#okay but the one that really hurt re forgetting to do a long exposure was that fucking bioluminescence at palm beach

[andthebubbles]

whyyy have i lately been forgetting to do looooong exposures when i go do some night photography... i mean i love the stars but last time i forgot because i got kinda obsessed with doing a long exposure of the highway to get a river of light, and the moon was out and really high in the (clear) sky and i could hardly see any stars even though i was waaay out of the sydney basin so i thought, nahhh maybe next time...

grrrr next time is hargraves lookout perhapssssss

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[qwertyfingers]

Hi, I'm curious, could you elaborate on what things people in SPN fandom produce that you wouldn't have been able to filter out as a teen? I'm not really sure what you're referring to. Problematic porn? Bad takes? Wanky fan activity?

okay uh CSA, incest, and suicide trigger warnings for my answer here lol

first off i dont. really think you actually need me to explain this to you and the way this is worded really feels like either an attempt to minimise some truly atrocious shit or like, imply that i think highly of myself which is not true? i'm full of bad takes bro. i don’t care what people are posting as long as it’s not harmful. but there’s a few layers to the issues i was referring to yesterday

1) while it’s gotten a LOT better over the years, the defense of john’s parenting still happens fairly frequently, and as a kid who related extremely deeply to dean’s specific brand of Menhol Eelness that kind of defense of abuse would have really messed with my headspace! it’s messed up in and off itself to defend people who harm their kids - even unintentionally! - but the way that it specifically affects children who are still being abused is the worst of it. every kid with CPTSD who’s ever had to see someone defend behaviours they recognise from their own abusive family as done out of or as excusable because they had a good reason remembers that shit for the rest of their LIFE

there are echoes of what happened to me in dean, both in the abuse and trauma itself and the way it affects him in the aftermath. to see those things minimised by fans can be really re-traumatising for people. i’m very glad that my exposure to it comes at the end of several long stints in hospital and several years of intensive therapy. i don’t know that 18yo me who attempted suicide on a near weekly basis and hallucinated my abusive step father in my house all the time could have coped with takes like ‘its okay because john was drunk and alcoholism isn’t his fault’ or ‘john wasn’t abusiv he was just grieiving’ or ‘john didn’t abuse dean, everything he did was reasonable for their lifestyle’ without becoming deeply unwell. 

2) we also all already know how much deeply fucked up incest content gets made and shared in spn circles. like, okay,  have made peace with the existence of incest shipping. i blacklist that shit and i move on. most of it is avoidable and i can kind of forget about it if i’m being careful. but some of spn fandom is on another level. people write and draw some shit that is like, actively triggering on the ‘call my therapist and beg to be sectioned’ level. i had to renew my lorazepam prescription for the first time since lockdown started lmao.  one of the fandom darling artists literally posted graphic dean/jack porn on their blog next to their really popular castiel art like. i’m not kidding when i say that would have made me hurt myself when i was younger

3) there are a LOT of really weird interactions btwn minors and adults in this fandom and while thats noit something that the corner of tumblr/discord i move through has any real problems with, i still see shit go down in other circles / servers, and the things i saw on the  periphery when i was younger tell me it used to be wayyyyyyyyyyyy worse. adults actively encouraging like 13yos to read/write porn, children being pressured into incest content, 30yo+ people having intensely sexual interactions with minors like. 

as someone who is generally of the belief that ‘minors n adults shouldnt interact online’ is the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, supernatural fandom does sometimes make me think im wrong and wish i could set everyone under the age of 18 in a safe enclosure away from some of the insane people that go here like. 

in general i think that teens having adult friends in fandom is good becuase it allows an avenue for discussing legitimate issues you have and they can be really helpful to help rpotect young people! I literally owe my adult fandom friends from my own childhood for giving me the lagnuage to talk about the abuse i faced and they were the first people who ever made me feel like i had a way out of my situation. without older online friends i might never have found out that the reason i had no interest in sex was because of trauma, or figured out that the reason reading fic about women or trans men upset me so much was because i was projecting my trauma onto them, and with cis mens bodies i didnt have that issue. i owe all of those things to adults who in the modern day might be chastised for being friends with me because i was young, but i needed them! 

all this is to say that i think the breadth of inappropriate adult/minor interactions over the years have led to an environment where a generation of 20-somethings are now terrified of interacting with teenagers (for fear of becoming the adults who traumatised them), and a generation of teenagers who are largely terrified of talking to adults (for fear of being traumatised) and miss out on guiding hands that some of them really need. if the adults in your physical life harm you, and you cannot turn  to adults on the internet, what do you do? 

4) i’m so tired of people writing underage porn, bro. there are enough adults in this show, grow the fuck up

[probably-writing-x]

Unwelcome home.

Guzmán x Reader

Request by @elitesonly : hii! may you write a guzman x reader , where the reader goes away for a trip with her parents and comes back and guzman (her ex bf) starts dating a new girl that just transferred (cayetana) and forgets about the reader until they come back . (and the rest is to you) . love your writing💯✨

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

Stepping foot back onto the ground of the school felt like you’d stepped back to six months. Everything felt exactly the same, everything in its normal place, a sea of unchanged uniform and carbon copies of the same people.

“(Y/n)!” Carla calls when she sees you, hurrying over, “What are you doing home?”

“We’re back!” You reveal, wrapping her in a big hug, “Dads set up his business and its running smoothly so we’ve moved back and he’ll be between here and England to keep checks on everything. But I’m home!”

“Oh, girl, it hasn’t been the same without you!” She sighs, “You have so much to catch up on.”

“Please tell me you’ll tell me everything, I feel so out of place,” You joke, “What do I need to know?”

“Well, there’s a lot so we’ll definitely have to find time for the details. But after you left, we had some new kids join - Rebe, Valerio and Cayetana...”

She continues to explain the stories of the other two new people until she gets to Cayetana.

“And so she invited Lu round and Valerio and Guzmán came. And then it kind of became this big thing because her and Guzmán kissed and they’ve been together ever since. I mean Lu was pretty pissed because she thought she’d be next in line after you left,” Carla scoffs, “But Guzman’s with Cayetana now.”

You swallow the lump in the throat and she must notice your change in expression.

“Shit sorry, I didn’t really think of how things ended between you two. I didn’t expect it from him either,” She sighs, her brows furrowing.

You shake your head, tucking some hair behind your ear and trying to re-compose yourself, “Whats she like?”

Carla lets out a little laugh, “Nothing compared to you darling.”

She wraps an arm around you and it gives you a little bit of reassurance. You and Guzmán had split up when you moved to London as you’d both realised how hard you’d find it to manage your separate lives whilst also trying to keep up with a long distance relationship. Part of you had always expected him to be waiting. Just as you had done. You’d been on a few dates with one guy but it never went any further than that, and that had been your final straw to decide that it wasn’t worth it. You weren’t over Guzmán. Clearly he didn’t have the same mindset.

“Girl, who needs Guzmán anyway? Haven’t you found a fancy British boy?” Carla laughs, always managing to make you stop worrying so much.

“Not even close,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t really interested in anything like that.”

“Are you in class with us?” She asks as you approach the class where all of the typical group sat.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

Inside, your eyes only focus on one boy in particular. Guzmán is sat in the centre of the class with one arm around the back of the chair beside him - the chair occupied by the girl you assumed was Cayetana.

“(Y/n)!” Ander exclaims when he sees you, “How have you been?”

You smile and give him a warm hug, “I’m good, I’m good. How are you?”

“Glad you’re back,” He grins, “We’ll need to catch up, okay?”

You give a hug to Nadia as she greets you, and you introduce yourself to Valerio and Rebeca until you turn around to see Cayetana now stood in front of you.

“I’m Cayetana!” She smiles and you already sense a falseness about her. No, you couldn’t be rude - it was her boyfriend you had the problem with.

“(Y/n),” You nod to introduce yourself.

You see her smile falter and her eyes flit to Guzmán for just a second, “You’re (Y/n)?”

From behind you, you hear Lu let out a scoff but try not to respond in any way yourself.

“Yeah, thats me.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears and takes her seat beside Guzman once again, her hand settling on his thigh, “Well it’s nice to meet you.”

You force a smile too, “You too. And it’s good to see you Guzmán.”

He wishes he could say more. He wishes he could get up and wrap his arms around you and kiss the lips that he’d been missing for so long. But Cayetanas hand hadn’t moved from his leg and you’d already taken your seat with Carla.

- - - - - -

It’s a whirlwind to try and fall back into the patterns of Las Encinas - especially when Cayetanas lies had been exposed only a week after you’d first got back. Yep, you were definitely back home.

Your heart had practically dropped as Lu spoke the words, Cayetana being exposed completely for being a fraud and lying to the entire year. Though, all you could think of was how Guzmán would react. He’d believed her. So much so that he’d dated her. And she’d just been using him as a way of further shielding herself from being found out - date the most popular boy in school.

“Guzmán,” She hurries over to him instantly, “Guzmán, baby, I can explain.”

She lifts up her hand and cups his cheek, to which he completely ignores the gesture.

“I was going to tell you, I promise...”

Guzmán scoffs and pushes her hand away from him, setting his glass down on the side before he goes to walk off. She goes to follow but you’re moving quicker than you can think too much about. You step in front of her and stop her with a hand on her chest.

“Don’t follow him. The last thing he needs now are your excuses,” You state coldly, “Don’t hurt him any more than you already have.”

“Like you haven’t hurt him?” She seethes, evidently finding no defence for herself and instead focusing on belittling you.

“I’m not saying I’m innocent,” You look her up and down, “But I think there are a lot of other people here that you need to explain your lies to before you try to fix your lie of a relationship. Understood?”

With that, you hurry down the stairs on the rooftop and push through the crowd until you can find Guzmán amongst the heads.

“Guzmán!” You call, slowing down when there is no longer any people between you two.

He turns around at the sound of your voice, evidently not expecting you to be the one who’d end up following behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” You sigh, furrowing your brows like it would give any more sympathy to this situation.

He scoffs, “They set up this entire event to give her money to try and live a life like everyone else - can you believe that?”

“It’s ridiculous, but she was desperate enough to do whatever she could. She didn’t care who she hurt, it could’ve been anyone in the explosion and she’d have still set the plan in motion.”

“I just happened to be in the middle,” He scoffs, “All to try and forget you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh, “Was that all she was to you, Guzmán?”

“She didn’t leave like you did,” He snaps, “She made me feel like I could actually be her priority.”

“So she really was my replacement?” You step down a little closer to him, “I thought I was irreplaceable.”

You’d quoted something he’d told you when you left.

“You are,” He smirks, “That was the trouble.”

A silence drops between the two of you. You had nothing to say to him, despite having six months of things to express to the boy you’d told everything to him. But now, as Cayetana’s debris was falling and crashing around you, all you could think of was what had happened when you’d gone. How long did it take him to try to move on? Had he told her he loved her? Was that all she was - a replacement? Or maybe that was just because she’d gone now, and he couldn’t bare the thought of being alone. Too many questions.

“You left (Y/n), and you gave up on us,” He points out, “Cayetana was here, and she was nice, and she wasn’t planning on leaving me.”

“I had reason to go, Guzmán. My family had commitments and I made that clear to you,” You defend, “I thought it best for both of us to not try to make this work. I didn’t want to force myself into hating you because we were trying our best to make something work when it was impossible.”

“So instead you dropped it all and abandoned me for an entire six months. Did you expect things to be the same when you got home?” He shrugs his shoulders, “Did you think I’d be sat on those stairs at school waiting for you?”

You smirk and step forward to face him properly, “I came here to make sure you were okay, and you seem fine - clearly.”

He looks away from you but you turn his chin to focus on you again.

“I did wait for you Guzmán,” You say directly into those eyes, “I promised myself I’d come back for you and not feel guilty for anything I’d done in London. I thought both of us would’ve at least kept that in common. I knew you couldn’t be replaced either, but the difference is that I didn’t try to replace you.”

With that, you drop your soft hold on his face and walk yourself away from that party. He might have lost Cayetana. But that didn’t mean he’d got you back. It wasn’t a bargaining value, one for the other. He’d replaced you, in only a matter of months he’d tried to find someone to replace you and he’d committed himself to someone else. He knew you’d be coming home eventually. Why couldn’t he just wait for eventually?

- - - - - -

When school starts on the following Monday, you and Carla are walking down the corridor chatting about everything that unfolded over the weekend - making sure she updated you on all of the gossip she’d collected on what had happened in the aftermath of Cayetana’s exposure. You’re about to turn to follow Carla into the class when you see someone sat on the stairs and you can’t help but stop at the sight.

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” You assure her, turning instead to the boy taking up an annoying space amongst the flooding crowds.

Carla follows your eyes to see what had caught your attention and she lets out a laugh, “You two are impossible.”

You walk yourself toward him until you’re close enough to catch his attention. He looks up at you with a classic smile lighting up his face.

“Seriously?” You cock a brow.

His face drops instantly and he looks down at his feet, clearly losing the hope that he’d built from seeing you approach.

“You thought this would work?” You fight back a smile.

“I just thought it would give me chance to explain myself,” He sighs, pausing the music playing through his headphones.

“What are you listening to?” You ask him, taking the space beside him on the stairs as a seat.

He looks at you with a little bit of surprise before he fumbles and slips the headphones over your ears, hands slowing as he brushes your hair out of the way.

“I’ve been kind of out of the loop with Spanish music,” You comment, “Although I have a lot of English songs to play you now, grime is really big in London and I think you might like it.”

He smiles as you listen to the song before you pull the headphones back off from your head.

“I don’t think you did the right thing by getting with Cayetana - I mean, out of everyone!” You joke a little to at least lighten the mood slightly, “But I do agree that I shouldn’t have ended things. I knew I’d spend that entire time in London waiting to come back here, to you - if that had been six months or six years. You’d left too much of a mark for that to be erased so quickly. I made a quick decision and it was the wrong one, just because I didn’t want us to become one of those couples that just distance and argue all the time and lose trust for each other.”

“I don’t think we’d have ever done that, you’re terrible in confrontation,” He jokes, “I heard what you said to Cayetana at the party, I was impressed you had it in you.”

You laugh a little, “So you waited to hear that but still made me run after you?”

He looks down at his feet again with a smirk, “I should’ve never tried things with Cayetana, or anyone for that matter - even if Lu would’ve been the better choice. I felt lost (Y/n). And I saw this photo of you at an event with your parents and you looked so happy, I thought you’d just moved on and I’d have to do too. She was there and I took the opportunity before I had the chance to think of whether it was a good idea or not. I shouldn’t have, I know.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“It wouldn’t have ever lasted with her, you know, even if she hadn’t turned out to be a fraud,” He chuckles, “All I could think of was how different she was to you and how much I hated that. And I’m sorry for hurting you by being with her in the first place.”

You nudge his shoulder, “I think we both did things we shouldn’t have done.”

“So, where does this leave us?” He raises his brows, gulping and bobbing his Adam’s apple as a result.

“Oh, I hate your guts,” You joke, “But I don’t see why we can’t give ourselves a second chance, for ourselves and each other. And see where that takes us.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” He smiles and looks back down to his feet now with his cheeks tainted by a blush, “I can go with a second chance.”

[kintsugi-sheep]

2021.01.10: Redcaps and Manga Reviewing, Vigor and Nostalgia

Alright, so what happened this week?

Well, I don’t think I’ll ever forget what happened this week. I was six when September 11th occurred, so I wasn’t really cognizant of what had happened. But I am cognizant now. And I won’t forget what happened on January 6th for a very long time. I don’t consider myself especially patriotic or loyal to the democratic system of government as it operates in this country, but I do acknowledge when something so sacrosanct is violated.

I don’t want to spend time getting into this. If you’re old enough to find this blog post you’re old enough to know what happen. I hadn’t intended for that to be what I wanted to talk about anyway.

Where I left off last week, I wanted to announce my intention of making a video on Shaman King.

There are a number of hurdles—some might even dare to call them issues—with this idea. I’m not a reviewer. I don’t have any video editing experience. I don’t have a platform of great enough scale to protect my work. And, for the nature of what I intend to write, I may not even have enough time to get it out before the series drops in April.

So why bother?

Because I love the series. For years, it almost never came up in conversation, but when it did, I was pumped up with the nostalgia I had while reading it. I didn’t know where this excitement came from for years.

It’s a good manga. Not the best that there ever was, but yet I inexplicably loved it. And I didn’t really know why. But when I was asked what my favorite manga of all time was my answer would be Shaman King.

When I heard the anime was getting a re-release and when I heard they were going to re-publish the manga in full this time, I was ecstatic. I told my friend about it and, being the type of person who’s typically late regarding news related to anime releases, they already knew.

Then, I saw the articles. And my heart ached.

Read my article about how Shaman King is pulling a Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.

Read my article about ten characters that will be in this anime that weren’t in the original.

Read about whether or not this character is okay for woke 2021.

And I my stomach sinks when I think about what will be coming next.

Theories made by people who read the series and are reciting spoilers for clicks.

Essays on why Hao is the greatest anime villain of all time for clicks.

Speculation on whether or not Yoh can beat Goku in a fight.

I don’t have a very high opinion of journalism. And knowing that the series I love will be used and disposed of for quick clicks is upsetting to me.

In deciding to do this project, I put it all together. I realized why I loved this series.

When I drew as a youngster, Shaman King’s stab-your-eye-out-on-my-protagonist’s-edges art was my early influence for character design.

Every story I’ve come up with—whether or not it’s been continued, recycled into another idea, or wholly abandoned—has had themes of spirituality that I’d only seen present in Shaman King as a child watching it on the FoxBox.

It was my exposure to the reality that manga and anime don’t always coincide; I hadn’t watched FMA or FMAB yet.

I used to record the Saturday morning cartoons and watch them with my grandmother, and while for years I’d hop between Fox, the WB, and ABC recording cartoons so that we’d watch things like Lilo and Stitch, Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, the Proud Family, Xiaolin Showdown, Coconut Fred, Ultimate Muscle, Johnny Test, Mucha Lucha, Jackie Chan Adventures, even One Piece—to name what I could from the top of my head, these shows didn’t all run on these channels in the same breadth of time—I’d skip over Shaman King, keeping it selfishly to myself like a child would.

This week, it hurt watching a bunch of redneck monsters trample over the Capitol. As someone cynical of the government, it hurt to know something so sacrosanct could be treated so shamefully. But it hurts so much worse to imagine that I wasted all these years, like a boy concealing his affection for a girl until she falls into the arms of someone else, to actually take the time and express the love I have for this series.

The image of this post is an issue of Jump a buddy of mine bought at a thrift store or yard sale and gave me almost three years ago. I posted the picture with a long blurb about how my week feeling on Facebook. A lot of it is auxiliary, but I’d like to recount what I wrote here.

Spoiler alert, I was feeling a little pretentious that day:

 “Vigor. Even writing this feels more cumbersome than it actually is.

How do I say what I mean? I hate nostalgia. It’s true, if hyperbolic. I see it cut down so many peers, creatives, and critics like a guillotine; a sloppy, artificially guided, swift force that lops their heads into a collective basket of thought.

Still, this past week I’ve felt my own dismissive chest opened with a more surgical precision that permissed” [NOT A WORD] “nostalgia to play with my heart strings. I reflected on Avatar, a show from a time when animated shows didn’t have their runtimes bisected for the simpler consumption of children that would choke on anything longer, that powered itself on the labor and inspired vision of its creators and crew as opposed to memes for the children and references for the adults, and had the temerity to demand that an audience be comfortable going thirty minutes at a time without a joke to amuse them.

My friend went to Pennsylvania and got me an issue of the now defunct Shonen Jump magazine from 2004. It had series of comics I’d forgotten about and an ad for Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2, but those were inconsequential. I find Shaman King to be the greatest comic I’ve ever read and in August, the month of the issue I’d received, the protagonist was featured prominently on the cover. I remembered how engrossing it was to read something with that level of complexity; taking into account my age. And never since have I seen a series with such a great balance of brutality and humor and never since have I seen any form of media where” [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] “led to a happy ending.

To round it off, within the hours before writing this I’d watched Feel Good Inc. I couldn’t help but feel my eyes begin to water at the genius of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. An unforgettable song latticed with moments of haunting beauty and brilliance.

As a child I would sit down for hours to draw terribly. And I loved every warped, misshapen, humanoid, tailed thing I drew. I’d scan my grandmother’s cookbooks and write recipes by mending foods I liked together in a manner similar to Frankenstein assembling his monster. I wrote chapter after chapter of a terrible story because I wanted to prove to my first girlfriend that I could write something better than twilight. I had a sense of self-motivation. I hadn’t struggled through college for a year to graduate without confidence in my own abilities. Or lost friends to unfair circumstances beyond my control or the ignorance of how much control I had. Or been stressed to the point of genuine fear from some of my earlier work. In many ways I still feel like the child I was when I lived at my grandmother’s house. Except now as a child too anxious to do anything besides what he knows will keep him alive.

How do I say what I mean? Not well. That, too, may have been a bit too hyperbolic. It’s not that I hate nostalgia, but that I fear being stagnated in memories of better days. Still, like a failing vegetarian having a hamburger the time I’ve taken to indulge myself has let me realize something I’ve been missing from my diet.

Vigor.”

[sarah--goff]

T.D.M: Chapter 15: Absolution

You wake unexpectedly in the height of the afternoon.

When you slit an eye open, you let your surroundings sink in, your whole body felt like it was lined with lead, you couldn’t so much as shift your arms. It takes a lot of strength to turn to lay on your side with your legs tucked underneath you. When you manage the fetal position, you’re dripping with sweat and panting slightly.

You feel as though all you really want to do is sleep, you could sleep forever and ever right now you need rest.

You close your eyes again grimacing at the pain of doing so as well as the stabbing pain above your eyebrow. You briefly wondered what the hell had happened to you to cause it when everything hit you like a bolt of lightning.

You can’t move. You can’t breathe. Your chest feels tight. You don’t know what to do.

The whole world comes crashing down.  The 13 hours were long since up. You’d lost.

You’d lost.

“I’ll give you a challenge: a chance to win back your freedom-if you wish. If you complete my task, you’re free to go. But if you lose, you stay with me- in my castle. Forever” .

You start to cry, softly at first and then loudly sobbing and hate yourself for it. Don’t give him the satisfaction you pleaded but the tears wouldn’t stop.

You could never go back to home, never see your friends, never walk home after a long day at school in the summer evenings, never slope off to the empty park grounds to sit by the green ponds whenever you felt like it, never see your only remaining family, never sit in your tiny freezing bedroom , drawing idly with the blankets huddled around you, cursing Kari for making you do the dishes, cursing your life, wishing to leave…

You’d sold yourself out. How stupid could you have been to think you could have won the Labyrinth?

You had no-one to blame but yourself for this mess, you should have known better, right from the start that the Labyrinth would be rigged against you. He’d done everything in his power to slow you down from the start; the overturned stone, the changing Labyrinth walls, the Riddler Guards, his little distractions, the disguise, the Goblin King was so desperate to stop you from winning. Well now he had, he’d won.

And Hoggle! You felt deeply cut by his betrayal, above all else, the Goblin King was the villain you could excuse his deceit, but Hoggle?  How could he have been so cruel to lead you astray twice?

You lie there alone in the bedroom, weeping helplessly on your back, tears rolling down your cheeks, unable to wipe them away or hide the pathetic sob noises you were making. You cried harder, shoulders juddering at every sob.

“I was going to win” you cry hoarsely aloud to make up for the frustrating paralysis “I was going to win ”

The blue coat swings on the peg of the door as it creaks open, with a gloved hand appearing around the frame of it.

“You’re awake I see” Jareth’s voice slices through your buzzing thoughts like a hot knife in butter.

He closes the door behind him, mumbling something in another language at it with a raise hand before turning to you. The sun’s rays burst through the window dancing on the flagstone floor.

You suck your breath in sharply. The game was over. What was he going to do now? Torture you, humiliate you, make you his little jester-play thing when he got bored? It didn’t matter, you were here now. ‘Forever’.

The Goblin King shrugged off his own leather, pegging it over the blue cloak then pulled out a stool you hadn’t noticed by your bed, sitting at it, so he was level with you.

He noticed your silence, resting his forearms on his knees as he leaned in “Oh come, come, come now, Sloane, why so much haughtiness and dread? Where is that adventurous little thing who braved every crevice of my labyrinth? I thought you’d be more than glad to be away from it”

Was he really that oblivious? Or psychotic? Or maybe he just assumed you’d forgotten all about the Oubliette episode, haughtiness and dread didn’t even sum up what you were feeling now he had you right where he wanted you. You can feel your thudding pulse in your eye sockets and in your legs.

You said nothing, not even meeting his eyes. You chose to stare straight ahead instead, at the tapestry on the wall, willing yourself not to cry again.

He raised his hand holding a crystal, purple and glowing and you flinch at the sudden movement.

“You stay away from me” you yelp finally finding your voice, edging away from the hand paused over you. “You and your fucking magic”.

He closed the hand with an exhale, evading the light from his palm “you need your healing today, you’ll grow weak without it” he said matter-of-factly.

“Bullshit” you breathe through the rising lump in your throat, you ball the rich quilt you’re lying under in your hands, “you just want keep me this-s way, weak and help-helpless”.

“I would never hurt you” he put his hand over your balled fist and you manage to jerk it away though it feels so weighted down. “My rose-“

“Don’t fucking touch me” you hiss out.

The whole room was spinning, you have to close your eyes, you feel like you’re drunk.  “Why do I feel… so heavy?” you turn your head to face him, with narrowed eyes “you’ve done something to me. Druh-drugged me or something”.

Jareth puts the damp cloth in the wash bowl with some leaves floating in it, then extracted it, squeezing the water from it carefully. You watch it run, the trickling noises against the stillness giving you goose-bumps.

“It’s your mortal body reacting to the magic exposure,” he said flatly “it can’t possibly handle it all at once, so it must be fed more in small doses to balance it out” he pushes the little hairs falling in front of your face out of the way to put the clothe to your forehead, holding your arm down at your twisting protests. “It’ll adapt in time”.

In time.

A surging heat passes through your stomach. You squeeze your eyes shut at the pain “oww ughhh ” you curl up clutching yourself “you’ve done this to me” you say, sliding your accusing eyes to him, “you ”

He pauses the dabbing on your forehead to meet your eyes.

“I did not plan for things to go this way. Believe me”.

That meaningful look, so cruel and so kind. You flicker to the ballroom where you had been under the same look.

You turn away to cross your arms over your aching stomach.

“Oh no?” you gasp through clenched teeth “but you’re happy now aren’t you? Satisfied with yourself, you got your own way event- eventually” you cursed yourself at the rising lump in your throat “but me? What did I get? A one -way ticket to servitude. Slap on the shackles now”.

“I don't care for your tone,” Jareth's demeanour becomes more callous, throwing down the clothe in the bowl and putting a hand on his hip “everything I’ve done, ever since we met, I’ve done for you.”

The sky had become overcast and you shivered in the chill of the absent sun.

You scoffed looking at him over your shoulder “keep telling yourself that, it doesn’t change the facts” .

Jareth stood sharply so the stool screeched backwards against the floor. “The ‘facts’?” He spat standing at the foot of the bed for you to look at him properly.

“You want to know the facts? My ‘gift’ to you Sloane, was exactly that. A gift, to repay you. A way out, a way to make sure you could live happily ever after by binding you to fae rules, which I bent for you” he hissed “the facts are, that I gave you thrilling adventure away from your tedious life, gave you gorgeous dreams, made you smile, made you laugh, even given you a place in my kingdom. You chose to ignore what you dislike, what doesn’t fit into this villainous character you’ve warped me into. I have been generous- but I can be cruel”.

“Generous!” you sat up straight, refusing to wince at the pain of the fluid movement “You arrogant prick! What have you done that’s generous?”

“Everything!” he snapped throwing his arms up. “Everything you wanted I have done! You wanted someone to listen? I did. You wished to be “taken away”? I took you. I have re-ordered time-”

Jareth gestured to the grand clock on the wall - like the one you’d seen in the outskirts when you first started the Labyrinth- spinning its thin black hands backwards and then forwards wildly around the face.

“-to ease your hardships in my Labyrinth, a challenge you wanted to enter -and I let you- I have turned the world upside down and I have done it all for you. I’m exhausted from living up to your expectations” he frowned with a defeated sigh “Isn’t that generous?”

You pressed your mouth in a straight line for a while but then a tear brimmed daringly in your eye.

“You tricked me into trusting you, you threatened my freewill -giving me no choice but to run in the Labyrinth then you brought me here, to this bloody place, and I didn’t ask, then you try to scare me into submission when things weren’t going your sodding way” you tick off with as much venom as you can put in a hushed whisper “and it’s not okay. It just isn’t”

He stares you out for a time and you glare back at him. He opened his mouth to say something when you bent double, thudding back against the pillows, writhing in pain “aughhhh”.

The wind outside rose, you could hear the tree by the window drop all its leaves in the abrupt uproar.

He’s by you side in a flash.

“Here, let me” Jareth opened his palm, purple light flooding from it. You nodded frantically, squeezing your eyes shut, forgetting your pride in the burning of your ribs.

He knelt before you, gesturing to you to move your shirt up so he could lay his hand on your skin.

You shivered at the contact but then hissed as it seeped through.

“Gahh !” you clutched his forearm, fingers digging into his clothing and clenching your teeth together. You bit back the tears, writhing in pain. “It’ll be over in a moment” Jareth said gently to soothe you in the pain, you grasped the material harder.

You don’t want to look at the light flooding into your skin and stare down at him instead while he works. From up close you notice only now that he’s wearing more make-up than usual, it’s sharper, darker, his hair looked fluffier, little silver bits among the blonde shining in the purple glow. He’s even dressed up a little. Your heart skips a beat. For me?

“All done” Jareth finishes up, catching you staring at him. You forget that your hand is now relaxed on his forearm and his palm on your rib-cage. The Goblin King’s eyes flicker down to where you’re absentmindedly rubbing the pad of your thumb across his shoulder.

You remove your clutch on him immediately, heat radiating from your face. “It…feels better. The pain’s gone completely” you cough.

The burning sensation disappears from your sides like a weight lifting from your shoulders. You can push back the quilts and sit up properly against the pillows without wincing and then swing your legs over the bed.

You stare at the flagstone floor.

For a moment, nobody says anything. What else is there to be said?

“Your run in my Labyrinth might be over,” Jareth broke the silence, in a tone bordering on grave.

He slipped both of his hands over your own “however, you and I, Sloane Hazel, we're far from finished,”

You blankly stare down at the large hands cupping your own, but you don’t yank them away.

It’s wrong, it’s very wrong to feel wanting. No, you hadn’t forgotten the chemistry in the ballroom, dream or no dream, you'd been so comfortable and you both knew it. Your tell-tale spiked pulse said everything.

Your mouth parts and closes as if to say something but you remain silent. The memories of your first introduction creep into mind.

“Do you want it?” he held it out for you to take. “You’re unhappy here. But I could make you happy” he said it almost in a whisper.

He held out his hand earnestly for you to take “come, leave your little cell of room behind, leave your dreadful family and just run away from it all”.

Why did a traitorous tiny part of you get a dark thrill over the fact that he might have genuinely wanted to steal you away to keep you right from the start? Your stomach flutter at the possibility that his offer might have been selfless, no underlying cruelty? That he wanted you for you, not just something to control?

You glance at Jareth’s face, clearly reading your own. You wait for him to irritably sigh or retreat like he had done before but instead he watched the cogs in your mind turn patiently. All traces of his earlier smug taunting had completely dried-up.

“I know” you said eventually “…I know I lost the challenge . And… I suppose you only did the right thing, bringing me here…” you gestured flatly to the room, and your healed side. “A deal is a deal” you admit as much as it pains your heart, accepting the gravity of the situation that you were stuck in.

Jareth gave away nothing in his expression “go on” he said curiously.

“If I’m bound to stay here I…I think we should set a few things straight” yes. okay. good. Ground rules.

“You mean you have requests?” Jareth stated rather than questioned in a monotonous voice, he folded his arms, awaiting you to continue.

“Well, yes…Maybe given the circumstances…” you said sternly

“I believe I’ve been more than fair to you” he said coldly and for a minute you think he’ll straight-up rebuke you, but instead his expression changes suddenly. He held his chin with his propped hand, mulling something over and continued.

“but, never let it be said I ever refused Ms Sloane Hazel” Jareth exhaled. “I’ll humour you, if you humour me”.

Fuck.

Ah, see what you’ve done? Now doesn’t this scene sound all too familiar?

The voice in your head derided you,

and what did Hoggle warn you about? Shady deals?

You tried not to swallow and give away your doubts, you toy with the red quilt between your fingers when an idea comes to you.

“How about…quid pro quo?”

He smiled wide so you could see those feline teeth “now there’s the Sloane Hazel I was waiting for. My dear, I believe I’m beginning to rub off on you”.

You shrugged like it was no big deal “then we both get what we want” please say yes, please say yes.

“Quid pro quo it is” there was a daring twinkle in his eye. “Go on, go on, I’m all ears”

Stay humble you warned yourself. Tit-for-tat goes both ways.

“First off, no more tricks to get me onside like you did in the Labyrinth, no playing glamour dress up to fuck with me”

“But of course, I need not to now”

You glared at him pointedly.

“It was brilliant though wasn’t it? My performance sterling” Jareth jovially tossed a crystal in the air and when he caught it, you found yourself staring back at Sage, the mysterious, kind, peasant woman who fed you.

“a rose, for a rose?” Jareth croaked in her voice.

He fluttered the crystal in his hands until his withered finger-tips held a yellow rose out to you, but you flicked it away.

“cut it out Jareth,” you said meeting his gaze under the green shawl, the warmth in her smile had vanished and instead sliced through you “it’s creepy”.

Sage- Jareth- gave a withered smile before transforming back in front of your very eyes.

“I thought that was you, you know” you frown, not the least bit surprised that the only person kind enough to you for more than five minutes in that Labyrinth was a rotten glamour trick. “And no more magic drugging. No magic against me in any way, shape, or form, I’m serious” you sniffed. "The soup wasn’t great either by the way- I was just hungry”.

Jareth laughed at that returning to his own rich regal voice.

“Very well, you have my word, no ‘magic drugging’ as you put it. Which brings me onto my request; you will accompany me for meals, morning, noon and night, regardless”.

You raised an eyebrow a strange request “done” but it was harmless you supposed.

“Now that I’m here, I want to see the Underground, properly” you gestured to the small turret room, already the walls were beginning to cave in “I won’t be held in here, it’ll drive me nuts”.

“that can be arranged” he nodded “you’re not my prisoner, Sloane, I fully intend for you to see my land for all it is” he said proudly “you may go wherever your curious heart desires in my kingdom, but the outskirts and the labyrinth itself are strictly out of bounds. That’s part of the deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up to silence you.

“My kingdom, my rules” Jareth sang.  “I know the Labyrinth better than anyone, it submits to me only, it’s not somewhere for strolling. No contentions”

“Whatever, I’m not in a hurry to go back any time soon” you nodded with a shiver, it would take something extreme to get you back in there.

You cross your legs underneath you on the bed putting your hands in your lap.  “I wish for at least some privacy, to write and draw, like I used to in my… old room,” you explained looking down at your hands “it would be nice to still do normal things”

Jareth folded his arms across his chest, sticking his hands under his armpits, “of course” he scoffed “you really think I would restrain my favourite artist?” you smiled back at him at that, shaking your head with a blush.

“Furthermore, on the subject of kingdoms, I am your king now and you will treat and respect me as such, like every other citizen, regardless of our association,” he smiled shrewdly.

Oh, he was beginning to enjoy this, you could tell.  

“you live in my kingdom now, in my castle, under me, your sovereign. The ways of the Above do not concern me”

You frown “under you?”  

He waved dismissively, “I only require what every other monarch would require of their citizens. Please continue, my rose,” The Goblin King inclined his head in a slight, inviting bow.

You licked your dry top lip quickly “I get to see my family”

“No dice I’m afraid”

“What? Why!”

“As I explained to you, you belong to the Underground now, the Above does not concern me, besides, the deal was that you lose and you stay forever, if you remember correctly”

“I …” you let that sink in you should have been paying attention to his wording before you agreed to that stupid challenge. You would never see your aunt and uncle again. Ever.

“My friends?” you suddenly remembered you looked to him hopefully.

He shook his head “Same rules apply. The Above is forbidden”

You held back the strangled gasp. Kari and Brian were family, your mother’s blood, no less, but your life- long friends, Jan, the people you’d practically grown up with. Poof. What would they think happened to you? That you ran away? That you were kidnapped? They would never know.  

“You can’t just expect me to leave everything behind!” you stutter. The reality was very much settling within you. “Like I didn’t have a whole life there!”

You felt like you were going to throw up suddenly. Your stomach heaved dangerously.

Jareth only tilted his head in reply. An act that said “you should have thought about that before you were willing to put that on the table”.

“There will be far too many questions. Believe me it’s for the best.”

“I don’t understand! What do you mean!”

“Your time in the Underground is turning you , I already explained that your mortality was being balanced out with magic” Jareth picked his words carefully

“the exposure, will slowly begin to change your mortal being,” his tone became serious “ you’re part magic now at least, like me, you’ll remain very much the same as you are now, it would be difficult to hide it from your acquaintances as time goes, even with glamour magic” .

“I don’t believe you” you reply tartly. “That’s impossible” but your mind was racing already.

“Nothing’s impossible. You’d think you’d come to realise that by now” he gave that Cheshire cat’s grin.

He was right. Any manner of questioning possibility was ruled out the second you stepped foot in the Underground. Another thought crossed your mind

“wait, how old are you ?” you’d completely forgotten that he wasn’t human, another worldly being…That you would come to be too?

The Goblin King grinned cupping his chin “how old do you think?”

“I don’t know…around... forty”  you offered generously with a vague wave of your hand.

He threw back his head and laughed and you glare at him. “Well that’s how old you look!” you protested “well go on then, tell me”.

“Why? Afraid I might be too refined for your taste?” he winked suggestively

You shoved his shoulder “I was thinking more ‘cradle snatcher’ ”

The Goblin King’s eyes danced in amusement “more than you know”

“and yet you’re still the biggest child I’ve ever met”

“Ah, the biggest child you’ve met so far”

“You’re a smart-arse, bleach blonde, prick, you know that?” you found yourself smiling.

“You wound, sweet” he said in mock-annoyance, he pretended to ruffle his hair airily “this is all natural Ms Hazel”.  Of course that’s what he’d pick up on.

“If you say so. Okay, so we have a deal then?”

“You have my word on all counts,” Jareth gave a short nod

“Me too” you stuck out you hand to shake on it but pushed it away with shaking his head amusedly.

“Don’t you know every deal must be sealed properly?”

“How?”

Jareth whisked his hand and a feathered quill and sheet of paper popped onto the writing table at the far end of the room. “The good old-fashioned way of course, a contract”

You pushed yourself off the bed to spot the long white scroll on the table, the calligraphy golden. You could see the small print at the bottom besides where each of you would sign.

“Well of course I knew that” you said huffily “Can I have a –“

“Here” he pushed the magnifying glass into your open hand before you had even asked for it.

“How did you know I was going to say that?”

“You’re a sharp girl, you’d want to read the small print. Of course, there’s really no need since I would never try and pull the wool over your eyes, my sweet” he blinked feigning innocence but oh boy, did you know better.

“Hmmm” you said plucking up the paper anyway to read it. You read it all thoroughly, as well as the actual details itself, everything you had both agreed on was there.

“Yep it’s all there” you held out your hand for the quill and scratched a messy “Sloane L. Hazel” across the black line, hoping to god this wouldn’t come back to bite you. The quill’s black ink bled into the paper drying out and turning gold. Inerasable.

“Hey!” you snapped when you’d finished, realising he’d been standing behind you staring at your arse while you had slightly bent over the desk. “Merely admiring the view” he chuckled at your sour expression, throwing the quill at him.

Jareth slowly and meanderingly leaned over the table, free palm resting on the wood flatly. You notice a marking on his hand beginning from his index finger and disappearing under his cuff's sleeve.

He'd signed it “The Goblin King of the Underground” alongside yours in large swirling loops which you rolled your eyes at but couldn’t help admiring the hair falling over his face before he stood tall again.

“Sloane L. Hazel” Jareth bobbed an eyebrow, reading your signature aloud “how very professional, what’s the L for I wonder?”

“L is for Lux- like a short way of saying ‘Lucky’ ” you shrug at his puzzled face.

“Lux” he repeated sardonically. “How tasteful”.

“My parents lapped up unusual names” you explain “before they knew they were having a girl, they agreed that my mum would pick the name if I was a girl, my dad a boy, so when they had me, my mum said she chose the name from one of her favourite books and my dad got to pick my middle name since the one he was going to pick was unisex.”

You smiled fondly remembering your dad telling you the story behind your strange name when you were younger. You had been in the kitchen making some god-awful muffins together for a change and set the smoke alarm off, Jeremy couldn’t cook for toffee.

“My dad told me it’s because they were very “lucky” to have me in their life, like ‘thanking their lucky stars’ or something but then my mum told me it was after the name of this bar they met in and he threw some flour at her”.

You laughed, remembering clearly the look of horror on your mother’s face as her entire outfit was splattered with the white powder and for a second your father had looked genuinely terrified of his wife until she had thrown some back at him, right in his face, and then he at you for laughing at the pair of them in the ridiculous scene, within minutes the kitchen was a winter wonderland. All three of you had rolled on the kitchen floor in the snow of the flour, coughing and spluttering- your parents tickling you until you thought you were going to burst. It was one of your happiest memories of them.

You were grinning brightly from ear to ear and staring off into the distance. You blinked rapidly coming back. You noticed Jareth had been listening intently and gave an embarrassed shrug.

It was strange telling the Goblin King about your parents when you rarely spoke about them to anyone. He already knew so much about you when you knew very little of him.

“They sounded wonderful” Jareth said softly with a small smile and you nodded in agreement

“They were. I was lucky to have them ” you swiftly changed the subject, “is this it then?” you nodded at the signatures.

“One more thing, now we each must knock on the wood”

“What?” you tilt your head “you’re having me on”

“Nonsense, you Abovelers say it all the time,” he tilted his head “don’t you know the meaning behind it?”  Jareth rapped on the table to emphasise “It’s the only way to properly seal the deal”.

You hum, also knocking on the dark wood feeling silly. Your hand burnt like a flame had been held to it “ow!” you snatched it back, holding your burning wrist “what was that !”

He took your wrist, inspecting it curiously. “It’s the contract, as a reminder, look” twisting it over to show you the marking that had been etched on your skin.

“its sealed on your wrist to provide proof of the oath you knocked on- binding you to the contract” the strange marking was like a white tattoo, in the shape of a circular Labyrinth and an owl taking flight .

“The royal seal no less” he noted, inspecting his own wrist where the same seal was placed.

You took it back, rubbing the soreness. “Will it be there forever?”

“Most likely” he nodded. It was only tiny anyway.

You rolled your sleeve back down. “You mean you’ve never done this before?”

“Not personally no,”

“Then…What happens if either of us …break it?” your heart dropped at the thought. This was magic. There would be consequences surely.

Jareth gave a hapless shrug.

“You don’t know” you said drily in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say beforehand! What am I suppose to do now?”

“I suggest you be a good girl then” he grinned.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you- you’re bound to break it” you put your hands behind your head and exhaled to let off steam idiot!

“Ye have little faith, Ms L. Hazel, I may surprise you yet” he scoffed

“Wait, there’s something else” you say, rubbing your temple one thing at a time, the thought bubbling in you before you forgot about it again.

“What? Don’t tell me you forgot to add something after that entire bloody ritual”

“No no, not about the contract- I mean, I want an explanation”

Jareth cocks his head quizzingly

“About all this, about you. I think I deserve an explanation. More than that actually” you stifled an abrupt yawn.

He smiled, “Very well, I’ll tell all tomorrow, deal?”

“Why not now” you pushed, eager for answers while he was still in the talking mood.

Another yawn hit you like a wave, you found yourself forcing your eyes open. How can you be tired already you’ve only just woken up. Bloody magic. “I’m all ears”.

He smiled ruefully, “You’re much too tired, besides I’ll want your full attention, you have a big day ahead you, so I suggest you get a good night’s rest” you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.

“tomorrow, I promise ” he rose and moved to the door,

“Jareth?” you called before he disappeared .

“Yes?” he lingered by the door looking at you expectantly.

“Maybe you’re not a bleach blond”

He smiled and nodded, wishing you a goodnight before disappearing, you heard the sound of a crystal ball rolling across the floor on the other side of the door.

Good night?  Yeah fat chance of that. How were you supposed to sleep now?

Nevertheless, you climb into bed, the first day of the rest of your life was over. It can only get better from here, you assured yourself. Not like you just signed away your life for real or that you were half magic or something or another. It was also so confusing. Sleep was probably the best solution.

You inspect your wrist and then drop it to stare up at the four poster’s ceiling. What have I done?  You'd never imagine you go in this deep.

_*_

In his hands, Jareth clutched the silly beggar disguise he used to hamper your progress, one final disguise. He exhaled air from his nose, amused over it, “hmmf” . It seemed so silly now.

He tucked it away in a trunk at the foot of the bed, it would be a while before he would use it again unless another one of those brat runners called upon him, wasting more of his time, still though it could be fun sometimes to watch their confusion.

He climbed into bed but found himself unable to sleep instantly, instead tracing the seal mark absent-mindedly on his wrist.

[psychotic-spectrum]

I think i might be schizophrenic or maybe psychotic but I can’t see a therapist. I experience closed eyed hallucinations, hallucinations in the dark, delusions, and physical hallucinations. Do you have any resources about symptoms or how to handle these things?

Hi anon.

I’m sorry to hear that you’re struggling with symptoms and that you can’t see a therapist. I found a wiki page with a lot of useful information on how to handel hallucinations.

1

Remember that hallucinations can never hurt you.

Your brain is playing tricks on you, but you are safe. No matter how disturbing the hallucination might be, it isn't going to harm you.

Hearing voices can be a sign of stress, so do activities that relax you.[2] Sleep deprivation, isolation, dehydration or starvation, strong emotions, fever/illness, and drug use can also cause hallucinations.[3]

Tell yourself "it's just a symptom" or "just because it sounds/looks/feels real doesn't mean it is."

Check if the thing is real.

Sometimes, the hallucinations might obviously be fake (like a cat with glowing eyes and wings), but other times, they may be more subtle. Here are some ways to test whether something is a hallucination:

Sight: Try taking a photo of what you see. If it doesn't show up in the photo, it's not real.

If you wear glasses, try taking them off and see if the hallucination looks "clear," like when you're wearing your glasses.

Hearing: Try taking a recording of what you hear on your phone. If the voices are too loud, ask someone else to listen to the recording. Or play music: if the voices are still clear despite there being loud music, they're a hallucination.

Smell: Ask another person, "Do you smell that?" If they don't, it's probably a hallucination.

Taste: Ask someone to try a bit of what you're eating. If they don't taste what you're tasting, it's likely a hallucination, and your food is fine.

You can also notice if other people and animals are reacting to whatever you're noticing. If nobody seems to notice it, it may not be real.

Engage with something that you know is real.

This can help you focus on something better, and distract you from the hallucination.

Try doing something that you enjoy, like working on a hobby, playing with a pet, watching a show, or playing a favorite game.

Try using a different sense than the one the hallucination is engaging. For example, if you're having visual hallucinations, then you could sing along to music.[6]

Sometimes, blocking out the hallucination using the same sense might work. For example, if you're having tactile hallucinations, a warm shower or cold compress might drown out those feelings.

Try a grounding exercise.

Grounding exercises can help you stay connected to reality.

Focus on the senses that are best connected to reality right now.

Try treating visual hallucinations as friends or companions.

Give them a name. Tell them about your day, if you're alone. This can make them seem less scary.

Which is more scary: an eldritch four-tailed abomination in your corner, or the four-tailed creature named Fluffy who listens to you talk about your troubles at work?

Dismiss any mean voices inside your head.

Sometimes, you may hear voices saying awful things to you, or telling you to do bad things. Pretend they're coming from edgy, pathetic teens who are trying to upset you by being as rude as possible.

If you're in private, you might want to talk back to them. Insult the voices right back, be sarcastic, and mock them. It won't make them stop, but it may help you cope.

If you're in public, you can talk into a phone while talking to the mean voices, so that people don't get confused.

Do what helps you feel safe.

It's okay to be upset by hallucinations, even if you know they aren't real. They can be scary or disturbing sometimes. Any calming rituals, even if they might seem "silly" to other people, are worth doing if they help you.

Go to a place that makes you feel safe.

Use any comfort objects, like a favorite blanket or a book that you like to re-read.

Turn on the lights.

Play your favorite, most relaxing music.

Spend time with people who help you feel safe.

Using Long-Term Strategies

If you've been diagnosed with a mental or physical illness that causes hallucinations, work on self care.

Take your medication, as directed, every day.

Set an alarm on your phone, or write a reminder.

Talk to your doctor about what to do if you realize that you missed a dose.

If you have a pet, give your pet a treat every time you take your meds. You may forget when it's time to take your meds, but your pet won't.

Know your early signs.

This will help you recognize an oncoming episode, so you can prepare and perhaps adjust your medication or talk to a doctor.

Potential early signs include:

Sleep changes

Isolation

Feeling annoyed more easily

Wondering if it's time to stop taking your meds

Keep a diary of your hallucinations. This can help you notice patterns, such as situations when they're more likely to show up.[14] If you want, the diary could also be helpful to show to anyone who you want to explain your situation to, like a doctor.

Find ways to reduce stress in your daily life.

A lower-stress lifestyle can help reduce hallucinations. Try to do something relaxing or enjoyable each day, and limit your exposure to things that cause you stress.

Spend time with loved ones.

Try to exercise, even in small ways.

Enjoy your hobbies.

Try spending time with animals.

Get advice on how to tackle the most stressful areas of your life.

Spend less time on stressful news or social media sites.

Cut out (or at least reduce exposure to) toxic people, places and habits.

Try mindfulness and meditation. Some people find these helpful for managing hallucinations. Try focusing on your breathing, or being aware of what you're going through.

Talk to your loved ones about how they can help you when you're hallucinating. People without hallucinations may feel worried, confused, or powerless to help. You can tell them what would help you most, so they know what to do when you're hallucinating. Here are some examples of things you can say:

"Sometimes I forget what to do when I hallucinate, because I'm so scared that I forget how to help myself. It would be helpful for you to gently remind me of the strategies I can use."

"There's not much you can do when I hallucinate. But if you stay with me, and listen and validate my feelings, it really helps me feel better."

"Please don't argue with my hallucinations. It doesn't help me. What I really need is someone to listen to me and acknowledge my feelings, even if the hallucinations aren't real."

Avoid self isolation. Being alone with your delusions or hallucinations can make them worse.[16] Try to spend time seeing friends or family.

Stick with your self-care habits as much as you can.

Sleep well, get outdoors to exercise, and eat healthy food. This can help you feel healthier and stronger, so you're better able to cope with difficult situations.

Don't punish yourself if you have a bad day and aren't able to take good care of yourself. Tomorrow is a new day. Just keep doing your best.

Avoid drugs and alcohol.

These may worsen your hallucinations, or impair your ability to deal with them.

Marijuana might calm you down in the moment, but it makes symptoms worse and increases the risk of a relapse.

The next pieces of advice are about getting professional help, if you can’t get read them anyway because they can be useful for the future

See a doctor if you don't know why you're hallucinating.

It's important to know what's going on with you, and to get an accurate diagnosis. Make a doctor appointment to talk about what's going on with you. Sometimes hallucinations are brought on by severe stress or lack of sleep,

while other times they are a sign of a mental or physical illness.

If you've been keeping a journal of symptoms, bring it along.

If talking about your symptoms is hard, try writing down a list.

If you're nervous, try bringing along a support person to help you through it.

Try anti psychotic medication.

Anti psychotic meds may reduce your hallucinations, or even stop them.

Try talking to a doctor about whether they're right for you.

Take your meds according to the directions. Don't take more than the prescribed dosage.

Some medications have side effects. Talk to a doctor about any side effects you're experiencing, and whether a different medication might be better.

If you feel like you're "cured," it means the pills are doing their job. Don't stop taking them without talking to a doctor.

Look into therapy. Therapy may help you deal with stress and handle your hallucinations. Ask about what type of therapy might be right for you.

Try talking to other people with psychotic disorders online. There are online communities, like forums and hashtags such as #PseriouslyPsychotic, where people with psychotic disorders can talk and connect. People there may be able to give you advice and support.

Consider joining a support group. There may be support groups in your area for people with psychotic disorders, or mental illnesses in general.

Do your best to be patient with your recovery. Effects may not be instantaneous, and it's possible to have relapses and bad days. That doesn't mean that you're "broken" or that you'll never get better. Keep doing the best you can with the resources you have.

You can find the full page here:

https://www.wikihow.com/Handle-Hallucinations

[smilingformoney]

It Lives Beneath Diamond Scene: Sneak Away with Danni

You catch Danni’s eye across the picnic and shoot her a wink. You: Well, I think I’m gonna head home for the night. Danni: Yeah, I’m gonna do the same. Imogen: Good night! Tom: Catch you guys later. Parker: Take care and get home safe, you two! You and Danni wave goodbye as you exit the gathering, heading for the woods.

As the two of you make your way through the quiet forest, Danni swings her camera bag over one shoulder, and slides her arm through yours. Danni: Pretty perfect day, isn’t it? You: Yeah. It is. After a few steps, she pulls you to a stop. Danni: Ooh, you know what we should do?

You: Hmmm… -Take a selfie together?

Danni: Just what I was thinking. She frees her camera from its bag and holds it bag and holds it at arm’s length. Danni: So what do you want to do? Obnoxious hiking selfie? Obnoxious duck-face selfie? You: How about an obnoxious couple selfie? Danni: Ooh. So we’re those people now, huh? You: You better believe it. Danni: Alright. C’mere. Danni leans her head against your shoulder, and holds out a cupped hand. You meet her hand with your own and together you make a heart. Danni: Three… two… one… You’re blinded by a brief flash, and Danni turns the camera around to see the results. Danni: Aww, look at that. We’re the worst. You: That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘amazing.’

-Make out?

Danni breaks out in a sly grin as she steps closer. Danni: Well I was gonna suggest a picture... but that's good too. Danni's hands snake around your waist, pulling you close as her lips meet yours in a passioante kiss. Your tongue pushes past her lips to explore the heat of her mouth, relishing the way her stifled moan vibrates through you. When you finally pull apart, you're both breathless and flushed, trembling with desire.

Danni: So. What next? You: I was thinking we could head back to my place? You: Elliot’s gonna be at Robbie’s tonight, and Grandpa’s got a card game or something, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. Danni: Hmmm… Alone together all night. I don’t know. What could we possibly do? You: I’m sure we’ll think of something.

The house is quiet when the two of you finally arrive back, and you flop down together on the couch. Danni: Uuuughhh. That hike was way more rugged than I thought it’d be. Danni: Phew. Is it hot in here, or is it just me? Danni: Why don’t we head upstairs? You: Aren’t second floors usually hotter? You know, because of hot air rising? Danni: Psh. Details. Besides, it’s the perfect place for me to try out a new kind of photography I’ve been branching into. You: Oh yeah? What kind of photography is that? Danni leans over the side of the couch, pulling her camera from its bag and giving it a suggestive jiggle. Danni: The sexy kind.

You: I would love to… -Expand my artistic horizons.

Danni: I had a feeling you were gonna say that. You: Did I give it away with my smoldering gaze? Danni: Only a little. Danni bounds up from the sofa with feline grace and begins making her way up the stairs. She shoots a coquettish glance over her shoulder. Danni: You coming? You: Right behind you.

Perching on the foot of the bed, Danni begins fiddling with the buttons of her camera. Danni: Okay… We don’t have great lighting in here, so I think I’m gonna crank up the exposure and do a retro soft-focus thing. Very ‘80s. You: Very artsy. I like it. So, where do you want me? Danni: That’s a loaded question. You: I mean where do you want me to pose? Danni: On the bed, cowgirl. You: Yes, ma’am! You lie down and prop yourself into your sexiest pose, giving the camera your best impression of bedroom eyes. Danni springs up, circling the bed with her camera, and you hear the hurried clicks of the shutter. Danni: Perfect. Gorgeous. But don’t you feel a little too… clothed? You: Now that you mention it, I could do without a couple of layers. You cast off your clothes until you’re left in just your undergarments, and stretch out across the bed. You: You’re right. This is better. Danni: Now show me what you got, hot stuff.

You: (I’ll do something…) -Erotic.

You let your hands roam your exposed skin, caressing over your chest, down your belly, between your thighs. Danni: That-that’s perfect. Keep going. As the camera clicks away, you arch your back off the mattress as if in ecstasy. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue as you look back at Danni. You: Do you like that? Danni: Uh, yeah. You: Then why don’t you put that camera down and come join me?

-Silly.

Flipping onto your belly, you put a finger to your lips like you’re sharing a secret. Danni cackles as she continues to take pictures. Danni: Oooooo! Very hot. I feel like a Playboy photographer. You cycle through various goofy poses, spreading out your arms and legs like a starfish, making surprised faces at the camera. Laughing too hard to keep shooting, Danni puts the camera aside and plops down on the bed beside you. You: How did I do? Danni: You did… something, alright. You: Well, then maybe you should come here and show me how it’s done.

Danni: I thought you’d never ask. Slipping out of her clothes, Danni climbs on top of you and straddles your lap. She leans down and nips gently at your bottom lip with her teeth. You: Mmmm… Danni: You’re pretty sexy, you know that? I think you might have a future in modelling. You: Too bad the only person I want to pose for is you. Danni: Well, we can work with that too. Danni finally captures your mouth with her own in a deep, hungry kiss.

You: (We should…) -Just kiss.

You roll both of you over into a more comfortable kissing position and return Danni’s eager ministrations with soft, sweet motions. After several long moments, you separate at last for air, and Danni rests her head on the pillow beside you. Danni: Hey. You: Hey. Danni: I really like you, you know that? You: I think I had some idea, yes. Danni: Well I do. So don’t you forget it. You: Wouldn’t dream of it. Her lips find yours once more and you kiss as though your lives depend on it, as though you could pour every ounce of love into one, single moment…

-Go all in.

You roll the two of you over until you’re on top, nestled between Danni’s splayed legs. Danni: Well hello there. You: Hello yourself. You kiss along her jaw, her long, slender throat, down her chest and to the swell of her breasts. Danni: Ahhh… Her hands roam your back, nails scratching lightly along your skin. You slip a hand between the press of your bodies, seeking out the heat of her. She arches her back off the bed, crying out in pleasure, her hips meeting every rolling movement of your hand. Danni: Ahhh! God, [Name]… Your hips grind against her soft flesh, wringing moans of desire from you, as the two of you crest closer and closer to ecstasy…

Hours later, Danni holds you close, your back pressed to her chest, as she peppers kisses along your shoulder. You: Mmm. That’s nice. You sure know how to spoil a person. Danni: I learned from the best. You: There’s no denying that. After a while, Danni slows her kisses, and a deep silence settles over the two of you. You: Hey. Is, uh, is something wrong? Danni: Huh? Danni: Oh. No, I was just thinking. You: Wanna share with the class? Danni: It’s just… what are we doing, [Name]? Why’re we fooling around when you’re just gonna leave in a couple of weeks? You: Because we… like each other? Danni: Yeah, but wouldn’t it be easier if we called it quits now, before we get even more involved and it sucks all the more when we’ve gotta break up?

You: Danni… -Who says we’re going to break up?

Danni: Long distance relationships don’t usually work out for most people, you know? You: Yeah, but we’re not most people. We’re way more kickass than that. You: Besides, my little brother’s still here. I’m gonna be back here all the time.

-We don’t have to decide anything now.

You: I get what you’re saying. And I’m not going to pretend that long distance relationships aren’t hard. You: But we’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. If not before I leave, then one of the times I come to visit.

Danni: You’re right. It’s just I really like you, you know? The more time we’re together the more I’m gonna fall for you. Danni: And I don’t wanna get my heart broken again. You turn in Danni’s arms to look at her, holding her unflinchingly. You: I would never, ever hurt you, Danni. That’s a [Name] Vance guarantee. Danni’s mouth quirks into a small smile. Danni: Can I take your word to the bank? You: You can cash it in and buy a house with it. Danni: Big spender. She kisses you lovingly, every tender emotion poured into that one kiss, filling you with equal measures of excitement and apprehension for the future…

The next morning, you kiss Danni goodbye on the stoop of the cabin. Danni: Thanks for last night, Vance. It was really something. You: I’ll say. Danni: Text me later, okay? You: An attack of zombie bears couldn’t keep me from texting you. Danni laughs as she walks away down the drive. As you’re turning back inside, you spot your grandpa loading a boat on the dock.

-Chill down here, actually.

Danni: Hey, that’s fine. My legs are killing me anyway. I don’t think I was built for outdoor activities. She stretches languidly, laying her legs across your lap.

You: Why don’t… -I kiss and make it better?

Danni grins mischievously at you. Danni: Yes, please. You bow your head, lifting her stockinged leg to your lips. You: Tell me where it hurts. You kiss her ankle. You: Here? Danni: Mmm… Not quite… She slides her leg over your shoulder, and you rotate, lips moving up her calf. You: Here? Danni: A little higher… You bend forward, kissing the inside of her thigh. Danni squirms, laughing, and pulls your face up to hers. Danni: That tickles. You: That’s ‘cause your tights are in the way. You lips move to Danni’s neck. She moans softly as your knee presses between her legs… Danni: [Name]… You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at her. Her face is darkly flushed from arousal, her eyes glassy and half-lidded.

You: (I’ll…) -Go further.

Capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, you find the waistband of her shorts and tights and slide them down, freeing her long legs. You slide a hand between your bodies, seeking out the heat of her skin. Danni moans and arches her back off the couch. Danni: Ahhh… There… You: Too much? Danni: No! Perfect. You both struggle out of your clothes, eager to feel each other’s skin. Danni flips you onto your back, straddling your lap. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes. Her hands explore your chest and stomach. You: You’re so beautiful. Danni: Yes I am. She bends down to kiss you, her hips rolling against yours, eliciting sparks of pleasure within you. You: Ngh! Danni… Your fingers dig into her thighs as her body undulates on top of yours, her hands working your most sensitive places, bringing you closer and closer to ecstasy…

-Stay like this.

You kiss her gently before settling down beside her on the couch, pulling her body into yours. Danni: Mmm. You make a good blanket. You: I haven’t heard that before, but I will definitely accept the compliment. You: It is a compliment, right? Danni: Definitely. Not everybody makes a good blanket, you know. It takes just the right balance of softness and warmth. You’ve nailed it. You: Well, look at that. A talent I didn’t even know I had. Danni: Oh, you’re just full of talents. Danni rotates in your arms to face you, her arm wrapping about your waist and forehead resting against yours. Danni: Thanks for having me over. This is… this is just what I needed. You I’m glad. ‘Cause you’re just what I needed. Danni: Pfft. Corny. You: But you love it. Danni: Damn right I do. She kisses you chastely and sweetly before relaxing into the couch cushions and closing her eyes. You watch her as she drifts off into peaceful sleep, wondering at your luck…

Hours later, Danni holds you close, your back pressed to her chest, as she peppers kisses along your shoulder. You: Mmm. That’s nice. You sure know how to spoil a person. Danni: I learned from the best. You: There’s no denying that. After a while, Danni slows her kisses, and a deep silence settles over the two of you. You: Hey. Is, uh, is something wrong? Danni: Huh? Danni: Oh. No, I was just thinking. You: Wanna share with the class? Danni: It’s just… what are we doing, [Name]? Why’re we fooling around when you’re just gonna leave in a couple of weeks? You: Because we… like each other? Danni: Yeah, but wouldn’t it be easier if we called it quits now, before we get even more involved and it sucks all the more when we’ve gotta break up?

You: Danni… -Who says we’re going to break up?

Danni: Long distance relationships don’t usually work out for most people, you know? You: Yeah, but we’re not most people. We’re way more kickass than that. You: Besides, my little brother’s still here. I’m gonna be back here all the time.

-We don’t have to decide anything now.

You: I get what you’re saying. And I’m not going to pretend that long distance relationships aren’t hard. You: But we’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. If not before I leave, then one of the times I come to visit.

Danni: You’re right. It’s just I really like you, you know? The more time we’re together the more I’m gonna fall for you. Danni: And I don’t wanna get my heart broken again. You turn in Danni’s arms to look at her, holding her unflinchingly. You: I would never, ever hurt you, Danni. That’s a [Name] Vance guarantee. Danni’s mouth quirks into a small smile. Danni: Can I take your word to the bank? You: You can cash it in and buy a house with it. Danni: Big spender. She kisses you lovingly, every tender emotion poured into that one kiss, filling you with equal measures of excitement and apprehension for the future…

The next morning, you kiss Danni goodbye on the stoop of the cabin. Danni: Thanks for last night, Vance. It was really something. You: I’ll say. Danni: Text me later, okay? You: An attack of zombie bears couldn’t keep me from texting you. Danni laughs as she walks away down the drive. As you’re turning back inside, you spot your grandpa loading a boat on the dock.

-We talk about our relationship?

Danni: What’s there to talk about? You: Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and I’m gonna leave pretty soon… You: I guess I’m just wondering where we stand. So I can go away without any doubts. Danni: Look, [Name], there’s always gonna be doubts. With any relationship, but especially with long-distance relationships. Danni: There’re no guarantees. All we can do is believe in what we feel for each other. You: And what’s that? Danni: Are you asking me if I love you, Vance? You: Yes, ma’am. Danni sits up and cups your cheek in her warm hand, holding your gaze levelly. Danni: I love you, you big dummy. You: That’s all I wanted to hear. Danni leans her forehead against yours, and you both close your eyes, enjoying your closeness. Danni: So, what now? Braid each other’s hair? Slumber party? You: Please. What are we? Five? We’re gonna binge watch streaming movies until we pass out. Danni: Oh hell yeah. A new Markus von Groot movie just got added to Netflix. Queue that sucker up, my dude. You laugh and reach over her for the remote. You: So, what’s the name of this von Groot masterpiece? Danni: It’s called De Vuurtorenwachter. It’s about this guy who lives in a lighthouse trying to fix his father’s pocket-watch. You: How long is it? Danni: A hundred and sixty-eight minutes. You: It’s three hours of a guy fixing a watch? In German? Danni: Dutch, actually. And yeah, but trust me, the cinematography is amazing. You: Alright, I’ll give it a shot… But if I fall asleep, it’s your fault. As the hours tick by, you realise you’ve become invested in the movie, even coming close to tears. You’re grateful for the recommendation, and even more grateful for Danni’s company.

The following morning, with Elliot still at Robbie’s, you decide to lounge around and enjoy some time to yourself. Later, as you’re taking the trash out, you spot your grandpa loading a boat on the dock.

[wannawrite]

Don’t I Know You From Somewhere?

PD 101 / YH's Justin X Reader [ fem ] 

part two Fluff Word count: 2571 • you're an idol, Justin is your #1 fan • you meet him at a fansign and tbh he's adorbs so you're hella heart eyes for him ;) • soMehow you land the spot as a guest mentor for PD101 S2 even tho ur like young ( okay I'm sorry anon I had to, it isn't part of the original request but...a bit more of Justin fluff never hurts anyone....right? ) omfg, I love love love love love Justin ?? And my Yuehua boys ?? Yes ?? Bless them ?? Freaking adorable Euiwoong and Hyungseob and Jonghyun was a judge hoW CUTE gOD BLESS anyways, hope you like this anon, even if I modified it a little ok but am i the only one who goes soft for China line im so soft for Jung Jung. I love Jung Jung so much. might make a part two for this as well as • Crushing On You - Kang Daniel drop me feedback - admin L __________ Justin could barely contain his excitement as he clutched tightly onto his copy of your second mini album, shuffling in his spot in the queue. The entire venue was packed, fans buzzed with joy and the energy in the atmosphere was insane. Today was the day that Justin had waited for his entire life as a fan of yours. Today was the day of your fansign. When your fansign was announced, he screamed so loudly the whole Yuehua building trembled. Then, he proceeded to beg his manager to allow him to go. It was tough since he was set to participate in the survival show, Produce 101 a few weeks after but he sweet talked his way through. Once he got the 'okay' from his company, he managed to wrangle his best friend and fellow trainee, Zheng Ting to accompany him. Zheng Ting now stood behind Justin with pink cheeks, mildly embarrassed by his best friend's enthusiasm. I suppose it shows how dedicated of a fan he is.....He spent ages picking out his outfit today. I bet that's his $500 Star Wars shirt he was going to save for Produce 101. Justin even visited the salon to re-dye his hair for today. Oh my god. Zheng Ting was downplaying his own elation for his own sanity's benefit. Sure, he wanted to meet such a great inspiration to him but he wasn't a super die hard fan like Justin. Zheng Ting knew that Justin could practically chemically combust from all his zest, his grin was so wide it was sure to hurt. Oblivious to all the judgmental glares from Zheng Ting, Justin continued to keep his exhilaration levels high. His legs couldn't seem to stay still or root him to the floor properly. Even with his height, he still tip-toed to get a better look at you above the crowd. He sighed dreamily when he caught sight of your hair. Oh my god, Y/N looks so pretty today. She's the perfect idol. There's so much to learn from her. I wish she would look at me. Is this love? The expression on his face was so sheepish and dreamy, Zheng Ting nearly slapped him. "Yah, Justin! Wake up! The line is moving," he hissed. It was entertaining to see the maknae so incredibly spellbound by someone. 

The snaking queue moved listlessly and Justin's patience was running thin. To fuel his energy into something else so that he won't be all jittery, he combed through your photo cards that were included in your mini album, taking them out and reassembling them multiple times. People around him stared at him like he was a lunatic but really, he couldn't care less. Justin clamped a hand over his mouth to cover his yawn, he secretly regretted waking up at the crack of dawn, forcing Zheng Ting to drive them an hour out to the venue at five am and sitting in the queue since seven am. He was lucky he managed to sneak in breakfast and breath mints. Dedications of a fan. He huffed and shuffled along as the line gradually started to move. At least he was getting close to you. ... "Hello, Y/N. How was today's fansign? Everything okay?" Your manager asked, scribbling whatever feedback there was from other staff on her notepad. "Hmm, it went well. Thank you for arranging it. I was happy to be there. But right now, I want to sleep," you admitted with a small groan. Thankfully, your manager was an understanding and kind one, you two got along super well much to everyone's surprise. She laughed and nodded, telling the driver to speed up a little. "Go ahead and sleep. I'll wake you when we reach." Truthfully, you were exhausted but your mind was plagued with thoughts of that handsome blonde fanboy at the fansign. His happiness was infectious, it put a smile on your face when you admired how his curls bounced with that skip in his step. You managed to catch his name, Justin, and you remembered exactly what had happened. It was rare you remembered everything word for word but something compelled you to. He had politely waited until the previous fan had stepped off the stage then, practically dashed up the stairs two at a time. He had run a hand through his curls before blurting out an excited 'Hello!' and bowing, nearly bumping his head on the table. As if he was ashamed, he used his right hand to cover his mouth and the other to pass you his bag of gifts and album. You had asked for his name which he gladly revealed. "I'm Justin." He beamed, revealing perfect pearly whites. "Well, thank you for the letter and the gifts Justin," you had said, shooting him your best cover-worthy smile. Justin couldn't be that much older than you. "You're very handsome." His face had turned beet red and he managed to stammer out a reply before nearly tripping on his way down from the stage. He was the most put together mess of a boy you had ever seen and somehow, you were attracted. It was rare you had male fans your age, cute ones at that. But, he was just fan, a face in the crowd you would have to force yourself to forget. You let out an irritated sigh, wishing it didn't need to be limited by its circumstances. Oh why, why couldn't I have gotten Justin's number or something? All I have is a name and a face I would hate to let go. It was safe to say sleep didn't come easy that night despite how worn out you were by the day's activities. You tossed and turned in your blanket, unable to block that blonde boy from your mind. Maybe it did you a favour by lulling you into a deep sleep and as creepy as it sounds, a dream of him. ... Justin was partially gone from your mind a month later but this morning, you could barely keep your eyes open as stylists bustled about, brushing your hair and whatnot, so once again, you found yourself thinking about him. You wondered what he was up to. Perhaps he was leading a normal teenage life. Going to school. Hanging out at the mall with his friends. All the regular, domestic things. A part of you was envious if he indeed had that kind of lifestyle. Today is going to be sooooo tiring. I just hope nothing terrible happens. Today was the day you were guesting on the survival show, Produce 101 Season 2. A few of your friends had participated in season 1 but so far, you hadn't heard from anyone about the second season. It was only the first week anyway, only one episode had aired but you were too busy to even watch teasers of it. Your role was simple, throughout the next week, you were going to support and supposedly mentor a couple of lower ranked teams as they prepared for their stages. It was a good opportunity for exposure and to make new friends. From what you had seen - or lack of since your van had pulled up to the location at six in the morning - all the contestants seemed to be pleasant. The plan was that you were surprising them with a wakeup call and a special buffet breakfast. ( bc i must feed my boys that's why let me live ) You hoped the directors knew what they were doing. "Y/N? Y/N." Manager unnie's voice shook you from your nap, you blinked bleary-eyed at her. She patted your head and helped you to your feet. "Go wash your face or something. Filming will begin soon." You complied, glad that the long-lasting stage makeup was sealed with a waterproof spray. After refreshing, you swiftly changed into your shooting outfit and followed a bunch of crew members to the dining hall. There, another team was busily preparing the surprise breakfast, probably the most the boys were allowed to eat. ( let them eat properly pls ) You stifled laughs when your mini album blasted through the speakers as an alarm. It could become pretty hilarious to hear your own music in public. When the main director signalled your cue, you raised the microphone - which was connected to the speakers - to your lips and delivered the message in a sickeningly sugary voice. "Good morning to all the gorgeous Produce 101 Season 2 contestants. This is not a drill. Please assemble in the dining hall in half an hour. Failure to comply will result in elimination. I repeat this is not a drill. Please assemble in the dining hall in half an hour. Failure to comply will result in elimination." The last part was a lie. No one would be going home on your watch. ... Oh my god. Is that Y/N's voice? Is that her album? How sweet of her to appear in my dreams. "Justin! Justin! Wake up!" What? Why is she calling me? A pillow smacked his face. "Yah! Justin! Wake up!" Justin shot up, rubbing the sleepiness away from his eyes. He blinked at his roommates. "Why? What is it?" They didn't need to reply as the announcement sounded again. "Attention all Produce 101 Season 2 contestants, good morning! This is not a drill, please assemble in the dining hall in twenty minutes. Failure to comply will result in elimination." His jaw dropped, almost hitting the bottom bunk. "Is-is-is that Y-Y/N sunbaenim?" He stuttered out his question. "Yes! So that is why we need to hurry!" That was all it took. He washed up in a matter of twenty seconds and changed into his best outfit in five. Justin grabbed his training things out of his suitcase and bolted to the dining hall as fast as his legs would carry him, his roommates trailing behind. He needed to see with his own two eyes that it was really you. It was so crowded he was already pushed back to the end of the crowd. Somehow, Euiwoong and Seunghyuk found him, they called for Hyungseob and Zheng Ting to come over. "Is it her? Is it really Y/N?" He asked, lips trembling. Zheng Ting nodded, star-struck. Euiwoong had to hold Justin up to prevent his legs from giving way. He almost started sobbing. Does she remember me? I hope she does. He thought hopefully before sighing in realisation. No, there's no way she would have remembered someone as insignificant as me. Once everyone had arrived, you introduced yourself and explained your arrival. There were yells of jubilation and cheers. Some of the boy's jaws hung open and they had a hand over their mouths. It made you smile and amp up. Justin listened in awe to your motivational speech, he was in a daze the whole time as his friends led him to their usual table. Then, he noticed you were walking around and greeting some of the other boys. He scrambled to grab Euiwoong's arm across the table, almost making his hyung topple his tray of food. "Yah! Justin, are you okay?" Euiwoong was puzzled by his sudden behaviour. Justin frantically shot questions at him. "Is my hair okay?" "Do I smell good?" "How does my sweater look? Cute enough?" Euiwoong rolled his eyes and spooned some rice into Justin's mouth to make him shut up. "You look fine. I bet everyone else is worried about their appearance too. Full offence, these uniforms look awful," he said in a hushed tone. Justin fussed with his hair even more. Meanwhile, you too grabbed a tray and marched around the dining hall with your manager by your side, scanning for a place to sit. Suddenly, you spotted a familiar tuft of blonde hair. Justin? Oh my god, Y/N! Stop being delusional. Stop relating everything back to that......... fan. But your pace quickened as you approached his table, partially because he reminded you a lot of your long time crush who you would most likely never see again. As you neared, his face became more clear and you gasped. Even though the first and supposedly last time you saw him was a month ago, you still could recall what his face looked like. There was no mistaking that this trainee was Justin. Is the boy sitting next to him Zheng Ting? I met him too. It was cute to see Justin brushing his hair repeatedly with his hands. He whined when it still stuck out in different directions, the other participants sitting next to him only made fun of him. Should I address them formally? Are we friends? What if he is older than me? How do I call him? Oh my god, I don't want to be rude. These thoughts filled your head as you drew closer, palms growing all the more clammy. 'Oppa' isn't rude right? ( lmao guys this is such a koreaboo thing for me to add in my works but tbh i just didn't want to sound rude ??? and more realistic, not so Americanised but pls tell me what I should do. I don't want to offend anyone out here ) Should I call him that? I bet Zheng Ting is older though? What if I offend them? Do you want to sit with them or not? Another voice piped up. Yes, but- Just go! It gave you a push which pulled yourself together. Like the confident idol you are, you strutted up to the Yuehua boy's table, showing off your perfectly sculpted legs in the process, and tapped Justin on the shoulder. He spun round to face you and when he realised it was you, his jaw hung open and large eyes grew bigger. "Hi, Justin oppa, do you remember me?" You asked, beaming brightly. Justin was so shocked he couldn't form a coherent sentence. "The world would end if Justin forgot who Y/N is. He is your number one fan. Believe me, his wall in our dorm back at the company is filled with your posters. If-" Seunghyuk was abruptly cut off with a desperate yell from Justin. Zheng Ting shoved another spoonful of rice into his maknae's mouth. "You haven't eaten a thing on your tray." "Hello, Jung Jung oppa, I believe we met too." You bowed out of respect and Justin nearly fell on his knees. "Ahh, it's okay! Sunbaenim!" Gesturing to your tray, you asked if you could sit with them for breakfast. Seunghyuk moved over to sit next to Hyungseob which created a space next to Justin. The boy went red when you slid into the seat next to him, accidentally bumping his arm. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" You exclaimed but he assured you he was fine. Regardless, you grabbed his arm and ran your hand over it. "Are you sure? You can't get hurt!" He couldn't even utter words. Should I? Whatever, I should. You took his arm and slung it over your shoulders before turning back to him, a sultry ( keep it PG you're both kids ) smile on your lips. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Justin cleared his throat and suddenly adopted a blank expression. "My girlfriend is here today." No...... He held up his - well Euiwoong's pocket mirror - to your face. You burst into a fit of giggles. "Nice one, Justin. I knew I could recognise you." Sigh, let's see what happens during this short time of filming. ( this is so bittersweet i’m sorry )

[funkymbtifiction]

Is there any ways to have a healthier tertiary Fi? This is because I find myself sometimes losing control of my emotions, especially if I see someone being incompetent. (An example of that would be this person was supposed to edit my photo then ended up with nothing because he took my photo in a "square shape" instead of rectangular shape so it's impossible to fit into the template without stretching it. You can imagine how an aux-Te would have reacted to hearing this.)

I’m going to assume it’s okay to answer this in public and he won’t read it. ;)

Frustration with competence is very common in strong Te users; you cannot head it off every time, but there are a few things you can do to set boundaries.

Establish and come to explicit terms of agreement. In other words, never assume anyone knows what you want unless you have told them. If you asked said dude to take your photo but did not specify your needs (rectangular for a template instead of square), it’s not fair to get upset with him for not being able to read your mind. Sometimes people who are super efficient can forget not everyone is on their wavelength and they may not have been specific.

(Often, problems in relationships come from being non-specific / expecting the other person to assume what you want from them. IE, “You didn’t show up, it was our anniversary, I’m so upset with you!” to which the other person goes, “Wait, it was our anniversary and you planned something special? Why didn’t you remind me so I could leave work early? Had I known, I could have been there, since this obviously matters to you!” “Yeah, but you should KNOW and REMEMBER stuff like this!” “But… I’m not you. I don’t remember these things; it does not mean I do not value this relationship. Do I have to remember these things to keep you happy? Is that what you really want from me? If so, why weren’t you more explicit when I asked you last week what you want in this relationship?”)

If the agreement is not kept, you have free rein to remind them of said agreement in non-emotional terms (if you have to go take a walk, go take it; if you have to wait a day to answer him without blowing up, wait a day). “We agreed that you would deliver me THIS under THESE terms by THIS date, so I was disappointed to see that you have note kept to our agreement.”

In some situations, there needs to be a penalty if one person does not fulfill their obligation. Use this sparingly, but no one respects a doormat who never establishes boundaries. If Joe has a deadline, he will never respect Martha if she cuts him endless slack and holds things back to wait for him. He may have to be left out a few times (sorry, but this came in late, and we went to press / set up the booth / went ahead without it) before he learns to value Martha’s time. (This should be mostly in work / responsibility-related relationships and only used in extreme cases of personal relationships – such as a chronic significant other who shows up 56 minutes late to dinner or the movies every single time after endless excuses expecting you to wait. Well, let them show up a few times and find out you went to the showing you selected together without them, or ate dinner and cleaned up without them, and… the leftovers are in the fridge. You know where the microwave is, I’m busy.)

Regarding Te users in particular…

Remember, not everyone is as efficient as you are. They just aren’t. This is your area of expertise. You cannot hold other people to your standards. Cut them some slack. Remind yourself of the things they ARE good at.

You value a high work ethic. That matters to you. A lot. Other people may not care as much, so accept the work they do and unless it’s substandard, be okay with it.

Ask yourself where your anger is coming from, and why? Do you feel you have to do substandard work over, so you are angry with their performance robbing you of your spare time? If so, ask yourself why it matters this much, and if your standard is unrealistic; can you let the project / school assignment go the way it is, without re-working their part over? What does it teach them, if they know you will rewrite / re-do the project? (Clue: my input isn’t necessary, or good enough for them anyway, so why waste a lot of time on it?) Is your interaction with them part of the problem (you redoing the project = devalues their input = they do less good work = you have to do it over, a never-ending cycle?

Pick your battles. Some things? Worth being mad about. Other things? Not being worth mad about. The global sex-slave trafficking trade? Worth being mad about. If you have to go big, to remind yourself how your emotions fit in the grand scheme of things and electro-shock back your anger scale, do it. (I was mad not long ago about something stupid, trivial, and selfish, until I read about the race riots and realized my butt-hurt feelings matter not in the grand scheme of things. Let yourself be upset once in awhile, but pick worthwhile things.)

Know your moods and tolerance levels. Some days, things irk you more than other days. Acknowledge what’s really going on, on those days: are you reacting this way because you are really upset, or because you got no sleep, you are overworked, a massive project just blew up in your face, or your dog just died? Thinkers can often displace their feelings and sometimes not understand where the negative explosions are coming from, because of their tendency to rationalize away emotions rather than embracing them.

Learn to allow yourself to have emotional reactions without self-judgment. Thinkers have it tough, because they want the world to be logical, and they do not want to be illogical in the world; but when intense emotions take over, they feel out of control and sometimes even irrational. The more you push away from these feelings, try to contain them, or refuse to deal with them, the less control you will have over them in the long run. Let the emotions come. Ride the wave. Be okay with them. Reassure yourself it’s fine and normal to have them.

Know what triggers you and why. Someone bumps your desk, and your power cord comes out of the wall, and you lose your work. You lose it. Why? Is it incompetence or because your jackass older brother used to do that sort of thing to you on purpose? Do you really dislike this person and find her incompetent, or does dealing with her remind you of someone unpleasant you used to dislike? Why does someone talking about gun control upset you, but that same person can bring up fratricide and you could care less? These reactions are tied to your deeper self – who you are, what morals you have, your beliefs, and your pain.

Find a safe outlet to explore and connect to your Fi. The more exposure to and experience with Fi you have, the less Fi will feel “out of control” when it hits you. Some Fi’s like to use entertainment to explore and expose themselves to different emotional experiences, because they can do it in private without feeling judged or exposed – higher Fi’s often like to sit back and ponder the emotional dynamics of a film and how it resonated with them. You can also use books, music, poetry, art, and writing (yours).

Good luck. :)

- ENFP Mod