#Spring '16

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lecture tips: Be naked and wet for the most convincing rhetoric.

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[bairdthereader]

Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 3

This is the space where their loves grows in safety.

S1E3: Kiss

[Note: Approx. 4K words here, so grab a snack first!]

Nick has been dealing with and processing quite a lot of newly acknowledged feelings in the days leading up to the events of episode 3. (See @stopper-my-heart’s excellent post analyzing Nick’s internet research.) When Harry asks how’s it, Nick’s “fine” is followed up with a totally untrue “everything’s normal," as he tries to push back the confusion he's feeling. After Harry invites Nick to his party, Nick has some interactions where his internal turmoil starts to affect his responses to the people around him: Imogen's thinly disguised effort to wrangle Nick into a date and the locker room teasing about Imogen and Tara. These are some of the places where we clearly see Nick beginning to struggle with the divide that's appearing between his previous self and the deeply buried truths he’s starting to recognize, saying things he doesn't quite mean and sliding back into the persona he's always held up with his friend group.

So, it’s a ways into this episode before Nick and Charlie are able to have a real conversation, and Nick takes the opportunity to ask Charlie to Harry’s party. Nick’s previous conversations about the party resulted in impulsive, pressured, or protectively ambiguous responses ("Yeah, sounds good," to Harry; "Fine, I guess I can invite you" to Imogen; "Yeah, maybe," to the rugby lads re: Tara), but this is a determined, intentional Nick. [I won’t belabor the point here, but see my previous post about this scene and Nick’s intentions if you’d enjoy more detail.] Suffice it to say that the space between Nick and Charlie has gotten visibly a bit smaller and emotionally very much smaller. Nick keeps his arms crossed during this conversation, but loosely, and he’s leaning forward. There’s some self-soothing and protection here as Nick bravely pushes forward and asks Charlie to go to Harry’s party, but at the end of the exchange Nick is still leaning toward Charlie, looking at him in a similar way as he did on the couch while considering holding Charlie's hand, but with more happiness.

On the flip side, Charlie’s hesitancy in saying yes to the party is obviously due to the fact that Harry’s party definitely is not his kind of thing, but also, I think we can assume, due to the locker room conversation referenced above where Nick (from Charlie’s perspective) has just contradicted all the signals he sent Charlie during the hug at his house. Charlie can’t imagine enjoying a party where Nick has his “chance with Tara.” But then Nick says “I want you to be there” and Charlie takes a moment to really look at Nick’s face, which is, it must be said, pretty close to his own in this moment. Charlie’s expression runs the gamut in just a second (Joe, you genius). There is the briefest moment when he looks like he might decline again, then a moment when his gaze roves around Nick’s face, and then Charlie clearly changes his mind. Something he sees reassures him that Nick means what he says, and so Charlie says “okay.”

On the night of the party, we see that Nick has been spending time with the rugby lads and other people from his friend group, enjoying himself generally, but not fully present. Imogen makes a grabby appearance, demands a hug and a compliment on her dress. Nick turns away almost immediately, looking for Charlie, whom, he’s beginning to realize on some level, he’s more comfortable with than any of these people. Charlie, on the other hand, is essentially entering what must feel to him and his PTSD like a gladiator’s ring. He’s surrounded by either strangers, bullies, or people he knows only superficially, with chaotic sound and strobing lights. He needs a grounding force and comfort.

So when they see each other, cross the room and enter their shared space, there’s clear relief and gladness, a mutual clicking into place.

Nick, likely recalling the hug at Charlie’s house, approaches Charlie with arms raised, possibly wishing to repeat that gesture of honest affection. So perhaps the original intent was a hug, perhaps not, but either way Nick remembers the public setting and that Charlie has not been privy to the progression of Nick’s thoughts around touch between them and so wouldn’t understand the motivation behind the hug. He settles instead for a two-shoulder grasp, continuing to respect the space between them—both the physical space required by the public setting and Nick’s concern about Charlie’s potentially negative feelings toward touch in general, and the emotional space required by the fact that they are both still unsure of what any touch beyond the purely platonic might mean. And here that space is literally brightly illuminated.

Meanwhile Charlie, a veteran of hiding in plain sight, with reactions and instincts hammered into place by physical, social, and emotional abuse, keeps his hands down by his sides. He stops approaching Nick just a split second sooner than Nick stops approaching him. His primary thought here has to be protecting Nick (and himself, but mostly Nick) from the potential speculation of the people around them, followed by continued uncertainty about what Nick’s touch actually means (see: long hug followed by locker room talk), and finally trying to keep himself from falling even harder for a likely (in Charlie’s view) unavailable Nick. Despite all this internal conflict, Charlie is clearly ecstatic to see Nick and doesn’t try to shrug off this very deliberate and affectionate touch. Nick’s hands start out tight, then loosen just a bit before reluctantly sliding off Charlie’s arms. They spend a long moment just smiling blissfully at each other while the light continues to shine between them. It’s right there on their faces, but there’s still too much uncertainty for either of them to fully recognize it.

The camera pulls away to show us Nick and Charlie in the center of the melee, with a still and peaceful space between them and bright light illuminating them. They’ve created safety and calm for each other, no matter what is going on around them.

Next we find Nick and Charlie couching it up in a random hallway discussing, once again, Mario Kart. As on the couch at Charlie’s house, Charlie is squarely in the middle of his half of the couch, a few pillows on one side, while Nick is closer to Charlie’s side of the couch (after all, he's left enough room for Harry to sit down on his other side, unfortunately). His arm is crossed across his chest in a self-soothing and containing gesture, trying to be as close as possible while still maintaining that little bit of space. Charlie actually seems less nervous, leaned back into the couch and loosely holding on to his drink while his face is turned to Nick. He’s thoroughly enjoying Nick’s company and closeness without too much worry.

When Harry approaches, Nick’s face conveys irritation and reluctance, while Charlie immediately starts scanning the group for potential danger, face closed off but eyes alert. When Harry sits down, Nick’s arm lowers next to Charlie, possibly to offer subtle comfort while someone so antagonistic toward Charlie is so physically close to him, possibly to prepare to stand up and get away from Harry if he gets too obnoxious. Either way, Nick is eliminating that space and allowing touch to happen for a caring reason; respect is still there.

The next few scenes are filled to the brim with nonconsensual, uncomfortable, or disrespectful touch.

Nick is clearly annoyed by, if not outright uncomfortable with, Harry’s yoking him and dragging him bodily away from Charlie and toward Tara. Harry’s always been a grabby guy and Nick usually puts up with it good-naturedly, but this is too aggressive even for Nick. He could fight back, of course, and push Harry away, but not without causing a bit of a scene; he looks almost ill by the time he’s finally in front of Tara.

Ben and Charlie collide fairly forcefully in yet another weird, random hallway, this one ominously dark. Ben starts with a disingenuous apology while Charlie backs into a literal corner, clearly signaling that he does not want Ben anywhere near him, much less any kind of touch. He even starts to walk away. But this is Ben, so of course he does the thing he knows will bother Charlie most in that moment and grabs Charlie’s arm. Ben regularly ignores, disrespects, and obliterates the space Charlie puts around himself, but this time, Charlie pushes back, literally and figuratively. While his strength here does him credit and takes him another step toward freedom from Ben, the fact remains that Charlie just experienced a very unpleasant, disrespectful, nonconsensual touch.

Imogen, though less negatively intentioned than Harry and Ben, also subjects Nick to touch he clearly does not want. He’s visibly uncomfortable—not nervous, not shy—but unwilling and reluctant. He tries to disengage kindly ("I can’t dance"; "I need to find a friend.) because he doesn’t want to hurt Imogen’s feelings, but she doesn’t take the hint. Or, if she does, she responds by grabbing even tighter, resulting in this massively distressing moment for Nick. [You have to wonder if Nick feels like his own neck even belongs to him after this party.]

Then, thank goodness, Nick gets to witness consensual, joyful touch between Tara and Darcy. Tara’s nod before their kiss is clear in the shot; obviously they’ve both agreed to this moment, and that agreement is what lends freedom and joy to their public affection. Not only are they bravely declaring their feelings in this intensely crowded setting, but they’re doing it with mutual, reciprocated care and respect for their individual feelings.  

So we now have a Nick who has Been. Though. Some. Things. in a very short space of time finally finding his best friend, his person, and settling in—close—to a Charlie who has also Been. Through. Some. Things. and wants nothing more than to be with his best friend again too. The space between them at this point is negligible. Nick once again leaves a good bit of room on his side of the couch in favor of being close to Charlie, their knees are touching, they’re turned in to each other, and neither of them are pulling away or displaying the need for a buffer against judgmental gazes as they did earlier in the evening. They both want comfort, and they want it from the person who they know has a caring understanding of them.

It’s in this safe, mutually (if silently) agreed upon closeness (read: lack of space) that Charlie tells Nick the truth, or at least part of the truth, about how Nick’s friends make him feel; Nick is clearly upset by this, not on his friends’ behalf but on Charlie’s. Nick returns Charlie’s honesty and validates Charlie’s feeling when he admits, out loud for the first time, that he doesn’t like his friends very much and says that he’d rather be with Charlie. This is Nick telling Charlie “I choose you” in a concrete way, even if he doesn’t mean it in a fully romantic way just yet. There’s an expression of hope, almost of expectation, on his face after he says it, hope that Charlie will understand. Charlie, being Charlie, doesn’t seem to entirely believe the depth of meaning behind Nick’s words, and changes the subject to his confrontation with Ben.

If Nick was ever going to cross not only the intentional touch divide but also the platonic-to-more-than-platonic touch divide in a public place, this moment of worry and protectiveness over Charlie facing off with Ben would be it. Nick clearly considers taking Charlie’s hand while Charlie is explaining what happened, but he doesn’t, and refocuses on Charlie’s face and words. Then, when the story is done, there’s a second of hesitation on Nick’s part as he glances at Charlie’s hand a couple of times—he’s extremely aware, especially after the sparkly hand hovering on Charlie’s couch, that this touch means more to him now than just a show of solidarity—but the hesitation is quickly overcome, and Nick commits to his intention. He is genuinely proud of Charlie, vastly relieved that the Ben situation wasn’t worse, perhaps a bit guilty that he wasn’t there to intervene this time, and wants a grounding touch to reassure himself Charlie is okay. Holding Charlie’s hand now is just as much about being his friend—his real, closest friend—as it is about romantic feeling or physical chemistry.

Charlie’s intense gulp, on the other hand, shows us that he really wants this to mean more. He stares down at their hands like he’s having an out of body experience (and for him, after the treatment he received from Ben, this considered and caring touch probably does feel that way). Notably, he does not pull away at all. Charlie has always been intensely aware of how any physical contact between himself and Nick would be perceived, both by Nick himself and by the people around them. The fact that Nick initiated this contact, likely combined with the lingering memory of the doorway hug and Tori’s speculation that Nick is not straight, plus Charlie’s hope outweighing his self-preservation instincts, keeps Charlie happily in what I’ll call the zero-space zone. Nick suggests finding somewhere quieter to hang out, and Charlie, looking again like he can’t believe it, agrees.

Nick keeps hold of Charlie’s hand, pulling him off the couch. This is in direct contrast to the way Harry pulled Nick off the couch earlier; Nick was verbally protesting and physically pulling back a bit, yet Harry still forced the issue, but here, Nick asks and receives Charlie’s agreement before he does anything to move Charlie. Charlie’s surprise increases as Nick maintains the hand hold even when they exit the pseudo-private bubble of the couch and move into the crowd. The zero-space zone is out in the open now. But this is Nick on a mission, fully realizing that he doesn’t want to be part of the melee anymore, that being with Charlie is what he wants; he’s unwilling to let Charlie go, partly because he just doesn’t want to, and partly so they won't be separated again. Nick proposes a race—all the quicker to get away—and lots of flirty running ensues.

Nick sits to catch his breath and Charlie, after a slight hesitation—whether from not being sure, even after the last few minutes, that Nick actually wants Charlie near him, or just to center himself a bit—joins him, but leaves more space than they had had between them on the couch. He needs that bit of space to prepare himself, to feel clear and steadied, for the conversation ahead. Because being truly alone with Nick for the first time in what have been some very confusing days for Charlie makes him simultaneously brave (he has to ask about Tara and get the answer from Nick, rather than secondhand) and frightened (he doesn’t really want to have his worst fears confirmed). He knows he has to get the question out, because not knowing is causing him pain. Again, the physical space between them represents emotional space for Charlie to maneuver.

Nick’s hand is on the floor during this entire conversation, but Charlie keeps his on his knees, possibly to resist temptation, possibly to preemptively protect himself from what he thinks will be more hurt. When he asks about Tara, Nick bodily turns toward Charlie, rushing to emphatically to deny any kind of attraction to her, seeming surprised that Charlie would even ask. Charlie takes a minute to reorient his thoughts around this new, or at least clarified, information, while Nick takes a second to acknowledge why Charlie’s question bothered him so much—both of them navigating their feelings in that shared, respectful space.

Charlie’s next question—so you don’t have a crush on anyone at the moment?—is even more personal (and takes even more bravery for Charlie), but could still possibly be construed as just friendly interest in Nick’s romantic life. It’s a fine line, but Charlie is both asking Nick a forthright question and giving him a little room to get out of answering it in any meaningful way if he’s uncomfortable. But that’s not Nick’s way, so of course he does answer, even if his uncertainty and fear keep him from naming his crush. “Well… I didn’t say that,” and “You’re just going to assume they’re a she.”

Nick is being brave too—each answer he gives is as honest as he can manage in the moment, and followed by a look of intense fear combined with an almost desperate desire for Charlie to read between the lines so Nick doesn’t have to name the thing that is scaring him so much . . . but he’s still answering. Charlie is so strong in this sequence, confronting his own fears, taking care of his own emotional needs, processing each monumental revelation from his best friend, while simultaneously guiding Nick gently through speaking out loud for the first time many of the conflicting emotions that have been wreaking havoc with his life. The emotional intuition and sustained nerve required to do this is frankly astounding.

Charlie asks, “Would you go out with someone who wasn’t a girl?” and even now this could just barely, the tiniest bit, be considered a question asked out of curiosity rather than from a point of personal attraction (after all, just because Charlie’s gay doesn’t mean he’s automatically attracted to Nick). But when Nick offers up the first “maybe,” you see Charlie visibly react. There’s just the slightest pull back of his shoulders as his eyes rove quickly around Nick’s face, assessing both Nick’s statement and his feelings while saying it. Charlie thinks for a moment, then starts to narrow that nurtured space between them. He does it carefully, moving one foot closer to Nick’s and placing his hand on the floor next to, but not touching, Nick’s. This is Charlie acting on his wishes while still giving Nick the room he needs, the time he needs, to think about what comes next, without any pressure or obligation.

Charlie’s next question—“would you kiss someone who wasn’t a girl?”—takes their conversation firmly out of the realm of friendly speculation and into that of romantic interest. It’s clear now what he’s getting at. He watches Nick’s reaction very carefully, probably on some level for signs of disgust because Charlie’s brain is always working against him, but mostly he registers Nick’s fearful excitement. He’s checking in on Nick every single second of this conversation. What Charlie sees propels him to carefully but very intentionally close that space and instigate romantic touch for the first time, understanding that it’s safe for both him and Nick to do so. Still, he keeps the touch absolutely minimal, continuing to watch Nick’s facial expressions, with the utmost care for Nick’s fraught emotions and respect for his right to pull away.

He doesn’t.

And we have Charlie the lionheart, putting it all on the line with one, final question. “Would you kiss me?” The physical space between them has narrowed, their shoulders closer together and pinky fingers touching, and the emotional distance has narrowed as well. Despite the way they both feel like they’re standing on the edge of a cliff, they’re reaching a clearer understanding of each other than they’ve yet had. Nick knows now that Charlie definitely feels attracted to him, and Charlie can see that there’s a chance that at least some of his feelings are reciprocated. There’s no going back from this moment for them, for their friendship, and both boys know it. But they’ve built this space of trust between them, so here they can both be brave. Nick gathers the courage he needs to return Charlie’s touch and twine their fingers together.

Charlie once again looks steadfastly at Nick’s face as he gives an almost imperceptible nod then pushes through his nerves to get out his answering “yeah” (accompanied by a very brief, very Nick Nelson-style frown of determination). Charlie waits . . . and waits, still making sure Nick is okay, before finally leaning in. And even when he does, his eyes stay open, locked on Nick’s eyes, not his lips, still watching even in this charged moment for any sign of discomfort or unwillingness on Nick’s part. It’s only when Nick’s own eyes close that Charlie allows his gaze to relax too. He can be sure, for the moment, that this massively important, life-changing touch, this kiss, is something Nick wants and that it is occurring within their shared space of safety.

They pull back, reinstating some physical space and trying to regain a bit of equilibrium. Charlie sees the panic-adjacent expression on Nick’s face and fears that maybe this went too far, while at the same time still feeling shocked that it happened at all, a bit dazed and overwhelmed. Nick uses this space between them to check in with himself, to make sure that what he felt was true, that he understands himself in this moment, and to decide what he wants to do next. While they figure these things out individually, their hands are still connected, grounding and reassuring—either of them could pull away completely, but they don’t. When Nick looks back over at Charlie, a magical little bit of rainbow reflected on his face, his expression conveys some surprise, some lingering fear and confusion, but also hope. Hope that Charlie is still with him in their shared space, hope that their friendship is still intact, hope that Charlie feels as strongly about this new thing between them, whatever shape it takes, as he does. Charlie looks back at him with trepidation, worry that Nick is going to pull away or put up walls or push Charlie away, but there’s also tentative hope in him as well. He doesn’t act on it, though—he’s still respecting the fact that this is completely uncharted territory for Nick.

But then Nick makes a completely unprompted, voluntary choice and takes Charlie’s hand with obvious intention (and a comforting thumb swipe). Now there is absolutely no room for misunderstanding or dismissing the gesture as anything other than what it is; Nick is giving truth to Charlie’s hopes and easing some of his fears with this touch.

They have once again established that they are still in the same space, still honoring each other’s fears and hopes and respecting each other’s desires. So from that place of assurance, Charlie leans into Nick again. Again, Charlie keeps his eyes on Nick’s for the entire time he’s closing the distance between them (he barely moves until he sees Nick look down at his mouth), doesn’t raise his hand to Nick’s neck until Nick’s desire for touch is clear, and again he doesn’t let his own eyes close until Nick’s do. Charlie’s hand on Nick’s neck is firm, but not restrictive, grounding and affectionate, but not pressuring. Charlie’s extreme and nuanced care for Nick is the exact opposite of how he himself has been treated in the past; he is making absolutely sure that there is nothing he’s doing that might hurt Nick, even in this moment that is just as charged and monumental for him as it is for Nick.

This kiss is much less tentative for both of them, a much clearer expression of their feelings and desires, as Nick also firmly but carefully grips Charlie’s shoulder and pulls him a bit closer, and Charlie hangs on to Nick’s shirt with his other hand. As soon as the kiss ends, they’re studying each other (and of course thinking about more kissing). Nick’s hand on Charlie’s shoulder loosens a bit and Charlie’s hand moves away from Nick’s neck to his shirt collar, giving each other just the tiniest bit of breathing room, but they both still want closeness as they acknowledge what just happened. Charlie sees Nick repeatedly glance back down at his mouth, something that gives him enough confidence for a small smile as he asks Nick if he’s alright. We’ll probably never know what Nick would have said here—there’s a good chance Nick himself didn’t know—but there is just the barest hint of a returning smile hovering at the corner of his mouth.

Until Harry. Harry’s voice reminding them that they aren’t truly alone, reminding Nick of all the ramifications of his attraction to Charlie, reminding Charlie that this is far from settled between them.

And suddenly that space between them that was safe and solid and contained is a yawning chasm.

For now.

[alistairtalkstoomuch]

i should reread solitaire

[lazyevaluationranch]

17-03-2024 Vulture.

The turkey vultures spend the winter in Venezuela, fly North along the mainland, and circle in groups above the shoreline. In the air they mostly lock their wings open and glide, not flap. So where the land ends they must circle at the water's edge and wait for the wind to be right to glide across to the islands in a group.

For months there have been no vultures, and then suddenly yesterday the wind opened their way home and the island's whole population is here, all at once. It's like someone found a giant knife switch labeled "Vultures" in a cave and shoved it to "on" with a satisfying "KA-VULTURE" sound.

The house is perched atop a stony ridge. The sun falls on the bare dark glacier-scraped slope behind the house and warms the stone, and from the warm stone a column of warm air rises. The vultures enter this invisible pillar of air and circle around its edges, upwards, upwards, around and above the house on ink-dark wings that glow where the sunlight comes through the edges of the feathers.

Sometimes they leave this air-column and glide over to the next stone ridge, the next invisible column of air, and the next beyond it, the next beyond that. Watching the vultures trace out the locations of the pillars, you get a sense of a whole vast structure of warmth and wind, like some grand invisible temple rising hundreds of meters into the bright brazen sky.

It's always here, I think, the huge columns, the invisible temple the glaciers built, made of air and light. But I can only see its structure when the vultures trace it out for me, like architectural drawings. Glad someone found the KA-VULTURE switch this year.

[onebizarrekai]

I'm spring cleaning the dreamswap tag and while it's cleaner than I expected sometimes I do need to grab my 19-20 year old self by the shoulders and tell them to f'ing chill

[a-queer-seminarian]

Today is Easter Sunday. Today is Trans Day of Visibility. Today is day 176 of genocide.

This year the lectionary gives us Mark's account of the Resurrection, with its fearful cliffhanger ending — an empty tomb, but Jesus's body missing. And isn't that unresolved note fitting?

In the face of so much suffering across the world, it feels right to be compelled to sit — even on this most jubilant of days — with the poor and disenfranchised in their continued suffering.

Mark's account:

Just days before, the women closest to Jesus witnessed him slowly suffocate to death on a Roman cross. Now, now trudge to his tomb to anoint his corpse — and find the stone rolled away, his body gone. A strange figure inside tells them that Jesus is has risen, and will reunite with them in Galilee.

They respond not with joy, but trembling ekstasis — a sense of being beside yourself, taken out of your own mind with shock. They flee.

The women keep what they've seen and heard to themselves — because their beloved friend outliving execution is just too good to be true. When does fortune ever favor those who languish under Empire's shadow?

Love wins, yet hate still holds us captive.

I'm grateful that Mark's resurrection story is the one many of us are hearing in church this year. His version emphasizes the "already but not yet" experience of God's liberation of which theologians write: Christians believe that in Christ's incarnation — his life, death, and resurrection — all of humanity, all of Creation is already redeemed... and yet, we still experience suffering. The Kin(g)dom is already incoming, but not yet fully manifested.

Like Mark's Gospel with its Easter joy overshadowed by ongoing fear, Trans Day of Visibility is fraught with the tension of, on the one hand, needing to be seen, to be known, to move society from awareness into acceptance into celebration; and, on the other hand, grappling with the increased violence and bigotry that a larger spotlight brings.

The trans community intimately understands the intermingling of life and death, joy and pain.

When we manage to roll back the stones on our tombs of silence and shame, self-loathing and social death, and stride boldly into new, transforming and transformative life — into trans joy! — death still stalks us.

We are blessedly, audaciously free — and we are in constant danger. There are many who would shove us back into our tombs.

And of course, the trans community is by no means alone in experiencing the not-yet-ness of God's Kin(g)dom.

Empire's violence continues to overshadow God's liberation.

The women who came to tend to their beloved dead initially experienced the loss of his body as one more indignity heaped upon them by Empire. Was his torture, their terror, not enough, that even their grief must be trampled upon, his corpse stolen away from them?

The people of Gaza are undergoing such horrors now. Indignity is heaped on indignity as they are bombed, assaulted, terrorized, starved, mocked. They are not given a moment's rest to tend to their dead. They are not permitted to celebrate Easter's joy as they deserve. They are forced to break their Ramadan fasts with little more than grass.

Those of us who reside in the imperial core — as I do as a white Christian in the United States — must not look away from the violence our leaders are funding, enabling, justifying.

We must not celebrate God's all-encompassing redemption without also bearing witness to the ways that liberation is not yet experienced by so many across the world.

This Easter, I pray for a free Palestine. I pray for an end to Western Empire, the severing of all its toxic tendrils holding the whole earth in a death grip.

I pray that faith communities will commit and recommit themselves to helping roll the stones of hate and fear away — and to eroding those stones into nothing, so they cannot be used to crush us once we've stepped into new life.

I pray for joy so vibrant it washes fear away, disintegrates all hatred into awe.

In the meantime, I pray for the energy and courage to bear witness to suffering; for the wisdom for each of us to discern our part in easing pain; for God's Spirit to reveal Xirself to and among the world's despised, over and over — till God's Kin(g)dom comes in full at last.

"The Empty Tomb" by artist He Qi.

[starlightparks]

once again i am thinking about solitaire*

[baeshijima]

important announcement : hiatus

so. um. as the title says, i will be taking a temporary hiatus for about two months 🧍‍♀️

as of the time of this post i will be sleeping in preparation to wake up at ungodly hours of the day (2:30ish am) to get ready for my morning flight to america !!

it’s not really a holiday but it kind of is?? i’ll be doing work there until early august and come back home 16th august, but my days will be pretty busy and i won’t have a lot of time to write and/or post in general, since i will more than likely be spending my days off/rest hours with others or napping to regain energy lmao.

because of this i won’t be active for a little while, and wanted to give u all a heads up before the inactivity really hits 😭 there won’t be any queued posts either since i want my return to be announced in ur notifs so that u all will scream cry throw up while rejoicing ny return 😌🫶 /lh

but yeah. that’s all 🫡

[latenight-ramen]

It is no sin to fight for what is right

[bairdthereader]

Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 4.2

This is the space where their love grows in safety.

S1E4: Secret (Section 2 of 2)

[Analysis of the first part of the episode is here. Previous posts in series: S1E1; S1E2; S1E3]

Nick and Charlie have returned to their safe space together, and they understand, to some extent, the newest facet of what they are to each other. On the one hand, the relief of having their safe space reestablished is incredible; on the other hand, the outside world and all its challenges await on the other side of Charlie’s bedroom door. As he prepares to leave, Nick starts to ask a question that makes him visibly uncomfortable, so much so that he can’t even finish voicing it.

Charlie, his tentative, recently repaired smile faltering, knows exactly what Nick is trying to ask. He’s been here before. He responds with an (unfortunately) oft-practiced “yeah, it’s fine,” trying to reassure Nick even as memories of Ben’s secrecy must be plaguing him, and his own desires are shunted to the side.  

The difference here is that Nick clearly knows that what he’s asking is hard for Charlie. His face as Charlie turns to get the umbrella is full of remorse and distaste for the agreement he just exacted from Charlie. When Charlie hands him the umbrella—with just the slightest bit of attitude that recalls the “idiot” conversation from earlier, but nothing like his usual plucky sarcasm—Nick manages to find a way to laugh, though it’s shaky. The relief in that laugh and the gratefulness on his face isn’t just for the umbrella; it’s for Charlie’s understanding of what Nick needs at that moment, for the sacrifice he understands (incompletely, at this point) Charlie is making.

Neither of them is feeling sure-footed yet; both are attempting to figure out what kind of boundaries their altered shared space has and how it impacts their interactions going forward. They’re both trying to understand where touch comes into this scenario, in a semi-public space after Nick has just asked to keep their affection a secret. They both want a more tangible goodbye, a meaningful touch. It’s in Charlie’s toned-down smile and longing “bye,” and it’s in Nick’s aborted wave and slight downward look of regret. But then there’s Nick’s lopsided smile and his little huff of gladness and it’s clear he is also happy that he and Charlie found their way back to each other.

After a moment standing at the door looking dreamily after Nick, Charlie decides that, no, that goodbye was not sufficient after all. That they deserve something more authentic and reassuring to both of them. He rushes out into the rain—sans umbrella! These boys!—and calls after Nick.

Stopping under the incredibly insufficient umbrella, Nick and Charlie exchange hi’s (Charlie’s with a bracing gulp afterward) approximately 10 seconds after their goodbyes. After an initial moment of being happy to see Charlie (again, it’s been 10 seconds and they still want to greet each other), Nick asks if he forgot anything. He knows he didn’t, but Charlie’s brief silence has him worried, despite the fact that Charlie ran through the rain to get to him with a smile on his face. While Charlie glances around, carefully checking that their privacy and therefore Nick’s need for covertness are at least somewhat ensured, Nick gathers himself with a little, slightly panicked swallow. Is Charlie having second thoughts now that Nick has asked him to hide their relationship? Is he about to pull away, step out of their shared space?

But no. When Charlie turns back around, his intent is clear on his face, and Nick looks right down at Charlie’s lips—a silent, respectful request from Charlie and enthusiastic agreement from Nick, all in a second—and Charlie’s able to say with confidence that, yes, in fact, Nick did forget something.

Charlie knows what they both want, so he closes the space between them, holding Nick’s neck and face with one gentle, intentional, calming, claiming hand, watching as Nick’s eyes go once again to his lips in an unspoken language of both entreaty and agreement, and he leans in for a real goodbye kiss, eliminating the previously unsure space between them.

When they pull back, it’s like two magnets pulling apart—it takes force to separate them. Now that they’ve established that this kind of touch belongs in their relationship, parting is harder. To say Nick is stunned is an understatement, and this happy, confident Charlie knows it. He nods decisively—this is the goodbye they deserved—and says "okay" in a way that confirms for both of them that they're on stable ground together again.

And now Nick knows what it’s like to kiss Charlie when the terrain between them is mapped, when their safe space is secured, when he’s sure of Charlie’s affection. There’s joy and giddy euphoria and some disbelief on his face, an overwhelming recognition of the potential scope of this relationship and the completely staggering enormity of the emotions he’s feeling, as he turns back toward home and looks briefly up at the sky. He and Charlie are together.

Arriving at school the next day is a happy affair. Nick’s cheerfulness is so marked that Imogen comments that "something’s different." She attributes it to a hairstyle change, partially as an excuse to touch Nick (without permission), but what she’s really picking up on is that he seems happier and more contented than usual. Nick worries that Imogen knows he’s been kissing a boy. When it’s clear that Imogen suspects nothing, Nick’s carefree attitude returns and he endures the rest of her teasing good-naturedly, smiling to himself when she leaves. After all, he gets to see Charlie next.

Charlie, meanwhile, walks into school so fast he’s about to break into a jog, smiling exuberantly until he reaches the door to their form room. He pauses, taking a moment to gather and calm himself, to dim the smile just a bit, reminding himself that he and Nick are a secret to everyone but themselves.

He can’t tame that smile completely, though, once Nick is in view. Nick is waiting with poorly concealed impatience, looking at the door, sitting with his arms crossed to contain his exploding heart, characteristic lopsided smile in place. A smile that only gets bigger as Charlie gets closer. There’s a moment as Charlie is setting his things down, when Charlie is still trying to contain his own smile, and Nick’s smile falters just a bit in response as he watches Charlie intently, silently, waiting to make sure that things are still where they left them under the umbrella.

But when Charlie sits and looks at Nick, and his enthusiastic “hi” is out in the universe, Nick is comforted and reassured by the familiarity of their affectionate greeting. His “hi” is quiet, but filled with relief and satisfaction and simple gladness that Charlie is sitting next to him again; there’s even a deep breath followed by a small sigh of contented settledness. Charlie is nearly giddy with happiness, possibly recalling the way he felt the first time he sat down next to Nick months ago. Back then, the space between them was unknown and blank. Now that space is a sanctuary that, in public, conceals and protects their new private closeness. The familiar, comforting routines of friendship blend with the sparkling newness of their deeper relationship, setting that space between them aglow.

We next see a moderately concerned and suspicious Mr. Ajayi informing Charlie that there’s a “boy” waiting for him in the art room, giving Charlie a chance to let him know if this is a situation Charlie is not on board with (Mr. Ajayi, you saintly soul). But Charlie happily, even perhaps a little proudly (he is Charlie, after all, so this is muted) tells Mr. Ajayi that he’s meeting a rugby boy (code for straight boy crush). So Mr. Ajayi leaves Charlie and Nick with his tacit approval, and Charlie strides confidently into the art room, where Nick is sitting with the same barely contained eagerness he displayed in form. Now, however, they’re alone, and Nick can be true and honest; he can say “I missed you” with complete sincerity and unabashed enthusiasm.

Charlie, typically, responds with a bit of sarcasm, unable to fully accept the implication of Nick’s statement—that he likes Charlie enough to want to be with him, pretty much all the time, and that those four hours felt interminable. Nick has seen Charlie deflect positive attention enough times not to take this too personally (though we have to think he wishes that Charlie was able to verbally return or validate his feelings at least a little bit). Not only does Nick not take offense to this teasing, he then checks in with Charlie about his friends and whether spending time with Nick would upset them; he doesn’t want this hiding to cost Charlie more than it already is. Nick's also subtly confirming that Charlie would in fact rather be having lunch with Nick than with his friends. Charlie makes a bit light of this too, but he’s still reassuring Nick in his own way that this was a decision Charlie made willingly. Then, to make it all quite clear, Charlie reaches for Nick’s hand under the table, instigating the first intentional touch since their parting under the umbrella. It’s hidden from view—Charlie’s respecting Nick’s request, and honoring their understanding safe space, while still making grounding and affectionate contact. Nick returns the affection by swiping his thumb over Charlie’s fingers, confirmation that the touch is wanted and the meaning behind it understood.

With this reminder of the safe emotional space they have between them, Nick confesses (again) that he’s glad to be away from his usual friend group. That they’re nothing like Charlie. Yet again, Nick is offering Charlie proof that he admires and values the things in Charlie that make him different, proof that he’s choosing Charlie. (Note that there’s no concern over Nick’s friends missing him; it’s not even expected by Nick himself.)  Charlie clearly doesn’t even know how to respond to this, indeed can barely believe it or internalize it, but it’s good for him to hear nonetheless.

They continue to hold hands throughout their conversation, keeping that line of emotional connection firmly in place, bridging the physical space that the public nature of the school day forced on them. It has to be noted that this moment is different from Charlie’s meetings with Ben in almost every way that matters. There’s no skulking, no leaning against walls in dark corners, little, if any, real secrecy (open doors, Mr. Ajayi knows, anyone could theoretically come to the art block at any time), just a semblance of privacy. The room is bright and light, positive and filled with color. Charlie clearly chose the location and arranged the meeting, giving him more agency than he ever had with Ben. This is a safe and welcoming place for Charlie. Charlie’s comfort here is obvious, and his affection and respect for Mr. Ajayi make it clear to Nick that this is a safe space for him, too (despite Mr. Ajayi’s initial ‘evils’). With the comforting physical touch of the handhold and the knowledge of safety in both the actual space of the art room but also the safe space he’s built with Nick, Charlie speaks aloud about the bullying he experienced, which then leads, with a noted drop in mood, to talk of Ben and his "making" Charlie keep them a secret.

Charlie immediately realizes from the crestfallen look on Nick’s face, the slight additional slump to his shoulders, the breaking of eye contact, that Nick is reading more into Charlie’s comment than Charlie meant by it. Nick’s guilt over asking for secrecy is plain on his face, and the idea that he might be causing Charlie even a fraction of the pain Ben caused him is horrifying to Nick. It makes him feel like he’s tainting that trusted space between them, and he withdraws inward briefly. Charlie reaches out with his other hand and grasps Nick’s—which seems to have loosened a bit—in both of his, drawing Nick closer to himself, intentionally pulling Nick back into that safe space, making sure Nick is listening to him. Charlie tries to reassure Nick, both with this touch and with his words. As Nick’s fingers tighten slightly around Charlie’s hand in acknowledgment, Charlie states emphatically that their situation is different, that Nick is nothing like Ben.

In most ways this is true, and Nick tries to rally, but clearly, neither of them has managed to convince the other, or themselves, that the nature of their relationship is, in fact, completely different. Nick's responding "yeah" is stilted and unconvincing, but still he leans forward and, presumably, returns Charlie’s double handhold. Even if his own guilt is gnawing at him, and he still suspects he's harming Charlie in some way, he’s trying to stay connected and keep that space between them intact. Charlie’s subdued smile tells us he knows Nick doesn’t completely believe his own “yeah,” and that Charlie knows there’s little else he can say to improve the situation in the moment. He’s made sure that Nick knows Charlie still wants him there with him, and that they can take the time and space they need to figure out their new dynamic—how to be in the world—together.

---

The next space they have to navigate together is rugby, which has always held its challenges but now introduces an uncomfortable element of conflicting loyalties for Nick and added guilt for Charlie. Charlie’s been moved from reserve to active player for an upcoming match and struggles to work up the nerve to tackle other players in practice. This earns the ire and frustration of his teammates, who feel Charlie is letting them down. Nick has to walk a fine line between concern for Charlie, guilt at the knowledge that Charlie is going through this at least in part because Nick asked him to join the team in the first place, and some real sympathy with his teammates for their frustrations. At the end of practice, Nick walks back to the changing rooms with some of the lads, leaving Charlie lagging behind, and the space between them expands, becoming thin and brittle under the pressures of this environment. Charlie, likely feeling guilt about his performance and worried that Nick is more upset with him than he is in reality—again, Ben’s conditioning of Charlie to make him feel not only pathetic but complicit in his own humiliation asserts itself—internalizes the team’s (and Nick’s) frustrations and tries to work them out by practicing more. . . alone.

As Charlie and Nick jog around the track before the match, they’re ahead of the pack slightly and by themselves—apart, but not alone, as they often are—and there’s a socially acceptable bit of space between them as they talk. All of Charlie’s friends are supporting him, and while Charlie can’t seem to understand why his friends would choose to spend their time in this way—"I told them they didn’t have to, but Elle said they wanted to be supportive”—Nick is both pleased for Charlie and perhaps wondering if any of his mates would support him in the same way. But Charlie doesn’t recognize this, and instead interprets Nick’s slightly brusque response as concern about Charlie’s friends seeing them together and learning the secret truth. Charlie rushes to reassure Nick that he won’t tell his friends about their relationship, and Nick, who had not been thinking along those lines at all, responds with a brief head shake and gruff, offhand “yeah, good, thanks.” Nick then tries to check in with Charlie, to see how this is affecting him, asking “you sure it’s okay?” To which Charlie responds, almost automatically, “Yeah. Of course.” Nick frowns, once again not fully believing Charlie or at least continuing to feel badly about the situation. But before this (very needed) conversation can continue, Harry forcefully interrupts, as he is wont to do.

When Charlie sees his friends arrive, he gets out from under Harry’s grip and gives Nick a little (again, socially acceptable, rugby-laddish) back-of-the-hand tap to his upper arm to get his attention and let Nick know that Charlie is parting ways with the group. Nick stands for a while, indecisive, as the rugby lads peel off in one direction, and Charlie to his friends in the other, leaving Nick briefly (but sadly, not unusually) alone. Nick watches from behind a literal physical barrier, cut off from Charlie, as Charlie affectionately greets his friends, as Darcy blatantly asks Charlie about his relationship with Nick, and as Charlie struggles to hide the nature of that relationship from his friends with blatant and painfully delivered lies.

Charlie looks over at Nick and sees him frowning, then immediately checks in with Darcy to see if there are rumors circulating, the need to protect Nick and keep the secret always at the forefront of his mind. Charlie’s shoulders are pulled up, his hands tug at his shirt sleeves, and he generally gives off an air of intense discomfort as he has to deceive his friends with Nick nearby, looking morose and, from Charlie’s point of view, upset about how the conversation is proceeding. Nick is so focused on this interaction, on his position as an outsider looking in, on Charlie’s obvious unhappiness, that when his own friends walk by and greet him, he spares them only a brief wave and barely a smile, before turning his attention back to Charlie again. The whole situation is clearly chafing hard, and Nick is beginning to recognize that not only does it make Charlie unhappy and put strain on Charlie’s deeply important friendships, it makes Nick discontented as well. This is a moment when the space they have between them is involuntary, when it is required by secrecy and circumstance, and it no longer feels good or right; its shape is distorted and unfamiliar.

Once again, Nick and Charlie are standing together and apart from their teammates as they watch the opposing team file out onto the pitch. Charlie takes a completely warranted nervous step back and bumps Nick’s arm with his elbow, an unintentional touch from which he almost immediately recoils. It’s a touch that would look completely accidental from an outside perspective, but that represents, to Charlie, everything he thinks he’s not supposed to do and feel around Nick in public and even, to an extent, in private. His desire for comfort, closeness, and reassurance are all things he’s been taught he doesn’t deserve and shouldn’t want, and the rule of secrecy only compounds those suppressive feelings for Charlie. Nick is clearly a bit surprised and regretful that Charlie feels the need to apologize at all, but there’s no time for him to respond now.

Nick now has to navigate one of the most challenging instances yet of trying to walk the ever-thinner line between his rugby lad persona and the person he wants to be with Charlie. The space between Nick and Charlie is fully public right now, and in one of the least hospitable places it could be. All interaction between them here would be heavily scrutinized within a very narrow framework of accepted demonstrations of masculinity. So Nick, who is keenly aware of this in a much more visceral and personal way than he was before, is trying desperately to captain his team to victory (which requires equal attention to each of his teammates), keep an extra attentive eye on Charlie without appearing to do so, and manage lingering feelings of guilt about his culpability in Charlie’s pain during the game, all while a running loop of concern about how all his actions appear to everyone else—and to Charlie, who still often misinterprets Nick’s intentions—is running through his head. He doesn't quite manage to achieve all of these things.

At various points in the match we see Charlie’s concern for Nick—quiet, but visibly there. We also see Nick’s concern for Charlie, sometimes more vocal (certainly more vocal than with any other teammate) but always from a (necessary) distance, and often followed by self-suppressive facial expressions or body language. Charlie especially feels this distance, the stretching of the safe space between them and the lack of intentional, reassuring touch to ground him. He feels disconnected from this version of Nick who must be so many different things to so many different people. And while he feels this painful divide, he also knows that Nick has a lot of responsibilities outside of their relationship; he’s conscious of the secret they’re keeping and what kind of behavior Nick can display within that boundary; he’s aware, as Charlie always is, of their surroundings and how not only does he have to be a chameleon and become what he’s expected to be in this space, but now, because of their relationship, so too does Nick. While this act of blending in protects the space between them from the outside world, it also hides Nick and Charlie from each other; they can’t see each other clearly through the masks they’re both wearing. On top of and because of all of this, Charlie is harboring intense feelings of guilt for even wanting or expecting any kind of closeness at all with Nick in this scenario. His feelings that he’s not worth all the trouble Nick is going through intensify, and his spiral of self-blame and guilt continues.

---

When Charlie is tackled to the ground for the second time and injured enough not to get back up immediately, Nick is involuntarily, forcibly rooted to that line he walks. Charlie is hurting, and Nick feels trapped by his conflicted feelings about how he should act around Charlie in this arena, his own request for secrecy, and his misplaced guilt around Charlie’s injury. He wants to reinstate and enter the safe space between them, wants to reassure himself that Charlie is okay and to care for Charlie, but is held in place by the potential negative perception their audience would have of that kind of action.

These separate and equally misplaced guilt spirals continue when Nick visits Charlie in the infirmary after the match is cancelled. Charlie is happy to see Nick but almost entirely self-restrained, completely still, while Nick pauses in the doorway, already looking a bit chagrined and waiting for Charlie’s acknowledgment. Their exchanged “hey” is muted, with none of the usual enthusiasm, but Nick enters the room fully after Charlie greets him in return. Yet again, they’re having to reestablish the boundaries of their safe space, but now they’re doing it blindly, unaware of the silos of guilt they’ve each been in, with an incomplete understanding of the ways they’ve each been stretched thin by the pressures of not just the match but all the limits they’ve put on themselves; they only know that something isn’t right.

Nick scans Charlie’s body a couple of times, looking for additional injuries, asking Charlie if his nose is okay. When Charlie says he doesn’t know, Nick’s hands clench briefly before he carefully sits very close to Charlie on the infirmary table, intentionally allowing their legs to touch, showing Charlie that he wants to be near him in this way, that he wants the closeness back, that he cares more than he felt he was able to show on the pitch. Charlie, meanwhile, sits nearly completely still, hands clenched together in his lap; he wants that care and affection from Nick so badly, but he doesn’t believe he should want it, or that he deserves it, so he keeps his hands—and everything else—to himself.

When Nick has inspected Charlie’s nose and said, with relief, that he thinks it looks fine, he looks for another way to keep showing Charlie care and affection, another way to bridge the divide that has grown between them. Even though both boys are quite literally covered in mud, Nick tells Charlie, with a tiny huff of laughter, that he has mud on his face. Charlie returns the tiny laugh, as they both try to edge back to a place of ease together. As Nick wipes the mud off Charlie’s face—something Charlie could have done on his own but which Nick clearly chooses to do himself—he swallows repeatedly, opening and closing his mouth like there’s more he wants to say (or do). Leaves float around them, and the same pink glow surrounds them as during Charlie’s daydream about Nick declaring his eternal devotion. Nick is clearly feeling some of the things Charlie had hoped he would a few months ago, and for a just a little while, Charlie watches Nick’s eyes and enjoys this moment of tenderness. The physical space between them has closed, and they’re close, possibly, to entering their safe emotional space together as well.

But then when Nick is finished wiping Charlie’s face and his hand drops, the mesmerizing and comforting touch removed, Charlie’s compulsive guilt reasserts itself. He looks away, and down, breaking eye contact as he apologizes. Nick, clearly completely confused and thrown, says “What?,” frowning and looking intently at Charlie’s face. Charlie looks back, and as he begins to list all the ways he thinks he’s “messed up,” he rubs his hands together, repeatedly pinching his own palm, sinking into himself as he calls himself clingy and annoying.

Nick can’t understand how Charlie could think this—looking back at the day with any kind of objectivity shows a restrained, audience-conscious Charlie who did nothing to earn either of those adjectives. When he continues, “I’m making this so awkward,” Nick looks away, down at his own hands, frowning as Charlie continues “You wanted to keep us a secret and I’m messing it up.” Charlie is trying desperately to comply, to remain within the boundaries of their relationship as he perceives them, with all of his warped self-perception and negative expectations of Nick’s reactions based on Ben’s abusive treatment. He’s cracking under the self-imposed pressure, and the guilt comes flooding out. Nick, on the other hand, feels fully responsible for what happened to Charlie during the match, guilty that he didn’t help more both during the match itself and the practices that preceded it, and is now reminded again that his request for secrecy is causing Charlie distress.

Nick looks up toward the ceiling, just as he did after the kiss in Charlie’s room, preparing himself to say what’s on his mind, what he knows Charlie needs to hear. He shakes his head a little, at Charlie’s words and at himself. Charlie looks increasingly concerned at this gesture, steeling himself, but then Nick says “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” There’s direct, sustained eye contact, a short, sharp sigh—this is intentional Nick—and extreme sincerity. It’s enough to at least get Charlie’s attention; there’s a blink and just the slightest hitch to his shoulders, a brief rising above his own thoughts, as he waits for Nick to say whatever else he needs to say.

Then Isaac walks in and the moment is broken. Nick is reminded immediately that it could have been anyone—a teammate, a coach, a medic—and though he’s clearly uncomfortable and shifts his body so it’s not turned toward Charlie anymore, he doesn’t actually get up. He decides to stay next to Charlie. As Isaac does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he knows exactly what’s going on between Nick and Charlie, both boys’ discomfort increases—Nick’s out of a toxic mixture of fear, confusion, and lingering guilt, and Charlie’s from watching Nick withdraw and believing that his self-accusations have been proven true; someone outside of their safe space now knows the secret, and to Charlie, it’s his fault.

As soon as Isaac leaves, Nick gets up with a marked throat clearing, saying he’d “better” go, followed by a gulp-filled pause. The outside world has intruded on their shared space again, and Nick’s reminded that his absence from the rest of the team might be noticed. Half of him worries about that, while the other half feels guilty for caring what they think at all and how that caring in turn affects Charlie. Charlie assures Nick that Isaac won’t say anything—half of him wanting to reassure Nick, the other half feeling guilty that Nick needs reassurance in the first place. Nick gives a gruff “yeah . . . okay” in response, and with a conflicted, self-focused frown and look down, he hurriedly leaves without a goodbye. Charlie caves inward; in some ways, this went exactly the way he thought it would.

They're back in their silos.

[If you'd like more infirmary scene analysis, I recommend @stopper-my-heart's post here.]

[moonchild-in-blue]

As someone who is also down bad for Vessel 100%, your tags on my polls have me nodding and going 'yes that's right!" Hehe!

Hell yeah 😌

Everyone should be so grateful for my one (1) braincell of self-control cus HONEY. The things I *don't* put on tags are :/

Once again I am disappointing my ancestors for being this unhinged and down bad for a soppy wet Bri'ish man 😔 But how can I not?? Look at him !!

Silly boy 🥺🤧

[maomao9jinshi]

Karasu wa Aruji wo Erabanai

. One has to understand Lord Natsuka’s overprotectiveness. He loves his younger brother so much.

[remy-cottagecore]

Magnolia Springs Manchet Bakery! You can smell the fresh baked goods from the street 🥐 ✨Reposts of my builds are NOT allowed✨  

[warizoh]

<任天堂> スーパーファミコン

[creationsbyast0ner]

hi guys!! happy saturday! i hope u all r doing good!! it’s spring!!! do u guys want more spring themes?? please let me know! i might throw some other ones in as well. love u all 🩷

[oiblackestsheep]

MBTI Types as spring time characteristics

INTP: The large patches of shade under trees with new leaves that make you feel a little chilly

INFP: Fields of newly blooming wildflowers that wave back and forth in the wind

INTJ: The rising sun in your window that is just bright enough to wake you up on time

INFJ: The pastel blue and pink colors of the sky after sunset, before the sky goes dark

ENTP: The elecricity in the air that sets you on edge just before a thunder storm

ENFP: The cool, but humid wind blowing through your hair and filling your lungs just before a thunder storm

ENTJ: A spontaneous rain that cleans all the pollen off your car, free of charge

ENFJ: Finally getting to wear the lighter and thinner outfits you bought and planned out back in February

ISTP: Watching heavy bumble bees land on flowers and weigh them down while they pollinate

ISFP: Playing with the different spray pattern settings on your garden hose while you water your yard

ESTP: Driving with the windows rolled all the way down and playing your favorite music for the city to hear

ESFP: The warm and heavy rain that entices you to run out into it without an umbrella and dance

ISTJ: Waking up to the sound of your neighbor's lawn mower in the distance and the smell of freshly cut grass

ISFJ: Seeing earth worms on the wet sidewalk and taking extra care not to step on them

ESTJ: Seeing signs for free/low-cost, outdoor community events at the park, zoo, library, etc..

ESFJ: The vibrant and highly organized freshly planted tulips in front of the public elementary school