#but i'm seeing a few people say that the intimacy coordinator would be under an nda

[pynkhues]

Sam also talked about having an Intimacy Coordinator (https://variety.com/2022/tv/news/interview-with-the-vampire-series-intimacy-coordinators-1235338511/) and the writer’s account also tweeted about it: https://x.com/iwtvwriters/status/1885428614256021722?s=46

Nice! Thank you for the links!

[robotlesbianjavert]

I am feeding on the spinaraki but I just had a cold realization that hori might’ve been setting up dabitoga as a duo counterpart this whole time… I am not at all a fan because isn’t toga based off of harley and dabi inspired by joker? The most famous abuser-victim dynamic in comics? That plus the age difference, hori better not imply anything romantic, not even a blossoming crush from toga because that would ruin some things for me

if it makes you feel more at ease i am 150% sure that the narrative isn't setting up a dabitoga duo in any narrative changing way (particularly in the romantic sense), or that any joker & harley quinn parallels that the characters have aren't strong enough or utilized in a way that might indicate a similar dynamic.

i did a quick look to see if there was any official word on whether toga was inspired by harley in any way - didn't find anything, though if someone does have that confirmation let me know. in any case, while i'm most familar with her b:tas incarnation, i wouldn't be surprised if harley was a source of inspiration for the creation of toga. they are blonde, firstly. they got cheerful demeanors belying their internal struggles, they're acrobatic, regarded as crazy by those around them. they are both preoccupied with love, and most importantly are sapphic icons.

but aside from those basic points, toga stands on her own as a character enough that she's more than a possible harley quinn expy, and further comparisons fall apart under scrutiny.

toga is a teenager vs harley having been an adult professional.

harley's turn into villainy is generally instigated by her relationship with the joker and the intimacy he promises her (idk about every incarnation but that's the backstory i'm familiar with) while toga's is instigated by wider societal attitudes and quirk-based urges she lacks support to deal with.

both characters in some way seek validation and understanding in their pursuit of love, but harley is trapped in her relationship with the joker because of the intimacy he promises her between the abuse, the way he makes her feel special and worthless in turns, and she twists herself around for his approval. in contrast, toga's crush on ochaco and deku is strongly characterized by her trying to get them to meet her on her level, wants to be loved as is without changing herself for their approval.

so there's similarities between the characters, but toga's plotline is very much her own, not a riff on or or commentary about harley quinn. that's all toga babeyyyyyyy

dabi very decisively i will say is not inspired by the joker. mostly because when i searched to see if there was any official word on that, all i got was a bunch of articles claiming that "dabi's dance" was an homage to that joker dance from that joker movie which joker happened. which i always felt was really, really weak and predicated on knowing that horikoshi obviously knows who the joker is, as a comics fan. dabi's too janky and excitable to be the be the slow and methodical bathroom dance, not coordinated enough for the stairway scene, and none of his movies just really line up to anything joker does? like the connection just seems to be "has danced and is also a villain".

i've also seen people reference this art he did as anime promo as a dabi-joker reference, but i think dabi wearing a raggedy suit isn't like. super joker core of him. again the connection is just like. "wore a suit and is also a villain".

there's just not much in terms of dabi's history, ideology, or motivations that matches up with any particularly iconic joker characterization or lore. dabi is pretty well defined, whereas joker has existed for a gazillion years in so many incarnations that him having a multiple choice past is actually a valuable part of his characterization in a few versions.

interestingly, there are some characters that fare better as potentially joker inspired.

twice in a way that is very much iconic gets the "all it takes is one bad day" theme established by the killing joke in reference to his backstory in MVA; he and toga (in another harley shout out for her) had the inside cover of Volume 16 resemble a popular harley quinn & joker cover. but again, twice's reaction to his bad day was overall different from the joker, and his relationship with toga is drastically different from joker & harley.

redestro when first introduced got a lot of joker comparisons for his appearance, animated physicality, and a bit of flair for showmanship. but again in reality he is very different from the joker in terms of his ideology and goals.

i guess you can say that shigaraki shares a lot of the nihilism that joker often gets characterized with? but again. that's about it lmao.

basically, i think you can see bits and pieces of the joker in parts of bnha, but bnha does not have a joker, if that makes sense.

i also don't think that dabi & toga, while they do have a dynamic that gets a lil highlight in the last arc, it isn't really prominent or a driving force for either character. dabi's motivations are always primarily going to be tied to his family; toga was already in Thee Iconic Duo with twice, and since then a lot of her narrative motion has been tied into ochaco.

prior to the third act, their relationship was mostly dabi calling her crazy while she was normal and polite at him. there's stuff to work with, but honestly not a lot there if someone wants to make dabi and toga Significant.

when i get really excited about spinaraki as a duo and their narrative potential, it's because spinner's characterization for almost 200 chapters (WHOA) has been distinguished by shigaraki inspiring him and spinner growing to care about him, and it's emphasized in every appearance from mva onwards. for spinner, his relationship with shigaraki is a driving part of his narrative.

with shigaraki, his feelings about the league were much more idk spread out, though his most prominent dynamic up to the point of mva had been with toga and twice during the yakuza arc - and then frustratingly since mva his feelings about the league are skirted around and avoided. up until NOW in 411 with a SPINNER MENTION that is EXPLICITLY TIED into what spinner had been so awed by in mva, that gotdamn horizon babes, which still may not necessarily pay off with further insight into shigaraki's thoughts about spinner and the league but i hope will pay off in a way that i can say. Spinaraki Real.

anyways really long way to say that i wouldn't worry about it 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 i will protect you from this possibility.

[youandi-indefiance]

Touch || (d.h.)

Yaaaay my first imagine!! Go easy on me please 😂 i had fun writing it (mostly because I'm absolutely in love with diego) so uh, enjoy? Feedback would be appreciated!

TW: Mentions of death and nightmares, blood, injury, angst? Fluff?

···

The screen in front of you stung your eyes as you read the bold letters.

"MYSTERY SHOOTING AT MOTEL LEAVES DETECTIVE DEAD"

As soon as you read the headline, you wanted to change the channel, but two familiar titles caught your eye.

Patch. Kraken.

They think he did it.

You gripped the remote tightly in your fingers, switching the channel as you rose from your seat. Your other hand flew to the counter, picking up your phone and dialing a number.

You clutched it and held it to your ear, the vibrations sending chills down your spine.

He didn't answer.

It went to an automated voicemail. He was too paranoid to make his own, his voice projected for anyone to hear.

You didn't leave a message, you hit cancel and tried again. Vibration.

Again. Vibration.

You sighed, frustration building. Had something happened? Was he okay? Had he gotten himself into trouble?

You were about to go and grab your coat and search for him when a knock sounded through your apartment.

You nearly dropped your phone when you rushed to the door, peering through the peephole. You pulled the door open with wide eyes.

The man you love covered in blood is never something you want to see again.

Diego's lips were slightly parted as he inhaled quietly, as if he was afraid to breathe too loud. He was drenched from head to toe and his hair clung to his forehead.

He didn't look at you.

"I... I need a place to stay." He muttered.

He said it too slow, too calculated. Diego was never good with words, literally and metaphorically. You knew about his looming speech impediment, about his past. His time in the Acadamy had hardened him emotionally, and he had a hard time opening up to people. If he ever were to say anything with coordination, that meant that he had practiced it.

He was starting to sway, his eyes growing unfocused as you reached out gently.

You couldn't tell if it was from grief or shock or injury, or maybe all of the above. Death takes a toll on all it affects, even the most stoic. You carefully slid your arms under his armpits, wary of any injuries he may have, and led him slowly to the couch. Most of his weight was on you, causing you to stumble slightly as you eased him into the cushions of your couch.

"Let's take off your jacket, love," you cooed, coaxing the thick fabric off his shoulders with no restraint.

You placed the soaked jacket in the crook of your elbow, rising to your feet to go retrieve the med kit from the bathroom. On your way there, you dropped his coat into the washer.

As you returned to sit on your knees in front of him, his eyes never left his hands. They were covered in sticky, thick blood.

His lip quivered as you gently wiped it off with a damp rag, working slowly on the tips of his fingers, then his knuckles, then his rough palms.

"P-Patch is dead." He worked out of his trembling lips, more to himself than to you.

You nodded placidly, unable to forget the names that flashed on your TV screen.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You whispered to him.

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. A few tears escaped from his dark eyes, and your finger naturally was there to wipe it away.

It was you every time. Whenever he needed a shoulder to cry on, it was always you. Not Patch. But you understood fully why it was hard for him. They had an ugly break-up years ago, and were just now beginning to talk again. After all the work to get over her, he finally did, and now she was dead. No chances anymore, to become friends like he wanted.

You set the rag aside and left to get a towel for his hair. When you came back, his eyes were more hooded than before. He was exhausted. You could tell just by looking at him.

"Diego," you said tenderly, running your hand along his chilled arm. "You know you can sleep? You know you're safe here."

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "M'fine." He mumbled, blinking furiously.

You sighed and brought the towel up to his head, gently dabbing the towel onto his hair to get the moisture out of it. Drying his hair turned slowly into carefully massaging his head and neck. Working at knots and rubbing the tension from his shoulders. As you worked, his head slowly began to fall to the side.

"That's it, sweetheart," You reached up and cupped his cheek with your hand, gingerly running your thumb against his sealed lips.

He sighed through his nose, his face was slack, but it still held a certain sadness that you couldn't seem to shake. He unconsciously nuzzled into your touch, the warmth of your hand like a beacon to his cold skin.

Touch was something he craved. Whether it was a simple peck on the cheek, or you wrapping your body around his and holding him close. He was a stoic, solitary man, but he also needed something. He needed to know that he wasn't unknown. He needed reassurance that you were there. There were nights that he woke up in a cold sweat, mumbling and crying when he thinks you're asleep. You know that he needs intimacy. He needs the world to forget that he was once an academy kid, but you to stay close.

Diego twitched in his sleep. You guided his head to rest on the back of the couch, instead of your hand, which was growing tired under his stubbled cheek.

Then, with both hands, you guided his body down into the cushions, pulling a blanket over his sleeping form.

You smiled sleepily down at the tired vigilante, leaning down and pecking him on the forehead.

Scratching your head and rubbing your eyes, you settled down into the chair opposite of him, drifting slowly to sleep.

[wordsonpages1-blog]

So I'm really needing some bughead multiple orgasms or denied orgasm smut and I'm blushing so hard as a read this 😳😳😳 the phrase "don't come" does crazy things to me...

Well hello anon! You’re blushing? You should see me after writing this haha

Sorry for the wait on this one! I hope this is sort of what you were after!

warnings: smut. smut. smut. sin. smut. more sin. more smut. I’m going to hell because smut. 

In the Night: 

It’s late; her room shrouded with darkness, the soft pinksand coordinated pastels disappearing into shades of black. Betty likes thenights. She likes the stillness outside her window, the insanity of the townfading away for a few hours as the people slept. The line drawn between theNorth and South sides of Riverdale ever so stark in the day, blurring into thecloak of ebony; still inherently there, but easier to ignore.  

But there was one thing about the nights that she liked farmore than any of its rivals. And that thing was the dark haired boy thatclimbed through her window as the hours of late night morphed into earlymorning.

He would clamber through the frame sometimes with a charmingsmile on his lips and a light in his eyes, sometimes with a deep frown and atense jaw. Sometimes he would find her with clenched fists and tear stainedcheeks, other nights a playful smirk and a teasing comment. His beaniediscarded, her hair down they would talk into the next day about school,movies, books and his new home, about civil wars and leather jackets, aboutwell-established facades, jailed fathers, pregnant sisters, and strugglingfriends.

Sometimes they would lie comfortably on the bed, leaninginto each other, subtle brushes of hands on skin or through hair. And othernights-nights like this one- their embraces were much more passionate, theirintent far from innocent. On nights like this, they would muffle moans inpillows and necks; make the other writhe as they succumbed to the inferno theyhad built. Their eyes would meet heady and dark, a breath would hitch, a groanwould resound, fingers reaching, filthy words whispered in ears. It was slowand sensual, hot and heavy, fast and passionate; an intricate push and pull ofcontrol.

Betty loved the nights, craving their intimacy like nothingelse. She craved his body, his mind, his touch, his soul. Him.

Her eyes roamed him now. He was beautiful. Jughead’s chestwas bared to her, revealing the hard planes, the lean muscles of his arms, andthe subtle yet prominent ridges of his abdomen. Her lilac sheets pooled around his waist, the sharp v at his hipsteasing her line of sight to what lay below. She bit her lip as her heavy gazetrailed back up his olive tinged skin, her fingers reaching out to tracepatterns across it. It was warm under her touch, soothing. She ran trails uptoward his collar bones, dipping into the hollows, before tracing up his neckconnecting the moles. She marvelled at the symmetry of his face, the sharplines of his jaw, his long dark lashes and full lips. Finally, her hands movedto his hair, running through the dark locks with a gentleness that wasbordering on fragile. It made his heart stutter in his chest, the effect onlymatched by the longing and loving tint in her gaze.

Betty had always thought he was handsome, always felt thepull of attraction whenever she looked his way or caught him looking hers. Butit was here in these moments, reserved just for the two of them, liberated fromthe expectations and confrontations of the world that she felt most enamouredwith him. It was here in her bed where she wanted him most. Just like this,where the walls he built so high around everyone else were pulled down for her.

Jughead watched her graze his form intently. His tonguedarting out to lick his lips while his arms rested under his head on thepillow. She felt hot under his eyes, the air around them crackling withelectricity as she moved her hands back down to trail his chest again.  

She had already had him so many times tonight, but god shewas so enraptured with him and she couldn’t help but think she would never haveenough.

Jughead raised his eyebrows at her as her stare locked onhis and an amused smirk twitched at his lips. Betty felt the thrill of desireflood her body again, shivers running down her spine as the temperature in the roomrose, and the ache between her thighs made itself known.

She was sitting next to him on the bed, her legs crossed hist-shirt the only item she adorned. Jughead thinks she’s never looked moreenticing then she does right now, hair wild, eyes darkened with want andwidened in awe, lips swollen.

He raises up on one forearm unable to resist her muchlonger, his other hand moving to slide along her thigh in a teasing caress.

“I feel objectified,” he whispers in the air between them,the sarcasm of the comment blending with his husky voice in a way that makeswetness pool between her legs as a consequence of its sensuality.

Her hands come up to rest against his shoulders, palms flatagainst the hot skin.

“You should,” she responds breathlessly, her tone unabashedlyfull of desire.

He raises a sardonic brow at her again, as he sits up fullynow, the sheet dropping lower and she fights with her will power to not followits lapse with her eyes.

“You’re quite the looker,” she elaborates, although it comesout broken as his hands slide under his t-shirt on her body, resting againsther hips and pulling her up on her knees.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, the word delivered on her mouth as hislips brush against her own, a whisper of contact she so holistically craves.

Betty nods, her eyes drifting shut as a whine erupts fromher throat. His fingers have ventured higher, one circling the outline of herbreast, the other brushing her hair back off her face.

He captures her lips then, an opened mouth kiss so sensualand full of promise, lingering and hot. It’s a promise that she knows well and itenlivens her. She licks the taste of him- cigarettes, cola and her ownstrawberry lip gloss- from her lips, her eyes opening to look at him throughheavy lids. A stray ebony curl falls over his eyes, which are a stormy shadefrom his own want and damn if hedoesn’t look the epitome of sex appeal right now.

His breath tickles her skin, so close yet so far and herhands grip his shoulders tighter, wanting waiting.

“Juggie,” she whimpers as the hand under her shirt ghostsacross her breast, barely touching the peaked nipple that signifies her arousalalong with the dampness between her thighs. He smirks again she feels it on herskin as he drops a feather light kiss to collar bone.

“Yeah baby?”

Betty throws her head back. His nose brushes hers. She achesfor him. His gentle touches are setting her every nerve on edge, alight andalert, buzzing.  She’s dizzy in a way shenever thought she could be sober and it makes her feel so alive. But she needsmore. There’s a pulsing between her legs.

“Please,” she breathes on his lips the sound almostembarrassingly wanton. It only strokes his ego though, further igniting hislust for her, reaffirming his enthrallment with the beautifully dishevelled andbroken blonde he’s lucky enough to call his own.

He loves these moments. The one’s in which she relinquishesthe control she fights so hard to keep in every other aspect of her life overto him. Let’s him take charge, enjoys when he takes charge.

“Please touch me.” His eyes darken at her words impossiblyfurther and her heart thumps violently in her chest in response. His treacherousfingers dance down her rib cage and she lets out a huff of frustration, eyessliding shut.

“I am Betts,” his words spoken softly, yet sinfully in herear, his teeth ever so slightly grazing the shell. Betty’s glad she hadn’tbothered to put panties on again because she’s sure if she had they’d be ruinedby now. She shakes her head, a gasp leaving her pink lips as a strong handcradles her jaw in a firm grip. Her eyes open. She swallows thickly as sheloses herself in the desire she reads in his eyes.

“Tell me what you want Betty,” he rasps and her knees buckleat the pure lust in his voice. She’s panting and she’s sure in any otheruniverse with any other boy she would be offended by the assertions, ashamed ofher behaviour, but here with him it just feels right and natural and so hot.

He waits for an answer, his hands moving from her jaw to herhips again, lifting her from her collapsed heap beside him and onto his lap.Her legs automatically open for him, one knee either side of his hips. Shebucks against him and keens as she feels his hardness against her wantingcentre.

Jughead’s teeth nip at her collar bone and she tries togrind against him harder but his strong grip on her hips hold her just abovehis erection now. She’s almost in tears due to the sheer frustration of howbadly she wants him and the lack of attention he’s paying to her desire. Butshe also loves this game, revelling in the way his power grows.

“Answer me,” he says it sweetly, muffled in the junctionwhere her shoulder and neck meet, but she knows it’s a demand not a plea andthat knowledge has her back arching to get closer.

“I want you insideof me. Please,” he growls at her words, and she gasps as his kisses become moredeliberate against her neck, his teeth pulling at her delicate skin of herpulse before soothing it with his tongue. He pulls her hips down roughlyagainst his, and she’s grinding against him furiously seeking friction like herlungs seek oxygen. He groans again as his eyes flutter shut for a moment whileher hands drag across his abs and then over the muscles in his back, loving theway they contract under her touch.

His lips find hers, as a hand finds her breast again thistime kneading the flesh with purpose, flicking over the rosy peak to invitemewls to spill from her lips, into his mouth where he swallows them. His tongueseeks hers out and caresses it with such finesse she forgets her name for asecond. When her sense returns she repays the favour, drawing his bottom lipbetween her teeth and biting down in the way she knows makes him lose his mind.

Suddenly she’s on her back and he’s hovering above her witha predatory gaze. It makes her feel sexy and beautiful- it’s a feeling that shecherishes and never wants to let go of. His hands run up her inner thighs, ashis eyes stay locked on her own green orbs. Her legs part like they always dobeneath his beckoning touch and her chest rises with anticipation as his fingerscreep higher. His body creeps lower and her hips are thrusting up toward him ina frantic attempt to speed him up because godshe’s so turned on.

A single finger runs through her arousal, and she shudders.

“God you’re so wet,” he groans against her inner thigh, hismouth sucking on the skin there to leave another purple bruise. She throws herhead back with a low whine, almost coming undone from his filthy words andmerciless teasing alone.

He gives into her then, the picture of her in such a stateof arousal hard to deny. His lips wrap around her clit and her back archesviolently, her hips jutting off the bed. His hands move to hold them down as hecontinues to move his tongue sinfully inside her, before replacing it with hisfingers and moving his mouth back to her sensitive bundle of nerves. Betty’seyes are shut tight as her mouth hangs open in a silent scream the occasionalwhimper and light moan passing through. Her thighs begin to quake and he knowsshe’s close so he doubles his efforts to get her right to the peak. She’swhimpering his name like a prayer and her hands are gripping his hair tightly.And then he’s gone.

Her eyes snap open and she’s not sure if she wants to cry orscream. His face is above hers smirking cockily. She’s in shock and soimpossibly wound up and aroused. She lets out a frustrated huff and bucks herhips toward his, searching for any kind of relief for the ache between herlegs. When he pulls back slightly again she pouts at him.

“What the hell,” she breathes in exasperation although inher state of arousal it’s not threatening like she wants. Jughead chuckleslowly and pushes her hair away from her face.

“What?” he asks feigning innocence and Betty gapes at him.

“Did you want to come?” he asks eyes losing all traces of playfulnessand retuning to the dangerous dark blue she’s grown to crave. His fingers runleisurely through her folds, making her whole body go rigid and all she can dois nod vigorously.

“Ask nicely,” he breathes sinfully on her lips as he moveshis fingers out the way and pulls her legs over his hips. His erection brushesagainst her clit and she moans almost much too loudly for someone trying not toget caught with a boy in their room at 3am. He’s dripping with sexualconfidence and it makes Betty so excitable. She complies to his demands.

“Juggie please fuck me until I come,” she whispers directlyin his ear and he lets out a primal growl before entering her hard.  His pace is ferocious but she doesn’tcomplain. It’s hot and wanting and desperate and filled with so much passionshe can’t take it. Her hips rock back against his with no restraint and she’scoming within seconds. Her head tilts back and her jaw goes slack as her bodyquivers with the shocks of her release, his name on her lips. He keeps goingthough. His hips snap into hers over and over and his fingers tease hersensitive bundle of nerves. He reaches that spot inside her that makes herwalls clench and she’s right on that edge again. Her moans are making hiscontrol slip and he’s almost there. He groans in her ear as she clamps aroundhim again and she whimpers in response.

“Don’t come yet,” he breathes against her lips . His handwraps around her thigh lifting her leg over his shoulder. Betty’s mouth partsin a high pitched moan at his words, her walls fluttering as he fills herdeeper.

“I can’t-“ she starts, the syllables broken by her pants ofpleasure.

“You can,” he asserts back and she knows it’s not an option.

He thrusts into her hard and fast his breathing laboured,her keening. But he’s hitting that place inside her and pressing hard on herclit and it’s so hard to hold on to her control.

Her eyes clamp shut, fighting the impending release andgetting lost in how good it feels to have him.

“Let go,” he moans in her ear and she loses it, clampingdown on him like a vice as his own release hits him.

“Fuck Betty,” he groans in her ear and she doesn’t think she’llever get enough of her name on his lips.

Moments later when their spent and sated he wraps his armsaround her waist and pulls her snuggly against his body. She’s curledcomfortably against his chest and her lips drop to press a delicate kiss overhis heart.

“I love you,” Betty states comfortably and with a convictionhe could never question.

“I love you,” he affirms, pressing his own lips to hertemple and stroking her hair until she lulls against him, sleep captivatingthem both.

[mbti-analysis]

Is it true that INTP's have little to no experience with intimate relationships? I'm an INTP, and have never had a boyfriend or done anything intimate. But I do wonder what's different about me, compared to others who have had gotten the chance at romantic relationships?

I get questions like this from INTPs a lot, so I’m giving you guys one long answer on this, okay?

I won’t say that the two are directly connected, but they might be indirectly. I would never pinpoint anything as “the reason” that you haven’t been intimate with anyone because it’s not about intimacy, per se. It’s about the overall relationships you have with other people. If those are healthy and positive, and you’re putting in an effort to meet new people and broaden your horizons, intimacy will come. If one of those factors is missing, that’s thr problem.

Now I’m gonna go super technical on you for a second; bear with me.

Technical theory

See, INTPs are usually pretty introverted people, given their Ti-Ne-Si combination, and Fe is their inferior function, ie the last in their order stack.

Now the way the system generally works is: 

Your first or primary/dominant function is the one you use predominantly, largely subconsciously. It’s your go-to instinct. 

Your second or auxiliary function is the one that sort of balances out your dominant function. It gives your dominant function a second dimension, a counterpart. If your dominant function is introverted, your second will be extraverted.

Your third or tertiary function is the direct counterpart of your secondary function. Together your 2nd and 3rd functions are the part of your personality that are balanced and have very close coordination. Someone with Ti-Fe as their middle two functions will be able to think things through and express their thoughts effectively, more so than someone with Ti-Fe as their first and last functions.

Your fourth or inferior function is the one that’s the weakest, or comes least naturally to you. More often than not, you have to consciously use it; make an effort, you know? That’s why it’s usually very underdeveloped. 

Let’s look at that last function a little more. Many people say that during times of panic or stress, people are likely to use their inferior function. That may not always be true, but it is true that your inferior function, if underdeveloped, will function in bursts or impulses, and won’t be under your control. It also means that your dominant function won’t be under your control either because it will be without its natural counterpart. If developed, however, you still have to consciously use it properly, but it does start to balance your dominant function, so you don’t always act on your primary impulses which is what happens with an underdeveloped inferior function.

Now the problem you’re describing is this exactly. As an INTP, Fe is your inferior function, so let’s talk about Fe.

A little bit about Fe:

Fe is a judging function - centered around feelings or subjectivity.

Judging functions can be classified as introverted and extraverted. Introverted judging function tell you how you reflect. Extraverted judging functions tell you how you interact with the world. Now, Fe is thus a mode of interaction with the world. So Fe is interaction through feelings.

Judging functions are also decision-making functions, so people with a strong Fe tend to make decisions using their feelings.

People with a strong Fe make decisions based on how everyone feels, and how that makes them feel. They actively engage in other people’s feelings and are always in tune with the mood or atmosphere in a room. They like to keep that atmosphere up, and are often the types to radiate energy to do that. Fe, like I said before, is the type that would dance at a party because of the exhilarating atmosphere. They’ll also get everyone a round of drinks because that has the same effect. They like being polite and will always be respectful towards what’s appropriate. In conversations, they’ll always be actively engaged. They’ll laugh at your jokes because that’s a nice thing to do.

They’re more likely to take the middle ground when it comes to discussions, and well always gravitate towards a compromise rather than continued conflict. They’re very passionate people, but more often than not, strong Fe means control over feelings and passion, especially if the Fe is accompanied with a developed Ti. Control meaning... they know what they want, but they won’t get too carried away or impatient.

People with a strong Fe are often activists. They won’t hesitate to retaliate against offense towards other people and will defend those people. Fi is loyal to the people so close to them that are a part of their lives. Fe is loyal to everyone. This paves the path toward activism; they’ll preach on what’s right with a passion because everything they do is with a strong passion.

People with a strong Fe can also be big on scenery. When travelling, they’ll stop to take a few pictures, and they could stare at sunsets forever. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t get old even though it happens everyday. They like being in a comfortable environment. Fe people are also very likely to have their rooms decorated with memories displayed on their walls because living in the constant reminder of their good memories makes them feel more content. Their room is in that sense their safe haven because it reflects who they are. Fe is often also big on health and fitness, and they can go pretty hardcore into running and exercise because they do feel happier when they feel healthier and look fitter.

Fe chases the feeling of harmony in every aspect of their life -- their relationships with others, theirs environment, their daily activities. Everything.

All of this is in core Fe. 

What to do

Now I’m willing to bet that a lot of things that I’ve said are things you’ve thought of, but they’re not things that come easy to you. They’re things you want to be able to achieve. You want to make people happy, but sometimes you’re not quite sure how. You want to be able to comfort and console your friends, but you don’t always say the right thing because you’re not quite sure what they need to hear. You have a lot of thoughts that you’re not able to effectively put into words. You know how you should act, but you’re not always able to. You like the idea of debates, but you’re not that good at them because you don’t know how to passionately make your argument on the spot without time for forethought. Sometimes you think you’re boring to be around or that you don’t know how to have fun because you don’t see yourself as energizing although you want to be and admire people who are. When you’re angry, you probably lash out because you don’t have control over your emotions. You like to think you have control probably because a strong Ti makes you think that you’re not that feelsy and you keep emotions at bay, but the thing is you not being to express emotions isn’t the same thing as you being able to control your emotions. And sometimes you keep it all in for so long until it gets to the point of a breakdown because you just don’t know how to deal with it. When you have fights with friends, you back off and logically convince yourself that it’s not your fault, so they should be the ones to apologize, right? But you need to know when that type of thinking just isn’t appropriate. You need to develop a sort of radar for other people’s feelings, and you need to figure out when you should compromise your own feelings for someone else and when you shouldn’t.

These are all things that an underdeveloped Fe could make you struggle with. You might struggle with some and not the others, but the root is the same. 

There’s no easy step-by-step on how to develop your inferior function, but basically what you need to do is actively incorporate it into your way of thinking and dealing with things. Put yourself out of your comfort zone, but consciously think of what you’re doing and the effect it’s having on others. If you’re not sure, ask them. Talk to your friends. Don’t overthink things in your mind; ask them directly. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” “Was that rude?” etc. If you can’t figure out how to console a friend, ask them “What can I do to help?” “What do you need?” You’re not on your own here. If you like the idea of going to parties but hate the idea of being alone, find someone that you’re kinda in the same boat with and go with them and try to meet new people together. And do try to meet new people. That’s how you develop your social skills, and you have so much to learn from other people.

Most importantly, whenever you’re using your Ti, consciously consider your Fe. Don’t make excuses just because it might not come naturally to you. Force it into your functioning, especially when using Ti. Instead of putting intimacy as a goal, develop your Fe, and everything else will fall into place.