up once she was done with him, no matter how much she'd look like a villain herself later on the news.

Colossus clearly had had a grand old time tossing an under-qualified hero around, as well as injuring helpless civilians. Nothing new here and Olivia didn't bother to hold back.

She had, once upon a time, done her best to avoid injuring villains beyond knocking them out, but when ground-pulverizing powers rose to her fingertips now, she focused on packing as much as she could into every hit.

Colossus and she had clashed once before and he had gotten away only because she hadn't quite figured out the full scope of the powers she had gotten saddled with when facing him and because he had swiftly collapsed a house on a group of terrified civilians.

Villains were nothing but a scourge of the earth.

This time, Olivia knew what she was working with and most importantly, who she was dealing with and the lengths he was willing to go to in order to win or escape.

It was clear he had expected the same slap-dash, somewhat sloppy fight from last time.

It took two hits before he was on the ground, visibly reeling, struggling and failing to sit up again. Other heroes would stop here. They were, in fact, instructed and trained to. To stop when the enemy was down and apprehend them instead. To be better than villains.

But Olivia knew how much the prison facilities struggled to contain people with superpowers, how often they escaped, especially when other villains attacked the place.

There had once been a time when Olivia had thought it didn't matter, that second chances were all the rage. She was done with that, just like she was done with fighting people over and over again because they kept escaping.

She was done with arriving at ongoing fights to find weeping and bleeding and at times dead civilians and even heroes.

Olivia raised her leg just as Colossus turned over on his hands and knees to try and get up, bringing her foot down on his back with a flare of her powers. There was no noise from his throat, not when she heard the sound his spine and ribs made and he fell still, only his chest moving in little gasping breaths. 

He would never again get back up, not after that hit and that was all that mattered at the end of the day. No more hurt civilians, no more broken colleagues. One less evil, permanently removed.

A sudden tingle raced across her skin and she flared her powers slightly, the ground-crushing sensation from before shifting to make her feel like gravity changed its course. Her gaze snapped up, just as the sky grew a deep, dark red, lightning flashing across it.

Floating above her, having managed to sneak up on her, was The End. A villain only three heroes were capable of fighting, herself included. Fuck.

Olivia didn't waste a second, letting the new power coursing under her skin flare out. She could never waste so much as a split second when faced with The End. The grip of gravity shifted within a heartbeat, like the snap of massive fingers, the noise of it cracking through the air. Just in time to slow the descend of The End's meteors and forcing them to a glowing stop right above the skyscrapers of the city.

It felt like her bones were made of metal and at the same time, as though she weighed nothing at all. She felt as though she was as liable to find herself crushed to the ground by the entire universe as she was to float away like a speck of dust on the wind.

"Little Rescue, ruiner of lives," The End shouted, fury making his voice sound like a guttural snarl as he pushed back against her powers, the sky growing darker still. 

Olivia was faintly aware of people screaming in panic behind her, ahead of her, as civilians ran for their lives. Others crawled for their lives, legs broken or bleeding from wounds inflicted by Colossus that needed immediate treatment. 

Treatment they wouldn't get, for ambulances were not allowed near active fight zones and the specialized removal teams were only sent out for severely injured heroes, not civilians. Too many paramedics had lost their lives or use of their limbs when they had gotten caught in battles.

Not that The End cared, of course. Villains never did.

Colossus at her feet was breathing in high-pitched, panting little wheezes, his body utterly unmoving.

The End had always kept his distance, but today he descended when he couldn't force his meteors further, slamming into the ground before her, his meteors crumbling to nothing and lightning started to flash like a thousand storms were getting unloading at once. 

Olivia hurriedly dodged his fist, the air around her heavy and vibrating all at once as Gravity and Space started to clash.

"What a joke this world is," The End growled. "For a monster like you to be seen as good."

"And what a joke," Olivia growled right back, dark anger and fury beating in her veins in tandem with her heart. If she could take down The End, the city would be safer for it. "That you were born."

The End's next punch was heavy with the power of impacting meteors and the empty coldness of space, lightning crackling between like a hungry beast. He laughed, brief and hard and hateful and he snarled, "Well, if you want to act like a hero, then die like one."

He unleashed his powers, nearly forcing her to her knees and she felt the pain of something cracking within her left arm.

The End was ruthless, but so was Olivia, she was sure their faces looked the same under their masks, teeth bared and sweat sliding down brows as they traded blows, booms making the ground shake. The already crooked building toppled entirely and cars got crushed against walls, street lights bending and twisting like they were made of cheap plastic.

Only when Portalia showed up did Olivia realize what The End was doing. Getting her away from his colleague Colossus so someone could save him, while doing his level best to take her out for good. 

She had no idea if he would actually murder her, the deaths he caused had always been indirect, a consequence of his powers laying waste, but that didn't mean much. Not when she knew how badly he could and would hurt her if she was just a split second too slow.

He had been training, however, moving just that tiny fraction of a moment faster than she did. For the first time, as his fingertips grazed the side of her mask, half of it shattered and she jerked back in startled alarm.

"Shit, End!" Portalia shouted in that second. "He's dead weight, get over here!"

Olivia lunged just as The End stepped back, but he had counted on that, ducking and shifting his weight and the next second his foot hit her chest with the power of a truck, sending her flying. She managed to use the powers his presence granted just in time to avoid an impact that would have left her in the ICU.

The next second, with a soundless snap, the powers were gone, as were the villains, leaving behind a thoroughly ruined street, weeping civilians and an unmoving hero. Olivia caught herself against a wall, pain crackling through her like fireworks, but she bit back a whimper and straightened to dig out a backup mask before she helped the civilians.

At least no one had died and Colossus might be out of the business for good.

*.*.*

Her arm in a sling and her body aching with bruises, Olivia wanted nothing more than to crawl home and curl up in her bed and forget today had ever happened.

The agency had taken forever to determine if enough of her face had been visible to compromise her identity, but they had eventually decided that it should be fine. If it turned out they were wrong, they had promised to deal with any of the resulting issues. 

Olivia would hardly be the first hero whose identity had gotten revealed during a fight, they had reassured her. The agency had enough experience in dealing with it and, if necessary, spinning the narrative to a hero's advantage. 

They either paid off the news to keep quiet or they stalled them enough to stage an identity reveal themselves, so any information coming out afterwards from newspapers and news shows wouldn't surprise the public anymore and instead supported the reveal.

It would be a massive problem for her personally, however, if that was the case. She wanted and needed her privacy. Once her real name was connected to her hero persona it would be possible to find out everything. Where she had gone to school, who her neighbors had been. Everything. 

If people showed up at her apartment uninvited as a result of that, she was going to make the news and not for good reasons.

Still, as much as she wanted to lie down and unwind, she really needed to go grocery shopping. Her fridge was empty and she didn't even have toast that she could slap onto a plate for a lackluster meal. 

Never mind that she was on a meal plan, just like the other heroes, to keep her in peak condition and she'd get glared into the ground by her nutritionist if she deviated from it.

The agency had taken her off the roster for a month so she could heal up, since one of the less powerful healers had fixed her enough that she'd by fine by then. The strong healers were busy trying to peace Insignia back together, who had nearly died on the way to the hospital. 

They would move on to heal the civilians after that, if only for publicity's sake. Ever since the agency had noticed just how sales went up whenever they did that, it had become a common thing after battles. 

The healers would be too drained after that to deal with her and Olivia was relieved to get some time off anyway.

While Olivia was glad the healers had gotten the go-ahead to help civilians during work hours, since many of them did volunteer work at hospitals after they clocked out, she still resented the agency.

For one, they deserved all the resentment she could give them and two, if they really cared about people, they would have made that offer far sooner.

Feeling tired and hurt, Olivia dragged herself back out of her apartment to shuffle to the nearest grocery store. Along the way she noticed her powers shifting under her skin once or twice, but she ignored it.

The last thing she wanted was to out some poor person who just wanted to enjoy their day in peace as someone with superpowers. The agency tended to hound people who had them, trying to snatch them up before other organizations could, always hungry for more names, more fame, more money.

There were far more people with powers than the public probably realized and many of them had no interest in becoming heroes. Many of them had powers that weren't useful for fighting at all as well.

And, well, if a fellow hero was somewhere out of costume, they deserved to be left alone. If it was a villain she'd sooner or later try to curb-stomp them anyway and she really didn't want to pick a fight around civilians if it could be avoided.

She didn't want to see more blood today, she didn't want to hear more screams and sobs that would follow her into her dreams, joining all the other nightmare-sounds that liked to greet her more often than not.

The agency had offered her pills for that, but Olivia had taken them only for a month before she quit. She didn't like how they made her feel and that they took away her edge, especially when she got called for an emergency in the middle of the night.

As she entered the store, she became distantly aware of her powers shifting under her skin once more and discarded it, squinting at the rows of bread to see if her favorite was still available. 

Just as she reached out, someone bumped into her arm as the person beside her tried to do the same.

"Oh, my apologies," he said and she glanced up at a tall man. He looked pretty, she noticed distractedly, his smile charming and apologetic.

Then he stilled and stared, his expression going complicated and he looked like he had no idea how to react for the longest moment. Like he was shocked and startled and she resisted the urge to frown at him. She knew there were some abrasions on her face from where her mask had gotten half shattered, so she was willing to overlook his reaction. It probably didn't look too pretty.

"It's fine," she answered, turning back to grab the bread she wanted, determined to move on. 

To her surprise, however, the pretty guy caught himself and said, "I – Sorry." He cleared his throat and seemed to catch himself, putting on a charming smile. He definitely knew that he was good looking, Olivia couldn't help but think. The smile and casual confidence said it all. "I didn't bump your hurt arm, did I?"

"You didn't see my invisible cast?" she asked while giving the side he stood on and had bumped against a dryly pointed look – her very healthy side.

He blinked and laughed briefly, a quickly smothered sound and he seemed surprised at his own reaction. "In that case, why don't you let me buy you dinner as an apology?"

Oh, he was flirting. Olivia hadn't been flirted with in forever and she knew that was her own fault. She was either working too much or, when she was off the clock, looked too sour, exhausted and angry and bitter at the world at large. He either didn't mind that or thought that she was still pretty enough to warrant a night out.

She weighed her exhaustion up against a meal and perhaps some nice company and decided she had some energy left for that. Besides, her apartment would just be glum and silent.

And if this guy wasn't pleasant to hang out with after all, at least she'd eat something before heading home. She could afford a meal outside of her meal plan. Especially if she didn't tell her nutritionist about it.

"Sure," she answered after a moment and put the bread back. Eating out would take care of her shopping for tonight and she could always come crawling back to the grocery store in the morning.

He blinked, looking like he hadn't expected her to agree so easily and then smiled like he was delighted. "Wonderful, do you want to finish up here?"

"No, we can go," she said, briefly glancing down to notice that his basket was empty as well.

"Lovely," he said with another charming smile and gestured for her to go ahead. "I'm Rhys, by the way."

"Olivia," she answered as she headed out of the grocery store with him, dodging around a couple arguing over grapes. "Do you always hit up people you've bumped into?"

"It's my main strategy," he answered easily in mock seriousness, bantering back like it was second nature and she found herself smiling a little.

Rhys made talking easy, easier than it had been in quite some time, as he led her to a small hole-in-the-wall, family run restaurant that she hadn't known was in her neighborhood. Then again, she wasn't out much.

If she was being brutally honest, she expected a nice enough conversation and a good meal and to go home with a pleasant memory. She did not expect the way Rhys and she just seemed to...click. 

From the way he appeared surprised again and again for brief moments and sometimes looked at her like she wasn't what he had expected, he felt the same way.

Dinner was one of the best meals she had ever eaten at a restaurant and she resolved to show up more often in the future. It was only her exhaustion kicking in with a vengeance that made her realize that she had sat there for far longer than intended, chatting with Rhys.

"I'm sorry to cut things short," she said, though Rhys snorted as he glanced at his wristwatch, clearly clocking how long they had sat there together as well. "But it's getting late."

"Oh, no, I'm just as much to blame," Rhys joked and raised a hand to flag the waitress down.

The check was delivered moments later and Olivia snatched it up before he could, ignoring his indignant sputtering as she paid.

"I said it would be my treat," he said and it almost sounded like a pout. It certainly made her smile.

"I guess you'll just have to take me out again, if you want to make up for it," she said and he straightened.

"You would see me again?" he asked and when she nodded, he asked, "When are you free?"

"Whenever," Olivia answered, gesturing at her injured arm. "I'm on sick leave for a month."

There was, ever so briefly, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Oh, is that so? In that case, we can meet here Friday? For dinner again?"

"Sounds good to me," Olivia answered and pulled out her phone. "Want to exchange numbers?"

They walked out of the little restaurant with new contacts in each of their phones and Olivia found herself idling on the sidewalk for a couple more minutes, saying goodbye to Rhys.

His smile was charming when he waved at her and headed the other direction, the faint, easy to ignore shifting under her skin vanishing once he was far enough away from her for her powers to settle down.

She briefly wondered what he was capable of, before she brushed those thoughts aside. It didn't matter if he could fry waffles on his palms or read a book just by touching it, it was none of her business. Besides, she was the last person who'd toss someone with powers into the unforgiving jaws of the agency.

Her belly full with good food and her mood far lighter and better than it had been before, she trudged home, greeting her neighbors who were startled to see her hurt.

"Had a biking accident," she lied easily. Her neighbors were under the impression that she was some kind of huge sports enthusiast and she never disabused them of that notion. "It was fun, though."

She left after a minute or two of conversation, keeping topics light and away from herself. It was easy by now, she knew what to ask to get her neighbors to talk about the things they liked or the things that bothered them and she kept quiet in the meantime. 

The less she told them about herself, the less she risked letting anything important or damning slip.

Her apartment was quiet and cool when she entered, smelling faintly of freshly washed laundry. Kicking off her shoes, she slumped down on the couch, only to grimace in pain as some bruises on her back flared up. 

Groping for the remote, she put on a cheerful movie, one she was familiar with so she didn't really have to pay attention to what was happening on screen.

Her phone pinged and it was Rhys, wishing her a good night. She wished him a good night as well and fell asleep minutes later with a small smile.

*..*

Olivia stared at the newspaper blankly, the front page loudly and proudly declaring that The End had been part of an attack and that none of the heroes on scene had been able to stop him.

'No one to the Rescue' the underlining headline said and she bit back a scoff. She wasn't stupid, she knew exactly what kind of less than subtle callout this was. 

There weren't many people who could confront The End and with her gone and the other two supers occupied with a huge rockslide tragedy, The End had dipped in and out undisturbed, causing chaos.

"And here I was hoping your day was going as good as mine." Rhys' voice made her look up. He joined her with a smile. "What's the frown for?" His smile dimmed a bit. "Did something happen?"

"No, it's fine," Olivia answered. There had been no casualties during The End's attack, even if three heroes were now hospitalized and a number of people had lost their livelihoods and homes and cars in the attack.

Villains just never cared about the pain and misery they caused, but what else was new.

Her mood remained a bit pensive however, even as Rhys accompanied her into the aquarium, the place he had chosen for their first date. While he purchased the tickets, Olivia sent a quick text to her mentor, asking if she was alright and how the other heroes were doing.

Her mentor had seemed more tired than usual lately, a grimness about her that didn't fade even when they met up for drinks at night. It worried her, if Olivia was being honest.

"Here," Rhys drew her out of her thoughts and she pocketed her phone, taking the ticket with a little smile and a thank you. "What has you so preoccupied today? Maybe I can help with it?"

"Distract me," Olivia requested after a moment. "It's just work."

Rhys made an understanding noise and then he did quite a thorough job of distracting her. He knew a lot about ocean life, his gaze coming alive in a way that made him look downright boyish in his joy. Like a child, being awed at the world.

It made Olivia smile and yet, at the same time, it made her realize, as they walked from exhibit to exhibit, that her own life sorely lacked in joys and fascination. It was as though her job as a hero had murdered all the innocence in her heart. 

Her inner child was a silent, wounded thing, unable to cope with the reality that people, that villains, could be so very cruel. The stories and tales she had grown up with, about goodness prevailing, felt ever more distant.

Fairytales were only just that, after all. There were no wise men in funky hats with guiding words, no kind women with helping hands, no little fairies to whisk someone away into magical worlds. Not even trolls that could be tricked with a clever riddle and who ultimately didn't really harm anyone who wasn't very foolish.

But even those thoughts Rhys could distract her from and before she knew it, he held her hand as he showed her a fish with the funniest name in the world. It made her laugh more than anything had in weeks. 

There was a curious thoughtfulness to him as he watched her laugh, but he smiled easily enough when she raised an eyebrow at him.

As they slowly headed towards the exit a good two hours later and Rhys ducked into the restroom, she swiftly entered the souvenir shop to buy him a little octopus plush. He loved the smart little ocean animals and even if she felt a little silly, the moment she presented him with it after they left the aquarium made it worth it.

"Thank you," he said, sounding genuinely touched, before he caught himself and cleared his throat. He looked quite thoughtful now and perhaps a little baffled. "That was very kind of you."

Olivia could only offer a wry little smile to that. "With all due respect, you don't know me very well yet." She looked ahead, watching a giggling group of friends as they left the aquarium as well. "I try to be kind where I can be."

Rhys' expression was still thoughtful, though something else was now lurking in his gaze that made him appear more solemn than before. "In that case I look forward to getting to know you," he said, gently holding the plush between his hands. "Would you like to eat lunch with me?"

He showed her to another hole-in-the-wall restaurant and before Olivia knew it, she had spent nearly the entire day with him. They parted ways in the setting sun, promising to meet up again, Octi, the freshly named octopus securely held in Rhys' arms.

He really was quite cute. And Rhys wasn't too bad either.

*..*

Before Olivia knew it, she met Rhys every other day. He showed her around most of the city to places she hadn't even known existed. 

He also sent her plenty of pictures of Octi in his new home, in one he was perched on the sofa as though he was intently watching a historical drama, in another he was half turned away from the fried fish Rhys had cooked as though disgusted.

It made her smile, it made her laugh. It made Olivia feel brighter, like her very heart and soul got to breathe again. It also made her less than eager to return to her job. She really wished she could quit being a hero and maybe go on a road trip. Find a house in the outskirts of the city with a nice little garden. Maybe she'd even adopt a pet.

The End, on the other hand, was absolutely making himself out to be a nuisance. It was as though he knew that she was out of commission and that the other two high-ranking heroes had to deal with a new emergency across the country. He obviously took advantage of the fact that so few other heroes could stand up to him.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Rhys said as he looked around her apartment. It was the first time she had him over and he almost seemed hesitant to be here.

There was something slightly troubled in his gaze today and she had no idea why. He hadn't mentioned any problems, aside from some arguments with coworkers.

She made a noise to let him know she was listening as she pulled out pots and pans to prepare a nice brunch. It was raining buckets today so neither of them had been in the mood to walk around for hours on one of their usual dates.

"What do you think about villains?" Rhys asked, sounding far more serious than ever before. She glanced at him over her shoulder, a frown on her face. His expression was serious as well and he was watching her like he didn't want to miss a single reaction on her end.

"Why do you ask?" Olivia answered, reluctant to open that can of worms when they had had such a nice morning so far. 

When the past almost four weeks were nothing short of...amazing, really. She did not look forward to returning to her job in five days.

"I've just been thinking recently," Rhys said and it sounded just a tad too casual. This clearly was a topic he had wanted to bring up more than once in the past. "We haven't really talked about it before."

Olivia stared down at the eggs she had wanted to fry and suddenly her appetite was gone. "I hate them," she answered honestly, not looking up from the food collected in front of her. The vegetables and fruit and bacon and cheese.

"Why?" there was a strange note in Rhys' voice, something challenging, something edged in hard wariness, but she didn't turn around to look at him. 

Maybe he had a friend or family member who had turned to villainy in the past and was worried she would judge him or them.

Granted, there were some people who called themselves villains but who were merely nuisances at best. They were labeled disturbers by the public, even if the term made them pout. 

Sidekicks were usually deployed to handle them. These people slipped in and out of prison easily enough, since most of them only got charged with public disturbance and some minor property destruction. They very rarely killed someone and usually stopped whatever they were doing the moment there were casualties.

"Do you know how many civilians a villain kills on average?" she asked, reaching for the eggs and cracking them into the pan with perhaps a little too much force, nearly crushing the eggshell into many small pieces.

Rhys was silent, as though startled and so she continued. She knew the statistics. She had seen the hospital rooms, she had checked up on victims, on people she hadn't been able to save. On civilians and colleagues who'd never be able to live normal lives again.

"Five point two per year," she answered. "And that doesn't take the injured into account. Currently, we have over a hundred people in the ICU who may never wake up. There are people who lose limbs or get paralyzed, who turn blind or deaf after an attack."

She cracked another two eggs as she spoke, her back tense and ramrod straight. "There are people who lose their livelihood, their homes and cars in attacks. Do you know how many are in life-long debt because of villains today? How many became homeless?"

"Dont," Rhys said suddenly, sounding unexpectedly choked up and startled and unsettled. "That can't be true."

Olivia's answering laugh was more a fanged bark, all aggression and pain and grim acceptance. "Call the hospitals if you don't believe me or check some of the official records that got released after attacks. Just because it's not on the news doesn't mean it doesn't happen. I know the statistics because I helped compile the data."

That revealed more than she had wanted to, so she bit back everything else she wanted to say. She bit back how she had sat with weeping and grieving people after attacks, hiding her own hurts while trying to help in what little ways she could.

She'd never forget the day a mother gripped her hands tightly, her gaze burning with a rage and grief so terrible it would have swallowed the world whole if it had a physical manifestation. 

'Please stop them,' the woman had begged in a voice so rough it had sounded like a growl. 'Just stop them, once and for all.'

She remembered burying her two best friends, her sidekick. She remembered the pain and agony of their loss, of staring at villains who did not feel sorry, not even for one second, about what they had done.

Olivia had chosen the name Rescue for herself when she had graduated from sidekick to hero, because she had wanted to help people. To give them hope. 

There was no hope she could offer in the wake of death. Only justice.

She still didn't turn around to look at him, the eggs sizzling in the pan and she reached for the bacon pack next, tearing it open with her teeth.

"Do you know the statistics for The End?" Rhys asked in a voice like he half didn't want to know. Oh, did she know his statistics. Only too well.

Olivia rattled them off easily enough and Rhys was so silent that she found herself looking back at him. He looked...horrified. To the point where she felt herself softening, tucking away her claws and teeth and helpless rage. He wasn't at fault after all. He was just a guy who had suddenly gotten whacked over the head with an ugly reality.

"It's not your fault," she said and he jolted like he wanted to protest but bit down on the words, looking even more fraught than before.

"I have to go," he said and Olivia paused in surprise. "I'm sorry. I just – I gotta. I'll call you, just..." He fumbled with his words like he didn't know how to start or finish his sentences and then he rushed out of her apartment, grabbing his shoes on his way out.

Olivia stared after him, befuddled and startled, the eggs sizzling merrily.

What had that been about?

*..*

Something weird was going on, Olivia thought as she headed into work, her arm long healed now. She didn't look forward to another day in the costume, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice. Besides, the villains weren't quite as bad anymore recently, for some strange reason.

The End had nearly vanished after being astonishingly active during her sick leave and a number of other villains had become very quiet as well. At least Rhys had called back after running out, apologizing profusely.

Something had shifted between them after that as well and while it felt like it had been for the better, like some kind of careful wall Rhys had kept up had crumbled, he also seemed troubled more often than not.

But no amount of prodding had gotten him to say anything, so Olivia had left him to it. She made sure he knew that she was there for him, but every offer just seemed to make him feel even more conflicted.

Outside of that, he was affectionate and sweet and kind and he didn't mind her strange hours or that she didn't talk about her job much. He didn't either, only complaining whenever one of his colleagues had pissed him off. 

She didn't mind, it allowed her to keep her secrets, even though she felt more and more bitter about that. The agency had a clause in their contracts that they had to be informed if a civilian found out a hero's identity and while Olivia could lie to them, it would only cause a massive headache later.

She didn't want to drag Rhys into her world, even if she knew that keeping secrets was an asshole move. She just...she wanted one part of her life that didn't get tainted by her greatest regret.

Work was grueling that day, a group of villains had banded together and while she had arrived just in time to keep them from killing anyone, she left the encounter with a massive bruise on her cheek and a sore wrist.

"You gotta take better care of yourself," her mentor murmured as she fussed over her.

It felt good, sometimes, Olivia had to admit, to just lean on her mentor a little, even if she was the stronger and higher ranking one between them. There was a sense of security whenever her mentor was around. Like things were going to be okay, somehow.

"I won't always be here," her mentor added and Olivia pressed her lips together, the gentle little feeling in her chest getting snuffed out like a candle in a strong wind. 

She didn't want to think about her mentor dying, of losing someone who had become family to her. Of losing the person who had caught her again and again countless of times, helping her back to her feet no matter how often she fell. Who had held her as she had wept over broken, unmoving bodies.

As they parted ways, Olivia made sure to hug her mentor for a long minute and the older woman didn't protest. They both knew how fragile life was, they both had buried people they had cared about. They both had lost and hurt and despaired.

Still, her mentor was a tough and crafty one, one of the few heroes who had no powers, who relied on gadgets and sheer martial prowess. Her mentor was going to be fine and even if not, she'd last long enough for Olivia or another hero to come to the rescue.

Olivia parted ways after wrangling a promise out of her mentor to meet up for drinks on the weekend and she was glad that she was meeting Rhys for dinner. On days like today she really didn't like sitting around in her silent, empty apartment.

As she headed towards the restaurant, she passed by a couple of young college students, one of them picking up a newspaper someone had left on a bench.

"Do you ever wonder if heroes are okay?" one of them asked, showing the other a headline with a picture beneath. Olivia knew the depicted scene, recognizing her costume and the hero she was dragging out of a partially collapsed building. "Like who saves our saviors, you know?"

Their friend scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, dude. Heroes save themselves, that's why they're heroes. They do the rescuing."

"I guess," the first guy muttered, dropping the newspaper into the trash.

Olivia turned away, tuning out their conversation as they talked about meeting up for studying with a group of cute students.

Rhys' smile fell when he saw her, her swollen cheek and bandaged hand and she waved him off.

"I tried kickboxing," she answered with an easy shrug. "Please get used to seeing me injured, I like trying new things every couple of weeks."

Rhys nodded, but he looked troubled still so Olivia offered her good hand and he took it, his touch so gentle it was nearly hesitant. He remained softer than ever before during the entire evening, a small frown between his brows whenever he looked at her.

He let her take him home and when he kissed her after they sat down on the couch in the dark, it was with so much care it surprised her when she felt tears prick at her eyes.

"When I met you, I had no idea you would become this important to me," he whispered as he sat in her lap, his knees bracketing her hips and her entire view was filled by him. 

They had left the lights off and so he was only illuminated by the lights of the city shining through the windows. There was something aching in his gaze.

"I..." He paused, his lips pressing together as he raised a hand to trace around her swollen cheek without touching the heated, bruised flesh. He sucked in a sharp breath when Olivia shifted her head to let her cheek rest in his palm. It hurt a little, but it was worth the way his eyes grew wide.

"You really shouldn't trust me like this," he whispered. "What if I'm terrible?"

Olivia couldn't help but laugh softly at that, letting her hands rest on his hips and giving them a little squeeze. She liked his weight on her, warm and solid and steady.

"You make my days brighter," she answered, just as softly, like this moment was a spell that raised voices could shatter. "You make me want to hope for a better tomorrow. How could you be terrible?"

She caught a glimpse of his expression crumbling ever so briefly before he leaned in to kiss her. He kissed her like she was more precious than life itself, then he kissed her like he was drowning and she was air, then he kissed her like they had all the time in the world.

She sank into it, into him, letting him sweep her along, the troubles of the day melting away to be replaced by this wondrous, beautiful moment, cradled in safe hands of the dark. Like they were two secrets that could keep each other safe from discovery.

It made it easy, almost, to bare her heart to this man, to whisper a confession against his lips that had him inhaling sharply and pressing closer. He whispered his own words of love like they were something achingly precious to be presented to her.

Rhys touched her like she was everything he wanted and everything he feared to lose and when they curled up in bed together, Olivia fell asleep with another person beside her for the first time in years.

The last thing she was aware of, was Rhys holding her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead and whispering something that sounded like a shaky, tearful apology.

*.*.*

Olivia was just about to take a bite from her lunch, her stomach rumbling, when her alarm blared, the screen of her wristwatch immediately turning an ominous red as it displayed a location.

Hissing out a curse, she hurriedly grabbed her mask and left the break room, abandoning her lunch to an uncertain fate. If she was lucky, no one had eaten it by the time she came back.

When she arrived on scene, she was breathless, but genuinely surprised to notice that comparatively little had gotten destroyed. No one seemed seriously injured either. In fact, the area was empty of civilians.

It seemed that the newest invention of Gigantor had scared them away. The prowling mech-dogs certainly kept a neat perimeter.

And right there, among his colleagues, was The End, which explained why she had gotten called in. They were robbing a bank from the looks of it and she narrowed her gaze. The End was above such plebeian things as robbing a bank, so if he and the other villains needed money they were planning something big.

"Playtime's over," she called as she leapt down from her perch, landing behind the villains and going for Gigantor first. The more she could take out as quickly as possible the better. She would not win against The End if he had backup.

The villains looked startled to see her and Gigantor crumbled with a wet gurgle, clutching his throat and wheezing for air, some of the hounds leaping forward to protect him, but they didn't seem to be on the attack otherwise, so Olivia swiftly turned to the other villains.

Portalia and Midnight were flanking The End, but they fell back when he stepped forward, turning around. Portalia grabbed Midnight's wrist and they were gone. They probably had headed inside the bank.

Only...Olivia paused as The End fell into a fighting stance, power roiling under her skin. With Portalia working with this group they shouldn't have been spotted in the first place. There certainly wouldn't have been a reason for Gigantor and his inventions to show up.

Which meant this was a distraction.

Olivia hated it when she had no idea what villains were up to and with The End being all over the place in recent months she really had no idea what to expect. Furthermore, most villains didn't team up much, so seeing this quartet together was making her gut tighten in warning.

The End lifted his hands slowly enough that it seemed strangely like he wanted to show he meant to harm. "Rescue," he said and his voice sounded different from the last time she had heard it. There was no more anger there.

He still sounded grim, but strangely hesitant as well. "If you'd let me expl-"

He ducked under her first with a curse and Olivia didn't give him the chance to speak further. She had learned very quickly to not hesitate for a second when confronted with The End. If she did, if she messed up, he'd leave the entire street destroyed. His meteors could crush so much, so much more than just concrete and steel and glass.

She'd be damned before she let it happen again on her watch. She had made that mistake once and had spent days digging people out of the rubble. Dinging corpses out of the rubble.

"Wait-" The End dodged another of her attacks and Olivia's bad feeling grew teeth that tore into her stomach. He wasn't fighting back, why wasn't he fighting back?

A blast of her powers sent him flying and he just barely kept from colliding with a wall, Space and Gravity once more clashing as he activated his powers at last to catch himself.

Gigantor was still on the ground, breathing carefully and feeling along his throat and he did not look like he was going to get up to join the fight, so Olivia followed after The End. 

It turned into a wild chase and Olivia felt baffled and ever more wary and suspicious. The End had never run from her. He had never run from anyone. He had confronted her and all heroes head on, with his powers that made the sky itself shake and the ground rumble. 

He was a force of nature contained in human flesh, capable of destruction so terrible she didn't even want to think of it. He was the storm of all storms, the rage of the universe beyond the little ball they called Earth. He was the death from above and Olivia had once prayed a little, that she'd react in time, that she'd stop him in time, to avoid dying at his hands.

He tried to speak multiple times until he gave up and by the time Olivia managed to corner him in a dead end, she was breathing hard. He was similarly out of breath, looking almost panicked at his situation.

"I don't want to fight you," he hurriedly gasped out, his chest heaving. "Please, just stop."

"I'll stop when villains do," Olivia growled back, lunging forward and missing him by a hair's breadth. 

"I'm stopping!" he shouted, cursing as he parried her blow, his strike unexpectedly lacking the force to hurt her. "Listen to me! Wai-! Olivia!"

For the first time since she had learned her lesson with The End, Olivia froze. He hurriedly backed up, reaching up to grab his mask and pulling it off. Rhys stared at her, eyes wide and beseeching and for a long second, Olivia heard nothing but the ringing in her ears.

It felt like she couldn't breathe as her world crumbled around her.

Suddenly, everything slotted into place. All the little strange moments, the oddities she had chalked up to Rhys being a person with quirks and his own past, one he didn't talk about much. The things he'd ask her, the way he had spoken sometimes, had looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

He had known who she had been from the very beginning. Had recognized her that day in the supermarket because he had been the one to shatter her mask to reveal a large enough part of her face.

It felt like her chest was being squeezed tight, so tight she had no idea how she kept drawing breath and her throat felt thick and tight, a scream and a sob so tangled together they turned into a ball of pain that held her voice captive.

"You knew," she rasped out just as The End – as Rhys, her Rhys, her kind and sweet and charming and funny Rhys, who had kept sending her pictures of Octi in various situations to make her laugh, who had brightened her entire world with nothing but lies – took a hesitant step towards her. "You knew all this time."

"I did," he answered, voice soft and cracking around the edges like he was holding back his own emotions.

Olivia found herself falling back a step before she caught herself. Her mind began to race, her emotions turning into a storm that tore up her insides, stripping layers off her bones and flaying her heart and for just a second her eyes welled with tears before she forced them down.

"How clever," she whispered and a terrible laugh scraped out of her throat, raw and awful and sharp like shards of glass. "How very clever."

Of course Rhys had wanted to keep talking to her. Of course he had laid the charm on thick, of course he had done everything to keep her around. Her, the Number One hero. How much information had she given him without meaning to? 

Had he looked at her phone whenever she had fallen asleep around him, foolishly, naively trusting him? Had he looked at her laptop whenever she had taken a shower? Had he found out the few identities she knew of other heroes? Was her mentor still safe?

Suddenly his massive activity period during her sick leave made an awful lot of sense. He had known she wouldn't be there and with the other two heroes being all over the news, taking care of terrible messes, he had known no one else would stop him.

"No, it's not like that," Rhys said, taking a step forward again, only to cringe. "It was at first, but I promise you, I meant everything I said."

"I don't believe you." The words dripped like acid from her tongue and they made him flinch back, his expression nothing but pain and regret and suddenly it made her so very angry.

What gave him the right to look at her like that when he had betrayed her? When he had just broken her heart into thousands of tiny pieces, crushing her dreams of the future. She had dreamed of revealing the truth to him eventually, of asking him to move in with her.

Olivia had no idea what to do, she had no idea what she would have done, if Portalia hadn't shown up and grabbed The End, vanishing with him before he could pull free of her grasp, his other hand reaching out to her.

Olivia stood there for a long minute, viciously biting down on the sobs that crawled up her throat like moaning ghosts. 

And here she had thought she had crushed all her naive, innocent hopes and dreams to pieces long ago. All her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ideas of a better future.

But Rhys had found the last little piece of her that had remained untouched and he had turned it into a mangled, bleeding mess.

She'd think he was doing her a favor if it didn't hurt so very, very terribly.

She shifted to leave, her mind churning, when her phone pinged and she received a message from Sunshine, telling her that her mentor had gotten caught up in a fight across the city. That she has gotten hurt very badly. They had no idea if she'd make it.

*.*.*

Olivia sat beside the hospital bed, staring down at her phone, re-watching the fight between her mentor and Life Eater a third time. The fight had only gotten recorded in fragmented pieces, cobbled together by whatever nearby cameras had survived during the battle.

There was something off about it. Something wrong about how her mentor moved. And yet, there was something eerily familiar about it, like Olivia had seen it before.

Olivia had trained beside her mentor for years, still sparred with her some days. They spent at least one evening of the week together, going drinking and eating and sometimes Sunshine tagged along outside of costume, trusting her to keep her mouth shut about his identity.

But things had been just ever so slightly off for a while now and it took Olivia a fourth re-watch for things to finally click. She had seen fights like these in the past, far and few between, but all the more tragic for it.

Those were the type of fights where a hero had given up. It was an Out fight. A last, final fight. Some heroes weren't even aware of what they were doing, but Olivia's mentor had always been too sharp for something like that. Had always been too self-aware.

Olivia stared at her mentor, at the bandages that seemed to cover almost all of her body. It had been a close thing, she had nearly died on the operation table and it had taken the doctors and healers hours to save her.

Olivia had spent the night in an uncomfortable hospital chair and had only recently been allowed to visit her mentor, to sit vigil at her bedside in the private wing of the hospital reserved for heroes. She hadn't even shucked her costume yet.

Her mind felt strangely empty, her chest tight and she closed her eyes for a long minute, feeling...wrung out. Angry. Exhausted beyond her physical body. A part of her grieved, a part of her raged and no side got the upper hand, leaving her hanging between them and so, so very done with everything.

When her mentor finally opened her eyes, Olivia waited until her gaze cleared enough, until their gazes met, before she opened her mouth, "Why?"

Her mentor closed her eyes again, suddenly looking so, so much older. And so very exhausted. So very brittle. It was a startling, almost frightening sight. To know that the one person Olivia had always been able to lean on seemed more like a husk than a person in this moment.

"I'm tired, kid," her mentor rasped and Olivia knew it would have been easy to chalk her words up to the current situation. The injuries, the hazy consciousness. But she knew better.

She knew the system they were in so very well, that it would not let them go until they were dead. That her mentor, like Olivia herself, had wanted to leave a long time ago.

"I'm done, kid," her mentor whispered, words slurring and then she seemed to have fallen asleep again.

Olivia stared at her mentor, her fists tightening as she replayed her mentor's words. She knew what her mentor meant, how tired she was of this life. Of being unable to escape it.

Stuck being heroes, stuck at the agency. Stuck in a life they had once chosen because they had been so very good. Because they had believed in that same goodness being present in the rest of the world.

Olivia had once thought that that goodness just needed a little saving, a little protecting. A little dusting off and guarding. 

Until her hands had been stained red over and over again. Until she had asked the agency to leave and had been told of the ruin that awaited her if she walked out.

Olivia stared at her mentor, watched her chest rise and fall and the push and pull of emotions within her shifted as the grief was swamped by anger so encompassing and acidic and dark it felt like a growling beast that snapped vicious teeth around her heart, swallowing it whole.

For a second she couldn't breathe, felt like despair was going to twine around the rage like a toxic lover, clinging and refusing to let go, her mind churning, until a thought clicked in place and suddenly she could breathe again.

She knew what she had to do. 

Something rose in her heart, something that refused to stay down no matter how hard it had gotten hit before. It was too bloody to be called hope, too gritty to be idealistic and too angry to be anything remotely heroic.

'I'm so done, kid.'

'Like, who saves our saviors, you know?'

'Don't be ridiculous, dude. Heroes save themselves, that's why they're heroes. They do the rescuing.'

'If you think you're a hero, then die like one.'

Very well then.

[roo-bastmoon]

Off My Chest

Rant about Hybe under the cut. I give you my word I will try to post a majority of positive content, because the world (and my mental health) doesn't need more negativity, but sometimes you just gotta vent.

Folks, if you've known me for a hot second, you've realized I am a Jimin-biased Jikooker... but I am OT7, and I sincerely love and support BTS.

I believe Jimin is a grown man who can advocate for himself and I believe Jungkook absolutely supports and adores him, whatever their relationship status is.

I always try to accentuate the positive and avoid online drama and negativity as much as possible, but I need to get this off my chest.

I will never be gas-lit into believing that the way Jimin was treated in solo era was fair, or equitable, or even made any kind of business-sense. I've genuinely tried to entertain other people's points of view and listen to people who claim to have industry expertise, but...

I will never forget his mail being tampered with four times, his leaked insurance information, denial of more music videos, overlapped solo release, only 9 days of promotion, split title tracks, no radio or play-listing, no bio for his Spotify for months, no restock of his single CD for months, hundreds of thousands of frozen and deleted sales, millions of culled streams, shady articles in WeVerse and Billboard, insulting dialogue in In the Seom, failure to submit to RIAA certification for months, only a paywall documentary on WeVerse, zero official acknowledgement of his Hot 100 #1, 1 billion streams on Spotify, or wins for The Fact, MAMA, and two Webbys, plus broken in-ears, anemic little balloons and a sad background tarp as decorations for his fan events… and the company telling him how doing more would just be impossible.

I compare all that to the push that other members and other groups got, and I know it just isn't true. It wasn't impossible.

Hell, Jeon Jungkook put in more effort to promote Jimin’s work and showed more respect for Jimin as an artist during his at-home lives than that whole company did, which honestly makes no sense from a profit standpoint.

I will never forget it, and I will not entertain arguments that say I’m a solo or an anti or jealous about it. I have eyes.

I am not out to shade any other members nor put forth any conspiracy theories. I simply want all our boys to get everything they justly deserve.

And yes, other members have suffered mishaps and neglect, but nothing of this scale, this consistently. It baffles me, I cannot understand it, and I'm done trying. Something strange was going on behind the scenes and we may never be privy to the details.

In trying to put this awful feeling behind me, I will say I am elated that Jikook are serving together and can support each other. I am glad there will be a Jikook travel show. I'm continually impressed with all of Jimin's success (in the military and professionally) despite all odds. I will always love and support all of BTS with my full heart.

And I sincerely hope the company has been taking notes and course-corrects for PJM2, even if it rubs some higher ups the wrong way if they had a different vision. Considering Jimin’s unique talents and his amazing star power—even his ability to bring Paris and New York to a screaming standstill just for the opportunity to see him exit a car—I would hope the company will “do their best to promote all labels and artists without discrimination” going forward.

But what happened truly sucked, and I needed to get that off my chest. I am not interested in further discussion or debate. I am now going to do my best to shift my focus and energy on to the things I want to manifest, instead of the things that enrage me.

So let me end on a positive and hopeful note: I put all my trust in Jimin, who signed a new contract with Hybe and who unfailingly adores all his members. There can be no love without trust. I will always do my best to trust BTS.

But I'm watching carefully. For Jimin and all our boys.

Love, Roo

[lizardsfromspace]

I had to look up what happened to a 90s child star bc they're in a project I'm writing something on & I was so excited to discover the answer is "nothing". Absolutely zero information on them after the mid-2000s. They don't act anymore and have a completely private life

There were a couple gossip mag photos of them, and all of them frame it as if something Tragic and Sad must happened to him, bc I think the concept that people may just not want to be a famous actor any more eludes those types. Like so many of their clickbait pieces about how You Won't Believe How Far This Star Has Fallen are just. People who retired from acting, and do something else now, and sometimes left L.A. entirely, which they take to be an inherent failure state. The remainder are people with clear mental illness or addiction issues having them constantly exacerbated by a press eager to invade their privacy. Entertainment gossip people are awful

[cupcakeslushie]

Ayup! So, question about Donnie's view of his brothers:

He's never met Raph, only seen him once, hasn't actually met Mikey but has kinda stalked him, and talking to Leo was like talking to a filing cabinet. He loves them, but he also hallucinates them, and does he just have kind of made up personalities for them in his head, based off of so little?

“Talking to a filing cabinet” (wheeze) sorry I just gotta take a sec…(ﾟ∀ﾟ)

So before actually meeting them all, and forming a real bond with his brothers, Three is obsessed with comparing himself to them. Not necessarily in a bad, resentful way, but in a sadly unachievable desperate way. He (by way of listening to Draxum) puts them all on pedestals without actually knowing their skills. He just assumes they would be perfect, strong specimens, and never really thinks much of what their personalities are like. While the hallucinations that constantly plague him are convincing enough to fool him in the moment. Three is still able to remind himself in the after, that they are not his brothers. Most days he talks more to those shadows, than Draxum, the goyles, or even Vee. They almost never leave him, especially in the last year, when, as far as he knows, Vee has just up and disappeared on him.

Through the footage he can get his hands on, he sees Mikey’s resilience in battle, and is curious about the mystical acumen there. Vee tells him about how The Oni spares more lives than Big Mama demands he take, all while still managing to make an entertaining enough performance that he avoids being punished for his mercy. Mickey doesn’t even realize he’s doing it in those battles, but he’s mimicking the theatrical Leo from his memories, when they would all play together, and his big brother would weave these bright and lively stories for them act out. Donnie is very protective of Mikey, as Draxum has always held Four over Three’s head. When they meet, Donnie is really thrown off by how happy and bright Michelangelo is.

For Raph, Three is baffled by the kind expression he sees on One’s face. Three has always assumed he would be an absolute power house monster, based solely off his species and the size he must be. When Three watches Raph rescuing Mickey from Big Mama—a scenario Three could only dream of completing—there’s a kindness and type of strength, Three had never even considered. Three grows desperate to experience that safe feeling, but it also brings a sort of hopelessness. Subconsciously he begins waiting for a similar kind of rescue. When he meets Raph, Donnie is on his best behavior. Raph is a sweet and caring blanket of comfort, but he’s still huge and a possible threat. If Donnie makes Raph unhappy in any way, he could be kicked out, and sent back to Draxum.

For Leo, yes, it is sometimes like talking to a brick wall. Three gets almost nothing from him, except a feeling of failure. Draxum is expecting Three to convert Leonardo to their cause, or at the very least gain some inside knowledge that they can exploit at the right time. But Leo is so unyielding, Three is almost more scared to talk to him than anything, because can never make any headway. But Draxum doesn’t accept failure, so Three goes all in every single time. When he meets Leo again, it’s like being reunited with a stranger. Leo is guilty and overcompensating for his cold attitude towards Three, but he still has some moments where his anger is scary.

[queer-devil]

DRDT Incorrect Quotes Pt 2

Bc it was fun last time

Same generator was used

Eden: Good morning!

Ace: Is it? Is it really?

J: You know what the problem is? Your really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your pie-hole.

Veronika: You think I’m cute?

J: SHUT YOUR PIE-HOLE!

Nico: Hu, Ace keeps bullying me at school.

Hu: Ask your teacher for help.

The next day…

Nico, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Ace?

Teruko: That's it, I'm cutting off the internet!

Nico: No, please don't! I have a family to feed!

Teruko:

Teruko: What?

Nico: I need to feed my Neopets!

Teruko: Is anyone going to tell me what's going on in here?!

Eden: It's kind of complicated, but Ace-

Teruko: Got it. Forget I asked.

Whit: Yo! I heard you like reptiles, got any fun facts?

Nico: If a crocodile eats your dad, they become your new dad.

Eden: Breathe, just breathe.

Arei: I’ve done nothing with my life! I’m a failure!

David: Awww, that never bothered you before.

Rose: I am not an early bird or a night owl. I am some form of permanently exhausted pigeon.

Whit: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited.

Charles: "If?"

Ace: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die.

Min: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

Whit: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue?

Rose: Technically a mix of green and blue?

Ace: So blurple.

Levi: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple.

Ace: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE?

Levi: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

David: What are the hardest things to say?

Charles: I was wrong.

Teruko: I need help.

Whit: Worcestershire sauce.

Teruko: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Charles and Whit's convo?

Eden: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.

Veronika: I'm in the washing machine.

Ace: I'm in the closet.

Eden: We accept you Ace.

Ace: No I'm literally in the closet.

Eden: Love is love.

Charles: There's nothing to do....

Whit: You can wash the dishes you promised to wash about a week ago.

Charles: *pulls out his phone* Nevermind.

Veronika, watching Ace: Ah yes. The mysterious and beautiful Ace…

Veronika: …I wonder what sort of melodic sounds this wonderful being makes?

Ace: *screaming*

Eden: What makes you think it's okay to watch Hannibal given its subject matter?

J: Sometimes, I watch television shows for entertainment purposes.

Veronika: Because I condone murder and cannibalism.

Teruko: Why would you give a knife to Xander?!

David, shrugging: Xander felt unsafe.

Teruko: Now I feel unsafe!

David: I’m sorry…

David: Would you like a knife?

J: I have a problem.

Veronika: Kill it.

J: Can you chill for like, two seconds?

Xander: Don’t go picking a fight with me. I could make your life difficult.

Ace, sarcastically: Wow. I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life.

Whit: Don't quote me on this, but I believe murder is illegal!

Ace: Come to think of it… You’ve always been nice to me.

Ace: I mean, you listen to all my problems-

Levi: No, Ace I just simply stand here while you talk, there’s a big difference.

Eden: You know what I learned from my friendship with Ace?

Nico: There’s no such thing as too mean?

J: Never let your friends know for sure if you like them?

Levi: Always hold a grudge?

Levi: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you.

Nico: Being a fish.

Levi: …Well, shit.

David: I don’t mean to be rude—

Teruko: Yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often.

Hu: "Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."

David: ...

David: What a stupid fucking quote.

David: I'm killing way more than two people, idiot.

Eden: You know, Teruko, when you generalize, you tell general... lies.

Teruko: ...

Teruko: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

Levi: Hey, Ace, do you have feelings for me?

Ace: Yeah, anger.

[deacons-wig]

I'd prefer if we never got to see the origin of Vault Boy and Vault Tec's branding in the same way I'd rather not get a canon answer of who started the War or how. That's the point of War Never Changes.

Vault Boy is a sinister figure in his cheerful embrace of Armageddon. Giving the Vault Tec brand a face and a name and a backstory feels so unimportant to what is actually interesting about Fallout. What's important to me is the big picture pre war, and the details of what comes after.

What is interesting to me is exploring how propaganda is designed to convince people how close they are to annihilation--or homelessness, unemployment, obscurity, or being The Other and therefore destined to suffer--in hell, in oppressions, being ostracized. Honestly insert any sort of marginalization or suffering here. Crony capitalism uses propaganda to market products designed to manipulate people into buying distance between themselves and that annihilation. Putting themselves "behind the thumb" of Vault Boy, so to speak. Buying a lifestyle. Vault Boy does it with a wink and a smile, inviting those who can afford it to buy their way to safety while using capital and fear to perpetuate the cycle. I don't need the specifics to understand this.

Some ghoulnaysis below the cut:

I'll admit, my initial reaction to pre-war Ghoulgins being the inspiration for Vault Boy was funny! Mr. Cooper Howard, washed up actor experiencing an existential crisis being shoehorned into corporate propaganda that then haunts him for the next 200+ years? Selling manifest destiny, racism, the Rugged Individual, the revisionist history that cowboys were a) white and b) more than a brief footnote in the history of the colonization of North America's west. The commodification of entertainers/creatives/public figures. Selling identities to be packaged into a product that will outlive them? Only to have that person live alongside that role they regret (?) playing... kinda tasty, if we have to give Vault Boy a backstory, though I didn't get a clear sense of his actual feelings about being used as a propaganda guy which I think is a failure of the show to commit to the narrative they set up, which happens with a lot of the show's (lack of) engagement with Fallout's larger themes anyway.

But The Ghoul (stupid name!!! weird and boring choice!!!) is just such an uncompelling and repellent character to me. I love a good bad guy or even anti-hero, but honestly he lacks any interiority. He's an evil karma character (eats people, waterboards and mutilates people, sells people to organ harvesters...like? that literally makes you evil in the games...) but the narrative pushes him as an antihero or someone with gray morality because he what..."likes" dogs? And isn't as decayed or unsettling looking as other ghouls (implying handsome=good or interesting). People aren't afraid of him because he is a ghoul, they're afraid of him because he's evil and will hurt them! Sometimes for no reason! I see the callback to the director telling him to shoot his co-star and Cooper saying he's "the good guy," but is that why he becomes so fucking evil post war? Really?

I don't know why he does what he does other than...the world sucked before and sucks now so he might as well represent the basest of human behavior? That seems to be the thesis of the show--unless kindness and community is engendered (by the vaults, by Management, by a civic government, by corporations) people will descend into chaos.

So why have this poorly executed anti-hero be the origin of Vault Boy? What are the narrative choices being made here? Is it just Rule of Cool?

Personally I would like a pathetic, rotting wet cat of a ghoul, some sort of carved out husk of a washed up movie star either trying to relive his glory days, or avoid them--having given up hope of finding his family after 200 years--being dragged into Lucy's orbit and being constantly reminded of his Vault Boy fame, that she is a walking Vault Girl with her Okey Dokey's and Golden Rule. He'd be a joke, a footnote of the old world. He'd be mean and snarky, even unpredictable and uncooperative--have a public persona of friendly curiosity and a private, cynical one.

Pathetic Ghoulgins would remind audiences of the cost of capitalism and imperialism without resorting to the thesis that war never changes means that people are inherently cruel and will resort to violence, rather than existent corporate and political power structures intentionally create the conditions in which people accept perpetual cycles of exploitation and harm for the sake of their own safety and comfort, despite knowing the cost of maintaining the status quo, and not seeing or believing that distance between the status quo and total annihilation is measured by the smiling thumbs up of a cartoon mascot.

I'm sure there are other ways The Ghoul could have been a successful character as well but.... That's satire. That's interesting. That's Fallout.

[pricegouge]

Chapter 4 of haul was so good! I was terrified in the best way.

I can’t help but think about doll in the distant bestworst outcome universe. Maybe she’s been with the team for almost a year. The longest anyone’s lasted between the captives doing something stupid or the boys getting bored and playing too rough with their toys.

They never seem to get bored of doll though. She keeps them just entertained enough that they (mostly) keep from breaking her.

Maybe they start getting antsy about not being able to play as meanly as they want to though. By this time, Doll has learned how to navigate tempers and sensitive buttons and has mostly free rein of the warehouse. So they bring in someone new that they can bite into without worrying about the scars and the blood loss. And doll has to experience a fresh wave of horror trying to balance the want to help vs the relief that it’s not her down there.

Hii! thank you! and thank you for all the brain worms! This is underdeveloped but I spent far too long on it as it is so behold

link to the main fic. this is non-canonical!

cw: implied character death, rape/non-con mentioned, heavy angst

Her name is Lauren and she fucking hates you.

It's understandable. You'd hate you too, if the roles were reversed. You can't help but wonder sometimes, what you must look like from her perspective. Kept, docile. Complicit.

It was Johnny who let slip the possibility of an upcoming 'hunt' to you one morning, and the resulting panic had been near enough to undo all the progress you'd made with them - all the work you'd put in gaining their trust. One mention of being replaced and you'd turned into the frightened little thing they'd first dragged home all those months ago in an instant, inconsolable for days. It had earned you time in the hood (bulky, blinding; one of your least favorite punishments) before finally John took you into his lap to assure you they weren't going to kill you.

"The boys are restless. Just want another toy is all, doll. Someone we can be a little more rough with. Just means we like you too much, doesn't it?"

You hadn't responded to that because there was no good answer. "Will she… is she gonna stay down here with me?"

John had leered at you in an unfamiliar way. "Looking for a friend, is that it? Tell you what. We'll make it a game. If you can get the poor thing to like you more than she does us, we'll share her with you. How's that sound?"

It sounded horrible so you shouldn't have been let down when John had set you up for failure, but then it turned out the only thing worse than having Lauren's submission, was having her hatred.

On Lauren's second night there, John brings you to sleep in his bed. You eat breakfast with them the next morning at the table, like you do on the days John wants you to act like his secretary - just another employee at the break room. It's not an uncommon occurrence, but neither is it a treat you ever hold your breath for. 

He does the same thing the third night.

By the teenth night, you see what he's up to.

"What do they make you do when you're up there?" Lauren asked as you finger combed her hair for her somewhere around her seventh day. The only kind human contact you've had in nearly a year. It was hard not to sink into her, smell her hair or do something equally unsettling, but she was tense beneath your fingers enough as it is - a bunny with a fox in her lair. She didn't trust you. Hadn't since the first time Johnny had come barging in and taken her right there in front of you while she'd screamed for help.

And you'd just sat there, shell-shocked, too scared of the knife he kept in his boot because you knew the taste of it too well.

("We could've taken him," she'd sobbed, after. "Together, we could've fought him off." 

It had made you sick later, thinking about it. No one had responded to your ringing in time and you'd made a mess of your bucket for the first time in months.

John had made Lauren clean it.)

True to their word, they play meaner with Lauren than they have with you in a long while. They make you watch more often than not because John's determined to turn the two of you against each other, and he knows you're too afraid of the consequences to try stepping in to stop them. You hate them - hate yourself. Hate Lauren for not understanding your predicament. At night, you lay trapped between warm bodies and think about all you've had to suffer through to earn the right to do so and you feel bitterness build in you. Then the next morning you're brought below so the boys can concentrate on work and you're faced with the battered body of your fellow prisoner and you ache because deep down you know -

You're glad it's her.

You're just as bad as them. Whether they've carved you into a shape they like or you've simply excised enough of yourself as to be unrecognizable, it doesn't matter. When you look at yourself in the mirror now you see only the marks they've left within and without. Some days you imagine gaining Lauren's trust back, fighting off your captors and running away with her; others, you wonder where you could ever be welcome again.

Lauren stays for two months, all told. You don't know what happens to her. One morning you're brought to your room same as usual and she's just gone. Her scent and her clothes along with her. You're less glad then.

After two days, you start searching the room for blood, for any sign really of what happened though you don't really know why. Closure, maybe. Caution, probably. You find nothing, regardless.

They break out the hood again when a week passes and you've not gotten any better. While he puts it on, John asks if you miss your friend, if that's why you've been so glum.

"What did you do to her?" Spit out before he can fasten it properly.

He pauses. You can't see him but the way he tugs at your laces feels slower, more contemplative. "Ask what you really want to know." 

You want to know what they did with her body, if her family will ever know what happened to her. You want to know if his chest ever hurts in the middle of the night, or if the structural integrity of the warehouse is likely to collapse on your little room any time soon, swallow you whole. It's not what he wants to hear. You know because you're getting good at this, no matter who made it so. "Will you do it again?"

"That depends on you, doesn't it?"

[mediumsizedfountain]

So, let's talk about major franchises playing with different genres. Specifically, Star Wars; The Acolyte.

Marvel/Disney has had mixed results with their genre experiments. They've tried espionage thriller with sometimes brilliant and sometimes horrible results. Their experiments with sitcoms have been similarly mixed. They've done a good job with teen coming of age. And etc.

So it makes sense that Star Wars/Disney would give genre experiments a chance. The espionage thriller of Andor was a resounding success, so why not try for more?

That brings us to The Acolyte.

I think one of the big mistakes they made was marketing it as a noir-ish mystery. If it's put in that category, it's definitely a failure.

But that's not what The Acolyte is.

The Acolyte is dark Romantasy in a Star Wars setting. Everyone who is a fan of the Romantasy genre is really enjoying the show. People who expected noir mystery are hating it.

This isn't a story or writing problem, (though the pacing could have been improved). It's a marketing problem.

If Disney had the guts to market this as a dark Romantasy, then viewers would have had correct expectations.

As a dark Romantasy, I think the show was both successful and entertaining.

If it doesn't get a season 2, I blame the Disney marketing department for not having the guts to admit they were making a dark romance, because that's for "girls," and they still don't think the core Star Wars audience would accept a "girl show."

Cowards.

Anyway, if you are a fan of dark/Gothic Romantasy, check out The Acolyte. You'll probably like it.

[sparklingyandere]

Cabin Anthology

Childe/GN! Reader

summary: a somewhat broken darling reflects on their captivity

word count: 2.5k 

warnings: stockholm syndrome, violence, asphyxiation, childe is called ajax, manipulation, abuse, dissociation, codependence, anxiety and paranoia, neglect

Sometimes, Ajax went away for long periods of time.  

He would leave the pantry barely stocked, forcing you to ration for yourself for archons-know how long, and he'd lock away all the matches and kindling so the cabin was always freezing. 

In your first few weeks in your new home, he left only for hours or days at a time, returning with food or firewood, never warning you when he'd come back.

At first, you used that time to the fullest, scrambling through every inch of the little cabin he kept you in, searching for any secrets you could exploit.

You thought about escaping so often then, your every waking moment spent contemplating how you'd do it, convincing Ajax you could be left alone, and biding your time until the perfect opportunity. 

Then, your opportunity came. Ajax, seemingly out of nowhere, gifted you a novel written in your home country, which he must have had imported just for you.

"Here, to keep you entertained while I'm gone," he said, the word ‘gone’ attracting your attention more than the gift itself, "I'm going on a… a trip. For a week." He was coy about this 'trip,' as if you were dumb. "Can I trust you here by yourself for that long, darling?" he asked, cupping your cheek tenderly, in stark contrast to his threatening words. His tone was playful, but you picked up on the ‘hidden’ warning. Regardless, you nodded your head eagerly, promising good behavior, ushering him out the door. A whole week! You could be halfway to Natlan by then. 

-

The following attempt was such an explosive failure, you remember it like it was yesterday. Ajax unexpectedly came back from his trip several days early, swinging the wooden door wide open with a call of your name- only to see you knelt on the floor before him with a pin in hand- you had been caught red-handed picking the lock.

Time seemed to be still in that moment, you remember struggling to read Ajax's blank expression, his dead eyes seeming to look through you, not at you. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the arm and flung you out the door into the Snezhnayan winter. 

It was cold. You held your arms out to catch your fall and they were buried almost to the elbow in freezing snow. You turned back to look at Ajax, who was glaring at you from the doorframe.

"You want out there? Fine." He slammed the door shut and clicked the lock. 

Shivering, you looked around and saw, for the first time, the outside of your cozy prison. It rested in a wide clearing surrounded by a dense pine forest that seemed to stretch forever. Over the trees, distantly, you saw mountains. 

You tried to stand up on your wobbly, trembling knees, struggling to find balance in the thick snow. You quickly came to realize that you were severely underdressed for this cold, in only thin, loose fabric. No worries, you could still make this work. After all, you were outside, that was the hard part, really. 

Luckily, you could see Ajax's trail of smushed snow and walk through his bootprints. Every barefooted step towards the treeline was pure torture, but hopefully you could follow the trail to wherever Ajax was coming from. 

The frosty air seemed to seep quickly through your flesh and into your bones. You could barely feel your feet, extremities already becoming numb and legs getting stiff, but you forced yourself to keep going. You had to try. 

You looked back towards the cabin; smoke was now pouring from the chimney. You thought about the warm fire Ajax must have lit, you longingly pictured the thick fur coat he had been wearing when he opened the door, and you felt… 

Hopeless. You were never getting out of here.

You took a few more wobbly steps, so close to the treeline. Maybe I can use sticks to make a fire, you thought, the snow is thinner under the trees, surely it will be smooth sailing from there. You managed another step before your knees gave out and you felt the cold hug of the snow. Snowflakes melted instantly against your warmer skin, leaving you freezing and wet. 

You close your eyes. At least you tried.

Some time (minutes, hours?) later, you felt your cold body being lifted from the snow and wrapped in something soft and warm. Instantly, you cuddled into it, coherent thoughts slowly returning to your mind. You're so relieved that you're alive, you forget where you are, you don't even bother to open your eyes and simply snuggle closer into the warmth. 

You yelp in surprise when you're suddenly dropped onto the hard, dry floor. 

Ajax kneels over you, his usually sharp features downturned with concern.

You stared at him blankly for a moment, your still-foggy brain swirling with conflicting emotions. You struggled over whether to be angry or thankful, but in the end, the only thing that mattered to you in that moment was that you were so cold, and Ajax was so warm. 

You crawl forward into his arms, which wrap around you perfectly, like two thick, heavy blankets. He hugs you tightly, a warm hand gently combing through your hair. “‘m sorry,” you whimper, bluish lips barely able to form the words you want to say. 

"What did we learn?" He asked gently, his voice was barely a whisper, but his hot breath against your neck felt like a kiss.

You didn't try to escape again after that. 

-

Ajax's love was like quicksand. It sucked you in and suffocated you, much like the man himself. When he wasn't out for 'business' (he always tiptoed around the subject, like you didn't know who he was) he was attached to you at the hip. 

Tonight was one such night. A blizzard raged outside, making it impossible to see out the frosty windows. The cabin was dark, and you sighed through chattering teeth, these stormy nights were among the creepiest, the gravity of your situation being significantly more difficult to ignore. Ajax had his arm slung over your shoulder, a thick quilt- sewn by his mother as a housewarming gift- settled around both your shoulders. You could barely make out the curves of his face in the dim lighting, but you didn't need to see him to feel his gaze.

He lifted a nimble hand to stroke your face. His calloused hand was cold too, freezing and rough, and you flinched away, shivering. Despite that, he smiled. "Is my bunny cold?" he teased. 

"No," you whined, unconvincing, curling the blanket ever tighter around yourself as Ajax pulled away from you, taking his body heat with him. He strode over to the stone fireplace along the far wall of your small living den, and you watched him kneel before it, lamenting the Ajax-shaped emptiness in the seat next to you. 

You intently watched Ajax strike a match, a small, orange light illuminating his face. The dark shadows contrasting the warm glow made his face look strangely creepy, but also accentuated his sharp, strangely handsome features. You couldn't help but smile weakly as he kindled the little match into a flame. Ajax always kept you warm, you couldn't survive a place like this without him. you wouldn't be in a place like this without him, part of you thinks, a small, quiet part that gets quieter every day. You smother the thought. 

The fire steadily grew, warmer and brighter, and Ajax turned to you, smiling expectantly. You snapped out of your thoughts and sit up straight. "Thank you, Ajax," you mutter, obediently.

He opens a storage chest by the fireplace and pulls out a hardcover book and some pillows. "Won't you come sit with me?" he orders, and you crawl off the sofa, pulling the blanket alongside you, to sit on the wooden floor next to Ajax. The warm light of the fireplace allows you to see his book in more detail. Snezhnayan Fairy Tales, it looks old: faded, greyish-brown covers and a fancy title typed in an outdated font. It's edges were slightly frayed, worn down from being held by so many hands. 

Ajax settles a pillow between his legs and invites you to lay in his lap. You do so, letting the heat from the fire combined with his warmth sink deeply into you, making you sleepy. Ajax cracks open his dusty book- literally, it makes a crack sound as it opens, possibly for the first time in years- flips the pages to a random story and starts reading to you in a gentle, coddling voice.

Naively, you think to yourself that this perfect evening could only be better with a warm cup of cocoa, as if this was normal, cute even, like you were lovers on a couples retreat. You don't have much time to ponder before Ajax's voice lulls you soundly to sleep.

-

Ajax was haunted by a hunger you could never sate; his dull, deep-blue eyes glazing over with a need you didn't understand. He would suddenly vanish, unannounced, in the middle of the day, often leaving you wondering how long you'd be forced to fend for yourself in your freezing hellscape. 

Hours later, he'd stumble through the main door, cheerful like nothing had happened, the light having returned to his eyes, making him look almost sane. Usually, you were so happy he hadn't left you for dead, you could ignore the mysterious stains on his clothes- they were probably there before- and the faint, rusty odor he carried. 

(If you dared ask where he went, he'd dance around the topic, merely chastising you for poking your nose where it ‘doesn't belong,’ changing the topic to something he deemed appropriate for you. The double life he had, for some reason, he was desperate to keep it secret from you, like he thought you couldn't handle it.)

You recall one dark day in particular, in which you had awoken from a peaceful slumber to a completely empty house…

-

Ajax rarely let you wake up alone, so you were instantly on edge. Tentatively, you explored each room, one by one, calling out Ajax's name. Each second you couldn't find him, your yelling became increasingly panicked, breathing becoming more and more erratic. So what if he isn't home, you tried to console yourself, to no avail, he leaves all the time… except, since the incident, he never left without saying goodbye. 

Where had he gone? What if he was finally bored of you- you had been settling a bit too much into routine lately- and he abandoned you here to freeze to death? 

You paced back and forth through the house for what felt like hours, mind racing with worst-case scenarios. In truth, you had no idea what time it was, but when the faint glow through the windows transitioned from yellow to orange to silver, you officially feared the worst. 

Unable to control your anxiety, you sank to your knees and let out a desperate scream. It was over, Ajax was gone and you'd either freeze or starve- 

The door creaked open, Ajax's concerned, but chipper voice echoing in your ears, “Bunny? You okay? I heard-” 

You jerk your head up, teary eyes making contact with Ajax's beautiful face as he finally walks in, and you start sobbing with relief. You leap to your feet and throw yourself onto him. Seeing your sorry state, Ajax chuckles and wraps his arms around you, “Aww, I missed you too, cutie” He teases, and even through your hysterics, you find the energy to be angry. 

“You left! How could you laugh at me-?” You hiccup through your sobs, only tickling Ajax more. You beat your fists against his chest angrily, to no effect. “I was so…” you trail off with a sniffle. 

Ajax manages to quiet his blatant snickering long enough to cajole you, taking your swinging fists in his hands to still them. “It's okay, Bunny, I'm here now… I would never leave you, silly.” His condescending tone is not lost on you, but you are too exhausted from bawling to care, finally giving into him. Just as you always do. One of his hands presses against the back of your head, holding you against his chest and gently stroking your scalp. The soothing gesture makes you just sleepy enough that when he scoops his free arm under your knees, you don't resist. 

-

You and Ajax both worked quite hard to maintain the flimsy illusion that this relationship was any kind of happy, any semblance of normal. Your sanity depended on it, but even so, the facade sometimes slipped. 

The murky, cold dishwater swallows your hands up to your wrists. You mindlessly scrub porcelain, staring at the reflective metal basin. Your reflection is warped by the water, you barely recognize yourself. Not that you could anyways.  

You look back at your failed attempts to resist or reason with him and cringe. Each night spent locked in the cellar, until your fists ached from banging the door and your voice was raw from crying out to him, still haunted you. 

That cellar- he must have had it built just to torture you- it had never been used for anything else. It was a wide, empty room with four concrete walls and a filthy dirt floor. Once, you stupidly tried to exploit your cellar time by digging a hole in the corner, trying to burrow out like some…

Like some kind of bunny. 

Of course, you got caught, when Ajax came down the creaky steps to fetch you (maybe he found your lack of wailing suspicious) with a storm lantern in hand. By the light of the lantern, your little crater, only a few inches deep, was all-too visible. He was so angry, he…

…You put your hands over his, not prying them away, just holding tightly onto him. Though you are pleading with your eyes for him to let you go, secretly, deep down, you hope that he won't, because the warmth of his hands and the burning in your lungs makes you feel alive. It makes adrenaline course through your nerves in a terrible, exciting way that you learned to love, because if you didn't, you wouldn't survive…

You shudder at the memory. Best not to think about it. 

A warm hand resting itself on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts. You jump away from the touch, skittish, and Ajax laughs. Over the years, you had come to hate that melodic sound, as it always seemed to be at your expense. 

You pull your hands from the water to see that they were pruned and wrinkly. How long have you been standing here?

“S-sorry, Ajax, I don't know what's gotten into me…” you mutter, still coming to terms with the reality you were in. 

His hand on your shoulder trailed down your arm, eventually clasping your still-wet hand. “That's okay, Bunny, you'll make it up to me,” he remarks playfully. Before you can ask how, he starts pulling you with him down the hall. 

In the end, though, you know it doesn't matter. You'd do anything to keep him happy, and not just because your life might depend on it. You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, and certainly never to him, but you knew why. 

Sometimes, you think he knew it, too. 

[nanowrimo]

Write Meow! 4 Writing Tips Cats Teach Us

Did you know cats have a lot of wisdom about the writing process? It's because of their cat lifestyles! NaNo Participant Megan Jenkins lets us know what our wise cat friends can teach us about writing.

“Cats are too human-like,” my friend complained while explaining to my cat-lady-self why she’s a dog person. I laughed, but after pondering my cat’s behavior, I realized just how much cats can teach us about becoming a better human, and more importantly, a better writer. (Arguably.)

Here are a few writing lessons we can learn from cats.

1. Have a Routine

As someone who rolled her eyes at this advice for years, I still cannot believe that my cat hoodwinked me into a morning routine. 

My cat was right though. 

Writing for 15 minutes during my cat’s breakfast has me writing more than ever before. While 15 minutes may not seem like a lot, giving yourself prompts for the next session and having consistent sessions helps you accomplish more than you would think.

Also, cats are great accountability partners. If you stray from their routine, they will meow loudly and slap you with their paw. (Or is that just my cat?)

2. Take Breaks

Before my cat, my writing process was to write for hours at a time on a random weekend day. This process was exhausting and made me feel like I had to block an entire day for writing, which is becoming increasingly impossible. 

However, cats inherently know the importance of taking breaks and stepping away from screens, which is why they sit in front of our keyboards and computers when we spend too much time on them (I assume). 

One way to remember to take breaks is to participate in writing sprints, in which writers write together for a set time. 

For any fellow introverts, the Pomodoro Technique, in which you work for 25 minutes then break for 5 minutes with a longer break after four rounds, has been shown to increase productivity. 

You might hesitate to try sprints or Pomodoro like I did because you love to emerge yourself in your writing for hours. However, I have found that both methods have built my endurance, allowing me to write longer. 

Plus, the frequent breaks to entertain my cat prevent her from hijacking my keyboard. 

3. Prioritize Meals

Cats are grazers, meaning they eat several small meals throughout the day, which they do not like to miss. 

Unlike my cat, I skipped meals all the time. I couldn’t be like Pippin in The Lord of the Rings asking for second breakfast while on an important quest!

However, modeling my cat, I now prioritize my eating. While it may not work for everyone, eating throughout the day gives me energy to write after work, not just rewatch The Lord of the Rings.

Since you are likely not on a quest to eliminate all evil, try prioritizing eating, like cats (and hobbits) do, and see how it impacts your writing. 

4. Focus on the Present

Do you sometimes focus so much on the past or the future that you forget about the present? I do. With NaNoWriMo especially, I tend to over-plan and dwell on any minor failures. 

Cats don’t do this. Cats live in the present, and while cats learn from their past, they do not dwell on their failures or worry about the future. Instead, cats deal with problems when they arise.

Similarly, do not torture yourself if you have a bad writing day (or week or month) or worry about every what-if. Instead, use the past to improve your current writing session.

As NaNoWriMo begins, I hope what I have learned from cats’ behavior helps remind you to have a healthier relationship with writing, which is ultimately the goal of NaNoWriMo. Besides the 50k.

Megan is a business risk and control advisor at a financial institution. The rest of her time, she spends dreaming of fantastical places. Her love for language led her to obtain a BA in English with a concentration in professional writing and an MA in Technical Communication and Rhetoric. When she is not writing, reading, or editing, she also enjoys traveling, watching movies, and spending time with her family and cat, Sophie. Connect with her on Linkedin or Goodreads!

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