#and it makes it really hard to gauge how understood or accepted i actually am. idk.

[ghostzzy]

at a point in my life where it doesn't make any sense to try to hide or obfuscate the fact that i'm autistic and disabled from my friends, but not at the point right now where i trust that i am not being secretly pitied or judged for it

[yasminbenoit]

“A Romantic Partner Won’t Complete Me, Because I Was Born Complete”: How Identifying As Asexual & Aromantic Brought Me True Freedom & Happiness | Yasmin Benoit for British Vogue

There is a phase in our lives where everyone seems asexual and almost everyone seems aromantic. It wasn't until puberty kicked in that platonic relationships seemed to take a backseat. My peers stopped wanting to play together and started wanting to 'date' each other. That was when I started to realise that there was something different about me. I didn’t seem to be experiencing the same urges as those I was around. I chose to go to an all girls school in the hopes that – in the absence of boys – everyone would stop caring about sex and dating. It actually had the opposite effect. There was a sense of deprivation in the air and the heightened desire to project their sexuality onto anything and everything.  

Therefore, my lack of interest became even more obvious, and it became a not-so-fun game to work out the source of what should be troubling me, but hadn’t been until that point. Having a sexual orientation isn’t just natural, it’s essential. It’s part of being a fully-functional human being. And to be romantically love and be loved by another is the ultimate goal. It’s part of being normal, which made me both abnormal and puzzling. When your asexual, people think there’s something wrong with your body. When you’re aromantic, they think there’s something wrong with your soul. Even for a teenage girl who internalised all of Disney Channel’s “be yourself” messages, it’s never nice to have people publicly debate your supposed physical and psychological flaws.  

My nickname in school was “hollow and emotionless.” I was a joker with a decent amount of friends, but I was lacking something crucial, the kind of love that really mattered and the kind of lust that made life exciting...so I was practically Lord Voldemort with braids. I sat through the regular DIY sexuality tests, having my peers show me graphic sexual imagery, have very sexual conversations in my presence, and ask me inappropriately intimate questions to gauge how far gone I truly was. These tests lead to the development of theories, most centred around me having some kind of mental problem. After a while, you start to wonder if everyone knows something you don’t.

When they said that I must have been molested as a child and “broken” by the trauma, I wondered if I had somehow forgotten about sexual abuse that actually hadn’t happened. I looked at some of my own relatives with suspicion, the same people who would later ask me if I didn’t experience sexual attraction because I was a pedophile. It was suggested that I was “suffering” from my “issues” because I was socially anxious and insecure. The suggestion that my ‘issue’ was pathological stayed with me for a long time, but not as much as the widely accepted theory that I was mentally slow. Unfortunately, that one stuck. I was referred to as “stupid” and I started to believe that was the case. It would impact my experience in education for the next eight years, long after I realised that there was a word for what I was.

Asexual.

I first heard the word during one of the near-daily sexuality tests that I was subjected to. I was asked if I was gay, to which I said that I wasn’t interested in anybody like that – men or women. At fifteen, I was asked, “Maybe you’re asexual or something?” but it wasn’t quite a lightbulb moment. How could it be when I had never heard the word outside of biology class? After an evening of Google searching, I realised that there were many people with my exact same experience, complete strangers whose stories sounded so strangely similar to mine. I also stumbled across the word ‘aromantic,’ but at the time, I didn’t understand the need for it. "Wouldn't all asexual people be aromantic? A romantic relationship without sex is just friendship with rules,” I thought.

Either way, my discoveries showed me that I wasn’t alone, but that only half helpful. I now had an identity that no one had heard of or understood. Most didn’t believe that being asexual or aromantic was a real thing, and I doubted it to. I had been taught to after years of armchair pathologisation. If asexuality was real, why did no one tell you that being sexually attracted to nobody was an option? What if it was just an internet identity made up to comfort people with all of the issues that had been attributed to me? I didn’t have to go far down the rabbit hole to realise that asexuality, like many non-heteronormative identities, had been medicalised. What I had experienced as just the tip of the iceberg. As someone who hadn’t been prescribed drugs I didn’t need or subjected to unnecessary hormone tests, I was one of the lucky ones.

My activism would be my gateway to the community. Despite being the ugly friend at school, I ended up becoming a model while in university. I decided to use the platform I had gained through my career to raise awareness for asexuality and aromanticism. It gave me the opportunity to encounter a range of asexual and aromantic offline, it was then that I learned the significance of having an aromantic identity. There are many asexual people who still feel romantic attraction, as well as aromantic people who still feel sexual attraction. They have their own range of experiences, their own culture, their own flag, and like the asexual community, I was relieved to see that they are just normal people. These intersecting communities are not stereotypes. They weren’t just thirteen year old, pink haired kids making up identities on Tumblr to feel special. They were parents, lawyers, academics, husbands, girlfriends, artists, black, white, young, old, with differing feelings towards the many complex elements of sexuality and intimacy. Most importantly, they were happy.

I am proud to be part of both, and I know that while being asexual and aromantic, I am a complete person and I can live a perfectly fulfilling life. Since meeting members of my communities, I’ve become more open about my identities in real life, and a reaction I’m often met with is sympathy. “You must feel like you’re missing out,” “I can’t imagine being like that,” “It must be hard for your family,” “Do you worry no one will want you?” “How do you handle being so lonely?” “You’re so brave and strong,” “What will you do with your life now?” Even in 2021, a woman who isn’t romantically loved or sexually desired by their “special someone” is perceived as being afflicted with some kind of life-limiting condition.  

Asexuality doesn't make undesirable or unable to desire others. It is a unique experience of sexuality, not a deprivation from it. Even if it was, there is so much more to life than what turns us on and what we do about it. Romantic love is just one form of love, neither superior nor inferior to any other. Being aromantic doesn't mean that you can't love or be loved, it does not mean you are void of other emotions or capabilities. I am not lonely with my friends, family, co-workers and supporters. I feel confident not when someone wants to date me but when I meet my goals and form worthwhile connections with others. My success isn't determined by whether someone will want to marry me someday. What we want out of life is our decision alone, our sources of happiness should not be defined by our ever-changing, culturally relative social standards. The love of a romantic partner won't complete me because I was born complete. Feeling sexual attraction to others won't liberate me because my liberation is not dependent on other people.

Valentine's Day is on the horizon. It's an occasion that amps up the focus on (and the pressure to achieve) a very specific type of love and sexual expression, one that is actually alienating for people inside and outside of the asexual community. During a pandemic where many relationships have been strained, tested, formed or distanced, it's important to keep the diversity of romantic and sexual feelings in mind. Many expect me to feel annoyed or lonely during this time of year, but I actually feel empowered and excited by the way sex, romance and love are discussed more deeply around this time. These conversations are constantly expanding to become more inclusive for everyone, and that's what we need to see all year round.

https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/asexuality-and-aromanticism

[shingia]

Heya. I know this is very angsty of a request, but I saw the fic of characters reacting to their s/o who [tw] relapsed into self harm and was wondering if you would do some for asahi, ushijima, and oikawa?

[𝐓𝐖] 𝐒/𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

hi ! ofc you can honey <3 i hope these will bring you as much comfort as you need, and plz don’t hesitate to dm me if you need to talk to someone, or to reach out for help in any way. here’s a hug for you bcs you deserve it, love you 💗 

also im sorry but i really couldn’t imagine asahi ever arguing with his s/o so i didn’t include this in his fic (he really is too precious)

warnings : mentions of self harm, one mention of blood, some self-depreciating thoughts. please do not read if any of these might trigger something, stay safe everyone <3

➾ 𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢

asahi trusted you blindly. and everyday, he had to make an effort to persuade himself that you trusted him in return. you did of course, how could you not trust the one that had helped you through so much ?

but this wasn’t about trust ; it was about shame. because the last thing you wanted was to find in his eyes the anguish and fear as they were a few months ago. you couldn’t do that to him, yet you kept doing that to yourself.

however, you had the misfortune - which was more of a blessing really - to have a very observant boyfriend who cared about you. and he cared enough to gather the courage to finally ask you about what he had hoped you’d come to him for. sat next to you on the couch, he took the plunge. 

« do you… do you remember when you promised to always come to me if you needed help ? ». there, he had said it. and from the way that his arm tightened encouragingly around your waist, you understood what he meant by this innocent question. he kept speaking : « you know i trust you, right ? i really do. but something tells me that maybe you forgot about this promise recently ».

each of his words was carefully chosen, more than usual. because even if he didn’t show you, he was terrified of messing up. the fact that you were reluctant to answer was enough for him to understand that he had guessed right. but what confirmed it was the single tear that slowly streamed down your cheek.

« oh angel, no, come here. come, you’re ok now… » he spoke in a tone that was more comforting that anything you had ever heard. his arms were wide open for you to snuggle in, and when they wrapped around you, his words replayed once again in your head. i’m ok now, i’m ok now… you repeated internally. and you were, asahi was a man of his words after all.

« i’m sorry for being weak » you finally said after a few seconds of silence, voice half-muffled by his embrace. his warm fingers traced the outline of your face, encouraging you to look up to him. not because he needed to see your face, he already knew it by heart, but because you needed to see his. « weak ? y-you’re the furthest thing from weak. how can i even put it..? you are one of the strongest person i know, and i wouldn’t be half the man i am today if it weren’t for you. 

you wanted to thank him, but exhaustion took hold of your body before any word could leave your tight throat. and when you woke up - two hours later according to the clock - asahi was still there, holding you tight against his heart like a promise to never let go of you anymore.

➾ 𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

ushijima hated to waste time and energy on ‘petty fights’, as he liked to call them. but it was really frustrating to always feel like he avoided confrontation ; arguments were necessary in a relationship, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

whenever you got into fights, you were always the only one to get angry, which never failed to make you feel guilty afterwards. and eventually, this feeling of guilt started to become permanent, taking so much place in your brain that you had to sacrifice a part of the self-confidence you had built up the past months. but you didn’t know how much longer you could conceal it.

tonight was the first time you were sleeping together since your most recent fight, the one that had damaged you so badly. and you couldn’t lie, feeling his warmth next to you after about three days spent ignoring him almost felt like a reward. but a reward for what ? you were certainly not proud of what you had done, and you were terrified at the thought that he’d ever notice it. but unfortunately, your efforts to pretend like everything was ok were put to an end in the middle of the night, at about 3 am. something silly, really : ushijima had just turned around in his sleep, and his shoulder accidentally weighed on your wrist, making you hiss in pain. he immediately opened his eyes at the sound, his hand immediately finding its way to your side - he was always a light sleeper with you.

« are you ok ? » he asked, propping himself on an elbow, barely distinguishing your silhouette in the dark. « yeah, just my wrist. come on, let’s go back to sl- ». oh… that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. it was hard to gauge his reaction since you could not properly see his face, but since he sat on the bed as soon as you interrupted yourself, you understood that it had not fallen on deaf ears. « are you comfortable with me turning on the lights ? » he asked, obvious concern in his voice. saying yes was tempting, because you knew this was a serious matter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you like this, vulnerable and ashamed.

ushijima accepted it of course, he knew he was not the best with words, so the least he could do was to make sure you were comfortable with whatever he decided to do. « is it ok if i hold you ? » he asked once again, his tone a bit more hesitant. the muscles in your jaw tensed at his words, it was more than ok, or at least you wanted to give it a try, but the worry you had caused him was bringing you back to the familiar feeling of guilt.

however, when he carefully made you rest on top of him like he had always done, something inside you felt healed to know that whatever you were going through did not impact every aspect of your life. his embrace felt the same, so did his heaving chest that rocked your body to sleep every night. surprisingly enough, you did not shed a tear. because the comfort finally felt stronger than the pain, you refused to let anything trouble this moment.

« are you ready to talk about it ? » he questioned, his voice rumbling like a soothing storm in his chest « or do you prefer to wait until tomorrow ? ».

ushijima might have avoided many discussions with you, but this one ? he simply refused to. and if he was more than ready to help you overcome your pain, he also knew not to pressure you into talking. words would come, eventually. but actions were always first.

➾ 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

despite his usually confident behavior, oikawa knew he had a tendency to second-guess each and every one of his actions, and to beat himself up quite often.

he could not remember the last time he had felt so utterly disgusted by himself, he was usually more careful with his words. but all it took was one angry outburst from him for you to withdraw into yourself - and he had to fix this as soon as possible.

luckily for him, your relationship was strong enough not to be too affected by this argument - which had not been your first, but definitely the biggest one. however, you had been affected. a lot actually. but you knew better than to talk to him about this, knowing that he would obviously take the blame for your relapse.

but oikawa was attentive, and, clever as he was, it did not take long for him to guess what you were going through when he saw the red-stained tissues in the bathroom trash. it had been two weeks since your fight, and just the thought that he had left you alone with your struggles for so long made him want to throw up.

without wasting any more second, he burst out of the bathroom and made his way to the living room where you were absent-mindedly watching a movie. he would have preferred to have a discussion with you with a clear head, but the sight of the tissues kept spiraling in his head and he was incapable of doing anything else but to pull you in for a hug whose suddenness made you gasp.

oikawa’s hugs were usually soft, with little kisses here and there and a few compliments chuckled in your ear. but today had nothing to do with those. his arms were engulfing your figure in a desperate need to feel you against him, like he was trying to make up for all the time he had left you alone. « i’m so sorry, so sorry baby… can you forgive me ? » he breathed out, his voice cracking with emotion. obviously you knew what he was referring to, how could you not know ? and just like him, the thousand words on your mind only transcribed in your arms wrapping around him, closing the last few millimeters that separated you as you frantically nodded your head yes. 

you did not think he had anything to be forgiven for, and sadly, you also knew that he would continue to blame himself no matter what your answer had been. that was actually your biggest motivation to begin your recovery journey. oikawa needed to know that, from now on, you’d turn to him instead of your old habits. and you wanted nothing more than to make him happy, so, since his happiness seemed to depend on yours, it could be considered a package deal towards a better future, together.

before you leave, here are links to two mental health support apps that i hope will help you deal what you are going through right now. i know it’s not much but i’ll be the happiest girl if this helped someone in the tiniest way. take care of yourselves ❤️

Calm Harm - Play Store | App Store

Wysa - Play Store | App Store

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[peggyrose19]

Drop Your Guard

✨I should be going to bed ✨  Buuuuut I’m not. Instead I’m writing Alex and Finn being brothers. Oh and Alex and Leo connecting briefly because Leo is an absolute saint and I adore him. As @im-oknutzy-trash put it: feelings are complicated. brothers are assholes. but sometimes they’re good. 

Characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove. 

Alex was nervous. He wasn’t really sure why, this was Finn. Of all people, he was sure to understand. Understand how it felt to have two people instead of just one, to love them both equally and differently. But that knowledge didn’t stop his hands from shaking as he rang the doorbell of the cubs’ apartment. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Finn that answered the door but rather Leo, wearing a red apron and a soft smile.

“Hey Alex,” he greeted, holding the door open to let him in. 

“Hey, Nut. Where’s Finn?”

Leo shook his head fondly. “He went to go pick Logan up at the airport. The idiot managed to forget you were coming over today until he was already there. They should be home in 20 minutes or so.”

Alex laughed a little — it was such a Finn thing to do — but it did nothing to quell the nerves in his stomach. Leo, head tilted curiously to the side, seemed to notice his discomfort.

“I’m just working on dinner now, d’you want to help?” He had headed behind the counter now and grabbed a knife and cutting board.

“I’ll only get in the way,” Alex said with a small but genuine smile. “I can’t cook to save my life, normally Ka-” he stopped himself suddenly, freezing as he realized what he was about to say. Leo just gave him a knowing smile and kept chopping. And Alex realized that he wanted to tell Leo. Something about him calmed Alex, made him feel safe. He could see why Finn loved him.

“Kasey normally cooks for me,” he finished awkwardly, “when I visit, at least.” Leo hummed encouragingly, eyes still focused on his hands. Alex rushed on, “Not very well, granted, but he’s better at it than I am. And he can grill really well.”

“So you and Kasey?” Leo asked softly, pausing briefly. “And Nat too I suppose.” Alex flushed a little.

“Yeah. It’s- yeah.”

“I’m happy for you,” Leo said simply. 

And in those four small words, a weight in Alex’s chest eased. Suddenly telling people felt less daunting. He had always known the boys would take it well, but that of course was a much different feeling than actually telling them. Hearing Leo say it, seeing his warm smile, it was more than anything he could have asked for. 

“Thank you.”

Keys jangled in the front door just then, voices sounding from the hallway, and Alex and Leo turned as Finn and Logan walked through the door. 

“Hey guys,” Leo said, walking over to greet them, accepting a kiss from Logan that was a touch too long in Alex’s opinion. It turned worse when Finn kissed Leo too, as if he’d been gone for weeks not a few hours. Discreetly, he cleared his throat, and Finn pulled away. 

“Oh yeah, Alex is here,” Leo offered. Finn grinned, albeit a bit sheepishly, and crossed to Alex’s side. Logan closed the door, watching bemusedly as the two embraced. 

“What’re you doing here, man?” Finn asked when he pulled away, smiling at Alex. And suddenly the nerves were back.

Normally Alex would make a joke, evade the situation. They were all well-practiced in it, giving bland media answers that gave nothing away at all. But looking into Finn’s bright face, and remembering Leo’s kind words earlier, he couldn’t find it in himself to come up with a lie. 

“I uh- I have some news,” he said carefully. Finn glanced at him curiously as he headed to the sink to wash his hands, Logan disappearing into the bedroom with his suitcase. Leo quietly picked his knife up again, watching them carefully. 

Finn frowned. “What’s up? And why couldn’t we do this over the phone?”

“Uh well...” Alex swallowed hard, unsure how to say it. He’d rehearsed the words in his head over and over on the flight to Gryffindor but now, finally faced with the situation, they had all flown from his mind. 

“I think your brother has something to tell you about why he’s here,” Leo butted in, smiling at Alex encouragingly. Finn looked between them, trying to gauge what exactly his boyfriend knew.

“Okay...” 

“Imdatingkasey,” Alex blurted out before he could stop himself. Finn just stared at him.

“Huh?”

“I-” Alex froze, looking desperately to Leo. He couldn’t say it again, couldn’t manage the confused expression on his brother’s face, the questions that were sure to come next. Fuck. He shouldn’t have done this. 

“Alex?” a quiet voice asked, and he looked up to see Leo standing before him, a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” He took a deep breath, then another, and nodded. Leo pulled away and glanced at Finn, who had stepped closer, looking worried. He had gone quiet.

“You okay? You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

“I know. I know, but I want to. Um...okay. I uh, I’m dating Kasey. And Nat.”

Finn stared at him for a long moment, in which Alex swore his heart stopped beating altogether. Then his face split into a huge grin and Alex was being embraced again. 

“Holy shit, Alex, that’s incredible,” he exclaimed, looking at him brightly. He pulled him to the couch, plopping down and looking at him expectantly. “How did this happen? Ahd since when? Is that why you’re here, to see them? And-”

“Woah, slow down,” Alex laughed, the tension leaving his body suddenly, leaving him feeling light and giddy. His hands were shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he was Leo slip out of the room, giving him a smile before disappearing into the hallway. “One question at a time, Fish.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “How long?”

“Um, a while,” Alex admitted. “Kind of. Y’know how Kase and I used to be on the Rangers together?”

Finn’s eyes widened. “Since then? Fuck, that was like ten years ago.”

Alex huffed a laugh. His heart hurt. “Yeah.” His brother’s gaze softened.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because I was scared,” he answered honestly. “You know what the League is like, better than most.”

“Yeah.” Finn looked so sad for a moment Alex nearly wanted to cry. 

“It’s better now,” he added in an attempt to lighten the mood. He couldn’t stand seeing Finn sad. “Back then... we weren’t like, ‘a thing’ then. But I- I’ve been in love with Kase since the moment we met. I just never thought I could actually have him.”

“I know the feeling,” Finn laughed a little. Logan, Alex thought. 

“We didn’t talk for a while after he left,” Alex admitted, looking down. “I mean we did, but not... not the way we used to. I missed him.”

Alex hadn’t talked about it with anyone except himself for so long that finally admitting it out loud felt strange. But Finn stayed silent for once, watching him with a careful, sympathetic expression. He got it. More than anyone else, he understood it. And there was a solace there, lying in that familiar face, so similar to his own, that he somehow had never expected. 

“What about Natalie?” Finn asked eventually, seeming to recognize the line they were toeing. Alex brightened at the question.

“I met Nat at the playoff party,” he recalled, smiling. They had talked before, briefly, had known of each other and what they each meant to Kasey. “She pulled me in instantly.”

“She’ll do that to you,” Finn agreed. 

“And... I dunno exactly how it happened. A lot of talking, a lot of feelings. Kase isn’t one to beat around the bush, despite those goalie eyes-” Finn snorted- “But, it’s us, y’know?”

“Yeah.” 

They were quiet for a long moment, mulling over their own thoughts, comfortable in the silence.

Finn broke it finally. “I’m glad you told me.”

“So am I.” And Alex realized he was. It was more than just a weight off his chest, it was an understanding, the feeling of knowing he wasn’t alone.  He said, “Thanks for listening.” Finn smiled. 

“Of course. I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me sooner.” 

“Finn...”

But Finn was already shaking his head. “I wasn’t there when you needed me, Alex, and for that I am sorry. And you weren’t there when I needed you.” The words stung, but Finn continued before Alex could protest, “God knows we could’ve used each other then. But it’s over, okay? It’s in the past. So you don’t need to feel guilty about it. We’re here now, and you just told me all that, and it’s all in the past. Okay?”

Alex sniffed, fighting back tears. “Okay.” Finn smiled. “When did you become the older one exactly?”

Finn rolled his eyes fondly. “Blame Leo. He’s the mature one in this relationship.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it.” 

“Fuck off,” Finn laughed, knocking Alex with his elbow, and when Alex knocked him back, it felt like nothing had ever happened, like they were kids again, arguing on the couch over what to watch. But there was a closeness now, a trust that hadn’t been there before. And as his brother squirmed away from his grasp, Alex knew he couldn’t ask for a better family. 

[wings-of-a-storm]

I have a question. My favorite character is obviously Benji, but this season I started to get an ultimate rancidity of him.In the end I understood why he was acting like this, he has a PTSD because of dating Derek, his parents shitting him and alcohol and the accident. It's about the accident I wanted to know about, I didn't quite understand what this accident was and why he started drinking. I get upset that Benji's story is the least explored in the series, in my opinion, it should be explored more

Sorry for late reply to this, Anon! I know a few others already replied to this but I figure I’d still add my take into the mix for you. :)

I think many of us share your frustrations about Benji’s story being drip fed to us instead of being looked at more deeply. It’s a very interesting history so I really hope that in season three we might actually get a more decent look at it…

BENJI’S HISTORY / WHY HE STARTED DRINKING:

Throughout both seasons we learn that Benji has struggled with mental health.

In the most simplest of summaries: Benji struggled with internalised homophobia -- he hated himself for being homosexual and fought against it. He even experimented sexually with girls (which he briefly mentioned in S1), but in the end, he couldn’t deny that he was gay. But acknowledging he was gay and being able to accept it are two different things. He hated being gay.

In order to cope with that self-hatred and fear, he turned to alcohol to dull his reality and in turn everything he felt. He’s still learning to like himself even now in season two.

In Benji’s own words: “Before I came out, I was kind of a mess. I knew I was gay but I didn't want to be. So I drank. A lot. (1x07)” And: “Coming out was really hard for me, Victor. And it is still hard for me to be who I am. (1x05)”

BENJI’S CAR ACCIDENT:

Benji said that when he was younger, he drank 'a lot'. From that statement alone we can infer that he knew he was drinking more than his peers were. Most likely that went beyond social drinking -- he was probably also drinking by himself at any opportunity.

There is an age limit for drinking for good reason: our brains don’t fully develop until we are in our twenties, and as such, when we are younger we are more likely to make riskier choices. Adding alcohol into the mix is just asking for trouble -- as Benji found out when, one night, severely inebriated, he lost control of his vehicle (or misjudged his surroundings) and drove through/into a building. “One night I got super wasted and decided that I wanted Wendys real bad. So I took my Dad's car to the drive thru and that's exactly what I did -- drove through the Wendys. (1x07)”

That is some serious stuff right there! On so many levels!

Firstly the physical toll: he ‘totalled’ his dad’s car. To have a car written off as too smashed to be driven, that car had a huge impact! And not surprising since Benji said he drove through the building. Whether that was through glass or a into a sturdy wall, to crunch up the metal of his car, that is a massive hit. We don’t know the extent of his injuries (he just said he was ‘banged up’) but we do know that he was at the very least knocked unconscious and/or had a head injury from it (“Waking up in the hospital with my parents standing over me…” 1x07).

Secondly, the emotional toll: when Benji gained consciousness and woke up in hospital, he said he “realised that I could have died." (1x07) That is a very frightening thing to confront -- your mortality. It spooked him enough that it was the catalyst for his Coming Out. He didn’t want to die without “ever really being who I was” (1x07); to have only lived his life as a lie and not known his true self…

Most of us, I’d wager, haven’t had to confront our mortality at such a young age -- like truly confront it after going through a life-threatening experience. In that sense, he is on a different level to his peers and Victor -- a big part of his innocence has been broken and re-formed.

There is more to the emotional toll though -- not explicitly mentioned in canon but pretty much common sense:

The pain of recovery in hospital and at home (whatever “banged up” means, he was injured in some way)

The guilt of knowing his actions could have caused innocent people to have been hurt or killed. No one was hurt, he said, but just knowing they could have been is a really heavy thing to have on your conscience.

The stress of dealing with insurance (for the Wendys, for the car). He would have had to burden his parents with sorting that all out.

Police would have been involved to investigate the incident and lay charges. That’s pretty darn scary.

Losing his licence and thus part of his independence

Seeing the physical damage of the Wendys if he ever went past it again -- knowing he had done it, knowing he had been in the car that made that damage and reliving the knowledge he could have killed himself…

He was so ashamed by it all, he didn’t want anyone at school knowing about the accident or about his drinking that caused it. In 1x07 the school still didn’t know so he really guarded that secret hard.

There’s just so much heaviness linked to that accident. And Benji has only had one year to process all of that. On some level, that stuff has got to linger.

THE INITIAL AFTERMATH:

We learn that after the car accident, Benji was in an ever worse state of mind than when he was drinking his life away before it. His mother reveals: “After your car accident last year you were so hard on yourself and things were pretty dark for a while there. And you decided to put in the hard work [to go to AA and get better]. (2x07)”

Referring to Benji's post-accident self as being in 'a pretty dark place' is a pretty big alarm bell. His mental health sounds like it was pretty much destroyed. It is so hard to rebuild yourself after falling into such a dark well, but over the year he must have pulled himself back from the brink. That is so, so heavy!

It’s hard to gauge whether Benji chose to go to AA himself (which seems to be implied), or whether it was a condition of his charge through the police, but he went there none-the-less to change his life and learn healthier coping mechanisms to handle stress/his inner conflicts.

Something else worth noting is that, timeline-wise (as messy as that always is in LV), Benji was dating Derek through all of this. His one year anniversary with Derek was in S1 but his one year sobriety was only in S2. Who knows how that would have complicated things. He wasn’t Out to his parents or anyone but he was dating a (adult) man. So he was simultaneously hating that he was gay and drinking his mind blank but still dating a man. That is a super stressful and conflicting dichotomy that he was dealing with in amongst all this… (“It is still hard for me to be who I am.” 1x05)

THE MOST IMPORTANT INSIGHT FROM BENJI’S DRINKING AND AA:

It is so important to take time and realise what being in AA means about Benji: as a young teen, Benji self-medicated his way through his worsening mental health by drinking to handle stress and internalised homophobia. He didn’t have any proper methods of handling stressful situations. He is now having to unlearn those behaviours and learn new strategies through AA and his sponsor. But he has only been doing that for one year! That is a blip of time in the hourglass.

Now let’s look at the events of S2: Benji has been inundated with stress while still learning how to cope with it without drinking. And he’s had to learn and practise these new coping strategies while:

Being in high school

Holding down an assistant manager job

Watching his significant other being emotionally wrung out by his mother’s treatment of him; dealing with his own rejection and banishment from Isabel

Reliving both his own coming out stress and homophobic aggressions at school directed this time at his significant other

Trying to deal with the shame of being in AA and keeping that a secret from all of his peers at school

Like far out, that is a ton of stress! Anyone would crack under all of that, let alone a young and recovering alcoholic!

So yes, when faced with stressful situations, Benji is not always going to react in the right way or say the right things. He’s still learning how to do that with his sponsor and AA meetings. He might come off as ‘rancid’ in S2, but really he is just a kid who is struggling and trying to do his best.

[misslilli]

Hope you guys are not too busy with Fictober 😄 thank you, as always, for your amazing feedback!

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 26 - A Pivotal Peppermint Mocha

[ DS ]

He respects my wishes, of course he does, and I don’t see him before or after Thanksgiving break, except for a few glimpses from afar, across the school yard or at the farmer’s market. As time passes, each time I see him, it gets less and less painful and my funk begins to lift. My kids at school breathe a sigh of relief and my friends stop tiptoeing around me. The nights get easier, too, and I manage at least a few hours of shut-eye.

I just got home from school, a little earlier than usual and I can hear the girls chatting and laughing in the kitchen.

“…and then Squirrel rolled her eyes and said: ‘But Felix, that’s impossible, no-one can stuff 100 marshmallows into their mouth, not even your dad!’ I get such a kick out of this kid, he insisted over and over again that Moose could do it and he’ll prove it to her. You should’ve seen the exasperated look on Squirrel’s face!”

What the hell? That conversation is eerily familiar because I’ve just had it this morning at recess. Why the fuck are they referring to us as Moose and Squirrel?

They jump about a mile as I step into the kitchen, guilty looks plastered all over their faces. Sarah, who just told the story, starts to speak first. “Uuuh.. hey D, you’re home early…” My hands on my hips, I give them each a long, hard stare.

“Who. The Fuck. Are Moose and Squirrel?” They share a look I can’t decipher and Holly pulls out a chair.

“You better sit down for this, D.” I do as I’m told and glance around the table, waiting for someone to start explaining what’s going on.

Sarah and Holly both make it clear by silently staring at Alex, the calm one of our group, the one they trust can explain in a way I won’t kick their asses afterwards.

Alex folds her hands in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’d like to preface this with stating that everything we did was done with love and because we care about you and your happiness.” ‘Oh goody, I can’t wait to see where this is going…’

“We’ve been talking about Moo- Mulder a lot at our Friday night dinners and we could tell that you liked him. When nothing happened and no-one made the first move, we thought we’d give fate little pushes in the right direction.” I stare at her, starting to panic.

“Oh God, what did you do? Is anyone else in on this thing? Is he in on this whole thing?”

“No, no, no-one knows except for us. And Miss Hannigan, but only because we needed her help with the costumes and we swore her to secrecy.” I snort, you can’t swear the town gossip to secrecy.

“So the Halloween costume was your doing? That we went to the town fair in a couple’s costume?” Alex nods. “What else?”

“Just little things, I swear. Remember when we were at the Farmer’s Market and we all had various errands to run? We saw Felix and Mulder were heading over, so we scattered to give you some alone time.” Which led to our first quasi-semi-let’s not call it a date-date, yes I remember.

“So what’s the Moose and Squirrel business then?”

“Well, since it was all a secret operation, we needed codenames. Sarah came up with a play on the first letters of your last names and we thought it was cute, especially since there’s such a big height difference between these characters too. This was how Operation: Bullwinkle was born. Of course, after the basketball fiasco, we called it off… are you mad, D?” I sit in silence for a while, taking in the things my friends came up with to set Mulder and I up.

They eye me anxiously, trying to gauge my reaction and if they should run for cover right about now.

“No, I’m not mad. It was actually a really clever secret operation and I’m kind of sad it didn’t work out the way we all wanted.” Holly lifts her shoulders, relieved that I understood that they didn’t mean to cause any harm.

“Never say never, D.”

—————

[ FM ]

My mom has taken Felix with her while she’s out grocery shopping, which gives me a good part of the afternoon to leave the house and roam the streets. A good way to clear my head. It’s the first week of December, but New England hasn’t been graced with snow yet, just a misty cold that seeps into your coat and straight through to your bones.

My hands are freezing because I forgot to take my gloves, so when the green logo of the local Starbucks catches my eye, I go in to warm up and get a cup of coffee.

Usually, I avoid this place like the plague, I don’t possess the fast decision making skills required to choose from the 999 combinations, just to have a cup of freakishly overpriced coffee.

I can barely get through the door, the place is jam packed and soon, I can smell why. Peppermint Mocha season starts today. The prospect of standing in line for hours almost makes me turn back, but something stops me from leaving.

Most of the people are holding a cup in their hands gleefully already, so I push my way through the crowd to where the line starts. When I reach it, I find myself dumbly staring at the back of a fiery head of hair, a shade I’d recognize anywhere in the world and in the most crowded places.

Shi-hit, does this break the ‘giving space’ rule? No, I’m just getting a cup of coffee on a cold winter day, no big deal. I don’t even have to talk to her. Yeah right, who am I kidding?

—————

[ DS ]

I’m way too excited about the start of Peppermint Mocha season, so here I am, in a place packed with people, patiently waiting in line to finally get my hands on that glorious to-go cup of Christmas Spirit.

I’m next in line when the person in front of me turns a little too quickly, making me take a step backwards to let them pass, bumping into the person standing behind. I mumble a “I’m sorry!” over my shoulder and freeze when I hear a familiar voice respond with an “Don’t worry about it.”

Counting to ten in my head before I turn my head, I come to face with a grinning Fox Mulder, who adds “Fancy bumping into you here!” His silly pun elicits the first genuine smile I’ve given in weeks.

“Technically, you didn’t bump into me, I bumped into you.”

He grins even wider and nudges my shoulder with his index finger. “There. So, I’m new in town, what’s good here?”

I order my Peppermint Mocha with sweet cream foam and an extra espresso shot while he pretends to gag, he orders his black coffee to my snort and the barista’s comment on what kind of first name ‘Mulder’ is. We move to stand at the end of the counter to wait for our coffees.

“Sometimes, I just want to tell them my name is Bob, just so I don’t have to explain Mulder or Fox to another barista.”

“Don’t ask me how many time’s I’ve been Donna, Danny or Dinara and one time, Daniel. I think they do it on purpose. At least yours is easy to spell, Eff - Oh - Ex.”

“Oh I bet you were a regular hit at the spelling bee, with those mad skills of yours!”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Bob.”

The barista calls out our names, ‘Peppermint Mocha for Daisy, black coffee for Mouldy’ and we reach out to accept our respective cups. Pushing out way to the crowd, we continue our conversation.

“Daisy? That's not even remotely close to my real name… but Mouldy is freaking priceless!” Her giggle at their slip up almost makes it worth it to have a shitty first name.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the guy with the funny name. I kind of like Daisy, though, it’s a pretty name!”

I’m so happy to see that we turn to head in the same direction, strolling along the crowded sidewalk, sipping our coffee. I have to walk pretty fast to keep up with his long strides.

“It is, yeah! So tell me, Eff- Oh- Ex, how much flak did you have to take way back in the day, when “What does the Fox say?” came out?” I shudder at the memory.

“They didn’t tease me with it. Much. Just a lot of ring-ding-dingalinging. It became a thing in my friend group, whenever they asked me something, they’d add ‘So what does the Fox say?’. It went on a long time and they still do it sometimes, when we get together, just to drive me nuts!”

“I hope for your sake that Felix never discovers that song, he’d have a field day!” Oh God, she’s right. Must keep him away from it at all costs. At my panic face, she laughs an evil laugh. “We do listen to a lot of music at recess…”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t!” I point an icy finger at her. “Promise me you wouldn’t!”

“Well, it does have a lot of educational material in it, with all the animal sounds…”

“I’ll have you know that you hold my sanity in your hands, handle with care!”

“I hear they have a lot of fun pills at the asylum, maybe I’ll come visit so you can sneak me some!”

We come to stand at the junction where we have to part ways and she raises her cup.

“Have a good day, Mouldy!”

“You too, Daisy!”

—————

[ DS ]

I think about the strange but fun encounter all the way home, the world didn’t end like I thought it would when we met again and it was a rather pleasant conversation. Like a conversation between long-time friends, even though friendship is not exactly what I’m looking for here. But it’ll have to do, for now. It’s just nice to talk to him again.

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘It’s A Dangerous Game’ - Saeran Choi x Reader (Nsfw)

It’s here!! I’ve spent the last three days entirely dedicated to this fic, I really really hope you guys enjoy it! It’s an absolute labour of love and I would really appreciate any likes and reblogs on it and kind words! I’m sorry for the slightly odd formatting, tumblr messes with it! - Violet 

If Day 9 of Saeran’s route ended a little differently. - A song fic inspired by the song ‘It’s a Dangerous Game’ from Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical, I really suggest listening to the song whilst reading this fic! 

Title: It’s a Dangerous Game

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Saeran Choi x Reader

 You were sat in your room, occasionally getting up to hear if you could make out any conversations on the other side of the door. It was rather muffled, but you heard Saeran’s name muttered a few times, your stomach starting to churn at the mention of him. You were so conflicted. You had loved Ray, that much was evident. You were still so drawn to Saeran, he was a horror at the start and had treated you with such irredeemable cruelty, but he was changing. His turmoil was so plain to see that even the believers couldn’t stop themselves from gossiping about it. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate Saeran, he was hurting you out of his own pain. He didn’t know what to do with his anguish, so he lashed it out on other people. He needed help, but you could only get him out if the two of you could first get to safety. You could tell he wasn’t ready for such an idea. You knew you needed to run far, far away from Magenta: but you wanted Saeran to come with you. Your cold fingertips grazed over the lovebite he had given you, and you felt an urge to see him. You knew it was wrong to feel like this, but you couldn’t help it. Saeran ignited something in you the same way that Ray had done. It felt different, but you couldn’t deny to yourself that it was there.

 Rika’s words had worried you, it was plain to see she blamed you for Saeran going missing and it was just as clear that she was vengeful because of it. But, to you, the fact that this had happened was evidence enough that he was changing, confused and scared. You checked your phone again, but there were no new messages from him. Instead, you read through the messages from Rika once again, lost in her accusations.

‘_____?’ A nameless voice from the back of your room asked. You knew that voice all too well.

        ‘Saeran?’ You whispered back, trying to keep your voice down to ensure that the believers guarding the outside of your room wouldn’t be alerted.

         ‘You recognized me right away. You weren’t waiting for me, were you?’ He moved closer, but still maintained a tentative distance. You sat up in bed and started to move when he stopped you, ‘No need to get out of bed. Relax. I’m not here to torture you…’ He continued. You had never seen him look so… melancholic. Not even Ray had appeared so beaten down and vulnerable in front of you, even when the two of you had encountered V in the garden.

Saeran held your gaze, ‘I will no longer torment you.’

         ‘How come?’ you found your voice from the back of your throat and questioned him, but he explained that it was something he could not summarise in one word. His mint eyes glanced towards the edge of your bed and you beckoned for him to sit down, sensing that he needed to speak.

‘____, you never gave up on me no matter how much I tormented you. You didn’t let my torture and your wounds crush you. I cursed you dozens of times that your eyes are disgusting because you looked like you know a world completely different from mine. And when I kept looking into your face, it felt like I was losing. I wanted to get closer to you, but I also wanted to avoid you. I wanted to know you better, but at the same time, I wanted to neglect you. Even after I tormented you… it didn’t feel like I beat you. That’s why I felt empty. I felt so empty. So, in the end, I got angrier, and I wanted to torment you even more. You’re gentle, but you never fall down. You rebel, but you don’t return your pain to me.’ His gaze dropped for a moment, ‘You avoided me, but you never gave up on me completely… Even now, you haven’t given up on me.’

Your eyes dropped to the hand that he had rested on top of your bedsheets and you tentatively moved your own towards it, gently placing it on top. He startled for a second, not expecting such intimacy. He was so unused to it, it had always been so denied to him.

‘My darkness is melting away, but you still remain the way you are… How can you stay the same?’

‘I thought you were hurting others because you had been so terribly wounded in the past. I stayed the same because you’re you, regardless of whether you’re Saeran or Ray. I care about you both.’

‘You understood me. I should… thank you for understanding me, shouldn’t I?’ He turned his hand slightly to wrap his fingers around yours, ‘Thank you… for understanding me. All those things I said about you, how you were weak and useless, they’re not true at all. I was the weak one. I said all those cruel things to you because I didn’t want people to know I was so weak. I didn’t want to get hurt.’

‘But you hurt yourself by saying such cruel things, you hurt yourself and Ray.’

‘No matter how hard you tried to guide me to the right path, your words couldn’t reach me. Even now, it’s so difficult to accept myself the way I am. I’m ruined beyond hope. It’s impossible for me to throw away my hatred against the world and start all over again in this little hell, but maybe it’s possible for Ray. Right now, he’s speaking inside me… that maybe, just maybe, if what V said is true, he might be able to see his brother again. And that, if he begs for your forgiveness, and if by any chance you’re able to forgive him, then he’ll make you as happy as best he can, with everything he has. I can hear him now, he’s praying in the corner of my heart that everything will work out well and that he’ll be happy one day. I know nothing but anger. I get angry because I’m scared my hope will turn to despair again-‘

‘I won’t let it, not your hope nor Ray’s. I’ll protect it.’ You cut him off. In the darkness, you heard him swallow and it sounded like he started to choke on his own words a little.

‘We already are one. It’s just that my voice is stronger right now. Both Ray and I are… in this body. The monster that had to torture you to hide how pathetic he’s become is me, and the persistent idiot that doesn’t lose hope no matter how much he’s tormented is also me. If I become good enough to keep you unharmed… we’ll naturally become completely one.’ Saeran turned to you, a tear falling from his eye and landing on the hand which sat between the two of you, ‘I must leave.’

‘Saeran, don’t go.’ You clutched at his hand tighter as he tried to flee. The frailness of his hand worried you, knowing that he never ate enough food. You knew all too well that he had strength in those hands, but also tenderness. Softness.

‘I didn’t want to tell you… that I’m sorry. It feels too late, but I should do it anyway. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you.’ He said, stern but sad.

‘I know you did, but it’s different. You’re different. I know you’re sorry. You’re not the same person who did this. You were so…heavily drugged. You aren’t going to do this again, we both know you aren’t.’

‘But I’m the same person who did that.’ Saeran glanced at your neck, at the lovebite. He used his free hand to touch his hand against the bruise. His pale hand stopped just slightly short of actually reaching your throat. He muttered an apology and began to retract his hand, but you caught it and pulled it to your neck so his fingertips couldn’t deny that the lovebite took place. However, there was still such a slight fear of his touch, given everything that had happened, that you gasped at the feeling of his hand on your neck. The chill of fear wasn’t the only reason for the gasp, but he didn’t realise that and attempted to pull his hand away. You held the cold hand against the warmth of your skin.

‘No, no! It’s okay. You’re okay.’ You assured him. It seemed to work as Saeran began to move his fingers up and down the soft skin of your neck, his eyes falling over your bare shoulders and arms.

‘Ray… said that he wanted to be bolder to you, but he’s too scared. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing right now, but I have the capability of being bolder for him. Do you mind… if I try?’ Saeran didn’t move, but held the intense eye contact once again. You could have gotten lost in those eyes of his, but the racing of your heart and the burning in your gut kept you grounded. You wanted him to bolder, to touch you again, in the way that he’s supposed to.

I feel your fingers -

Cold on my shoulder -

Your chilling touch,

Watching your eyes

As they invade my soul -

‘Of course…’ You breathed out, meeting his gaze with a light dusting of red flushing your cheeks.

‘I can’t be tender in the way that Ray can…’ He trailed off.

‘That’s okay, you don’t need to be Ray for me. You can be Saeran.’ You replied and he seemed convinced by this and you felt as his fingers curled at the back of the neck slightly, bringing you closer to him. He pressed his chapped lips against yours for a moment and you were worried he was going to hear your heart beating so loudly at the contact. Saeran pulled away momentarily to gauge your reaction was a positive one, and then pushed his lips against yours once again with increased intensity. He was rough, that couldn’t be denied. But he wasn’t doing it to hurt you, Saeran just wasn’t as tamed as Ray. Your breath hitched in your throat as he crawled across the bed to be kneeling above you, refusing to break the kiss as he did so. Your arms slide around the back of his neck, working your fingers into his hair as one hand grabbed onto your thigh.

Forbidden pleasures

I'm afraid to make mine.

            He opened your mouth with his own and pushed his tongue inside, causing you to moan. It felt so dangerous, with the believers outside. You knew someone could open the door at any moment and Saeran knew it too. It still felt risky doing such a thing with Saeran after he had been so cruel to you, but you didn’t want to stop. It was so good and you could tell by the way he looked at you, by the way he touched you, that he wasn’t the same person that introduced himself a few days ago.

At the touch of your hand -

At the sound of your voice -

At the moment your eyes meet mine -

I am out of my mind -

I am out of control -

Full of feelings I can't define!

He broke off the kiss first, needing a second to catch his breath. He seemed to be wary of the door opening too and moved off the bed to listen for any voices on the other side of the door. He paused there for a moment, waiting. You missed the connection and the sensation of his body so close, the touch of his lips against yours. An idea popped into your head. You slipped out of bed to grab a chair and handed it to him to slide underneath the door handles so they couldn’t be opened. 

           You also stood with your ear to the door and closed your eyes to concentrate on any slight noise. You couldn’t hear anything except for the thud of your heart and the quiet shift of Saeran’s clothes, which was a relief. Once you were satisfied that no one was outside, you sighed and were about to turn around to look for Saeran. However, before you had the chance to do that, his arms had already snaked their way around your waist and had pulled you close to him with his torso pressing against your back. He muttered your name as he sighed against your ear, placing small kisses along the side of your neck. It took everything you had to not moan in that moment, since you were both so close to the door, and instead you let out a few shaky breaths as he kissed your neck and shoulder with more fervour. 

It's a sin with no name -

Like a hand in a flame -

And our senses proclaim

It's a dangerous game!

           You weren’t sure how far the two of you were going to go, but the heat pooling in your stomach indicated that you didn’t want to stop anytime soon. Evidently, neither did he. Saeran pulled you by the waist and moved you up against the wall so you were facing him once again. His eyes seemed darker, half lidded and needy. Within an instant, his mouth was on yours once again, kissing and pulling at your lips. He let out a very quiet groan as your hands worked their way up his body and onto his shoulders before moving them to grab onto his hair. His started kissing along your jawline and onto your neck again, pausing next to the lovebite he had previously given you and you knew it was bothering him.

           ‘It’s okay. You can keep going.’ You whispered back and the man attached his lips once more to your throat, leaving small purple bruises as he did. Your own hand reached up to smother the moans coming out of your mouth as you got more and more turned on. He kissed every bruise he left, including the original one to change the meaning of it. It was no longer a thing of anguish, he wanted it to be one of affection. 

A strange romance -

Out of a mystery tale -

The frightened princess

Doesn't know what to do!

‘Don’t cover your mouth, I want to hear you.’ Saeran whispered into your neck, giving you goosebumps at the sensation. As though to emphasise his point, he lifted your arms above your head, holding both of your wrists together as he went back into kissing you.

‘Ray wanted to do this to you too…’ He continued, sliding one of his legs between yours as you melted against him.

‘He can. I wouldn’t stop him.’ You practically moaned into his mouth and Saeran broke the kiss suddenly, conflict shadowing his face. You were confused, and a little scared for him for a moment. You were so worried that you had done or said something wrong and almost began to apologise. That was until you felt the source of his conflict pressing hard against your thigh. Saeran lent his head down so his forehead was pressing against your shoulder and sighed. He loosened the grip he had on your wrists in defeat.

‘I should go. This is too much for you.’ He muttered, cursing his body for such a reaction. It wasn’t as though it was entirely unprecedented given how the situation had escalated, but he didn’t want to push too much too soon. He knew he had to be considerate of you and considerate of his previous actions.

‘I don’t want you to go-’ You pleaded, using one hand to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss, ‘stay with me.’ He nodded, even if he seemed worried about imposing on you in such a way. He had you so painfully turned on and you were glad you had him feeling the same way. It wasn’t too much for you. In that moment, it was exactly what you wanted.

All I know is I'm lost -

And I'm counting the cost -

My emotions are in a spin!

And though no one’s to blame...

It's a crime and a shame!

 When he was on top of you, you could feel his growing erection pressed against his suit trousers. There was a sense of urgency, desperation, about this intimacy and Saeran pushed your dress up over your hips, exposing your dark underwear in the moonlight. You were inexperienced, and oh so willing to let him take the lead with this, but still a little embarrassed and squeaked at the sudden cool air to your thighs. You went to close them but Saeran held them open, moving himself to lodge his torso between them, a smirk you had never seen appearing on his face. 

but it's true all the same

It's a dangerous game!

You watched as his eyes darkened again at your consent and he guided you towards the bed, not being able to keep his hands off of you for even a single moment. They grabbed at your hips, your waist, your thighs. Your legs hit the back of the bed and you fell backwards onto the plush sheets with Saeran falling on top of you. He had taken to biting at your lips as one of his hands slipped underneath the hem of your black dress, squeezing at your upper thigh and making you shiver. You couldn’t help but moan each time he touched you somewhere new, and you nearly whined when his body left yours to take off his black blazer and tie. There was something about the way that he yanked his tie down to loosen it which made your legs shake slightly in anticipation. He didn’t take the time to fold them, instead leaving them discarded on the floor. They weren’t what was important right now.                        

‘Do you want to undo your dress? If I have to do it, I’d rather just rip it.’ He said, cocking an eyebrow. You complied and undid the zip down the side of the dress and pulled it off from above your head, wanting to spare the fabric. You hadn’t even thrown the dress on the floor before Saeran was grabbing for your chest with one hand and trying to undo his shirt with the other. His plan wasn’t exactly working, so you reached out your hands to unbutton his shirt for him. You felt so… naked under his intense gaze as he didn’t take his eyes off you as you undressed his pulling his shirt from his arms. His cold gaze followed your fingertips as they trace along the outline of his body, the weak body he hated so much, touching along the many scars he had. You couldn’t help but look in horror at the new ones from the ‘cleansing’ he was put through in order to destroy Ray. There were so many, they were so deep. Some of them had been bandaged haphazardly and disinfected, probably by Ray whilst others were barely starting to scab over. He must have seen your expression drop because he put his hand under your chin to make you meet his gaze.

‘You don’t need to worry about those. I’m okay now.’ He pulled you in to another kiss as he reached around to undo your bra, you were thankful that he decided to not rip it, and the lovebites began moving down your chest as he grabbed at your breasts. You gasped against him, unable to contain how good his hands were already making you feel. You didn’t need to find words to convey it, your body was already acting on its own. Wanting him, needing him. 

‘I’ll ask one more time, are you sure about this? I don’t think I can love you in the same way that Ray can. I won’t hurt you on purpose, but I can’t promise I can do wha-’ Saeran started.

           ‘I’m sure. You’ve already said that both you and Ray are one. You don’t need to love me in the same that Ray would, because you’re Saeran. I trust… Saeran too.’ You touched the side of his face and he planted rough kisses down your body, placing one into the hem of your underwear before he pulled them down and off your legs. He positioned himself between your thighs, his rough hands grabbing and kissing at them, adding the occasional bite. You couldn’t deny that you loved the teasing, but you needed something more, you craved to be touched properly. His mouth found itself on your hipbone, sucking hard to form another purple bruise before trailing his tongue across to between your thighs, finally giving you the sensation you desired. 

           ‘Sa-Saeran…’ Your breath choked in your throat as his tongue brushed against every intimate part of you. He hasn’t tentative, but bold and rough. He licked and sucked until he found out what made you moan the most, savouring the fact that he could make your thighs shake to such an extent that he had to hold them in a hard grip to keep them steady. His soft tongue was rough, but never forceful. It was eager, determined to please for both parties. You were embarrassed to look, but when you glanced your eyes down at him his powerful gaze was holding your own, deciphering every reaction you made. The intensity in his cool eyes caused the knot that had been slowly forming in your stomach to begin tightening more and more, to the point where his hands were the only thing keeping you from subconsciously squeezing your thighs around his head. You threw your hands into his bleached hair, unable to help yourself from needing something to hold onto.

              ‘Does the Princess like that?’ He asked, biting onto your thigh and catching his breath. All you could manage in response was a moan and a few whimpers, silently begging him.

 No one speaks -

Not one word -

But the words are in our eyes

Saeran was also getting painfully hard from watching the reaction he had on you, how good he could make you feel with his mouth. He had never liked his body, but he, at a base level, at least appreciated that he was capable of bringing you such pleasure, even if it had to come at the price of first causing you such pain. He felt the tip of his erection leaking pre-cum uncomfortably into his tight boxers and deprived you of his tongue in order to free himself from the now restrictive trousers. 

‘You’ll like this more.’ He knelt up on the bed, looming over you. The room was so dark, the moonlight providing the only illumination against his icy eyes and smirk. He wiped the wetness from his jaw and used the same hand to circle the head of his dick, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft. You clenched your thighs at the sight in absolute yearning. 

‘Tell me that you want it, Princess.’ He edged closer to you, moving all the way up so that he was practically in your face. He hovered above you on his hands and legs, and you felt his erection touch the side of your leg. You were so desperate to be close to him once again, you swallowed.

‘I want…it.’ You whispered and you blushed and averted your gaze from his in embarrassment.

At the touch of your hand -

‘Say it again.’ Once again, he moved your head so you couldn’t look away from him.

At the sound of your voice -

‘I want it… Saeran.’ Your voice trailed off as you felt him reach down to adjust himself, lining up his tip with your entrance. 

At the moment your eyes meet mine -

            The both of you let out broken groans as he pushed himself into you.

‘Ah, you’re… fucking tight.’ You opened your eyes to see him with his eyes squeezed shut in a mixture of pleasure and concentration. For a moment, you were so lost in the feeling of being so utterly filled by him. He had already felt so good just going in that the idea of him finally moving inside you was nearly enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. He waited until you felt comfortable enough for him to move before setting a rough rhythm. This time, Saeran did have to muffle your mouth to smother your moans. Of course, he made sure not to hurt you in the process. It fuelled his confidence to know he was fucking you that good, but this was not the time to get caught by another believer. He kept his gaze on your face, watching as you closed your eyes and a new wave of pleasure washed over you with every hard thrust of his hips. Occasionally, he dipped his head to bite at your collarbones or groan out a curse in your ear.

I am out of control -

Fighting feelings I can't define!

 I am out of my mind -

It's a sin with no name -

No remorse and no shame -

           Saeran continued to thrust into you, hitting you and new and deeper angles each couple of minutes so the sensations always felt different. His pace was merciless and you didn’t have an opportunity to think between every new snap of his hips. That knot in your stomach was almost unbearably tight and threatened to snap at any moment. Part of you didn’t want it to, because you didn’t want the moment to end. 

           Your arms grabbed along his back, unable to help but claw lightly at the damp skin. Even in your delirium, you made an effort to avoid any of his injuries. The last thing you wanted to cause Saeran was more pain. Eventually, he had to remove the hand from your mouth in order to support himself better. It was clear that he was also reaching his limit as he panted in the crook of your neck, his thrusts getting even rougher and more vigorous than they had been at the start.

And the angels proclaim

It's a dangerous game!

           Suddenly, and without enough time to warn Saeran, the knot snapped and you orgasmed within him still slamming into you.

‘God!’ you cried, and you truly could have thanked God for the man between your legs right now, ‘S-Saeran, a-ah!’ You choked out between slam, your mind numb to absolutely everything other than the overwhelming pleasure he had brought you. He couldn’t handle the feelings of your walls clenching so aggressively around his cock and almost immediately climaxed at the same time, with barely enough of thought to pull out before he ejaculated. He managed to do it, finishing down the side of your inner thigh rather than inside you. 

‘Fuck-!’ His arms were shaking and his eyes pressed tightly together. His panting and exhaustion were overt and you wanted nothing more than for him to collapse next to you, holding one another until you both passed out. When he opened his eyes again, they were so soft. The icy gaze seemed to have melted into pools of sweet oceans, holding infinite depths of tenderness and affection. No words were needed, you understood one another.

Saeran’s tiredness took over him and he collapsed on the bed next to you and you pressed small kisses against his temple, his cheek and eventually his lips. After a few moments, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You couldn’t stop your heart racing, but it was okay, because you knew your hearts were racing in sync. By the time you had gotten ready for bed, Saeran had already gotten dressed and passed out on the side of the bed. You threw a blanket over him and got into the bed with your chest pressed up against his back, wrapping your arms around him in a silent promise to never let him go. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep and you were lulled into unconsciousness by the sound of his breathing and the quiet drum of his heartbeat. It was probably the best sleep you had had since you’d arrived at Magenta. 

When the morning came, you found you were alone in the bed and feared that Saeran had changed his mind about you. Your hands desperately clawed at his side of the bed. He had left a letter tucked into the bedding for you, with your phone next to it and a spam of messages from the RFA. You’d been reconnected! 

Opening the letter, it read:

            ‘Pack well, but lightly. Be ready, I’ll come and get you.

            Trust me.  - Saeran.’

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

How do you think, if someone is uncomfortable with all things transgender, should they force themselves to engage with such stuff and like it?

This is gonna be pretty long so I'm putting it under the cut.

Anon continued their ask:

I probably should've explained a bit, I'm sorry if this is rude or insensitive. To me, transgenderism (sorry, I don't know a better word) looks like an extreme form of self-harm. I'm not the most educated, of course, but it looks like cutting off healthy parts of the body, constructing new ones which don't work and often bring serious health problems to the table, hormones also seem to wreck one's body and make a person dependant on them for years, there are articles on long-term harm done by puberty blockers. And I can't understand, why people who are obsessed with losing weight are advised to accept their body and psychological therapy, but if you say anything about therapy around a gender question, they will say you are pro-conversion therapy. But it's sex change that is used in some countries as conversion therapy for gay people. People obsessed with losing weight also say things like "it's not my real body, my real body us hidden under these layers of fat". I just don't understand, although I wish I did, and I wish I was wrong, because otherwise if I'm right, it's really sad that self-harm gets so much approved by the society.

Answer:

-Trans people deal with gender dysphoria. People with body image issues and eating disorders usually deal with body dysmorphia. The way to treat these are very very different. Even when it comes to eating disorders and shit the solution isn't just "learn to love yourself as you are." There is a lot of therapy and various things that can help the person feel more in control while they work on feeling worthy of love and support as they are, as well as learning how to love themselves as they are.

-However, when it comes to gender dysphoria, transitioning is the only solution (not necessarily medical). You do get people who think they're trans when they're not. And for them, medically transitioning can and often will cause irreversible damage mentally and physically. That's why you need to talk to a therapist before medically transitioning. To make sure you're confident that you're trans.

-Trans people will often do a social transition BEFORE they do anything medical (if they medically transition at all). This includes: hairstyle changes, outfit changes, getting people to call you by your actual gender and a new name, etc. Things that don't require any sort of medical intervention. This is a really good way to gauge if you're actually trans or if you're just gender non conforming.

-Medically transitioning is a BIG deal. Like you said, it is completely changing your body. It's not something that should be decided on a whim. And it's done in close consultation with doctors to make sure it's still safe. I have to see a doctor every so often and get blood work done just for my hormones to make sure everything is within safe levels. It took a few appointments before I got top surgery scheduled to make sure that I understood exactly how the operation goes, what it mean, am ok that it's irreversible, and am positive I want to go through with it.

-The alternative to medically transitioning is a lot of mental issues. Before transitioning-- even just social transitioning-- I had major issues with disassociation, depersonalizing, depression, and identifying emotions. This is due to the fact that every time I looked in the mirror, saw my closet, was referred to as "she" or my deadname, it was hard to accept that was me. Something was wrong and I didn't know what. My first thought was not that I was trans. I thought I just had body image issues, so I worked on solutions based on that. They didn't do anything but make me feel worse. I explored the idea of being trans by pure chance. I participated in a drag show fund raiser at my university as a drag king and for the first time actually felt like myself. It took a bit to figure out if I just liked drag or if I was trans. But after socially transitioning I was confident that ya, I am trans. That's when I started exploring medically transitioning-- talking a lot about it with my therapist, friends, and family.

Had I not socially or medically transitioned, I don't think I would be nearly as ok as I am now. I am much more comfortable in my body, a lot more aware of my emotions, and I disassociate a lot less. There are some trans people who have committed suicide because they couldn't transition. There are some with other mental health issues that have developed due to untreated gender dysphoria. Medically transitioning is a big deal, and it's not to be treated lightly. But for actual trans people it's not self harm, it's helping them gain back their sense of self. And help them live as their real selves.

-Someone with body image issues saying "the real me is under a buncha fat" isn't the same as a trans person explaining that they aren't their birth gender. They have different issues going on and thus the treatments are going to be different even if the explanations sound similar.

-social media has created a subgroup of people who idolize self harm. There is some really bad parts of Tumblr and other apps where people glamorize it. And ya, it sucks how much it's been normalized in general. It's something that I am glad is being talked about, I just wish it was being talked about as something that requires support and attention, not something to think is neat.

-For the first part of your ask, about avoiding or not avoiding trans topics. I think doing proper research and listening to trans people's stories is a good thing. It's good to get out of your comfort zone. But I don't think you should force yourself to engage with topics that make you too uncomfortable. Especially online. You should be enjoying your online experience, and if you're not, you need to change how you're interacting with the internet. So long as you treat everyone (trans or not) with respect and don't misgender them then there isn't really a big issue. Just being a decent human being and seeing people as they are is really all I think people really want.

-Not proof reading this, so if there are any errors, f it.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐈𝐟 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Boxer!JJ

Requested by anon: Can you write about boxer!JJ, with or without the outer banks’ plot. JJ enjoys boxing and you can’t go to matches because they scare you. But you always prepare with him before and he always comes to see you after. One night something happens and they confess their feelings whatever you want haha I just thought it would be a cool idea (:

Description: After the disappearance of their best friends the pogues all search for different ways to cope. Some working too hard, some fighting, some just blocking it all out. JJ puts himself in danger too often for Y/N’s liking. She finds him an alternative, but in typical JJ fashion he moves too much too fast and gets out in a tricky situation. 

A/N: This is so different from what I normally write. I got a bit carried away per usual:) I chose to put it in the OBX plot, this is all after 1x10 because we all know that I am a sucker for that at this point let's be honest. I tried to do my research but the more I read the more confused I got so I am sorry if it is inaccurate. I have ZERO experience with boxing and stuff. As I said this is so different for me so ANY feedback would be FANTASTIC!! MY asks/requests/messages are always open! ALSO, italics are flashbacks. // TW: This talks about character death, panic/anxiety, abuse, and violence.// 

*pic courtesy of pinterest*  

After the disappearance of John B and Sarah, each of the pogues had their own unique way of dealing with the major loss. The unknown ate them from the inside out until it was turned to grief, washing over them the moment the pair was presumed dead. Over the next few days, they went into denial, finally understanding why John B had been so desperate to hold onto clues about his father when the group had thought that he was grasping at straws. They understood why John B led them on the hunt for the gold because he thought it would lead to his dad. They understood because now they too would follow any lead, risk anything, or go anywhere to find John B and Sarah. 

Each of the Pogues were dealing with their feelings in its respective way. Pope was trying his hardest to prove to his parents that he had not messed up his chance to get off the Island. He applied for every academic scholarship on the east coast. Pope was scared. Kie, while the two of us helped Pope when we could, worked countless hours at the Wreck. After running from her parents and being brought into question with the police she was in hot water with her parents. She allowed herself to stay focused on her work and earn back the trust and respect of her parents so that when the time came that John B and Sarah needed them, we could help. Kie was hopeful. JJ was starting fights with everyone that looked at him wrong. He threw punch after punch at the one boneyard party that we tried to attend in an attempt to make things feel normal. He kept going home and picking fights with his dad, he said that he deserved the torment for letting John B get on that boat. JJ blamed himself for pushing John B to his death. JJ was Angry. I let myself get swept up in my art, going to the docks, or sitting in the dunes, drawing. This where the other Pogues found me when I was not working my shift at the Wreck. When I sat down to create I let my thoughts go and wander to whatever I needed to try and process. This was the only time I let myself think about the things that happened between the pogues, or what was ahead for us. I let myself think about both the options, whether they were dead or they were alive somewhere. Outside of that, I shut it off and tried to help the other pogues, as much as I could, to get back to something normal. I was numb. 

Kie and Pope had a lot to figure out between the two of them. It took them a while to actually begin to talk about what was going on between the two of them since they kept defecting. That left JJ and I alone rather often. Not that I was complaining. The two of us had never been super close when it came to the group. I was always Kie’s best friend first, pogue second, until now. The disappearance had brought all of us closer. Though I appreciated the closeness with JJ, I was worried about him. He showed up on my doorstep night after night bruised and broken. More often than not it was a fight with some rando that has looked at him on the side of the road. JJ didn’t care who felt his wrath anymore, he would fight anyone, kooks, and pogues alike. The worst nights were those that he came back from his house. Those nights were always the worst because the injuries on his body and the way that his soul sat shattered in front of me told me that he didn’t fight back. 

JJ was sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes not daring to look up at me. His face covered in red splotches and bruised from the other fights he had gotten in over the week. Tonight was different though. Normally JJ talked about the way that he handed the Kook a can of whoop-ass or the guy had it coming and that he had ‘totally won’ the fight. Every other night he would boast saying “Y/N, don’t worry about me! You should see the other guy.” He would try to soothe my nerves, but tonight there didn’t seem to be another guy. Just JJ fighting himself, the thoughts raging war in his head, making him beat himself up. 

I moved to sit beside him. Finally deciding to break the rooms heavy silence. “JJ, did you go home again?” 

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly nodded his head. I saw his jaw clenched as he fought back the urge to let tears fall down his face. He rested his head in his open palms. I wrapped one of my arms loosely around the boy before laying my head on his shoulder. “Why do you go home JJ? Every time you come back you end up so broken?” 

“It’s just a few bruises and split lips Y/N, nothing I’m not used to.” He said shaking his head. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” I spoke. I moved my hand so that I could rub his back. I moved softly up and down his spine, trying to comfort the broken boy in front of me. 

“I deserve everything he says to me.” He started, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Every time

 I go I know he’s ready for a fight.” 

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath before speaking. “JJ, getting into fights with your dad like that, the things he says to you.” I paused, looking over his face, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. “You know that they aren’t true right? He’s saying those things to hurt you?” 

“I know that, but deep down I’m so scared that everyone else sees what he sees.” He signed leaning back and falling onto the bed. “I’m just so angry. I am angry at the system for screwing up so bad that they ran JB away.” My breath caught in my throat as he began his rant. “I am mad that we couldn’t do anything to help him after his dad left. I’m mad that we lost him and have no way to contact him or even know if he’s alive!’ He stood up beginning to pace, and raising his voice. “I’m mad that I pushed him on that boat to sail straight to his death Y/N!” 

I stood up on my feet, moving so that I can be in his direct line of vision. “Hey!” I called to him, even though he was right in front of me, he felt a thousand miles away. “You did not push John B to do anything that he would not have done on his own! You have got to stop blaming yourself for all the unfortunate events that lead to John B’s disappearance. This on Ward Cameron and you know it!” I said pointing at him. He locked his eyes with mine for a moment. 

He ripped his glance from mine, his jaw still clenched and nostrils flaring as he tried to even out his breathing. It took a few moments and several paces across the length of my room, but he seemed to calm down. “I’m-” He started, looking around the room and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m just so angry. All the time.” He confessed. “I’m honestly scared, it’s like all I can think about is how pissed off I am and the smallest things just add on top of it until I explode for what seems like no reason.” He stopped rubbing his hands over his face. “I just don’t know how to channel it, make it die down.” He confessed, moving to join me back at the end of my bed. 

“You know, whenever my brother is upset he goes to the gym-” I started 

“You are not seriously telling me to work out right now, are you?” He huffed rolling his eyes.

  “Let me finish.” I scolded him before continuing. “He’s a boxer, the have matches and fight, but it is in a safe environment. One where you can let your anger out with out going home or exploding on some rando on the side of the street.” I said. I laughed awkwardly, trying to fill the silence as I gauged his reaction. 

“You really think that would help?” He said, the softness in his eyes returning. 

“It helped my brother” 

It had become routine over the past few weeks that JJ came to my house so that I could help him prepare for whatever match he had lined up for that night. When he first started all the Pogues were supportive of JJ’s new interest, but after the first match, Kie and I decided that we would support him from afar. Neither of us could stomach the blows that JJ took in his first fight. I was happy that he was able to find a more acceptable outlet for his anger, it was still just as painful to clean JJ up after, or to hear from Pope about the hits that JJ landed or had taken. Pope always attended, Kie and I chalked it up to him being a boy and into that stuff, but we both know that he watched because he wanted to be there in case something went wrong. 

Tonight was one of JJ’s biggest matches. He had been talking about it for weeks. The guy was from the mainland and was supposed to drag in a huge audience with him. He was being scouted as a professional, bordering on going pro. That bothered me because it had only been a short time since JJ had started boxing. While he had grown up his entire life fighting, boxing against people like this was much different than landing a few punches on Topper. 

JJ was sitting on my kitchen table, I was right in front of him with his left hand in my own. I wrapped the sticky red tape around his hands, knuckles, and wrists. I pulled it tighter after each pass around his hand. “Please be careful tonight. These guys got a really good record.” I spoke softly, but the concern coating my voice was evident. 

“I think I’ve got it though Y/N!” He said, happiness coating his voice. I just shook my head and switched his hands, beginning to wrap the right one. I was weary when JJ first mentioned the idea of the match, and still am, because the guy was well known and it just did not make sense that he wanted to come down to the OBX to fight a Newby. Things didn’t add up. Of course, none of us dared to tell JJ, because he was so happy, and he finally seemed to be getting back normal, no one wanted to set him off. 

I finished wrapping his hands and handed him his gym shorts. I had got him some with his name on the waistband for his birthday the week before. While I couldn’t stomach to sit through the fights and watch them, I wanted him to know that I was supportive of him finding a healthy outlet for his feelings and grief. I had washed the shorts for him so that they would be fresh for him. 

“All done.” I smiled, handing them to him. He took them into his newly wrapped hands. “So you look all spiffy when you win the fight tonight.” 

“Spiffy?” He questioned causing us both to laugh. He reached forward pulling me into a hug. Whenever I touched JJ I melted into the warmth that his body gave off. He smelled like pine, I assumed it was from his deodorant, but it captivated me every time. He let me go after squeezing me tighter. “Thanks for, you know.” He said scratching the back of his neck. “Helping me with all of this. I wouldn’t even be doing this if it weren’t for you.” He said with a smile. 

“Stop being so sappy Maybank!” I said and I turned him to the door. I put my hands on his broad shoulder pushing him softly towards the door. “Now go! You don’t want to be late.” He made his way to the door opening it and standing for a second to look back and smile. 

“I’ll see you after right?” He questioned, the hope in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“Wouldn’t want anyone else cleaning you up would we?” I joked, before answering him. “Yes I will, just make sure Pope tells me when you're finishing up and I’ll head that way to pick you up okay?” As I finished the car horn outside honked. It seemed to reverberate off the walls. “Now go! You know how Kie gets when you're running late!” I shooed him out the door. I stood watching them back out of the driveway as I waved to Kie and Pope in the car. 

I walked to the TV, flipping it onto a random TV show before grabbing my sketchbook and settling into the couch. I had been working on a piece of a deer skull and a floral pattern. I was using ink to draw it. I got lost in stippling the dots on the paged, shading in the sides of the skull, and forming the cracked texture of the bone. I barely noticed the buzzing that came from my phone beside me. When I looked up the sun was setting, almost disappearing behind the horizon. The name flashed across my phone and sent me into an immediate panic. “Popey” was read across the screen, my stomach dropping when I set my eyes on the time. It was way too soon for the fight to be over. I quickly slide my finger across the bottom of the screen, seeing it click open. 

I held the phone to my ear, “Hello, Pope? What’s wrong?” I could hear the panic in my voice. My body was moving so fast as I swiped my keys across the counter with a screech, and started through the garage to my car. 

“Y/N.” I hear him say on my way out the door. There was pause filled with chants and yelling in the background, signaling that the fight was still happening. “Things don’t look good, Kie’s on her way, but JJ needs you to be here when he gets out.” I was nodding my head, but Pope couldn’t see me. “If he gets out.” My breath stopped in my throat, making me choke slightly on my own air. “ Y/N it’s bad, I don’t know why they won’t call the fight.” 

I let out a shaky breath as I pulled myself into the driver seat of my car, slamming the door behind me with a thud. “I’ll be there as fast as I can Pope, Promise.” 

“Hurry!” was all he said before the line went static. I pulled the phone down slowly, looking at it. JJ was really hurt. It was my fault, I wanted him to do this professionally. I snapped myself out of my guilty haze, picking my keys up from my lap with my shaking hands. I struggled to get the key into the ignition, before turning it to start it up. I turned out of the driveway as quickly as my mind would let me, leaving a cloud of dust behind me as pulled from the driveway. 

I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb, my eyes flicking between the road and the number growing on the speedometer. The words of JJ and I’s conversation from just hours before replaying over and over in my head. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” Over and over again. I felt a warmth fall down my cheek. I touched my hand to my cheek only to find the warm wetness of tears falling from my eyes. I was shocked at the reaction that this event had on me. I felt like I was back to the night that we watched John B drive off on that boat. I felt that same sense of panic wash over me. What if this was it? “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” JJ was a fighter, literally, no matter what punches were thrown at him, he was always able to fight back. Part of me wanted to think rationally that Pope was overreacting and when I got there JJ might have a concussion and a bruised ego. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” If it was that bad why had they not stopped the fight, right? Pope had to be overreacting, it was Pope. He likes to be careful. 

My fingers kept tapping a quick pace on the back of the I kept telling myself that over and over in my head. I was driving but everything around me was a blur. I was glad that I had the roads of the cut memorized so that I could get there in my haze of worry. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” I know what he meant by this, he meant that I had helped him, but I just didn’t feel helpful at that moment. I was the reason that he was fighting and trained a skillful fighter. This guy hardly ever lost a fight, but none of us wanted JJ’s improvement with his anger to stop, so we let him continue. 

I hit the pothole in the gyms driveway, jolting me out of my thoughts. I fell back into the seat from the rough jump and dirt that was kicked up around me once again. I pulled into a spot at a dangerous speed. I practically threw the car in park and yanked my keys from the ignition. The sun seemed to paint the air around us a beautiful shade of orange, but my worry made me look past the beautiful sunset that was illustrated in the sky. Instead I approached the gym. I hadn’t stepped foot in for months now. The one that was seemingly making my worst fears come to life. 

I scanned the parking lot looking for Kie. When our eyes met, I started making my way toward her. I broke into a jog, but quickly came to a halt, when I looked behind her. The red and white lights behind her become blinding. I stuttered stepped, coming face to face with her, but I could not look at her face. I was focused on the broken boy that was laid in front of me on a gurney. The blood on his face made him almost unrecognizable. I clenched my teeth so hard that I hurt. Pope was by his side, struggling to keep up with the boy on the gurney. Pope’s worried eyes met with mine that barely held back the tears. He said something that I couldn’t make out before pointing to us. I followed my eyes down to JJ, who’s eyes I met. Even from this distance, I could see the spark still in them. I felt my stomach drop and a wave of nausea hit me. I felt myself physically fall back and feel weak. He weekly raised his hand to wave at me weakly before they began wheeling him into the emergency vehicle. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.”  My arm felt like my shaking hand to wave at him, The barrier broke and the warm tears fell down my face. I felt the sob make it way up my throat, catching Kie’s attention once again. Her expression was a little shocked at my reaction but wrapped an arm around me pulling me into her. I glanced over to see her worried expression as she watched Pope.

Pope quickly made his way over to us after talking briefly with the medics. As soon as he was turned away from JJ, his expression turned to anger. Kie and I looked at each other, both silently questioning the boy’s actions. He got to us, visibly angry, his breath was heavy as he started walking back and forth. He threw his hat on the ground and ran a hand across his head in distress. 

“What happened there?” Kie said being the first to break the tension. 

“We shouldn’t have let him fight that guy!” He said, raising his voice making me visibly flinch. “There’s a reason that he always wins! He knocked JJ out in the 7th round!” He spoke looking me straight in the eye. I felt two inches tall and wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” 

I stepped back, it felt the air had been knocked out of my lungs. I heard the conversation that Pope and Kie continued to have, but they still felt miles away. I tried to listen and regain the ability to breathe. 

“He had plaster in his gloves” Pope spoke loudly, as people walking outta the gym snickered, only making Pope’s anger grow. I snapped my head up at the tall boy, before looking at Kie, whose face held a confused expression. I knitted my eyebrows looking at Pope who just nodded, silently reinforcing his last statement. 

“They caught on, but I’m gonna go back to talk to the fight manager, but y’all should go and meet him at the hospital.” He said, looking between me and Kiara. 

Kie was quick to act, while I felt like I was still frozen in place. “Here,” she said, holding her keys out to Pope. “I’ll ride with Y/N and you can meet us there after you talk to whoever you need to?” She questioned, but she had alright dropped the keys in his hand. Pope nodded at the two of us before turning back to the gym. 

I looked at Kie just as she placed her shaking hand on my wrist pulling me to the car. “Are you okay to drive? I mean do you think-” He started to mumble on. 

“Yea, yea. I can. I think I got it.” I said send her a tight lipped smile. I could tell in her eyes that she knew neither of us believed me. Nonetheless, we both got into the car and made our way to a small emergency hospital on the Island, both of us praying that they had enough space for JJ. The entire car ride was filled with silent, sad, tension. The two of us stuck in our own thoughts, filled with worries about JJ’s health. Kie was the first to break the car’s heart-wrenching tension. 

“What did Pope mean, when he said that he had plaster in his gloves?” Kie asked. She hadn’t been privy to the boxing world, much like me. My brother had told me that it was illegal. He knew a kid that got kicked out of his gym for doing it and had told me about it. 

“It’s when boxer’s wrap plaster in their wraps and gloves and stuff.” I started, I stuttered over my words a bit, because I was unsure of what I was talking about. “As they sweat it makes the plaster harden or something,” I said shaking my head. The image of JJ getting hit over and over without a chance to fight back made me push the accelerator down and speed up on the long stretch to the hospital. “It essentially makes their hands like stone,” I said recalling the words my brother had used to tell me. 

Kiara looked over at me with wide eyes. “That’s seriously fucked up!” She exclaimed. She let out a deep sign before falling back into the passenger seat. The rest of the ride remained silent, except for the news that was faintly being spoken from the radio. 

When we pulled up to the hospital, it was all a blur from there. Kie could tell that I was worried and in a state of panic. She seemed to be rather calm about the situation, because of this she took the lead on speaking to the front desk. They pointed us to a waiting room saying that the doctor would come out after they examined him. 

We sat in the cold metal chair in the waiting room. I tried to blame my shaking on the chill air that seemed to always be contained in hospitals, but I knew it was nerves. Kie placed her hand on my bouncing leg to stop it before looking up at me. 

“Hey, It’s JJ.” She said moving to hold my hand in hers, giving me a soft smile. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach, alright?” 

I laughed slightly at her joke, looking up to her with a hopeful smile on her face. “You’re oddly calm.” I stated, looking over her relaxed figure, slightly laid back in the chair, her hand resting still on the chair handle, the other firmly grasped in mine. 

“Eh, like it said, JJ’s gonna be fine.” She smiled. She leaned forward a bit, resting her weight on the armrest that sat between us. “I am more interested in what is going on inside your head?” She said nudging me with her shoulders. 

I took a deep breath, my eyes lining with tears once again. “Over the last few months JJ and I have gotten so close, and after everything with John B and Sarah I just-” I was cut off by a sob, which came out more like a cough. Kie was quick to move her hand to my back, rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. “I am scared to lose him too.” I said quietly, tears falling still, but at a much less rapid pace. Kiara pulled me into a tight hug. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of her coconut shampoo ground me. I closed my arms around her tightly before we split. Kie pushed a piece of hair out of my face softly. 

“You’ve got it bad.” She said with a soft chuckle. I looked at her knitting my eyebrows together in confusion causing her to laugh. “You and JJ are so blindly in love with each other that neither of you can see it.” She spoke. Suddenly, things started to make a lot of sense. The way that my stomach dropped whenever JJ was getting into a fight or how I wanted to end Luke Maybank for the things that he did to his son. The most important thing that I had become accustomed to was the way that my stomach erupted in butterflies every time we were close to each other, the way my skin broke into goosebumps when we bumped into each other, or the way that I smiled every time he cracked a joke or showed up at work. I played with my fingers letting a smile spread across my face.I looked up at Kie sheepishly. 

“I told you.” She smiled at me, causing me to roll my eyes at her. 

We were taken from the serenity of our moment by the doctor calling for those that were here with ‘Maybank.” She informed us that JJ took a lot of hard hits but managed to leave fairly unscathed from such a brutal fight. She let us know that JJ had had a lot of minor injuries, a broken lower rib, and that he passed out due to a pretty serious concussion. It took Kie and I a moment to soak in the abundance of information. “With his current state, we think it would be best if you all went in one at a time.” The doctor spoke, looking between you and Kie. 

Kie pushed my shoulder lightly. “I’ll wait here for Pope and fill him in. “She said, a cheesy smile plastering her face. “Go get your man,” She joked causing me to roll my eyes before following the doctor back through the long hallway. The fluorescent lighting made the hallway look and feel more daunting than it should have. The doctor stopped in front of the room letting me know that he was inside. 

I smiled and nodded at her. I took a deep breath before preparing myself to enter. I walked through the doorway to see JJ playing with the IV cable that was hooked up to his arm. I was wrapped and tangled around the opposite hand. I laughed involuntarily at the blonde boys antics. He looked up at me, smiling when he realized that it was me. I felt a tsunami of relief wash over me, just seeing that, while he wasn’t completely unharmed, that he was going to be okay. 

“There you are, come here!” He said patting the bed beside his legs. I walked into the room slowly, making my way to his bedside. I sat down and turned to look at his bright, smiling face. He scanned over my face, his smile quickly fading. “Wait, are you crying? “ He asked, reaching up to wipe the stale tears from my face. 

“Yes JJ,” I said laughing at the boy's oblivious nature. “You looked terrible when they took you out on that gurney at the gym,” I said looking down at the crinkled white bed sheet in front of the two of us. “You scared me. I can’t lose you too.” I said quietly. 

JJ hand came up once again cupping the side of my face, pushing me to look at me. “Hey now. You know better than anyone that it's gonna take more than some cheating ring rat to take me out.” Both of us laughed at the statement. I met his bright blue eyes, and instantly felt drawn in. 

I didn’t think much about it before I did it. I leaned forward and pressed my lips into JJ's. The kiss started off still and innocent. JJ’s hand moved from my face to the back of my head pulling me in closer. I moved my hands to his shoulders, placing them softly trying not to hurt him. The kiss was passionate and heated, our lips molding together, allowing us to melt into one another. I felt light headed just from the kiss itself. I could feel JJ’s emotion poured into the way that he kissed me back and the way that his hands caressed my sides and the way that he held me close to him. 

We were interrupted by the loud beeping of the monitor beside him. I pulled away looking at the machine that ruined the moment. The warning flashing “High Heart Rate”. I looked at JJ and saw the same warning causing us to laugh slightly. 

“What was that about?” JJ asked, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

“After John B and Sarah I thought I would have learned that time is finite, but I guess it took you, at least in my mind, almost dying for me to realize that I should just say something,” I said, laughing nervously. “Oh and Kie made me realize just how in love with you I am” I spoke rolling my eyes before realizing what I said. I felt my face heat up, as I looked over at JJ with wide eyes trying to gauge his reaction. 

JJ grabbed my hand. Struggling slightly because of the awkward tangled IV that was stuck in the back of his hand. He huffed as he tugged at it trying to pull it out of the way. His hand was wrapped around mine when he started speaking. “You know, I’m glad she did because I’ve been in love with you all summer.”

Masterlist

Tagging b/c I asked:) @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @write-from-the-heart​ @jjmaybanksbaby​ @kikifromtheblock​

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 24

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Fluffity romanceness

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 24: Several Plans Later

The days passed by languidly, but not quite peacefully. There was always an edge, an anxiety in the back of your mind, reminding you this was only temporary. You were in the eye of a hurricane and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the storm hit.

It had been awkward that first day, at least from your perspective. The first thing you had remembered upon waking up was falling asleep on the chest of Boba Fett. He was no longer in the bed with you, and the thought of him having to pry himself from your clinging form at some point made you quite embarrassed. And when he'd eventually come to you, helping you up to stretch and giving you food, but only asking a few questions to gauge your pain before falling into silence, you were absolutely mortified. Had you been too bold? Was the kiss you shared even as special as you remembered? Maybe you'd thrown yourself at him in a tired delusion and now he was just trying to be polite?

But soon enough, you realized that moment had meant something to him... that you meant something to him. The time for bold declarations had passed, and now he was showing you his feelings. It was subtle, but so was everything else about him.

You saw it in the way he handled you as you began to test out your strength, placing a supportive hand where needed but never preventing you from taking the steps yourself. You saw it as he let you contribute to the plans he was crafting for your meeting with the Empire. And every so often, if you were quick enough, you'd catch it in his face when he thought you weren't looking... a softness among his otherwise tense features, a slight smile in his lips, a glow in his eyes. Knowing that you alone could put him at ease gave you the spark you needed to get better.

It had now been a few weeks since, full of resting and exercising and planning. The Slave I was in deep space, far from any travel routes. Only once had he taken the ship to get supplies, another scruffy outer rim planet full of thugs and outlaws. But even there, word of Boba Fett's bounty had traveled, and a small group of bandits had tried taking you. They'd been much easier to shake off than your other hunters, but neither one of you were willing to risk coming out of space like that again.

More encouraging, however, was the progress of your recovery. Your wrists were now scarring and could be moved about with only minimal stiffness. The cut on your cheek, as well as the various bruises you'd accumulated around your body, had disappeared. And you could not only walk without limping, but you'd also began to workout at Boba's insistence. They were simple exercises, just enough to help you be agile in case another fight were to ensue. He didn't like the thought of you caught in such a struggle again, but he accepted it was a possibility and wanted you to be prepared.

You had just finished your workout for the day, settling yourself onto a crate in the cargo hold to catch your breath. This was where most of Boba's planning took place, complete with maps and diagrams strewn across the floor. Some days you found it fascinating; it was like taking a peek inside the inner workings of his mind. But other days, like today, you didn't have the patience to sit through another run-down of variables. Some questions seemed impossible to answer, you reckoned, so why not just dive in and deal with whatever happens then?

"What is this, our tenth back-up plan now?" you asked, finishing off your canteen of water.

Boba was standing across from you with arms folded, frowning at what seemed to you like a mess on the floor. He only looked up briefly with an unamused grunt.

You hadn't kissed him since that first time in his bunk. You were mostly okay with taking this new aspect of your relationship with him slowly, but it was times like this you wished you had the guts to saunter over and plant one on him, just to get him to relax a bit.

Instead, you played it safe, wanting him to make the first move when he was ready, and settled for another quip. "You should probably put your helmet back on if you're going to scowl like that. It's not nice to look at."

That seemed to do the trick. He sighed and rubbed at his face, as if trying to wipe away the worry and tension that had gathered there. "Sorry. I just... get caught up sometimes."

"I know," you shrugged. You pushed yourself further back on the crate to rest your back against the wall. "So how many more possibilities do you need to exhaust before we can actually do something? I think that first plan we came up with is fine."

He squatted down to fiddle with some of the things on the floor. "If it's fine, it isn't good enough."

You suppressed a groan and he gave you a knowing look. "What? I've gotten better now, stronger. I'm ready to go. You know I am."

"Yes, which is why these plans are important. You..." he hesitated, unsure if you'd appreciate what he had to say. "You have a tendency to leap without looking. I'm just trying to be your eyes for you and cover your back."

You opened your mouth, wanting to say something in your defense, but closed it when you couldn't think of anything. He was right.

"Also..." he started to say. He was toying with a pile of metal he'd clipped from a grate and shaped into little rings. They'd symbolized various parts of his plans, from people to ships to planets. What the pile of them was supposed to be in this plan, you weren't sure, but you watched as his fingers deftly twirled them around, waiting for him to continue.

"What?" you had to eventually urge him on. He seemed suspiciously shy all of a sudden, like he had been when he'd confessed his feelings for you.

"I know you said you're doing this for closure. But I can't help but wonder if a part of you is also wanting... revenge?"

There was weight to the word as he said it, like he understood just how poisonous and all-consuming it really was to hold onto. You'd been wrestling with the idea every day since you'd heard the Empire had invaded your home. You didn't want revenge, but you didn't not want it, either.

"My father was killed when I was young. Right in front of me. The man responsible was praised as a hero and I wanted nothing more than for him to meet the same fate." He shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. "I sought vengeance and was blinded by it. I trusted people who hurt me. I pushed away others who wanted to help. I wasted so much of my life."

You were surprised by his openness, realizing this was the first time you'd learned something meaningful about his past. The urge to go to him, to shower him with affection, grew stronger, but you didn't want to overwhelm him while he was so vulnerable.

"Did you do it?" you asked, matching the quietness of your voice with his. "Kill the man that killed your father?"

Boba finally let his eyes meet yours. His mouth quirked up. "No. An old friend talked me out of it."

Hondo. You nodded your head, though the fact didn't quite help you understand their weird dynamic any better.

Boba crawled closer to you. "I don't want you to get caught up in the same mistakes I did. Especially when you have other things to fight for."

He took hold of one of your bare feet, still smiling slightly.

"What are you doing?" you looked down at him, puzzled.

He still had one of the little metals rings in his hand and was now slipping it onto your toe. It wasn't exactly like the toe ring you'd mysteriously lost, but he had remembered the detail, even amongst all your bickering, and that's what made it special.

"One for your old life," he whispered, kissing the top of the foot with your gold ring. He then moved to kiss the other foot, with his new ring for you. "And one for your new life."

He shot you a shy smile, looking for you to react somehow. But you were having a hard time getting your emotions out. You wanted to blush and smile and cry and laugh all at once. So instead you sat there with your mouth slack, staring at him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, now worried.

There was only thing you could think to do. Abandoning your previous intent to take things slow, you surged forward, gripping the sides of his head and pulling his mouth to yours. You kissed him hard and fast and passionate. He was caught off guard at first, but eventually got his wits about him and kissed you back with equal fervor. It was sloppy and chaotic, but it was wonderful.

It became clear that while you had been waiting for him to make a move, he'd been doing the same, both of you unsure how to progress with such a change in relationship. But now that you'd broken past the uncertainty, you knew moments like these would be plentiful going forward.

He managed to rise slightly from the floor while keeping his lips locked with yours. He leaned into you briefly and then slid his hands under your thighs, pulling you up to rest against his hips as he stood fully. You wrapped your legs around his waist and broke the kiss for air.

Your forehead rested against his as the two of you caught your breaths. You looked into his eyes, soft and brown and beautiful. "It's more than okay," you breathed, answering the question he'd already forgotten. You laughed at the confused crease that formed in between his eyes, leaning back enough to bring your thumb up to run along it. "It's perfect."

The smile, the grin, he gave you made your heart skip a few beats. You kissed him again, more chaste this time, but still eager. He ate up each little peck of your lips, letting you drop to the floor so he could run his hands through your hair as well.

You pulled away again, locking your fingers behind his head. "You're right," your mouth just by his so you could feel his breath. "I have so much more to fight for."

He continued to fondly comb his fingers through the strands of your hair. You didn't realize he was such a fan of it, even when it was messy from your workout and lack of a proper shower. He leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"And you're right, too," he said, pulling your head to rest against his chest. "It's time to stop planning and actually fight now."

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

What do you think Napoleon would feel about the Le Pens? Like I know he’d hate their guts but the extent 👀

God fuck the Le Pens. I feel dirty thinking about them. (Though weirdly funny that Marine kicked her dad out of FN. Like you know you’re too deep down the rabbit hole of fuckery when Marine kicks you out. [and yeah, of course it’s all part of her image cleaning up gimmick. Wherein I’m sure she thinks the same as him, but is trying to “soften” the image of the party. And, based on the last election, it’s working. So that’s horrifying.]) All this to say: fuck the Le Pens; white supremacy etc. 

Anyway - assuming we’re still going for “Napoleon from 1815 woke up August 22, 2020″ base for our thought experiments here. 

Overall, yeah he’d think them short sighted, idiotic, and would probably have some elegant-yet-crude insults for them in Corsican. Let us take a brief, and not at all comprehensive, stroll down the Le Pens (and FN by default)’s terrible policies. Then I can scrub my brain out because they are absolutely foul people. 

behind a cut because it’s long. 

Economics: First off, Napoleon and I are the same in that we neither know anything about economics. He did not have a firm grasp on how the economy worked. Which I sympathise with, because it seems very fake and made up. 

Anyway, he did a lot of modernization, raised taxes, created a lot of public works programs to stimulate the economy and improve connectivity (gotta build all the roads and canals. Actually though, as a public infrastructure keener, I support this). He did lay the foundation for the centralized bank of France. (Something Biddle would get all hot and bothered over. Nothing sexier than centralized banks.)

Napoleon also introduced a whole loan system for businesses to try and keep them afloat and improve local industry. He was keen on protecting property rights, um, tried to regulate the currency to protect it against inflation. Idk, he did other things that I’m not going to get into. 

Comparing Napoleon’s hot economic takes from 1815 to 2020? A bit hard. So I’m going to guestimate on this. 

I think, once he understood how the world functions now, he would be pro-globalization and the various free trade agreements that are in place (CETA, PCAs etc). He might disagree with details therein, but the broad philosophy is one I think he’d support. 

I don’t know if he would be pro-single currency. I suspect he might be anti-the Euro, while still supporting the broad intents of the EU. 

He would support a strong public sector - so government controlled postal service, utilities, schools etc. In that, and the anti-Euro view, he would align with Marine, at least. Not sure about her POS father. 

No idea what his views on the Havana Charter would be. Probably mixed. 

EU: I’ve touched on this before, I think Napoleon would be pro-EU, over all. He’d just think France should be the hegemonic power. Why isn’t France making all the decisions? This is dumb. Who does Germany think they are? Etc. Therefore, he would disagree with the Le Pens who think the EU is the anti-christ and the cause of everything bad that ever happened in France (I exaggerate, but they do blame the EU for a lot of things so you know, it’s not that much of a stretch).

Immigration: This is where they would diverge significantly. Like apples and moldy toast kind of different. I’ve touched on Napoleon’s immigration policy before, so I’m not going to wade into it again. But yeah, needless to say Napoleon would be like “let everyone come. They want to come to France? They are French. More is better. The end.” 

The only thing is, he was very pro-assimilation. Not really into the “patchwork quilt” approach to the philosophy (and implementation) of multiculturalism. Which, to be fair, is a very modern view and not something I would expect anyone from 1815 to agree with, or consider a general good approach to dynamic, multicultural societies. 

But yeah, the Le Pens whole moratorium on immigration, hatred of anyone foreign, that would be an anathema to Napoleon. He would vehemently disagree with that stance. Napoleon believed alloys were stronger. You took different people, boiled them down, and melded them into a unified French identity. That was his Hot Take on the matter. Again, pro-assimilation, which is an inherently conservative stance by 21st century standards, but a very average stance by early 19th century standards. His immigration and citizenship views were overall liberal for the time. 

Indeed, the whole creation of a unified French identity was in its infancy during his life. He contributed heavily to it, but for his lifetime, identity was strongly linguistic and regional. You’re Gascon before you’re French, you’re Basque before you’re either French or Spanish, that sort of thing. 

And of course, his views on this were heavily informed by his own experience and identity as a Frenchman and how it was received, or not, by his own people, as well as other monarchs and countries. (Tsar Alexander liked to brag that he spoke better French than the Emperor of France. And I believe the Times once called Napoleon a “Mediterranean mongrel.” Charming. So, he had a fun and exciting adventure in European class, ethnic and racial politics of the early 19th century.)

Napoleon would also disagree with the Le Pens that citizenship and nationality are indivisible. He was into the whole “if you decide you are French then you are French, no matter which side of the Rhine you were born on”. 

Secularism: They’d actually probably mostly agree on this. In that religion has no part or place in government and there should be a clear and strong separation of church and state. 

The banning of religious clothing, though, I don’t think Napoleon would support that. I would argue that he’d think it infringed on personal rights too much, and he was keen on protecting those. Like, his policy towards integrating France’s Jewish population was to try and assimilate them, yes, because he viewed everything as being consumed by the monolith that was the French Empire. But he wasn’t like “no wearing a tallit or kippah.”

Abortion: Guys, Napoleon is a culturally Catholic man from 1815 who thought women’s crowing jewel were her children and that France really needed to increase its overall population. I think we can all figure out what his views on abortion would be. Marine is pro-legality of abortion, but she personally is like “it’s eViL and a serious MoRaL IsSuE” etc. 

Gay Rights: Napoleon’s whole political approach was to bring in the people on the margins and normalize them (assimilate; one of us, one of us) as a means to increase the base of the population who would support him. As he viewed marriage as a strictly secular, civil ceremony, and not a religious one, there could be a possibility of slowly talking him around to it. That said, he also viewed marriage as a declaration of intent to make many babies (for his army). I don’t think he’d be pro-queer couples adopting, no matter what. So, who knows. 

That said, he wasn’t like “lock up the gays”. And as gay marriage is established in France currently, I don’t know if he’d be pro-abolition since it’s mostly a popular/accepted law and he was all about that sweet, sweet public approval rating. 

So if he came around to it, it wouldn’t be for altruistic reasons. At the same time, he wouldn’t be like “make it illegal”. He was very “w/e just show up to work on time Cambaceres, jesus.” (Cambaceres: It’s midnight, sire. This isn’t normal work hours. Napoleon: SAYS WHO???) 

Women in Politics: Well he’s obviously 100% against that. Ladies belong at home with the bebes. Le Pens, obviously, aren’t. Though Jean, I think, is like Trump where he’s pro his daughter being in politics (until she chucked him out of FN), but he would expect his wife to be a Proper Housewife. That weird conservative man thing about the role of wives and daughters. 

-

There’s my fly-over guestimation of Napoleon v Le Pens

It’s very, very hard to figure out what Napoleon, a man born in 1769 and died in 1821, would think about politics, economics and society in 2020. I tried to gauged based on his broad, philosophical views and how he acted as ruler. But he was also someone who was very analytical and would be capable of understanding the world as it is today and the realities that are in place. He might find them off putting or bizarre (ladies as heads of states?? what about your children??) but he was an imminently pragmatic man who would look at a situation and go “alright, this is the reality of the system and society I am now in” and would adjust himself accordingly. 

In the end, trying to figure out how a man from 1815 would react to today’s politics is very difficult, if not outright impossible. His understanding of what liberal meant, what conservative meant, etc. were so different to our understanding that I would never place him in one camp. He had changing, dynamic views, and that would be reflected in his understanding of politics in 2020. 

Overall, I think he would disagree with a lot of the stances of the Le Pens. Would he hate them? No. Because Napoleon didn’t really hate people based on their political views. He saw too much of the Revolution to go for extreme personal reactions to political stances; also he was too much a pragmatist and understood that you never know who might be an ally in the future. 

Napoleon might look down on the Le Pens, he might find them personally disgusting, he might view them as stupid (honestly, he’d probably just think they’re dumb and quickly move on), but he wouldn’t hate them. 

-

Because this is tumblr, I must now declare my political stance because I was too calm in most of that assessment. 

1. Fuck the Le Pens & Front Nationale 

2. Nationalism is spooky and I am always suspect when it comes up in political discourse in the year of our lord 2020 

3. I am bi and non-binary, which isn’t actually a political stance (or a personality), but tumblr is Like That so I thought I’d include it. 

4. I support: lgbtq rights; trans rights; universal health care; easy and open access to education; improved access to education at primary school levels (because that’s a huge impact on people); ACAB; separation of church and state; prison reform/some form of abolishment - I’m still thinking through my views on this and how it should be approached; land back; Aboriginal and Treaty Rights; immigration; no more kids in cages jesus christ; don’t drink bleach; democracy is good, punch fascists etc. etc. 

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 14

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,526 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Also on ff.net and AO3.

Lies, lies, lying little beast Lying little man on the corner of the street Singing "Why, I can't come out to play Can't come out and say that I'm afraid of what they'll say"

-Run River North, "Lying Beast"

————————–

Then.

Stephanie walked purposefully down the dormitory hallway towards her destination, which she had learned of through Cass after the other had shockingly announced she was now… “involved” with someone and asked point-blank for her advice.  Steph had been surprised (not to mention maybe a tad jealous) that she had been granted visitation rights before her – especially when she herself wasn’t even sure if she had reached an official “dating” stage yet with her suitor- er, tutor (although they had undergone several “study sessions” together by this point) – but nevertheless was happy for her roommate.  …Besides, her profile’s “single” status would hopefully change today.

Checking her hair and outfit, she nervously fixed and fidgeted a little in front of the doorway, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the entry.  After a moment, it slowly creaked open a crack to reveal a rather confused-looking Tim.

“Steph?  What are you doing here?”

“Hey!  I just came to ask you something quick, if you’re not too busy.”  She beamed her best and brightest.

Tim’s eyes darted anxiously aside as he swallowed.

“Uh, now’s not really a great time…”

“Who’s that, Tim?  A friend of yours?”

Stephanie blinked as a stunningly beautiful woman unexpectedly emerged from behind Tim, ravishing red locks and coquettish lips smiling cordially.

“Ah, you must be Stephanie! Tim’s told me a lot about you.”

Steph’s gaze shifted suspiciously to Tim, who looked like his world had just come crashing down around him.

“…Has he now?”

The stranger grinned widely as she extended her slender palm, revealing twin rows of perfect pearl teeth.

“I’m Barbara Gordon. Pleasure to meet you.”

Tentatively, Steph took it.

“...Nice to meet you. Wait, ‘Gordon’ – as in the new Police Commissioner?”

The woman nodded.

“Bingo, you’re looking at her.”  Her voice abruptly took on an authoritative tone.  “I’m here on official police business, conducting a top-secret investigation.  You wouldn’t happen to have seen any suspicious individuals around, would you?”

“Babs,” Tim cut in sharply as Steph started to sweat and panic.  “That’s enough.  Quit frightening her.”  (Although rather than relieve her apprehension, it only increased further at such informal address.)

…On a first-name basis?

“Kidding, kidding. I’m giving a guest lecture on Criminology over in the West Wing.  Speaking of which,” Barbara glanced at her wristwatch, “I should probably get going. Class starts in 10 minutes.  I just came by to say ‘hi’ to Tim.”

She began to gather up her things, bustling out the exit with a wink to Tim on the way, who only winced and shrank further in response.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone.  Take care, Tim.  I’ll stop by again some other time.”

Steph watched her figure’s wake until it was gone, silently envying sophisticated style and… mature body shape as it sashayed away.

“She’s awfully pretty,” she mused aloud, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious.  “What exactly is your relationship with her?”

Don’t tell me he’s actually into older women.  There’s no way I can compete with that.

Tim rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“It’s not what you think. She’s like an older sister.”

“…Seriously?”

How strangely ‘convenient’ all his supposed ‘relatives’ seem to be gorgeous supermodels.

“Trust me, there’s nothing like that between us.”

She gauged his earnest expression, before accepting assurance.

“All right, I believe you.” Her smile returned as she relaxed. “In that case…”

She fished around in her pocket, pulling out two tickets she won at the Theta-Kapa-Gamma Harvest Festival last week.

“Ta da~!  Tickets to see the monster movie marathon at the old Monarch Theater on Saturday!  You are free, aren’t you?”

Tim blinked as she practically shoved the tiny pieces of perforated paper in his face, fanning gleefully in invitation.  Temptation.

“I am, but…”

He gulped, hesitating as he seemed to desperately search for an excuse.

“I’m… not really a fan of old films…”

He mumbled lamely, appearing extremely uneasy for some reason.

Oh crap.  Don’t tell me I screwed up again.

Steph’s confidence sank in disappointment, recalling how she had once enthusiastically tried to engage Tim in a spontaneous water pistol fight going on in the campus courtyard (despite the season being somewhat ill-suited for the sport), having snuck up on him whilst the victim was reading unawares underneath the shade of a nearby tree, hitting him with a lighthearted squirt.  He had sat there, stunned, as he stared at the childish toy weapon in her hand, before wiping his soaked cheek with the back of his sleeve.  Slamming his book shut, he stated with such startlingly quiet, intense anger it took her aback:

“I don’t like guns.”

…Before standing up and stalking off in silence.

Still, she had hoped this would make up for it, that it could be something they’d both enjoy, spend some real quality time doing together (besides studying anyway, which she was starting to get sick and tired of as tests approached).  Who didn’t care for a good old-fashioned camp scare around Halloween?  …Maybe he just needed to give it a chance.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.  Have you ever even seen Dracula or Frankenstein?”

He shook his head.

“Whaaat, you’re missing out on some classics!  Come on, it’ll be fun.  We’ve both been working so hard, we deserve a break.  Cass has a pair of passes too, so she and Conner are going to be there as well.  We can totes double together.”  (Incidentally, it had been a little odd how her partner had been so fortunate as to receive the exact same prize at the booth’s trivia guessing game right after her, but she’d learned not to question Cassandra’s keen – if sometimes creepily uncanny – sense of intuition.)

Tim bit his lip, but acquiesced at her pleading puppy eyes, which shone with eager stars of anticipation.

“…Okay.”

“Great!  It’s a date then.”  She exclaimed excitedly as she handed him his half of the voucher.

“A… date.”

He repeated robotically, surveying the stub as if in disbelief.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

She waved as she skipped off, emboldened by sweet success.  In her jubilee, she accidentally ran straight into Conner as he coincidentally came round the corner, heading back to his room as well.

“Whoa, watch it there!”

He caught her just before she fell (unlike before, this sturdy target was obviously a lot harder to knock over), and she blushed a tinge as she felt his huge, strong arms wrap around her shoulder.

Man, what is it with me and bumping into hot guys recently?  …Not that I’m complaining, mind.

She wasn’t sure whether to be overjoyed or embarrassed by this recurring situation, but settled for leaning towards the former.  Conner, on the other hand, seemed a little less thrilled upon realizing the person in his grasp.

“Oh, it’s you. …Actually, good timing.  I want to talk to you about Tim.”

He raised her up, but kept a firm grip on her collar as he drew her back round the bend.  …It was almost a little painful, the amount of pressure his paw was putting on her petite stature.  His countenance was severely solemn as he stooped forward to meet her level.

“…Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it so you don’t get the wrong idea.  Tim’s… ‘delicate’.  I mean, really delicate.”  He frowned, icy blue irises flaring dangerously as his dense, digging fingers deepened into the folds of her blouse, contracting and contacting to the bone.  “You need to watch what you say and do around him.  I swear, if you ever do anything intentionally to hurt him, I will never forgive you.  You got that?”

She recoiled, reasoning he was likely referring to the gun stunt.

Is he… making a genuine threat?

Steph was somewhat scared now as his shadow loomed over her, backing her against the wall.  She nodded meekly.

“U- understood.”

“Good.”

He released her, and she rubbed at the sore spot on her skin, wondering if it was going to leave a bruise. She was also starting to wonder what the heck Cass saw in this big dumb brute.  He was admittedly attractive, sure, but personality-wise he was Tim’s complete opposite: loud, brash, obnoxious – not to mention arrogant – basically your stereotypical jock.  And yet…

“You really care a lot about Tim, don’t you?”

Conner sniffed.  “Of course I do.  He’s my best friend.”

…’Friend’, huh?

The way he behaved seemed to go far beyond mere “friendship” though.  He was almost acting like an overprotective guardian.  …Or a possessive one.

“Could it be that you’re… jealous?”

“Me?  Jealous? Of you?”  Conner scoffed.  “Why on earth would I be jealous?  Just because you’re the one getting him to finally open up and trust you, participate in a bunch of social activities he never normally would, even though I’ve tried so hard to motivate him to be more outgoing over these past few years? To convince him to talk to me about his problems?  To be the kind of stupid-ass cliché you huma- people find so damn popular just so no one else would dare to mess with him?”

He laughed like a bark, though it sounded slightly strained.  Pained. Stephanie softened at such a display of devotion.

…Maybe he’s not such an oaf after all.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done a lot more for him than you give yourself credit for.  I’m sure he appreciates having you as a pal.”

She cautioned a comforting pat on his broad muscle.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m trying to steal him away from you or anything.  Besides, you’re doing the same thing for Cass, aren’t you? Trying to help her break out of her shell?  Heck, I’ve noticed she’s been a lot more vocal ever since you two started seeing each other.”

Conner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

���You think?  I mean, I guess you could say that.  I dunno, it feels like I’m not really right for her…  She’s so serious and deep, and – and next to her I feel like a total doofus most of the time…”

Stephanie couldn’t help but sympathize.  They were a weird couple, to be sure, but then the same could easily be said about her and Tim.

“Hey, far be it from me to judge, but even if it doesn’t seem like you’re made for each other off the bat, I think you owe it to yourselves to try and explore those feelings at least. You never know, maybe it will work out.”

…It might’ve been her imagination, but the margins of his mouth seemed to twitch a bit at the word “made”.  He coughed as he replied contritely though.

“Thanks.  And, uh, sorry about being rough earlier.”

“It’s all right.”  She smirked.  “You were just defending your ‘delicate’ flower’s honor.”

A humiliated flush crept onto his visage.

“Oi, despite what you may have heard, it’s not like that.”

“It’s okay,” she giggled in understanding.  “I feel the same way about Cass.  …I suppose you could consider it even then?”

“Um… I suppose.”  He looked confounded by the straightforward confession, but shrugged, not wanting to think too hard about it anymore, lest things get overly complicated.  “So… We good then?”

She smiled.

“Yeah.  We’re good.”

…

When the weekend rolled around, Stephanie dragged Cassandra clothes shopping before the big day, insisting on doing her hair and makeup as well.  By the time they arrived at the cinema, the boys were already there waiting, checking their watches out in the cold.  While she sheepishly apologized on both behalves for being “fashionably late”, Steph figured it was worth it when she saw their slack jaws at how much fashion had transformed them.  The guys were dressed decently to impress as well, both sporting smart leather jackets (although Tim’s looked a size too big for him, and Conner still had on that ruddy black Superman T-shirt underneath that seemed like it came from a little kid’s closet).

She took the initiative in lining up with Tim to order snacks and soda, in the meantime telling the other two to go find four seats together.  Luckily they didn’t have to wait long, as there didn’t seem to be many customers despite it being a Saturday.  (To be fair those tickets were probably pretty cheap and undesirable to given away free at some college fest.) Although she kept chatting cheerfully to try and pass the time, her other company seemed even more uncomfortable than usual in the lightly crowded lobby, hardly able to carry a conversation – let alone the food – all the way to the viewing room.  She began to worry if this had been a mistake to bring him here, and prayed the darkness and drama onscreen would at least be able to distract him enough to loosen up a little.

Cass and Conner had saved them two seats near the edge, and she sidled in next to her girlfriend (for moral support) while Tim took the one closest to the aisle.  He kept glimpsing tensely around though, still just as jumpy as before.

“Hey, chill out a bit, will ya?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s just, in my experience, this is usually the part where the place catches fire, or some punks try to rob the box office, or…”

She stared at him, shaking her head.

“You fret too much.  Just try to relax and enjoy, okay?  Here, have some popcorn.”

He passed on the salted kernels though, and she pouted as she popped one in her mouth, chewing over whether she’d made the right decision after all. He looked almost claustrophobic, stressed.  In distress.

Things didn’t improve much as the motion picture started to play.  The first feature presentation in the lineup was indeed Frankenstein, and although Tim managed to remain relatively calm enough throughout the monochrome, monotone introduction, he started to stiffen at the famous “awakening” sequence.

“Quite a good scene, isn’t it? One man crazy, three very sane spectators.”

Out of the crook of her eye, Steph sensed her companion cringe every time there was a thunderclap, as lights flashed and machinery sparked with mounting electricity, while the movie madman merrily turned the wheel to “adjust the batteries”.  Together, he and his assistant unrolled the cloth covering the table to expose a humanlike form strapped to it, albeit with limbs limp and lifeless.  Tim’s claw clutched at his armrest as the stretcher was gradually lifted up through a hole in the ceiling towards the stormy sky, where pulses of galvanizing lightning presumably struck the subject repeatedly.

Stephanie divided concentration back and forth between the increasingly agitated boy beside her and the big screen in growing alarm as his breathing accelerated, gasping and wheezing audibly as he bent forward and put his hyperventilating head between his knees.  Cass and Conner were casting concerned looks as well, while other annoyed audience members revolved around and shushed to keep it down.  As her attention was arrested by the scientist maniacally screaming “It’s alive!” over and over again, she turned back one last time to ask if Tim was all right in a worried whisper – but there was no answer.

Tim was gone.

————————–

Oh Lord, whatever did I say? Whatever made me think that this was all okay? No one held me to the flame The hell if I could take the dark from my face

[randomramblingtidbits]

The Issue of Admirers

Summary: Eva helps a teenage Flopin deal with the fact that among the Cra he is quite the target of admirers. Post-Season 3  A/N: It’s fun to think about what Elely and Flopin would be like as teenagers, as well as how Pinpin and Eva would react to it. I also really like the theory of Eva being the next Cra matriarch, so add that in and image how much attention the kids would attract. 

“Mom, help.”

The ‘help’ was enough for Eva’s parental instincts to immediately pipe up, but the way Flopin said it wasn’t in distress, but more of a whine. It was akin to when he would get into fights with Elely and rush to tattle on her.  

Evangelyne looked up from her desk to see that her son was not in trouble. His hair was rumpled, with a few sticks and leaves stuck in it and one of his hair ties missing. Leaves and sticks also stuck to his cape and pants as well, which additionally were splattered with dirt and mud. He looked disheveled, but more annoyed than actually hurt.

“Flopin, what happen?” She asked as stood up from her chair and gestured for him sit down.  

Flopin sat, taking off his cape and remaining hair tie as he began talking. “I just wanted to practice at the firing range and before I knew it all these girls were swarming the area. And when I tried to leave they kept trying to give me things and ask for dates. And then when I tried to bolt someone grabbed me and I ended up falling in a mud pile.” He shook his head, sending some leaves and sticks flying from his hair. “I only managed to escape because they began turning on each other over who dared to trip me.”  

Eva nodded as she picked up a hairbrush and comb and stood behind his head. “Look forward,” She said as she began trying to comb out the mess in his hair. Flopin grumbled as he looked over his clothes, and winced as a particularly tangled stick was dealt with. “Sorry. I’ll try to not pull too much.”  

“It’s fine Mama,” Well, if he was back to calling her that instead of ‘Mom’ he must already feeling better. It amused Eva how easy she could gauge her son’s mood by how she called him. “But if you want to outlaw girls from throwing themselves at me, that would be great.”

“You know I can’t do that, my wolf.” At least Flopin gave her a smile at that, making clear that he was joking. The smile soon disappeared as he held up his dirty cape and look at the damage done to it. At least it wasn’t white like his father’s, so it wasn’t as bad as it could be.  

Wearing a cape wasn’t the only way Flopin emulated his father. Once he hit puberty, he began looking more and more like a Cra-verson of Tristepin. Like his father, he chose to forgo a shirt, though he still wore shoes since he never could get use to running around barefoot. His chest, as toned and muscular as Pinpin’s had been at his age, was also splatted with dirt and leaves, a hazard of going shirtless.

And that wasn’t the only hazard of it, Eva thought as she kept combing his hair. She would be lying if she didn’t say that part of what sealed her attraction to Pinpin was how toned and muscular he became when he returned from his self-imposed exile. Most Iops she encountered were too muscular, but Pinpin’s physique had been just right for her taste, so she really appreciated the free view he allowed. If other Cra girls’s tastes ran in the same directions as hers, she understood why her son attracted so much of their attention.  

Then there was how quickly he made a name for himself among Cra city. It wasn’t just that his parents were members of the illustrious Brotherhood of the Tofu, or that his mother was the hand-picked successor to the Matriarch and his father one of warriors who were responsible for Ogrest’s defeat. Cra’s took pride not just in their bloodlines, but also their personal achievements. And to that, Flopin was able to stand on his own regardless of his parentage. He always had a knack for inventing, and after some mechanical lessons from ‘Grandpa’ Ruel he was able to better realize his ideas and began revolutionizing bows and beacons, as well as even fighting styles. He fought with a style born from years of being taught by an Iop father as well as a Cra mother, and honed during battles with his twin. Like his mother, he could fight entirely without a bow if necessary, but he was far more comfortable with switching between switch long range and close-quarter combat than her. 

 All this -the looks, pedigree, and battle prowess- easily made Flopin the most eligible bachelor among the Cra.  

Eva’s other children didn’t attract as much attention.  Grant it, her youngest son wasn’t even ten yet, and he was making friends just find, despite Eva’s intiatl misgivings she had when she moved her family to the city. It was just that, like his sister at the same age, ‘romance’ and ‘love’ was just all the ‘grosser than the gross’ kissing and hugging that his parents did. And speaking of his sister...

Just like how Flopin was a Cra version of Pinpin, so too did Elely become an Iop version of Eva. She blossomed into young woman just as curvy as her mother was, and with a similarly cut sleeveless, spandex black outfit as well. But with Elely, her parentage did end up working against her. Just in Cra city alone there were plenty of young men who seemed interested but feared making a move. It wasn’t just that her mother was their future Matriarch, but that fact that her father was one of the warriors to defeat freaking Ogrests! That was enough to put the fear of Cra in the boys about dating ‘daddy’s little girl.’

But Pinpin wouldn’t have any issue with his daughter dating. He was still such a romantic, who told their love story as a bedtime story to their children and voiced his desire for them to find their own true love. He approached his children growing up not begrudging, but with excitement that that may experience the same joy with their true love that he felt with his. 

But his stories also came with hard earned advice about how you should treat your love, about all the lessons he learned about love and respect during his courtship with his Eva. This mobbing Flopin endured? This was something neither Pinpin or Eva could accept, especially given their own history of dealing with unwanted suitors. The girls would do good to fear reprisal for violating their son’s personal boundaries.

Eva combed the last of the foliage from his hair. “You could always direct the girls towards your sister”  

“By Cra, no!” Flopin jolted, his hair tie falling to the floor as he swirled to face his mother, looking at her in horror. “We may still fight sometimes, but I can’t do that to her! If she wants to date girls, fine, but I am not subjecting her to those-those harpies!”  

“Oh Flopin,” Eva shook her head with a smile, “I didn’t mean like that. I was thinking that you could establish that if they wanted to date you, they had to defeat Elely in a fist fight first.”

Flopin turned the idea over in his mind. The score was pretty much even when it came to him and Elely sparring, but that was because he could use his bow. In a straight up fist fight, the tally was much more in her favor. And he doubted his fan girls would have an easier time defeating her.  

He gave his mother a grin. “You know what Mama? That might just work.”  

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 109

Something was afoot in the madhouse. Of course something was always afoot in that house, with four mentally unstable, desperate people living in the house. Whitney and Allison began leaving together a lot that November to my mother's house. I had no idea why they wanted to go back over there. It was sad and boring, and the lighting was very poor so at night everything was dim and atrocious. I would often accompany them to the door, and then turn back and go home when we reached our destination. I still wasn't welcome in my mom's house since that summer, though David told my mother that he was willing to suffer with my presence that Thanksgiving and Christmas for the sake of the holidays and the fact my mother planned on making both holidays big family get togethers.

It was fine though. Because I discovered very quickly that when Allison and Whitney went together places, Josh would lump the two of them together and hate them both equally. Josh had a very strange ego indeed. He seemed to see two or more people doing something as some act of hatred towards him. And what made this even more bizarre to me was the fact that Josh could at times be extremely clever and clear minded. But when it came to himself there was no gauge on reality. Internally, you could look into his swirling eyes and know he was suffering some insane idea that he was being slighted. To a degree, Whitney probably knew this about Josh too and was likely intentionally doing this stuff to tease him.

I remember one evening we walked to my mother's house and when we reached the door to her apartment, it was sunset. I smiled and said my goodbyes and started walking back to the house. When I opened the door and walked inside Josh was slouched miserably over his computer. There was this intense feeling of rage and self loathing and loneliness. Honestly, there was this sick black sadness that took over his entire being and seemed to cover everything around him. I felt like I was choking in it just by being in the same room as him. It was a strange feeling to love someone with these problems. It intrigued me. He looked like some small sickly creature that had been left to die by it's parents. When he turned around to see me come through the door, he honestly looked shocked and surprised, and suddenly a soft loving sense of gratitude washed over him, not unlike the ending of Beauty and the Beast when the beast realizes that Belle came back after he let her go. His eyes twinkled. We didn't say anything but he smiled sheepishly. I am sure my eyes twinkled in return, and I smiled back.

I guess what I wanted Josh to know more than anything was that he wasn't alone. I actually understood him. There were so many things that individualized him from the world that I felt within myself. Josh might have been the one person in my entire life who actually made some sense to me. Whatever he had been doing for his whole life in contrast to everyone around him, I actually loved him unconditionally and I saw potential and greatness in him, even if no one else had ever recognized it and I recognized his flaws just as clearly and I loved him regardless. To me, he was perfect. He could be vulnerable around me. He could be crazy around me, or ugly. I would love him anyway. I loved him more than anyone in his entire life ever loved him, I would stay when everyone else was gone and things were hard. I would lay down my life on his behalf. I was his. There really was nowhere and nothing else for me to live for anymore. I was here for a reason. I tried to give that away with eye contact and with smiling. And he was receiving it, and taking it in. It was shocking and exciting for me to not feel rejected out of hand. And there was something strangely addictive and pleasing about submitting so completely to someone else.

I picked up this book called Maia written by Richard Adams, who also wrote A Watership Down, which is a book I fell in love with several years previous. Maia is not a well known book of his – but it's worth reading in it's own way. It's a book that follows the story of a girl who becomes sexually active in this fantasy world, becomes a prostitute, and eventually transcends nobility with her beauty and grace and strange purity and is deified. It's well written, and disturbing and oddly beautiful and insightful on surviving and rising above. I spent my long hours when I wasn't working (which I fail to talk about because dishwashing is a little boring – but it's where I spent 70% of my waking hours, I was either listening to The Smiths, freaking out about my weight on the scales, or reading this big book. This book articulated so much of what I had learned in the world in the last year – it was fascinating to be reading these same conclusions from a book that had nothing in common with my actual life. I felt like I was learning how to embrace my own femininity too, which was something that was explored throughout the novel.

I wasn't perhaps doing such a great job at being a feminist – I was still trying to understand my own femininity I suppose. I wasn't that I didn't consider myself a feminist – the concept certainly never insulted me in any way, but in the limited and real-world outlook of my personal life, I didn't feel like I could afford to be overly proud. If I had to humiliate myself under the boot and perverted wandering eyes of men, I wasn't too good to do that so long as I won out in the end. I admit I enjoyed the power dynamic. I felt lucky to be where I was – I had never believed I would ever leave my father's house and now I was living on my own in this dark crazy world. Somehow I had lost everything that year, and in the stitching of my coming together again, I was recreated into something more than I had ever been. Certain potential aspects became part of my character, when they had always and presumably might have stayed hidden and dormant had all these strange events not happened. I had to embrace my evolution. And the more and more I thought about it, I started to almost find a strange happiness that I had been broken in this way. Had I never been totally broken after all, I wouldn't have met Josh, and maybe I wouldn't understand him as well as I did.

Thanksgiving was a nightmare. Maria was allowed over that holiday. Her kids were unappreciative of the food. They threw it around. It seems like there was some kind of a fight that took place between Maria and David. Things might have gotten violent. I believe my mother screamed at me. I don't remember what all happened – it gets pretty mixed in with a bunch of other terrible Thanksgivings and Christmases that ended up happening over the years, only Allison and I left that evening near tears – we felt physically wounded by the chaos and hatred and fear of violence that went on throughout the night. There was no meaning for us as a family to even try these family get togethers. Everyone only seemed intent on wounding one another. All of us in our own individualized way were so dysfunctional and scarred from our experiences that sitting around a table of Thanksgiving dinner and trying to simply be polite and get through it was like putting rabid apex predators in a cage with one another. There was a lot of ill will. It seemed more and more true that being in the same area as our family was destructive to our mental health and nothing ever good could come of us being together in the same house. As bothered as I was by Allison's particular unwellness, there was no contest that she and I were the sanest ones in the house. Maybe family wasn't worth having. It cemented in my mind a notion that I had already pretty much developed, that you should choose who you call family rather than simply accept the one you were born into. This of course being relative to my own personal set of circumstances, but one of my least favorite quotes is that blood is thicker than water. I've had friends that meant more to me than many of my siblings and I don't care what kind of clannish code I am breaking on that count.

Maria was living at Wes's for the time to stay in town I guess in the meager attempt to get custody of her children since the state was now keeping them at my mother's until Maria could get her life in order and demonstrate that she could be a competent adult. Secretly, Maria and Dan got married soon after loosing the kids, which didn't help the custody case to get her kids back whatsoever seeing as Dan was a good portion of the reason she had lost the kids to begin with. She didn't seem overly interested in trying to get them back – and more or less only did so much as to get a few spare bills here and again in the exchange of pretending she couldn't move forward if she didn't have it. She ended up having a mental breakdown suicide attempt and ended up on the 5th floor. She came back from that after four days, only to have another where she slit her wrists a few weeks later. This time Dan stitched her up by hand, taking great relish in the blood and gore of it all. Maria and Dan sure were a sick couple. It was easy to feel horrible for Maria most of the time – but the kind of horrible you felt for her left you with a sinking helpless knowing that she was too far gone to really reach out to. She had been doing this for years and no matter how much help or money or opportunities came to her, she continued on with an unappreciative neediness that could never be filled. She wasted every opportunity to make a good decision. She was more than willing to put her children in disgusting situations for Dan's sake. She never saw any of the things she said or did as being her fault. She lied continuously and her inner narrative was a long drawn out story of how everyone in her life had wronged her. And I guess it wore people down around her – even though that sounds callous. Nobody wanted to help her anymore, nor did anyone have the resources to attempt it. The best that could be done was to take the kids away.

During this time I mostly kept to myself. Josh seemed to cool down around Christmas – he seemed to become a lot warmer and happier again. Seeing as he and Whitney both went to their married parents for these holidays I didn't see a lot of either of them or if I did I felt like I was always catching them putting on their winter gear to head out somewhere together, and Josh was probably happy to have Whitney and he alone once more. I laid low in the basement like a witch patiently waiting for my spell to take hold. Allison meanwhile had fallen into severe depression. She had come to live at the madhouse expecting love and acceptance, but Josh was unstable, cold and jealous half the time and she had the misfortune of putting herself in every bad situation between him and Whitney. In her childish egotism she had been so sure that I was the one in the house that would 'fall' or whathaveyou. This living situation was taken very seriously. But I had been pragmatic somehow, despite my emotional breakdowns and such. Being exhausted from work and becoming more and more consumed by weight loss helped me forget about what was happening around me sometimes. I learned to measure myself and measure the meaning behind my actions and the actions of others, and it kept me safe from being blamed for whatever was upsetting Josh. I had to stay on my toes though, had to keep smiling despite feeling miserable, had to play the game unflinching. Allison was basing her life decisions on wishful thinking and faith. And it was breaking her. She stopped leaving her room, and instead listened to Jens Lekman for hours and hours and pet Whitney's long since abandoned kitten, Jude all day. She stopped brushing her hair. She resented me despite the fact that I had pretty much stayed out of her and Whitney and Josh's issues.

Usually I cooked Allison lunches along with mine – which for me I had a very small selection of foods I would eat at this point – omelets, and apples and peanut butter and salads with tuna fish on them. Just because we weren't always getting along didn't mean that there wasn't a sisterlike symbiosis between us that kept us together. We laughed and enjoyed music together at times. I got a lot of information from her concerning whatever Whitney and Josh were upset about (one or both of them were always upset). We had/have a lot of core similarities even when we are also very different. We were glancing out the glass side door by the kitchen one morning and I saw a pretty teenage boy walking down the road. He had long brown hair, brown eyes. He was alternative. A nice face. He was quietly striking – but pretty young for my taste however. Normally I don't look around for pretty people in the world, but he was surprisingly decent enough to where I thought it was definitely worth my time to point him out to Allison. I called out to her to come to the window, and she told me that his name was Forrest and that he went to her school. And that she had developed a crush on him. Which was weird and interesting since he was walking right through our neighborhood and I just happened to spot him. It was nice to hear that Allison had taken to a boy around her age.

After one of my swimming days with my mother, we went to eat at the little coffee house bakery that I liked to eat at. There were sometimes used books and cds for sale on the shelf and I began digging through them. I ended up finding a very strange album in this bakery that one might not expect to find in a place like Clarkston Washington. It was the used copy of Jason Webley's first album Viage. It wasn't the best album I had ever heard, but I knew that Jason Webley was associated with Amanda Palmer through a collaboration they did a few years back and Jason Webley grew on me after this. I listened to all his music obsessively. Bits and pieces of his music sound like what I later learned to appreciate in The Mountain Goats, and there is a definite strong Tom Waits influence in his songs. Still, it's highly original – there is nobody in the world like Jason Webley. Jason Webley's lyrics were poetic and beautiful. It was theatrical but also very low key at times. There is an otherworldly power to it all. His lyrics always struck me as slightly pagan, though nothing that could be pinpointed exactly – I would not strictly consider this pagan music. I consider finding this album in my obscure bakery shelves to be one of the best finds I ever had in that stupid little town. Part of me wondered if the universe had placed it there for me to find. Because there wasn't going to be hardly anyone in a forty mile radius who knew who Jason Webley even was. Had I not been there to find that album, it most surely would have been buried in a landfill sooner rather than later.

Music was always the one good thing in my life. It always felt crisp and alive and poured into the core of me when I listened to it no matter how unhappy I was. Even the stuff I could barely stand that played in the stores harnessed a strong reaction out of me. I always assumed that everyone was influenced by music as much as I was, but I've seen enough now and been informed first hand that it isn't always the case. I think a great many people are impacted by music and I am most certainly not trying to say that I am that unique in the big picture, but it was always a little higher on my priorities and influences of life decisions than it was most everyone I knew. I didn't think of music as light entertainment – to me music was a life force, probably more important than politics when you think of the deep seated nature of how it affects us on a personal level. When I listened to new music, my mind expanded and depth and direction of what I could feel – and I was beginning to experiment further with my taste. I was starting to listen to African music and music listened to in the 20's and 30's along side the staples that I was accustomed to.

Amanda Palmer put out this kickstarter video asking for donations to a new album she had put together, and I was instantly in love with her all over again. I adored Amanda Palmer honestly. She was an icon for me, especially in those dark basement madhouse days. In a way she was more meaningful to me than my personal life or my love life (which is saying a lot since I am obsessed with love and romance). There was a strength to her, an individuality to her – I felt she had hit some kind of personal pinnacle that one must transform into at some point. Because honestly, she had practically invented her own personal beauty that was untouchable as it was her's alone and nobody would ever be able to replicate her ideas, her voice, or that intimate knowing look of love she had in her eyes. When I was feeling very low after my shift as a dishwasher, where the bottom of my work shirt was soaked with greasy food water and I could still hear kitchen noises and rudimentary wasteful exchanges of conversation between servers and hostesses in the front – when my drafty cold basement room was chilly because it was getting to be winter, I felt jealous and rejected and lonely, ashamed and unworthy, and starved and sometimes jittery from the diet pill I would get my hands on at times, when I felt like I had something I needed to say desperately so the world might understand me a bit better, but my racing repetitive thoughts wouldn't let me say anything I hadn't repeated a million times before to uncaring ears, and the past was in shambles and the future looked messy – but I knew I had to live with my heart on my sleeve and also do so cautiously in total contradiction of that since you have to be open to find happiness but closed to avoid pain simultaneously, even as I knew I was surely headed for further self destruction regardless, I quietly promised myself that whatever came of my life, someday I would emit my own form of beauty and I would have that same kind of confidence – and in that confidence I would find inspiration and love and all those things that I had been thoroughly denied for most of my young life.

I also started listening to a lot of Bat For Lashes, Anna Calvi, Cat's Eyes and one song by a group called Future Islands called 'Tin Man' which is extremely strange sounding little tune that was often trapped in my thoughts for days on end.

It was around this time that Whitney and Allison were going to see her mother, Cindy in Deary and they asked if I wanted to ride with. I was assured that I wouldn't see Zack or Sarah. Both of them were elsewhere, it was explained to me. Mostly, I thought it would be interesting to drive out to the old places that I had known when I had been younger. I didn't live that far away from Kendrick and Juliaetta and all the small towns, but Lewiston and Clarkston were much larger towns by comparison and seeing as I had no further business in Kendrick with all of that childhood bitterness always waiting there for me in an attempt to make me relive the fruitless sadness and irredeemable waste of time and energy, since I didn't have a car and the idea of living with my father or being around him made me understandably weary, I never went out there and I just wanted to drive through quickly to see the old territory from the backseat of Whitney's car. I had no interest in seeing Cindy of course.

When we finally arrive there however, Zack's car was in the parking space. Sarah and Zack were indeed at Cindy's. I was embarrassed among many things. This meant I couldn't go in, meaning I would have to sit outside and freeze – which I would much rather do than be in Sarah and Zack's presence ever again. Sarah had responded to very few of my emails, and we sometimes wouldn't even say hi during our work shifts. I hesitated to say Sarah was not my friend, and perhaps she felt the same. How did this even happen? In a million years I could not have predicted these events would come to pass. And now I wouldn't even go into a house when it was blizzardy and cold outside on the count that Sarah and Zack were both in there.

I pretended things were okay. I hummed 'Tin Man' to myself outside the cold dark rural nothingness of nightfall in Deary. The silence was deafening. I wasn't really mad. I just wished I had been better informed. And I was nervous and cold. Ten long aching minutes of anticipation and silence went by, when suddenly I heard the familiar and slightly heartbreaking tone of Sarah saying 'hi Renee', behind me. I swiftly turned around and Sarah stood at the trailer porch, four months pregnant. She looked down at me where I was standing in the gravel driveway with an odd amount of care. She was happy to see me. I immediately apologized for showing up. I knew we both agreed not to be around one another, and I particularly didn't want to be around her or Zack and this was just one big misunderstanding that I felt I need to apologize for  having come along with Whitney and Allison. She didn't seem particularly bothered, and mostly felt sorry that I was sitting out in the cold car on account of it. She got me an extra jacket to wear and in a rare and unexpected move, she gave me a hug. Which made me feel weak and sad and confused. It almost seemed to me like she sympathized with my situation more than she sympathized with herself, but being that was the case, why was she going through with all this? Why did she want to be with Zack at all? If she was on my side, then why wasn't she on my side?

An hour and a half later Whitney and Allison came back to the car and we drove back to Clarkston.

At work there was this new guy in the kitchen named Chanse, slightly pudgy, with glasses and a soft boyish face that seemed caring in a vacant annoying sort of way, and he had this way of touching me all the time – which he went out of his way to do often, or to compliment my appearance and intense eye contact, which can sometimes feel like being touched. I had gotten used to the touchiness of working with various different personalities in a kitchen, but Chanse was always touching me when I reacted coldly to it. It was known to him and to everyone that I was somewhat flirtatious but also kind of standoffish and slightly rough with guys when they tried to one up me. And I guess it was hard for me to deal with because I wasn't used to being touched and I have always been a very susceptible, sensitive and sometimes brazenly insecure human being. Touching means something to me. I struggle with casual hugging, and it's an admitted weakness that I can't seem to overcome. I guess what I was struggling to understand was what his intentions were ultimately. Was he touching me because he was just a touchy person and he was trying to be friendly? Or was he doing so to be perverted.. years of little exposure to people in my own age made it very hard for me to understand how to follow social cues. After I caught him staring at my chest, and the amount of intimacy  he spent putting my collar in the right place once as he walked passed me in the dish pit made me assume that he was touching me was likely his way of flirting.

It really affected me though. I guess  because nobody in my entire adult life aside from Sarah had ever just broken those boundaries with me and hugged me, or patted my shoulder or fixed my collar or a button on my shirt. I always took the natural avoidance people gave of me to mean that whatever gross unlovable thing I knew to be true of myself in the inside was probably transparent to people on the outside more than I even realized, and I was like a water hole that had been poisoned and the deer would never drink from it. People knew to steer clear of me. I didn't like Chanse very much, though I didn't hate him as much as I sometimes pretended to either – I could get in very quiet contemplative moods alone in the dish pit and when he came in to flirt with me or talk to me, I would play the reluctant brat, but I would be happy to have some company among the echoing pipes and dishes. It was hard to talk through these things out loud with people without trying to explain the parts that bothered me and the parts that didn't. Because when I talked to Josh or Allison about it, it just seemed to translate that I was being sexually harassed and I didn't like it. Which was partly true, but what bothered me was how it sort of confused me emotionally. I was so cut off from people. Being hugged felt nice. But I didn't want to be hugged by Chanse – I thought he was more than a little dull. But maybe I needed a hug so badly by this point it didn't even matter if some gross kitchen oaf hugged me or the guy of my dreams.  

Josh had never given me a hug before. Josh was very cold inside. I had never received more meaningful eye contact in my life, or had as a reflective and disturbing conversation as I had ever had with anyone else, and in Josh's way he might have been one of the most intimate people I knew. He knew how to get inside my head. But he wouldn't touch people except Whitney, and it didn't seem natural or good somehow. I thought it was intriguing how Josh wouldn't touch people. It was almost like he had to make up for it by being socially one on one intimate. So when I talked to Josh, and we stared into one another's eyes for several seconds straight and we talked about meaningful things that brought out the vulnerability in me – which hadn't really happened quite yet, I would sometimes go to bed feeling like I had just cuddled with someone for hours, but Josh and I never touched. So I guess I took on that same role as Josh. You intimately touch people with your thoughts and with your words and with your eyes. You never touch them physically – and I guess you just create this insane emotional tension till someone breaks. I thought the notion of making people love you without touching them was fascinating. It was probably the power I wanted in these given situations more than it was love, though I wanted Josh to break somehow. It was something that most of my female friends in high school wouldn't have begun to understand. It was certainly outside the bounds of being understood by my family, or by most people for that matter, maybe the baser sexual nature of a lot of men especially might alienate them from what I suddenly became intrigued by.

So I guess when Chanse touched me, I felt powerless. And in that powerlessness I felt like a child. I was beginning to be able to look at my life's damage in the past tense and see that I was a very fragile and broken girl. I didn't have a lot of experience in anything, and perhaps I never would at this point. I was twenty two and still a virgin, I'd never been kissed. And I resented that since Chanse wasn't someone I actually felt fondly towards and he was breaking boundaries that perhaps he didn't think of as boundaries. But they were for me. And if I told him to stop directly, it would be admitting that I was naive and him touching my shoulder was far more for me than it was for him, and good lord this was a fucking dishwashing job and he was a gross kitchen boy and I shouldn't even have to worry about this at all, and I didn't want everyone to know that I didn't have those same natural boundaries and comfort zones as everyone else. I'd talk to someone about this too, only if I explained that I liked being hugged on some level, that my oxytocin levels but didn't really actually like Chanse at all and felt repulsed at the same time, they would have just looked at me blankly and made fun of me and said I had a crush. Which wasn't true. It wasn't like that. So I just pretended he was more of a predator than he was to cover my tracks. And at the same time, my insecure ego wanted to control Chanse, and/or perhaps any other fool who got into my zone. I didn't want to go around having sex with anyone, I didn't really want to ruin anyone's lives. I just wanted that adoration and I having never been really admired before I wanted to know what it felt like to control the opposite sex.

Somehow I got roped into Christmas at my mother's, even after Thanksgiving had been the disaster it had been. My mother had manically been making cookies for days, of every variety imaginable, and in my own manic nervousness, I ate so many cookies that I gained eight pounds in two days – all in cookies I am fairly sure. I felt angry and sick with myself when I got home. Maria was there, and her sons were at their worst. My mother was screaming at everyone. Maria was screaming. Eventually there was crying and accusations. Maria didn't think she was given enough of course. The police were called to tell us to keep it down which helped for maybe an hour. In my family I am very outgoing and foolishly I sometimes try to be the diplomat between people – which always turns into a bloodsport for both parties to come after me instead. It's partly why I hate people I think. I always foolishly believe that being civil and diplomatic and constructive and caring will make things work, and it's not what a lot of people want. I end up getting taken advantage of. It gets tiring and sometimes I feel a bitterness coming on and I have to shut my bedroom door for awhile and find new reasons to try again.

At some point Ian was really acting horrendous so I hugged him to give him the positive attention rather than the negative attention  he craved. It didn't work. He started breaking stuff and hurting the other kids. Maria wanted to ruin the Christmas we were having due to some malice and jealousies she had for everyone in the family. She believed we all owed her. She encouraged Ian to do more bad stuff. Meanwhile, David was in the corner, nervous agitated and serious. I was 'lucky' I guess to be allowed to be there at all, considered he hated me with a passion still. I knew it was only a matter of time before David reacted violently, maybe to anyone who got in his way. He was shaking and upset. So I got fed up and told Maria she wasn't needed at the gathering if she was intent on ruining everything and making it worse. Maria's eyes melted in sorrow and tears when I said that, and I felt like a total bitch. There was no winning. So the kid's mom went home in tears and everyone saw me as 'the bad guy' who threw their mother out in the street. Ian was out of his mind with nervous bad intent, and he ended up freaking out and running away out in the snow in the streets of Lewiston through the back window. Being as he was a very small seven or eight year old boy, and it was freezing and snowy outside, we had to call the police on Christmas day.. the second time the police came to our house.

The cops found Ian running outside with no shoes on, but they didn't take him in their car and deliver him to us. Instead they just pointed to the direction of the house and told him to get back where he belonged. David was a nervous wreck at this point and him and my mother were at it, so he went out to take a walk to cool down and get away from everyone. He was often times picked on by the police, partly because of his history with being a problem in school and partly due to the fact that he had black clothing on all the time and we were in a very redneck area of the world where 'goths' are seen as threats (though wearing all black is not really goth). So David was walking and minding his own business, and the police decided that he was a threat so they picked him up and put him in their car and questioned him about why he was walking on Christmas day, and didn't believe him when he told him he was just walking for the sake of walking. They couldn't charge him with anything so they eventually just drove him back to the apartments and told him that he wasn't allowed to leave, something else they can't do. So the police came to our house three times that day. Three fucking times. And I think it's strange that they criminalized David, who was no saint but was doing nothing wrong - only taking a walk by himself on the public sidewalks in daylight but wouldn't pick up eight year old Ian who was out in the cold far from the house with no shoes on. I realize there is a spectrum in regards to quality police enforcement and there are 'good cops' out there, as if anything is that simple, but the lack of professionalism and the unfair targeting of police even just in my personal life has made me rather mistrustful and doubtful of their 'goodness'.

That ended up being the worst Christmas to date. Allison and I were crying when we went home. I had a lot of weight to lose – another six weeks it took to get back on track, and in my attempt to maintain order I had pissed off everyone, though I was getting pretty used to the feeling by then. Fortunately we had a slightly happier Christmas with Josh and Whitney the next day. It was the Madhouse Christmas I suppose. It didn't come to much. We had a small tree. We just opened gifts we had made for one another. I got Whitney a glass jellyfish. I painted Allison Jens Lekman and I don't remember what else I got her but it was something. Josh I bought this very special little decorative item which was a skeleton a computer desk. Josh didn't like décor, but this skeleton had his likeness and his essence. His eyes lit up with love when he saw it. Josh loved things that pertained to himself. And it was an awesome skeleton figurine. I knew I had gotten him his favorite thing. I could see a special warmth in his eyes of happiness when he looked at me thankfully. Everyone on the planet wants to feel understood. This gift implied that I understood him. I wasn't just going through the motions of buying a thing for Christmas.

That New Years of 2011 was our last real party as the original Madhouse gang. Finally that painful year of change was over. Melissa came down and there was one last party with Melissa, Josh and Whitney and us Sanborn girls. I was talked into drinking a little bit of whiskey and coke. I was extremely hesitant, fearful that the first gulp would cause me to become so intoxicated I would black out (I was not aware of how strong or weak alcoholic beverages might potentially be). It made me tipsy, but I remember feeling that the illusion of separateness that always was particularly strong with me seemed to grow dimmer. I felt more at one with everyone, I relaxed a little and let go. I wasn't totally out of my mind either. Admittedly, I really enjoyed the feeling. That brittle and painful grip that my over analytical and fearful and stubborn need to be separate seemed less intense. I felt like I could move and speak without permission from ten different people inside my head. And even seeing Josh pining over Whitney (who had someone new in mind but I wasn't sure who that was yet), didn't even make me jealous. All of these things that were taking place were so petty and temporary. Nobody was thinking about the big picture except for me. I could build something better and was in the process of doing just that. Josh would realize sooner rather than later. He was pretty smart in that way. And I would make him fall in love with me. That was the goal. But more importantly I realized that I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to build a life that would last for myself. And I was tired of being in love with people who I wasn't friends with. It seemed kind of vital to any kind of relationship you have in life – being a friend.

My New Year's resolution that year was that despite everyone in our way, Josh would become my best friend. I sealed the deal in my thoughts carefully, and I sent it off into the universe of the world. And I quietly and patiently plotted about what would happen next.

PART 108 - https://tinyurl.com/y8n3xvnb

PART 107 - https://tinyurl.com/y8uyusr7

PART 106 - https://tinyurl.com/ycqhlqsy

PART 105 - https://tinyurl.com/ybjvm23b

PART 104 - https://tinyurl.com/yauo5f78

PART 103 - https://tinyurl.com/yblwsv3p

PART 102 - https://tinyurl.com/yc5m3cq7

PART 101 - https://tinyurl.com/yafyhse2

PART 100 - https://tinyurl.com/ycvye2n4

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-100 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-100

[taeguklife]

known

taekook af pt. 4

highschool! au | sweetiepie! taehyung w/ player/basketball player!jungkook

summary; taehyung and jungkook are the type of people who are really known around the school by all of their classmates. ironically, they don’t know about each other…

warning; uh mature language ya

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

                                             oh wow, he’s cute

  A week has passed and plenty of things have been forgotten since Taehyung was having a terrible week. He wasn't getting up on time, he's been having to take his siblings to school, his mom has been fighting with him lately, and his grades have been slipping. He's been so stressed since its almost the end of the first semester and they will have the end of the year exams. He hasn't been himself and it was pretty frustrating. Even everyone at school had taken notice on how he looks tired and looked like he was fragile. He hated it.

He was doing well in English class for the first time in a week and was extremely thankful. Jimin gave Taehyung motivational speeches every day this week and he guesses it gave him some boost of confidence. While finishing a question that took him some time to figure out, he heard the door to his classroom open. Some people looked up but the others were too focused on their worksheet to even pay attention to the person who walked in.

Taehyung looked up and gasped since he thinks he might have seen the most beautiful person that God has created. The boy had black hair that was slightly parted so his forehead was showing and wearing a black shirt and black skinny jeans. Taehyung noticed how built and tall the boy was and was hooked. Even though Taehyung was in the middle of the classroom, he can swear he saw little gauges in the beautiful boy's ears. Damn. He's gorgeous. Taehyung widened his eyes and averted his gaze to his worksheet when he saw the boy scan the room, thankfully not meeting his gaze.

"Hello, Mrs.Lei, I wanted to know if I could finish the worksheet from earlier today? I didn't have time since Coach wanted to talk to me about something for next weeks game. " His voice is so nice, wow. Kind of familiar but whatever. I won't be able to remember anyway since I have terrible memory.

"Of course, you are one of my best students after all." Mrs.Lei smiled towards the handsome guy and told him to sit at any open seat he would like.

Taehyung decided to work on his English worksheet before he does anything stupid like stare at the boy who was painfully handsome. Taehyung pulled out his headphones and turned on some music and regained his focus on his worksheet. A couple moments after, the older boy saw a figure right next to the desk and looked up and saw that the supposedly younger boy sat right next to him. Jungkook greeted some friends that were on the other side of the desk and talked for a minute or two before working on the rest of his worksheet. Jungkook was nice to everyone so he tried to greet everyone that he knew in the class. He didn't know this one guy who was in the middle of the classroom who was focused on his work, though. Jungkook saw an empty desk near the cute blonde and decided to sit there.

Taehyung was currently listening to Yoongi's mixtape that he recently made. Yoongi came to school rather excited one day and wasn't even insulting Jimin. The younger boys knew he loved making music and what not, so they supported him 100%. He told them that he finally finished his mixtape and would love it if they, including Jimin, would listen to it. He told them he worked so hard and basically put his soul into this mixtape. Taehyung and Jimin loved it and showered Yoongi in compliments for weeks. Jimin felt weird for complimenting Yoongi but he just insulted him playfully about something later on in the day.

Taehyung was listening to "The Last" since its one of his favorites and was almost done with his worksheet. He was fairly good in all his classes but English was his best class. It was very easy for him to create stories and write essays. The stories they would read would always fascinate him. He loves reading in general, as well. He thinks he might be an English major when he gets into college but he isn't certain yet.

He suddenly felt a hand tap his left shoulder and jumped slightly while taking out his left earbud out. He immediately widened his eyes when he is faced with the handsome as hell teenager in the desk next to him, staring at him.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to scare you," He laughed while crinkling his nose up in the cutest way.

 Oh my god, do that again.

"N-No, its okay!" Taehyung stuttered. He was really nervous all of a sudden and wanted to shake it off but he couldn't when someone like him was in front of him looking like the handsome devil himself.

"I was just wondering if you can help me with this worksheet? I'm usually great in this class, but my coach wanted to talk to me about next weeks game so I missed part of the lesson." He smiled shyly while trying to remain eye contact. Jungkook isn't usually the shy type so it was really odd that he felt like he was about to blush by just asking a favor.

"Yeah, whats up?" Taehyung accepted as he tried to look at the cute boys paper without getting too close.

"Well, in this essay prompt at the bottom of the first page, it says "The girl was depressed every day but continued to be with the man she loved. He was the reason for her despair. Every day, he would make her feel even worse. He doesn't love her. But she loves him, so why does she stay?" And I know that this a 'read-between-the-lines kind of question, but that was part of today's lesson. You don't have to give me the answer, but can you help me understand a little bit?" The black haired boy bit his lip while staring at Taehyung intently while the other was thinking over the essay prompt. Mostly everyone got a different prompt so he was surprised how deep this one was.

"Okay, well, when you read this, how do you feel?" Taehyung asked without giving an actual answer like the other said.

"I feel kind of sorry for her, you know. I mean she's sad because of this man. Why doesn't she leave him? Is he forcing her? Why isn't she leaving?" Jungkook explained what was going through his head.

"Try to put yourself in her shoes. Its all in between the lines. The whole reason why she hasn't left is in there." Taehyung said patiently, knowing somehow that this student was going to get it right then and there.

"I-Okay, if I was her, having a partner that made me depressed and didn't love me but I still stayed..." Then his eyes slightly widen, now knowing the answer in between the lines, "I'm staying because if I wasn't, then I would be lonely. I- well she feels like if she left him, that no one else would be there for her. She's afraid to be alone. So, she thinks staying with him will be better. " Jungkook explained, while Taehyung just smiled widely that he got it and understood rather quickly. "So far away" was playing while he was explaining the answer and it made his heart swell since it set the mood. Staring at the beautiful boy didn't help either.

"Thank you so much, dude. That really helped." Funny how both of them don't realize that he helped him before but they don't need to know that until later, right?

"No problem." Taehyung simply said, about to put his earbud back in while Agust D came on a couple seconds beforehand, Yoongi already rapping amazingly.

Taehyung didn't notice how loud his music had been, or how close he was to Jungkook previously but Jungkook ended up hearing it anyways.

"W-what are you listening to?" Jungkook said with interest.

"Hu-oh! Its one of my best friends mixtape. His name is Yoongi? I don't know if you know him, but yeah. He's been working on this for years and it's really good and wow I'm rambling. I'm going to shut up now."Taehyung blushed. Taehyung was used to talking a lot but he sometimes felt like it was a burden to others especially to people that didn't know him.

"Nah, that's cool. It sounds dope. Is it on soundcloud or anything?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah, he told me its on there and it has plenty of views which is pretty cool. Just search up "Agust D" like A-G-U-S-T and then a D and you shall find the mixtape." Taehyung exclaimed excitingly, happy that someone that Yoongi might not know will listen to his mixtape.

"I'll listen to it tonight." Jungkook smiled softly while staring intently at the boy who he doesn't know the name of yet. He intended on asking the cute boy his name but then was distracted by his friend telling him about this girl he recently banged, leaving Taehyung to go back to his work, not bothered one bit by not knowing the youngers name.

-

"So, let me get this straight...you saw a hot ass person in your English class and you didn't ask him his name?!" Jimin screeched towards Taehyung. They were currently getting video games at a game store that also had anime related stuff for sale.

Taehyung huffed, picking up a scary looking anime, examining it," I was too focused on how beautiful he was, okay? He probably doesn't want to talk to me anymore, anyways. He just needed help on his worksheet." He huffed as he put the anime down.

"But he also asked what you were listening to and he didn't have to give a shit about that whatsoever." Jimin inquired, rolling his eyes.

"He liked the music, which is good for Yoongi. Ugh. He was just hot as hell. He was so hot that he might as well be the devil himself." Taehyung whined.

-

"You what now?" Namjoon asked Jungkook. They were currently at a music store filled with records and cds everywhere.

"I went to English class, cause you know how I am I like my grades to always be up and I also like to be caught up. I sat next to a really cute boy with a nice side profile."

"Cute? Since when do you call people cute?" Namjoon snorted.

"Fuck you, I don't always call people 'hot' and 'bangable' like you do. Bitch." Jungkook sneered. Namjoon may have been his best friend since he was little but he can't lie about his best friend being a fuckboy sometimes. Everyone calls Jungkook a fuckboy but Namjoon is the real fuckboy.

"Though, I probably would bang him and he's hot too. Anyway, " Jungkook heard Namjoon whisper pervert and decided not to reply to it and continue his story," I asked him to help me with my work and then we talked about what he was listening to which I'm going to listen to later." Jungkook nodded, reminding himself again to listen to the mixtape. "I don't know man. He's so pretty. He's like an angel. Fuck, what am I saying?"

"Gay," Namjoon said while cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, fuckboy."

Jungkook actually went home that night and listened to Agust D's mixtape and was blown away. He was so glad that he decided to sit to the cute boy. He got to sit next to an angel, he got his work done, and he got to listen to new music. It was a great day.

[kuragecharms]

One(1) whole ramble about being INTJ

It’s weird to watch videos about INTJs from the perspectives of other types, in all honesty. Sometimes it feels as if there is a whole lot of very shallow stereotyping going on, other times it hits the nail right on the head and I’m laughing. 

Of course, MBTI is not a personality quiz, it’s a thought type indicator. But there ARE some common shared experiences. So I guess it’s nice sometimes to realize that others have the same struggles as yourself. I’m gonna talk a bit about some common categories and labels placed on INTJs, and kind of...rant about my experiences with (or without) them. :>

The INTJ “death glare”

One thing that almost always gets thrown in on some sort of comment is the “infamous INTJ death stare.” I realized this about myself over a decade before I even heard the term MBTI breathed aloud, in all honesty it was a big stumbling block.

My natural instinct is direct eye contact. I don’t naturally show a lot of emotion on my face, etc. It’s a learned behavior because honestly, it’s more efficient to fit into some social status quos in order to be understood better, right? Saying it that directly can sound cold or calculating to some people, but it’s the truth, as far as I’m concerned. The whole “just be yourself!” thing works.... IF you are naturally charismatic or have a grasp on socialization tactics. Or if you are surrounded by people who can more naturally understand you. But for a rare type, for a highly introverted, independent, often over-opinionated blunt speaking female? The truth of the matter is, no matter who I’m dealing with, there’s some level of adjustment going on. I think that’s why i was drawn to languages from a young age. The prospect of conveying complex thought in another venue entirely was appealing to me. Being understood is a goal. I picked out patterns of speech from the internet, from books, from those around me, and would apply them (often quite consciously) in order to get my points across. In debate forums, I was often praised mostly for my ability to convey what others had been thinking, but in a clear to understand format. That was because it was my whole goal.

I remember being really young, like...less than ten? I think I was about 6-7 years old. When my parents would rebuke me for something I’d done, I would sometimes cry. That’s not a necessarily strong stereotype for INTJs, but it does happen. I felt things really deeply, and never knew how to grapple with them when a strong emotion interrupted my play, so that’s the best I can describe it as. Eventually, I got told to stop crying so much, so I would steel myself for such rebukes. Now, my natural instinct is to meet someone’s eyes. I know this, even though sometimes I doubt it because of the strength of my learned behavior. But I distinctly remember BOTH of my parents pausing in the middle of getting after me to say, “Why are you looking at me like that?!” and I would ask, “Like what?” They usually didn’t have a very good description of what the look was, but the gist of it was, I suppose, that it looked like I was judging them. I don’t know why this bothered them so much, because at the time I wasn’t usually striving to be petulant (although on occasion the look came about when I was thinking about the unfairness of my punishment). My mother (INFJ) was particularly bothered by it, especially because she was the more involved parent. Sometimes, it really seemed to throw her off, to the point that we got off the topic of the immediate punishment, and I was told to watch my attitude on things. Which, in retrospect, is fair. You don’t want an egotistical child. But I was confused because I didn’t see it that way. The world was always one to question, and my mother raised me with that philosophy, but there was a limit to it that I hadn’t felt out quite yet.

I did understand, though, that my expression was discomfiting to some. It happened with more frequency, often with my siblings. My younger INFP sibling would sometimes cry when I would look at her with any strength of feeling, and say that I was glaring or judging. Very rarely was this intentional, I promise.

When I reached high school, I would sometimes examine my own expression in the mirror or in photos. I don’t think mine is a very harsh face in general, so the accusations were confusing. But I decided I needed to adjust. It was easier, not only to avoid the ‘glare’ of judgement, but also to control my own emotions, if I didn’t make too much eye contact. I started to deliberately look away from people’s faces after a few seconds, because I wanted them to know I was listening, but also that I wasn’t focusing in too harshly in order to judge them personally. It seems to work, so it’s something I’ve kept with.

But lately, I’ve been wanting to focus on being truer to myself, and get back to the roots of my own natural self, and re-establish myself with the added information I’ve learned over the years. I want to make eye contact, even if it seems intense. My natural instinct is part of who I am. If I’m truly engaged by a topic, my learned behaviors weaken, and I realize I make much eye contact. I lean in and I pay 100% attention to the conversation at hand. The majority of the time, I don’t make eye contact at all, both because of my investment in the topic but also my gauging of how much eye contact I can make with the other party without infringing on their comfort level. I want to care about this less. I’m well aware I can be too intense of a personality for some, so I can withhold or gauge myself in most instances. But with this, I think I should be allowed a little more natural habit.

The Know-It-All/”Too Smart”

In uni, I wasn’t AFRAID to answer questions, but I rarely did after the first semester. I was just being myself and came across as a know-it-all or pompous, because I was nervous and focused on the class material, which some people weren’t (admittedly, it was gen eds, so it isn’t a commonly attractive set of courses anyways). I started setting goals before each class, like, “You should only answer three questions at most for this class.” and such like that. It wasn’t really to make others like me, as I already had established that reputation and I didn’t make moves to change it. But it was because I had to adjust, to improve, to better blend in.

When I DID answer questions, half the time it was to help other classmates. I’d look around and realize others weren’t getting what the professor was saying, so I’d raise my hand and state something like, “When you say X...do you mean that Y?” and I would elaborate Y as a more relatable, easier to digest phrasing or simile. The professor would often be a bit confused, but I’ve literally heard classmates around me go, “Ohhhhhh” with realization. Things went a bit smoother after that. I was seen as studious, but less pompous.

I’ve never thought of intelligence or logic being partial to female or male, or emotions being preferred by female or male, until I interacted and socialized more. Naturally, my instinct is to not distinguish. I grew up homeschooled, in a family where the boys and girls boy cooked and cleaned and cried, and we were ALL avid readers. My natural tendency to debate was often rebutted by my older brother, and I saw us on equal ground.

In middle school, I saw the huge difference in the way my father treated my brother and I (we’re both INTJs) and how hard this was on him. He was told not to have emotions, and for an INTJ? We already struggle enough with this. Being told not to cry at much, after all, instigated a huge self-study in my own expression and aura. 

Looking back, I was pretty naive about it. I wanted to prove myself as strong as my father and brother. I did this physically (my relatives know me to be the girl who pushes in to help move furniture. It’s caused some pretty sexist debates, in all honesty) emotionally and psychologically. I wanted to prove that there was no difference between my brother and I, and I tried very, very hard.

I’ve since come to terms with the fact that the difference in treatment had more to do with my father’s underlying sexism and not much to do with my own competency, or my brother’s. I’ve accepted my own strengths and still see us as equals, and I have nothing to prove to anyone else in regards to that. Rather than proving anyone wrong about me, I do it because it’s efficient and positive to take care of things on my own and for the sake of my own independence.

I’ve been told, however, that I’m “too smart” for a girl. I’ve been literally told that I’ll scare men off with my words. I’m normally quiet, in person. But when broaching a topic of some knowledge or interest, I will instantly just explode with thoughts or theories, discussion and debates. I’ve exchanged 2-3 messages with a person before going off on a multi-paragraph rant (via text) about MBTI and its common misconceptions.I’m just like that. I don’t see it as showing off my intelligence but an opportunity to engage with others in a mutually educational environment.

Again, I see myself as not having anything to prove. I’m no astrophysicist. I suck at math. I’m good at English. I like talking about things I’m interested in, but I know when I’m not an expert or have insufficient knowledge. But it can be very disheartening to know that just being my natural self and actually being engaged without holding back constantly is seen as an attack on someone else’s ego, or that I’m scaring people off. I want to engage with ideas and such. If everyone is intimidated by me, with my speech and my eye contact, then those opportunities are lost. 

I know what I know, so I feel confident. But I also know how much I do NOT know, so I feel humbled and eager to learn. I don’t see that as a character flaw, although many would paint it as cockiness.

INTJ’s organization/strictness

It’s another common trope. I’ll see people talk about INTJs being rigid about things, unable to admit that they’re wrong, distant or set in their ways, liking the routine. I find some of this true, but not most. Because this is getting a bit far into the personality side of things, rather than a thought type, the way that most people apply it.

Do I like things organized? Yes. Am I organized? Sometimes, just like anybody. Do I like to know what’s expected of me? Hell yes. Am I unable to adapt (for example, if I’m talking with someone more emotional )? That’s just limiting. As I said, socially speaking, I HAVE to adapt. I’m well aware of being the minority. Most people don’t wanna say, “Hello, let’s analyze film cinematography for fun” they wanna get to know each other on topics that I, frankly speaking, find dull. I have to fight to pay attention to half the conversations I have, I have to nod and make noises to acknowledge that I’m listening CONSTANTLY. That’s how it is. I can adapt. I’m not always as flexible as I’d like, and to err is human. But INTJs are box-people, I assure you. 

But man, do I fucking love spreadsheets. I love using succinct methods to help introduce others to MBTI, for instance. I have condensed explanations of the letters and typing help and such, all prepared. I have lists of people I’ve typed and it’s color-coded. It goes along with that efficiency of explaining to others my viewpoints. :> If I’m easy to understand through my words, I feel I’ve succeeded in a task.

I think the part where I get the most rigid and immovable, is when it comes to planning social time. I’m very withdrawn and I’ve discovered over the years that, even when I’ve learned to adjust, my ability to socialize is still very limited and EXTREMELY draining. Given that INTJs are, on the gradient scale, among the very utmost independent and introverted, this isn’t so surprising. I have to gear up for social interactions, and often this takes hours of mental prep. I spend most of my time on a computer, writing down my own thoughts or organizing things, rather than interacting. I keep my cell phone IN MY HAND during new situations and social events, almost the entire time. I’ve learned that if I can pull away and, say, check my messages or Twitter, it pulls my head out of the socializing (even if just for a few moments) and let me reassess and recharge a bit. Am I actually tired, or just need a bathroom break? Am I done for the night, or is my leaving a bit too premature? Constant interaction with anyone outside my immediate family is draining, even if I’m enjoying myself and having a good time. (With my family, I’m more blunt, easy going, and very positive, I think. I tend to be physically clingy and talk a LOT more freely) So I have to gauge myself, and I can feel myself getting overdrawn sometimes.

Even just running into someone by accident at the store can jolt my energy levels. I’ve been known to duck around corners if I see someone I know (even if I like them, generally speaking) because I wasn’t ready for an interaction, mentally.

Now, when I know what’s expected and how much socializing I need, I’m fine, and very dedicated. I had a monthly social meet up with my friends in Japan, and I liked that. I LOVED it, actually. I knew about how long I’d be out, when I was expected to show up, and once a month filled my social meter pretty well. It was with a close-knit group I could be fairly comfortable with, and my warmer sides had a chance to shine.

At work now, I’m garnering a reputation for being independent. I do my tasks early in the evening, usually, and then I’m fine being at my desk for 4-6 hours even if I don’t see or hear from a living soul. One coworker informed the shift manager that he didn’t even need to check up on me or anything, that I was perfectly fine on my own. It was stated like it was something worth note, although I saw it as natural. lol It was a bit amusing.

The organizing thing is kinda true, though. I recently decided to respond to a YouTube comment (a very, very rare experience) and I actually bullet-pointed my reasons why the original commenter was mistaken, in order to make myself more succinct. lol When I replied I had to laugh at my own actions.

Other/misc.

Among strangers, I rarely speak my own opinions or thoughts at any length. I can work in a place for a year and not reveal anything more than what is asked of me. This can cause problems. I often have a lot to share with others, whether it’s creatively or in theories or advice. I have many thoughts, but... my “efficiency” stamp and also my increasing self-awareness of others’ perceptions of me, holds a lot of this back. It’s not like I particularly blame anyone for this, it’s really my own decision.

But to me, I’d decided that if someone ASKS me about something, then they care enough to know the answer. If I mentioned my work once, and someone asks about it, I’ll answer them. If they want to know my thoughts or feelings on something, I don’t hesitate to start formulating a reply. I have a thought on MOST things. BUT, if I’m not asked? I assume it isn’t on their mind as vital enough to get an answer on. I wouldn’t want to bother elaborating a whole goddamn essay when they weren’t interested, right? That’s when I get the “Wow. lol You wrote a lot.” and no thoughtful response, which is disheartening when I want to exchange ideas and got excited or invested. 

So if they don’t ask, it’s not that I exactly hold onto it or get bitter. But I take that as data for gauging future conversations. If a friend of mine isn’t interested in a fact about me, I don’t offer similar data in the future.

For example, I don’t really do much to celebrate my birthday anymore. i explained to my mother that being the center of attention and getting a lot of OBLIGATORY wishes of good will is not how I feel special or loved. I’d rather get to sleep in, eat what I like, I’d rather spend quality time with people, or relax. Usually this means not going out or anything.

Now, if someone wishes me happy birthday? That’s fine. I don’t get a whole lot out of it, but... it’s still kinda nice? But I hate when people do it purely out of obligation. So my resolution to this was to remove my birthday from Facebook. The only people who wish me happy bday are those who already know me and that date, not because FB reminded them of an obligation. 

I have no problem telling people I’m a Capricorn or such, or a winter baby. But I usually don’t give the exact date of my bday because I don’t want others to feel pressured to remember it or care too much about it, or feel guilty if they missed it. If they ask when my birthday is? I’ll tell them. If the day comes, I don’t hide it. But I think that those who would genuinely care about wishing my happy birthday come along, that they’ll ask,and then I can offer that info. This kind of logic goes across the board, really.

To some people, this is seen as manipulative. I’ve been accused of ‘testing’ my friendships and their sincerity with this, or being passive aggressive. It’s not really my intent, but because of the accusation, I try to re-evaluate such behaviors and try to ensure that these truly ARE my reasonings, and not because I’m secretly seeking attention or validation. 

~~

It’s hard to be understood as an INTJ, I suppose. There’s a lot more than goes into this. I know MBTI isn’t a 100% thing (all psychology is a soft science, anyhow) but I like to use MBTI as a sort of helper, or key, in understanding commonly misunderstood behaviors in me. I know it’s helped me navigate social interactions a lot, and I’ve grown as a person because of it. 

One common problem I’ve had is...well... basically anything in the realms of emotion. That fucking Fi tertiary function, goddamn it. lol 

It’s hard to explain, but the easiest way I’ve found is to tell people that sometimes my emotions “are on a delay.” For example, I’ll go to an event with my friends - like a concert - and I don’t have much exterior emotions about it. My ESFP friend is literally jumping up and down and screaming, while I feel like all my enjoyment is trapped inside my body, and my body won’t move and dance too freely. I’d rather stand very still and enjoy the music, even if I’m having just as good a time. I’m too busy internalizing things to ‘let go’ as the ESFP would. lol

As another example, when I first went to a haunted house, I did enjoy my time there. But emotionally? I wasn’t sure until like two or three days later, when I was thinking back on it. I didn’t know if I’d go again, or if I had fun, or if I liked it. I knew the experience, as I’d lived it, but my FEELINGS on the matter didn’t get processed for a few days. This seems odd, I know. But it makes big emotional events that I get up to very hard to process. Going to Japan, I didn’t properly “feel” excited to be going until like a week after I got there. lol 

One sign that I’ve really enjoyed myself or am emotionally worked up, is that bc I don’t externalize it, I get a headache. After the haunted house, because I hadn’t screamed or let out any outward stress or emotions, everything was bottled in during processing, and I got a really intense headache from it. Recently, I met an online friend of mine in person for the first time, and I could tell I was excited, mostly because my head started hurting once I picked her up.

It’s hard to really explain what that sort of experience is like, but it’s the best I’ve come up with so far. My brain is still processing how I feel about things. This gets confusing when you’re having an argument with a friend. If I feel MORE emotional about a topic, I tend to withdraw and speak more bluntly, and more objectively. This irritates the fuck out of a lot of people, who think I’m shutting down on them. What’s really going on is that, I feel emotionally compromised, and I want to make the argument PRODUCTIVE and EFFICIENT. So I look for a solution to the issue, and doing so requires focusing on the facts, with the way my mind works. “Okay, so you feel the chores aren’t fair. What would you designate as a fair amount? Then who will take care of this?” It sounds accusatory, so I have to phrase things in questions, instead of demands, because I’m trying to find a solution, not attack. I don’t mind conflict, if it’s productive towards improving a situation. 

When I do get emotional? It’s a fucking mess. But even then, I often shut down the emotional side of things and bury it until I’ve processed it and can examine it later. This delay often means people are disappointed by my lack of reaction to certain things, or feel like I don’t care as much as I do. Which usually isn’t the case.

This also means that a lot of relationships, I’m focusing more on the benefits or chemistry of, and I guess that makes people put INTJs on a pedestal? I could elaborate on that and how it’s affected a lot of my relationships, resulting many times in friendships where the other person gets very dependent on me for affirmation or help, and feels closer to me than I feel to them. But... I guess that’s for another day. lol

Essentially, I guess, some stereotypes have their basis in the truth. But I feel like life as an INTJ is a lot more nuanced, especially those that genuinely seek to improve themselves through the understanding being INTJ in a world where we’re rare, rather than just inflating our egos immaturely with the TITLE of “the scientist.”