#science study men's relationships with their peers lol

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

I recently listened to a Dutch podcast episode about the why of sending dickpics wherr they spoke to senders of dickpics and the conclusion was like boys/men not knowing how to express how they feel and sending is the 'attempt' at conveying how they feel about the recipient. Which is both really concerning and really sad.

[dolugecat]

On some Japanese social issues I had learned about at uni and abroad):

(Rb ok!)

Legit had an epiphany about the true hidden meaning of the last arc of Mob Psycho 100. It’s hella projection but for real there is nothing neurotypical about Mob or Mob Psycho. I do not wish to enforce my interpretation on others (ironic bc I do that all the time but this is a serious social theory). There are some interesting and very sad social issues in Japan that the west really doesn’t understand but would I think help people understand a lot of context behind not only Mob Psycho, but also a lot of other anime. I learned this at my shitty university (prestigious but horrific) and while studying abroad in Japan and talking with Japanese peers. Get ready here we go (and tw for bullying and darker things):

Unfortunately in East Asian education systems, bullying can be extremely intense. Growing up I assumed it was over exaggerated extremely in anime for drama but it really can be so horrific. From what I’ve heard, there is often a single kid or so who is just shit on by everyone else, even the teacher. Mogami land *is* the reality of some Japanese kids. I’ve read that in Korea, this social punching bag sometimes is just the darkest skinned person (yayyy colorism /angry) and or someone who does not fit in. I mean, we have that in America too, but maybe not as common for the bullying to be as focused on one misfit rather than several. These kids just can’t escape the stigma too, kids from other schools find out they were a major victim at their old school and it starts anew. Thus there is so much stigma and incentive to join in on bullying so you aren’t the one. Sadly, this also ofc leads to higher suicide rates. That’s where the “shoe on building roof” anime trope comes in, bc somehow taking off shoes is relayed to death (I forgot why sorry)

There is a difference in how intense in general high school vs college is too. In the West, commonly college is the more intense curriculum and is harder than high school, but in Japan it’s usually the opposite. Grind suuuupppeeerrrr hard for entrance exams (huge standardized tests that determines what college you can qualify to) bc unlike the ACT or SAT here, that test is by far the most important factor for college admission. Then chill and relax a bit in college. Can’t relate. Name and prestige is very critical for job application, more important than here. That’s why planning out your future is sooo much more intense for Japanese high schoolers than in America, and why there is sooo much more pressure to excel in high school than here. Japanese school years and holidays are done different than ours, I’d suggest looking it up.

Social prestige of going to an American high school or college is nuts. Like whyyy do you value our shitty education, Japan’s is much higher quality (it’s bc we neo colonized them). Being able to speak English is very, very highly valued and any association with Americans make you cooler. From my experience, some Japanese students got very excited to practice speaking English with us, and their biggest issues with learning it is pronunciation, lmao. Wasai english is unique slang that is indeed English words but it’s kinda different and it’s kinda jarring to remember lol. So, Teru having parents that are working overseas isn’t too uncommon, idk about leaving him absolutely alone, but I did have a ex-friend who just came from Japan in middle school who’s situation probably wasn’t too far off from that. Empty wealth with no love, it’s no wonder those kind of people can end up being huge bullies (minori?)

I did a presentation on 引��こもり(hikikomori) for which means “shut in”, (like Serizawa) and it’s fucked up. It’s a social phenomena where according to some Japanese researchers a mix of undisciplined parenting, guilt/not living up to expectations, and hopelessness makes an alarming amount of youth/ young adults literally never go out side their house/room. Often a parent is “enabling” the behavior by supporting them, but idk the articles seemed a bit victim-blaming to me when I read it, but I don’t think I should make a judgement too hard, not my place. I will say I do suspect and believe I read something to support that ASD might play a role in hikikomoris (there is pitiful resources for autistic people in Asia, much much less support than even here, to the point I don’t think most know it exists). Like come on, with the other points I laid out my personal opinion as an Asian American with autism is that it really seems it’s unknowing ableism against autistic classmates, but I didn’t grow up in Asia so I don’t want to say.

Mental health in general is tragically quite abysmal in Japan, and with it being so hyper competitive and brutal work culture, it’s no surprise birth rate in Japan is so low; some Japanese young adults say it seems unethical to bring a life to such hostile world. Suicide rate is of the highest in the world. It’s fucked, I’ve interacted with some of the locals in Tokyo and they were so nice, but the business men just looked dead inside, it’s so sad.

Relationships between child and parent is also strained bc of this intense work and school culture. Quality time is too scarce when you gotta work so much. And the pressure from parents to do well in education or else you might end up socially stigmatized is rough. Bc your job is who you are, it’s hyper capitalism (thanks us for making them do this)

With autism being so unknown, support for parents in raising autistic kids is almost nonexistent. What happens if the “darker” side of ASD shows up in kids? I used to be a menace when I had meltdowns, I felt so bad but really just became so indiscriminately violent. See where this is going? Legit, I think ESP is a sort of metaphor for neurodivergance to ONE. There is so much stigma around it, and even less way for kids to understand why they are different than the others. My Korean family can’t admit we all got ASD, too much fear and internalized shame.

I got finally diagnosed with ASD as an adult and I’ll tell ya, I relate too much to Mob hurting Ritsu. I felt so bad, but also not in control, I knew what I was doing but not how to stop. Luckily, is was blessed in that my hyperfixations involved science and logic, so I did well at school. Sadly, our boy Mob just don’t got the passion or ability to do well at school. His kanji is very bad, even to point of not being confident he wrote a kanji (世) they learn when they are 9, in elementary school (thanks @katyatalks). Him being a bit berated by his parents for having bad grades and bending spoons seems harsh to Westerners I think, but IMO it’s pretty tame from what I’ve seen of some Asian parents (I get to say that lmao). Ofc, however the shaming is very real and Mob just agreeing with them about how weird and stupid he thinks he is so sad. There is even more pressure for the eldest to be better than here, I feel from some interactions. Nonetheless, it’s implied Mob is quite emotionally detached from his parents, even though he loves them, which also adds to his emotional complex. Combined with originally fragile self esteem and feelings of worthlessness, we got one emotionally stunted boy. However, contrary to common belief people with ASD are sometimes hyper empathic and experience emotions very intensely. We are prone to having “meltdowns” which if not assisted with can be quite violent if very intense. For me, my worse meltdowns as a kid came from when I didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting what I wanted, it seemed selfish and cruel of me but I couldn’t control it. I wanted to be a good kid, so why did hit my moms leg at target when she refused to buy me Pokémon toys? I couldn’t come up with a good reason for why my mind just commanded my body to do bad things, just a single thought was controlling me, I want I want I want I want I want ____. Which I argue could be what ???% represents… bc well…. Yeah….. hmm….. not in control of self (mob unconscious), selfish (not actually, I’ve forgave myself but my “normal” kid self was so ashamed), destructive, hurt family, wanting to stop but can’t, that’s kind of…. Too relatable.

But legit, since realizing my new HC, I’ve started to think of the last chapter of mp100 when I “explode” and it helps me feel better and I do gain “control” a bit easier. I don’t feel so bad anymore either, Mob!

[vin-taege]

decaf (m)

summary: taehyung was the cute barista who hated caffeine, yet worked at a coffee shop. you’re a semi-organized college student who’s always late to lectures.

genre: smut, fluff, pwp

pairing: barista!Taehyung x reader

words: 8k+

warnings: baby boy!Taehyung, femdom, accidental nudes, mentioned masturbation, pain kink, grinding, dry humping, oral sex, thigh-riding, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, degradation, newly discovered mommy kink

note: now freshly edited

Mr. Min’s history class was supposed to be five minutes ago, and the twenty-six year old with the mindset of an eighty-year old hated tardy students. However, you figured you were already late, so why not stop over at the café to pick up your breakfast (which you would also serve as your lunch)? Late nights of completing last minute essays and studying for exams due in two weeks’ time brought you closer to the staff. They’d fix you a small sandwich and a cup of coffee with just one text from you the night before.

Usually, the person in-charge of “VIP” breakfast duty was Kim Taehyung, not that he complained.

It wasn’t like the staff assigned him the task on purpose. There was no way the whole staff knew of his huge, in-depth crush on you and used this as an opportunity to bring you close together.

The bell rang lightly, alerting the arrival of a new customer. Taehyung looked up from behind the counter, almost dropping the sugar packets Jimin had asked him to find. Half of your hair was tossed up in a messy bun, the other half in tangles around your face. One backpack strap was slung over your shoulder, your fluffy hoodie underneath.

Jungkook almost groaned at the heart-eyes his co-worker made for you if it wasn’t for the long line of business men and office workers getting more impatient by the second. Jimin rushed over to Taehyung, visibly distressed with his lack of sugar packets, when he saw who the younger boy was looking at. With a sigh, he grabbed the brown paper back containing your food for the day, and shoved it against the blue-haired boy.

You have been doing this exact routine for almost two years, steadily building up your relationship with the barista. It was so refreshing seeing a friendly face outside of your usual college peers. You friends are deeply loved and appreciated, but seeing them also reminds you of the copious amount of essays all due within the same week. 

“Good morning!” You have Taehyung a close-lipped smile, still a bit groggy from your late-night study session.

“H-hey, beautiful! I just re-heated your food five minutes ago, so it should still be warm. Thought you would’ve been absent today,” he handed you the paper bag, boxy smile not leaving his face. “Overslept?”

You hummed, taking in the scent of toasted bread, gouda cheese, and bacon. “Unfortunately. Mr. Min would have to endure the catastrophe of my presence being unable to grace his lecture hall,” You threw a hand dramatically over your forehead, ignoring the looks you got from the other customers. After all, you didn’t have to wait in line.

A chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Don’t forget your coffee. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

“That feeling is correct, my good friend. I wouldn’t hold you any longer- don’t want Namjoon scolding you about professionalism again,” you waved him goodbye, exiting the café with the same light bell ring behind you.

You debated running to catch up to at least the last bits of the lecture, but your rough morning rendered your body sluggish, and you ended up walking anyway. Even when you knocked on the door, your professor gave you a pointed glare, to which you returned a sheepish smile to. Fortunately, there was still a free seat near the middle.

Half of the lecture already passed by, but you knew Seulgi would be more than happy to lend you notes. Not that she could say no to you or avoid you, since you dormed with her.

Taking the sandwich out of the paper bag, you realized Taehyung must’ve mistakenly packed two. It was risky to spend excess money on an extra sandwich, especially with rent day coming up, but looking closely into the bag, you were relieved you didn’t have to.

“On me :)” was written on a yellow post-it note, neatly placed on top of the second sandwich. Subconsciously, you smiled, taking a mental note to thank Taehyung later. Min didn’t really mind students eating in class - he did it himself. So, unabashedly, you tucked into the bacon and gouda cheese, while taking notes.

Halfway through, you caught a glimpse of a string of black ink scrawled onto the side of your coffee cup. You put your pen down and turned the cup over, revealing a phone number and a small message under it. “Text me when you’re free, beautiful.”

“___, I would appreciate it if you found my class more interesting than your coffee cup. I already took marks off you for being tardy, don’t make me do it again,” you looked up to see Min staring straight at you. Blushing, you mumbled out a small apology, though it wasn’t your professor that got you flustered, but a certain blue-haired barista.

 “You gave her what?!” Taehyung was ready to rip his hair out, or even fight Jimin at the café parking lot right there, right now, maybe even both. The older barista looked at him over his phone, lollipop still in-between his lips.

“I did you a favour,” he took the candy out with a pop. “I swear, if you silently pine over her for even one more minute, Jungkook will leap over that counter and punch the glass,” he punctuated, jabbing the lollipop at the wide, glass panes of the café.

“Oh my God, she’s going to think I’m some freaky weirdo,” Taehyung muttered, head still in his hands. “Even worse, a stalker.”

Jimin was drowning out the younger one’s ramblings, opting to check his watch instead. Fifteen minutes until break was over. He looked over to Taehyung again, sighing when he still heard his panicked mumbling.

“Tae, nothing bad’s going to happen. You could just tell her I was the one who wrote it, if you want to,” he rolled his tongue over the hardened sugar, artificial coffee flavour washing over his taste buds. “I don’t think you need to though. She definitely likes you back.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He immediately stopped, standing straight. “You think so? I mean, I always knew she was nice to me, but I thought she was nice to everyone, so I didn’t assume-“

“Literally everyone in the café knows about your unspoken mutual pining for each other,” He offered the lollipop to Taehyung. The younger one grimaced at the spit-covered candy and shook his head. “Funny for a person who dislikes coffee to be working in a coffee shop.”

“It has your saliva on it.”

“If it had her saliva on it, you’d bite the whole thing off in a heartbeat,” Taehyung sputtered, making the older boy smirk. “Wow, you’re into that? Kinky boy.”

“Hyung!”

Before Taehyung could further protest, he felt his phone buzz. He shot Jimin a glare before holding a finger up. Confusion, excitement, then an arrow to the heart; Taehyung jolted up, even surprising Jimin himself. “What? What is it?” he moved to glance at the younger barista’s phone, lips curling into a pleased smirk when he saw what was on the screen.

[unknown]: hi it’s ___ :)

[unknown]: thanks for the extra sandwich btw, I really appreciate it

Jimin patted him on the back, words of congratulations flowing through one ear straight out the other. He couldn’t focus on anything else aside from the two texts – both of them already making his day better.

 [cutie barista dude]: hey

[cutie barista dude]: it’s Tae from the café

[cutie barista dude]: u could call me café Tae lol

[cutie barista dude]: or not

[cutie barista dude]: are u busy?

Seulgi puckered her lips, smacking them before squinting harder at the lit screen. “Oh no, honey. He’s a multi-texter. Seems like the clingy type. And ‘café Tae’, really?”

Letting out a sigh, you rolled your eyes at her. “He’s nice. He makes me breakfast almost every day, and he’s actually pretty cute.” Stunning. Awe-striking. Breath-taking. Ethereal. ‘Cute’ was an understatement for this boy’s beauty.

“Just because a man makes you scrambled eggs, doesn’t mean you automatically jump on that dick and ride it into the sunset,” you almost spit your food out, hand thumping your chest to ease the chewed lump down. Seulgi didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“I don’t even like my eggs scrambled.”

“Oh, right. You like them fertilized,” In a blink of an eye, a notebook smacked her straight in the face. A scream of frustration left her, along with whines of how long it took her to do her makeup. Before she had a chance to pry your phone of your hands, you quickly replied.

To [cute barista dude]: nope. We’re on break :)

If you could only see Taehyung now, you’d realize how much of an impact you had on him. It was the café’s dead hours, or the short time frame where there were only one or two customers in the shop, giving the staff a breather. It was during this time almost the entirety of the staff were crammed inside the cleaning closet, circling around Taehyung, and egging him on to ask you out.

And if he only saw you right now, he’d realize how much of an impact he had on you.

It was Hyuna’s threat that got him to pressed send, “Kim Taehyung, if you won’t make a move on her, I will!”

[cute barista dude]: oh, in that case, do you want to maybe hang out tonight?

This time, Seulgi raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She hummed, drumming her fingers on the social science notebook you threw on her. “I don’t know about you, but if this boy’s as pretty as you say he is, I wouldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

It was rare whenever you listened to Seulgi, since she’s the personification of bad advice. However, she had a point; you were in dire need of a break, maybe even a boyfriend.

You typed in a small text confirming you were available, before standing up to go to your next lecture. Though you were roommates, you only shared one lecture hall with Seulgi – history. She walked next you in the hallways, still gushing about your “mini impromptu date” tonight.

“Just know that I’ll be holed up in my room all night. We have a thesis defense in three days, so if you want to take him out for a ride, don’t do it in our dorm.” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh.

 Taehyung was a nervous wreck. Maybe Jimin was right about him turning into a walking nervous system whenever he was with you. He didn’t even know what got into him, or where he got the sudden burst of confidence from.

All he knew was that it worked; because somehow, you were in his house, pressed against him, eating pizza while some surprisingly well-produced horror movie played in the background. You munched contentedly on your slice, snuggling into the warmth radiating from the lean boy.

“You know, when you said ‘hang out’, I expected like a park, or a restaurant. What I got was way better,” you smiled up at him.

Taehyung had to pretend his heart didn’t just sink, then explode back to life in a matter of milliseconds. “I was a little stumped with what movie to pick. Couldn’t choose between,” he took a glance at the DVD cover. “- El Orfanato and Your Name.”

“Your Name? Didn’t take you for a romance-anime type of guy.”

“My co-worker is. I saw it once with him, and it was really good though,” He shuffled closer to you, pulling the blanket over your bodies. You shifted in your seat, turning your body so you laid on top of him.

It was silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional Spanish from the film and your soft breathing. The fact that it wasn’t the usual rom-com or shallow-plotted movie – the usual picks for Netflix and Chill – really shed a light on how Taehyung genuinely wanted you to unwind with him, and not just get into your pants.

The movie itself was actually interesting. Knowing Taehyung was someone who had a passion for arts and photography, you didn’t expect any less from his taste.

“How did you find this film?” you murmured into his t-shirt. He shrugged, trembling fingers tapping rhythmically on your back.

“Watch Mojo list,” you threw your head back in laughter, him giggling with you.

“Heathen,” you managed to say in between breaths. “And I thought you were a man of class.”

“God forbid I actually take you out based on a Watch Mojo video. I like underrated films, the type that isn’t easy to find. I thought you might’ve wanted to take a break from cheap jumpscares and slasher gore.”

You hummed, “This is a nice change. I could get used to you taking me out.”

Red blossomed from his cheeks, heart soaring at the implication. “Oh, how convenient. I could get used to that too.” He cleared his throat, trying to meet your sparkling eyes. “Maybe I should start making you lunch too, aside from breakfast.”

“Like a date?”

The cola burned his nasal cavities, some of it spewing out his nose and mouth when he quite literally choked on it. Hurriedly, you thumped his back, voicing out your concern as he coughed his lungs out. Taehyung wished the ground would just swallow him whole. There was cola over his shirt and hands. Not to mention, half of his face was a sticky mess. He groaned, covering his face in shame.

“I’m sorry. That was very disgusting, I’m so sorry,” he sounded like he was about to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, really. Are you okay now?”

He gave a half-hearted nod. “Can we just pretend that never happened?”

You took some tissue from your bag and started wiping his face. Although it was pretty funny, you gave into him – you will never speak of the incident.

“Were you serious about going on a date with me?” he asked bashfully after an awkward period of silence.

“Why not? You’re a great guy, and I’d love to know more about the cute barista making me breakfast each morning. You know, outside your pre-established, in-depth nerd persona,” His mood was quickly lifted, though his smile still didn’t reach his eyes. “I need you to smile for me though.”

“But I am,” he whined. Admittedly, he was still embarrassed by the previous stunt he pulled. Fortunately, you could see right through him. You pounced at his sides, fingers scrambling all over his tummy. Taehyung yelped, wriggling away from you. Even though he was half your size, and can easily push you off, he decided to let you have your fun.

In the midst of trying to tickle him, you pressed your palm into his crotch, the action going unnoticed as you straddled him. Taehyung however, noticed it all too well. His eyes widened, and he begged himself not to pop a boner with you sitting right on top of him.

He couldn’t forget it, even after you’ve gone home and it was just a black screen on the TV. He couldn’t forget it even as he was cleaning up, finding himself with warm water running down his back, phone placed by the sink, the echo of a slow saxophone beat filling the room.

The heat and thoughts of your hand wrapped around him, mouth taking in his length, sent blood rushing to his head. Your scent still lingered at the back of his mind, pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes. Jimin would tease him for jacking off just after the first date. Was it even considered a date? After all, he said ‘hang out.’

Nevertheless, he grunted as he wrapped his hand around himself. Placing a steady hand on the shower wall, he shuddered, teasing himself with slow strokes before getting faster and faster. He closed his eyes and leaned into the wall, drowning himself in the thought of you.

Taehyung let out a groan, bucking into his hand. The warm water poured heavily on him as he slowly got closer to release. Chasing his high was an easy task; his mind was filled with thoughts of you moaning as he buried himself deep in you, the way you’d whimper under him, your breathy whines. Pre-cum was steadily flowing out his dick, his fingers getting sticky from it before the water would wash it away.

He let out low grunts, breaths getting heavier. Almost there. Just as he was about to release, the buzzing of his phone cut through the music. Huffing, he thought twice whether to continue or not, but decided against it. The text might’ve been important, especially since Namjoon hinted towards a promotion last week.

Head still reeling from his self-denied orgasm, he clumsily wiped his hands on the towel, hands still slightly wet. He trudged over to the sink, fumbling with his phone. The water dripping off his hands made it difficult to press the right buttons, and after two times of accidentally exiting to the home screen, he heard a camera snap, accompanied by a flash bouncing off the mirror.

“Shit.”

Taehyung put his phone down, thoroughly wiping his hands off this time. As soon as he deemed them dry enough, he checked his messages – only to come close to fainting.

To [Goddess]: photo sent

The picture was slightly blurry, but clear enough to make out what was going on in it. It was a mirror selfie. The flash did a good job of covering his face and most of his shoulders, but not too much of his lower body. His dick, still hard and even redder then before, stood against his stomach, water still dripping off his body.

To [Goddess]: I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I swear im not a creep please don’t hate me I fully understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore or if you want to break up with me im so sorry oh my god

To [Goddess]: I mean I assume we’re already together-together?? I don’t know, then again, im so sorry please ignore that picture forever

[Goddess]: seen

Fuck.

He really was the unluckiest guy in the world. The relationship started quickly and ended quickly, all because of a nude. He didn’t even know if he could face you tomorrow when you pick your breakfast up. Fuck indeed.

 On your end, it was definitely a surprise. Shocking? Yes. Unexpected? Definitely – you never would’ve anticipated it from Taehyung. However, unwanted? No. Hard no. As hard as his dick.

He was mouth-watering, a true monster by the sheer size and girth. Your cheeks heated up, tongue flicking over your lips. You clenched your thighs together, trying to seek friction under your flimsy shorts.

You had been snuggled up in bed, a good night text just sent to your possible future boyfriend when he had sent you this gem. You would’ve felt bad for him, the frenzied texts sent immediately after making your heart melt, but you were way too turned on to reply.

The thoughts of his large hands roaming your body, cupping your breasts, distracted you. The thought of him being the dominant one was worth contemplating - if he was, then you’d have no problem switching from time to time. You wanted to ride him, slide down that enormous length. If it looked that big in picture, you couldn’t even imagine its size in the flesh.  

You went to sleep that night tired from the pillow humping, but extremely satisfied with your orgasm. If you only knew Taehyung didn’t get to reach his own, you would’ve laughed; all good things are worth waiting for. You couldn’t wait to have your way with him – he was a strong baby boy, you could tell just from how pliant he was when it came to you.

The reply you typed out was forgotten and left unsent.

 There was no trace of Taehyung the next day. Jungkook was the one to hand over your breakfast, much to your disappointment. No offense to him – you had a soft spot for the kid – but you really wnted to see your starry-eyed boy today.

“Hey where’s Tae?”

Jungkook gave you an uneasy look. Nervously, he glanced towards the back of the room, where the kitchen was. Through the large connecting window, you could see a mop of blue hair weaving in between the metal stands.

“He’s on kitchen duty,” he blurted out, snapping your attention back to him. “I mean, he’s not here. He’s sick. Ask Jimin!”

With that, he chucked the coffee stirrers under the counter and scrambled off. Just as he stepped foot into the kitchen, Jimin went out, mid-yawn in a flour-smeared apron. You smashed the service bell repeatedly. Thank God the café had less people in the morning on Saturdays.

Jimin shot you an exasperated look, begrudgingly trudging over to you. He gave you his best “Employee of the Month” smile. “How may I help you?”

“May I speak to one of your employees at the back?”

“Taehyung is on kitchen duty.”

“Jimin, we both know Taehyung can’t even boil an egg,” you hissed, leaning farther on the counter, your nose almost touching his. Jimin bit his lip – you were right. Why did they even come up with that stupid excuse?

“Okay, fine. As far as I know, he’s beyond humiliated. He thinks you hate him. Ever since this morning, the only thing he’s been talking about is how much he hates his dick.”

You didn’t know whether your heart melted or ached for him. Men, in one way or another, can be adorably stupid and naïve. You tongued your cheek, considering your options. There was the choice of storming in the kitchen right there, right now, to confront Taehyung personally; but you didn’t want that going down your student record, especially since vacation’s just a month away. You muttered a quick thank you, turning to walk back to your dorm.

To [baby boy]: Meet me after your shift. I’ll be staying at my usual spot. Don’t even think of avoiding me.

 Five minutes until the end of his shift, and here Taehyung was; in the bathroom, washing his hands for what will be the fourth time. He was practicing what he was going to say to you, apart from giving himself a tiny pep talk in an attempt to boost his confidence.

Your last text glared at him from the screen. An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu hit him when he found himself in front of the bathroom sink, staring at the mirror again. Three loud knocks on the door made him flinch.

“Lover boy, your girl’s been waiting for you for about two hours now,” Jimin’s voice rang through the other side of the door.

“Just a minute,” The mere thought of him seeing you again just after he sent an unsolicited dick pic made him shiver. Lost in his cluttered thoughts, he didn’t even notice he left the door unlocked.

Jimin pushed open the door, letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw Taehyung looking blankly into the mirror. “For God’s sake, man up and just get it over with.”

When he saw the younger boy’s shoulders slump further, his gaze softened. He didn’t really take Taehyung’s situation seriously, not until he saw how much it upset him.

“Hey,” he walked closer, nudging the tan boy’s elbow. “If she really hated you, she would’ve left an hour ago.”

Taehyung scoffed, though a small smile played on his lips, encouraging Jimin to continue. “We both know ___. If anything, she might’ve thought it was a bit funny. Hell, she might’ve liked it.”

“Hyung!” he was flustered beyond relief, delivering hit upon hit to the older boy. “Don’t say that about her!”

“Just go out there, okay? Sort things out with her.”

He came out in a white undershirt he wore under the cafe’s light beige, long-sleeved uniform. You were down to your third croissant and fourth coffee when he spotted you. The nearer he got, the more he saw cluttered papers spread on he desk, the one you’re working on decorated with different highlighters. Blue for people, yellow for terms, green for dates - you had told him your color legends back then. 

The chair was dragged back, making you flinch in surprise. Taehyung, despite his height, seemed to shrink in his seat. His hands were folded neatly on his lap; you didn’t have to peek under the table to know his legs were spread wide, thick things just barely fitting on the chair space. 

You slid the pastry over to him, capped the highlighter, and melted back into your seat. Your bones let out a satisfying crack when you stretched; Taehyung was right about taking breaks in between study sessions. 

“Hey,” he offered, picking up a fork to lightly stab at the croissant. 

“Are you avoiding me?” His wide eyes met yours, eyebrows knit together. He resorted to lightly scraping at the side of the plate instead. 

“Don’t you find it weird?”

“Find what weird?”

“I don’t know. Maybe how you saw my... thing just hours ago, and now we’re here, pretending everything’s perfectly normal. Don’t you hate me? I literally acted like a fuckboy.”

You snorted, throwing your head back in laughter. He just stared at you in confusion. “No, what the hell? You are the opposite of a fuck boy. And you sent about ten apology texts right after. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“So you’re not mad?” He leaned forward, mouth brought into a pout. Pinching his cheek lovingly, you chuckled. 

“No. We can just pretend it never happened,” You winked, quoting his words from the cola incident. He quickly recognized them, groaning from more embarrassment. 

“Why do you do this to me?” he moaned, but didn’t pull away from your touch. “Is this the karma I get because of that WatchMojo list?”

“You did get it from a WatchMojo list!” you gasped, chucking him a highlighter - which he caught with no problem. “Talk about top ten anime betrayals.”

The atmosphere seemed to relax after that. Taehyung finally began eating the croissant, much to your doting. He sat up straight in his chair, compelled by the need to impress you, while also giving out a “no big deal” attitude. 

The conversation shifted to your current situation at university. You couldn’t resist telling him about your history professor - Mr. Min and his seemingly endless collection of ties, plus rumors of his friends-with-benefits relationship with Mr. Jung, the biology teacher in the next building. 

“Wait but, oh my God, I think he’s actually cool? We were going to watch a film for the whole period, and he accidentally clicked on the wrong thing. And guess what?”

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes were wide like a kid’s in a toy shop.

“It was his mixtape! I swear it was! The guy rapping sounded exactly like him.”

“No way! Isn’t this guy, what, thirty?” He crinkled his nose in disbelief. You waved him to move closer. getting your phone out to show him the video evidence you secretly took. Even if you filmed the whole thing in plain sight, Mr. Min would’ve been too busy frantically pulling every extension cord to notice.

Scrolling through your gallery with Taehyung by your side, you froze, spotting a fresh, all too familiar picture just before the video. You skipped a beat, before swiftly tapping on the video, careful not to tap the nude you saved. Hopefully, Taehyung didn’t see it, the singular picture sitting among other pictures of lectures and notes. 

You pretended to concentrate hard on the video, as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever watched. Taehyung leaned closer, his broad chest pressing against a part of your back. You could feel his breath fanning over your neck, the feeling doubling each time he laughed. In a way, it assured you he didn’t see anything. You sunk back into him, trying to get more comfortable.

“He isn’t bad,” he murmured. From the black spaces on the screen, you met his brown eyes, a sultry look hiding behind the mischievous crinkles. You gulped, nervousness starting to crawl its way back in. 

As soon as the video stopped, you locked your phone and shoved it back in your bag. “I just remembered, we actually have a test tomorrow so I better go-”

“Can I come with you?” You stared at Taehyung, mouth hung open. He had a serious expression on, emotions unreadable behind his piercing gaze. “I could help you review.”

“That... wouldn’t be necessary. I could really do it myself. Plus, you look tired and I think you should re-”

“No. I insist,” His lips curled into a smile, almost daring. He leaned closer, lips just centimeters away from your ear. “I think we need to talk some more.”

The ding of the elevator signaled you it was already your floor. Thank God Seulgi was out for a group project tonight. The history test was partly a lie; you definitely remembered, but had already reviewed. Miraculously, you managed to get your sleep schedule under control, while also studying everything you needed to study. Taehyung would be proud.

Speaking of, he has now claimed his spot on your couch, less than gracefully plopping down. At least he had the decency to leave his shoes neatly by the coat rack. 

“So, what’s your topic?” You laid your notebooks down on the table, the post-it notes wedged between the pages almost falling out. You set the table up first, Taehyung’s question dissolving into thin air. Instead, he resorted to flipping through some of the pages, gnawing on his lips with each bit of information he took in. 

“That’s a lot,” His whisper didn’t leave unnoticed. You perked up, flashing him a mocking grin. “I thought you said you insisted?”

Immediately, his face burned red, resembling that of a child whenever he throws a tantrum. “I did! It’s just a lot, okay? Even I don’t take this much notes. How many pens do you go through in a day?”

You rolled your eyes, picked up your self-made flashcards - which really were just small, index cards scrawled on with gel pen - and handed them to Taehyung. “Quiz me with dates first, then we’ll work our way through important people and events.”

He fumbled with the cards for a while, taking a brief glance on each of them, before straightening them out and facing the “answer” sides of the cards away from you. “Great Depression?”

Your pace in answering was pretty quick, so in order to trick him into thinking you’ve just memorized it, you had to slow down, throw a few “uhm’s” and “hm’s”. There were times you’d get a question wrong on purpose to make the act more believable. 

Slowing down the pace wasn’t too difficult too. He was so distracting, in a way. He couldn’t be doing anything and he’d still be the most attractive person in the room. His hair fell lightly by his brows, cheeks full and glowing like his sun-kissed skin. The shirt he wore was a size too large for him, the neckline dipping just above his chest, showing his parts of his collarbones. 

The mass of index cards was thinning out when a particular question snapped you out of your daze.

“What was that picture in your gallery?” Taehyung’s eyes were trained on you, the flashcards still in his hand. You prayed you weren’t blushing right now.

“What picture?”

“The picture. You know what I’m talking about,” His serious expression slowly cracked, a smile coming through, along with a darkening gaze in his eyes. “You saved the picture I sent, didn’t you?”

Before you could think twice about it, you had chucked him a pillow, Taehyung effortlessly dodging it. “No! No, I didn’t! What the hell, Tae?”

Instead, his grin grew wider. He threw the cards on the table, and began crawling near you. You shuffled farther back into the couch, one of the armrests eventually hitting your back. He had you pinned down. 

“I saw it, ___. Don’t even deny it,” He licked his lips, the stupid smirk still on his face. “You liked the picture, didn’t you, ___?”

His voice was low, eyes piercing into your very soul. Instead of replying, you slipped a hand around his nape, bringing him closer then smashing your lips together. His lips felt like cotton on yours, and you treated them as such, licking the soft flesh to ask for permission. 

He parted his lips, granting you access. You let yourself explore the cavern of his mouth, engaging his tongue in a battle of dominance. Naturally, he let you win. You drew back for a split second, only to say, “Little brat.”

You heard him snicker, before connecting your lips once more. You wrapped a leg around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Your hands busied themselves by tangling them in his hair. In all the haze of the steamy kiss, you felt him growing under his pants. 

You pressed your foot more forcefully against him, making his crotch press into yours. The uncomfortableness of his jeans could be felt by how hard his cock was straining against it. You wrapped your other leg around him, then brought your lower half up, grinding straight into his erection. 

He groaned into the kiss, pulling away only to focus on your neck. He left a trail of love bites, hues of purple and blue, coming from your jawline to the base of your neck. You continued grinding into him, with slow, hard rolls of your hips. His head lolled downwards, slotting into the curve of your neck. His increasingly heavy pants could be heard, no matter how hard he tried to conceal them under the guise of nipping on your neck.

A light sheen of sweat was starting to cover you. The leather of the couch felt sticky on your skin, but it felt too good to pull away from. You allowed yourself to let out only a few long, groans, careful not to show him how much you’re loving this.

Your panties already felt soaked. The button of his jeans would get caught in the thin material of your shorts, rubbing against your clit. You jerked into him, borderline humping his boner. 

Somehow, you still had your presence of mind, and you had to remind yourself to calm down. Shakily planting your feet on any flat surface you could feel, you pulled your hips away from him, eliciting a whine from the boy. 

“You look uncomfortable there, sweetheart,” you said, hands working to unbuckle his belt. You took it off, unbuttoning his jeans too. Instead of releasing him already, you slid your hand in his boxers, squeezing the rock-hard length lightly. He screwed his eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. 

Your other hand pushed at his chest, steering him into a new position. He sat on the couch, feet planted on the ground while your straddled him. You brought your hips down again, his boxers being the only material separating you from his cock. 

“Help me get this off, baby,” You murmured, about to shrug your shirt off. He shed you off the material at once, flinging it to the side. Then, he started grabbing at your shorts, running his hands around your ass too. With two, swift tugs, your shorts were pooling at you knees. 

As soon as he got them off, he grabbed at your hips, forcing you to grind on his clothed cock again. You slid one of your hands from his hair, touching the broad expanse of his chest, his toned stomach, until you reached his boxers. You slipped your hand, fingers wrapping around his cock, making him gasp into your mouth.

You gave him a couple light strokes, before pressing your hand flat against the head of his cock, then digging your palm into him. He threw his head back in a groan, grip getting looser on your hips until he was back in his original position, head buried in your neck. 

The room felt hotter, more humid even. Taehyung’s hair began to stick to his forehead the more he leaned into your touch. The picture wasn’t lying to - even without seeing him yet, you already knew he was big. His girth alone made it difficult for you to wrap your fingers around the entirety of him. 

Each jerk of his hips into your palm sent more pre-cum dripping out his cock. You angled your hand a little so that you could thumb lightly at his slit, spreading the pre-cum over the head. He was leaking so much that a wet patch started to form on his boxers. You knew the wet fabric sticking to his skin might make him uncomfortable, but you waited before making him take it off. You wanted him to suffer for a bit.

After letting him grind himself into your palm, you switched tactics and instead, gripped the base of his cock, jerking him off rapidly. His whines sent shivers down your spine, made you gush more into your already ruined panties. 

More pre-cum dripped down his cock, coating his entire length. It was easy for you to tug on his cock, but you didn’t want to make him come yet. You retracted your hand, wiping off the slick on his sweat-covered chest. “Take it off.”

He almost fell off the couch in his eagerness to get the fabric off. By the time he did, the mess in his pants was on full display. His cock sprung into his stomach, twitching when air hit it. There was pre-cum reaching until the top of his thighs, smeared all over the area surrounding his dick. 

“Do you want me to clean that up for you?” You purred into his ear. A choked sob made its way out of his abused lips while he profusely nodded. “Sit properly, my messy baby.”

Taehyung got off you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. You placed yourself on the floor, kneeling before him. With one hand, you grasped his leaking cock, licking a strip from his balls up to the tip. He sighed out in relief when you licked the tip, before taking in the head of his cock. 

You sucked hard on his cock, the bitter taste of pre-cum filling your taste buds. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm mouth around him, tongue pressing firmly against his cock. A sudden jerk of his hips sent his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

Gagging, you slapped the inside of his thigh harshly. He whined, murmuring a quick apology. You rolled your eyes at him, sinking farther down his cock, until your nose nestled between his fine hairs.

You trailed your nails down his thighs, trying your best to relax your throat. Taehyung was taking in big gulps of breath, arousal flooding him when he saw you innocently looking back at him. “Baby, can I fuck your mouth?”

You hummed in approval, guiding his hands to your hair. With a tight grip, he pushed your head firmly against his pubic bone, before holding you in place and thrusting deep into your mouth. 

He hit the back of your throat each time he bucked his hips towards you. His head was thrown back, swimming in pleasure. A wanton of moans filled the room, along with your lewd gagging. His fingertips burned at your scalp, grip so tight his knuckles turned white. 

Desire coursed through your veins. You could faintly feel your essence dripping down your thighs, your fingers itching to insert themselves into your throbbing pussy. However, you wanted to focus on the writhing boy in front of you for now. 

He felt so big - was so big.  You could feel him down your throat, cock squeezing through the tight confines. Saliva trailed down your mouth as you dig your nails into the soft flesh of his thighs.

“Ah! A-ah fuck! You feel so good,” His thrusts were turning sloppy, the need to come burning at the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold his release, chest heaving slowly, a pleading look in his eyes once he stared down at you. “Can I, please?”

In response, you swallowed around him, sending him headfirst into his orgasm. Hot spurts of his cum shot down your throat, the rest falling on your lips when he pulled out. You coughed a little, before licking your lips and swallowing the remaining drops of his cum. Finally, you released your grip from his thighs, admiring the red marks left on the tan skin.

His thighs were still quivering, breath shaky. Taehyung was still reeling from his orgasm, giving you an opportunity to sit yourself on his thighs, hands placed on his chest. “Hm, this looks like a nice spot.”

Taehyung didn’t have time to respond before he felt your hot mouth on his chest, sucking and nibbling on the skin. He whined, but placed his hands on your ass nonetheless. Once you were satisfied, you pulled away to admire your work - a purplish mark sitting nicely above his collarbone.

“You didn’t get to cum,” He pouted almost cutely at you. Chuckling, you re-positioned yourself so you were sitting with his thigh between your legs. You brought your hips down, clit brushing against his thigh. “Don’t worry, I will.”

With his strength gradually coming back, he flexed his thigh, providing you a firmer surface to grind on. Your arousal coated his thigh, making it easier to buck your hips into him. His hands were still on your ass, helping you ride his thighs. 

You brought your lips against his again, puling him in for an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue finding its way into yours. 

Suddenly, you gasped; Taehyung slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, arching the long digits to rub against your g-spot. You groaned, increasing your pace and begun bouncing up and down his thigh. 

He thrust his fingers in, reaching spots so deep inside you, shooting sparks through you. One of your legs brushed his already hardening cock, making him flinch in overstimulation. The action caused him to draw his thigh away, cutting you off from your pleasure.

Abruptly, you stopped. You tugged his head back and forced his jaw open, spitting inside his mouth. He swallowed it immediately, big eyes looking back at you in arousal and slight fear. “Stay still or else I’ll grind my foot into your pathetic little cocklet.”

The movement was fast, just from the corner of your eye, but you caught it. His dick had twitched. The moment you put two-on-two together, you smirked down at him. He bit hard down his bottom lip, relishing your words. 

Of course you didn’t mean it. Obviously, he was nowhere near having a cocklet, but his reaction pushed you to kept going. If he wanted to feel small, you’ll make him feel small. “Dumb baby. The only thing you know is to fuck, right? Can’t even control your fucking cock. Much less stay still for me. You’re just such a needy bitch, huh?”

This time, he let out a long groan. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. He was babbling, didn’t have enough presence of mind to form a coherent sentence. “Mouth... My mouth- baby- pl-please. C-Cum.”

“You have to use your big boy words, honey.”

He took a deep breath, mouth slack for a few moments. A strained moan made its way through his lips. “P-Please cum on my face?”

“You have to try better than that,” You sighed, feigning indifference. With another whine, he said, “Please, mommy, please cum on my face. I want mommy to feel good. I want to taste mommy please.”

“Lie on the floor.”

He scrambled on his feet, in a rush to lie down on the cold, hard surface. He grimaced at first when the cool marble hit his skin, but all discomfort he had melted off when you settled both knees on either side of his head. You knelt facing his cock. “Use your mouth.”

You lowered your hips, letting your pussy meet his lips. He lapped at your wetness, licking in between your labia, underneath your clit. He latched his lips onto the sensitive nub, sucking hard on it. His hands were wrapped around your thighs, bringing you closer to him. 

Your hands clutched at his hair. You could feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, with only one strong lick from his skillful mouth pushing you over the edge. 

You cried out, thighs spasming, clenching his head against your pussy. You leaned over, grasping his cock and tugging on it harshly. He jerked away from your touch, but your grip was strong. He choked on his sobs as you milked his cock, a smaller amount of cum spurting out his dick. 

You slumped down next to him, both of you panting hard. Taehyung’s tears were freely flowing, every part of him a mess. Some of your cum was still scattered over his face, his cum equally a mess on his thighs and on your hand. His hair was in tangles, lips red from how much you abused them.

“You’re very scary and mean during sex,” He said in a small voice, though his tone was teasing. You looked at him, a small smile on his face. “I liked it.”

You chuckled, gaining your breath back. “Hey,” you touched his forearm. “Let’s go to my room, okay? There’s a proper bed there you can lie down on.”

After you got him a glass of water, you ran a bath in the small tub you had. The bathroom that came with the dorm was small, but one of the only ones that had a tub in it. It was easy to say it was one of your most prized possessions. You mixed the last of your bubble bath formula in, and went back to fetch Taehyung. 

When you got to him, he was huddled under the blankets. Light snores came from his still figure. You nudged him lightly, shaking him awake. “Baby? The bath’s ready.” 

He looked groggily up you before nodding. You held his arm, supporting some of his weight. 

He sighed in relief once the warm water touched his skin. You placed yourself in front of him, leaning onto his chest. You both closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax more in the bath, with each other. You were pressed closely to him, his arms around you. 

“I didn’t go too far, or anything?” You murmured. You were honestly worried you did because he was in such a haze when you were walking him towards the bathroom. 

He hummed, sending vibrations at the top of your head. “It was amazing, promise. You were amazing. And it felt really good.”

“Thank God. I thought I might’ve scared away my potential boyfriend,” He let out  deep chuckle, chest rumbling. 

“I’m not that easy to get rid off, baby. Wait- I’m your boyfriend now? Am I?” His face lit up, mouth in his signature boxy smile. You nodded your head, sporting a wide grin of your own. He did a little fist pump before taking your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses. “I love you so much.”

The morning after, Jimin noticed an unusual glow emqanating from Taehyung. He had the same love-dovey look on his face, only amped up by a hundred. He left his things at the locker room, humming a small song as he smoothed out his uniform. 

“You look especially... dreamy today,” Jimin said to him, two macchiatos in his hand. He shrugged, continuing to work the coffee machines. “I guess you worked things out with ___?”

“Things worked out very well for us,” He set the coffee cups on the tray, along with a some pasta and a sandwich. He picked the tray up, smiling back at Jimin. “You could say did she liked the picture.”

It was one of the rare days you didn’t wake up late. Taehyung had prepared you breakfast while you got ready, and you left for university and work together. Seulgi was, thankfully, still not at home, but she sent you text saying she spent the night over at her group mate’s house. 

If Taehyung remembered it correctly, you were supposed to have History by now. He smiled, knowing you’ll effortlessly ace the exam - thanks to his help of course. 

He finished drying the rest of the plates when his phone buzzed. He excused himself to the employee’s washroom before unlocking it to see a message from you. 

It looked like you were in a bathroom stall. You were wearing your shirt, but your nipples were visibly peeking through the material, stretched ridiculously tight over your boobs. “Thinking of you. Finished the test early.” Your next messaged read.

He gulped. He may not be getting the Employee of the Month award after all, not with how much time he is about to spend in the washroom. 

[rachelthompsonauthor]

We all take things personally because we are all, well, people, aka, persons. We live our lives through our own eyes and experiences, right? This is how people argue with one another, whether that’s in real life or online. “In my experience,” or “In my humble opinion,” is how most of these debates begin.

What if you view things from another’s’ perspective? As the saying goes, “Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.” In this age of controversy, that’s mighty difficult, particularly from a political or religious perspective. I’m constantly amazed at the responses some men give me about being a childhood sexual abuse and rape survivor – what they would have done in my situation, 🙄when they cannot comprehend what it was like for me (at age eleven) or in college.

It can be quite frustrating to explain my perspective and experiences to people who have absolutely no comprehension of what it’s like to live through these experiences, and to be treated as if I’m to blame for what happened.

One of the most effective ways I’ve learned to not take anything personally is by learning and using The Four Agreements, a small yet effective code of conduct by Don Miguel Ruiz. Don’t Take Anything Personally is the Second Agreement. I’ll break it down for you here with examples and how to apply it to your own life as a survivor.

Let’s deconstruct.

Taking Things Personally Causes Frustration

Take my example above: if a man says to me, “Why didn’t you fight back?” which is a typical, ignorant answer from a non-survivor who understands nothing about how the brain reacts to trauma, I become frustrated because I want to educate him with facts and science. Facts and science do not work on someone whose intent is to denigrate and victim-blame me.

The onus is on me to take a breath and examine the intent of the person who is interacting with me:

What’s in it for him?

Does he want to learn more about sexual abuse survivors and trauma?

How the brain reacts to trauma?

How he can help others who have been raped or abused? 

Since the Third Agreement is Don’t Make Assumptions, I have the choice to continue interacting with the person and attempt to have a meaningful, educational discussion to move the narrative forward, or I can shut it down and move on, saving myself the possible frustration of what could potentially upset me further.

In an argument, each side wants to defend their position because we feel we must be right in order to win. Decide what ‘winning’ is going to cost you.

I have the choice, here. I have the agency to own how I take comments from this man (if at all – the Block and Mute buttons are our friends on social media). If I’m having this discussion with someone in real life, I can decide to end the discussion or walk away if it’s not serving me or causing me frustration.

I can draw a boundary because this person’s comments are not about me at all – they come from his lived experiences or viewpoint.

And this is the key to not experiencing frustration when healing from sexual assault – what others say they believe in reaction to our truth is on them, not us.

Taking Things Personally Lowers Self-Esteem

Based on one survivor story:

Let’s say your mother tells you she doesn’t believe another family member sexually abused you as a child, and it crushes you. You find yourself alone and desperate to make her believe you at all costs. You spend years in therapy, yet it doesn’t help. You’re at odds with her over every small thing because this big thing looms large over your entire relationship. Understandable.

You starve yourself. You sleep around. You drink and dabble in drugs. You can’t keep a job. You self-harm. All because your mother, the person who is supposed to be in your corner, of all people, doesn’t believe you. When you look in the mirror, you hate your reflection. You speak so negatively to yourself, even your closest friends would be appalled (all common for survivors, by the way).

Trace that back to the fact that you have taken her disbelief personally. You’ve pinned all your hopes toward healing from this trauma onto one person: her. When in fact, healing depends on someone else entirely: YOU.

If someone isn’t treating you with love and respect, you are allowed to walk away from them.

This is also a boundary, and yes, part of not taking anything personally. What this mother did is terrible, absolutely. What this survivor needs is to stop looking for support from someone who refuses to give it, and realize she’s worthy of self-love and support from a community of survivors and therapists who will help her embrace her in healing.

This isn’t woo-woo shit. This is reality. If the people in your life aren’t bolstering your self-esteem, it’s on you to take action to change those circumstances, not them. If they don’t believe you, you can still seek help and support. Healing isn’t dependent on other people believing you – it’s dependent on you getting the support you need and deserve. Toxic people won’t give you that, so don’t give them anything.

I’ve been in this situation in the past with men. I left them. Cutting ties is the best thing.

Taking Things Personally Creates Conflict

We get defensive when someone calls us out on something they don’t agree with. Our lived experience is different from someone else’s. Intuitively, this makes sense. We fight for what, in our eyes, is right. Remember this:

Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves. Even when a situation seems so personal, even if others insult you directly, it has nothing to do with you. What they say, what they do, and the opinions they give are according to the agreements they have in their own minds. Their point of view comes from all the programming they received growing up. ~ Don Miguel Ruiz

I see this so much on social media, don’t you? I get caught up in it myself, especially with regard to victim-blaming survivors for being assaulted and abused or raped. I cannot, and will not, ever accept that it’s ever a survivor’s fault for a perpetrator committing a crime. We never blame a woman for being car-jacked or robbed at the ATM, do we? So why do people blame her for being raped? It’s mind-boggling to me. So yea, it feels personal.

And yet…I know in my heart, it’s not. People who victim-blame are conditioned by their own families, peers, news, media, and social media to take a stance that makes sense to them and their point of view, and that has nothing to do with me. Arguing with them, providing facts, sharing my experiences, etc., does nothing to help change their minds.

Example: When an (in)famous YouTuber tweeted: “Anxiety is created by you” (and then subsequently deleted it because wow, so uninformed), many of his bro-dudes supported him by explaining that it’s true – all mental illnesses could simply go away if we just tried harder, worked out more, and stopped being victims.

I’ll admit, I got involved in attempting to educate some of these bro-dudes by sharing that mental illness isn’t something that goes away like a bad cold, or is a figment of our imaginations. Sure, it’s all in our heads – our brains, that is. And so on.

Oy, the mansplaining. What could I – a woman of 55 years, who has studied mental illness for over twenty years (longer than most of those kids have been alive LOL), who has anxiety, depression, and cPTSD, who has written two books about it (so far) that have been vetted and reviewed by several psychologists, who hosts a weekly Twitter #SexAbuseChat that deals with mental illness specifically for survivors of sexual abuse – know about mental illness? 

Yet, you see, it didn’t matter. I took it personally. They took it personally. It was no longer about mental illness – it became more about who was right. My facts, stats, and science had nothing on their put-downs and misogynistic chuckles.

There could be no conflict resolution because our values would never align. 

Once I reeled myself back in, I began writing this post. I reminded myself not to take it personally because what they were saying wasn’t about me. I reminded myself about my own healing boundaries, self-care, and how to put my energies into something more positive – writing.

Taking Things Personally Takes Energy

As I just mentioned, that interaction took enormous energy; energy I could use elsewhere. And that’s really the crux of this post. Where are we spending our energy when we take something personally? Usually, we end up in a negative loop of toxicity. That’s part of the cycle our brains play with us, a pattern we may not be aware of. Becoming aware of this pattern allows us to change it. That’s what these agreements help us do.

It hurts when people say something negative about us, and we take it personally. The wound festers; we poke at it, and peel at that scab. We’re so focused on the one comment, we shut out everything else, even the positive stuff, to the point that we’re missing out on life.

Example: In my BadRedhead Media business, I work with authors. Authors receive book reviews, oftentimes from non-professional reviewers. Sometimes, these reviews are verging on the ridiculous. That’s just the way it is. Amazon and other online retailers allow for these reviews. It is what it is. As an author myself, I, too, receive these reviews.

We tend to focus on these rare and silly one-star reviews, rather than the majority of five-star, terrific reviews. This is knowns as the negativity bias, which means our brains are hard-wired to focus on the negative, most likely due to evolution:

The evolutionary perspective suggests that this tendency to dwell on the negative more than the positive is simply one way the brain tries to keep us safe.

We’re not doomed, however. By not taking things personally, we are reframing these situations, and using our energy differently. Comments that strike us as negative could potentially be a learning experience, even if we feel offended. Always be on the lookout for a learning opportunity, or ways to utilize that energy toward something more useful.

Ask yourself these questions to refocus your energy:

What can I learn from this?

What difference will this make in my life?

How can I change what I’m doing with this reaction (or do I need to)?

What activity can do I do now to take myself out of this situation?

How can I change my thinking pattern to grow from this?

Listen, none of us is perfect. I first read The Four Agreements back in the 90s, and found it useful because it helped me make sense of a difficult situation in a corporate setting. I now find it helpful as both an author and entrepreneur, as well as a mom. Being on social media and online is a crucial part of my business, so I deal with many different types of people constantly. If I took everything they say personally, I’d never get out of bed.

If you aren’t getting what you need from someone or something, remember – it’s okay to withdraw. You aren’t a loser. Maintaining peace in your life and focusing on your healing will always “win.”

Please share your thoughts and comments below.

Do you need help right now? Please contact RAINN at rainn.org or 24/7 at 1.800.656.HOPE

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

  The post 4 Reasons Taking Things Personally Prevents Healing appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

via Rachel Thompson

[arcenciel-par-une-larme]

Reasons to be a leftist in the 21st Century

[translated and slightly modified from an article I read. DISCLAIMER I do not own anything except my own additions, where noted.]

Because you can consider yourself morally superior to everybody else without ever having to practically prove what your superiority consists in. It suffices that you pose it as an axiom.

Because you have the freedom to maintain that true politics is limited in philosophical quotations and the recitation of noble desires with which pretty much everybody (especially Peter Pan) agrees.

Because you can criticise everything without offering a counter-proposal. The answer to everything is “love” [own note: cf. “open-mindedness”, “tolerance”]

Because you are a priori right in every discourse, since you are not obliged to construct and submit arguments. In case your opponent demands them, you can easily leave them dumbfounded by asserting that s/he has never studied history (which, by the way, is ALWAYS on your side) [own note: Alternatively, come up with some convoluted reason to declare them sexist, racist or homophobic. That ought to shut them up].

Because you have the most beneficial relation to capitalism possible. You take advantage of it in the way, time and degree that you desire (e.g. by consuming its goods, offering your services to it, being rewarded by it) but theoretically you are its permanent detractor. Thus, you manage to benefit from its positive aspects, while at the same time you renounce its “monstrous evils” -  given that, formally, you disagree with it and, as is well known, all that matters in your world is ideology, i.e. what you believe and say you are.

Because you are able to be philosophically opposed to the concept of power or authority and consider anyone who wields it (in any form and intensity - from the local school principal up to the PM himself) inhumane, but also approve of it with immense joy when it is exerted by you or anyone of your persuasion.

Because you can defy every procedural framework and democratic tool when they are imposed and used by non-leftist folks (because, in your judgment, “they are not pro-human” (now ain’t that deep)) but also demand their strict observance when those whom you like call upon them.

Because you deserve to and, to be exact, enjoy the exclusive privilege to label every application of a law which you don’t particularly like as fascistic and totalitarian, as well as designate the state involving the legal status quo which you dislike as fascistic. In the meantime, you have the right to state your satisfaction in the implementation of the exact same laws and democratic institutions - as long as the government is of leftist leanings.

Because you enjoy the exclusive privilege to produce authentic judgment on violence, as well as constantly invent new sub-categories of it, regardless of the dictionary definitions or plain sense because, clearly, you know better. In the same framework, you hold the absolute right to detest violence and put under the umbrella of its vague definition anything that displeases you, but also call for its use against your enemies, because then it is not “violence”, it’s “justice”. [own note: usually expressed in terms such as “the oppressed have every right to lash out against their oppressors”]

Because your arsenal of arguments consists primarily of absolutes which are not subject to scrutiny under reason and/or science, because, as everybody is aware, sciences and degrees are bought/sold/corrupted things who estrange man from true knowledge [own note: to this you may add, ad libitum, that “evidence and logic are obsolete constructs of the cis white heteropatriarchy”]. Thus, you have the ability to support everything but also deny everything, without bearing any sort of burden of proof for your allegations.

[my own addition] Because, depending on your metaphysical beliefs in the context of your leftism, you can also have a special relationship to science as well. When your opponent happens to be a theist, you can very simply refuse to debate with “retards like him/her” by playing the “Science has proven that God does not exist lol who could ever take you and your arguments seriously” magic card, with no examples or citations needed even for that, but when peer-reviewed articles prove that the gender pay gap can be traced back to causes unrelated to institutionalised sexism, then “the results are obviously rigged” and “traditional logic and reason are patriarchal constructs”. Or, more concisely: theists bear a burden of proof for the existence of God, but your claim that there are 145 genders must be taken as gospel.

Because you can shun the education system, school, college, university, classes, studies and separate disciplines, but at the same time assert an active role in the structuring of the curriculum and administration of colleges and universities.

Because your former life means jack s**t once you decide to join the “enlightened” left. From the moment on that you embrace leftist dogma and modify your speech accordingly, you are a true missionary and whatever you say gains extra importance and a poetic gravitas. Your whole record is wiped clean and you are a saint in everybody’s eyes. [own note: if you want some evidence off the top of my head, take a look at the organisers of the vagina demonstrations women’s marches. Hint: if you find an ex-torturer and a Sharia apologist among them, don’t say I didn’t warn you.]

[own addition] Because, once you are a leftist saint, or at least seek protection under the wings of the Almighty Church of Leftism, you get a free pass on things ten times as controversial as what you criticise others for. By way of example, you can compare opposition to no-measures immigration to genocide, but when you say “kill all men” it’s ‘just a joke’. Likewise, when you deem your child trans in its third year of age, you are a ‘hero’ of ‘progress’, but a couple raising their kids in a Christian worldview and way of living are “indoctrinating them” and it counts as child abuse.

Because while, formally, you are strongly opposed to discrimination and labelling, you are entitled to lump all your intellectual opponents together into one enormous category, apply to that category the label that suits you and cast stones at them at will.

Because you have the freedom to speak on behalf of “the people”, without any authorisation by anybody.

Because you have the most convenient relationship with logic. Whenever you want or are forced to collide with it, you aren’t irrational as anybody else would be, you’re just a romantic revolutionary who wants to make the world a better place.

Because you can continually reinforce your position (which is either way dominant) by invoking the struggles of others, with whom you are not connected in any way beyond your imagination.

Because your left-ness is something akin to an honorary title, which shall accompany you throughout your entire life and shall buy you positions, distinctions and glory, without your actually being obliged to do anything for that or possess any ability or talent.

Because you have the mind-bogglingly surreal advantage of stigmatising as apolitical [own note: or, just as easily, fascist, medieval or nazi] anyone whose political convictions fall to the right of yours.

[own addition] Because, if you are a leftist but also consider yourself Christian, things could not be better for you! Not only can you conveniently label any conservative a racist/misogynist/homophobic/islamophobic bigot, but when it comes to Christian conservatives in particular you can also confidently shout that they are not true Christians and gleefully proclaim how God will burn their asses in Hell eternally and you will be laughing. (Yes, fellow leftist ‘Christian’, the “love your enemies and pray for them” commandment only applies to others; you are a cute, special little snowflake and you don’t need to burden yourself with anything resembling courtesy or ethics or bearing your own cross and all that jazz...)

Because it is ex officio self-explanatory and universally accepted that you belong to the group of the greatest Fighters for Social Justice and, at the same time, the most oppressed among all citizens, just because you participate in rallies and believe that the state owes you extra stuff and special treatment.

Because you can always decry propaganda while simultaneously declare yourself unaffected tby it - and in this you see no contradiction.

Because you have the most peculiar and schizoid relationship with the state. It is obliged to pay you, recompense for you, educate you, take care of you, employ you, spoil you, not tire you, foster you and do likewise for your children and the only thing you have to do is point out how bad and incompetent it is.

[own additions henceforth] ...until a left-wing government is elected and then you insist that we must give more and more and MORE power to the state or else the entire country is doomed. When, after all that, you have a right-wing government again, only then and not a moment earlier you have to remember that it is bad to trust the state with excessive control and call for curbing its power.

Perhaps most importantly: Because you can spend years on end being allergic to any sign of dissent, labelling whomever disagrees with your ideology hateful or bigoted or whatever modern synonym is available and shutting down all debate, but when people get disillusioned by your collective attitude and turn en masse to other platforms and ideologies, you are under no obligation to assess your actions and words so far and consider the possibility that you might have been wrong; nope, it MUST be their fault and this only proves that they ARE hateful, bigoted, misogynistic, racist, homophobic, climate-change-denying Bible-thumpers after all and that YOU HAVE BEEN RIGHT ALL ALONG!