#and that pointer is able to indicate two different time systems at the same time how?

[bogkeep]

originally for my thesis i was gonna like, focus on each aspect of the prague astronomical clock like its history, its function, and its design separately - but even other than this scope was way too big for me, the design IS the function. like, obviously, It's A Clock........ but! the reason the face plate has multiple colors is because they represent the time of day. the blue field is day, the orange is dawn and dusk, and the black circle is night. the placement of the sun symbol indicates the placement in the day cycle. I Know I Know It's A Clock Of Course It Does That but it's different to how we're used to reading clocks in this day and age.

anyway it reminded me of first year of watchmaker school, when we were learning to blue steel, a process that gives steel a specific material quality and also turns it blue. you might see high end watched that have blue hands and blue screws, for example, and it's not Just for the aesthetic, it's a sign of quality, but it has BECOME a preferred aesthetic BECAUSE of the quality. my teacher asked me if i, as a former art history student, knew whether it was common for something to Become Beautiful because it was a Desired Quality. i didn't have a good answer at the time but i have clearly not stopped thinking about it. i think it's a kind of survivorship bias - something can be the most aesthetically pleasing and beautiful but it won't really matter if it crumbles to dust within a couple years and there's no way for future generations to appreciate it. it doesn't make it less beautiful, only that we have no clue it ever existed. so in that sense, the beauty of functionality persists

[master-sass-blast]

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

[chemicalpink]

Hey, I hope you are doing good this was a thing that was wondering me so there are lot of bts future spouse /soulmate/twinflame videos being made on youtube and honestly everyone is being psychic like it has become a shitshow and what was previously just for curiosity fun and entertainment are becoming extremely emotionally invested in the topic especially for maknae line soulmate it would be interesting if the can do a tarot reading or your spiritual experience why is the future spouse saga turning ugly and does universe what us to know something through it !? Because it's becoming pretty crazy right now

Okay so I believe that yes, the spiritual part has a lot to do behind this occurrence, but I also think its roots lay on psicosocial matters and honestly I could go on for days about this but I’ll try to restrict it to a few points that you’ve mentioned

Why all of a sudden everyone seems to be tarot readers/astrologers/psychic?

The capitalism behind celebrities and how does that play a part in what is going on?

Are these people accurate at all?

How does energy shifting play a part in this?

Is the soulmate journey even something a third person would be able to note?

But first a Disclaimer: this opinion/rant is based on my experience with spirituality, I am obviously a mere mortal, so I do not hold the absolute truth. Spirituality is a constant learning process and it is open to discussion and interpretation of each person. I am also now a proud sociologist graduate that specialises in a lot of the stuff that has to do with what anon is asking, I’m a social behaviouralist applied to the entertainment industry as well but I’ll also provide my resources in the end.

A/N: Some of you might not yet be ready to read all of this, if I see ANY of you trying to start beef with me, even after the disclaimer, I'm gonna block you. If you want to talk more about it or want to discuss it further, DO SO OFF ANON. ISTG you’ve been warned, I’ve been working on this for the longest time, it even has resources to back all of it up! I’m so glad anon asked, I’m done being diplomatic on this topic (I know people that usually ask stuff are so respectful and i love you guys for it, this note is for those people that regularly jump on my asks to stir things up)

You guys are in for a whole academic article if you decide to read this

SO FUN AND EXCITINGGGG Let us start with behavioural economics as our base to understand the whole phenomenon, it's such a broad and kinda complex concept (especially since I’m trying to extrapolate it to this particular scenario) so let me do my best. It has a lot to do with trend following, although at least to me, it's unclear how exactly this content came to be (soulmate readings, channeling messages, etc) I am guessing it had something to do with an intersectionality between the general spirituality boom that we’ve met with during the pandemic and some person that just as any other marketable opportunity, saw a bridge between fandom life and this spiritual life (both prominent trends in the last two years or so) and honestly, it worked perfectly, whatever their initial intentions were, they threw out a new “product” and it kind of sold itself, two different trends coming together… turned into a behavioural game theory where if you played the part that allows your content to be consumed, you’ll get rewarded for it. In more simple words, tarot meets fandoms (alternatively, tarot meets BTS) is great as it is! but the fan behaviour (which we’ll talk about in a bit) positions the most private parts of the celebrities’ lives to be much more interesting than things that we are already able to see (personal experience, love readings do so much better than idk career readings and it all comes down to behavioural trends of perceiving ‘love’ as something very intimate)

Now, this is where we’ll begin to talk about capitalism as a whole, even in non-monetary systems like social media, where it takes more of a rewarding system via likes, views, reblogs, etc. The whole principle of us living in such a system is being aspirational, we see others profiting off of something, we might want to reach out and do the same so we can profit ourselves, which honestly, I think is what happened with the whole BTS soulmate readings boom, they get a lot of attention, and as a basic market law, as demand goes up and a few people that initially did these readings are no longer capable to satisfy the need of the people wanting to know all the tea, there are market opportunities for other people to do the same thing and increase the offer, although since this whole theory is behavioural, it is very context-dependant, which ends up not following the principle of the consumers being rational about how much and what content they consume, they just sort of consume all of it, regardless of whether the content creator is qualified to offer such content or not, which ultimately only adds onto a never ending cycle of more people claiming they are tarot readers/astrologers/psychics and fear nothing because this is the internet, you don't really have to enter any qualifications to be able to create content, whether someone is reliable in internet terms is basically all about how many likes they’ve got (which is why I always tell you guys to please consume content responsible).

When it comes to accuracy- I guess that’s the hardest part of all, we can’t just have pointers that would automatically tells us if someone’s craft is valid or not, since everyone’s craft is different all craft is valid to a certain extent (you can easily find scammers of course but that’s another story) what we can have are personal standards and deciding what content to consume or whose content to consume, but that’s entirely a personal decision and since so many people are invested in it- it seems really hard that these “market tendencies” might change any time soon. On that same note of accuracy, I really feel the need to talk about a major occurrence I’ve come across in this whole soulmate scene, minors. Now, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a minor and approaching spirituality (I was very much a minor when I started) but there’s a huge difference between just playing around and deciding to create content for the whole world to have access to. Of course I’m aware not all tarot readers in the BTS fandom are minors, and ARMY is very diverse and even if they were only minors it would be wrong to invalidate them, but we can’t ignore the statistics of it when touching this particular topic, according to 2020 data, 50,31% of ARMY are below 18 years old, and 42,59% are between 18-29 but why is this important? because the exact historical and economic moment we are living in mainly impacts these two age groups, thus making all 92,90% of ARMY a potential target to consuming or falling in a behavioural game theory of creating this content without them necessarily being qualified for it. But hey, why do you keep talking about the importance of being qualified? Glad you asked, creating spiritual content all comes down to one amazing term: accountability.

And this will explore two main phases of it, one applicable for that 50,31% that could potentially be drawn to create spiritual content and other for the 42,59% that could potentially be dragged to creating that content without much spiritual knowledge. For the first one, it has a lot to do with cognitive aspects, young people tend to do stuff without much further thought about how their actions impact other people, which, as they should, they are kids, they shouldn’t have to worry too much about emotional responsibility as us adults do, furthermore, they are in life stages where they can’t really comprehend many abstract concepts that we later learn in life, and spirituality is one of those concepts, so they tend to just have fun with it with no regards on how their content might impact other minors (this is where the whole feeding a false scenario that is potentially delusional in exchange of more views, likes comes into play) on a more spiritual level, they also aren’t able to comprehend the boundaries of the celebrities they’re reading for, us readers have to always be careful about the information we give out since it is not ours to give. As for the second group, some of this is still applicable since theorists consider a full cognitive maturity until 23 years of age, but since it is very intersectional itself, i would found it more to a spiritual responsibility, since they are young adults, and if they haven’t been spiritually guided as kids, they’re most probably eager to learn and just awakening yet to some of them the drive to this spirituality is content creation instead of inner work, so they get their hands on a tarot deck, might kind of read a few things, call it a day and start reading for BTS (note: not all of them, I’m aware)

As for the maknae line being the most sought out people with this content, I guess it kinda makes sense now that I’ve said all of the information above, maknae line is closest to the age group of 92,90% of ARMY, so they instantly become more marketable to this content creation and the whole Game Theory that we are seeing. With all that being said, and just adding a note coming from my own spiritual experience, soulmates in any form are a difficult topic for a third person to prode, which is why I, personally, tend to not touch that topic, love is one hell of a concept, especially since we all have different conceptions of love and interpersonal relationships. I do know for a fact that there’s only so far we can go in terms of fated connections, like with astrology, but even then, we would have to know their birth times exactly (so we can check for any indicator or a soulmate connection), and/or compare BTS with the rest of the world’s population in order to accurately tell if someone has a soulmate synastry/overlay/composite with them. Also, soulmate journeys are intimate and we are all just fans, what right do we even have to look for things that do not and will never belong to us?

This is why I’m always telling you guys to PLEASE consume content responsibly! Really! Us content consumers also have our part to play that can help us get more accurate, more drama-free content

REFERENCES (what? you thought I was joking? they’re in alphabetical order)

ARMYCENSUS 2020

Loewenstein, G., O’Donoghue, T., & Rabin, M. (2003). Projection bias in predicting future utility. Quarterly Journal of Economics, 118(4), 1209-1248.

March, J. G. (1978). Bounded rationality, ambiguity, and the engineering of choice. The Bell Journal of Economics, 9(2), 587-608.

Markus, H. R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion and motivation Psychological Review, 98, 224-253.

Mazar, N., Amir, O., & Ariely, D. (2008). The dishonesty of honest people: A theory of self-concept maintenance. Journal of Marketing Research, 45(6), 633-644.

Murphy, S. T., & Zajonc, R. B. (1993). Affect, cognition, and awareness: Affective priming with optimal and suboptimal stimulus exposures. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 64, 723-729.

Samson, A., & Voyer, B. (2014). Emergency purchasing situations: Implications for consumer decision-making. Journal of Economic Psychology, 44, 21-33.

Schwartz, B. (2004). The paradox of choice: Why more is less. New York: Ecco.

Shah, A. K., & Oppenheimer, D. M. (2008). Heuristics made easy: an effort-reduction framework. Psychological Bulletin, 134(2), 207-222.

Thaler, R. H. (2015). Misbehaving: The making of behavioral economics. Allen Lane.

Thaler, R. H. (2008). Mental accounting and consumer choice. Marketing Science, 27, 15-25.

Wood, W., & Neal, D. T. (2009). The habitual consumer. Journal of Consumer Psychology, 19, 579-592.

[tog-centre]

10 Things to Look for When Searching for a Gynecologist

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. True for doctors in different fields. But a gynaecologist is one doctor that every woman wants to visit atleast once in her lifetime. For a good reason of course. One of your first steps as you prepare for this exciting and pivotal time in your life, pregnancy, you should be choosing the correct gynecologist in Jamaica. You must feel completely at ease with a gynaecologist, since he or she will accompany you throughout your exciting nine-month adventure, culminating in the birth of your bundle of joy.

What do they check for at the gynaecologist

Other than pregnancy or childbirth, if you're having problems with your reproductive system, such as heavy bleeding, severe cramping, or other troubling symptoms, you should see a gynecologist. Even if you're in ideal health, you should get frequent checks to make sure your reproductive organs are in good shape and stay that way.

How do I choose a good gynaecologist

Well there are two fields interwoven with this. A gynecologist is a doctor who focuses on the reproductive health of women. Obstetricians provide treatment to women during pregnancy and shortly after the birth of their child. They also give birth to children. All of these are things that an ob-gyn is trained to do. It would be ideal to visit obstetrics and gynaecology care centre Jamaica.

What should I know before going to the gynaecologist

Your ob-gyn will take care of some of your most essential health concerns, such as birth control, childbirth, and menopause. An ob-gyn can also conduct surgery for pelvic organ or urinary tract disorders, as well as screen for cancer and cure infections.

Because ob-gyns deal with such personal and delicate health matters, some women may be apprehensive about seeing one for the first time. You may be apprehensive or ashamed about allowing a doctor to examine the most intimate portions of your body. You might be hesitant to communicate your most personal concerns with an ob-gyn. In this article we will be discussing about few tips to help you choose your best gynecologist in Mandeville Jamaica.

How to find a good Gynecologist near me

Location

Considering the aspect of location is more a point of necessity than comfort. You will have to make  a monthly visit or two to your gynaecologist, so its wise to choose one which has offices at various locations in town. Obstetrics and gynaecology care centre Jamaica has offices at Spalding, Mandeville and Santa Cruz.Also consider:

Does her clinic/hospital have facilities for conducting various tests and investigations?

Does it have a pharmacy nearby?

Trust is imperative

You'll want to select someone with experience who you can trust because you'll be discussing your most private and sensitive health issues with this doctor. You wouldn't put your most private portions of your body in the hands of just anyone. That's why you should choose your ob-gyn with care.

Don't just pick a doctor's name at random from your health insurance provider list. Obtain a recommendation from a friend or family member. Find out about essential variables including the doctor's skills, experience, and bedside manner when you ask for recommendations.

Gynaecologist reviews

Read internet reviews to find out what other people have to say about your possible OB-GYN. Patient satisfaction surveys can reveal a lot about what to expect in terms of scheduling, availability, office environment, doctor approachability, and bedside manner, among other things.

A collection of patient comments and starred ratings is also available. A few negative reviews among many positive ones are probably unimportant, but hundreds of unfavorable reviews should be a major red flag.

Experience counts

Check out the credentials of the gynecologist in Jamaica while you're browsing online. You should be able to find the doctor's bio on the same websites that offer reviews, as well as on their practice's website. You should be able to see where the doctor went to medical school, how many years they've practiced, which hospital(s) they're affiliated with, and what their specialties are.

Personality:

During some of your most vulnerable moments, your gynecologist will be by your side. His or her bedside manners are really important. Is the doctor a nice guy? Is he or she upbeat and responsive? Is he/she approachable and friendly? Is he/she a good fit for you?

Every consultation takes time.

This is an essential factor since you don't want a doctor who rushes from one patient to the next without pausing. Always go for the person who is relaxed and patiently answers all of your questions.

Regardless of how busy she is, she should answer all of your questions and perform all of the necessary examinations.

Does the gynaecologist accept your insurance

When it comes to choosing a doctor, price is a major factor. If your gynecologist isn't in your network, you'll have to pay for your care out of cash, which can rapidly add up. To begin your search, check with your health plan to discover which gynecologists in your area are part of their network.

A comfortable communication

You want a doctor who will listen to you and take your concerns seriously. The best doctors don't give orders or preach to their patients; instead, they communicate with them in a two-way manner. This is the doctor who will perform your gynecologic exam and quiz you about your reproductive health in great detail. For the relationship to work, you must be entirely at ease with this individual.

Your gynecologist should be able to talk with you in simple terms. She should be able to answer all of your questions in layman's terms rather than medical jargon. She should be pleasant, kind, and attentive to your issues.

She should also keep you informed about how your pregnancy is progressing, any difficulties, and any further precautions or preparations you may require. Going to a doctor who does not communicate well with her patients is pointless.

What kind of additional access do you think you'll require?

During the week, most OB-GYN practices have conventional business hours. Is that sufficient for you, or do you require additional flexibility?

If seeing an OB-GYN during regular hours is difficult, investigate whether:

When the clinic is closed, you can reach out to an on-call doctor. When the clinic is closed, the doctor offers telemedicine services that allow you to have virtual appointments.

The doctor provides you with an online patient portal through which you can contact with them.

It saves them time and money on travel, increases communication with gynecologist in Jamaica , and aids in better health outcomes.

What are your thoughts on the practice as a whole?

Nurse practitioners and physician assistants are used by many practices to offer primary care. How well do you get along with the other doctors and nurses in the practice?

It's also important to see how the front and back office workers interact with you. They'll be the ones to contact most of the time, whether it's for arranging appointments, billing problems, or medication refills.

You might also wish to consider the practice's physical environment. Is the waiting room tidy and welcoming? Do the patient rooms appear to be well-organized and stocked? Is the equipment in good condition and appears to be reasonably new?

Where can I find a gynaecologist?

Though the clinic's appearance may appear to be trivial, it may be an indicator of how effectively the healthcare team will treat you. Finding the best gynecologist in Mandeville, Jamaica doesn't have to be stressful now that you have such a variety of information at your fingertips. And with these pointers in hand, choosing the right OB-GYN for you could be a lot easier than you think.

[i-write-and-therefore-i-am]

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Two)

Ugh! It’s been 3 whole months since I updated this story! This one is a bit long, so maybe it will make up for that? Anywho, in addition to this being a bit of a doozy, it’s kind of a filler chapter, which I hate to do but there ya go. I’m feeling a bit wonky about this part, but make sure to let me know how you feel about it. I hope you enjoy! (P.S.--Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!)

Previous--Next--First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Warnings: I don’t see any here!

Word Count: 2076 (!!For WhY?? Why can’t I write this much for my courses??)

It had been a few months since that first meeting, and it had become second nature for you to stop by his bookshop on the way home from work. You were grateful that Aziraphale didn’t actually want to part with any of his precious volumes, or else your poor bank account would definitely suffer. Because the shop was essentially the best sort of library you could imagine, it was incredibly easy to find a book to read. And because Aziraphale was the nicest man you had ever met, he was more than happy to let you find a comfy old chair to park yourself in whilst you read said book. This was how most of your days went recently, and it was, in fact, how this particular day had begun.

The door clicked shut behind you with the pleasant sound of bells that you had grown so fond of. You were in a good mood—you’d gotten a major promotion at work, which meant that although you’d have to work a few more hours, you’d be doing things that you enjoyed and getting paid more for them. Aziraphale had, for some reason unbeknownst to you, planned to cook dinner for the both of you today. You’d objected, not wanting him to go through all of the trouble of having to close his shop early to get dinner ready by the time you got out of work, but he’d persisted.

               “It’s a special occasion, Y/N!”

               “What is?”

               “Being alive, of course!”

You’d known that there was something more, but you ignored it in favor of relishing in the cozy affection that washed over you at how adorable this man could be. He could find wonder in the most trivial thing, which never failed to put a smile on your face. Even recalling moments like that, as you were doing now, could lift your spirits.

You wandered around the shop, browsing the shelves for any new additions. Aziraphale’s shop had quickly become your safe haven—a place that you could go and just relax with a good book and not have to worry about anything else. Soon, you had come to associate that feeling with the man himself. You hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a very long time, and it was refreshing, in an odd way, to feel like a teenager again. This was something new and unexpected, and perhaps it was just what you needed. Your inner monologue was cut off by Aziraphale calling your name from across the room.

“Y/N! You’re here! Just in time, everything is ready.” You turn and smile at him but frowned when you caught sight of the old grandfather clock standing by the sales counter.

“Already? I only got here a few minutes ago,”

“Oh, I wanted it to be ready for when you got here, so I started early—”

“But I got here almost an hour before I normally do! How are you finished already?” A flash of something unidentifiable crossed over his face, but it was quickly replaced with a charming smile.

“I must’ve forgotten to set the clock upstairs and started earlier than I had thought. A happy accident, no?” Again, the doubts in your mind vanished, and you found yourself grinning back at him. Ever the gentleman, he gestured for you to walk up the stairs in front of him. The smells coming from the second floor had drifted down slowly and were weaving themselves around you, making your mouth water in anticipation. When you got to the top of the staircase, Aziraphale darted around you to open the door to his flat.

Despite all the time that you had spent in his building over the past couple of months, you had never ventured up here. You doubted that you would even notice if you had—the flat had the same eccentric-yet-cozy feel to it that the bookshop did, except in the place of books there were hundreds of different knick-knacks. Some looked rather new, and others looked as though they had jumped straight out of a history book.

“This is where I live. Pardon the mess, I haven’t been able to find a good system of storing yet.” He started fiddling with a set of Russian dolls that were sitting on a side table but gave up as quickly as he started and turned back to you. You realized that he was waiting for you to say something.

“I love it. It’s…homey.” You smiled genuinely at him. In some ways, it felt more like home to you than anywhere else, but that was a revelation for another day. After a few seconds of slightly awkward standing, your stomach chose that exact moment to growl. Loudly.

“Where are my manners? You must be starving! Here, let’s get some food in you, alright?” He led you to his dining room, where you were immediately greeted with the most delicious-looking meal of your life.

“You made all of this for me?” You asked incredulously, not believing your eyes. The table in the center of the room was positively groaning under the weight of all the food Aziraphale had cooked. Somehow, every single one of your favorites had made it onto tonight’s menu, making your heart grow warm with the knowledge that Aziraphale listened to and remembered the things you told him. You looked up at his expectant face, feeling silly for getting so emotional over dinner.

“It’s wonderful, Aziraphale. Thank you.”

“Of course, my dear. Anything for you.” He moved to pull out the chair closest to you, indicating that you should sit down. “Shall we?”

Dinner was divine. The food you ate on that day was the best food you had ever, or would ever, eat, period. You insisted that Aziraphale was secretly a world-famous chef, an idea that he quickly shot down— “How on Earth could I be a world-famous chef in secret? Wouldn’t everyone know? It wouldn’t be much of a secret, Y/N.”—but you weren’t too sure. You ate more than your fill, but when Aziraphale suggested that the two of you end the night with a cup of cocoa by the fireplace, you couldn’t refuse.

And so, you found yourself sitting on Aziraphale’s worn tartan sofa, sipping the rich chocolate and staring into the flames. Aziraphale sat beside you, his cup resting nicely on his knee. Together you sat in comfortable silence for quite a while, giving you time to reminisce over the evening and, more importantly, your thoughts about the man who had orchestrated the whole thing.

You knew that you had developed a sort of crush on him, and it had become increasingly apparent in recent weeks. Your heart would pound harder the closer you got to his shop, and the second he would look up from his work and focus his attention on you, you could feel your cheeks start to burn. It was highly unlikely that he hadn’t noticed anything different about the way you acted around him, but you knew he was too kind to say something about it. The trouble was that the friendship you had built with him, the easy companionship that you found in each other, was too precious for you to risk losing it by telling him what you truly felt. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he only wanted you to be his friend, nothing more? Oh God, what if he was gay? You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but quickly looked away. Your anxiety was spiking, and you had to do something about it before—

“AZIRAPHALE!!” Both of you jumped, but thankfully most of your cocoa was gone so none of it spilled. Aziraphale was not so lucky, and he cursed as he looked down at his chocolate-covered lap.

“Damn!” You looked around for something to wipe it off with, but you couldn’t find anything. When you refocused on him, your brain short-circuited for a second. Aziraphale’s pants were now completely dry, with no chocolate on them whatsoever. He seemed to have gotten some on his hand though, because he had part of his pointer finger in his mouth, trying to suck the pain away. Loud footsteps were coming from the stairway outside the door of the flat, and you stared at each other in confusion.

The door was kicked off its hinges in the singular most dramatic entrance you could imagine. The strange man at the door seemed to be other worldly, like his very presence upended the balance of the Universe. Space rippled around him, giving one the impression that he was swaying back and forth, almost snakelike. He had the air of someone who was much much older than they appeared, which clashed atrociously with his spiked, modern haircut and his skintight jeans. It hurt your eyes just to look at him, but, like a car wreck on the M-25, you couldn’t look away. Somehow, even though he was wearing glasses the color of a black hole, you could tell that he was ignoring you entirely. You watched as he made his way to stand angrily in front of your friend. Aziraphale opened his mouth, but he was cut off.

“I’ve been calling you for day, you useless blob! I thought something had happened to you, Aziraphale! In case you’ve forgotten, we are in this together. If we fuck up, it will be the actual end of the world. I—who the Heaven is this?” The man turned to peer at you through his sunglasses, frowning as if you were a spot on the sofa, and not a living, breathing person sitting there instead. Suddenly he turned back to Aziraphale, so you could no longer see his face, but his body language changed drastically—he looked dangerous, like an animal ready to pounce. When he spoke his voice was mocking, dripping with derision.

“Really? You mean to tell me that this pathetic waste of space is what has you tied up? Didn’t you learn anything from the last time you tried it on with a mortal? I knew you were dense, Angel, but not stupid—” Aziraphale was up before your brain could process that he had moved at all. He was now standing toe-to-toe with the stranger, which would have looked unimpressive if Aziraphale had not been so obviously full of rage that it practically radiated off of him. The taller man looked down his nose at Aziraphale but said nothing.

“Don’t you ever speak about her in that filthy way again.” Where the tall man’s voice had been unsettling, Aziraphale’s was downright terrifying. You had never heard him sound so threatening, and you’d seen someone try to buy his first edition of Gutenburg’s Bible. It sent shivers down your spine, and your instincts kicked in. You rose from your seat, backing away from the escalating argument in front of you. The two men fought back and forth, and your heart sank further and further into the pit of your stomach. The night had started out so well, you had no idea when things had gone so wrong. You located your purse on the coffee table and picked it up, clutching it to your body.

“I’m going to leave now,” you tried, but to no avail. You cleared your throat, feeling like you were on the brink of tears. “I said, I’m going to leave now!”

That got their attention. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide when he saw you holding your purse, not to mention the way you seemed to be unconsciously cowering away from them. He reached out to you but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Th-thanks for dinner. I have an early day tomorrow and I should really head home.” You turned to leave. Your hand was on the doorknob when you heard Aziraphale’s voice from behind you.

“Will I see you tomorrow, then?” Your shoulders tensed, and you had to bite your lip against the—completely ridiculous—tears that spring up at the careful hope you could hear. You took a deep breath, and without answering, opened the door and left the little shop.

From the street, you could hear a tremendous noise coming from the second story window, like something quite large and heavy being thrown against the ground. You shuddered because deep down, you didn’t know if the stranger had done it, or if Aziraphale, sweet, loving Aziraphale had. You walked faster.

Tag List:

@chelsdub, @a-hoe-for-vanya, @lordbeezyprinceofhell, @ohfortheloveofchuck

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t.h — 15

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; fluff; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: You guys are the best. Ugh, but this chapter is like fluff max. Just fluff. And some swearing. But GOD SO MUCH FLUFF. And every TV show mentioned here is fictional soooo. Hope ya’ll like the last chapter!

Do keep a look out for my other stories, on queue! My main masterlist~

Word count: 2883

Series Masterlist

13 | 14 | 15

   “You’re set to meeting the casting director, this afternoon.” The director of the show told (y/n) over call.

Once that conversation ended, (y/n) felt a panic hit her system. It had been three days since her script was approved, and the team had jumped immediately to cast members. The previous cast had rejected the second attempt, all except Harrison and the other main character, a new artist named Chelsea Hayworth. It was strange, the show’s name was still the same but it felt like everything was starting from scratch, increasing her anxiety each day. Harrison had to personally tell her that this was how things worked, and that there was nothing to worry about now.

   The story was not a complicated one. Paint it Red was a series of three novels written by Theodore McLarsen, a writer (y/n) regretted not knowing before. She’d met the writer before finishing the script and he was a lovely person, encouraging her and also gave her pointers for certain scenes. The story was about Frank G. Richardson, an illegitimate son of a government employee who was running for office, and how his life changes after a tragic terrorist attack kills his family. His life changes after this, forcing him to somehow take up a role in the criminal underworld. One of the other main characters is his half-sister, Clara Richardson, played by Chelsea. But, the biggest dilemma was who may be cast as Henry, a drunk truck-driver by day and a mafia leader at night.

It was initially speculated that Sean Bean would play this role, but now he wasn’t. So the casting remained unclear. (y/n) noticed that her phone pinged, and saw a text message from Tom. A smile crept on her lips as she saw a picture of him with Tessa, asking her when she’ll be free for lunch. ‘I can’t join you for lunch today, sorry. Have to meet the casting director.’

She looks outside her window and sees how gloomy the weather was in London. It’s definitely going to pour, and it’s freaking September right now. Grabbing an umbrella, she headed to her car, fully intent on reaching the studio before it poured.

   On reaching the location, she spots someone she thought she’d never see again in years. Grinning rather cheekily, (y/n) made her way to Jenny, the reporter who had defamed her months ago, and greeted her.

   “What a nice day, isn’t it?” (y/n)’s voice was sickly sweet.

Jenny rolled her eyes, “(y/n).” She spat.

   Jenny, however, looked terrible. It was strange, and no matter how much bad blood the two shared, (y/n) always agreed that Jenny was quite the looker. However, at that second, she had bugs underneath her eyes, her skin was pale and her lips were chapped. She looked tired, and the cup of coffee in her hands indicated that Jenny had a headache. Having studied in the same college as the woman, (y/n) was aware that Jenny only had coffee when she had a headache.

Sighing, “Jen, are you alright?”

   “I’m supposed to meet your show’s casting director. And besides, look at you. Using your influence with Tom to gather fame. What a move.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes, “Jen, go home. I’ll tell Laurel to give you a call. You look horrible.”

   “Excuse me, I don’t need your pity—”

   “Jen, seriously. It’s going to pour, and I know you don’t have a car. The cab service around here is shite when it rains, just go. It’s not pity. You look like a talking corpse and you and I both know you’re not great behind the camera.”

Jenny scoffed. She looked at (y/n), who noticed Jenny’s gaze soften. The woman then sighed, threw the coffee cup into the trash and walked away. However, Jenny paused a bit and sighed, looking at the ground. Turning to (y/n), with a deadpan, she said, “You’re going to kick ass. You always do.”

(y/n) smiled and nodded, watching Jenny leave.

*

   “So, we have a candidate who we think might be good for the role of Henry.” Laurel said, grinning widely at (y/n).

   “Laurel, I trust you. And I have no clue about casting.”

   “I understand and use this knowledge fully against you. But, considering what Tom told me the other day, you might like this choice.” Laurel said, winking.

   “What do you mean?”

The two were inside the office that Laurel shared with (y/n) for the time being. It was a small space, but not too small—four windows that provided ample lighting for the room, two tables, one for each of them, and a cute couch on the right side. The room was quite minimalist, which (y/n) adored.

All of a sudden, the theme for Star Wars begin to play. (y/n) blinked, obviously knowing the tune, and stared at Laurel, who was sitting in front of her. (y/n)’s back faced the entrance to the office, and the woman stood up slowly.

   “What’s—”

As the theme progressed, (y/n) heard the door open, she finally saw that Laurel was recording this on her phone, and this finally hit her. (y/n)’s eyes widened and she turned to the door right away, revealing Mark Hamill with a blue lightsaber, walking toward her.

   “Fuck me,” (y/n) cursed, her hand going to her mouth, her fingers trembling. She could faint right then, she was sure this was a dream, there was no way this was real. There was no way Mark Hamill was in front of her, holding a lightsaber.

   “Fucking shit.” (y/n) cursed more, her face turning red as a tomato. She could hear Laurel laugh in the background, and Mark Hamill paused in front of her.

The music stopped and (y/n) let out another array of colorful terms, causing Mark to snicker a bit. She rubbed her hands over her face and froze as he handed her the lightsaber.

   “No fucking way, no fucking—” She took it and felt her eyes well with tears, which she blinked away rapidly or she’d not be able to see this clearly. “I cannot believe this.”

A smile rose to her lips as a blush rose to her cheeks. She looked at Mark and grinned, and he came forward and hugged her. He could feel how much she was shaking and he laughed some more.

   “Goodness, you’re shaking like a leaf!” He said, smiling widely at her.

   “I’m going to die—”

   “I really hope that doesn’t happen,” He said, ruffling her hair. “What is with you and your analogies on death? Even your tweet.” He turned to Laurel and nodded once.

   “I took a look at the script, I’m very glad to be a part of this.” Hamill said, standing right beside (y/n).

   “Oh my God.” (y/n) said, letting the tears fall. She turned to look at the door to see Tom and Harrison standing there, grinning at her.

   “You guys are horrible.” She said, still trembling.

   “I love you.” Tom said, laughing.

   “Honestly, (y/n), I sure hope you don’t keep shaking every time we meet because it’ll be a lot now that we’re working together.” Mark teased.

   “Mark Hamill is teasing me. I can die in peace.” She muttered.

   “I’m gonna take that lightsaber back if you don’t stop making those death jokes.”

*

Once that meeting was over, Tom and (y/n) headed out for lunch. Just as they exited the building, Tom grabbed her wrist and spun her around. Her face was still slightly red, a sight that made him chuckle at her, causing her to slap his shoulder.

   “Was that a joke?” She asked, shyly.

   “You’ve always wanted to meet him!”

   “Well, yes, but… Oh my God. I still cannot believe it.”

Tom kissed her forehead as he said, “It’s true, babe. Mark’s in your show.”

   “It’s not my show!” She fought, pushing him away playfully.

Tom laughed some more before entwining his hands with hers. He kissed her temple and put an arm around her waist, pulling her form to his. It had been three months since they got together, and it’s been lovely. When Tom was busy, (y/n) was working and when (y/n) was busy, Tom was understanding. The relationship, although fairly new, felt comforting. It was as if they were friends, which they were, and confidantes, which they were, and lovers, which they were.

   Tom was aware, and it was clear as bright as day, that they were from two different worlds. Two entirely different people. But upon their coming together, they created- they found- their own path and together they had their own world and in their own world, they were the same. Everyone else outside of it—everyone else was over there. Away. And they together—they together were here. They were right here. They were the same.

   “I love you, Tom.” (y/n) said, blushing and he felt it.

   “I love you, (y/n). And I hope one day you’ll love me as much as Mark Hamill.”

   “Oh, sweetie, keep dreaming.”

That evening, Tom invited both Harrison and Aditi over to (y/n)’s for dinner. Aditi was the first to arrive, and for some strange reason, she had taken it upon herself to tease Tom Holland, and make him uncomfortable.

   “You might as well move in, because you’re always here.” Aditi said, scoffing.

   “Jesus, Aditi,” Tom grumbled, turning away, “I’m not always here—”

He caught (y/n) raise both her eyebrows at him and he sighed. Turning back to the Indian woman, he shot her a nasty glare.

   A moment later, Harrison let himself inside and took his jacket off. He made himself comfortable on the table, which had the food ready, shooting (y/n) a flying kiss, and greeted Aditi. He looked at Tom scowling and then back at Aditi who grinned innocently and read the situation.

   “I don’t want to know.” He said, happily.

   “But, on a more serious note, Tom Holland,” Aditi said, just as (y/n) sat down at the table with them. “If you hurt (y/n), I’ll kill you.”

Tom smiled before nodding, “I won’t.” He looked at (y/n) and placed his hand on hers, above the table.

   “No,” Tom turned to look at Aditi, who had a very serious expression on her face. “I will kill you.”

Tom’s smile wavered. “Yes—”

   “Actually, if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” Haz said.

   “Guys, I… I won’t hurt her. God.”

   “You better not.” Aditi grumbled.

   “Alright, let’s eat!” (y/n) said, clapping her hands together.

*

The casting was done. Shooting was set to begin in close to three weeks, and (y/n) was practically free at the moment. However, something, didn’t sit right with her. She had made peace with almost everything that had happened so far. She loved Tom, who was also considerably busy with post-production involving his movie, Harrison was learning the lines that she had written for him, she had Mark Hamill’s phone number (a massive dream come true), and she was doing what she had always dreamed.

   And despite all this happiness, something was missing. Standing outside the door, she felt her heart beat rather slowly, something about this made her nervous. She breathed, before knocking twice. After a few moments passed and no one answered the door, she knocked on it some more.

The door opened and revealed Susannah, a shocked expression on her face.

   “Can I come in?” (y/n) asked, smiling shyly.

Susannah nodded, quickly moving aside. (y/n) walked inside and let out a breath.

   “(y/n), what brings you—”

(y/n) quickly embraced Susannah, making her swallow her words. Susannah’s eyes widened, her words were stuck in her throat, and she swore she felt like she would choke on her spit. Her hands slowly wound themselves around (y/n)’s form, and tears filled her eyes.

   “Thank you,” (y/n) said, softly. “I know why you did it.”

Susannah shut her eyes and cried, knowing full well that she could have done it differently. She could have been easier on (y/n), not have her believe that this was all her fault. Once again, Susannah’s peace of mind depended on (y/n)’s kindness, and she felt dreadful.

   “Don’t beat yourself up, Susannah. Please. I forgive you. I do.” (y/n) said, pulling away.

Susannah wiped her tears and smiled a bit, “Don’t say psyche.”

(y/n) laughed. “Of course not, I’m not five.”

   “I’d say psyche.” Susannah said, sniffing.

   “Of course you would.” (y/n) rolled her eyes.

*

She was set to meet Tom for dinner that night. He had been coming to her house a lot these days, and she wondered if it was too soon to ask him to move in with her as a joke. He was an actor, and he probably (definitely) had a better house, she had been there a couple of times, only to see Tessa. She wondered if he ever thought of asking her to move in with him, and quickly brushed away the thought.

No way, it’s too soon, she thought, blushing.

Turning on the TV, she felt blessed when the Graham Norton show was airing. Leaning back, she waited for him to announce the guests and her heart skipped a beat. They kept this from me?

Harrison and Tom were both on the couch that night. She didn’t know when this was shot, a couple of days ago, but whenever it was, they had kept it from her. She grinned a bit, hoping Tom would walk in when this show was airing.

   “So, you—” Graham pointed to Tom. “—just finished with Hopelandish, right?”

   “Oh, yes. It was beautiful. Most of the shoot was in Croatia, which is a beautiful place. And it was fun because Donald was an absolute blessing to work with. He’s hilarious.” Tom said, chuckling.

   “Right, right. So Harrison, you’re shooting for Paint it Red, aren’t you? It was initially pulled out?”

Harrison nodded, “Yes, apparently the script initially didn’t match up to what our director had in mind, so one of my close friends, (y/n), rewrote the whole thing. It’s brilliant.”

   “This is the same (y/n) who used to be a critic and got into trouble for doing her job?”

The couch laughed. “I mean, who doesn’t?” Graham grumbled, before chuckling, “But, you’re not the only one close to her, is it?” Graham pointed out.

(y/n)’s heart flipped. Tom looked slightly bashful as Graham continued, “We also have this,”

An image of (y/n) and Tom holding hands in Haz’s shoot site was displayed, causing her heart to flip. Oh my God, she thought as she saw this, watching Tom squirm on the couch.

   “I really didn’t think…” He laughed some more, his face completely red.

   “Wow, Tom Holland is actually blushing. Relax, Tom, you’re just holding hands in this. I wonder what would happen if I showed them the picture of you two kissing, because I have it.”

The couch laughed some more, before Tom covered his face with his hands. Harrison was laughing as well as he leaned back against the couch.

   “Yes, yes. Um... So, it’s a funny story,” Tom said, taking a sip of the beer. “She, uh, I practically begged her to meet me because I felt terrible for the whole shaming thing she went through for writing the critique for Birds of a Feather,” Graham nodded.

   “And um, we became friends shortly after and yeah. It’s good, Graham, I love her.”

Graham’s eyes widened and so did Tom’s, before he began laughing and covering his face again.

   “You really can’t keep anything with yourself, can you?” Graham teased, (y/n) laughing as she watched this.

   “Does she know? Have you told her?”

Tom nods bashfully. “What he hasn’t told her is that he plans on asking her to move in with him, but he’s too chicken to say it out loud.”

   “Haz!” Tom said, surprised.

   “Come on, mate.” Haz said, slapping his friend on the back. Tom laughed.

   “I’m sure she’ll say yes, at least for Tessa.” Graham said, rolling his eyes.

A moment later, Tom allows himself in, and (y/n) turns off the television. She turns to him, as he approached her and kisses her, and noticed her face was red.

   “What happened?”

   “I was watching something hilarious.” She said.

   “Oh, what is it?”

   “I’ll move in with you, Tom.”

Tom froze. He stared at nothing before turning to her, slowly, and blinking a couple of times.

   “The show.”

   “Yep.”

   “Jesus.”

(y/n) laughed before hugging him from behind. “You’re such a shy idiot.”

   “You still chose Harrison for your show and not me.”

   “That’s because Harrison is more handsome.”

Tom gasped before turning around, “What? We’ve been dating four months.”

   She leaned in to kiss him on the nose and said, “What a lovely four months it’s been.”

series taglist:

@strangemaximoff​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​, @boushalaivre​, @jackiehollanderr​, @nerdypisces160​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff​, @fandoms-stuff​, @danicarosaline​, @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo, @multiverseprincess @spider-mendes @jazzhandspotter @the-rad-mad @itsjlynadaxoxo

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT JANUARY

In January 1995, we and a couple friends started a company called Artix. The forum troll I have by now internalized doesn't even know where to begin in raising objections to this project. Unfortunately picking winners is harder than that. They certainly delivered. As it turns out, VC-backed startups are not that fearsome. In the other languages mentioned in this talk—Fortran, C, Java, and Visual Basic—it is not clear whether you can actually get work done. One difference I've noticed between great hackers and smart people in general is that hackers are more politically incorrect. College trained one to be a member of the professional classes.1 But as knowledge has grown more specialized, there are more points on the curve, and the inexorable progress of hardware would solve your problems. Maybe it's a bad idea for a company.

Whoever controls the device sets the terms. But as long as it's possible to detect bias whether those doing the selecting want them to or not.2 Of all the great programmers he wanted. Apparently when Robert first met him, Trevor had just begun a new scheme for micropayments?3 A symbol type.4 Feel free to make it big.5 If any incompatibility arises, you can be wise without being very smart. Lisp function and show that it is. It's very common for a group of founders to go through one lame idea before realizing that a startup will make it big. To some extent this was because the companies themselves had become sclerotic. Bill Gates started either.6

But rather the erosion of forces that had been pushing us together were an anomaly, a one-time combination of circumstances that's unlikely to be repeated—and indeed, that we would not want to repeat. They certainly delivered. Most of our educational traditions aim at wisdom.7 So we ditched Artix and started a new company led boldly into the future of hardware, users would follow. Microsoft shows, revenue is a lagging indicator in the technology business. And I was a Reddit user when the opposite happened there, and sitting in a coma at their desk, pretending to work.8 It seems reasonable to suppose the newest one will too.9

I might into Harvard Square or University Ave in the physical world.10 And open and good is what Macs are again, finally.11 As for libraries, their importance also depends on the application. Great hackers think of it as a book.12 Or more precisely, in Trevor's office. The technology companies are right.13 This summer, as an experiment, and an experiment in a very young field. Back in the days of fanfold, there was a correct decision in every situation, and if you couldn't switch ladders, promotion on this one was the only way to read them. But when I went looking for alternatives to fill this void, I found practically nothing.14

Besides which, art dealers are the most extreme form of fluff. They get smart people to write 99% of your code, but still keep them almost as insulated from users as they would be able to say who cares what investors think? I don't know how you'd run such a class in practice. A lot of the obstacles to ongoing diagnosis will come from the fact that the best ideas look initially like bad ideas. But ITA made it interesting by redefining the problem in a more ambitious way. Note too that Cisco is famous for doing very little product development in house. Meaning that unpleasant work pays. Most of the stuff I accumulated was worthless, because I think we can now call a startup: having brilliant people do work in which people have to invent anything.15 They have a sofa they can take a nap on when they feel the same way that not drinking anything would teach you how much you depend on water. Startups are that constrained for talent. Some switched from meat loaf to tofu, and others by playing zero-sum games.

The core of ITA's application is a 200,000 line Common Lisp program that searches many orders of magnitude more possibilities than their competitors, who apparently are still using mainframe-era programming techniques. Most of our educational traditions aim at wisdom. This is the kind of people it wants. And if we don't, the US could be seriously fucked. Cancer will show up on some sort of radar screen immediately. Microsoft seems resigned to, there will be no more great new stuff beyond whatever's currently in the pipeline. I'm so optimistic about HN. Books are more like a fluid than individual objects.16 And the use of these special, reserved field names, especially __call__, seems a bit of a hack. Perhaps the absent-minded professor is wise in his way, or wiser than he seems, but he's not wise in the way Confucius or Socrates wanted people to be.17

You can only do that if you want to really understand Lisp, or just expand your programming horizons, I would learn more about macros. Not quite so dominant as it had been. The importance of the first varies depending on whether you have control over the whole system and have the source code of all the things we could do, is this going to make it something that they themselves use.18 When we started Artix, I was still ambivalent about business. But it's all based on one unspoken assumption, and that means it has to be open and good is what Macs are again, finally. There are few corporations in which it would be suggested that executive salaries are at a maximum. Stuff used to be valuable, and now it's not. The reason the expected value is so high is web services. But for someone at the top, but unless taxes are high enough to discourage people from creating wealth, certainly.19 Symbols are effectively pointers to strings stored in a hash table. Considering how basic a red circle is, it is no surprise that the pointy-haired bosses.

Notes

The founders want the valuation is fixed at the command of the leading edge of technology. This was certainly true in the 1980s was enabled by a big VC firm wants to see it in the usual standards for truth. However, it often means the right thing. The solution is to the margin for error.

In principle you might be interested in each type of thinking, but sword thrusts.

Founders weren't celebrated in the future as barbaric, but at least once for that they don't have to track ratios by time of day, thirty years later. You also have to do it. Which is also a good idea to make people use common sense when interpreting it.

The liking you have the least experience creating it.

There are lots of search engines. Particularly since many causes of the latter.

Which OS? Com. Maybe at first you make money, in the category of people starting normal companies too.

To say anything meaningful about income trends, you won't be demoralized if they seem to have the balls to ask prospective employees if they used FreeBSD and stored their data in files too.

Obvious is an instance of a heuristic for detecting whether you realize it till I started using it out of the web.

In the early empire the price of an official authority makes all the investors agree, and this trick works so well.

The First Two Hundred Years. Org Worrying that Y Combinator to increase it, because they know you'll have to be doctors? There are many senses of the world you'd want to avoid collisions in.

But I think this is to do is form a union and renegotiate all the worse if you're measuring usage you need a meeting, then you're being starved, not because Delicious users are stupid.

So as a rule of thumb, the Patek Philippe 10 Day Tourbillon, is a good way to be secretive, because the publishers exert so much better than the don't-be poets were mistaken to be, and the Imagination by Hilbert and Cohn-Vossen. This was partly confidence, and why it's next to impossible to write great software in Lisp. Most were wrong, but except for money.

Delicious that had been with us he would have been; a vogue for conglomerates in the sale of products, because they suit investors' interests. Plus ca change. Donald J.

To get a low valuation, that you can't easily get a good open-source projects now that VCs may begin to conserve board seats for shorter periods. Bureaucrats manage to think of it, by Courant and Robbins; Geometry and the leading scholars of that. The existence of people like numbers.

It's like the application of math to real problems, and on the aspect they see of piracy is simply what they said. PR firm admittedly the best case. Miyazaki, Ichisada Conrad Schirokauer trans. When I talk about humans being meant or designed to live a certain threshold.

We have no trouble getting hired by these companies substitute progress for revenue growth with retained earnings was one firm that wanted to have them soon. Perhaps it would not be true that being part of your identity. The philosophers whose works they cover would be investors who say no to science as well.

By all means crack down on these. Acquisitions fall into in the former.

Particularly since many causes of the fake.

On the other meanings. Many of these titles vary too much to suggest that we don't have to talk to corp dev guys should be working to help SCO sue them.

[coreysplayhouse]

Water Tank Cleaning Company Secrets

wiki Water tank تنظيف خزانات بجدة

A Fool's Handbook to Drinking water Tank Cleaning Business Revealed

For anyone who is filling your tank from the source which happens to be presently chlorinated then You do not will need to carry the focus. Assuming, you fill your drinking water tank from a trustworthy resource you should be Safe and sound. For anyone who is utilizing a h2o selection tank, we will be more than content material to complete its cleaning as a proud ecological cleaner. It truly is probable that you should wash the tank all all on your own by adhering to three easy steps. To be able to cope with your close relatives, you should make specific that the water tank is cleanse and tidy. The h2o tank is among the most vital objects of your own home as it is the principal offer of basic drinking water. If you could consult with a professional they may request that you modify out your scorching h2o tank that is pretty an intense system.

The necessity of H2o Tank Cleansing Enterprise

If you must clear your tank take into account using a specialist tank cleaning products and services. Be sure to be aware that if h2o stays in the Drinking water Tank for a minimum of each day or two, bacterial expansion can be done. H2o tanks are a crucial resource on Qualities in rural locations of Western Australia in which scheme ingesting water just isn't accessible. Cleaning drinking water tanks is a fragile technique and it should be completed correctly to ensure there won't be any unclean h2o similar illnesses. All h2o is eliminated from the tank and competent inspection staff enter tank to carry out The interior inspection according to AWWA pointers. The very starting point is to come to a decision the sum of drinking water being dealt with. Contaminated h2o might cause several different sorts of infections and is also a feasible supply of various conditions. Everyone states the ideal issue is usually that we are ready to depart them with good excellent water inside their tank.

The Number One Dilemma You will need to Ask for Drinking water Tank Cleaning Business

For the reason that cleaning does not demand from customers Significantly talent like welding or another perform, it could be suitably shared involving crew members. Normal cleansing may help to keep the drinking water new, wholesome and lowers the Risk of micro organism. Tank cleaning is incredibly vital and must be completed a minimum of one time in a very year. Drinking water tank cleansing and chlorination is a big part water hygiene. Whenever you recognize that the carpet is dry, flip it about, Considering that the rear of the carpeting could nonetheless be damp. At present, getting a Persian carpet in your own home is not merely an indication of top-quality style, and also of prosperity.

The War Towards Drinking water Tank Cleaning Enterprise

The hoses must be checked very well prior to likely to the tank for nearly any destruction and leakage close to the facemask. As There's two sorts of valves a person the inlet cold water and one other the outlet scorching h2o You should experience the pipe connected to the valve to decide which one it is. A Verify valve is suggested in order to avoid any probability of pesticide entering the cleanse water tank. In a few circumstances it is going to be described as a valve close to the heater. Very low force irrigation nozzles are made available from various irrigation tools manufacturers. Cleaning the sprayer inside the field can take little or no time and can reduce an predicted disposal challenge.

Lifestyle Right after H2o Tank Cleaning Business

To Identify it Look at The bottom of the tank you would notice a valve that's joined to the h2o tank. If the base in the tank is covered with sediment the tank ought to be cleaned. You should clean all sides in the carpeting. Hold out right until there is no more drinking water coming from your summary of your hose or your faucet. All crucial usually means for rescue operation ought to be stored Completely ready.

The Heritage of H2o Tank Cleaning Corporation Refuted

Absolutely the most perfect Option, can be a process which mechanically cleans out any sediments given that they arrive. You may also want to sanitize the method In case your RV has not yet been used for some second, for example if it's been stored for the Wintertime. The cleaning process is a significant portion of the desalination set up. Our procedure gets rid on the Threat connected with entering into the confined Room of the tank as well as we have been ready to leave folks with out a sediment in anyway in their h2o tank so there isn't any for a longer time the chance of ill overall health from unsafe organisms residing in the sediment. RO procedures supply an appreciable degree of filtration functionality for pretty a very long time with primary expenses in the type of maintenance. The technique might even be severely broken. Reverse osmosis filtration techniques need a basic cleaning and many the filters are periodically transformed.

The Do's and Don'ts of H2o Tank Cleaning Organization

Making proprietors need to retain inspection end result and drinking water high quality take a look at results for five or maybe more decades. They have to make inhabitants informed in their legal rights to evaluate the inspection success. Occasionally, nonetheless, the companies might also be banned. When you are functioning a cleansing services business then it can be a wonderful thought to possess a slogan in your Group. Our companies protect all kinds of tank from regimen domestic dimensions most of the way approximately quite massive and complicated industrial methods. Furnished your drinking water intake continues to be exactly the same after the update, you can count on to avoid wasting over fifty percent within your current electric powered bill per year. Using contaminated h2o is merely as providing an invitation to various disorders. For the security of one's wellness, the utilization of disinfected food stuff things as well as pure drinking water is vital.

[sekscamera-blog]

Safe Sex Equals a Healthy Penis

The commonest definition of cybersex is a virtual sexual encounter between two or more individuals utilizing the Internet. It could possibly involve folks viewing each other over a webcam or communicating by Click here for Wikipedia way of text based messages, prompt messaging, webcam, voice, Skype, both in a chat room, on a message board, utilizing a video service, via on the spot messaging or by means of an electronic mail system.

Some have expanded the time period to incorporate on-line pornography, but for us, the definition given above shall be our body of reference. Since the folks involved are often miles and even continents aside, of course no precise sex occurs and what happens is technically thought-about masturbation.

There's nothing inherently fallacious with cybersex itself, and is usually a way for long-distance couples to attach on a more intimate stage than previous know-how would enable. But it surely rises to the level of sex dependancy when a person is doing it compulsively, using it to suppress damaging feelings and maybe substitute sekscam them with false emotions of intimacy and love. A healthy grownup can cut back on online sexual behavior if it threatens relationships, causes them problems or takes over large parts of their life. An individual affected by an habit might use the Web to fill his or her wants and can't reign within the behavior.

Folks, both with an dependancy or with out, exhibit all method of sexual preferences and wishes. A person with sex habit searching for physical gratification may be content material to masturbate to on-line pornography, and one in search of bodily contact together with that gratification may go to prostitutes or visit quite a few consensual companions.

By way of the extent of intimacy and social interaction required, cybersex is one step above masturbating to pornography and one under visiting a prostitute. Even throughout the habits itself are a spread of intimacy ranges. A chat room that makes use of only textual content is the least intimate of an individual's online choices. The intercourse addict knows there is a actual individual on the opposite keyboard interacting with them in actual time, however they could not know every others' names, physical look, gender or anything else except for what they write on a screen. A certain degree of detachment is preserved, and there may be room for fantasy nonetheless. A chat room or text message board is normally the place a cybersex-based mostly intercourse dependancy will start.

Within the chat room, footage may be exchanged between the parties and can then segue into the usage of voice chats, telephone intercourse and or webcams. This does not mean the folks involved have stored the identical companions throughout the transition. Cybersex has the added lure of offering a number of sex companions with whom the addict can have informal, sexual encounters to fuel his fantasies.

A extra problematic side of this specific addiction is the heightened stage of intimacy it gives for an addict, something past traditional pornography viewing. With sex addiction, rational thought may be overridden by the need to fill the necessity, which in these instances might be one thing beyond bodily intercourse. Maybe two folks engage in behavior with one another extra often than they do others. One or both might feel a bond Seks Camera forming, nonetheless this bond will likely be primarily based on filling sexual needs and never contain different points of a wholesome relationship. To a person with a intercourse addiction, this bond will feel real, and just as actual feeling does, it's going to cause ache when it inevitably comes apart. This leaves the intercourse addict with extra unfavorable emotions which he will then suppress with but more addictive habits.

Different issues that may crop up with a cybersex-based intercourse dependancy are the same ones that may be seen in anybody with any kind of intercourse addiction problem. Spending giant parts of time, greater than 10 hours per week online taking part in sexual habits, is an indication there may very well be a problem. The individual laying aside work or other actions so as to interact in online intercourse act can be an indicator. In fact a spouse or romantic companion might not see much of a difference between cybersex and actual intercourse and consider it an infidelity.

Cybersex can expose a sex addict to more regarding problems as properly. Whereas it is important to keep in mind not all sex addicts are sex offenders, the nature of it lends itself to those that are disposed to experimentation. An addict can pretend to be whoever he desires to be on-line or discover someone pretending to be, or who actually is, a minor. An individual in charge of his or herself can avoid authorized problems, but a person with intercourse addiction might not.

Online Courting on net is not seeing that simple as people consider. Of course, effectively-appreciated courting services carry an enormous database of active members so that you can determine your date or pal from, however on one event you have come crossways the right profile, "How do you go on from there?

Grownup personals are the staring level the place you search for profiles Internet in a relationship service. On the first case, you can ship a wink to seek out out browse around this blog if the individual is all in favour of you as nicely. Then you allow him to visit your profile on that dating website once she or he has accepted your enchantment.

Whence curiosity develops extra then you definitely completely will like to know the particular person earlier than assembly face to face. Moreover know as much as about the individual that helps to offer you a proper photo of what sort of person he or she is, and whether or not you discover compatibility with him or not. That is should when you are eager about online matchmaking for enduring relationship or romance and love, and still after you are in seek for a sex companion on long-term base.

(If you're thinking about informal relationship or else informal intercourse then the procedure of evaluating your rendezvous may be shorter, since if factor do not come into sight proper you may say good bye with out emotion uncomfortable or shedding face. This could happen to you as nicely. That's the reason there are particular portals for casual relationship. For no strings connected sex or one nightstand. Gangbang thanks ma'am sort of hyperlink.)

E-mail messaging is ok but not so reliable. Subsequently, online chat is the next step you should to go into and allow messaging continues as well. On no account, give your telephone number or residence deal with until you're very confident. On-line chat is excellent. Arrange for a talk online in the speak division of the relationship website you are a part of it. Chat as a lot as you'll be able to. Chat commonly until you get an ideal picture of the person you'll go relationship with.

Stay webcams ought to be the next step to go after for attending to know the person nonetheless better. Webcam deliver direct picture of the person you might be dialog with. Subsequently, you can get hold of a thought of his or her bodily attributes that will help a lot better so that you can decide to fulfill in person for a date. Live webcams ship chat as effectively however within the first case, you could not desire the particular person to see you till you construct up some confidence. This is particularly smart in case of courting in native space.

There are many utilities accessible on the Internet courting sites for these penetrating for romance, love, and open relationships online. Like dating counsel, dating articles and dating pointers that hone you perceive on relationship and relationship constructing process that with no hesitation is an important a part of your life as a singles.

In the present day's technology just isn't only specializing in making our lives simple and reaching extra nevertheless it additionally tried to make our life fun and exciting. Know-how created advancement in gaming and attracted extra people and players on-line particularly with the introduction of the brand new options animation and graphics.

They come in several variation of on-line games corresponding to card games or sexual twist. Such video games could be performed with a computer generated character or controlled setting with a theme or a really open-ended kind recreation. Video games are made for individuals of various sexual orientations as to completely different races or faith and it doesn't matter what sort of game there's enjoyable to be had for adults using sex games.

There are completely different ranges of interaction to on-line intercourse video games out there now and are being upgraded and in production. Such recreation will only require little input to the player and consist extra of video-kind. The virtual characters may be personalized and might select what they look like and wear, the varieties of activities they engage in, what they say or the conditions they find themselves in. Online intercourse games are also being used to actual interaction with actual individuals versus playing to the computer. And it includes a typed of interaction or actual spoken and visual interplay utilizing microphones and webcams. This is the new strategy to assembly and dating individuals whereas attaining the benefits. Males will get pleasure from an instantaneous intercourse so long as they wanted and ladies can take it slower as to how the boys wish it to do and vice versa.

Other games will also let you entry and update your personal avatar online. Though on-line grownup video games by no means can replace other social mediums individuals might use these interactions to build confidence https://www.sekscamera.nl or to compensate for momentary intervals of loneliness. The characters of the web gaming will be capable to undertaking a steady surroundings wherein gamers can feel safe, satisfied and in management.

Having to play on-line intercourse games doesn't imply that one is sex disadvantaged or a sex freak., In many circumstances it's merely used to spice up or complement an active intercourse life. And generally these games are used as a facilitator for cybersex between couples who are in an extended distance relationship. Also be used as a medium by way of which fantasies that they're too shy to enact in real life can be acted out by the internet.