#with different value markers assigned to each one

[francesderwent]

Taylor Swift really wrote an album with the thesis “a man who tells you he loves you and lives together with you in a committed relationship for six years but never ever proposes is essentially the same as a man who tells you he loves you to get you into bed and then ghosts you a couple weeks later”

[andy-wm]

Sargent Park Jimin, thank you.

This morning I found myself unexpectedly emotional over the military achievements of our beautiful Jiminie.

I cried. Ridiculous sobbing.

I've had a nasty cough-headache-fever lurgy for a few weeks. I'm worn out and my brain is foggy, so I'm blaming poor health for my unlikely response to the news its not really news that Jimin is an 'ACE'.

But is that really an excuse to disolve in a flood of tears over his ability to hit a target¹?

I dont know.

And besides that I'm trying to reconcile my OTT reaction with the fact that I hate war.

I do not celebrate military might.

I really really hate the idea of sending young people (mostly men) to kill each other, often for no good reason. I have a passionate stance on this.

And yet here I am, a blubbering mess because our Darling Angel™ can obliterate whatever comes near him... because he is epically good at operating his giant war machine.

While i was trying to work out why I'm feeling this way, it occured to me suddenly that i didn't really understand what net4ace meant. Spoiler, it's a bad translation, but that gave my brain something else to latch onto.... just the distraction I needed.

Boots on. Time to investigate.

We already know Jimin and JK are in the 5th Infantry Division, their Artillery Brigade coded 'White Bear', and garrisoned in Yeoncheon. While Jungkookie perfects his rice reputation, Jimin is assigned to the Fire Direction Centre, responsible for calculating and coordinating the firing of big artillery like the K9 Thunder... a self propelled Howitzer².

K9 Thunder: humongous gun on caterpillar tracks. Roll it out and blow stuff up. This machine is manufactured by korean-owned company, Hanwha Aerospace. It's the world's most advanced self propelled Howitzer, supplied to countries around the globe and customised for enviroments from Australia to Norway. Poland just signed a deal for 600 of these. Did you know that production of the K9 is 3 times faster than it's competitors? And it's cheaper. You're welcome.

What I found out about net4ace:

Commenting on Jin's Echo Weverse Live, Jungkook said 둘포 넷포 : dool(2)po net(4)po

Based on the explanations I found, 포 [po] is shorthand for the tank³ they're assigned to.

The numbers are easy to understand:

1- Hanapo, 2- Doolpo, 3- setpo, 4- netpo

Jungkook is with #2 Tank and Jimin is with #4 Tank

💜

After JK's comment, Jimin added 나는 넷포 에이스출신이지:

Net4ace is incorrect translation. It should be I'm 4-Tank ace.

He's cheekily correcting JK:

Adding the topic marker particle to 'I' in that statement (나는) means he's basically saying 'as for me' ...

"...I'm not just riding in 4-Tank, I'm the ACE of 4-Tank"

It seems our Mochi is in charge of one of his battalion's K9 Thunder war machines. There are 6 in the battalion. Fortunately he doesn't have to be in the tank. Jimin and the others doing the clever mathsy-physicsy stuff are in a different vehicle. They radio in the coordinates to the people in the K9 Thunder, who key in the numbers and press the button. These Howitzers can get 6 shots out per minute. That's one round every 10 seconds.

So apparently he's an ACE

I'm not going to argue, but what exactly does ACE mean in this context?

It's not difficult to guess, but I like to check my assumptions.

See below:

ACE is exactly what you'd expect

He's the boss, super good at everything.

But i tell you what I didn't expect?

I didnt expect for Park Jimin to be in charge of a whole damn tank!! I didnt expect him to be the senior (non-commissioned) officer of his team and be in charge of running the whole tanky operation.

And what did I feel on finding all this out?

Absolutely proud and grateful!! What??!

At first I didn't understand my own reaction.

Shouldn't I be horrified?

I wanted to admonish myself for celebrating something so much at odds with my values.

I had to reflect, to understand my response to this, and to reconcile our Park Jimin with the perfect soldier, Park Jimin.

Because this is our Park Jimin....

Our Park Jimin whose dancing and singing bring joy to the world - who makes life more bearable just by being here.

Our Park Jimin who cares and understands. Who always has a kind word and never lets a birthday pass without celebration.

Our Park Jimin with the tender heart, who cried when he saw ARMYs on the big screens at Bangbangcon.

Our Park Jimin who dotes on ARMY and who put us in his pocket to take home when we didn't want him to leave us.

But also...

Our Park Jimin who has endured betrayal and abuse, sometimes by the people he trusted most. Yet he hasn't allowed it to harden his heart.

Our Park Jimin who has shown immense grace and strength in the face of personal struggles.

Our Park Jimin, who has sacrificed his health, freedom, and autonomy, to meet harsh expectations because that was the price of his dream.

I was contemplating all this and i suddenly understood the reason I'm proud and grateful:

Despite everything, Park Jimin has won.

He went into an environment completely at odds with his nature and his chosen field, and he excelled.

The military is as harsh and impersonal as it gets. The culture is designed to break you - to turn you into an obedient, faceless number. Despite this, Jimin didnt break. He made a name for himself, he made the experience work for him, and he made a positive impact on his fellow soldiers ...

I'm not proud and grateful because he can blow shit up.

I'm proud and grateful because he retained his identity and his sense of self even while transforming himself into the perfect soldier.

He hasn't faltered.

He has remained Park Jimin.

Consider what a challenge that is: being conscripted into the military of a country actively at war, while learning a new way to live and succeed and find meaning in what you're doing. Climbing the ranks and surviving gruelling physical and mental tests, and coming out on top. And not compromising who you are.

If he can thrive there, he can and will thrive anywhere.

And yes, I hate that he's operating a machine with a singular destructive purpose, but he will be thoroughly aware of what it means, and of the huge responsibility he has. After all, he's been in a postition of global power for over a decade.

While he may seem an unlikey choice to people who don't know him, if anyone is going to be in control of a war machine it should probably be someone like Park Jimin.

I realised while writing this, that while I can and do hate war, (nothing will change that) I can also feel proud of Park Jimin and what he's achieved while in the military⁴.

Go get it all, Jiminie, you incredibly smart and determined and kind and talented human! Win every heart and defeat every challenger. If you're knocked down, keep standing up again and don't ever lose sight of who you are:

Dancer, singer, idol, lover, and the 넷포 ACE of the 5th Division's White Bears Battalion.

And although you choose to be with us, you do not belong to ARMY, nor Hybe nor Jikookers nor PJMs... nor anyone else.

You belong to nobody but yourself.

💜🐥💜

¹ I know it's much more than just shooting straight. He's mastered all four disciplines required to be battle ready and to fulfil his role in the Fire Direction Centre. He's been through all the harsh training requirements and come out on top. He's made friends and been a mentor to young soldiers far away from home.

² Apparently a Howitzer is a type of gun with a short muzzle that fires a shell upwards in an arc, without much speed. The word comes from the late 17th century: from Dutch houwitser, from German Haubitze, from Czech houfnice meaning ‘catapult’. Love me some etymology.

³ It's not actually a tank. It's a self propelled Howitzer: a gun with wheels, an engine, and a small amount of armour, designed to move into firing position but not engage directly. Whereas a tank is an armoured vehicle with a gun attached, designed to drive into battle and crush the opponent like a bug.

⁴ Even if he had achieved nothing, I'd still be so proud of him and grateful for his existence. And look at me testing my black and white view of myself and finding a little patch of grey. Quite proud of my personal growth here hahahaha

[mariacallous]

This article initially appeared in My Jewish Learning’s Shabbat newsletter Recharge. To sign up to receive Recharge each week in your inbox, click here.

As the only child of a Jewish father and mother who had converted to Judaism before I was born, our annual family trips to visit my Italian and Irish Catholic relatives for Christmas were among the highlights of my year.

Every December, my aunt and uncle’s modest home just off the New Jersey Turnpike would fill to bursting with aunts, uncles and cousins. I remember the warmth in the house, the chatter of the grown ups discussing politics and books they had recently read, or more often simply enjoying one another’s company while they drank beer and watched football. These Christmas celebrations were a staple of my childhood and shaped my Jewish identity in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.

From the moment we arrived, I couldn’t wait to dive in and help create the Christmas magic. Even before I was old enough to handle the oven on my own, I would tie on an apron and join my mom and aunt in rolling out cookie dough while my uncle prepared the cornish hens and a robust pasta sauce.

Meanwhile, my older cousins would fry smelts and all kinds of other fish in preparation for the Christmas Eve meal. As the food simmered, I would begin my special assignment: decorating the Christmas tree. Retrieving the ornaments collected over many years and several generations from their dusty attic boxes, I carefully hung each one, arranging twinkly lights until they looked just right.

I relished these rituals and took them on with pride. Rather than religious acts in service of a different deity, these Christmas preparations were acts of love done in service of my family.

As I got older, I became more dedicated to Jewish ritual observance. One winter when Christmas and Hanukkah overlapped, as it does this year, my extended family had the opportunity to offer a similar love back to me. When the time came for candle lighting, I got out the Hanukkah menorah we had brought from home intending to light it just with my parents. But when the rest of the family heard what was happening, they all wanted to join. As I kindled the flames and recited the blessings, I got to explain what this ritual was and what it meant to me.

Being witnessed by my non-Jewish family made me feel strong and confident in my tradition, excited for a chance to share what mattered to me with those I love. I’ll never forget the image of the candles aglow on their dining room table beneath a picture of the pope, the Christmas lights twinkling in the background. While this could have been an experience of dissonance or confusion, instead it was one of clarity and connection — one that made me feel confirmed in my Judaism and grateful for the way these traditions could live side by side.

Growing up in a predominantly non-Jewish community, I felt a tension between my Jewish upbringing and the overwhelming presence of Christmas in the world around me. The ubiquity of Christmas-themed activities at school, the red and green decorations everywhere, the carols that filled shopping malls and were the core of our elementary school holiday music concert — these cultural markers of a Christian-majority society were ever present.

But when I stepped into my aunt and uncle’s home during the holiday season, something profound happened. I felt the value of being in community with people who were different from me — people who didn’t share my faith or traditions, but whose warmth, generosity, and celebration of life created an environment where differences didn’t divide us — they enriched us.

Sharing our traditions with those we love, and experiencing theirs, is a powerful way of fostering appreciation, empathy and respect and of deepening connection across difference. Whether it’s Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Diwali, Solstice, the Feast of Saint Lucia or Las Posadas, the winter holidays offer us an opportunity to come together with friends and family of different faiths and share in the collective experience of celebration, marking time and creating warmth at the coldest time of year when pulling inward to our own groups might feel more intuitive.

My trips to New Jersey were about more than just a holiday tradition. They were about feeling close to those I love across cultural and religious divides, about celebrating holidays together as a way to celebrate our differences, and about learning that these differences need not diminish us. Instead, like the glow of the Hanukkah candles and the twinkling Christmas tree, they bring more light into the world.

[bumblebeerror]

I firmly believe in the idea that if I cannot fit all the attributes I want w character to have into a 3.5 D&D character sheet without cheating the rolls, the character isn’t balanced. Explaination of what I mean below the cut if you’re curious.

Like, without getting too nerd, 3.5 has a set of six attributes whose value table is rolled at random. If you don’t want to deal with how cruel the random roll can be, you can always roll multiple sets of six and choose the fairest set.

To get your values, you roll 3 eight sided dice or 4 six sided dice, add the numbers rolled, and you have a value. This usually means you don’t have any value below 8 unless you are supremely unlucky, and also ensures you will rarely roll a value higher than 18, and some DMs will cut you off at 18 for absolute highest value.

Each value is then assigned to different attributes. Strength, Dexterity, Wisdom, Constitution, Intelligence, and Charisma.

Strength determines the pure physical strength of the character’s body. Things like how well they can smash something open or break something, or even how well they can grab or throw things.

Dexterity determines one’s balance, stealth, and how light-footed (or light-fingered) they are. It can also determine things like how easily you dodge attacks or escape traps.

Wisdom is your character’s foresight, their intuition, it may even reflect as their schooling or prior experience. It’s used most often when testing a character’s perception of their surroundings and whether they sense the presence of other creatures or danger.

Constitution is the character’s toughness. It’s used to determine how sick an illness or poison will make them, whether they can hold out at zero hit points for another round, this is your character’s will to live, their sturdiness, how much punishment they can take.

Intelligence differs from wisdom. Intelligence is a marker of the information the character is able to obtain from their surroundings, either through observation or actual schooling. It’s used largely to determine whether a character may have the ability to know context from their location, either through stories, school, or experience.

Charisma refers to your character’s ability to intimidate, charm, influence, or otherwise bend the universe to their favor. This is their social skills and ability to navigate social situations.

So, you roll your six values and assign them. Every 2 points in each attribute above the value of 10 is a +1 to skill checks associated with that attribute.

So, say you have a character, and these are their stats: STR - 11, DEX - 16, WIS - 8, CON - 18, INT - 15, and CHA - 18.

*If you were to roll any value above 20, it is discarded and re-rolled. No attribute can be naturally above 20. In D&D you would also be able to add to certain attribute values due to your chosen race. That bit’s optional.

These stats would even out to +0, +3, -1, +4, +2, and +4, as you can’t have half points. This character would have average strength, would be fairly graceful, inexperienced compared to the average person, almost as tough as they come, be smarter than the average person but not a genius, and very, very charming.

This is a believable character! They have two “dump stats” (stats which are the lowest or offer no bonus or negative bonuses), two very high stats, and two medium stats. Typically when making a D&D character, players will choose certain attributes for the sake of the role in the party that they’ve chosen - a healer or other support member will rarely choose to dump the stats that power their spells, a fighter won’t dump strength, a rogue won’t dump dexterity, so on so forth. But, it’s not required to cater to your role either, BECAUSE -

As you level up, you receive points that can be put into any attribute - this is seen as your character growing as they use their abilities and it’s why odd numbers aren’t a bad thing in ability scores. And in addition, you also have a certain number of skill points - points which can be used to practice individual skills. For a rogue with a poor dexterity, that means instead of being born sneaky, your character can learn to sneak, though it won’t effect any other dexterity based scores that don’t have skill points in. Typically skills require at least 2 points in order to level them up.

So, based on the attribute scores I listed above, I could create a character who is incredibly charming and good at working a crowd, a juggler or a musician maybe, who gets into trouble a fair bit over their big mouth and local gossip, who can run like hell or take a beating but can’t dish one out. Maybe they figure out the issue is them and learn to listen more than speaking over time, or they get tired of getting wailed on or chased off and learn to fight. They may not be as good at those things as they are at talking or staying alive, but they could open new options for themselves.

And without much effort, just rolling dice and filling out part of a character sheet, I’ve created a whole premise for a character that is pretty balanced and feels like a believable person.

I am aware this is less intuitive if you’ve never played D&D, but in my opinion it’s a damn good method and I don’t intend to fix what ain’t broke.

Not every story is about seeing yourself in it. Sometimes it’s about learning to see other people too.

[madmiasocksusa]

5 Fun Games to Play at a Kids’ Party Using Crazy Socks 

Throwing a kids’ party? You don’t need fancy props or high-tech entertainment to get everyone having fun. All it takes is a handful of crazy socks, a group of energetic little ones, and a few simple game ideas that turn silly into spectacular. These five sock-themed games will bring the laughs, spark creativity, and make your party one the kids won’t forget.

1. Sock Toss Challenge

This one’s always a hit. All you need is a basket (or even a cardboard box) and a pile of clean, rolled-up socks. Set up targets at different distances and assign each one a point value. Each child takes turns tossing socks and racking up points. You can go solo or divide them into teams. Want to spice it up? Use oversized crazy socks for women to make the toss a little more unpredictable and a lot more hilarious.

2. Sock Matching Relay

Before the party starts, gather a big pile of mismatched socks make them bright, bold, and fun. Scatter them around the room or yard. When the whistle blows, kids race to find matching pairs. To add some chaos and challenge, throw in a few socks that don’t have a pair at all. The team or player who finds the most matches in a set time wins. This game keeps kids moving and laughing, especially when they're trying to decide if two neon socks “count” as a match.

3. Musical Socks

This playful twist on musical chairs is perfect for sock lovers. Lay socks in a circle, one fewer than the number of kids playing. As music plays, they walk or dance around. When the music stops, everyone grabs a sock. The child left without one sits out the round. Continue until only one player remains. Offer fun prizes like funny socks for women as take-home goodies or rewards.

4. Sock Puppet Skits

A little creativity goes a long way. Give each child a colorful sock and some simple craft supplies—googly eyes, markers, felt shapes. Let them design their own puppet, then split them into small groups to create a mini puppet show. Encourage silly voices and wild stories. Once each group performs, everyone claps and cheers. This game turns into a fun keepsake too, as kids get to take home their homemade sock puppet.

5. Freeze and Find

This one’s a bundle of fun and great for indoor or outdoor parties. Hide several socks in tricky spots before the game starts. Play music while kids dance around. When the music stops, they freeze. On the signal, they search for a sock. Whoever finds one first gets a point. Keep hiding and replaying until everyone’s had a turn. Colorful womens novelty socks work great for this—they’re easy to spot but fun to hide.

Quick Note Before You Go

These simple, silly games don’t just entertain—they keep kids active, encourage teamwork, and make great use of everyone’s favorite party accessory: the humble sock. Whether you’re planning a birthday bash or a playdate with flair, crazy socks can turn ordinary moments into unforgettable memories.

With a keen eye for bold patterns and playful designs, the author offers a wide range of colorful, crazy socks. To find the perfect socks, explore https://www.madmia.com/en-us/. 

[anantam-ayurveda]

Palash (Butea monosperma): Palash Flower Benefits

Palash, scientifically known as Butea monosperma, is a sacred and medicinal tree deeply embedded in the roots of Ayurvedic medicine. Also known as Flame of the Forest due to its striking orange-red flowers, this versatile plant offers a multitude of therapeutic benefits that have been revered for centuries. In this article, we dive deep into the marvels of Palash, covering its botanical identity, Ayurvedic properties, medicinal uses, formulations, and modern research supporting its efficacy.

Botanical Description and Habitat of Palash

Palash belongs to the Fabaceae family and is native to the Indian subcontinent. It is a medium-sized deciduous tree found abundantly in tropical and subtropical regions of India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, and parts of Southeast Asia. Recognizable by its trifoliate leaves and bright scarlet-orange blossoms, every part of the tree—leaves, flowers, seeds, bark, and gum—is of immense medicinal value.

Botanical Name: Butea monosperma

Common Names: Palash, Dhak, Tesu, Flame of the Forest

Sanskrit Names: Kinshuka, Palasha, Brahmavriksha

Vernacular Names of Palash

The widespread use of Palash across the Indian subcontinent has led to a rich diversity in its local nomenclature. Here are the most recognized names in various regional languages:

English: Flame of the Forest

Hindi: Dhaka

Kannada: Muttuga

Malayalam: Palasin Samat

Gujarati: Khakhare

Telugu: Modugu

Tamil: Purasam

Each name often reflects either the tree's appearance, local uses, or cultural associations, offering insight into the regional respect and utility of the plant.

Sanskrit Synonyms of Palash

Ancient Ayurvedic scholars assigned several Sanskrit names to Palash, each highlighting a unique botanical, spiritual, or medicinal attribute:

Kimshuka – The flower resembles a bird’s beak, often compared to the beak of a parrot.

Vanaprastha – Refers to its natural habitat in forest regions, symbolizing wild purity.

Tripatra – Denotes the tree's trifoliate leaves, a classic identification marker.

Kharaparna – Signifies rough-textured leaves, relevant for botanical descriptions.

Vakrapushpaka – Describes the curved nature of its petals.

Bijasneha – Seeds are oil-rich, used in traditional remedies and therapies.

Raktapushpaka – Literally means “one with red flowers,” referencing its striking floral hue.

Krimighna – Highlights the anthelmintic (anti-parasitic) properties of its seeds.

Yajnika – A tree frequently used in yajnas and sacred rituals.

Samidvara – Signifies Palash as the ideal Samidha (ritual firewood) for Vedic rituals.

Ksharashreshta – Acknowledges Palash as a source of Kshara (alkaline extract), used in medicinal formulations.

Brahmavrukhsa / Brahmopanetra / Samitvara – Denotes auspiciousness and divine connection, especially in spiritual education and rituals.

These names not only signify physical properties but also affirm the deep spiritual essence rooted in the Ayurvedic philosophy of "Dravya Guna Shastra"—the study of medicinal substances and their energies.

Varieties of Palash as per Raj Nighantu

Classical Ayurvedic literature like Raj Nighantu describes four distinct varieties of Palash, differentiated primarily by the color of the flowers and slight variations in medicinal potency:

Rakta Palasa – Red-flowered variety

The most commonly used and highly revered in medicine and rituals.

Pita Palasa – Yellow-flowered variety

Rare and sometimes considered less potent than the red variant.

Sweta Palasa – White-flowered variety

Very rare; occasionally found in deep forests; used symbolically in ritual purity.

Nila Palasa – Blue-flowered variety

Extremely rare and largely mythical in traditional records.

Each of these variants carries subtle differences in pharmacological potency, ritual suitability, and ecological presence, with Rakta Palasa being the most celebrated.

READ MORE

[solomon07]

Inventory tracking method : The crucial to Effective Inventory Management

In moment's fast- paced business terrain,  Inventory tracking method are essential for icing that businesses can manage their stock efficiently and meet client demands. With a well- enforced system, businesses can minimize losses, ameliorate cash inflow, and increase overall productivity. In this blog, we will explore the different Inventory tracking method available, their benefits, and how businesses can work them for success.

What Are Inventory Tracking styles?

Inventory tracking method relate to the processes or systems businesses use to cover, manage, and track the volume and position of their stock. These styles insure that the business always has the right quantum of products at the right time, precluding stockouts or overstocking. Effective force shadowing is a crucial element of force chain operation, impacting everything from order fulfillment to cash inflow.

Types of Inventory Tracking styles

When it comes to  Inventory tracking method, there are colorful approaches that businesses can choose from grounded on their requirements. Each system has its pros and cons, and the stylish choice depends on the type of products, deals volume, and available coffers.

1. Barcode Inventory Tracking

One of the most common Inventory tracking method is barcode scanning. In this system, each product is assigned a unique barcode. When an point is vended or entered, the barcode is scrutinized, and the force system automatically updates the stock situations. Barcode tracking systems are effective and accurate, making them ideal for businesses that need real- time visibility into force situations.

Benefits of Barcode Inventory Tracking

Accuracy Reduces mortal crimes in force operation.

pets Speed up the process of force updates and shadowing.

Real- time Updates Instant updates make it easier to manage force across multiple locales.

2. Radio frequence Identification( RFID)

RFID is another advanced force shadowing system. It uses radio swells to transmit information about a product's position and status. RFID markers, unlike barcodes, do n't bear direct line- of- sight to be scrutinized. This system is particularly salutary for businesses with high- value particulars or large amounts of stock, as it can track multiple particulars contemporaneously.

Benefits of RFID force Tracking:

Enhanced effectiveness Track large volumes of force in real- time.

No Need for Line- of- Sight Unlike barcode systems, RFID does not bear visual contact with the point.

Reduced Labor Costs The robotization of force counting and streamlining reduces the need for homemade labor.

3. Homemade force Tracking

For lower businesses or those with limited coffers, homemade force shadowing might be the go- to system. This system involves physically counting force on a regular base and recording the data in a spreadsheet or a paper tally. While this system is low- cost, it can be time- consuming and prone to mortal error.

Benefits of Homemade force Tracking:

Low- Cost No need for advanced technology or software.

Simple Easy to apply for small- scale operations.

Inflexibility Can be customized to suit specific business requirements.

4. Inventory Management Software

For larger businesses or those with complex force requirements, force operation software provides a more robust result. These systems integrate colorful shadowing styles( like barcodes or RFID) with data analysis tools, helping businesses track stock situations, reorder points, and deals trends. Popular software includes SAP, Oracle, and QuickBooks.

Benefits of Inventory Management Software:

robotization Reduces homemade labor and crimes by automating numerous tasks.

Data Analytics Provides precious perceptivity into deals trends and force performance.

Scalability Suitable for businesses of all sizes, from small startups to large enterprises.

5. Just- by- Time( JIT) Inventory Tracking

Just- by- Time( JIT) is an force shadowing system that focuses on keeping minimum stock situations and ordering force only when demanded. This approach minimizes storehouse costs and the threat of overstocking. JIT requires precise demand soothsaying and a strong relationship with suppliers to insure timely deliveries.

Benefits of JIT Inventory Tracking:

Cost Savings Reduces force holding costs by maintaining low stock situations.

Streamlined Operations Encourages effective product and ordering processes.

Inflexibility Allows businesses to acclimate snappily to changing request demands.

6. Periodic Inventory System

Under the periodic force system, force is counted at specific intervals, similar as daily, yearly, or annually. Unlike the perpetual system, which continuously tracks force, periodic systems update stock situations only after a physical count. This system is generally used by small businesses with lower deals volumes.

Benefits of Periodic force Tracking:

Lower Costs Less investment in technology and systems compared to perpetual systems.

Simple to Implement Ideal for small businesses with smaller force particulars.

Easy to Manage Requires lower time for diurnal shadowing compared to real- time systems.

How to Choose the Right force Tracking Method

Choosing the right force shadowing system depends on several factors, including the type of business, budget, and functional complexity. Businesses with high deals volume or a wide range of products may profit from advanced systems like RFID or barcode scanning. On the other hand, lower businesses with smaller products may find homemade shadowing or a periodic system sufficient.

Consider these crucial factors when choosing an force shadowing system

Deals Volume Advanced volumes frequently bear automated systems like barcode or RFID shadowing.

Budget lower businesses may conclude for low- cost styles like homemade shadowing or periodic systems.

Product Complexity Businesses with complex products or multiple variants may need a more sophisticated system, like force operation software.

The Benefits of Effective force Tracking

enforcing an effective force shadowing system can offer a range of benefits for businesses

Improved Cash Flow By maintaining optimal force situations, businesses can free up cash that would else be tied up in redundant stock.

Reduced Stockouts and Overstocking Accurate shadowing ensures businesses have the right quantum of stock at the right time.

More Decision- Making Real- time data allows for further informed purchasing and product opinions.

Conclusion

In conclusion, opting the right force shadowing system is pivotal for effective force operation. Whether you choose barcode scanning, RFID, force operation software, or a homemade system, the thing is to streamline force processes, reduce crimes, and insure that your business can meet client demands. By understanding the different  Inventory tracking method and their benefits, you can choose the stylish approach for your business’s requirements.

FAQs

1. What are the most common force shadowing system?

The most common Inventory tracking method include barcode scanning, RFID, homemade shadowing, force operation software, and periodic force systems.

2. Which force shadowing system is stylish for small businesses?

For small businesses, homemade shadowing or periodic force systems may be the most cost-effective and straightforward styles. As the business grows, they may consider transitioning to barcode scanning or force operation software.

3. Can  Inventory tracking method help reduce losses?

Yes, effective  Inventory tracking method can minimize losses by icing accurate stock situations, reducing theft or corruption, and precluding overstocking or stockouts.

4. What's RFID, and how does it work in force shadowing?

RFID( Radio frequence Identification) is an advanced force shadowing system that uses radio swells to track products automatically without demanding a direct line of sight. RFID markers transmit data to RFID compendiums , which modernize force situations in real- time.

5. How does an force shadowing system ameliorate decision- making?

By furnishing real- time and accurate data, an force shadowing system enables businesses to make further informed opinions about stock situations, reorder points, and copping strategies, leading to more effective operations.

With these  Inventory tracking method, businesses can optimize their force processes, ameliorate profitability, and insure client satisfaction. Choosing the right system is crucial to staying competitive in moment’s request.

[avactsclass3c]

In the critical thinking skills class this week, my group and I embarked on the creation of the cts manifesto aiming to capture and compile the essence of what cts is and what it means to us as designers . This endeavour unfolded within the rich context of the class activity.where cts ranges from cultivating our values to implementing them in day to day.

CTS Manifesto Creation Process

During the development of the manifesto, our group engaged in a discussion of where to begin and what kind of manifesto we wanted to create. We assigned diffrent parts of the manifesto to different team members to play to our strengths. The ones of us who were better at drawing did the illustration and those of us who are stronger at type did that, fostering an environment where ideas were all accepted and seen. Our ideas were generated by brainstorming together and creating a digital mock up of the manifesto before creating the real one. So the idea was to separate this manifesto into our values, questions and aspirations. We created sort of a template and all started adding on to that. Applying critical thinking skills, we meticulously worked together sort of in a tag team style, exchanging markers and adding on to each others ideas to shape the essence of the manifesto.

 Principles and Values

At the core of the cts manifesto  are principles and values that resonate with our class’s focus on collaborative skills and growth . Chosen deliberately, each of the lessons in cts from year one till now, serve to dipict our creativity and curiosity to be able to further grow as a designer as well as as a person and contribute significantly to the enhancement of critical thinking skills among our group members.

Challenges and Problem-solving

While crafting the manifesto, we encountered challenges such as running out of content and making the best use of all of our strengths and ensuring we all had an even workload. We also had small disagreements about the composition of the manifesto and had to deal with some typos or errors that we had already drawn in with marker . However, leveraging our collective critical thinking abilities, we navigated these hurdles by looking at examples on the internet to give us inspiration, and switching around our roles and being more flexible. To address the errors that were in permanent ink we used our creativity and cut out pieces of paper to stick over them like patches, ultimately strengthening both the document and our collaborative skills.

In conclusion, the cts manifesto stands as a testament to our collective teamwork and dedication to this class and allowed us the opportunity to meet new people and gain the experience of working together to create this manifesto and helped us  in shaping a more open minded and togetherly engaged learning environment

[resource-management-game]

1st game: The Rotating market

The first model of the game involved a board with 4 markets assigned to each player at the beginning of the game. The players get to have 5 resources handed to them arbitrarily. At a max there can be three of each resource type. This means there are 15 different values assigned for all the resources. However, they can move one step(into another market) when moving straight, along with a resource they carry with them to that market, and trade that resource with a similar one with higher rates to earn a profit. The markets are divided in rows and columns where each asset/resource has a highest as well as a lowest value. 

When the players choose to move diagonally into another market, they skip a turn and wait at the center of the square provided in the board, the space around which the players move around.

The Game was advanced and slightly upgraded into a version where the players play to make as much profit as possible.

1. Mechanics :

-Resource Management:

Managing carried resources and deciding when to trade or move is crucial.

-Trading for Profit:

Players can trade their carried resource with a similar one in the new market.

If the resource is sold at a higher rate, players to earn a profit.

The profit is based on the difference between the resource values.

Your market (which is to change in every turn) is the place that either was assigned to you when you first began the game or you have just sold something in the game and hence you're there now. From this given market you can pick anything and place it anywhere else on the market if you see that there is some profit to be earned. The market you're in right now might have a resource which is very cheap but there is a market spot available somewhere where that resource can be sold at a high value. So if that spot is empty and you can place it there, you earn the earned profit.

2. Elements :

 1. Board: Divided into sections representing each market tier, the board visualizes the shifting landscape of possibilities. It's here that you'll move your pawn pieces, by make choices to move to desired markets.

 2. Pawn Pieces:

These act as markers of your presence within the markets .With your pawn pieces, you'll traverse the board and  navigate the other player’s markets.

3. Markets: The game introduces a captivating economic ecosystem      comprising four distinct markets.The markets are organized in a three-tier format, reflecting varying levels of resource availability and demand. 4. Resource Cards: Five distinct resources are central to the gameplay. These resources form the foundation of player strategies and interactions within the markets. The resources are hierarchically organized, with each market featuring a different hierarchy that influences player decisions. Players must carefully allocate their resources to maximize and capitalize on market opportunities. These are available to players in the form of resource cards. A minimum of twelve cards is allocated for each resource type, ensuring that players have ample opportunities to engage in market transactions.

3. The Feedback

    Why it worked: 

Prices kept fluctuating

Fair losses 

Certain assets were farther, and therefore harder to purchase

Profit and Loss system was working, was not restricted to barter trade

Why it did not work:

Items were not leaving the market (being used anywhere).

Too many calculations.

No long term strategy, too quick.

Too many market elements.

Keeping track of  profits, losses and other players’ progress was difficult .

Rotating markets did not make sense with the addition of the green escape cards.

Keeping track of other players’ progress was very difficult.

[angelguk]

→ bad behaviour 03 — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon

word count: 7.5k

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship + smut + college!au 

warnings: we’re ovulating!!! / introduction to the breeding kink that will plague this couple forever / was meant 2 be a drabble?? im incapable we know that / eh big joon!!!! / manhandling kink / pet names used a lot / joon thinks he’s gf is dumb and wants to breed her idk man / size kink / crying when cumming / oc shy for once / discussion of twitter porn / creampie / oc is on birth control (obvs dont do this if u dont want a kid but this is a fanfic u know) / mentions of fisting porn / cock warming!! / if u see a typo no u dont

soundtracks: more than enough + morroco, alina baraz

prompt: “don’t you think there is always something unspoken between two people?” (Something Unspoken, Tennessee Williams).

It’s a rather serene Thursday afternoon, the late autumn breeze sweeping through the campus air. The stillness was ideal for studying, alluding to assignment deadlines creeping round the corner. Which was why your butt is firmly parked in the mess of Kim Namjoon's sheets.

The man in question is hunched in the corner of his dorm room, one large hand idly tugging at the chestnut mane on his head and his neck curved with attentiveness. You wish you possessed the determinate focus that he had, but your thoughts have a mind of their own, spiralling further into the darkest depths of your mind as they gingerly coax forth memories that spark a searing heat deep inside of you. You feel tight, drawn like the bow of an arrow, a stark contrast to the tranquillity spilling around you. The fact that Namjoon is practically naked isn’t helping your consciousness. Your gaze lingers on the rows of muscles lining his broad back, the tension running through them emphasising the dips and curves in his golden skin. His eyes, however, are glued to the myriad of words before him, the pen grasped in his grip swift as he scribbles down notes you know you’ll never be able to decipher. Not that you needed too, it was intriguing that such a put-together man like Namjoon had handwriting that essentially resembled chicken scratch. It was atrocious — but still elegant, very much embodying the person to whom the writing belonged to. You can’t recall what assignment he intended to complete today — something about the presentation of nihilism in Russian literature or whatever — but he’s devoted all his attention to it, meticulous in the numerous sticky notes and page markers that line the novel perched on his desk. It’s bent with the remembrance of his fingers, sepia-toned dogged-ear pages staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. Something blooms within you the longer you look at him, faint but strong like a tide shifting towards the shores. You don’t even register the slip of your laptop from your lap, legs sprawling open unconsciously. It spurs so quick you can’t even clamp down on it, the desire you have for the burly man bent over his world of words just a few steps away. But you know how much Namjoon values his academics. It’s with a muffled groan that you roll over, burrowing your face into his pillows in hopes that the wave will subside. It doesn't — crawling beneath your skin begging you to give in.

It’s the click of Namjoon’s pen that gets you, a sharp note that cuts through the burning of your body. Your thighs seal together, the slick that collects between your legs sticking to your core. With a sigh that you shift again, reaching out for your laptop. It’s best to look for a distraction, give him the space he needs to concentrate. At yet, your gaze can’t help but drift. He’s not covering an inch of skin, burly arms and thick thighs on display like he wants to tempt you. There are no words to describe how much you hate him —  nor how much you long to have him inside of you too.

You recall it with a jolt — the lave of his wide tongue against your folds, licking you apart with deft swift swipes that leave you weeping into his sheets more nights than you’d like to admit. You shuffle again, helpless to the yearnings of your mind. The heat on your inner thighs is a phantom. Namjoon likes to hold you down, press your hips into his sheets against the whims of your squirming. It’s the way he looks at you when you’re on the verge of tears, a wanton hunger in his eyes that unravels you fast. You can almost see it, thighs subconsciously nudging against each other. Then there’s the stretch of his fingers, larger than you own. He’s pushed you to the edge with just two of them before, persistent against that spot inside of you until he’s satisfied with the blissed slackness that descends upon your features. Then he’d add another, and another. There’s an undeclared thought between the two of you. You’ve noted the fisting porn in his Twitter bookmarks. Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to let him try.

For now, you swallow it down. Suffocate that longing until the embers burning within you smother to ashes. Your laptop returns to resting at an angle at your hip, gaze idling running through your readings. The words don’t sink in though, sitting on your skull before hastily floating away. There’s not much space for anything else but Namjoon at the moment, no matter how hard you try to reread the paragraphs or stare at your screen. You don’t even have to open the app on your phone to know what’s going on with your body. This is your first full ovulation with him. Usually, he’s preoccupied with assignments or TA responsibilities that cut your time together short, interrupting this part of your cycle and leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t fully wormed your way into Namjoon’s life to demand all his attention just yet. This was still new, untested. Namjoon was independent and so sure of himself that telling your boyfriend that you needed him to stop focusing on his future to raw the crap out of you (multiple times) felt incredibly selfish.

You stare at the words in front of you until they swim, wishing you didn’t feel like this. Like you needed Namjoon to breathe. You can wait it out, maybe get what you’re dying for after post-studying cuddles and take-out. Even if it takes every ounce of your willpower to clasp your legs together and not jump the wonderfully large man that is your boyfriend.

Unbeknown to you, the same yearning that plagues you chips away at his resolve. A persistent want that wavers in the back of his mind, clamouring for attention, because even with his eyes stuck on the pages beneath him, he can sense your fidgeting.

Your attention span is incredibly short — Namjoon knows this. It ricochets off the walls even when you’re sitting still. It’s taken time, but Namjoon has gradually adjusted to it, muting the powerful waves of energy that radiate off of you when necessary. Today, however, is different. That energy he’s learnt to ignore eats him alive, sinking below his skin and leaving him buzzed as he scours his brain for any meaningful essay points. He keeps flipping through the pages of the novel, mind attempting and miserably failing to piece together a cohesive argument that correlates with the evidence he’s got highlighted in a loud neon yellow.

All because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He wants to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while (which is a blatant lie). Namjoon saw you two days ago. You were wearing that floral skirt that he loves, the fabric hiking up your thighs whenever you lined yourself against his side, snuggling deep into him like you never wanted to leave. He hates that skirt — hates it —  because now he can’t think of anything but it, thoughts blurring at the memory of your bare skin. Skin that he loves to mark, latch onto until violets and blues blossom. His mind is running before he can catch it, falling into a dangerous reminiscence of images that sit heavy in his gut. That stupid skirt flipped up your waist and his head between your thighs. Nothing feels as good as you do on his tongue. He loves the way you taste, the sounds that drift from your lips, the way your thighs twitch and tremor as you unravel underneath him. You get so loud when your high hits you. He knows his roommates have heard you before, but he truly doesn’t care. He loves hearing you scream his name, drives him to the brink of insanity if he’s being honest. Yet, it’s the way you look at him afterwards, a deliriousness swimming in your eyes that makes Namjoon want to keep you in his bed forever. Fuck you until you can’t walk without feeling him deep inside of you. Paint your skin so that everyone knows who you belong to.

His head hits the table with a muted thud, a low sighing escaping into the air. The tent in his loose shorts hurts. There’s a part of him that’s mortified — how could he get hard just from the thought of you when you're sitting right there on his bed? Perhaps it’s proof that you’ve invaded everything he is. His space, his heart, his mind.

“Namjoon?” You question, tone tentative in the silence that consumes him whole. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts. And then his brain settles, a tightness in his stomach that he can’t deny. “Actually, no I’m not.”

You don’t even have time to register it before he's moving towards you. It's as if he's flown from his desk, gliding through the space between you to firmly plant himself on top of you. Your laptop is knocked to the side, lost in the muss of his bed sheets as Namjoon moulds himself into you. You can't help the breathless giggle that hits the air. It's cut by the weight of Namjoon on you. He's heavy, all hard muscles and broad shoulders. Your fingertips slip against the fabric of his shirt — 100% pure cotton because he's fastidious like that — a lightness forming in your chest just from the feel of him in your hands. He sighs and you melt, losing yourself in him as he burrows his head into the hollow of your neck. The kiss he places there is soft, but it hits like a torrent of rain, drowning you harshly. Your body ignites like the flame you wanted to smother was never extinguished. You cling to him, the only thing keeping you afloat in the wave of adoration that crashes into you.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" You murmur, vibrating when he kisses you again. Namjoon hums in response, his wide hands shifting to settle on the back of your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart to nestle himself there. Your back jolts when you feel it — feel him. Hard and needy against your core, a heat radiating where you meet. The flutter in your eyes is automatic, brain shutting down when he rolls his hips. He nips your neck then, a light press of his teeth into the delicate skin. You stop breathing when he smothers the pain with a kiss, thoughts dissolving into the air as you stare at the ceiling of his dorm, thinking you're never going to let this man go.

"Namjoo—" His mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, swallowing the words with a gentle press of his lips until yours fall apart. Kissing him might be one of your favourite activities ever. He feels good against your lips, ginger but sure in how he works you open, drawing sighs from your throat like he was born to do so. It’s easy to give in, your hips moving against his and your fingers dragging through his hair. It’s with a soft gasp that you part, the air around you electric. His brown eyes are dark but they gaze at you with an adoration that makes your heart swell. There are moments where you feel it on the tip of your tongue, a proclamation that yearns to spill out. But it’s too early to say anything like that yet. So you draw him closer instead, the content laugh that floats from his throat caught in your mouth. This kiss is different, more desperate, a hope that he understands what you mean heavy in your chest. You think he does because he kisses you back with an intent that leaves you breathless, a heady thing that has you arching into him before it peters out into tender little pecks. Your heart is so full it could explode.

And it does a second later when he drops a light kiss on your forehead, his wide hands settling on the backs of your thighs as he presses himself further into you. You know he feels the slick drenching your underwear by the hitch in his breath.

“Study break?” He offers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that ensnares you. A danger that glows like stars adorning a velvet sky.

“Namjoon,” you groan in response, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel the length of him, hard and twitching against you. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair.”

“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a nudge that coaxes another slip from your core. The whine that leaves your lips is instinctual.

“I do! It’s just that — um — just that I’m ovulating right now.”

The second the word leaves your mouth he freezes, broad body suspended over you and a distant look sweeping over his honey eyes. And then something clicks, his cock settling further into you, a twitch along his length that echoes in your nerves.

“Right now?” The words that leave his mouth are measured, his gaze locking on your own as if he’s weighing the consequences of his desires.

“Yes, right now. I don’t know if we—”

“Can I be honest with you? I haven’t been able to focus since you came over and the idea of you ovulating is doing nothing but making me extremely hard right now.”

“I — what? Really? Are you serious?”

He nods, unabashed as the blush rising beneath his golden skin. Your fingers dig further into his back, the want that sweeps through your system feral. It's so swift that you can’t control the rise of your hips nor the warmth that pools in your gut. Namjoon dissolves right back into you, the groan that slips from his mouth meeting the heat of your skin as he burrows himself back into the crook of your neck. You’re no longer thinking, your brain stuck on the feeling of his cock against you, direct with every drag of his hips.  He wants this as much as you do, a realisation that you’re still trying to comprehend. You have to ask again, terrified of the teetering edge you’re on.

“You sure? Like really?”

He scoffs, shifting back to give you a look. “You’ve seen my NSFW twitter, baby. You know what’s there.”

“Yeah, a lot more fisting porn than I ever expected.” There’s a beat of silence, Namjoon’s gaze shifting into something you can’t decipher. “Not that I’m against fisting,” you quickly amend, “It was just surprising.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the only thing there.”

You know what he's referring to but seeing other people commit the act and then doing it yourself were too completely different things. There are still some things you’re too ashamed to say out loud and that particular kink of one of them. While your ovulation had a rather stronghold over you, so did your inner mortification.

Namjoon, on the other hand, cannot be bothered to beat around the bush. “You’ve seen what’s there right?" He repeats. "Creampies? Cum play? Breeding—”

“Don’t say that!”

He pauses, a playful grin tugging at his lips.”Is that what you want? Because you’re ovulating? What me to stuff—”

“Namjoon, stop it!”

He laughs then, a low sound dangerous that fills the room and swallows the embarrassment that eats away at you alive. “How can I? My pretty girl wants me to breed her, stuff her full of cum until it’s leaking from her cunt. You want that right? Want my cock so deep you feel it tomorrow? Am I right, baby? Hmm?”

You’re not looking at him, cheeks burning with every word parting his lips, but your cunt agrees wholeheartedly, leaking against your panties at the thought of Namjoon fucking you full. He doesn’t take your silence well though, a firm hand clasping around your jaw and tugging your focus right back into him. There's a glint in his eyes, a sharp dark wild thing.

“Baby.” He says it slowly, the word tumbling from his lips and right into the heat forming in your core. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you retort, feeling the twitch that tremors through his jaw deep inside of you. Namjoon scoffs, hand dropping from your chin. The absence of his touch has you scrambling after it, the movement occurring before you can bite back your desperation.

“Maybe? Then you don’t want it enough do you? I should leave you to study, don’t you think?”

“Namjoon.” Your fingers grip into his shirt before he can shift away, a pounding in your chest that terrifies you. “Maybe I do want it  — a lot — I just can't say it.”

“You can’t say it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “But you know how to use your words when you’re arguing with me.”

He’s infuriating and he’s doing it on purpose from the telltale gleam in his eyes. You don’t know what to despise more; Namjoon and his provocations or your inability to vocalise your desires. But that anger withers into wanting the second he settles back between your thighs, cock hard and heavy where you need him most. Yet, still, saying it out loud isn’t possible for you just yet. But you do want it, a great deal more than you’d ever admit.

“That’s different,” you say instead. “That’s when you’re being stupid.”

The eye-roll you're granted is brimming with exasperation. “Of course, you would say that.”

“And I’m correct.”

“Sure, you are,” Namjoon returns, nuzzling into your chest. He’s saying it to complacent you and it ticks you off

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, a warning in your voice.

Namjoon sighs, perfect face burrowed between your boobs. “I’m not arguing with you right now. You look cute when you get mad and I’m hard enough as it. Besides, that’s not the point.”

That should not have you buzzing, the word cute sticking out from the rest of his horrid statement like a neon light in the dark. But you let it rest, preoccupied with the fact that:

a. Namjoon is horny

b. So are you

“So,” you say. “What was the point?”

“The point is that you’re too shy to say you want me to stuff you—”

Point B no longer exists. You are no longer horny even when he’s looking at you like that with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“I get it,” you retort, “I get the point. And I’m not saying that. Not today, not ever.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” There’s a challenge there, and like an idiot you fall for it, raising an indignant eyebrow in response.

“Yes, I will not—”

He’s got the band of your sweatpants down in a second, wiggling the fabric down your hips and past your butt faster than you can blink. You don’t object, a muffled giggle drifting from your throat when he finally gets them off, tossing the pants somewhere in the corner of his room, something to be searched for later, not now. That giggle shifts to a moan the second his face dives between your thighs, the deep breath he takes in kindling a flame in your gut. There’s the faint press of his tongue through the cotton of your underwear, the low groan he lets out when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties setting something off within you.

“Oh — oh — N-Namjoon!”

“Yes, baby?” Another lick, tongue quick and firm against your drenched core.

“Don’t play with me. I can’t handle that right now.”

“I’m not playing,” he remarks. “Just giving you a reason to say you want me to stuff you full of my cum. I know you want to say it anyway.”

You huff. “You think I’ll give in that easi — hgnh.” He’s tearing your underwear off, tongue landing back onto your wet folds before you can register the fact that the fabric is gone. A few firm wet laves of that muscle against your cunt and you can see your resolve crumbling. He knows exactly where to lick and drag his tongue, nose buried into the apex of your cunt as if he wants to breathe you in. You can’t help the buck of your hips, a tremor running down your thighs when his tongue slips into your hole, pressing in with purpose and leaving you breathless in his sheets. But then he’s drawing away and you glance down to find him staring at your cunt in wonder, his rouge mouth glistening with your slick.

“How can I not,” Namjoon says, offering a kitten lick that spikes a shock in your spine, “Play with you when you’re so fun to play with, angel.” The smile on his lips is dangerous.

Your hand settles on his head and Namjoon curls into it. But instead of dragging your fingernails against his skull and pulling him closer like you know he loves, you shove him away, swiftly squeezing your thighs shut. If you’re going to play this game, you’re doing it on your terms.

“You’re not being fair,” you say. Namjoon blinks at you like you’re insane, obviously thinking with the dick in his pants rather than his head. “Go back to your Isaac Turganife or whatever.”

“It’s Ivan Turgenev, baby,” he replies, sighing slow. “And I don’t want to go? Do you really want me to?” He plants a tender kiss on your bare thigh and you burst with want, slick leaking out even though you didn’t intend it to.

“Not fair,” you say again. But you don’t want him to leave you like this, at the mercy of your hormones and the sudden remembrance of Namjoon’s thick cock stretching you open. “But no, I don’t want you to go. Just don’t play with me please.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But if we’re being honest here all I can think about is seeing my cum leak out of you. I just want you to want that as much as I do.” He says it in a rush like he’s afraid he won’t have the nerve to admit it if he doesn’t do it right now.

But I do, you think, walls fluttering just from the flash of that image in your mind. I do, Namjoon. And yet, you can’t say it.

“I’m ovulating, Namjoon,” you retort instead.

“And you’re also on birth control,” he rebuttals. “PEMDAS or whatever. It cancels out the baby option, right?”

“You are so dumb it hurts, Kim Namjoon,” you murmur, fighting the urge to kiss your stupid boyfriend. It’s a very odd conversation to be having when your cunt is on display and his dick is hard in his pants but you’re having it anyway.

“We’ve fucked raw before though?” He continues, still not piecing it together. “And so far, no baby. So no problem right?”

“When I’m not ovulating. Less risk, at least that’s what I like to believe.”

“Well I suggest you start believing that right now because I would very much like to see you stu—”

“Stop saying that you’re making me want to turn celibate!”

“Oh?” Namjoon remarks. “And yet you’re leaking all over my sheets every time I mention it.”

“I will cut you off from sex for a week if you say something like that again,” you retort.

Namjoon grins like he knows this is affecting you on a deeper level than your cunt being wet. “Fair enough, but I have to ask. Do you want that?”

“Want what?” Feigning ignorance is the safest bet until that shift in his eyes appears.

“Want my cum?” he says it so easily, unaffected while your face rushes with heat.“Inside of you, leaking out of you… All of it?”

And maybe you stop breathing at the thought of feeling full of everything Namjoon had to offer you, your walls clenching tight.

“Maybe. Maybe I do, I don’t know.” You do know and Namjoon knows that you do too. It’s with a defeated murmur that you admit it, voice soft in his room. “Okay, fine. I do. I want that.”

“You do?” There’s an edge in his voice. “You want me to bre—”

“Stop it before I change my mind.”

He laughs, a light warm thing that digs into your chest. “Okay, okay! Sorry, babe. Do you want me to prep you? My mouth? My fingers? You can decide.”

It’s settled so quick in your brain you realise it was never up for debate. “Neither. Just you. I just want you.”

He halts, honey eyes locked on yours for a moment, before springing to his feet and tugging his shirt over his head with speed. “We can do that,” he mumbles, his knees bumping against the foot of his bed. His pants come off next, plummeting to the ground where he kicks them off a moment later. It’s only then that you see the consequence of actions, straining painfully against his boxer briefs. He shifts to tug those off too but you cut the movement before it happens, shuffling forward until your hand is cupped around his length. Namjoon doesn’t protest, rolling into the tiny palm of your hand. You love the way he feels underneath your palm, thick and hard and heavy, a weight you long to feel inside of you. He sighs low when you grip him, watching your fingers wrap around the outline of his dick through the fabric. It’s only then that you realise, your gaze slipping down his body, subtly noting the sharp intake of breath when your lips mimic what he did to your underwear before he ripped it off, that Namjoon has been holding himself back.

He wants this, badly. It’s evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks a moment later.

“Angel,” It’s said low, a warning. “I thought we said we wouldn’t play with each other.”

He’s right. With a small pout, you lean away and Namjoon wastes no time moving into your space, strong arms swapping your arm just to land you back at the head of his bed. You suddenly remember your laptop, lost in the mess of his sheets. Namjoon is kind enough to relocate it before climbing right back into your space, cock digging into your stomach when he kisses you again. It doesn’t take long before your top is gone, joining Namjoon’s pants on the floor, and then you’re digging the band of his underwear down, your lips still slotted together and a wetness rapidly forming between your thighs at the feel of his bare cock against you.

But he’s impatient, shuffling you around the second his length is freed. Your back is hard against his mattress, fingers grasping at the sheets when Namjoon knocks your knees apart. There’s a moment of bated breath, his large hands lingering against the bare skin of your exposed thigh, brown eyes locked on your wet folds. His gaze is so intense you instinctively want to clamp your legs shut, shy away from how seen you feel under his eyes. Yes, technically you were naked in his bed but there’s something else that he draws out just from looking at you. Something that makes you nervous because you like it so much.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s whispered in the heat of the air, Namjoon picking up on how your legs drift together. He’s got them pressed apart a second later, grip firm but gentle, and your stomach does a swoop so dangerous you’re left violently reeling, the ceiling above you spinning. “Don’t do that, angel. Too pretty to hide from me. I want to see all of you.”

You can only hum in response, throat clogged with words that won’t form into coherent sounds. But Namjoon understands you regardless, kissing you senseless as his massive body descends on yours. His hands are on your ass a second later, gripping tight as his length nudges against your core. You just might cry, desperation bubbling in your chest. He draws away gently but you don’t want to let him leave, fingers taut on his broad back, gripping onto the very muscles that had you heady just earlier today. There’s a whine on your tongue that he swallows before you part once more. The laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of your pouted mouth is fond. He grants you another peck, soft and tender, before Namjoon rips himself away, determined this time.

His hips are lined against yours a moment later, cock stiff and dripping with precum. And yet your gaze doesn’t tear from the arms trapping you in his sheets. His biceps look huge, massive actually, all hard muscle and pure strength. It’s doing something to the base part of your brain because you can’t stop thinking about how large Namjoon is. Caving you in, your personal shelter from the world. Is it weird that you feel protected? Safe in the bed of this boy. You wouldn’t mind hiding here forever. A part of you wants to kiss him again, but Namjoon’s focused on other things, oblivious to the cave-woman looking for a mate thoughts running amok in your brain.

They dissipate the moment the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. Just a light tease, but he splits you open quick enough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, angel. Didn’t need me to prep you at all.”

You mumble a noise that you’re not sure leaves your throat. He’s taking it slow on purpose, pushing in inch by inch so that you feel every part of him filling you up. It’s intoxicating, how the feeling of the slow drag of his cock overtakes everything in your brain. You’ll never get over how big Namjoon is, no matter how many times he fucks you. Each shift of his hips forward coaxing slick from your cunt. It pools at your entrance, dripping over his length until he’s glistening with your wetness.

“F-fuck,” He head drops down to the hollow of your neck the moment he’s sheathed inside, the velvet walls of your pussy gripping him hard. It’s too much for the both of you, bodies strung high on the want that threatened to consume you both. But he feels good like this, lodged in your cunt, stretching you wide and making a place for himself right between your legs. He gives you a moment to adjust and then the coiled spring in him snaps.

“So fucking tight around me, angel. Taking my cock so well.” There’s an edge in his voice, a warning for what’s to come.

You groan when he draws up, a tiny squeal erupting from your throat when he slams back down, hips angled to piston you into his sheets. The pounding is hard and unforgiving, a contradiction to the gentle look in his gaze. He holds you tight, giving you no room to shuffle under the bruise of his thrusts.

You can’t do anything but mumble his name, tongue numb in your mouth as he fucks you senseless.

“You’re dripping so much, baby. Making a mess on the sheets. You wanted my dick that bad, huh? Wanted me to fuck you full? Stuff this dirty cunt of yours?”

“J-Joon!” There’s an arch in your back, a dangerous tingle fluxing through your nerves when his mouth latches on your neck, your chests pressed against each other. Each drive into you pushes out a haggard breath, the heat into the room wrapping around your joint bodies, your arms slung over his shoulders, gripping him tight as he unravels you with his cock. Time stops, nothing punctuating the moment apart from the lewd sound of your meeting, your slick slipping from your cunt each time he hits deep. And he keeps at it, fucking you with a vigour that feels new and vicious.

You can feel him tensing beneath your fingertips, a soreness spreading through your muscles with every hard thrust of his hips into you. But you don’t care, delirious with the feeling of his cock deep within you, slamming right into that spot that has you dangling off the edge. The tight grip on your thighs adds to it, Namjoon pressing you down as he fucks you open like you’re nothing but a toy for his pleasure. He slams into you with abandon, his lips on your neck. Every drag is loud in the room, the slick pooling around your entrance orchestrating the sound of your meeting. You love how he feels over you, broad and big and pinning you down with an ease that shouldn't have you stomach twisting but it does. And he knows that, reading the whimpers that leave your throat well. You can feel it, the knot that tightens with every hard drive of him into you. So close, a blink of your eyes and you could be there. But then he slows, cock squelching against your entrance with a half-hearted thrust.

“Namjoon—" You’re burning, fingers scrambling to push his hips down, shove your hips up. Anything. Anything because if he gives you nothing you’ll implode.

“My baby is so quiet today. Hmm? Why are you so quiet? You don’t want my cum? Don’t want me to breed this tight little cunt of yours?” There’s a  in his tension colouring his deep voice, like he’s holding back from saying something. You want to ask but your needs are forefront in your mind clamouring for attention.

“Joon!” He nips your neck at that whine and you dissolve into his sheets, nothing but pleasure running through your limbs. “Namjoon please, please, please. I want it, Joon, need it.”

He cocks his head, a languid roll into your core that has you squirming underneath his hold. “Need what? Words baby, words.”

“Need your cum.” It’s shameful to say and the heat in your cheeks makes it obvious, Namjoon doesn’t care, shifting his hips so that his cock slowly slips out. Your legs clamp around him so quick that his chest smacks into yours, a muffled sigh escaping into the air.

“Need it where?” He says, hips rigid with how he holds himself back. It takes tenacity to make you work for it. You feel perfect around him, tight pussy stretched around his length and your slick dripping all over. So needy, so wet, velvet walls clinging to his cock leaving him weak even though he tries to hide it. You’re intoxicating, your heat, the feeling of your body moulded into his, the way you moan his name. He wants to hear you scream it though, hear your throat go hoarse with each cry until you're a blubbering mess in his bed. There are other things he wants too, but he needs to hear you say this first.

“Inside,” you reply, a perfect whimper drifting from your bruised lips. “Inside me, Namjoon, please.”

He gives in then and there, resolve shattering when his gaze drifts to the minuscule grind of your hips against his own, his cock sinking deep with every shift of your waist upward. It’s not long until he’s sheathed back inside of you, length twitching against the heat of your walls. He wants to take it slow, make you beg for him a little more, but there’s a weight in his gut that threatens to drop. And then his focus shifts to the span of your stomach and it slams into him so quick he nearly chokes. He may joke about it as a kink, the idea of fucking you until you were bearing his child, but the actual vision of your stomach swelling hadn’t occurred in his thoughts until right then. You would look ethereal, round with evidence of his love for you. He can’t help the palm that settles there as his hips slowly rut forward, forcing himself deeper, needing to see you stretch out for him.

“Joon,” you sigh, shuddering at the press of his balls against your ass.

He hums, thoughtful, dark eyes lingering on the sway of your chest. “Yes, baby?”

“Harder, please, harder.”

“Anything my baby wants, she gets. Isn’t that right, princess.” And then he’s falling out of you, quick when he slams back down. Your voice sounds foreign to your eyes, brain roughly registering the harsh feeling of his hands as he swiftly rearranges you, cock still buried deep, until your knees are folded over his broad shoulders. The quake in your thighs is violent. But you don’t protest, mind unable to shift from the hard pistons he delivers into your cunt, thrusts demanding your release. There’s the sway of the bed beneath you, soft sheets bundling underneath the weight of your joint bodies, a heaviness in the air you breathe. He fucks you with a purpose that wasn’t there before, as if he needs to see you stuffed with his cum, unravelling around his length, a mess beneath him.

And you give it to him, shuddering when his fingertips sneak to your clit, the flickers he lands there unfaltering. That combined with the steady drag of his cock has your vision blanking, contentment spilling through your nerves as your high hits. It’s quick; a hard fast thing and spreads right from your core and through your system. Namjoon fucks you through it, swallowing your incoherent mumbling with a deft press of his lips against yours. You don’t realise you’re crying until he swipes a thumb along your cheeks, dropping a kiss on the damp skin of your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. You don’t miss how his hips speed up, muscles tense underneath your trembling fingertips. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

“Cum in me,” you reply, breaking away to catch his gaze. Namjoon chokes, hips faltering. You don’t let him process it, still riding high on the look colouring his features. This is what he wanted from you, and you’re drunk enough on the feeling of him deep inside of you to say it. There’s still a tremor in your walls that grips him tight and you aid it by raising your hips upwards, the bend uncomfortable but worth the darkness that consumes the brown of his eyes. A part of you wants to say it again and you do, voice low in the room. “Joon, I need you. Need to feel full.”

“Fuck me.” It’s said under his breath but you don’t miss it, stomach twisting when his cock slams into you. It’s hard and mean. Namjoon takes everything you’re giving him, folding you into his mattress and driving his hips hard enough for the bed-frame to shift, a low thud against his bedroom wall. You let him have his way, groaning into his ear, the sheen of sweat that builds on both your bare bodies glimmering under the dwindling glow of the sunlight. There’s a faint tepid heat flickering in your core and it sparks up when Namjoon lands a hard kiss on the span of your neck, moaning low as he splits you open on his cock.

“So fucking tight.” There’s a hitch in your rugged breathing, your grip on his ruined sheets fierce. “So wet. All for me. All mine. Right, baby? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” you whisper in return, lost in the feeling of him enclosing you in. “All yours.”

His lips are soft against your own, a delicate press of his mouth that doesn’t match how hard he’s fucking you. But you revel in it, rupturing into something bright and wild and full of love underneath the piston of his hips. It’s good now, the sensitivity you felt a moment ago ebbing into nothing but heat and want. You don’t miss how he twitches against your walls, thrusts growing erratic with every lewd slam of his length inside of you. And you want it, reminding Namjoon of that fact with wicked whispers in his ear. He caves fast, a few last hard rolls before he paints your walls in his release, the moan he lets out bleeding into your skin. You’re on edge now, the feeling of Namjoon’s cum coating your cunt when you’re at peak fertility doing something stupid to your brain. It shouldn’t turn you on — in fact you should be terrified. You weren’t ready to be a parent, yet the weight of him on you, the spurt of cum that slips from your cunt when he draws again, sends your spiralling. It’s swift, the swing of your legs back around his waist.

“No — don’t, don’t move. Not yet.”

Namjoon pauses, checks still warm and his skin a pretty golden rouge. You don’t enjoy the way he reads you.

“We can’t cuddle like this. Remember what we did last time? The cockwarming?” He suggests it easily. He gets what this is doing to you even when you don’t understand it at all. You nod because the idea of Namjoon not lodged inside you sounds abhorrent. He shifts the both of you quick enough, his softening dick back to half-mast the moment your protest emerged. It’s easier like this, with you sprawled on his broad chest. You don’t want to acknowledge it but you’re still somewhat wound up and the feeling of him holding you close, your cunt stuffed full of his cum, is doing unimaginable things to your brain. You pretend it isn’t, snuggling into the valley of his massive chest, feeling safe and secure. And then Namjoon opens his mouth.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. You know that right?”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. Ever. Pretend this never happened.”

His laughs echoes in your heart. “Baby, I just came in you and you’re ovulating. That’s fairly risky, don’t you think?”

“I told you!” You whack his arm for good measure. “I told you it was dumb.”

“But I liked it,” Namjoon continues, staring intently at the ceiling. “A lot.” You flutter, cheeks hot at his admission, a bubbling in your chest that shouldn’t be there. “And judging from how you’re using my dick to keep my cum inside of you, I’m guessing you liked it too.”

“...Maybe.” You hate it but he’s right. You liked having him use you like that, the prospect of his cum doing more than leaving you euphoric with satisfaction lingering in the depths of your mind.

“Maybe?” He scoffs, wide hand gently pushing you off his chest despite the whine you release. “Get off then, I need to check if my dick is intact. I think I saw the fifth dimension when I came.”

“Shut up, please!” You cling to your boyfriend, viciously wiggling around until you feel him twitch inside of you. It’s too nice of a feeling to lose just yet. “Why are you ruining it?”

“Why can’t you admit what you’re into? Speaking of that subject, I don’t know what your kinks really are. So far there’s been a bit more exhibitionism than I expected from you but the breeding one… is different. Not bad. Just different,” he suddenly rambles.

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Your voice is small, landing on his naked chest in the silence of his room. His hand shifts from shoving you off to gingerly resting on you back, rough fingertips languidly tracing patterns on your skin. The motion is reassuring, yet you can still hear the eye roll in his voice when he speaks.

“You’ve seen the fisting porn on my NSFW twitter, what the hell do you mean embarrassing?”

“It just is!” You protest. “I’m not sure what I’m into.”

“I think you are, you’re just not comfortable admitting it to yourself. Don’t you watch porn? Or have any particular fantasies?” Namjoon’s persistent despite your deflection and while some part of you hates it, you know he’s right. He always is — well most of the time.

“I do,” you retort instead, refusing to give him an ounce of triumph. “You know that don’t be dumb.”

“Well then,” Namjoon returns, curiosity colouring his voice, “What’s your NSFW twitter? I’ve shown you mine, let me see yours.”

“I don’t have one…”

There’s a pause, the hand on your back drawing to a halt. You can hear the cogs in his head turning.

“You don’t? What do you use then?”

“...Yours,” you whisper. The breath that falls from his lips is horrified. “I like most of the stuff you like,” you quickly tack on. Somehow this is more shameful than admitting that you like being stuffed with Namjoon’s cum. The silence carries on and you're left stewing in your thoughts, looking for a way out of this awkward mess when Namjoon starts up again, a tentativeness in his tone that concerns you.

“Most of what I like,” he says. Another pause. “... Including the fisting porn?”

“Namjoon,” you snap, “Shut up.” You can’t believe you’re allowing this man to plug his dick in you after sex, can’t believe it at all. It’s a horrible realisation to come too especially when he breaks out into a loud laugh, his chest shuffling you around with every quick intake of air and the sound of his glee resounding in your heart.

“Sorry, angel,” he offers between muffled laughs. You hate him. You do even if you love him ten times more than you hate him. “We should make you one after this,” Namjoon says. “And then get food. Sounds good with you?”

“Food first,” you retort, mellow in the arms of your lover. “And then the Twitter porn.”

[gordonengineswifenirmal]

Good point. They don’t usually start out life as haters n such. This goes for any gender. They are shaped by their environment. Peers , the media they consume, relatives, friends, etc. instill toxic thoughts into them. If they are not taught straight away to think for themselves - question BOTH sides of arguments, do research, and use logical common sense thinking, they will wind up biased. That’s how these things REALLY occur. That is only one example. Sadly, whilst a lot of what modern people ‘advocate’ for isn’t completely wrong or false, they believe and spread misinformation, because it’s more socially gratifying.

It’s the crowd on a bridge mentality-

I used to be annoyed af hearing this growing up. Now that I’m older and wiser, I see the value in it. Sadly, you would THINK the most obvious answer to the question is ‘no’. And verbally, it may be. However, in actions, it’s very different. This is why narcissists gain followers so easily. Some folks are afraid to stand up against the narcissist. Others think that they will benefit from the praise they get by following along. In truth, they’re allowing themselves to be used. It’s a sad existence, really. The narcissists suck the soul out of their followers.

This has a lot of relevance in terms of wokeness as well. Consider the following:

https://criticaltherapyantidote.org/2022/09/25/group-narcissistic-manifestations-in-critical-social-justice-aka-woke-movements-part-1/

The first, overarching feature of the Woke worldview is the common-enemy (a type of paranoid defence) position its adherents and purveyors assume in the world. The Woke common-enemy position is an identitarian position, in which society is politically categorised according to immutable characteristics as identity markers (race, sex/gender, sexual orientation, ability, etc.). By assigning moral value to these characteristics, in-group/out-group social dichotomies are created, and society is split between an oppressed, innocent victim class on the one hand, and a hostile, evil oppressor class on the other. The Woke worldview is a system in which collectives are morally essentialised. Assigned collective innocence or guilt serves as a template to judge each interaction on an individual level, including each participant’s feelings, intentions, judgments, wishes and character traits. ‘The question isn’t did racism (or sexism or homophobia or transphobia or ablism, etc.) take place, but rather, where it took place’ as DiAngelo proclaims. The psychodynamic defence in operation here is splitting, which is a primitive defence mechanism whereby individuals experience themselves or others as totally good or totally bad. This mechanism is most observed among infants, severely regressed individuals and groups, and severe personality pathologies.

From the all-bad perspective of this split, a person disidentifies from, devalues and dehumanises the Oppressor. This demonised Other is relegated to a state of culpability, deserving of contempt and destruction. Simultaneously from the all-good perspective, identification with and idealisation of the Victim takes place, where the Victim is endowed with a state of moral purity, innocence and vulnerability. The Oppressor is viewed as a cruel, merciless monster, against whom the Victim should be defended. Since moral essentialisation has taken place, obliteration of the Oppressor is not only morally justified (as the Victim is morally infallible) it is actively encouraged, as the slightest measure of leniency is seen as capitulation to an utterly evil Oppressor, which will only lead to further unnecessary suffering of the Victim. Ironically, the behaviour of Woke Victims and their allies toward the Oppressor is no different from that of which they accuse the Oppressor. Silencing and suppression of speech, public attacks and humiliation, death threats, destructive looting and the like are behaviours one would associate with tyrants; the irony is that the Woke Victim class and their allies have a  commitment to precisely such behaviour.

Socially, the Woke worldview is proclaimed as sophisticated and moral, and those who ascribe to it, receive social prestige. Intersectional victimhood status and heroic allyship are promoted as convictions that would earn a person much-coveted socio-moral status. Proclaimers of this worldview often admit to their own biases and prejudices, and use these admissions as the basis to assume that everyone else was socialised to have the exact same biases. As Robin DiAngelo demonstrated in her book, White Fragility, instead of taking responsibility for their own racism, failing to live up to the ideals of their own worldview, they projecttheir failures and frustrations onto the collective Oppressor class, with equally vicious aggression, physical violence, public humiliation, demonisation, and cancellation.

Because the moral status of whole groups of people is determined by their immutable characteristics (or parts), the Woke Victims and their allies collectively assume a part-object representation (more about this concept below) of the world. This global attribution of either culpability or moral glory based on mere aspects of a person or class prohibits an ambivalentposition in which the whole person with all their traits (good and bad) is engaged with. To permanently cement these peculiar object relations, the following features are written into the Worldview:

* immutable characteristics are selected as moral registers;

* historical guilt and innocence are regarded as ever-present realities;

* history is revised and sanitised to remove any historical empathy that could lead to ambivalence;

* statistics of wealth, poverty, employment and suffering are selectively reported to sustain the Victim/Oppressor narrative;

* completion of the work of dismantling and destruction is deferred. This ensures a constant supply of societal objects (cultural, linguistic, scientific, biological, historical, and personal) to problematise (devalue and earmark for destruction) and dismantle.

A consequence of such psychological processes is a collective embodiment of what Melanie Klein described as primal envy. This is demonstrated through the following: their impaired ability to endure an ambivalent position (the opposite of splitting); their impaired ability to appreciate and preserve what is deemed valuable by society; the perpetual shifting of targets earmarked for destruction; the ever evasiveness of gratitude and peace; and the sheer pleasure from fantasising about, verbalising and enacting destruction of cultural artefacts, online mobbing, reactive abuse and trolling. Such destructiveness requires immense aggression, moral self-justification (essential self-idealisation, a feature of grandiosity), and divesting the Other of reason for mercy (essential devaluation). Maintaining such caustic envy requires committed self-idealisation, since the weakening of moral self-righteousness may leave room for appreciation of the Other, which in turn might bring the Woke adherent face-to-face with their own sheer destructiveness – a realisation that could burden them with unbearable guilt and shame.

Within this worldview, a complex assemblage of internal, defensive operations is activated. These defences cohere in such a fashion, that Woke ideologues exhibit a predictable array of attitudes, judgments and behaviours projected upon themselves, members of their in-group, celebrities who endorse their ideological position and their ideological enemies. The character structure of these defences is well-known to those familiar with psychodynamic psychology (see McWilliams, 2011). This structure is a clear depiction of collective narcissism. To see how this analysis fits into the narcissistic superstructure, and to see how the defensive operations within the Woke ideological movement assemble into three narcissistic character types, a more detailed discussion of narcissism is needed.

Characteristics of the narcissistic subject

In psychoanalytic psychology, object relations refer to the way a person relates to the world of people and things, based on specific beliefs and expectations about themselves and those others. These patterns can be conceptualised as internal structures or templates which each person unconsciously and exhaustively enacts toward themselves and others. In their object relations, narcissists have a particular bias or central tendency in their relational structure, namely, to relate to themselves and to others, based on mere aspects or parts of themselves and others. A person is imagined to be either totally good or totally bad (split defences), based on aspects of that person they regard as all good or all bad. They would consider someone to be all bad, for instance, based on their struggle with their temper, or their lack of sporting ability, or sense of guilt for past mistakes, etc., or imagine another to be all good, based on their sense of humour, or their participation in a favourite sports team, or their support of a particular ideology, etc. This dynamic – the judgement of the self or another in their totality based on parts or aspects thereof – is called part-object representations.

Another characteristic of the narcissist’s relational dynamic is their demand for agreement, affirmation, approval, and obedience. These mirroring demands exist precisely because the narcissist feels fusedin their object relations, meaning that, what they think, feel or believe to be true is assumed to be present also in the minds of others. They lack the capacity to authentically appreciate distinct subjective experiences of others.  As Fromm notes, “[T]he narcissistic person cannot perceive the reality within another person as distinct from his own” (p. 70).

The narcissistic person remains stuck within an internal and interpersonal echo chamber of sorts to ensure that a fragmented self is not activated, and instead is provided with a steady supply of affirmations and celebrations of their own beliefs, achievements and perceptions. What is described here is commonly called a narcissistic extension of the self. Whatever the narcissist identifies with – their appearance, opinions, preferences of style, political allegiance, ideological positions, social causes, friends, children, pets etc. – they incorporate into their expanded sense of self and treat these as if they were extensions of themselves. As Fromm observes, “Just as the narcissistic person has made his “self-image” the object of his narcissistic attachment, he does the same with everything connected with him. His ideas, his knowledge, his house, but also people in his ‘sphere of interest’ become objects of his narcissistic attachment” (p. 74).

We can see a textbook example of that echo chamber mentality here -

As you can see, several elements of what we discussed come into play here -

1. The turgid boasting of oneself

2. Extremely exaggerated insults

3. No opposing views are allowed

4. Everyone agrees, and several comments tend to sound repetitive in nature. They lack creativity. They literally echo each other.

5. They are insulting someone who is sex repulsed. The sex repulsed target isn’t going on about sex, but these folks sure are, especially the accusers. That's a rather weighty guilty conscience they have going there! 😂

6. They go through the same general script to intimidate and harass - (I cannot tell you how many other people have relayed that they’ve been falsely called paedos. This is why!). This is done again, for shock value, and to draw as many folks in as possible. Common themes are - anything sexual, deviant, and shocking; claims that the victim is harassing them (stalking, doxxing, etc.), insults, manipulation - (they will try to assert their power over victims in any way they can), name calling/insults, claims that the victim supports anything vulgar. Again, the goal is to make the victim look as evil as possible, so as to draw popularity away from them. Multiple narcissists may even team up in the echo chamber, as long as they agree with each other, and feed off each other. This ends when friction occurs between them.

7. Here’s another secret - in many communities, especially in fandoms, you will get people who are wildly popular. This is fine, as sometimes, they have some measure of talent. These are often folks who have become well known to other fans. They are generally harmless, until some switch flips, and their narcissistic behaviour causes them to act out. This is how you often find the toxicity within the community. You may even find others have been bullied and harassed by the same people at some point.

8. They tend to leave clues in their messages. For example, when one said ‘this wasn’t their first rodeo either’, they not only repeated what I had said (I have been a victim multiple times). In their case, it may have been a hint that they have bullied others before. In time, you can learn to pick up on these little hints. They will make you laugh and question certain things about the narcissist(s) and their followers.

10. They tend to follow a general hierarchy. These are often the ones who are the loudest and most outspoken, and who garner the most attention. In the fandom’s case, this would be bruhstation, crinklyssprinkly, haru, trainnster, and a few others. Those who are lower will comment and reblog, but are less outspoken. Those who are further down may comment. Others might just favourite the posts. This is why they get blocked. They feed into the general problem, because they are not allowed to have opinions of their own. If they attempt to, it will be seen as ‘defending the enemy’, and they too will become victimised.

https://www.straighttalkcounseling.org/post/narcissism-brainwashing-and-groupthink-how-narcissists-act-like-cult-leaders

Narcissism, Brainwashing, and Groupthink: How Narcissists Act Like Cult Leaders

When we think of cult leaders, we typically picture famous men such as Charlie Manson, Jim Jones, or David Koresh. These leaders seem far removed from our simple lives. We may question the motives of those who follow them. How could a person believe them? Why would people leave their entire families and lives to follow them? How could normal individuals become so far removed from reality in such a short time? We secretly believe we are above such people; that there is no way any of that could happen to us.

The problem with this type of thinking is that it ignores the very possibility that we have already interacted (or currently interact) with someone who acts like a cult leader. These types of leaders simply operate on a smaller scale. Rather than convince hundreds of people to follow them, they use manipulation and brainwashing techniques to control the lives of one or two people around them. Whether it be a close friend, spouse, or family member – cult leaders exploit their narcissistic personalities to ruin and destroy the lives of those who love them. Here are 5 ways that narcissists can act like cult leaders.

1. Have a Larger-Than-Life Personality

To control those around them, narcissists must have very charismatic, interesting, and different personalities than the average Joe. They may be well-read, intelligent, and have seemingly experienced countless adventures throughout their lives. They are probably the center of attention at parties and enjoy making people laugh. People are naturally drawn to these individuals. Larger-than-life personalities tend to tell people what they want to hear rather than the truth. They know how to find what makes you tick and exploit it, so you feel empathetic towards them, or learn to trust them.

2. Us vs. Them Attitude

Very early on, a narcissist may showcase an “us vs. them” mentality. This is particularly true when it comes to outsiders that do not believe in the narcissist’s lies. Wary family members or close friends simply get in the way of the narcissist. The victim’s life goals such as going to school or getting a better job can also get in the way if those goals may deprioritize the narcissist’s needs. Black and white thinking is frequently utilized in order to put people into two camps: good or bad.

3. Devalues Your Feelings

The narcissist puts their feelings above the needs of everyone else around them. Therefore, the feelings of the victim or other people don’t really matter. If you find that you blame yourself quite frequently after fights, even when the narcissist is clearly in the wrong, you may be dealing with someone who devalues your feelings. Your needs always go second, which can make you feel anxious, depressed, worthless, and hopeless. In a healthy relationship, both partners value each other’s needs equally. A narcissist does not know how to put anyone else’s’ needs above their own.

4. Compulsive Lying

A narcissist must lie to keep up the appearance that they have everything under control. They tend to lie when confronted, or when trying to impress another person. They use lies so frequently that they may be entirely unsure of what the actual truth is. Frequent lying will confuse victims, who struggle to keep up with various stories. The victim may even end up blaming themselves for not believing the “correct” version of a story, or for thinking they were told a lie in the first place.

5. The End Goal is All That Matters

To the narcissist, it doesn’t matter what they must do in order to get what they want. They don’t have the same type of moral standards that normal people do. They will lie, cheat, and steal to get what they want. They will also justify any of this poor behavior and point to the larger goal at hand as a reason for their behavior. They can even make the victim feel like this type of bad behavior is warranted because the end goal is moral.

https://psychcentral.com/blog/narcissism-decoded/2017/03/14-ways-narcissists-can-be-like-cult-leaders

If you have a spouse, family member, friend, or boss who is narcissistic, ask yourself whether any of the following 14 characteristics of destructive cults parallel your relationship with the narcissist.

Cult leaders act larger than life. They are viewed as innately good, possessing special wisdom, answerable to no one, with no one above them.

Cult members rights are subjugated for the good of the group, leader, or cause.Members are told that what the cult wants them to do is for their own good, even if it is self-destructive.

An Us vs. Them attitude prevails.Outsiders are viewed as dangerous or enemies. This turns members focus outward, reducing the chances they will spot problems within the cult. In addition, viewing others as enemies is used to justify extreme actions because of thedangers outsiders pose.

The leader or cause becomes all-important.Members devote inordinate amounts of time to the leader and group, leaving little time for self-care or reflection.

Feelings are devalued, minimized, or manipulated. Shame, guilt, coercion, and appeals to fear keep members in line. Members are led to discount their instincts and intuition and told to seek answers from the leader or cult’s teachings. Overtime, members can lose touch with their previous habits and values.

Questioning and dissent are not tolerated.Having doubts about the leader or cult is considered shameful or sinful. Members are told that doubts or dissent indicate something wrong with the member.

The ends justify the means. The rightness of the leader and cult justifies behavior that violates most peoples standards for ethics and honesty. In the zealotry of the cult, anything goes.

Closeness to the cult and leader is rewarded while distance is punished. Temporary ostracism is used to punish behavior that doesnt conform to group rules. Members fear being estranged from the group and losing their identities and the benefits of group membership.

Cult members are on an endless treadmill of becoming. Only the cult leader is considered perfect. All other members must strive to emulate the leader. Most cults are set up so that members can never achieve this perfection, which keeps them dependent.

Lies are repeated so often they seem true.The cult leader cannot be wrong and never needs to apologize.

Cult leaders enrich themselves at members expense. Members are encouraged or coerced into gratifying the leaders needs by giving up time, money, and more.

Communication is coercive or deceptive.Things are not always what they seem. This fosters confusion, leaving members vulnerable. When confused, they seek solace from the aura of certainty the leader seems to possess.

Sameness is encouraged. Certain kinds of appearance, behavior, and cult terms and language become the norm for members. Over time, members come to identify themselves as part of an entity rather than as individuals.

Doing what the leader wants is presented as the path to enlightenment or happiness. In time, this leads members to give up their old habits and norms. They live in a bubble, filtering out information that might weaken their resolve.

If you notice similarities between such techniques and your relationship with a narcissistic person, keep in mind:

Cults and narcissists use powerful forms of manipulation but there is nothing magical about what they do. Understanding their methods can allow you to avoid being taken in.

If someone is narcissistic, be mindful of sharing personal information with that person, as it may be used against you.

In any adult relationship you have the right to confront, prevent, or remove yourself from manipulation or coercive control at any time. You do not need to give a reason and you do not need the other persons permission.

In any adult relationship you have the right to ask questions, make your own decisions and honor your own values and goals.

Nobody has the right to tell you what to think or how to feel.

We can see these things clearly occurring here, even up to the point where many of these people are well know in the fandom. (Omg! How could someone well known be so bad? Surprise, this is one way.) They may feel threatened, and want to keep their status, so these are the tactics they employ to achieve their goals.

(Which makes this funnier, because I’ve never been a fan of children. I’m fine around those who are respectful, but that’s it. Even before I knew I couldn’t have them, I never wanted them. So yep, the further away from schools, the better. I was never terribly keen on me peers even as a teen. Also, I’m EXTREMELY sex repulsed - genitalia of any human being, young or old make me cringe and want to vomit. Gotta love the rampant aphobia going on here.

In fact, when I was in me 30’s, not long before I came out as ace, I had been in dating apps. I had a lad who was into me. He was about 19-20? He seemed very nice and polite. Wasn’t bad looking. Had a cat. I didn’t hate him. The problem for me was that he was soooo young, it felt like he had a cougar kink. When I was younger and did have more attraction, it was to older men.

However, I’d watch for these folks. The vibe they r giving is from themselves, and it can’t b simply washed away in their communal shower day at the trailer park. Another thing that makes the ironic is that these people boast about how they support prostitution. Also, I’ve made several posts about how some tumblr ads are particularly disturbing, because they not only feature ONLY women being objected, but women who are sometimes creepily young.

As for being a hag, you can surely imagine the scruffy, unkept appearance of that creature. The inflated sense of self importance there is a common narcissist hallmark. It’s also rather amusing, predictable, and shows their limited intellect.

The third characteristic of the narcissist’s object relations is the defensive split within which it takes place. On the all-good side of the split, the self is perceived to be idealised (adored, special and perfect in appearance, abilities, intelligence, morality, etc.), fused with an omnipotent Other providing them with interest, priority, approval and admiration. If fusion is threatened through disagreement or imperfect affirmation (this mirroring is also called narcissistic supply), or bad aspects within themselves or the Other are encountered, the narcissist’s sense of self feels threatened against the anguish of disorientation and fragmentation. Any perception of reality that threatens their perception, or their grandiosity results in the affliction of a narcissistic injury. This threat can be simple disagreement, criticism, lack of admiration or being the subject of a joke. A relational switch takes place, and within this all-bad state, the narcissist experiences the world as hostile, aggressive and malicious, and themselves as inadequate, worthless and commonplace. Because this all-bad state is so unbearable, the narcissist typically resorts to aggression, either to destroy the devalued Other, or to destroy the worthless and frustrating self, in an attempt to restore the grandiose self and omnipotent Other. This aggressive response is referred to as narcissistic rage.

“If he is the world, there is no world outside which can frighten him; if he is everything, he is not alone; consequently, when his narcissism is wounded he feels threatened in his whole existence. When the one protection against his fright, his self-inflation, is threatened, the fright emerges and results in intense fury. This fury is all the more intense because nothing can be done to diminish the threat by appropriate action; only the destruction of the critic – or oneself – can save one from the threat to one’s narcissistic security” (Fromm, p. 78).

Fromm also identifies another important and relevant characteristic of narcissism when he states:

“The most dangerous result of narcissistic attachment is the distortion of rational judgment. The object of narcissistic attachment is thought to be valuable (good, beautiful, wise, etc.) not on the basis of an objective value judgment, but because it is me or mine. Narcissistic value judgment is prejudiced and biased. Usually, this prejudice is rationalized in one form or another, and this rationalization may be more or less deceptive according to the intelligence and sophistication of the person involved” ( p. 76).

The inherent danger of a narcissist who is also endowed with intelligence and power is their ability to abuse their authority, and manipulate facts to their own advantage. Narcissists have a peculiar difficulty with facts as objective truth, because the concept of disinterestedness feels threatening to them. Within their fused part-object relations, facts are especially vulnerable to the invasion by the narcissist’s personal agendas and prejudices. Other than those who are not as severely narcissistic, and who are better equipped at integrating disinterested facts, the narcissist tends to use dialogue, judgment and critical reasoning to their own prejudiced agendas. In response to criticism or refutation, then, the narcissist must respond defensively, as described above, which usually includes both emotional and intellectual manipulation.

In both personal and professional relationships, the narcissist engages in fact-manipulation to ensure that their perception of reality prevails. They will resort to ambiguous language, nuance manipulation, selective amnesia, emotionality, aggressive defensiveness and reinterpretation of another’s motives to skilfully establish that their perception of events is simply indisputable. A person’s response would typically be one of confusion, self-doubt and disorientation. Bait-and-switch tactics, equivocation, cherry-picking and revisionist reinterpretation of events tend to have a disorienting effect on people, especially those who sincerely trust the narcissist. This phenomenon is commonly known as gaslightingand is possibly the clearest hallmark of narcissistic relationships.

Narcissistic subtypes

In his work on the disorders of the self, James Masterson classified three types of narcissism. These are: exhibitionistic (grandiose) narcissism, closet (vulnerable) narcissism, and devaluing narcissism. With all three types of narcissism, the person engages in fusion relations, resort to splitting defences, and defend against narcissistic wounding. The difference in types of narcissism is seen in the dominant defences employed, especially during narcissistic wounding.

The exhibitionistic narcissist is the subtype usually thought of when narcissism is discussed in popular media. The exhibitionistic narcissist feels special and superior (self-idealisation) over others and demands admiration for their superiority. Due to their sense of self-importance, they feel entitled to narcissistic supply through mirroring-responses by the Other (fused or one-minded relations). They can be charming and funny (to obtain admiration), but also manipulative and dishonest (because they deem themselves superior to rules), defiant towards authority and intolerant of disagreement and criticism. They often strive for fame, power and wealth. Failure to adequately mirror the exhibitionistic narcissist’s grandiosity leads to narcissistic injury, during which they view the Other as aggressive or deliberately withholding. Within such a state of mind, the exhibitionistic narcissist would respond with rage to humiliate, attack or destroy the non-mirroring Other, in order to restore a sense of grandiosity.

The closet narcissist is in constant defence against inadequacy, self-doubt and incompetence. They assume the omnipotence of the admired Other (idealisation and identification) from whom they obtain acceptance or approval as someone who is complete and perfect. They have an impaired ability to regulate self-esteem, and uniqueness or grandiosity of the self is not assumed; it is earned through fusion with an idealised Other in whose glory they bask. The idealised Other serves as a value-endowing proxy which the closet narcissist includes within their narcissistic extension of the self. By fulfilling the desires of the idealised Other dutifully and perfectly, the closet narcissist is endowed with a sense of adequacy, moral purity and accomplishment. If, however, the Other refuses or fails to supply such satisfaction, the closet narcissist will temporarily respond with self-righteous anger or withdrawal. In time, however, they restore fusion through self-flagellation, self-chastisement and recommitment to pleasing the Other. It would therefore be common to see self-denying conscientiousness, romanticised self-deprecation, self-inhibition and perfect obedience in their attempts to earn approval from the idealised Other, which, in turn makes them feel complete and powerful.

The most challenging and pathological type of narcissist is the devaluing narcissist. As the name suggests, these individuals are in a constant state of hostile self-protection and protective devaluation, dreading the state of fusion they find themselves in. These individuals tend to be insatiably demanding, resentful, cynical and ungrateful. Due to the hostile and aversive nature of their relationships with others, their relational history consists of short-lived and combative relationships, or longer-term relationships with individuals who would masochistically endure the acerbic orientation the devaluing narcissist assumes toward life. Because they constantly defend against attack, they resort to the most extreme form of Kleinian envy through verbal, and often physical aggression. While Erich Fromm did not describe the devaluing narcissist using such terminology, he did comment on a phenomenon akin to this personality type, namely malignant narcissism. And while he related this life orientation to the contemporary milieu of his time, the description reflects the devaluing and destructive characteristic of devaluing narcissism. He describes malignant narcissism as a necrophilic life position:

“Necrophilia constitutes a fundamental orientation; it is the one answer to life which is in complete opposition to life; it is the most morbid and the most dangerous among the orientations to life of which man is capable. It is the true perversion: while being alive, not life but death is loved; not growth but destruction. The necrophilous person, if he dares to be aware of what he feels, expresses the motto of his life [in attitudes, relationships and behaviour] when he says, ‘Long live death!’” (Fromm, p. 41).

Conclusion

Considering the identified defences of adherents and purveyors of the Critical Social Justice worldview, it can be concluded that narcissistic character traits are at the core of this ideology.

DiAngelo, R. (2018). White Fragility. Why it’s so hard for white people to talk about racism. Penguin Books.

Fromm, E. (1964). The Heart of Man, Its Genius for Good and Evil. Harper & Row.

Klein, M. (1957). Envy and Gratitude. Tavistock.

McWilliams, N. (2011). Psychoanalytic diagnosis: Understanding personality structure in the clinical process. (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.

Masterson, J.F., & Klein, R. (1995). Disorders of the Self: New Therapeutic Horizons: the Masterson Approach. Brunner/Mazel.

https://medium.com/my-unpopular-opinion/the-woke-narcissist-2d86c8e9a25e

FYI: this is a paid article.

Throughout history, extreme viewpoints on most ideological issues have occurred. These extremes often represent the most polarized or uncompromising positions on any given matter. While these extreme positions can be useful in highlighting the full spectrum of opinions, they can also be divisive and prevent constructive dialogue. In the grand scheme of things, this is unfortunately where we currently find ourselves.

Contemporary extremists suppress dissenting views, target media and academic institutions and promote cancel culture and censorship. Moreover, their emphasis on ideological purity contributes to neglecting important less polarizing issues like infrastructure, education, and healthcare. Adding fuel to the fire, this extreme posturing fuels cultural wars, where issues like race, gender, and religion are weaponized for political gain, igniting widespread societal conflict and the erosion of social cohesion.

Consequently, extremism on both sides has enabled the rise of populist leaders who capitalize on fear and division, resulting in governance that prioritizes loyalty and ideology over effective policy-making.

https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/2874692/to-understand-the-woke-you-have-to-understand-the-culture-of-narcissism/

FYI: this is also a paid article.

The nature of the Left in 2022 is rooted more in psychology than political science. Specifically, liberalism is suffering from narcissism.

To understand how, it’s essential to grasp the true meaning of narcissism. In its clinical definition, narcissism is not self-love — it’s the opposite. The narcissist isn’t full of ego. Rather, he has no real sense of self. Where the self would be is emptiness, which results in a mad effort to fill the psyche with meaning. Lacking a stable and confident sense of identity, the narcissist hunts for meaning in therapy, self-help, sex, or radical politics. None of these can give meaning to empty lives.

https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/restoring-america/fairness-justice/news-junkies-margaret-sullivans-memoir

In his seminal 1979 work The Culture of Narcissism, the brilliant social scientist Christopher Lasch argued that the human personality, its psychology itself, had changed over the course of the later 20th century.

https://nypost.com/2023/05/25/left-wing-extremism-linked-to-psychopathy-narcissism-study/

Left-wing extremism is linked to toxic, psychopathic tendencies and narcissism, according to a new study published to the peer-reviewed journal Current Psychology.

“Based on existing research, we expected individuals with higher levels of left-wing authoritarianism to also report higher levels of narcissism,” the authors wrote.

You can read more here -

https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&sca_esv=9852f52da4d4035c&hl=en-gb&biw=428&bih=745&q=woke+narcissism&source=lnms&fbs=AEQNm0DmfTgc7tU04ONiC4SZ2zg3EbKU0Gsmd2rgkfbVEgtmohrs70-DLxvepMcZE04DM3v2o7fM4U06IRs2CGXsKsK3W-wsyON-GXq9pljuL9rcO753WkITg3cpp4s3yjOevJ1RfmkAhNJNBf-wsmFZZZdSq02ldbawoHMDTeDlW2xLs9ZDWTpZrrCV5U78OwXmq3VQZPnIJxtvRWHiIKyVKRpDn-RNPJUZeMkjlpHYlvZw7ki__v8&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi9-7fJ88OKAxUJGVkFHYA2L8MQ0pQJegQIEBAB

Now this isn’t to say that being liberal is inherently a bad thing. Much to the contrary, in fact. The problem comes when you blindly believe what you are fed, and don’t actively educate and challenge yourself, as I mentioned above. The far left extremists are as bad as the far right in that they share the same mental health issues - especially narcissism. This isn’t EVERY liberal. However, the extenuating will often confuse liberal related issues for excuses to cover up their own weaknesses. It gives them something relatable to hook others in with. And as society, we need to stop feeding into that extremism - on either side. It’s not simply a tug of war between two teams of clowns in circus, it’s dangerous to those who don’t agree with their agendas. Society needs to stop enabling and praising their behaviour.

i see "men bad" jokes as very similar to suicide jokes. like making them every once in a while isn't the worst thing, but if you Keep making them constantly. it DOES shape how you start thinking and you WILL become a more unpleasant and bitter person and also make people around you uncomfortable. and sometimes you just gotta choose to not make or engage with certain jokes, even if they are amusing to you, because its just not who you wanna be

[nsheetee]

Physics Teacher!Doyoung x Art Teacher!Reader

Genre: High School Teacher AU, Enemies to Lovers AU || fluff, slightly crack-ish

Summary: Doyoung is ecstatic to start working at his first job in Neo City High School... until he runs into you, the eccentric new art teacher that quickly gets under his skin. When you and Doyoung are forced to chaperone the Valentine’s Day dance, you have to put all of your differences aside in the name of stopping high schoolers from grinding on each other and protecting the fruit punch from being spiked.

Word Count: 3k

a/n: happy birthday to the bunny prince! I hope your bday is filled with love, and cheers to the future! also, I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

doyoung loves school

always did: as a child, in high school, and in college

he honestly loved to learn and was studious, his parents always bragged about his grades and long high school resume filled from top to bottom with achievements and scholarships

but doyoung was glad to finally hold his college diploma in his hand, marking the end of his student days and signaling the beginning of his professional career

as a high school teacher

many of his friends warned him that teaching in a high school would be draining, that it would kill doyoung’s spirit within the first school year 

doyoung didn’t listen, his friends have never been teachers so what could they know?

he walked into his very own classroom on teacher prep day, a few days before the actual first day of school

he breathed in the musty smell of old carpet and the sharp tang of dry erase markers 

ah, yes, perfect

doyoung neatly arranged his desk; his favorite fountain pen had to be exactly 10cm from his computer keyboard and the computer monitor had to be facing up at a 19 degree angle so doyoung wouldn’t have a double chin while looking at the screen

yes, he did use his trusty ruler and protractor to measure it all out, and then neatly placed them into the top drawer of his desk 

doyoung has always been tidy, very articulate and precise

what else would you expect from a man who studied math and physics for five years?

just before leaving his room to meet with his boss, the principal, he’s startled by a knock on his door

you stand at the entrance to his classroom, a bright smile on your face and your hands clasped in front of you as you bounce on your toes

your outfit consists of a long, dark orange skirt that nearly touched the floor and teased the sandals that are strapped to your feet

you wore a bright yellow shirt with a short blue scarf wrapped around your neck, some wooden jewelry laying on the scarf and also dangling from your ears

doyoung is sure his mouth is open in disbelief but he can’t seem to regain enough control over his face to hide his surprised and mortified expression

“hi! you’re kim doyoung, right? the new physics teacher? I’m Y/N.” your voice is chipper and bright

“are you in the correct place, ma’am? this is neo city high school.” doyoung asks 

you tilt your head slightly, wondering why he’s asking such a question

“oh!” you exclaim, moving your wooden necklace and blue scarf out of the way to show doyoung your teacher badge, “I’m a new teacher this year, just like you! I thought I would come say hi.” 

doyoung is sure his mouth is, once again, slacked open 

looking down at himself, he sees a very big contrast in what you look like and what he looks like

doyoung wears a crisp white shirt that’s buttoned all the way up, a blue tie around his collar and his own teacher badge perfectly centered in the middle of his chest

he ironed his slacks this morning and even shined his shoes

is this not the dress code for teachers at NCHS?

he’s sure he read the dress code section of the teacher’s manual, stating that professional attire is required

but as he watches you dance into his classroom from his desk chair, skirt swinging around your legs, curious eyes glancing all over his room... he’s not sure what to do

should he tell his superiors?

he doesn’t get to think much before you sigh and close your eyes, holding out your arms on either side of you as if you can feel some nonexistent wind pass by you

“wow, you have such a nice classroom. the windows and the view, I wish my classroom was open like this.”

“may I ask... what class you teach?”

“art” 

doyoung immediately does not like you

maybe he’s a bit biased (okay, very biased) but he has never liked art

the atmosphere of an art class is not his cup of tea

why are there no written rules for art?

why was he always instructed to “paint with your heart and soul, not your brain”?

why did his high school art teacher scold him for drawing the golden ratio for every single assignment if there are no rules!?

it’s the only C doyoung ever received and, yes, he’s still salty about it

“oh. my. goodness.” doyoung is pulled out of his path down memory lane by your exclamation 

you stride over to his desk, finding a seat next to his computer and accidentally moving it with your hip

doyoung gasps when his perfect 19 degree angle is ruined, and his hands come up to grip the hair at the back of his head when you pick up his favorite fountain pen, turning it over in your fingers

“uh...” doyoung trails off, not sure how to politely tell you to get away from his stuff

“I love this pen!” you exclaim, “this is a Monteverde, isn’t it? wow, I never expected anyone else to appreciate good quality pens, especially not physics teachers.” 

your comment flies over doyoung’s head, he can only focus on how you keep annoyingly clicking the pen and randomly drawing on his clean sticky notes that he placed exactly 17cm from the edge of his desk

in what feels like only seconds to doyoung, you draw an intricate lily on a sticky note and stick it to his computer monitor 

haphazardly dropping the pen back onto his desk, you hop off and wave at your fellow co-worker as you walk out of the room

doyoung can only stare at the mess you left behind; you were only in his classroom for a total of three minutes and yet, it looks like a litter of puppies were let loose 

doyoung’s distaste for you didn’t end there

once school started, he could see the increasing amount of students that absolutely loved you and your art classes

he heard about how you walk around in flip flops and sandals, even when the temperature started to drop outside

he heard about your habit of humming jazz while painting, tapping your foot and bobbing your head along to your own music

he over heard students talking about how you’ve never once worn the same set of jewelry, and betting on how many different sets you actually have

doyoung isn’t sure why he’s so intrigued by you; you have absolutely nothing in common and doyoung doesn’t understand your eccentric way of living

but the universe keeps pulling you to each other

for example, how you both come to school at the same time, punching in for work on the same minute, awkwardly giving your “good morning’s” to each other before you go to your respective classrooms

or how you both have your break during 3rd period, and go to the teacher’s work room in the office to grab a cup of coffee and whatever delicious pastries the office ladies brought in that day

even when you both run the after school clubs (doyoung helps run the robotics club, you help run the art club) you’d somehow bump into each other despite the club rooms being on opposite sides of the school

other than the first day you met, doyoung has no reason to be angry with you

but he is, for some reason he can’t get you off of his mind, and it’s infuriating

maybe doyoung is infuriated because you don’t seem to be affected by his presence in the same way that he’s affected by yours

he always pushes that thought out of his mind, but today, when you’re both called to the home economics room, it’s more apparent than usual

you’re already talking to mr. lee when doyoung walks in, your smiling face and comfortable posture with your co-worker makes that fire in his stomach ignite, and he just wants this to be over with as quickly as possible

“ah, doyoung you’re here, great! I have a favor to ask both of you” mr. lee, or ten as you both know him, rests his elbows on the desk and clasps his hands in front of him, “I need you two to chaperone the valentine’s day dance tonight”

“there’s a valentine’s day dance tonight?” doyoung asks and ten sends him a deadpanned look

“yes? it’s been on the morning announcements everyday this week”

doyoung crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks away, a bit embarrassed that he’s been caught not listening to the mandatory morning announcements

(doyoung always wears crisp dress shirts to work, and you about die when his arms bulge through the shirt with his actions, his chest seeming to stretch wider than the ocean and shoulders looking as solid as a rock)

(maybe you gulp a bit, and maybe you try not to pant at the sight, also)

“didn’t you tell me that you and principal moon usually chaperone the valentine’s day dance?” you ask, moving your attention away from doyoung’s chest and turning to ten

“yes, we do, but this year mr. moon’s wife surprised him with a dinner date and he says he can’t let her down”

“and why can’t you chaperone?”

“my cat went into labor”

you and doyoung look at ten with dead stares, trying to comprehend ten’s words

ten scoffs and rolls his eyes, slamming his palm down onto his desk

“well? is no one going to congratulate me? I’m going to be a grandpa by the end of tonight!”

“congrats...” you mumble out, “but I’m sorry, I can’t chaperone tonight.” you try to quickly think up of a valid excuse as to why, but nothing of value comes to mind

“yeah, neither can I” doyoung speaks up, turning around to walk out of the room

“wait” ten speaks up, making doyoung turn back to face both of you, “if I remember correctly, I covered for both of you when you couldn’t show up to the bi-yearly meeting last month. you both owe me, and this is how you’ll repay.”

you and doyoung visibly sulk in your spots

it’s true, ten did cover for you when you couldn’t go to that important meeting, and by the look on doyoung’s face, it looks like ten has him trapped, too

so that’s how you and doyoung end up at the gym after school, watching the student council committee set up all the decorations and the dj set up his equipment on stage

the theme is “love under the sea” 

doyoung cringes when he saw the banner reveal over the front of the gym, and you can’t help but wince at the overused theme

the decorations are lovely, though; different shades of blue lights glow from the the ceiling and cast a blue hue to everyone below, the stage is covered in blue tinsel and large balloon figures of seashells, crabs, and mermaids

even the drink and snack tables have underwater themed cookies and chips, with large bowls of blue fruit punch centered on every table

so far, chaperoning is easy; you and doyoung have to make sure no one gets hurt and that there’s enough helium for the hundreds of balloons that were blown up and are currently rolling around on the floor

but then, students start to arrive

ten assured you and doyoung earlier that no more than 100 students would show up the whole night; groups of people would come in and out for the three hours that the dance would be going on

but of course, tonight is the night that everyone decides to come to the dance

although the student council is having the time of their lives with the amount of money they’re receiving in ticket profits, yours and doyoung’s eyes bulge at how over 100 hundred students are already waiting in line to enter the gym

“wait, wait” you run towards a group of girls who just paid for their tickets, “you have to take your shoes off before going in”

“why?” they give you an almost disgusted look, and you entertain the fact that you have to look up at them to look them in the eyes

“your heels could scrap the gym floor, please take them off” you look down at the girls’ shoes, confused on how they can balance on such tiny leverages 

“but, it’s part of my outfit” you give the girls one long, hard, blank stare until they roll their eyes and step out of the heels, immediately shortening themselves by four inches and walking away

doyoung’s night also doesn’t start out smoothly....

he walks into the boy’s bathroom, hoping to relieve himself before the dance actually got underway, but instead is frightened by a pair of students playing tonsil hockey against the urinals 

“mr. kim!” they shout and doyoung covers his eyes and turns away, for some reason feeling like he’s in the wrong even though the public restroom is not supposed to be used for making out

“the dance started 10 minutes ago and you’re already doing that!” doyoung shouts and the students apologize, heads bowed as they scurry out the door

about an hour into the dance, you and doyoung finally find each other through the chaos of the school gym

“either ten lied to us or today is just an anomaly; there has to be at least 300 students here right now” doyoung tries to speak over the music, but you still have to lean in to hear him

“we need to call other teachers to come help, it can’t just be the two of us here.” you reply, but doyoung barely pays attention

you face is leaning into his, but your sporadic eyes and looking somewhere else 

the blue hues of the lights shine off of your cheekbones and permeate through your hair

doyoung thinks you look good in blue, and he could keep looking at you for a while longer

until something behind you catches his eye

“oh, no...” doyoung trails off, and you look turn around

in the middle of the dance floor, right in front of the dj’s speakers, a swarm of students gather around and you can faintly see through the dim lights of the gym that a grind circle ensues

“oh, no...” you mimic doyoung as the group of students “dance” to the music, almost gyrating and squirming against their partners

it’s almost too painful and awkward to watch

doyoung makes the first move to separate the circle, trying to push his way through, the swarm of students stick together like a group of flamingos; they’re so congested that it would be easier to move through a vat of molasses

the teens stick to each other in their dance moves and you feel sorry for doyoung who tries to yell “no hands on knees. I said DO NOT PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR KNEES” at the crowd, the music swallowing him up

as you watch on, your eyes latch onto a group of guys who surround one of the drink and snack tables

you would’ve overlooked them, but the way they’re suspiciously eyeing their surroundings makes you curious

you walk closer, only to see one of the guys carrying a shiny flask, holding it upside down over a punch bowl

“woah, woah, woah, what do you think you’re doing?” you call out as you march closer, frightening the group of students 

“nothing, we’re just getting a drink.” maybe if you didn’t see them pour alcohol into the punch bowl earlier, you would be fooled by their lies, but you give them a disappointed look

“really? that’s why you have a flask on you?” you ask the student with the alcohol, and all of their eyes widen into dinner plates

the night only erupts into more chaos after that

you and doyoung never have enough time to stop and call ten or any other teacher to come help you, too busy dealing with teenage antics

at one point in the night, “under the sea” plays, and you and doyoung are pulled into a conga line of students as they travel around the gym, and someone from the yearbook committee snaps a picture on a polaroid camera

as the night comes to a close, students leave to go home and the gym floor becomes visible once again

you sit against the wall, holding the polaroid in your hand and silently smiling at yours and doyoung’s surprised expressions, his hands on your shoulders and a bad, red flash in both of your eyes, only adding to the candidness of the whole scene

doyoung slides down next to you and hands you a cup of the spiked punch, which you had moved to a different room after you reprimanded the boys who spiked it

“for me?” you ask as you accept the cup

“yeah, I think we both deserve it for dealing with tonight” you and doyoung do a silent cheers and hit your plastic cups together before downing all the punch

“wow,” you cough a bit, placing a hand over your mouth “high schoolers don’t play around, huh” you look at the cup, wondering exactly how much alcohol was in it before setting it down on the floor, deciding not to think to much about it

the dj was hired from 7pm to 10pm, and although doyoung’s watch says it’s 9:57pm, the dj still plays songs even though only you and doyoung are here to listen to them

“this is for the chaperones tonight,” the dj suddenly speaks into his microphone, “you guys did a good job.” 

a slow song starts to play, you and doyoung don’t recognize it, but doyoung laughs awkwardly at how you’re both put on the spot, even if there’s no one here to witness it

“well, let’s dance, doie.” you stand up and hold out your hand to him

maybe it’s the energy and confidence from the alcohol, or maybe this is something doyoung has always wanted to do, but he takes your hand and guides you to the dance floor

your hands rest on his shoulders and you try not to feel giddy at the thought of finally getting to feel them after looking on from the distance for so long

you blush at your own thoughts, or maybe because of doyoung’s hands traveling around your hips and pulling you closer to him

for a minute, you and doyoung just sway a bit

the music is nice and the blue hue from the lights makes doyoung’s eyes and skin shine, you can’t pull yourself away from him

“you know, I’ve actually never been to a school dance before.” you don’t know what possesses you to say it out loud, but doyoung’s eyes widen at your words

“me, too.” 

at that moment, doyoung realizes that maybe you two do have something in common

and as you lean your head against his collarbone, humming the already familiar melody of your first song of your first school dance ever

doyoung knows he doesn’t mind getting to know the parts of you that aren’t that similar to him

it’ll be worth it

[distinguishedcolordelusion]

A Study In Stargate

*This one is a bit of a doozy so bare with me a bit.

All notations and theories presented are just theories(not necessarily facts) regarding what is known and what can be inferred from cannon and ambiguously cannon(the novels and RPGs) sources.

For the purposes of this study if an ambiguously cannon source directly contradicts cannon it is disregarded as being relevant to the main universe and should be regarded as occurring within an alternate reality.

~On with the study~

.

.

[What is a Stargate]

The Stargates are constructed of a tempered naquadah composite that is virtually indestructible through practical means.(impractical means would include destructive power such as destroying a planet or dropping the gate itself into a star)  Though this is only in the case of second and third generation designed gates as the proto-gates constructed and dropped by gate-seeder ships are seemingly a great deal more fragile and less powerful.

[The Begining]

The Stargates and their network were designed by The Ancients(Altara/Altarans) and originally conceptualized by the Altaran Amelius – the night before they left their original home galaxy(The galaxy occupied by the Ori).

Note: Given the presence of a Stargate on Celestius it seems that either there were plans for the creation left behind when the Altarans left or perhaps more likely the Ori reverse engineered them for themselves after finding one during their hunt for the Altarans.

Though it would seem that the first actual gate(Permanent non proto-gate) built may have been the gate on the world Dakara as the location of the first Altara settlement in the Milky Way/Avalon Galaxy.

Note: This would make the Dakaran gate the oldest gate in the Milky Way having predated even Earth’s 50 million year old Antarctic gate

After the settlement of Dakara and the expansion into the Milky Way/Avalon, the Altara built a series of ships to explore new galaxies and lay the framework for more gates as they went. One of such ships was Destiny, the survey ship that follows in a 2000 year wake of the seeder ships.

Note: there were at least three seeding type ships ahead of Destiny. Potentially one to catalog planets and resources(Such as naquadah and other proto-gate building materials), one to lay the glyph point network, and one to seed the gates. Leaving Destiny to be the one to autonomously initiate the gate networks.

Note 2: It would have been during that same time period that the facility known to the Tau'ri as 'Icurus Base' would have been built to facilitate the necessary eventual contact with Destiny.

Note 3: It would be 10 million years between the launch of Destiny and the founding of the Alliance of the Four Great Races(est. 40 mil prior to start of series), implying that perhaps Destiny and her sister ships were instramental in the first contact between the Altarans and the other three races.

[How does it work?]

Within the Stargate network a Stargate uses six unique glyphs to find an address in the local galaxy network(with an additional glyph to dial another galaxy) and a final glyph as a Point of Origin.  Each glyph represents a physical point in space within the local galaxy. The Point of Origin Glyph would hold the saved location data (the six glyph points that make up its own unique location) of the planet being dialed from.

Note: Given that planets and planetoids that are likely to have Stargates on or around them move a great deal(tending to be in habitable zones of their stars with much more rapid orbital period), the orientation of indicated by a gate address is likely referring to the surrounding solar system rather than an individual planet.

The implications of this would mean that multiple planets in a solar system would share the same gate address even if there were gates on multiple planets of the same solar system.

This being said a newly added gate can not dial out until it has connected with the already established DHD(which has a limited range – seemingly high orbit at most) or receives an incoming wormhole.

Meaning that in practice every world in that theoretical system would have to be a complete pair(Gate and DHD) on its own or an orbital path that brings them within range of the counterpart mechanism. Though they could create a very interesting Antarctica type scenario of being close but so much farther than they think.

On the gates themselves there are either 39(Milky Way/Avalon gates) or 36(Pegasus and Proto-gate networks) glyphs. From this we can surmise that after subtracting the unique Point of Origin Glyph from the count a gate network needs to have at least 35 points to properly work.

Note: Though Pegasus gates only have 35 spacial points and a Point of Origin Glyph,  Proto-gates seem to have 36 spacial glyphs being able to use any glyph as a substitute Point of Origin(kinda like pressing 'ENTER' rather than the typical journey path.)

With all Proto-gates behaving in the same way and being known predisesors to the second and third generation gates the implication is that perhaps all systems have a minimum of 36 spacial glyphs and for whatever reason the Pegasus system only uses 35 of them.

If a gate network only needs those 36 points to function that implies something special about the fact that the milky way gates have 38.

It uses these glyphs to connect with another gate found at that point in space and establishes a captive stable wormhole between them. Each gate in the pair takes on a specific role: the dialing gate converts the traveler into its most basic components (sub-atomic particles) and transmits it, while the receiving gate reassembles the transmitted matter back into its original form.

[Gate Sounds]

Each glyph on the gate has a corresponding sound attached to it so that a gate address may be spoken aloud.

Note: Though the glyphs can be used as a mathematical conversion and numbering system for the gate network itself, the sounds associated with the glyphs are not actually numbers but rather a mnemonic device.(Think variables. Like pi = π =3.1459..., the sound has a value attached to it but the sound itself is not a number)

While the Milky Way/Avalon gates have a mnemonic device attached to them most spoken addresses are unwieldy and unpronounceable. Shorthand for the naming of planets based on their gate address seems to be reading whatever the glyphs are on the center ring of a DHD counter clockwise from 6:00 position

Original Shorthands would have been (Dakara) Ravacla Fin De'shi- Declara, (Earth) Vabo'Othe Ze'ka-Theva

Note: Theva (Latin pronounces 'Th' as a sharp T and hard H separately rather than 'th'. Making it sound like T-hev-Ah.)would have morphed into Terra which would morph into Taura in Goa'uld thus creating the word Tau'ri- from Taura, which would change in definition over time to simply refer to all humans and colloquially defining how goa'uld view humans i.e. beasts of burden/vessels.

Note 2: Obviously this naming technique is not always accurate due to planets being renamed whether by their inhabitants,  by their conquerors, or words simply morphing over time. Not surprising since many of those names would be some 50 million years old and for the better part of three million years would only have been passed along verbally if passed down at all.

It would also theoretically allow for more than one planet to have the same shorthand

It is unknown if Pegasus gates ever had a similar mnemonic device attached to their glyphs or not. The only ones who would likely still know would be the wraith who as a primarily telepathic/nonverbal species would have no need for such a thing

Note: Most wraith only communicate with their fellow wraith through telepathy, as such verbal communication may actually be uncomfortable for them being physically unused to the task.

***Headcanon: The reason Todd talks so much is due to his imprisonment and functional solitary confinement with the Genii. Being unable to hear any other wraith he talks out loud to be able to hear something.

[Implications Part 1]

That being said it has been shown that third generation gate technology accessories – such as puddle jumpers – are capable of using second generation gates even though they are not constructed for use in the same local system. The implication here is that the gate system or perhaps the puddle jumper's onboard dialing computer is doing conversion math based on the numerical positioning of they glyphs on the gate itself.

Note: The inner track of Milky Way/Avalon gates spins clockwise and their default position is at rest over the Point of Origin Glyph(mostly because that’s always the last glyph dialed anyway) going by that logic the conversion from milky way to pegasus glyphs would be 1:1 going clockwise around the gate until reaching the end of the corresponding numbered glyphs.

However this means that puddle jumpers would be incredibly limited in their access on the Milky Way/Avalon network however due to the fact that their systems only have glyphs up to 36(including Point of Origin)

***Headcanon: While Atlantis is Earthbound the Tau’ri crews put number stickers on the puddle jumper dialer to remember what symbol goes where. (They’d make Sheppard annoyed and he’d spend a Sunday peeling them off.)

Given that an address has to be dialed in the proper order for it to connect to its assigned planet, each place in a gate address represents an actual spatial orientation.( for example: up, down, left, right, front, back) Using six addresses that share a the same glyph with each address using it in a different place we could find the physical location in space of that glyph and determine the orientation pattern of a gate address allowing the the ability to know where all the glyph points are in space.

Note: I feel like there would be an actual buoy(a buoy may be the most accurate term here as traditionally buoys are used for navigation as a location marker whether visual or digital relay), satellite, or star located at each of the glyph points allowing for the DHD to track the points and compensate for stellar drift. Something physically present though perhaps out of phase

Note 2: With the nature of the gate network’s automatic updates it feels like there should be a sort of equivalent to a hard drive somewhere in the galaxy that records the buoys location and that is what the DHDs(and potentially Destiny) calculate from rather than compensating for nearly forty unique points in space drifting for thousands of years every time it dials.

Buoys would ping to the network harddrive. And the network harddrive would ping to an active DHD.

Given that the Point of Origin Glyph is actually a shorthand of the dialing gate's own spacial address this means that a gate can't dial out unless it 'knows' where it is, thus an incoming wormhole to establish its connection with its DHD(hence teaching its DHD where it is relative to the glyph-points) or a pre-established gate system is needed.

Note:This would give reason to why the gate aboard Apophis's ship could not be used to escape even after they dropped out of hyperspace even though there was a DHD present

With this in mind and conceiving of the fact that the gate system is capable of dialing every gate simultaneously. It is implied that there was a single point that dialed all other gates to 'set' their Point of Origin Glyphs.

The problem with this situation is that for a single point to commit a mass dial the system would have to already have a known location point. At the beginning of the gate system the only established location points would be the glyph-points themselves. As all the glyph-points are counted as stationary values being calculated none of them could have been the origin of the first dialing. This means that the first system dial would have had to have been done by a known value that was not part of the calculating values.

In a proto-gate network all glyphs on the gate are used as locational markers with Destiny acting as a real time drift calculator and DHD. The implication of this means that all 36 symbols on the gate have a corresponding physically located glyph-points.

The only glyph on a Stargate that is not part of spacial calculations in second and third generation gates is the Point of Origin glyph.

The implications of this are that the Point of Origin glyph-point has both a physical location within the local gate network and a means in which to dial out – making it the location that would have been responsible for the original mass dial that established the gate network in the first place. Once the mass dial was done the DHDs would save  their own locations to the Point of Origin glyph and the glyph-point's actual location would be lost.

For the Point of Origin glyph-point to be the origin of the first system dialing it would have to have a archive of all the other glyph-points and the original gate addresses placed.

Note: This is what makes the most sense as Destiny has the ability to recall addresses to worlds  in a galaxy that is new to it(as its journey is one that moves ever forward rather than crossing paths it has already been to). Meaning that its getting its information from somewhere.

And with its sister-ships being two thousand years of travel time ahead of it they are doubtfully within reach for quick information access.

It would have to act as a sort of mainframe for maintaining the entire local galaxy's gate network. This location would have to hold all the data of the gate network including a full and complete atlas of gate-baring worlds within the local system and a sort of hard drive that would maintain precise spacial coordinates of every glyph-point, which it would relay to the DHDs as periodic network updates.

*from here one the Point of Origin glyph-point will be referred to as the Archive Point

(A/N:...this sounds a little too eerie ...did Ba'al find the gate network harddrive?)

Note: The idea of Ba’al having found such a system or device as the core of the Milky Way gate network isnt too terribly far fetched as Dakara was held deep within his own territory for much of his reign.

[Implications Part 2]

Mathematically calculations start with 0 instead of 1(this was made a big deal in series by Carter). Zero is the starting point and the collective idea of 'where you are now/begin' thus in and of itself it is its own set of coordinates. It would be no different within the complex calculations of the Stargate system. For all intents and purposes 'AT' – the Point of Origin glyph and the first glyph on the gate –  would represent Glyph Zero in the gate's calculations between worlds and galaxies.

On most worlds the DHD is missing a glyph(not the Point of Origin). This missing glyph is not always the same one, indicating that certain points can not be safely called upon from certain areas of the galaxy.

Note: This means that Earth's use of a dialing computer over a DHD is yet again capable of circumventing safety protocols built into the gate network by its creators (~Sigh~ Damn Tau’ri).

If one knew the physical locations of the missing glyph-points they could map out the space between the worlds with missing glyphs and their corresponding glyph-points. With enough of these missing glyph worlds mapped there would be an intersection that would indicate where something was being avoided.

The gate network is millions of years old and seems to disregard most spacial anomalies that may occur within a travel path. This leaves the question of what would be enough of a hazard that the gate system would not allow a traveler to pass through?

It has been shown that large scale disturbances such as black holes and other cosmic events can affect gate travel meaning while it isn't a visible stream going from one place to another it is a physical presence capable of being interacted with to some extent(similar to being out of phase was portrayed).

It has been implied that Ring technology and Stargate technology function on similar principals with magnitude and distance being the defining differences between them. With this in mind that would lend the idea that there is an object between the missing glyph worlds and the worlds with addresses baring those glyphs that would either prevent travel or cause damage if traveled through.

Operating under the idea that Stargates and Rings function similarly then theoretically an un-designated Stargate (one without a DHD to give it an address) could 'catch' an incoming wormhole if it was positioned exactly between those points.

With that in mind it is possible that the disconnected space could be the location of the Archive Point. A Stargate that has no address within the system. As the Archive Point would be subject to automatic mass dialings to update and maintain the entire gate network trying to gate elsewhere from there would have the possibility of ending very badly(solid matter being transported through multiple wormholes doesn’t sound good) Thus having the possibility of even crossing over it by accident would be problematic.

(A/N) Now I need me a SG1 grade goof up scenario where the team accidentally finds the most important piece of the entire gate system by sheer dumb luck and the broken safety protocols of using an Earth made supercomputer in place of a DHD.

[Going Further than Before]

Within the gate network the commonly used seven glyph address reaches planets within the same galaxy.

With the addition of an eighth glyph the gate becomes capable of reaching worlds in other galaxies. Though achieving an eight glyph lock requires a specialized control crystal within the outbound gate's DHD (or just using the SGC's dialing computer). The seventh non-origin glyph in an eight symbol address is not a locational marker as with a standard address but rather a network extension.

The glyph in question would be defined by numerical value assigned to local networks seeded by Destiny and its sister ships as they were reached over the course of their journey. This would explain why a jury-rigged power generator was enough to reach Othala in the Ida Galaxy(Seventh glyph is #9) while a ZPM was required to reach Lantea in the Pegasus Galaxy(seventh glyph #20).

Note: Something odd to note on this matter is that the Milky Way/Avalon galaxy has a seventh glyph of 3. Implying that it was not in fact the first galaxy the Altara tried to settle and plant gates in.

With the Milky Way gates having 39 glyphs and Pegasus and Proto-Gate networks having 36 glyphs the network would have a design flaw of only being able to go as far as 39 galaxies out from the Milkey way and even fewer from Pegasus and the Proto networks. This would indicate why they instituted the 9 symbol address lock to gate to Destiny directly. Past a certain point it would have been impossible for them to reach the ship otherwise. And yet the logs aboard Destiny indicate that that Destiny and the gate-seeder ships have seeded more than sixty galaxies with Stargates.

Under very specific conditions(thus far only shown to exist on two known planets) a nine symbol address can be entered and this causes a complex series of equations to be pinged within the Stargate network to pinpoint the gate aboard Destiny.

As it is known that the Altara always played the long game with everything they did it wouldn't make sense for them to even passively go through the effort of seeding so many galaxies without having the ability to reach them. Something that, even with the ability to dial Destiny, would eventually be lost to them without alternative methods.

This implies that the network itself has the means to connect to those additional galaxies. With the maximum possible number of galaxies to be contacted it would have intended to use the 38th galaxy as a buffer point to reach any further galaxies.

This would also explain why the Milky Way/Avalon gates are different than Pegasus/Destiny gates as the Milky Way/Avalon gate system is both a local and intergalactic network hub. The 38th galaxy would be a second gate network hub.

Note: Given that the Milky Way/Avalon network seems to be both a hub network and not the first in its sequence it is unknown if the other two local networks prior to it would have been attempted to be hub networks as well or are simpler local networks like those of Pegasus

Potentially, given that they would predate Destiny's launch, they would be second generation styled gates like those in the Milky Way/Avalon Galaxy(Dakara being the oldest known gate in existence is still of the far sturdier second generation style gate design) but only having the 36 glyphs of a Pegasus and Proto-gate system.(making them reachable within the system but not really part of the fully fleshed plan to the grand scope of the gate network as a whole)

Likely the gate networks of those galaxies themselves would have been much smaller especially if the reason for them being left behind was the Altarans trying to put more distance between them and the Ori. There might have only been a handful of gates in the networks at all, only connecting to Altaran occupied worlds or worlds with resources vital to them.

Note 2: With the possibility of either a reverse engineered stand-alone network or a stolen concept network existing in the Ori home galaxy and without the set up of Destiny and her sister-ships or even the gate network as a whole the Ori galaxy should have been cut off. For it to be used to connect to the main established network of Stargates would require negative calculations within the gate system itself.

Following this logic any further galaxies in the second network hub would use glyph 1 for the 38th galaxy while the 38th galaxy would use a double Point of Origin address(where both the 7th and 8th glyphs are the Point of Origin – The mathematical Glyph 0 –  to reach the hub galaxy previous to it.

This would create a bridge along hub networks with each one down the line dialing a double Point of Origin address to reach the one prior to it while the one prior would simply dial its 38th galaxy glyph. Hub network points would fall in galaxies 3(Milky Way/Avalon because...reasons?), 38, 76, 114,  and so on. This bridge type system would allow them to circumvent the ever increasing power requirements of further travel as well as ultimately removing a projected limit to the number of gate systems.

***Headcannon: What happens to reach Destiny so many galaxies away is the Archive Point(the hard drive of the gate network) initiates a gate buffer bridge(like the Carter-McKay Gate Bridge only much much bigger) to conserve as much energy as it can to send travelers directly to Destiny.

However each link in the bridge is an intergalactic dial along hub galaxies and requires a guaranteed massive amount of power to begin with, thus reaching Destiny requires exorbitant amounts of energy.

Icarus-Class planets have unique high energy naquadria cores allowing for large amounts of power on demand(making the entire planet's core functionally one big naquadah generator). For that reason they are the only worlds that receive gates with DHDs capable of running the nine chevron program code regardless of the presence of all nine chevrons on all gates. And thus the only gates that would be used in the Destiny Bridge buffer dial would be on Icarus-Class planets.

This also entails that one of Destiny's sister-ships must scan the entirety of a hub galaxy to find an Icarus-Class planet to settle a prime gate on to continue on its chain. Unfortunately this means that if a Hub-galaxy loses its Icarus-Class planet then any connection to Destiny will be lost with it.

[jaffre]

agmāri genders are divided into 3: lean, jov, and elzen, each based on one of the three gods of their Triad. genders are assigned at birth depending on the date (each day is under the influence of one god). these genders have a lot of social repercussion (a lot of associated daily rituals), and each have different values associated to them (which are all derived from their associated deity) 

lean are kind people, thriving for justice and never giving up. often seen as doctors and law keepers

jov are wise people, upholding their responsibility, able to spread harmony around them. often seen as scholars and administrators

elzen are passionate people, loyal to their friends and family, fueled by righteous anger. often seen as craftsmen and artists

gender markers are rather simple, each being associated with a color and a shape. it is traditional to wear collar strings of one’s gendered color, and they tend to wear accessories that incorporate said color or shape as well. another strong gender marker is the ring that every agmāri receive when they reach adulthood (and that most of them wear) who bears their initials and is in the shape of their gender

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

This is war (Frat!E/Soulmate AU)

Summary: When you’re born you have your soulmate’s name on one wrist, and your enemy’s on the other. Usually, people never know which is which, but for Y/N it’s rather clear as Ethan Dolan is written on both her wrists 

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst

Word count: 6.7 k

A/N - not gonna lie, this was much better in my head, but I’m too tired to reread and edit anymore and I decided to publish before I delete the whole thing.

People say love works in mysterious ways and the soulmate connections we've been given at birth are a gift, not a curse. Well, try saying that to someone who has certifiably been fucked over in that department.

Once you're born, every human has two names tattooed on their wrist – one name is meant to tell you who your soulmate is, the other name who is your enemy. Most people wonder which is which, hoping they don't make a mistake in their quest for love, but Y/N never had that issue. You see, ever since she was old enough to understand the soulmate connection and words inked on her skin, she knew there would be no confusion.

Why, you might wonder?

Well, both her wrists were inked the same – ETHAN GRANT DOLAN.

She didn't truly understand how that would work, going through her teen years with a chip on her shoulder as she watched all her friends find love and have no doubts about it while she tried to hide the name tainted on her skin and her soul.

Until she met him.

Y/N had escaped the Greek system on campus quite successfully in her freshman year, despite being a legacy for Kappa Kappa Gamma, but after a small incident in her dorm including matches, a blow-drier and drapes – which she refuses to talk about, she was in need of home close to campus with low rent costs. So, yes, she was forced to play nice with the sorority, moving into their house and that included attending parties...just like that fateful night.

Music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beach sand, the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter, but always it speaks to them in some manner. A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, or move them to dance, whilst a slow one can relax the mood. Before the notes filled the air every person was an island, with it they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginnings of togetherness feels warm.

Everyone was having a good time, most of them drunk off their mind, others well on their way to it. Almost all, but Y/N, who had leaned her back against the wall, her right leg bent at the knee, the sole pressed against the wall as well. She played with the water inside her red cup, watching the people with contempt. She barely escaped alcohol and peer pressure, the party far from her style. If it were up to her, she’d be in her room, tucked into bed, reading up for next week’s assignments, a cup of tea on the nightstand.

But, no. She just had to attend, as her sisters insisted and now she was bored, annoyed and very much disgusted with everyone dry humping each other on the dance floor…and well, everywhere else, making bad decisions that will haunt them sooner or later.

Then she caught someone’s eye. And she noticed immediately, feeling the heaviness of his curious gaze.

The music drowned out as her mind focused solely on him, even the guy he was talking to beforehand had faded from her sight. He was all she could see. The only clear imagine in the blur everything had become.

He sat on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, his knees about ten inches apart. His right elbow casually rested on his right knee, a beer bottle in hand. He leaned back, pursing his lips as his left eyebrow raised in challenge, as if he’s daring her to move.

Y/N could tell he’s handsome – hell, handsome would be an insult for how good looking he truly is. It’s as Taylor Swift always said – hot and handsome as well, bad and he does it so well. She could tell it was true for this particular frat just by looking at him, but that’s not why her heart started beating out of her chest. That’s not why she felt trouble begin. The trouble began because she couldn’t look away. And apparently, neither could he.

Which is why it both terrified and excited her when he placed the beer bottle on the stairs, sitting up right after. He dusted his pants quickly, putting a formed fist before his mouth as if he was clearing his voice only to look back to where she stood, a smirk forming on his lips when he noticed she was staring back at him, standing still – awaiting for him to make a move first.

Sauntering toward her, he had picked two bears up on his way, stopping in front of her with a cocky grin.

“Want a drink? It’s on me.” He didn’t really ask. He wasn’t the type. Instead, he had already taken the cup from her hand – tossing it over his shoulder carelessly, pushing the bear in its stead, leaning his right shoulder on the wall beside her, his hand remaining on hers for a moment longer than necessary.

She raised an eyebrow, wondering if she should throw the beer in his face or keep it in her hand until her brain could work again, but she found herself enamored with the way he looked at her – like she held the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask.

And now, finally up close, she could see him perfectly.

He was handsome from the depth of his deep brown eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice.  She couldn’t pinpoint a single feature that makes him so handsome, though his eyes come close. People often speak of the color of eyes, as if that were of importance, yet his would be beautiful in any shade. It’s what hides behind them, deep inside. From them comes an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but a good soul. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within; it makes her want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of her body.

And those hands, the warm big hands he had placed upon hers; they were inviting and enticing.

“On you? Silly me, I thought this was an open bar kind of a thing.” She snarked, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly as his lips parted, a chuckle escaping him.

“Oh, kitty has some claws, huh?” He inched closer, unable to hide his smile as it lit up his features, his hair a mess of small waves on top of his head he moves forth as he had to lean down to reach her ear and whisper. She held her breath in anticipation.

“If you ever need someone to teach you how to use them properly, let me know.” Winking, he took a step back, taking a big chug of his bear before sending her an air kiss. Outraged by his preposition, she hoped he’d be leaving, but instead, he outstretched his arm, offering his hand for her to take.

“I rarely get down and dirty with the newbies, but I’d make an exception for you.”

Annoyed and quite frankly insulted by his words, she hadn’t even considered taking him up on the offer. He’s as handsome as he is arrogant and she deemed him irreparable.

She focused on the hand as if it’s a murder weapon, the palm open toward her, his long finger slightly apart, showing off a ring on his index finger. But that’s not what she looks at as her eyes move just a few inches up and toward his wrist - a subconscious choice really, but she couldn’t help herself.

Gripping his hand, she pulled him closer by force, stepping right next to him to see properly for she was convinced she saw something that’s impossible. However, on closer inspection, and after she had taken his other wrist in her hand as well, her gaping mouth didn’t stop a confused groan from leaving her lips for right then and there, written in black ink on both his wrists stood her name.

“You’re Ethan fucking Dolan.” She accused, looking back at him with a shocked expression slapped on her face and had he not been so caught off guard, he’d mock her for it.

“How do you know?” He muttered, looking down on her sleeve covered wrists, wondering if this is it. If this is when he finally finds the girls he’d been wondering about for so damn long he started dreaming her up in his mind.

However, she didn’t respond, taking off so fast he barely had a chance to follow after as she got lost among the drunken people they’ve been surrounded with, leaving him alone and unaware that he had just started something that would soon escalate to a point of no return.

“HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?!”

She didn't see Ethan for the next few days, even if he did find every excuse possible to come around the sorority house, hoping to catch his mysterious girl out in the open  - to finally confront her.  But the entire weekend was a bust as she remained inside, studying, trying to avoid thinking about a soulmate she finally met...the enemy who had already given her reason to find him disgusting – a typical man...She never thought her soulmate/enemy would be a typical man, saying whatever to get a girl down on her knees...not that she had something against being on her knees for the man she was into, she just hoped he'd want to put a pillow under them in order to protect her, but he wasn't the guy she imagined him to be.

However, come Monday morning, they were faced with each other again. Little did they know they had the same classes all day, finding each other on different sides of the first row, each jotting down every word the professor said – almost identical with the exception of colorful markers Y/N used in comparison to the black pen Ethan did.

Every question asked, their hands would shoot up so fast the professor genuinely laughed...until they started arguing.

“Darcy wasn’t mean for the sake of being mean. He was brought up to value certain traits in a woman and Elizabeth Bennet was the complete opposite of who he wanted!” Ethan exclaimed, slamming both palms against his desk as he stood up in his fervor, already red in the face as Y/N kept burying each of his opinions repeatedly.

“This isn’t just about his upbringing. That is not an excuse to be so arrogant and prejudice, especially if you consider that Bingley comes from the same society, the same environment and he could care less about all the things his future wife lacked.” Y/N pointed out calmly, but her tone is sassy and brass, knowing she’s winning this particular debate…a debate their teacher most definitely didn’t plan and couldn’t stop despite trying.

“Please, Miss Y/L/N Mister Dolan, sit down.”

“I have more to say.” Y/N stated, turning back to Ethan with a small smile – one Ethan knew would obliterate him.

“This is about an arrogant man who couldn’t see further than his own pointy chin to see that the woman before him is a jewel he should have appreciated from the start. But the point of the whole story is that love changes people and that’s why it’s so admirable that Jane Austen had given us two imperfect characters, allowing them to grow with one another, learn from each other, until they became a proper match. It goes to show that there is more than just destiny involved in making of a good relationship.”

She rose an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to respond, but Ethan was clear on one thing…This wasn’t so much about Elizabeth and Darcy, rather about them…she had been thinking of them as well and she was telling him he needs to step up…but how could he? She was so infuriatingly stubborn, so damn driven and argumentative…too much like him for them to ever work.

“Perhaps, but for that to happen there has to be contact…actual conversation and time spent and without that and a few well timed choices, Elizabeth would have driven Darcy away before they ever got a proper chance.” Ethan challenged, making her nostrils flare just as his jaw clenched, her reply cut short by their very annoyed professor and his pounding headache.

“Enough! Class is dismissed!”

Y/N darted out of the room almost immediately. She was the first one there and the first one out, Ethan gathered, knowing now he’d have to wake up earlier in order to catch her before her claws came out. Well, he hoped there was a time she didn’t have them out. Either way, he expected a few scratches even if everything goes well.

However, he soon realized she was in all his classes – all, but one – Economy 101.

Every class seemed like a rerun of the first, the two debating on most trivial and sometimes on the in debt issues of the subject, quite publicly, driving their faculty insane. In only one day, they’ve become an academic nightmare.

It didn’t stop Ethan from running after her once the classes ended, struggling to keep pace.

“Hold up!” He shouted, out of breath, surprising Y/N into a stop…but only for a moment.

“What do you want?” She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed at him, lips pursed as if she had every intention of kissing him, but he knew that is a way for her to show contempt.

Stepping in her path, he lifted his index finger weakly, doubling down to catch a proper breath.

“To. Talk.” He managed to say between breaths, straightening up, his mouth still open as he struggled to calm himself down. But he didn’t miss when she rolled her eyes at him, folding her arms across her chest as if to put up a barrier between them – to keep him at bay.

“In that case, no. I’m leaving.” She huffed, trying to pass by him, not expecting his hands to grip her hips, steadying her in place, pulling her closer to him – close enough to smell the mint from his chewing gum.

“Stop being as prideful as Elizabeth and let me try and start over with you.” Ethan insisted, his voice low and dark, compelling and charming…it worked its magic on her…just not as well as he had hoped.

“I have no words…Oh, wait! Ass, jerk, mindless, arrogant, frat boy, lowlife, butt-faced miscreant…” She listed, causing Ethan’s eyebrows to furrow, pressing together until they formed a vertical line, not too deep, implying he rarely frowned in his life.

“Butt-faced miscreant?” He chuckled, watching her fury grow, but he truly couldn’t hold it in. “I just think I’m handsome and charming. I’m honestly a catch.” Ethan shrugged, smirking at the way her cheeks darkened with her rage, finding it adorable.

“If you want me to stop being like Elizabeth, perhaps you need to stop being an arrogant Darcy first.” She stated, poking his chest with the tip of her index finger, her lips still set in that pout he found so attractive. Hell, her entire being was inviting – especially when she was mad…even more because she was mad at him. Even when she decided to walk away from him…she looked good walking away as well.

“I’ll have you know I’m as humble as ever, just aware of my value!” He shouted after her, knowing he probably looks like a douche-bag and a stalker, but he didn’t care.  

That’s when he decided he’d get her attention otherwise…by beating her in every way possible.

Every class became a competition – who will answer first or who will give a proper remark or a better grade and stop the other from winning in their imaginary race. And while Y/N found it infuriating – him to be infuriating, she also found Ethan with a fresh set of bruises each week and that didn’t sit well with her. However, with the pace they’ve set, she knew she couldn’t ask him about it – after all, he had his life, his own secrets and she had no right to them.

Their squabble lasted for a good while, which is when their games started getting heated. And Y/N understood that only when Ethan had gone a bit too far.

She screamed loudly…loud enough for the neighboring frat to hear the desperation and rage laced in the piercing scream, making Ethan laugh as he dialed her number.

“Dude, you’ve gone too far.” Grayson stated, shaking his head at his twin who had already placed his phone before him to get a good angle on his face so he could look good for when she answered the Face time call.

“What the hell do you want?” She growled into the phone, still shaking as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Just wondering why you’re hiding your face from me, babe.” Ethan smirked, the action audible in his voice, forcing her to properly face the phone and see the man who she was constantly at war with.

“I see you got my gift.” Ethan’s eyebrow rose, his cockiness showing in every pore of his being, making her eyes widen.

“You. Put. Hair-dye. In. My. Shampoo?” She said each word slowly, her voice shaking as her left eye twitched, making Ethan chuckle at her reaction.

“You fucking asshole! Do you realize what you’ve done?” She went off, not holding back as he laughed so hard he felt his stomach might cramp up.

“My abs are growing!” He exclaimed, watching her continue on the other side, his brother chuckling behind the screen as well.

“It’s not funny! Half my hair is burned from this shit! It took me six years to grow it to this length and now I have to cut it! Ethan, stop laughing! I swear you’ll pay for this!” She threatened, a promising craze in her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, making Ethan gulp for a moment, knowing she meant what she said.

“You’re on, Smurffete.”

And it really was on.

The one thing Y/N found unusual about Ethan is the fact he worked at a library. And what’s worse than having your enemy work in a library? After all, all the books she needed on her reports would suddenly disappear or he’d never stop talking to her while she tried to study, bringing her to a point of madness. But it also made sure Y/N knew where to find the frat in question when she wanted her revenge.

She tiptoed inside the library, seeing him with his head down – cheek against the back of his right hand, his lips slightly parted as he let out small breaths in his peaceful state, unaware of the girl he was so enraged and enthralled by would exact her vengeance any moment now.

She rubbed the small strip between her palms, gently peeling it off before plastering it on his face – quickly and precisely – waking him up in the process.

“What? Huh?” He jumped at the unexpected touch, looking around wildly in his daze until his dark eyes fell on her smirking figure, knowing instantly in the pit of his stomach this won’t bode well for him. Especially when he saw her navy blue hair falling down on her shoulders instead of all the way down her back like it used to.

And that’s when he felt it.

Blindly reaching up, Ethan had tapped his face until he touched a paper-like thing on his face – right over his eyebrow. And he knew. He instantly knew, even without trying, his soulmate had fucked him over.

“You didn’t.” He said in a disbelieving tone, staring blankly at her as his pupils dilated just by looking her way – simply confirming even if a big part of him hated her in this particular moment, Ethan had fallen hopelessly in love with her.

“OH…I did. And I’ve left you with a choice. Walk with it around campus or put yourself out of this misery and pull it right away.” Her smirk had grew into a wicked grin as she leaned closer, inches from his face, her eyes boring into his until they both felt breathing is an impossible task.

She examined his face, even the fading bruise under his right eye and the slightly swollen bottom lip. But then she dared do something bold – pecking the tip of his nose, she quickly stepped back and left Ethan sitting there – dumbfounded and completely fucked, and they both knew it.

Once outside, she had placed a hand over her chest, shaking her head at herself to reprimand whatever part of her cared for him and longed for the feel of his lips on her own. She didn’t want to like the guy, but more time she had messed with him – stronger her attachment became.

One minute he made her blush and the next he made her want to commit murder.

She avoided him like the plague for the weekend, awaiting the first lecture on Monday morning when Ethan not only came in late, but he still had the strip on his left eyebrow, hidden under his favorite snapback.

“I’m sorry, Professor Andrews. I just wanted to point out the dress code and that Mister Dolan is in violation of it at this point.” She pointed her pen Ethan’s way, making him sink deeper in his seat and he knew she had won this round. Because even if she had to cut her hair and the color changed, she looked even more beautiful with it – he had improved her if that was even possible – just confirming she must be some kind of a demon sent from hell to torture him to death or madness at the very least. But she had definitely won – not only by taking something many would say is off limits, but she had done it before their entire class, making sure he stops whatever it is he’s doing thus ending the war.

“She’s right. Mister Dolan, take it off.”

Unwilling and with a death glare sent to a smirking Y/N, Ethan had reluctantly taken his snapback off, leaving him with a very visible white strip over his eyebrow.

“That paper too.” Professor Andrews ordered, unaware what it really is.

“But –“ Ethan tried, making Y/N giggle when the professor simply repeated himself.

“Off.”

Gulping, Ethan had made direct eye contact with his mischievous devil of a soulmate, grabbing the strip of wax she pressed on his eyebrow, pulling it off in one swift motion, grunting as the pain hit him – blinding him. He couldn’t look at anyone anymore, humiliation setting in, deciding then and there he was done…he was done chasing her and he was done fighting with her…or for her. He was just done.

Y/N had been very surprised once she came to the library a few days later after not seeing Ethan around at all. She hated that she found herself feeling guilty, unable to fall asleep with those damn eyes of his ingrained in her permanent memory. She hated that she felt worried for him because Ethan never missed a class since she’s known him. And most of all, she hated that she found herself looking for him, actively trying to find his stupidly handsome face because her heart had started to ache without it.

So, when she waltzed into the library, only to find her arch nemesis sat at his post, his head down, facing a book, she made a bee line toward him.

“I need a book.” She pressed her lips, hearing her own voice and wishing to roll her eyes at how small and weak it sounded in front of the one man she refused to be small or weak in front of.

“Evidently.” He spoke, his voice void of the usual playfulness, sarcasm dripping with every letter formed. He didn’t even lift his head up, rather licked the tip of his index finger and flipped the page. He didn’t even bother giving her grief, simply…ignored her existence.

“So, you do have Alison Weir's War of the Roses?” She continued, hoping to get some kind of a reaction on his part besides the utter indifference. It hurt…it hurt to see him so emotionless, because even on his worst day, Ethan was anything but.

Annoyed, he lifts his head, giving her a full view of his black eye and terribly drawn on eyebrow. She wondered why the hell he kept getting those injuries or why he got in fights at all, shocked at the way his usual brown orb was shadowed by the purple ring around it. But then again, she also wondered which hoe did he ask to draw that eyebrow for him, because whoever it was, she did a horrid job and should have herself checked out because her hand shook so badly as she drew it that Y/N could genuinely see the tremors in her work.

But that’s not what she focused on, rather the bruise for she had never see it be so bad so far. It was never quite as prominent, as bloody…and he had never looked so…lost.

Subconsciously, she moves her hand toward his eye, nearly touching him before he flinches away from her attempt, changing his indifference to anger.

“We have the book! Go fucking get it and leave!” He snapped, leaving Y/N in a state of…devastation? 

She’d never admit it, but the tone, the words, the entire approach had rattled her, so instead of fighting him on it like she’d usually do, she took a step back, holding herself from being as obvious as crying before him.

“O-okay. I -”, She stuttered, pressing her lips as she swallowed thickly. “T-thank you.” She walked away swiftly, losing herself in the shelves at the back of the library.

Ethan followed her with his eyes as she did so, noticing she’s walking too stiffly, too quickly…she was trying to get away from him. He had chased her away. Snorting to himself, he shook his head, trying to understand why he’s put in this fucked up situation and how he’ll get out of it.

“Bro, why is Y/N crying?” Grayson placed his book on the counter, looking back from where he just came from – where he saw Y/N hiding in the corner with sobs sounding despite having both hands clasped over her mouth.

“Not my problem.” Ethan shrugged, trying to hide the fact his heart stung. She couldn’t be crying because of him, could she? After all, he hadn’t done anything they haven’t been doing all along, right? At least it’s what he thought.

“She’s your soulmate, E. It’s always your problem.” Grayson insisted, but Ethan didn’t budge. Instead, he buried his nose in the books and assignments, determined to let go of the misery he had found himself in.

It wasn’t always like that. It used to be a beautiful thing – exciting, competitive, frustrating and maddening and incredibly attractive…but it wasn’t real. Not like he thought it was. Turns out, it was mostly a lie. But for a while, it was a beautiful one.

So, while he was lost in his own head, Y/N had studied on the floor of the library until late, sniffling silently until she found what she needed. She carefully set the book in its place before walking out with her head down, refusing to let him see she’s spilled tears over his outburst…although it was more about her missing him…their arguing more than anything. But she knew he wouldn’t see her. He didn’t want to and that only made her hurt more.

Avoiding each other had become their new routine.

She’d occasionally catch a glimpse of him as he passed her, hidden in the crowd, his snapback on his head, hiding the monstrous eyebrow someone had drawn him, but also bruises she knew he was bearing. In her heart she retracts all the bad things she had ever said, they were never a reflection on him, only on her inner demons. 

When all is said and done, Ethan had been kind and mischievous, a perfect combination of loving and adventure she’s missed in life. He would have kept her life interesting even when she questioned everything. He would have made her happy. She knew that now.

“You should talk to him.” Grayson startled her, throwing his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into a friendly side hug. She elbowed him, wriggling out of his embrace, stopping before him.

“Talk? I barely even see him outside of classes. Even then, he’s usually hiding in the last row – last one in, last one out. Ethan doesn’t want me around.” Y/N sighed, pulling her books closer to her chest, her gaze dropping to the cobblestones just as her mood too.

“He…He does, but he was hurt. Humiliated. And he realized he needs a break from it all. It felt like an all out war between you two.” Grayson cleared his throat, shaking his head as if the thoughts he had were far too crazy to let them out.

“Just be patient with him, okay? Maybe let him know you’re not dreaming of killing him in his sleep? Say a few kind words?”

Y/N decided she’d try, if nothing else.

“You sure he wants me to? From what I’ve heard, he’s quite popular with the girls…even if they suck in their eyebrows skills.” She huffed, the jealousy oozing from her like poison, so clearly no once remained in the dark of her true feelings.

Grayson chuckled.

“First…I drew the eyebrow, but I forgive your for the harsh critics. On the other hand, you should have seen how worked up he was, he could barely sit still.” Pausing, Grayson raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips.

“You’re the hoe!” She exclaims, making Grayson scoff.

“Huh?!”

Chuckling, she covers her mouth. “Never mind, what was the second thing.”

“Second, he never had anyone before you. Y/N he had wondered about you his whole life and then he met you and he fucked up with whatever he said and he knew it the moment it happened even before he realized you’re his soulmate. He did all of it to get closer to you and I’m sure he more than just likes you. Okay? Just…he’s a one woman man and you’re the woman he wants. He’s just a little lost now.”

So, she had set off to the library once more, finding Ethan in his usual seat. He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous, yet perfectly styled to show his beauty. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite and she couldn’t help but halt, take a deep breath before watching him some more. She had never truly taken time to do so, afraid she’d be unable to resist his charm and she had her guard up from the start. This time she wanted the opposite, to see him – all of him.

He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression, even the drawn one and she found herself smirking despite the situation that stunt put them in. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips ripe for the kissing.

He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. She guessed she must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course the blush she that accompanied it was a dead give-away. It didn't help that he was so modest with it, it made the girls fall for him all the more. Despite all the opportunity that came his way he was a one-woman-man who prized genuineness and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high-heels. He was handsome alright, but inside he was beautiful.

What she didn’t realize in all the time she spent staring at him, is that Ethan had noticed her from the corner of his eye, feeling as if his head will explode if her gaze doesn’t relent. All he wanted was to let her go, but that stubborn girl wasn’t ready to let him let her go. She wanted to drive him insane, clearly. It’s the only plausible explanation.

However, before she had a chance to talk to Ethan, one of the frats stepped in her way, determined to get her attention.

“Mark, can we talk later?” She was blunt, trying to clear her path to the one guy she wanted, but Mark wasn’t interested in backing down.

“I would, but your promised me a favor when I helped you get into Mr. Clark’s class and I’ve come to collect.” Mark smirked, wanting nothing more than to have her asking for what the favor could be, to show enthusiasm and even some affection, but she had no intention of doing so.

“What is it that you want?” She rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.

“A kiss.” Mark exclaimed, making her chuckle.

“As if!” She moved left, trying to bypass him, only to find his hand gripping her elbow, pulling her toward him.

“Let her go.” A growled threat came from the one man Y/N knew would be there to save the day, forcing Mark to lessen the pressure.

“What’s it to you?” Mark frowned, his eyes narrowing at a slightly shorter Ethan who was already clenching his fist, raising his chin to face whoever it is that decided to make trouble for Y/N – his Y/N…if anyone is allowed to cause her trouble, it was him.

“Everything.” In an instant, Ethan’s fist found Mark’s face. The hand on her elbow disappeared, finding another as it pushed her aside. She watched Mark grab a book, hitting Ethan across his ribs, forcing him to his knees as a guttural grunt left Ethan’s lips, coughing up blood. Mark had used the chance to land a second punch on Ethan’s face – the last punch he’d make as Y/N had run into him, using her entire body to slam into the guy…anything to save Ethan.

Mark didn’t stick around to see the damage made, running off like a coward, allowing Y/N to face Ethan.

“Ethan”, she whimpered his name, cupping his cheeks until she could see the dark bruises on his face, some faded and some new, freshly made cuts. She had placed a hand over the arm he had used to clutch onto his ribs, shaking as the adrenaline took over her system.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice tiny and weak, filled with palpable emotion…Emotion reserved for him. It had given him reason enough to look her in the eye, his free hand covering the one she had placed on his cheek. And yes, the hand she placed on his face had provoked his old bruises, but he’d never tell her to move it for he had never felt her touch him and never with such gentleness, such care and devotion.

His strong hands, slightly rough, held hers as he stared deep into her eyes. She couldn't help but blush. His smile etched its way back into his face. His body was warm and toned as he hugged her close, comforting to the touch. His voice was deep, with a serious tone. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, "I really do love you."

She stilled, her body tensing with the words, but he spoke what she longed to hear. She didn’t want him to think she felt otherwise, quickly hashing out an ‘’I love you too” for his peace of mind, hugging him back which only caused him to groan in pain, losing footing as he fell back on his ass and against the desk.

“Owh, my ribs!” His cry didn’t help because in his fall, he had pulled her along with him. She had straddled him, her hands pressing right against his pained ribs, his arms still holding her so close she could cause him more hurt.

“I’m sorry!” She chuckled, placing a kiss on his jaw, and normally, Ethan would stop and appreciate the moment, especially since she buried her face in the crook of his neck right after but in this instance all he could feel is the hand she had pressed against his bruised rib.

“Still hurts, love!” He chuckled through the pain, hearing her mumble an apology once more which finally helped as she moved from his chest to his shoulders, but as she adjusted, her knee lifted, kneeing him in the gut, shouting out a ‘sorry’ just as he cried out:

“Owhhh, you evil woman!”

Deciding it would be best to just sit on the floor beside him, Y/N had held his hand in hers, her eyes not leaving his face.

“Why are you always covered in bruises?” She was almost afraid to ask, he could tell. Ethan had wanted to hide it from her, somehow…but he knew it would be a short fight because his girl had claws and they would scratch until he bled the truth.

“I’m training to be a boxer again. I was pretty good back in high school until I lost my coach and manager...my dad…Now, I usually do a few illegal fights a month to keep in shape and get some cash until I find a good manager.” Ethan sighed, knowing exactly what she’d say.

“That’s stupid. You could get seriously hurt! Are you that careless?! Why do you want me to go gray before I turn thirty.” She hid her face in her hands, her voice turning into a cry, driving Ethan insane. He wasn’t very good with tears.

“I know. I’m aware. I just…needed to get the frustration out.” He shrugged, deciding to place a hand on her knee and see if that does something to calm her.

“You’re an idiot.” She turned to him, her face red and wet, her fear evident.

“I know. But I’m still your idiot.” He smirked, despite the cut on the left side of his bottom lip, wanting to give her his signature smile even if it hurt.

“That’s still up for debate.” She deadpanned, leaning in, licking her lips as she watched his in thought, as if she’s weighing the pros and cons of kissing him now.

He could drink in her words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling tipsy. He watched her like she had the stars in her hands and soft petals at her feet. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. So he did. He refused to deprive himself of her lips any longer because each moment without her was torture.

He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. They are bound in a kiss that is so tender the world should stop on its axis and take note of their love. And she nibbled on his lower lip, drawing out a pained chuckle on his behalf which had ended their kiss and made her frown again, pushing back the hair from his face to see him perfectly.

“I’m convinced this is just a new plot of yours to kill me.” He managed to say, licking his lips to taste the cherry balm remains of her lips.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead Dolan.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the vibration of his airy chuckle, feeling it fill her heart and soul.

Perhaps being enemy soulmates would do them good in the long run. If nothing else, they’ll never be bored in life, always there to keep each other safe from others and to wreak havoc among themselves – bettering each other in the process.

Tags: @dolanstwintuesday @peacedolantwins @xalayx @godlydolans @heyits-claire @dolandolll @ethanhes​ @accalialionheart

[chaoticneurodivergent]

WARNING: Long infodump about consciousness and computer science and why I want to learn programming

When I was a kid I always used to be fascinated by the idea of building a model of consciousness out of sand. My child self made 2 incorrect assumptions: 1) Neurons are basically little balls, and 2) Consciousness is formed by a specific layout of these ball things.

So I basically thought of consciousness like this:

Take a collection of identical black balls, say 15 of them, and put them in a grid of 15 holes. Label them 1 through 15, then place them in every imaginable layout in that grid and assign each layout a "state of consciousness." Now if you get several million of them, it seems possible to have someone thinking "I want a hamburger." Basically, I thought neurons were little cells that moved around into various patterns that represented thoughts.

Then I realized that neurons are in fact COMMUNICATORS - they send electrical impulses back and forth to form simple messages that add up to make complex messages. This 1) Makes way more sense and 2) Is way way cooler. However, it unfortunately means that you can't build a model of a thought out of sand - or at least not without inventing your own underlying system where each and every unique layout represents a different thought, in which case congratulations, you just invented a language that uses the layout of millions of tiny dots in a 3d space to communicate rather than ordered sounds. Don't... Don't do that. BUT, then I realized that this allows you to use less dots staying in one place with their own varying features to communicate, rather than moving them around on some overall system.

So a couple months ago I was trying to understand panpsychism (ngl I'm still confused about that one) and I took two expo markers and drew some dots on my whiteboard and got really excited bc I figured something out. If the thought isn't in the layout, it can be modeled in an even more simple and variable way without........ Planning the locations of millions of grains of sand. All you need to do is have a certain amount of dots that can switch back and forth between two states, RED and BLUE. Then you simply need them to be able to communicate to change their states based on each other, and you have a primitive form of consciousness.

I actually got this idea from a cool book about fireflies which was talking about the mechanics behind coupled oscillators. Coupled oscillators being oscillators (something that switches between multiple states) that are coupled (aka they can communicate or are dependent on each other in some way). I thought maybe if my theory was correct not only is each firefly conscious but the whole group of fireflies, which blink in unison, are a more primitive form of consciousness. With some... Major logical leaps, that could create a possibility for our whole universe to be a conscious entity.

And then I decided to watch a computer science lecture on YouTube and JdbKJhzhzhdhd guess what!! That's what binary code is! Just like my red and blue dots, computers use the numbers "0" and "1" as states. That's how we can build AI! It seems crazy and abstract at first, but if you think about the most underlying mechanics of it, it makes sense. Which is why I want to learn how to code so badly now, because it's so cool and it's basically what I've wanted to do my whole life!

Final note though: The difference between computers and groups of fireflies is that as far as I'm understanding computers read those sets of "0" and "1" values with pre-programmed meanings for various patterns, just like my 3d sand language thing. Fireflies don't have an "overall reader." So I guess the philosophical question being, where is the consciousness seated? Because in humans and animals, there is no "reader part." It's just a bunch of communicating neurons. That's the part that I still can't get. Hopefully some day I'll figure that out.

So yes long infodump over sorry lol