#who my friend & I found notoriously intolerable

[incognito-lionbeast]

So I started reading The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System & I have opinions as of Volume 2, Chapter 9. im invested, but at what cost? how did you keep CONSISTENTLY choosing the wrong answer buddy. answer me buddy.

(That being said, I’m still generally enjoying it. this is silly post not to b taken too seriously)

[lxminen]

In my opinion..

I don't think we should be using tags like #fuckisrael #everyone hates Israel, ect.

I am not saying Israel isn't committing genocide.

However; that's how Israelis and don't support this whatsoever get attacked, sent death threats, killed, ect. Like; we saw this with 9/11. (If you aren't American; and / or have no idea what the hell i'm talking about, here's a link to what happened)

al-Qaeda, is a broad-based militant Islamist* organization founded by Osama bin Laden in the late 1980s and became one of the world's most notorious terrorist organizations after carrying out the attacks of September 11, 2001. -Britannica (Source Link)

*(I feel like I should make this connection, Islam is the name of the religion Muslims follow. (Source Link))

Post 9/11: There is a MAJOR surge in Muslim hate crimes; threats towards Muslims and religious intolerance of Muslims.

Here's a graph of what I mean:

I am fearful that if we use these tags so much, it might turn into a similar event of post 9/11. Aren't we trying to learn from mistakes? Not make them again?

I am NOT trying to say that people who are posting with these tags are going to start attacking Israelis, i'm saying that it might turn into a game of telephone; or something similar, like: A texts: 'ISRAEL SUCKS!!' and then B texts the same thing to C, then C starts to deliberately isolate their Israeli friends; or encourage / pressure their friends to isolate theirs.

I am also NOT trying to blame people on Tumblr and say people using these tags are horrible people.. etc.

I feel that we should still be making posts about the situation, but instead of using #fuckIsrael, we should be saying #genocide #Ethnic Cleansing #war crimes #Israel #propaganda. #ThisIsGenocide #Human Rights.

Edit: Image ID

[mittelfrank-divas]

Dance of the Black Heron chapter 2

The next chapter of my Dancer Hubert fic! In which the other Black Eagles have opinions on this situation.

This fic is now up on AO3 for those who prefer reading there!

===

"I think it's a fine idea." Edelgard rounded one of the long tables in the Black Eagles classroom, carrying a stack of tactics textbooks. It was quickly growing dark outside, and every other student had long ago vacated the classrooms, but the pair of them were often found here at this hour by the flickering light of the candles and the dwindling embers of the fireplace.

At first, tidying the classroom had been an easy excuse for them to meet at night without suspicion. It was a perfectly appropriate activity for the head of the class and her attendant to engage in regularly outside of normal class hours, with obvious evidence of their work that they could point to the next morning if anybody asked where they had been.

Now, although better awareness of the guard rotations and lesser-used passages gave them plenty of other ways to slip out after dark, habit still found them here day after day. Hubert could not help but notice the pride that Edelgard took in maintaining the Black Eagles classroom, making sure the chairs were straightened and every student had their required materials ready in the morning. It did not matter that their classmates could easily retrieve their books and quills themselves, or that the room would be equally serviceable if the chairs were left slightly askew or that the floor could endure going unswept for a few days. Edelgard wanted the classroom to be perfect for her Eagles, and so Hubert was all too happy to assist her in that.

He automatically held out his arms for her to deposit the books into and began distributing them before each chair on one side of the room while Edelgard began passing out her own stack on the other side. He scowled down at the books in his arms as he sought out the one with the broken binding, which he always deliberately placed in front of Ferdinand's chair. "I did not expect you to share in our professor's folly."

"I see no folly in it." Edelgard was not quite so deliberate in her distribution, placing each of her own books without checking its state. Hubert doubted that any of the other Black Eagles noticed that the left side of the classroom always received the same books each day (the nicest one went to Bernadetta and their state of decay decreased down to Ferdinand's) while the right side was randomized, with each equally likely to receive the one wrinkled with water stains on one corner. Her egalitarian approach meant she always finished sooner than Hubert, and so she was first to move behind the professor's desk to retrieve the quills and ink pots. "I know you know how to dance, Hubert. I have seen you do it many times."

"Respectfully," Hubert grumbled, "our little bedroom waltzes hardly compare to a competition that will determine the composition of our class. You have seen me run before, but you would not ask me to participate in a marathon."

"Nonsense." Edelgard turned to him, a pot of ink in each hand. "That comparison would only be suitable if I had watched you outrun the entirety of our class. You are good at dancing. You have proper stance, you keep time well..."

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert set his final book down and met her eyes directly. "Did you convince the professor to choose me?"

Edelgard's pale eyebrows rose. "You are cross with me. No, I did not. I merely advised them that you would be a good choice. They were already considering you."

"I am not cross with you, I am…" Hubert sighed, and slouched down to rest his gloved hands on the table. "Alright. I am cross. I wish you'd consulted with me before agreeing to this."

Edelgard never cowered from anger -- his, or any other's. It was one of the many traits that made him admire her. Her pale lavender eyes met his fully. "I apologize. I thought it best if you heard directly from our professor first. It is not as though they can force the decision upon you, after all, can they?"

"No," Hubert admitted with a sigh, finally moving to retrieve the quills and ink alongside her. "They merely trapped me in my own logic. Forced me to admit that I can see no better option."

"Well?" She flicked her white hair back out of her eyes as she shot him a sidelong glance. "Is your logic flawed? Is there any other who we should choose instead?"

Hubert had been asking himself that very question since the moment he exited the professor's room. Dare he give up their only cavalry unit? Their only assassin? Could he ignore his own predictions that Linhardt would shirk whatever responsibility the role would demand of him? "I am beginning to question whether we require a Dancer in our ranks at all."

"Well then, I am certain that Claude von Riegan will make good use of it," Edelgard said crisply as she laid out quills.

Claude von Riegan. Claude von Riegan with somebody under his command who could effectively double the speed of any attacking unit. Hubert could already imagine a number of scenarios that Claude could manifest with such power in his hands, but worse were the ones that he could not imagine.

"Your attempts to bait me are rather transparent, I'm afraid." Even as he said it, Hubert attempted to shrug off the vision of the future Alliance leader darting out of their peripherals, bow at ready.

"A pity," Edelgard sighed, moving toward the professor's desk. She always made a point of organizing their notoriously scatterbrained teacher's class materials at the end of the day. "I had hoped I was being subtle. Transparent though I may be, however, do tell me if my plan has worked."

Hubert prided himself on his schemes, on his ability to out-think his opponents. Unfortunately, the fact that he had honed his skill by practicing with his closest friend meant that same friend knew him all too well, and easily turned those same skills back on him. "Of course it has," he conceded, and moved to stand in front of the professor's desk while Edelgard sat down in the chair across from him. "You know I cannot bear the thought of giving such a calculating opponent an edge such as this. Well spotted as ever, Lady Edelgard."

She pulled a stack of Byleth's disorganized notes to herself, a small smile creeping onto her face at her victory. Under normal circumstances, Hubert lived to see that smile soften her carefully-managed features. In this case, it was difficult to take joy in one more sign that his doom was sealed. Nevertheless, she nodded at him. "Alright, then. If our only goal is simply to keep the Dancer class out of anyone else's hands, the solution is simple. We send someone else to compete in the White Heron Cup, but we will not make use of the certification once we have it."

Hubert crossed his arms, considering her suggestion. It was an easy way out. They could send Dorothea or even Ferdinand to compete without interfering with their long-term plans. Edelgard was showing him a kindness by offering an alternative. The fact that he recognized it for a kindness made loathing for himself churn in the pit of his stomach. For her to settle on a lesser choice simply for his sake was intolerable. "An elegant solution, but a wasteful one. I doubt you would be satisfied with such a plan."

Edelgard sighed. "Of course I wouldn't be. I think a Dancer would be of great benefit to us, and I think you would be an ideal choice."

Hubert shook his head, leaning down to press both hands against the front of the desk. "I simply fail to understand why."

"It is just as you and the professor said. The Dancer must be able to anticipate the movements of the battlefield and turn it to their advantage. When I am at the front of the line, I want someone who knows my tactics and my plans, who can predict exactly what choices I will make, to be at my back setting the stage. It's true that anyone in our class could do the job adequately, but only you could use such a position to seamlessly carry out my plans." Edelgard leaned across the desk, her hand closing around Hubert's wrist, her pale eyes meeting his fiercely. "I would never order you down a path that you found intolerable, Hubert. If this is truly unbearable for you, then we will find another solution. I just wish you could see how much I think you would shine in such a role."

She truly had so much faith in him. Not just to be a Dancer, but to be her Dancer. Someone who could help her achieve her lofty goals. Maybe, if he actually could succeed in winning the certification…

Hubert's hand went to his head, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. "This is foolishness. It is not a test of skill, but of charm. You know that I could manage to hit every step perfectly and the judges will still favor whoever has the most attractive smile."

Edelgard's eyes glinted confidently. "And is that such a bad thing? You know as well as I that charm is a matter of manipulating perceptions." She leaned forward, using her grip on Hubert's arm to pull herself across the desk. At her height, Edelgard practically had to lay across the expanse of the wood surface to lean close to him, but she somehow managed it. "Hubert," she said lowly so none passing by the open door could hear, "when we constructed the Flame Emperor together, remember what you said? That we must create an image that strikes awe into the hearts of all who see him. It will not be you dancing out there. It will be the image we create for you. So let us create that image. Will you permit that?"

An image. A persona, like the Flame Emperor. Hubert could not imagine himself standing before the entire school, hoping to convince them of his appeal with a charisma he did not possess. But thinking of it as simply another mask…

His other hand closed over hers. "If you are behind me, I can try."

***

The evening was still early when he found his way to the ground-level dorms. Light glowed warmly from the open doors and windows of the cafeteria, chatter and laughter filtering down the stone staircase. It was a crisp fall evening, not yet cold enough to keep the students from lingering around the fishing pond or drifting slowly toward their dorms while carrying on their dinner conversations, trying to delay the night of studying ahead. It would not be, therefore, considered terribly untoward for Hubert to be standing outside of Dorothea's chambers at this time. He took a moment to steel himself before knocking sharply on her door.

He highly doubted that he was remotely within the sphere of people who Dorothea hoped would be standing on the other side of her door, yet her smile was dazzling anyway. The songstress knew how to perform even in the most mundane of venues. "Hubie! It's not like you to make social calls. Are you here to scold me for forgetting to use Edie's title again? Or is this about that saucy joke I made yesterday? Was that too much for her delicate royal ears to hear?"

Hubert stifled a sigh, already regretting this conversation. Dorothea's personality was entirely too much for him to face directly like this. Her irreverence around Lady Edelgard had been a point of contention in their first few weeks at the academy, but Edelgard herself enjoyed Dorothea's brash attitude and had told him to let it go. Truth be told, Hubert also took a certain amount of pleasure in watching a commoner breezily ignore social mores the way that Dorothea did, pointedly affixing his fellow nobles with all-too-personal nicknames rather than a deferential title. But it was a spectacle that he preferred to appreciate at a distance, without the full force of the songstress's energy and wit directed at him.

"Nothing so serious as that, I assure you." Hubert stiffly folded his hands behind his back, sifting through his mental notes to recall exactly how he had rehearsed this conversation. Unfortunately Dorothea's chaotic nature had already derailed his plans, leaving him to leaf frantically through his script to work out what to say next. The sound of laughter echoing across the square made him uncomfortably aware of the other students and monastery residents moving around behind him. "I thought perhaps that you should hear it first. The professor has chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

He saw her smile falter a bit, and knew that she was doing the math. If Byleth had chosen her, then surely Byleth would be the one to deliver the news. Still, her voice remained as bright as ever. "Really? That's great news! Who is it?"

Hubert could not stand to look at that fading smile anymore, and his eyes found a particularly fascinating crack in the wall by her door. "You should know that this was not at all an easy choice. It was less a matter of who could succeed in the competition than of who we could afford to remove from another role. The composition of our class is..."

"Hubie," all warmth had drained from her voice now, replaced with a dangerous edge. "If you've come all this way just to soothe my feelings over Ferdie being chosen over me, you can just get it over with."

The very suggestion that Hubert would ever choose Ferdinand von Aegir shocked him into looking at her again. "We need Ferdinand on his horse, loathe as I am to admit that. Just as we need you continuing to study both Reason and Faith, a combination that we otherwise lack." He shifted awkwardly, resisting the urge to either fidget or flee. "I have been over the class roster many times, and unfortunately I see no other way around it. The professor is of the opinion that the only one who can be spared for this role is myself."

A single laugh burst out of Dorothea's mouth before she covered it with both hands. "Oh Hubie! Oh I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's just unexpected."

"I am quite aware of how unexpected it is," Hubert muttered, once again taking tremendous interest in the details of the wall beside her. "Which is precisely why I must request your assistance. There can be no doubt that you are our most gifted dancer. Moreover, you have experience with performing before an audience. I wish to ask for your help in preparing for this competition."

Dorothea stared up at him, cautious skepticism on her face. She did not trust nobles, and he shared in her loathing. Hubert himself nearly forgot sometimes that he would be considered one of them in her eyes. Dorothea may have acted cheerful around her classmates, but Hubert had seen the way she sometimes seemed to be bracing for them to turn on her. She looked like she was bracing for that now. "I'm sorry, did you say you need my help? You, Hubie, need my help."

"That is what I said, yes."

Dorothea snorted. "I'm surprised you aren't asking Ferdie, since he seems so very convinced of his superiority in every realm, including dance."

"I do not entertain that one's foolish ramblings." Hubert smirked as he said it, and was pleased that a smile crept back onto Dorothea's own face. She made clear her feelings on Ferdinand -- loudly, and as often as possible -- and it seemed that he won an ally in her on this front. "As much as it pains me to admit my own failings, I know that you are much more practiced in this arena than myself. If you are willing to assist me in this, I would be grateful."

She granted him that warm smile that she shared so freely with her classmates. "Well with a request like that, how can I refuse? Alright, Hubie. How about we meet on the training grounds tonight?"

Hubert felt his heart rate spike just at the thought of being caught practicing in such a public area. The training grounds were less crowded in the evenings, but there were many students who remained there even late into the night. There would be no hope of privacy in such a place. "Actually, I have somewhere more private in mind, if you'll allow. I'll meet you here at your room after class tomorrow and show you the way."

Her smile twisted itself into a sly grin. "Why Hubie, if you wanted to get me alone, a simple dinner invitation would have sufficed."

Now he did sigh. Truly, she was relentless. "I assure you, I have no such intentions. But if this is your way of requesting an exchange for your services, I will see what I can do about a meal."

"No fun at all," Dorothea sighed back, though he could see that she was still teasing him rather than truly disappointed. "Forget it, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dorothea closed the door, leaving Hubert standing awkwardly outside. He had the rest of the night ahead of him to fret over what awaited him at Dorothea's lessons.

***

Hubert had never before dreaded class. In fact, against all reason, he even sometimes enjoyed it.

That had been an unexpected development. That Hubert would accompany Edelgard to Garreg Mach, the very seat of the Church of Seiros, that he would attend classes alongside the frivolous sons and daughters of nobility, that he would sit in front of some church-approved professor and listen to their tiresome lectures… and he would not hate it. Sometimes he even learned something. Sometimes he even forgot that he was here under false pretenses, that he was only pretending to be a student in order to further Edelgard's aims.

But class had never before felt like such a trap. Never had he so cursed Edelgard's preference for sitting in the very front row, as well as his own decision to accompany her there. Hubert felt that every single pair of eyes in the room must have been on the back of his head. Surely such a thought was irrational, since only Edelgard and Dorothea yet had reason to suspect his distraction when he failed to turn his tactics textbook to the correct page.

Worse, their distractible professor left Hubert to suffer in silence through the entire lecture, carrying on as though his humiliation was not imminent. It was only when Byleth was about to dismiss them for lunch, threatening to draw out the torture even further, that Edelgard came to his rescue. "Professor, I believe you had intended to make an announcement."

Byleth paused, blinking at Edelgard in that dreamy way they always did when they forgot vital information, such as their own plans. "Oh, yes. We've chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

A general murmur of excitement rippled through the classroom. Hubert pointedly closed his book and began organizing his things, trying very hard to ignore the chatter behind him.

"You were wanting to be choosing, weren't you Ferdinand?"

"I assure you, I know nothing about the professor's choice. If they have selected me, this is the first I am hearing of it."

"It's not me, right? You wouldn't pick me just to make fun of me, would you? Oh no! You have, haven't you? Aaaaaaah I don't want to do iiiiiiiiit!"

"Finally!" Caspar's voice rang out over Bernadetta's cries. "Who'd you pick, professor? We've got so many good dancers here, I bet we'll win no matter what!"

Byleth did not waste time on drawing out the suspense with theatrics. "I've chosen Hubert."

The din faded to uneasy silence. Of all the times that Edelgard had urged the Black Eagles to learn the art of being quiet, somehow this was the moment in which the lesson finally took.

"I don't think he's a bad choice at all." Dorothea jumped in to helpfully damn Hubert with faint praise.

"Indeed, if the strategy is to frighten the judges into choosing our house, you could not ask for a better candidate." Linhardt, naturally, chose to wake up from his nap exclusively for the purpose of contributing this jab.

Having run out of anything left to do with his own class materials, Hubert moved on to straightening Edelgard's notes for her. Might as well let his classmates get this out of their system so they could hopefully never speak of this again.

"Hubert's not going to assassinate the judges, is he? Noooo I can't be an accessory to murder!"

"Bernie, nobody's going to assassinate anyone."

"Is this being a contest of violence? I thought it was of dance."

"No, there's no violence. Bernie's just being dramatic."

"Imagine if it was though? Like what if we had to fistfight Alois to win? That would be awesome!"

"But I don't want to fistfight Alois!"

"Bernie, absolutely nobody is asking you to fistfight Alois."

"Well I trust in our professor's decisions." A single voice boomed above all the others. Caspar may have existed in a perpetual state of yelling, but Ferdinand von Aegir projected his voice at all times as though he was in the midst of orating to a crowd. "I am certain that they have good reason to choose Hubert to represent the Black Eagles house, and we should be proud to support him. Why, regardless of whether or not he's had training, with a few weeks, he should--"

"I have, actually." Hubert was already out of his chair and turning to face Ferdinand before his nerves had a chance to catch up with him. The ginger with his all-too-bright smile was staring at Hubert, startled at being interrupted mid-speech. "Which is something you might already know if you ever deigned to dance with those you consider beneath your status, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand's mouth hung agape, his ears turning a satisfying shade of scarlet. "What is that supposed to--"

"Alright!" Edelgard stood, inserting herself between them as she stepped into the center of the classroom. "Honestly, is this any way to behave before a competition? We are supposed to present a united front before the other houses. I expect all of you to give Hubert your full support, just as you would any one of us."

Hubert made a point of avoiding any further eye contact as he exited the classroom. With resounding support such as this from his own class, did he even need rivals to compete with? Perhaps they might send one of Bernadetta's plush toys to compete and save him the trouble.

[strangertheory]

What’s all this confusing jargon?

Heteronorma-what? Comp het? Projection?

This past week I've seen a few different conversations here on Tumblr in which fans clearly demonstrated that they do not understand certain struggles that the queer community deals with, and many fans have been misunderstanding theories involving compulsory heterosexuality and emotional projection as  making a character a "bad person."

Because I've seen this crop up multiple times this week, I wanted to create this post and address misunderstandings while also defining some terms and concepts that some fans might not be familiar with.

For the purposes of this post I'm going to be referencing the Stranger Things fan-theory that Mike is gay, that Mike is participating in compulsory heterosexuality, and that Mike is projecting his feelings for Will onto El. (This theory is one that I've seen garner the most criticism, but I'm sure that there are other queer-coded characters in Stranger Things that fans have argued over as well.)

The majority of this post is dedicated to defining terminology so that fans can better understand queer-coding and queer theory as it applies not only to the Stranger Things fandom but also to any other fandom’s discussions, but I’ll also offer an explanation and summary of one tiny part of the much larger theory that Mike is gay in order to contextualize this discussion a bit.

When fans theorize that Mike is "projecting his feelings" for Will onto El, or suggest that Mike is "pretending" to have feelings for El, some fans get upset and angry. I know and respect very much that these fans are not necessarily angry because they are bothered by the idea that a character in Stranger Things could be gay. Not all rejection of certain theories and popular ships stems from homophobia (although they very often do, and the fandom needs to be more aware of this.) But I understand that because some fans see the idea of a gay character choosing to have a heterosexual relationship as being dishonest and selfish and manipulative, they do not want to see a character that they love and respect (Mike) as knowingly “using” and “lying” to another character that they love and respect (El.)

Let me reassure you that is not at all what this theory represents, and that is not at all the angle that is taken by fans that interpret Mike as participating in comp het. 

In this blogpost I’m going to do my best to explain some terminology that is often used in theories about queer-coded characters and narratives. I’m also going to discuss why queer people that are dealing with comp het, internalized homophobia, and projecting their feelings (knowingly or unknowingly) onto straight relationships are not bad or maliciously dishonest, and they are most often motivated by a desire to do what they believe is best for not only themselves but for everyone in their lives that they care about due to their mistaken beliefs about their feelings.

Internalized homophobia is when an lgbtqa+ person has within their mind negative ideas about homosexuality which impact their judgement and perception of themselves. Internalized homophobia often heavily influences their self-esteem, their decision-making, and it might encourage them to participate in compulsory heterosexuality in order to fit into a prejudiced community. The way in which internalized homophobia affects everyone will be different and it’s a very complex issue. Even lgbtqa+ people who have been “out” for years and that outwardly might seem as though they don’t have any insecurities might still suffer from internalized homophobia caused by the biases and toxic ideas that they’ve been exposed to over the course of their lives.

Compulsory heterosexuality (frequently shortened to the phrase "comp het”)

com·pul·so·ry /kəmˈpəlsərē/ adjective required by law or a rule; obligatory.

When fans of queer-coded pairings discuss that they believe that certain characters are participating in "comp het" they mean that they are behaving in a way that is strongly influenced by their culture's strong focus on heterosexuality, their community's biases against homosexuality, as well as perhaps their own internalized homophobia. Compulsory heterosexuality does not necessarily require that a person is even aware that they are not heterosexual yet: oftentimes, a person might grow up in a household that has never given them any examples of happy queer community. A person may not even know that being lgbtqa+ is an option. As a young person grows older and tries to do what everyone expects of them (ex. dating) they might only then start to realize that they aren't like all of their peers, and their compulsory participation in "what is expected of them" is not working out as they anticipated. This can result in a lot of frustration and confusion when all alternative options have been hidden or stigmatized by their family, friends, and neighbors. Many lgbtqa+ people often end up participating in compulsory heterosexuality before they fully realize that they are queer because their community treats being straight as the only way people can be. They haven’t had the opportunity to consider the existence of alternatives. 

It's important to understand that compulsory heterosexuality is not done out of malice or intended selfishness. The main focus of most people that are trying to be straight is doing what they believe is the "right thing" or the "acceptable thing" in a heteronormative community. There are places in the world that have laws and punishments, often very severe ones, against the queer community. Not all countries are safe for lgbtqa+ people, and historically the US has not been and is still very often unsafe and intolerant even today. And because of strong biases that exist against homosexuality in many cultures: anyone that is trying to be straight does not recognize this behavior as dishonest or manipulative, they see it as something they believe they are expected to do, that they can figure out how to do, or that they believe they can choose in order to be accepted by others. Sometimes they might feel obligated to return the feelings of someone that expresses interest, and they might feel guilty that they don't feel the same way. Other times they might think "well, maybe I just need more practice with learning how to fall in love and be in love!" This is a very common feeling that young people might have when they first start dating. "Maybe I just haven't found the right person!" or "Maybe I'm overthinking things and this is how I'm supposed to feel, and this is love and it's a lot like friendship but with kissing!" People still trying to figure out their feelings or that believe they have to figure out how to be cishet are not "liars" and they are not manipulative or selfish, they're simply people trying to do what they truly believe they are "supposed to do" according to their community's "rules." Many are still in the process of figuring out that they aren't straight in the first place. Many, especially in time periods without the internet, might think that their experience is unusual and unhealthy and that they're alone in their struggle. And many might believe that being straight and being in a heterosexual relationship is the only allowable option available to them, and their behavior represents that.

Heteronormativity is the belief that romantic, marital, and/or sexual relationships between a cis man and a cis woman are ideal, preferred, or "normal" compared to alternatives. A heteronormative person dismisses and ignores the possibility that anyone they meet in their daily lives could be lgbtqa+ and behaves under the assumption that everyone is cishet when the truth is that humanity is infinitely more diverse than that. Heteronormativity causes parents to raise their children assuming they'll be straight and only teaching them about cis men and cis women falling in love and having families rather than offering them a broader perspective on all human experience. So many people that claim to be "allies" to the lgbtqa+ community will often behave and speak as though they assume that most people they meet are straight because deep down they still hold a very strong bias against accepting that a person being queer is just as "natural" as a person being straight. So many people that claim to be “allies” to the lgbtqa+ community will also judge queer people and queer fictional characters differently than they judge their straight and cisgender friends. The Stranger Things fandom is notoriously littered with a few heteronormative fans that only complain about the idea that two middle schoolers might kiss or have a crush on each other (they’re too young!) when it’s the idea of two boys or two girls kissing. Statements such as “they can’t know that they’re gay yet and they can’t have feelings for another boy or another girl yet because they’re too young” are heteronormative because these statements prioritize the false idea that heterosexuality is “natural” and that homosexual feelings cannot arise equally naturally for a young teen as they grow up and as they start having romantic interest in their peers.

Projection is, in simplest terms, taking feelings and directing them onto a new subject that is not the actual source of those feelings. The reasons that people project their emotions can vary. People often project their feelings when they believe at a subconscious level that their feelings are either inappropriate when directed towards the original source OR they feel powerless to do anything about the source of their original feelings and so they try to find a new target to blame their feelings on instead. Projection is one method by which people seek to manage and express their feelings when they are unable to express them directly. Through projection we often seek to avoid confronting the real source, reasons, and issues behind our feelings.

One simple example of emotional projection is how we treat others when we’re having a bad day! Let's say that I had a bad day at work. My boss yelled at me and reminded me that I'd forgotten to do an important task. I'm upset, but I don't tell my boss how I feel and I bottle up those emotions. The second I return home my spouse politely reminds me of something small that I needed to do. Right now: I'm angry. I was unable to yell at my boss because I recognized, either consciously or subconsciously, that this behavior would be unacceptable and that there would be adverse consequences. Now someone telling me what to do at home reminds me of my boss telling me what to do at work, so I explode and yell at my spouse. I have now projected my feelings towards my abusive boss towards my spouse instead even though I'm not really angry at my spouse at all: I'm angry at my boss. In my mind in this moment I see my spouse as being just like my boss at work! My spouse won't understand why I'm treating them this way: they'll think I'm unkind and unreasonable. I might not know why I reacted that way either, but I might know enough to recognize that I've had a long day and work was hard. The truth is: I wish I could yell at my boss, but I can't, and I've been bottling up my anger all day because I wasn't able to express my feelings. I've found a sudden outlet for those feelings that reminded me of the situation in which the feelings started: my spouse telling me I forgot to do something.

When Stranger Things fans speculate that Mike is projecting his feelings for Will onto El they have multiple canon circumstances that might logically support this interpretation of the story. I’ll summarize a few of them, but please keep in mind these are far from the only examples in which Mike might be projecting his feelings. (Both @kaypeace21 and @hawkinsschoolcounselor and many others have written about this interpretation of Mike’s character before. I highly recommend visiting and following their blogs if this subject interests you further.)

The first time we meet El is while Mike is out looking for Will. El enters Mike's life when Will goes missing and while Mike is upset and feeling as though he's "the only one that cares about Will." Mike’s new friend El says she knows where Will is, and by the end of season 1 she helps Mike find Will again! Then yet again in season 2 we see that El returns to Mike's life right when Mike is terrified that Will is being taken over by the Mindflayer. Yet again, Will is in danger and El arrives and she saves Will. We see Mike tell El "I can't lose you again!" when El returns to help save Will, and she reassures Mike "You won't lose me." But this is precisely during a moment in which Mike is absolutely terrified of losing Will who is unconscious in the other room and has been dealing with the Mindflayer. Mike was upset he lost Will in season 1, and then he was upset that El was gone in season 2, and then yet again at the end of season 2 right when Mike is afraid of losing Will again El shows back up in his life and Mike is relieved. But El is emotionally directly associated with how Mike feels when they "save Will" because that is what she has done two seasons in a row. The girl that has been helping Mike find and rescue and save Will is a repeated subject of Mike's affections, and yet he has only known her for a very short amount of time and is otherwise, in many ways, a mysterious stranger. Both Mike’s kiss with El in season 1 and the "I can't lose you again!" line in season 2 are delivered while Mike is in the middle of being terrified of losing Will. Could Mike be projecting his attachment to Will onto this new person in his life because she's there and she's a source of reassurance and hope? Does El subconsciously represent reassurance that Will is going to be okay because whenever she shows up she saves Will? If El is there, then Mike knows that Will is going to be rescued and that he will be okay. That’s a comforting feeling. A happy feeling! Mike knows he feels happy and safe around El, but he might not know why he feels happy and safe with her. Is Mike finding comfort in the thought that Will is going to be okay every time he sees El, rather than finding comfort in any feelings he might have for her? It is, of course, just a theory. But the way  in which Mike experiences (arguably) his strongest romantic impulses towards El while being terrified for Will's safety is fascinating to consider. If you were to ask me whether Mike seemed most romantically affectionate towards El when she showed up to save Will in season 2 or whether he seemed most affectionate towards El while pulling her hands away from his face and breaking away from a kiss in order to sing along to a song that just hit the line "Just a little uncertainty can bring you down" to continue it with a loud voice and yell "And nobody wants to know you now, nobody wants to show you how! So if you're lost and on your own you can never surrender!" then... my vote is that he was the most enchanted when El showed up in season 2 to save Will. But until the show is over and the credits for season 5's final episode have rolled we can, of course, agree to disagree regarding who Mike is "in love with."

The theory that Mike is projecting his feelings for Will onto El is just that: a theory. But it’s not a baseless theory. It is logical to a good number of people and it resonates with many queer fans who have experienced comp het and internalized homophobia while growing up in circumstances similar to Mike’s. Before dismissing this fan-theory I believe it is important that fans recognize the validity of these ideas and the way that they reflect many very real lgbtqa+ experiences even if they disagree or decide that this is not their preferred interpretation of the story. Most dismissals of these kinds of theories that I have read tend to demonstrate a certain level of ignorance towards lgbtqa+ experiences and reinforce heteronormative worldviews.

However. To return to my original point!

Hypothetically, Mike would not be a "bad person" for trying to date El and trying to love El even if he was aware that he's gay. He'd simply be Mike, as he always has been: the paladin that just wants to do the "right thing" and do what he believes his friends want him to do. He would see loving El as what he is supposed to do and what he thinks she wants and deserves.

I hope that my earlier explanations in this blogpost regarding what comp het, heteronormativity, internalized homophobia, and emotional projection are will help fans respect that people and characters that do these things are not bad, selfish people and they are not malicious or dishonest. They are seeking to be what they believe is "good." Homophobia exists. It's a real problem. And it impacts every single decision that lgbtqa+ people make when they're growing up in a conservative, heteronormative community. When fans speculate that certain characters are lgbtqa+ : they understand that queer characters would not see their compulsory heterosexuality as being unfair to their love interests. They would see their behavior and words as what their love interest wants and what they think they need to want for themselves, too. They're trying to do what they believe is right and to make other people happy. There is nothing evil in that intention. There is nothing selfish in that intention. However, it is true that everyone will be happiest when they are able to safely embrace who they are and choose to be honest with their loved ones without any judgement or prejudice. That is one of many reasons why homophobia and transphobia and acephobia are such destructive forces in society.

[vanaera]

Daffodil Rings

Synopsis | In a world where the red-string-of-fate tale has been proven true by science, each scientific journal has been up to date with every new-found “soulmate system,” and everyone out there has been in their never-ending search for their soulmates, there stands one bug in the system: You. You don’t believe in the absoluteness of the soulmate phenomenon, nor the too-perfect-to-work-out soulmate systems, arguing each and every bit of them are for everyone but you. With 17 years of defiance against such natural occurrence, you did not expect you will be literally swept off your feet by your soulmate on some ordinary Thursday into the wildest night of your life. Everything only goes downhill when you learn that “soulmate” of yours happens to be Park Jimin, the singer from the worldwide famous boy group BTS, you have embarrassingly crushed on for six years.

Characters | idol!Jimin x law student, part-time florist!you (soulmate au proven by science; strangers to lovers trope)

Genres | Fluff, angst, implied smut

Wordcount | 22.3k (I’m sorry)

Playlist | I was Made for Loving You by Tori Kelly ft. Ed Sheeran

Cross posted on | AO3

A/N | Hi everyone! Friendly reminder that everything in this story is fictional and has no intended connection with actual individuals and groups involved in this story. I just felt the need to remind you all ;)  

                 You always loved arguing. Whether it be about politics, philosophy, human rights issues, science advances, or if pineapples really do belong in pizza (which you agree with) – the topic doesn’t matter because you found it always necessary to go against the current. For check and balance, you insist. You don’t want to admit that “hobby” of yours was almost pathological.

               You tell people it started from a time you were five and went around your neighborhood. Your mother told you to get outside your introverted shell and talk with the kids of your age. However, instead of striking friendships, you started arguments, arguing person after person on the littlest of things–from the notion that ocean sunfishes are the stupidest animals to exist, to the fallacy behind ‘blood is thicker than water’.  Unlike your mother’s expectations, you earned angry snarls and glares to the point she was almost bothered by the stinging stares of anyone who will pass by your house. “Almost” is the keyword, because as soon as local debates were announced in your community centers, you became the most sought-out consultant of every single contestant. Times now seemed short of instances people can prove what they’re ideas are worth. Anyway, your mother forbade you to enter the contest because you were too young to join at that time (“Goodness, you’re just five!”). And because Mrs. Thornbow, your third grade English teacher and adviser, was not impressed of your carefree negligence of school rules, especially regarding proper attires. You guessed your teacher warned your mother of letting you participate in debates in your notorious black slacks, the one you always wear in school instead of your red plaid skirt, in case you get too “out of hand” again in school.

               Unlike the story you told everyone, the real origin of your almost-sick hobby has to do with the red string of fate. The invisible, indestructible string created by fate which ties two people together, two soulmates, for the rest of their lives. Generations upon generations were expecting to be paired with a person made by the heavens just for them. Even more, most relationships, marriages, and families are the fruits of this system. Thus, it will be unnatural for anyone to go against such destiny.

                The soulmate phenomenon was an inexplicable truth and people explained such phenomenon through the myth of these red strings, until 1986 when Professor Vandikes and Doctor Weber discovered biological evidences of the soulmate phenomenon. The two found extraneous neural interconnections of two “soulmates” through neuroimaging. Vandikes and Weber discovered that thoughts can be transmitted back and forth between the soulmates because of their identically coordinated neural activities. Even more, the soulmates simultaneously produced similar accurate results even when they’re living in two different countries.

               As soon as Vandikes and Weber’s study hit the news, everyone was automatically convinced in this soulmate science. It even prompted researchers to investigate every single existing soulmate systems. No wonder everyone accepted the soulmate phenomenon as an unarguable truth, an unbreakable tradition, and even as absurd as a purpose in life. Of course, everyone except you.    

               You didn’t believe in fate dictating who you should love when you already have enough of the society telling you who you should be. Science has proven fate is capable of planning someone to be awfully compatible with you but, it does not ensure it will always work.  Your existence was enough of a proof.

               You do not have any existing soulmate system countl. There is no “soulname” on your wrist, a permanent, inborn tattoo of the name of your soulmate, the very soulmate system your mother and father has. You do not feel any kind of “soulbond,” the emotional transparency system between two soulmates, nor do you see any “soul-art” decorating your body, a system of identical, dull tattoos, which only turn vibrant at the touch of a soulmate. You already see the world in color since you were born, unlike your playmate Jung Seolhee. She said she has “soul-vision” as her soulmate system that’s why she sees the world in black and white until her soulmate comes and enters her field of vision. And, you most definitely do not have any thoughts, other than yours, rambling in your mind as you grow up unlike what Vandikes and Weber claim in the rare soulmate system, “soul connection”.

               In short, the soulmate phenomenon did not include you into their equation. Hence, at sixteen, you’re adamant about your disagreement with this red-string-of-fate bullshit–a sentiment you nurtured since you’re five–when everyone of your age has already set out to travel the world to find their soulmates. You decided you won’t base your life on what fate has dictated.  You will create your own path, your own life, and your own destiny. Cures for numerous illnesses have been discovered yet their effectivity for every single person are not identically applicable. The soulmate phenomenon excluded you and it most probably happened so because it’s not for you.

               You love arguing, most especially when it comes to the soulmate phenomenon. Your 17-year-defiance is enough of a solid proof and such experience warranted you enough skills not only to graduate college as the top of the class, but also to pursue law school. You just didn’t imagine your longest duration of arguing will not be against a competent lawyer inside the court, but against a stranger you met in a hole-in-the-wall bar, who unknowingly becomes your greatest misfortune of your night.

               It all started at ten o’clock, fifth of September 2019, in Marti’s Hub, a small bar you always frequent when you’re in need of intoxicating liquids. You never thought anything aberrant will happen as two hours prior, you were just mourning over the disappointing results of your Law 114 essay with some drinks with your bestfriend Lucy.

               “C’mon, Y/N, let’s dance! Stop being such a party pooper!” you feel Lucy’s insistent pull on the sleeve of your jacket and you glared at her before putting your drink down on the table.

               Actually, two hours prior to that dreadful ten o’clock, you were mulling over your Law 114 essay while Lucy is mulling about the probability of her soulmate appearing in the bar. And as much as you totally love arguing, there is only one exception to your uncontrollable hobby: you hate doing it with your bestfriend.

               Lucy Kim has been with you since you’re an intolerable ten-year-old in elementary and for the longest time your friendship lasted, it isn’t hard to tell the girl was a sensitive bunch. You remember her fat ugly tears in senior high when Peter Lee, the local asshole, told her her braids look dumb. Like every other friends, you’ve had fights here and there. Everytime you argued with her, you hated yourself a bit for making her feel bad and you feel much worse when you have to apologize and see her tear-streaked face. It’s ironic how you’re this soft for Lucy when you didn’t bat a damn eyelash at your mother whenever she complains you’re the frequent source of her headaches. In your defense, Lucy understood your anomalous hobby as your second nature far better than your mother could.

               However for tonight, you’re gonna cross the line and disregard the exception you reserved for your bestfriend.

               “Lucy, I told you I came here to drink. Not dance.” You picked the lime on the plate and took a bite.  Your fingers enclose firmly on your glass before your friend could attempt to take you away again. “Plus, I just agreed to tag you along because you told me you want to cry over your fruitless job hunt. I did not agree to accompany you to hunt for your soulmate tonight, which is what you’re doing right now.” You look pointedly at her.

               “Well,” Lucy drawls, rubbing her arm, “you can’t blame me. I’ve already searched our entire neighborhood, my hometown, and even my old university and still I can barely see any Michael Hudson coming my way.” Your eyes caught how she grazes her fingers on the soulname marked on her right wrist. You tried to sympathize with her but still-

               “That does not justify why you’re asking me to accompany you to the dance floor.”

               Your remark is returned with a scathing look from your friend. “Are you not listening to me? I told you I already searched the entire city! And you’ve always accompanied me in every single soulmate hunt! Plus, you didn’t have any qualms yesterday when you and I started to search in nightclubs. It won’t hurt for another try tonight.” You turn away, silent in the truth of what she said. Lucy huffs, “Also, a Michael Hudson sounds someone that usually goes to nightclubs.”

               “It does not,” you mutter, taking another swig from your drink.

               “Uh yeah?” Lucy’s frown deepens, eyes turning into slits as she glares at you like you’re an imbecile. Hypothetically, you are one based on your non-impressive streak in your law essays but that’s beside the incredulity of the things your bestfriend is spouting. Whether she understood the disinterest painted in your whole face or not, she continues on, “I already met lots of Michael’s yesterday and I just met two ‘bout 20 minutes ago. My Michael Hudson may actually be here.”

               You placed down your drink on the bar to stare at your friend. “Lucy, your argument is a false causation. Look,” you sigh, “a bar is not an ideal place to find true love. In this generation, it is more likely you’ll meet an asshole Michael in here instead of your prince charming Michael.” You grimace but you continue on, “Your Michael Hudson may be having some coffee right now in a sophisticated café while some ‘Michael’ here turns out to be a jerk who just wants to get into your pants. Why don’t we just go home, yeah? I’m already finished with my drink and I don’t want to drag your drunk ass back to your home again.”

               “Y/N, you don’t understand,” Lucy groans. “I feel he’s here right now. I can’t just go up and leave without trying. My guts are telling me to stay. It’s a soulmate thing!” You scrunch your face in a disgusted cringe. Lucy narrows her eyes. “See? You’re just saying these stuff because of your prejudice against the soulmate phenomenon.”

               “It’s not a prejudice. What I believe is true–”

               “Doesn’t matter. Look,” Lucy sighs, “If you want to go home, you can go. I’ll stay here and take my chances.” She doesn’t wait for your reply and turns around to head for the dance floor.

               A heavy rock settles on your chest. You don’t like arguing with your bestfriend especially when it comes to this soulmate thing where your views are in absolute disagreement with hers. You don’t like to come off as a bitter, unsupportive friend who ruins everyone’s mood with their cynicism. But sometimes, you can’t help but say a thing or two to wake Lucy up from her fantasies. After toxic relationships with already three Michael Hudsons in your university, you figured Lucy is annoyingly naïve for outright jumping in a relationship with anyone who has the same name as the words inked on her wrist.  You’ve already picked up broken piece after broken piece of herself from relationships after relationships, helping her stand on her feet again and again. You’ve always been by her side to not let her stay far too up in the clouds, balancing her happy-go-lucky spirit with your boring seriousness to help her grounded to reality. That’s why you can’t ignore the thorns pricking your chest when she dismisses your advice so easily as if she never learned anything from her hopeless romance just a week ago.

               You bite your lip and decide to have some soda. You’re not yet leaving but you most definitely won’t wait for her to go home with you. You just have to soften the heavy walls building on your chest so you won’t sleep tonight crying. You hate doing that.

               Another glass of soda and a plate of lime later, ten minutes have passed with just you indulging on a combo you know will be frowned upon by other bar patrons. Ten minutes of doing just that is also enough for you to notice the man in a navy button-down by your left was now a little too close to you. You saw him seated on the far left of the bar, about three feet from you prior to your argument with Lucy. He was ducked on the table, shoulders hunched, which guaranteed you no opportunity to assess his face before. Now, he’s by your side, elbow brushing against your jacket and back straightened enough to see a cringe-worthy smile he’s sending your way. You don’t manage to make out his whole face though because his disheveled brown locks were covering about half of his face. You take your focus back on your plate. Your grasp on your glass tightens. There’s no need to panic. Maybe the stranger transferred seats because your spot has closer proximity to the shelves where the bartender is situated. Maybe he’s sober and you’re just making this whole situation blow out of proportion in your head. Maybe–

               “Hi, doll. You seem tense. Wanna come over to my place to loosen up?” His breath against the shell of your ear makes the hair on your neck rise. Your shoulders stiffen and you gulp. You could feel a ghost of a hand looming on the exposed skin from your ripped jeans. Warning bells wail in your head.

               “I’m not interested,” you mutter between gritted teeth. You don’t look his way as you swat his hand away that was about to rest on your knee. You don’t want to make a scene when you’re about to finish your drink and leave this hole of a bar. You’ve had enough drama for the night already.

               However, the man seems to turn deaf because he smiles at you again. “Oh, don’t play hard to get now, doll. I know you want it. You’ve been staring at me earlier.” His alcohol-stained breath fans against your face and despite what you said earlier, he places his hand on your knee, grazes your clothed skin, and then gropes the swell of your thigh.

               Motherfucking hell–

               “Hey, man, can you please take your hands off my girl.”

               A voice from another stranger blares behind you and you freeze in your spot. What the fuck, now you have another gross man to deal with?! You grunt in annoyance and whipped your head to the side to finally yell the fuck out to these creeps. Social conventions be damned. You’re gonna make a scene.  However, the man behind you holds you on the curve of your shoulders, not too tight to hurt yet not loose enough for you to turn in your seat. You furrow your brows, bewildered. You lean away slightly to get a glimpse of this man’s face but it didn’t do much because his bleached blonde fringe is almost covering his eyes and a midnight black mask was pulled over the lower half of his face. Now you’re just terribly confused. Is he a wanted criminal to cover up almost majority of his face or is he severely ill with something much worse than the common cold? You don’t know whether to trust this man or be wary of him.

               “I don’t know man,” the drunk creep slurs, hand still poised too comfortably on your thigh. You wriggle in your seat but the man keeps his hold on you firm.  The stranger smirks at you, then to the stranger behind you. “From what I know, this girl is my chic. Go find your own, dickhead.”

               What the absolute fucking shit–You found your rage already growing the best of you and you swat his hand repeatedly but the man grips your thigh even tighter. You open your mouth to scream at the the drunk out of mixed pain, anger, and frustration–but the guy behind your back beats you to it again.

               “Look, man. Take your fucking hands off my girl before I call the cops. She’s my soulmate.”

               At the mention of ‘soulmate,’ the drunk man lets go of your thigh as if his hands were burned. He raises both arms to show he’s not touching any part of you anymore and before you could say something back at him–to redeem yourself and at least roast him into his next life–the guy behind you has already grabbed you by your shoulders, taking you in tow as he walks in fast, short steps towards the exit of the bar.

               The chilling wind of September slaps you in the face and even if you’re still shaken up from the whole deal earlier, you still have your brain on your head to make out the dark interior of the semi-vacant parking lot of the bar. Another set of warning bells blare inside your mind and you thrash your arms around, never caring who you’ll hit or if you’ll be hit, just to break free from the hold of the stranger. You’re not going to get kidnapped after being just indecently hitted on! The man instantly lets you go but it doesn’t put him in any good light for you not to turn around and raise an accusatory finger at him.

               “YOU! Just who do you think you are to hold and take me out here?! Who–”

               The man pulls down his black mask and immediately, words die in your throat.  It’s his drooped eyelids and warm brown eyes that hits you first, then it’s the small slope of his nose and the soft curves of his full, pink lips. Your eyes fleet toward the side of his face and goddamn, the long silver earrings dangling on his pierced ears were the same ones you were ogling at an online article you were reading yesterday.

               Your eyes widen and your jaw falls open in shock. “You-you-you’re–”

               Some random stranger was grabbing you by the shoulders earlier and now in front of you is fucking Park Jimin. Park Jimin, vocalist and dancer of BTS, the biggest boy band in the world who sang tracks upon tracks that earned the greatest number of music show awards in history. Park Jimin, member of BTS who performs in sold-out concerts in countless stadiums around the world. Park Jimin, the famed contemporary dancer from Busan, the beautiful man whose full lips and gentle eyes you’ve continuously written about in countless fanfictions since you started stanning BTS. Park Jimin, the person who may or maybe not have been your ultimate celebrity crush and the object of your both innocent and not-so-innocent fantasies for six years now. Goddamn, is he Park Jimin, the boy you straightaway took a liking to ever since you saw him in his cringe-worthy snapback and No More Dream black jersey ensemble in BTS’ 2013 debut music video.

               Your jaw twitches. “Oh my–Oh my God. You-you–”

               “Wait, don’t panic!” Jimin reaches for your trembling fingers and then you feel it–the explosion. Blinding silvery fireworks seem to go off behind your eyes as hot white combustions fill your chest  for a millisecond before their aftereffects register in a series of numbing kaleidoscope of feelings running hot and wild. Your body is tingling, your chest is burning, and searing pain is engraving its way down your arm from where the man touched you. You immediately pull up the sleeves of your jacket and there you see it–tens, no, hundreds of vibrant, yellow daffodils growing an inked garden in astounding speed from a bloom that has looped around your left ring finger. The blooms spread towards your elbow, creeping even further up to your chest where you can see a bud already peeking out on the skin exposed from your low-cut white tee. Your mouth remains open in shock. You clasp your right hand on your newly-tattooed left arm only for you to mumble a faint “oh my god” when you see your right hand–and right arm–also inked with the same yellow flowers.

               Still hunched over, your eyes fleet towards the stranger–towards Park Jimin, and it was only then you manage to let out audible words again. “You’re-you’re–”

               “–your soulmate.”

               “–Park, Jimin.”

               Jimin smiles, “Oh, you know me already. This wasn’t so hard as I thought.”

               You don’t register what he said, still caught up on the instant sleeves you are now sporting and the outlandish word the man in front of you spouted. “My soulmate,” you trail off, voice softening into a little above a whisper, “my–my soulmate. Oh my god.”

               Unaware of the war going on in your mind, Jimin chuckles. “Yeah, I’m your soulmate. I already know. You don’t have to repeat it again and again. It’s true–”

               “Out of all people, why you?!”

               Jimin’s face falls. “Why? What’s wrong with me?”

               “I–you–ugh!” you throw your hands up and cover your face in hopeless dismay.

               Jimin is more confused than he has ever been in his whole life. “Hey, what do you mean? What’s wrong with me?”

               Your eyes peek out from your hands and you see the distance Jimin has closed between the two of you as now his beautiful, perfect face is practically shoved in front of you. A gunfire inside your head resounds and you blow up. “You! What’s wrong is that you’re Park Jimin! Manggae of BTS who sing in sold out concerts in every goddamn country and the youngest recipients of the Order of the Cultural Merit from South Korea and are now the biggest boyvband in the world!” You huff out, breathless. And then you pale. Oh my god, did you just word-vomited–

               “I didn’t know you know me that well,” Jimin giggles. “That’s great! We’re off to a good start!”

               Confusion flickers in your eyes for only a second before it turns into aggravation. “Why is this not bothering you?! You’re an idol!”

               Jimin nods, “Yeah, I’m an idol. And I’m also your soulmate.” He takes a step toward you and you take one back. Seeing the apprehension in your tensed form, he doesn’t push further and instead opts to place his hands in the pockets of his ink black leather jacket. “Don’t you know why I came just in time before that drunk jerk even tried to further push his sick plan?”

               You don’t answer him, still shaken up from everything that’s suddenly happening.

               Jimin just smiles. “I felt you’re near and you’re distressed and anxious. Soulbond, as people say. I went with my gut feeling and I proved it true when I saw you at the bar with that man. It’s a soulmate thing. And oh, I also have this.” Jimin pulls up his sleeve and raises his left hand, flashing you his ring finger inked with a daffodil looped around it just as yours. His tattoo didn’t spread into a sleeve, hinted by the clear skin peeking from the seams of his leather jacket toward the rest of his hand. But still, his inked ring is undeniably a daffodil bloom just like yours. Jimin smirks, “I told you, I’m your soulmate.

               You could hear your heart pulsing loud against your ears and you could still feel your veins thrumming with the aftershocks of the explosions of stuff you don’t want to label anything that is already connected to the grinning boy in front of you. You open your mouth only for you to close it again. You cannot deny his statement when two full sleeves of tattooed flowers bloomed right in front both of your eyes. He’s your soulmate and that’s undeniable. However, a different chaos brews in your mind again when you remember that this man in front of you was very much the celebrity you have fawned over for the entire latter six years of your life. You must have weirded him out already when you blurted out the achievements of his group earlier. You cannot let yourself further creep him out by telling him you’ve always raved about him, dare even adored him way, way back then before this very night. Sure, you’ve never believed in this soulmate thing for 17 years of your life but it doesn’t mean you didn’t know about love nor experienced it. Your three ex-crushes under your belt and your six-long stable years of intense crushing on this boy in front of you (that even prompted you to write cheesy romance and dirty filth about him in your still-very-alive tumblr writing account) are enough to color your single-as-fuck-since-you-were-born life with enough joy and pain. But anyway, you can’t let him know everything about this. It’s too embarrassing. It will definitely make him run for the hills just like your three ex-crushes.

                You wouldn’t have to do all of this hassle in the first fucking place if Park Jimin is not your fucking soulmate. Goddamn it, you didn’t even imagine in your whole life you will actually fucking say that ridiculous “s” word.

               Frowning again, you storm off.

               Jimin laughs and joins you in your furious steps outside the parking lot.  

***

                Unlike your initial plan of running away, you didn’t know you will actually stay with Jimin into the night as he rambles about future date plans.

               Half past ten, the two of you are seated in Aunt Marie’s, a 24/7 retro-themed diner you frequent every finals week for late night dinners. Massive cheeseburgers are on your plates and Jimin is seated across you, sporting the mask you have seen on him earlier.

               You drop your utensils and sigh. “See? This won’t work. How the hell will we date if your face is always covered with that?”

               “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about dating me.” Jimin’s eyes sparkle as he sets his elbow on the table, cupping his face. “I’m liking this fast pace so far.”

               You didn’t know this man can easily evade your question by getting sidetracked like a pesky toddler. You purse your lips, unamused. “I’m not thinking about dating you. I’m just laying out a general probability for anyone who will date you. Don’t get ahead so fast, you don’t even know me.”

               “You know me.” Jimin shrugs. “At least that’s a headstart.” You glare at him and he laughs. Jimin continues, “We have lots of time to know each other. That’s why we’re here.”

               “Correction, we’re here because you told me you’re starving and this is the only near place I know that serves good food this late in the night.”

               “Which means we get to know each other,” Jimin repeats, smile turning into a grin. “I could have brought us to a place I know but you insisted going here, hence I learn tonight that you like eating at Aunt Marie’s.          Therefore, we are here to eat and also learn about each other. It is inevitable.” You sigh in defeat and Jimin smirks at his victory. “Also, I can eat, look.” He slices his burger, pulls down his mask and shoves a piece in his mouth, and then pulls up his mask on again. You can’t see his teasing smile but you could tell he’s already giggling because his cheeks grow rounder, making his eyes turn into crescent moons. Slicing another piece, Jimin says, “So, can I know more about you, Y/N?”

               Your mouth opens again like a blubbering fish. “Wait, how did you know my name? I haven’t told you my name yet.”

               For a second, you see his eyes widen but it passes like a blur when you find yourself starting to like the mischievous glint shining in his warm eyes. Jimin shrugs and answers, “It’s a soulmate thing.”

               You cringe and Jimin chortles. Okay, you take it back. You don’t like the mischievous glint if he does that while saying that ridiculous “s” word.  When his snickers die down, Jimin repeats his question, “So, can I now know more about you, Y/N?”

               You  dab your napkin on your lips and sigh for the nth time. “Well, everything about me is as plain as plain Jane can be. Name’s Y/N L/N, only child from a middle-class family. I had a quite nice childhood, playing here and there, making many…friends.” You can’t help but cringe at the word, quite unsure if you could ever tell your neighbors who consulted you during community debates were your friends. You want to make a good impression even if you weren’t still sold into this soulmate phenomenon. Unlike back then, you weren’t too fond of people seeing you less of what you are now. You pushed on, “Until middle school came and I learned how friendships work only if everyone gets to free-ride on projects and you carry the whole group.”

               Jimin snorts, “Who hurt you, Y/N?”

               “That asshole’s name is Kim Yeonjun. I still remember the cookie he stole from my lunchbox. Never gonna forgive him.” Your serious front breaks out into snickers and Jimin follows suit. “Anyway, I didn’t know my life will get more boring until high school came and our teachers taught us in detail about Vandikes and Weber’s soulmate science–”

               “Wait, this soulmate thing has a science behind it?” Jimin looks at you, eyes round.

               “Well, yeah,” you reply, brows scrunched. “Your teachers didn’t tell you about them? It was like the only thing any kid will actually remember from studying next to reading and writing.”

               “I don’t remember anything about such science. I studied in a performing arts school in Busan.”

               You look at him incredulous, “Impossible! It’s more likely you’ll know about the soulmate science before you even learn how to read. Parents already start the red string of fate bullshit as soon as their kid starts to speak gibberish. It’s impossible to leave out anyone from the soulmate science since everyone was raving about it–teens, adults, and even kids.”

               “Do you rave about it?”

               The furrows on your forehead deepen. “What? No!”

               “Well, that’s not everyone,” Jimin leans on his seat. “So, people like me who’ve never heard of such science are justified.”

               “Touché” you agree, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll get away without learning at least a two or thing about it because teachers start to teach soulmate science in basic sciences at the end of middle school.” You lean forward, eyes challenging his. “And everyone studies basic sciences in middle school. Heck, you even mentioned soulbond earlier. You’re just probably asleep when your teacher taught it in class.”

               “Okay, I surrender my fight,” Jimin mutters and you laugh.

               “So long story short, Vandikes and Weber first discovered  the biological proof of the soulmate phenomenon. They show how neural interconnections of two soulmates transmit info to each other at the same time even when they’re in two different countries. Which then means the soul connection and all other soulmate systems are scientifically accepted as a truth now than just some folklore.”

               “Wait, what’s the soul connection?”

               “It’s the soulmate system where two soulmates get to read or hear each other’s thoughts. It’s the phenomenon Vandikes and Weber witnessed while formulating their biological proof. Also, it’s rare. Only five couples were recorded to have that system. One of them was the participants of Vandikes and Weber’s study.”

               Jimin hums and you continue with your story, “Anyway, I was surrounded by screaming teenagers desperately looking for their soulmates and all that cringey stuff while I busy myself with studies because that’s the only thing I’m good at.”

               “And you’re busy loving pre-debut BTS.”

               You choke on your burger, eyes wide before you glare at him. How did he know? The guilt on your face must be evident because Jimin starts breaks into a laughing fit that other people (a couple of nightowl teens and couples) look at your way. In your defense, 2013 you didn’t know any better and just spent hours googling BTS and buying posters with each members’ faces on them (with always an extra poster of Jimin’s solo picture everytime you buy a bundle) instead of getting a social life. At least 2013 you were smart enough to realize you’re broke and you can’t afford to buy albums yet when you’re already struggling just to get your hands on required textbooks your teachers assign. You maintain your pointed look at him, refusing to admit to his very much true statement. You don’t want him to know even when the proof is right in your home–the posters you collected for three years, rolled up and still tucked in the corner of your closet. You never found it in yourself to dispose them even after every annual promise to throw them away.

               Jimin sniggers before he cues for you to continue on. “Sorry, it wasn’t funny.”

               “Anyway,” you stuff your face with the last piece of your burger and swallowed it, “I got high honors and got into my dream college. I realized next to studying, I was good at arguing–

               “–so true–”

               “–so I decided to go into law school.” You send Jimin another glare for his (very true) remark and he smiles. “So here I am now into my first year in law school, flunking every essay, and currently worth minimum wage.”

                 Jimin nods in interest, “Where do you work?”

               “Oh gee, I didn’t know you’re into asking occupations of your date like every other cliche dates.”

               You see Jimin’s eyes spark in interest and you regret what you just blurted out. “Oh, so you do see this as a date.”

               “Nooo,” you groan, heat already creeping up on your cheeks, almost like a wildfire. What the hell is happening to you? You always know how to control your word vomit; you’re never impulsive when it comes to speaking out. You’re a law student for Christ’s sake!

               “Don’t worry, I also see this as a date.” You could feel Jimin’s stare linger on your warm cheeks. You snug deeper into your jacket, wishing for the ground to break open and eat you up. Instead of further teasing you, Jimin repeats his question. “So, where do you work?”

               “At Petal Hill,” you mumble. ��“It’s a flowershop two blocks away from my flat.”

               “Oh, a flowershop. Then, you must probably be knowledgeable of a lot of flowers.”

               “Yeah” you answer, a smile instantly tugging on your lips. “I get to recommend the best bouquets and sets to my customers, not to mention I have great grasp on the flower language to help them pick flowers they want to convey their messages through.”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah! I mean, I get to understand your confusing I Need You and Run music videos just with the two flowers used alone,” you blurt, thinking fondly of your Tumblr text-post, the only one that got you over 300 notes, where you wrote flower theories about BTS’ music videos. However, the moment you see Jimin gawking at what you said, it’s too late to undo what’s already let out in the open air.

               “Really? Oh my god, I never even knew the meaning behind those flowers. The directors just tell us to sit here, hold this or that, and do sad-emo-boi hours.”

               You stifle a giggle but it comes out unsuccessful when you break out into a huge grin, “You– what?”

               “Don’t get me wrong,” Jimin laughs, “We actually knew the plot of the music videos and internalized the characters assigned to us. But really, I never knew the flowers alone are a huge hint to the whole story.”

               “Well, my time to shine has finally arrived,” you grin, finding the need to stretch out your arms comically like how Tom does when he’s smug about catching Jerry. “The most iconic flower you guys used again and again is the white lily. Although the flower means rebirth, royalty, and purity with its delicate yet grand petals, they are often associated with funerals. White lilies symbolize the restored innocence the departed soul receives after death. That’s why the moment the music video flashes Seokjin’s character spreading six lily petals on the floor, I already knew either all your six characters or Seokjin’s, will die, before the video even reached to your guys’…sad-emo-boi hours.” Jimin nods in interest and you continue, “The Japanese version of the music video for I Need You was a large give-away since the large masses of flowers surrounding Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook’s characters resemble like the clump of flowers thrown at a coffin being buried.” You gulp, “Anyway, going to the lighter side because I don’t want to dwell on such grim topics, the second flower you guys used that caught my eye was the blue rose.”

               “Oh yeah, that one!” Jimin eyes glimmer in recognition. “It was the only flower we used in the Run music video. What’s its meaning?”

               “Impossible love.” You said, lips forming a thin line. “Blue roses don’t occur in nature because roses do not have the specific gene to produce such color. Instead, they are made by placing blue dye into the bark of the roses’ roots. Since it’s impossible to produce blue roses naturally without artificial means, these roses mean impossible love. So when the video flashes the blue rose in the background of Yoongi and Jungkook’s characters fighting, it can be said their familial love for each other, as they were depicted like brothers in the videos, will be unable to mend the wreckage of their characters.”                

               “Wow, I didn’t know it’s possible to reach to such accurate perception with the flowers alone.”

               “Then are my theories true?” You lean forward.

               “Yeah, on Jungkook and Yoongi’s characters being brothers and their strained familial bond. Also with the connotation of the lilies, although,” Jimin leans forward, too, smirking, “I wouldn’t reveal to you who really died or didn’t in the music videos.”

               You scoff. “Wow, such torture. You’ve been keeping the fans in the shadows about the story far too long.”

               “Not my choice, blame Big Hit. The concept team just tells us anyway the plot when we have to shoot them so you can say I’m also in the dark” Jimin shrugs. “Also, I want to keep you on your toes, making theories and analyses. They interest me.  How did you easily connect the dots?”

               “I’m a part-time florist. And, I took English literature as my undergraduate study. The plot analyses and the story critiques we did really grew in me.”

               “Oh wow,” Jimin gasps, leaning back. “My god, I didn’t know you were so out of my league!”

               “What?” Out of his league? Is he fucking crazy? He’s the one across you who’s got millions of followers, followed everywhere by the media, known and loved in every country, not to mention, worth of millions of dollars. And you’re here, who’s got millions of bills to pay, followed by countless work and university deadlines, barely spared a glance from the people in your university and work, and you hate to mention again, worth minimum wage. Hell, you could tell Jimin’s face is glowingly beautiful even with his mask pulled on while you’re here, probably sporting a full oily face look. By all blatant circumstances, he’s the one who’s out of your league.

               At the sight of your frown, Jimin’s hands wave in front of you, trying to dismiss any misunderstanding. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just–I didn’t know you’re such an intellectual. You read lots of books and do analyses and you’re so damn good in arguing. You always get me convinced. I haven’t done anything yet in our date but gawk and say ‘wow’ like a kid. I don’t…want to look stupid in front of you.”

               “You’re not.”

               “Huh?”

               You clear your throat. “You’re not stupid. And no, you didn’t just ‘gawk and say wow’ at me. You did a good job arguing with me earlier…about the ‘date.’ And that takes a lot because it looks like you’re having fun doing this friendly debate with me when people curse me for being so adamant in arguments.”

               “Why would they curse you? There’s nothing wrong in fighting for what you think is right.”

               You shrug, “They got nothing substantial to say so they resort to shaming you for what you know. Sick way of lifting yourself above others.  Anyway, why don’t you fire me some flower questions you have in mind? I’m in the mood to go all out in my flower-nerdiness today.”

               “Okay, so…what do you think is the best flower to give for your friends?”

               “Pink tulips are automatic to-gos. They mean ‘I care for you’ and also ‘good wishes’ so they’re also perfect for joyful gatherings. Pear blossoms also do the trick as they mean lasting friendship.” You glance upwards and hum before you return your eyes to Jimin, excitement thrumming in your nerves, “Oh, and Arborvitaes may not be popular but they’re the perfect flowers to give to a friend if you want to have ‘everlasting friendship.’”

               “Hmm, then what about the best one to give to your parents?”

               “Flowers of gratefulness are the top candidates. Campanulas, azaleas, and dark pink roses all mean gratitude and thankfulness.”

               “I’ll make sure to remember that next time I buy flowers for my mom,” Jimin smiles. “I always go for red roses every damn single time.”

               “It’s the classic. Can’t blame you though, it has the most generic message applicable to many kinds of relationships.”

               “Yeah, really?”

               “Yeah, they mean true love–True love for your friend, true love for your parent, or true love for your significant other. People usually use the connotation of “true love” for romantic relations when it’s actually applicable to familial bonds and friendships. After all, all of these relationships require truthfulness and love at the same time.”

               Jimin’s  mouth forms an o-shape. “Oh, I never really thought of that.”

               “Well now you know,” you grin.

               “Inked and stamped now, ma’am,” Jimin slaps his palm on his head and you giggle. At your laugh, Jimin smile grows bigger. “Okay, here’s another one: what flower is the best one to give to your mortal enemy?”

               “Are you insane? Who gives flowers to their mortal enemy?”

               Jimin shrugs. “Why not?”

               “Disregarding the money and time you’re wasting picking these flowers for such person,” you squint your eyes at him and Jimin laughs, “you should definitely go for foxgloves and orange lilies. They literally mean ‘Fuck you’ to the hardest core.”

               “‘Fuck you’ in what sense?” Jimin teases.

               You easily go along with it, mischief easily brewing inside your head. “They mean ‘fuck you’ as a curse, but if you mean the suggestive ‘fuck you’ then go for balsams. Though they may not be that arousing because they have these large, curving petals that look worn and limp, and you DON’T want to imply you’re like that flower.”

               Jimin guffaws, “Then why do they mean ‘fuck you’ if they’re not the least bit attractive?”

               “I don’t know, blame the Victorians who invented this floriography. Preferences change over time anyway so we can’t blame them for thinking balsams back then are ahhhsm.”

               You’re co-workers always found that joke dry and lame and yet in front of you, Jimin laughs as he holds his stomach, even finding the need for his other hand to slap the table again and again.  At this rate, he’s toning his abs from how hard he tries to keep his laughter not loud enough to disturb other customers. Despite the forming grin on your face, you found the need to say, “Okay, sorry that came out really, really suggestive.”

               “No, it’s okay,” Jimin assures. “I was the one who insinuated the suggestive themes anyway. I don’t mind at all.”

               “Me too,” you gulp. “It’s cool that we get to sit and chat like this without worrying about anything sexual.”

               “…Yeah, I agree,” Jimin tugs his shirt and clears his throat. “Anyway, what flower is the best one to give to your significant other? The most romantic one, the one that will instantly make your heart flutter?”

               “Well,” your fidget in your seat, “that depends on what the significant other likes. Flowers may hold different meanings but the preference for them still largely relies on the recipient.”

               “What do you like to receive?”

               You look at him, gaze questioning any ulterior intentions, any flirtatious comebacks he wants to blurt after possibly faking interest about such important topic. But when he tilts his head, waiting for your answer, you can’t help but blindly disregard your doubts and just answer his question. “I think pansies would be enough for me.”

               “Pansies?”

               “Yeah… They have these delicate, round petals and they’re resilient whether the sun beats too harsh on them or the winter almost freezes them to their roots. Whatever weather, whatever place they live in, they’ll always, always live. I guess that’s why they mean ‘You’re always in my mind.’ There’s nothing more infectious, more resilient, than any disease but a constant thought. That’s why I think being always in someone’s mind is a lot. To have a significant other that gets to see you, feel you, hear you, smell you, even taste you without them being aware of it is already akin to…love. You can’t control what passes through your mind, much less on what or who stays in it. But it doesn’t matter,” you laugh awkwardly, throat hurting in the process. “I’m not into receiving flowers. They’re over-the-top and they wilt and I just have to throw them away when they served all their worth.”

               “But what would you do if someone is willing to give you those pansies everyday, help you clean them away when they wilt, and assure you a new batch will make its way to you again?”

               “Then…I will accept it. Gifts are free and my labor will be lessened.”

               Jimin leans back, eyes shining. “I will make sure then to drop by in your shop and buy you a bouquet of those to make up for my lack of gifts for our date today.”

               You scoff at him. “You’re buying flowers right from my workplace to give to me? That’s not romantic.”

               “Wanna see me come over with a suit and tie, then?”

               “Oh my god, why are you like this?” you wail, palms covering your face. You’ve always adored Jimin’s unwavering determination in their reality shows, however, having him here in front of you showing you this stubbornness is something else. You don’t know whether to hit him or kiss him. Wait, what–

               “How about this then?” you feel Jimin’s fingers part your hands away from your face and a breath gets stuck in your throat. He has leant forward, mask pulled down to his jaw, and his eyes trained straight towards yours. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away, too absorbed in Jimin’s intense stare. The thought that his vision is probably just filled with you and nothing else just like how your eyes only frame his entire face makes you queasy in your seat. You’ve never had someone look at you this, sincere and so open before that your long-time indignation to real-life romance and the whole soulmate thing has rendered you incapable of thinking what you should do–or if you should actually do anything than just get lost in another person’s eyes. You see Jimin’s lips pull into a soft curve of a smile. “Is this romantic enough?”

               Before you could choke on your own spit and indulge in awkward silence you know you’ll probably won’t get out of, a foreign voice by your side breaks your little bubble with Jimin. You glance to your left and a tall waiter bows. “Sorry to interrupt you, ma’am, sir, but would you like to order some dessert?”

               You look down at your plates to find everything in miniscule bits and crumbs, your meals completely finished. You sneak a peek at your wristwatch. It’s only 10:51, just mere twenty minutes have passed since you stepped onto the diner’s black and white tiles. You never imagined time could run so fast with another person invading your space than just your comfort zone.

               You see Jimin turn to the waiter. “Oh, no we’re finished. Can we ask for the bill?”

               Wait, you’re already finished? So soon? Your scrunched forehead must have gave out everything you’re thinking because Jimin turns to you and says, “I want to show you to some place. My turn to let you learn more about me.”

               Indifferent to the exchange between you two, the waiter hands Jimin the receipt. “Here it is, sir.”

               “Okay,” Jimin hands the payment on the waiter’s awaiting hands and you gape as you flounder for your own wallet. Jimin dismisses you. “I got this. You can pay me later.” He turns back to the waiter, “Thank you for the service.”

               “Thank you, too, sir.” The waiter returns and when you see him smile at Jimin again, his voice trails off and his eyes squint at the man across you. “Say, sir…you really look like Park Jimin from BTS.”

               “No.” Jimin’s smile drops into a frown and he quickly pulls up his mask.

               “No, really! I’ve been staring at you earlier and I can’t deny the similarities!” the waiter insists and you see his eyes spark in recognition. “You have the similar droopy eyes and familiar voice. Oh yeah, Jimin’s blonde hair on yesterday’s Music Bank is the same as yours–wait, don’t tell me,” The waiter pauses and raises his index finger to Jimin, “you’re the Park Jimin himself?” Jimin glances at you in panic and the waiter catches the small movement of denial. “Oh my god, you are Park Jimin! Damn, man, can I get an autograph? My sister loves you so much!”

               Neither you nor Jimin were able to say a thing after that, nor did you get a chance. The customers that didn’t care about your presence twenty minutes ago are now looking at your way with full, intent stares.

                “Jimin? Park Jimin? That singer from BTS?”

               “Jimin is here?!”

               “Oh my god, it is him! It’s Jimin! It’s the same hair color and jacket and earrings he wore in tonight’s V Live!”

               In the next second, everyone is screaming and rushing out of their tables to approach you.

               You’re frozen in your seat, chills rising in succession in your feet, arms, and spine. Crowds of faces were shoved right against your face, bunches of arms reaching and grabbing and thrashing around, and the screams and hollers were so loud they turn into garbled white noise. It’s like the zombie apocalypse except the creatures grabbing at you are still real, living people.

               “Jimin! Jimin!”

               “Oh my god, Jimin’s with a girl!”

               “Hey, Jimin, look here!”

               “Jimin, please sign this!”              

               “Wait, is that Jimin’s girlfriend?”

               “Jimin, can I take a picture with you?”

               “Jimin, who’s that girl?!”

               “Jimin, I love you!”

               The next moments are a blur. A second ago, jumpy teens and young adults were crowding your table, screaming and thrashing around. In the next second, Jimin has his hand clasped around yours, pulling you fast out of your table and out of the door. And now you’re here, running on the city street, your steps pounding on the cold pavement in heavy beats as a thunderous stampede follows close behind your tail.

               You’re finding it hard to take in all that is happening that the sudden pull on your arm toward your right has you dizzy and almost nauseous.

               “What’s ha-happening?”

               Jimin sneaks a glance at you and then back on the street. “Our fans are chasing us. Keep running. We don’t want them to ruin our date.”

               You purse your lips and will your legs to keep up with his pace. You’re about to chide him for what he said but you decide against it and just kept your mouth shut. You can’t bite back a witty comeback when you’re running out of breath.

               Huffing, he pulls down his mask to take a breath. “C’mon, let’s run faster!”

                The city whizzes by you, multicolored houses meshing into straight lines and warped shapes in a fast-forwarded reel. The streetlights overhead promise another corner to turn to and the pavement below your feet remains constant in its grayness and never-ending stretch. You and Jimin run and turn to corner after corner and it wasn’t until you’re stepping on the fifth street from your run do you realize your hand is still clasped in his.

                It feels weird to have another hand next to yours, much less a hand with fingers that oddly perfectly fill each gap between yours. What’s more odd is that you are comfortable, running to god knows where, hand in hand with a stranger. Well, Jimin’s not technically a stranger, given that you’ve known about him onscreen for six years, but still, everything feels too new and strange especially when he’s your…soulmate.

               The sleeve of your jacket has ridden upward your arm and your eyes immediately caught your inked daffodils. You’ve let your eyes miss their beauty in your shock earlier. But now, you can’t help but stare at awe when the flowers’ yellow petals rival the golden daylight as if the moonlight above has reflected every bit of the sun’s shine onto the art inked on your arms. You’ve never heard of this kind of soulmate system before, nor its strange incongruity with Jimin’s soulmate system. What is truly strange, is you’re already finding yourself dismissing any doubts about them. It’s horrifying that you can’t seem to care about anything anymore because all you could feel is…joy. Everything feels too perfect like a dream. Maybe it is true that you’re actually dreaming because as far as you’re concerned, the soulmate systems have ousted you since you were born. Everything about this daffodil sleeves and Jimin are probably just conjured by your unconscious, trying to make you feel better to ease the guilt of ruining Lucy’s night. You’ll wake up to your alarm to another shitty day in law school and then –

               “JIMIIIIIIN!”

               Unlike your expectations, it is a blaring scream that wakes you up to your senses.            

               “Where’s Jimin?!”

               “There, there! I can see his blonde hair AHHH!!!!”

               “Jimin! Don’t run away from us!”

               And then, you’re running fast again, lungs squeezing in short breaths as Jimin pulls you to corner after corner, maneuvering you in and out of street after street. Your legs are starting to numb from exhaustion but before you could start to whine at Jimin for a short break to rest, he has already pulled you into a dark, narrow alleyway crammed between two clothing retail stores. Only a few seconds later, a mass of shouting teens runs past the street.  You turned your face away, holding your breath in until the last one behind them misses your hiding spot, only finding it permissible to breathe again when the fans’ loud voices dissipate in the next corner.

               When you turn your head back to your front, you’re met with Jimin’s own flustered face. Only mere inches separate your lips from brushing against each other. Words are caught in your throat as you let your eyes take in his flushed state: his fringes matted on his forehead, his pink lips parted as he huffs, his ears reddened from the cold, and his warm brown eyes that reflect your own blushing face. If everything that has happened tonight really turns out to be a dream, you hope your sleep could be long enough to let you drag this night for as long as you could.

               “What are you staring at?”

               You’re suddenly brought back to where you are, pressed uncomfortably against the cold walls of the alley. Your eyes instantly moved down to your feet and with the motion, you caught a glowing thing sitting right atop on your left ring finger. It takes you a second to realize that the yellow glow is coming from the inked daffodil on your ring finger. Your daffodil ring is glowing like a fucking firefly. Your eyes widen and they fleet upward to meet Jimin’s eyes, your mouth gaping. “I–uh-uh–um–”

               Jimin raises his eyebrows, lips curving upwards. “Can’t get enough of my beautiful face?”

               “What? No!” You turn away and scowl, hoping the night could cool down the heat forming on your cheeks. You frantically pull the sleeves of your oversized jacket to hide your glowing tattoo.

               “Don’t need to be defensive. You can stare as long as you want, Y/N. After all,” Jimin raises his index finger and gestures to his face and down to his body, “you own all of these.”

               Your eyes twitch and your lips form an unamused frown. Jimin laughs.

               Jimin was the first one to squeeze out from the narrow space and you follow next. Despite your reaction earlier, you find it necessary to keep the frown on your face. You try to not let it show how much his words are making your heart pound loud and proud against your ears.

               You clear your throat. “You’ve got some serious fans out there.”

               Sighing, Jimin takes off the mask pulled under his jaw and stuffs it in his jacket pocket. “Ah, yeah. We always get that occasional…warm greeting whenever we land at airports. I guess we’re already used to that.”

               “Warm?! It’s borderline harassment!”

               “They’re just…excited to see me, that’s all. I can’t complain because I signed up for this when I decided to pursue this career.”

               “But still! That doesn’t mean they get to shove their faces to you and scream and demand you to take pictures with them or sign this or that. You still have your personal space and people should respect that. You’re still a human being, Chim.”

               Jimin stares at you before he breaks into a chuckling fit. “I didn’t know we’re on the stage to be making petnames for each other now, Y/Nie.”

               You gulp as you feel your cheeks heat up again. “I’m serious!”

               “Yeah, I know. I’m just joking to laugh off the heartbeats I hear pounding loud in my chest. You look at him, brows furrowed. Jimin shrugs. “I can’t help it. You make me feel like this.”

               You clear your throat again, diverting the conversation to where you are before he got sidetracked. “Anyway, can’t you get like a restraining order on them or something?”

               “You know that’s impossible.”

               “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just pissed off.” He looks at you smirking, and before he can come up with another cheesy line, you spoke out, “For you! Pissed off for you, yeah. Any person shouldn’t go through such trauma.” Jimin nods and you ramble on, “I only saw you guys’ airport fiascos on fancams. I never knew a toned down version of those like this will be already this bad. Heck, I’m already trembling with just a couple of fans hot on our toes, what more for you guys who get pushed and shoved and grabbed here and there by a flock of them. It’s goddamn scary and infuriating. If I were in your shoes I would have dropped down and screamed and cried. I’m glad I didn’t push my stupid 17-year-old dream of becoming an idol. I can’t do that stuff.”

               “I’m glad too you didn’t pursue that dream. I don’t want other men freely ogling my girl with no lawful repercussions.”

               “’…Ew. Don’t say that again.”

               “What?”

               You blanch despite the heat gathering on your cheeks. “The ‘my girl.’ It’s cringey.”

               “Oh hell no am I never gonna say that again if you’re blushing and being cute like this because of it. Oh my, Y/N, you can just say you like it! I can say it again if you want to–”

               “Oh please, no–”

               “My girl.”

               “Shut up!”

               “Ahh, you’re blushing more!”

***

               The skyline has long deepened in an inky indigo blanket yet you can’t feel your eyes fluttering close any minute now. It’s true because about eleven thirty, you’re still busy chirping away flower meanings to Jimin who was attentive to every word down to every flower color, to notice you two have already reached the business area of the city. There were no more residential areas or any run-down bars. Skyscrapers stood tall and brooding on strict two sides of the road while cut-straight gravel streets measure a meter or two to separate establishments. Unlike the streets from the bar to the diner, which were colored in various hues of maroon, beige, blue, and occasional flickers of yellow, the buildings in front of you followed a narrow color palette of light gray to black. However, the gloomy vicinity did nothing to dim the colorful trivia-dump you’re doing with Jimin.

               “Did you know, most yellow flowers usually have the most offensive meanings?”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah, like the marigold. Despite being a vibrant flower, it actually means envy and jealousy. And oh, don’t get me started with carnations. I always find myself inquiring young men who came into the shop picking yellow carnations if the flowers were for a first date.”

               “Why is that?” Jimin raises his brows.

               “It’s a horrible choice for a first date! Yellow carnations mean disdain and you DON’T want to jinx a starting relationship with such a negative connotation.”

               “What flower should I pick then for a first date?”

               “Roses are safe. Red, pink, or white are definitely the charmers. White carnations also do the trick for you as they mean sweet love. Although I mentioned yellow flowers usually have the most offensive meanings, there’s one flower I know that stands out, the most perfect one I think for a first date.”

               “What is it?”

               “Sunflowers,” you grin. “Despite all their beauty and all that mechanism where they turn towards the sun’s direction, they are quite tedious to grow. They’re needy of nutrients. They drain the soil from its nutrients, hogging them that no other kind of plant should be placed near them as they will easily die. That’s why they carry the meaning of draining love. But you know what? Even if they’re draining, they hold one of the most delicate and romantic message”

               “What is it?”

               “Everlasting love,” you smile. “They may be quite draining but their beauty is worth every effort. See? Wouldn’t be that the perfect flower for a first date?”

               Jimin nods. “Yeah, they are.” He looks at you, smiling and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling too wide.

               When you turned to another street, Jimin asks, “Do you know another flower that holds such a…bittersweet message?”

               “Yeah, spiderlilies. But you know, I think that flower has the saddest story to tell.”

               “Why is that?”

               “It’s the flower of parting. It–” You suddenly trail off and Jimin stops in his step the minute you pull his arm into a stop. “Wait, where are we? Why are we in the business part of the town?”

               Jimin tilts his head, “I told you I’m gonna show you a place.”

               “A place? In here?”

               “Just trust me,” Jimin chuckles and he grabs your hand before you can utter another word.

               After a couple of minutes weaving down two streets and turning two corners to the left, the two of you stand in front of a humongous gravel gray tower. It would have looked uptight and intimidating if it weren’t for its darkening edges, from the soot or age, you couldn’t tell. All you know is that Jimin is already pushing through the large glass double doors with you in tow.

               “W-wait, what are you doing? This is trespassing and if you don’t know what it is, it’s illegal!”

               “We’re not trespassing. Trust me.”

               The furrows on your forehead deepen, anxiety grappling at the edges of your nerves, but you couldn’t do anything but follow him. You don’t want to admit your feet were walking on their own so you’re gonna blame Jimin for holding your hand too firmly.

               The ground floor of the tower wasn’t that much. All it has was clean white walls and cream-tiled floors. Its reception desk wasn’t too grand with just a gold bell, a couple of stacked news articles cased to the side, and a fake Picasso painting hung behind it. You can tell it’s Picasso because it was the same painting you always stare at in the guidance counselor’s room, with a small black label printed “Picasso” underneath it. And you know it’s fake because the guidance counselor told you the original piece of that painting now resides in the residence of an old Italian antique collector. The two of you wound a corridor and passed two hallways before you stop in front of metal double-doors, the ones used for fire exits in hospitals. It has a built-in lock and by the way Jimin pushes the door without any advances, you know it’s locked. Jimin fumbles for the back pocket of his jeans and produces his wallet, taking a silver key tucked in its small flaps.

               You gawk. “You have a key for this?”

               Jimin doesn’t answer but smiles, inserting the key. When you hear the doors unlock, he pushes one open and gestures for you to come inside. You didn’t have any qualms and just followed him. You figured that if Jimin has the key, then what you’re doing is not trespassing, and you find yourself relaxing eventhough you’re boggled as to why Jimin possesses such key when his entertainment company is in another twenty-six storey building on the opposite side of town.

               Jimin leads you down a wide hallway past the metal double-doors, now colored in gray walls and darker gray tiles instead of the standard white and cream of the rest of the ground floor. There were a couple of doors lining on the sides, each designated with a position of an authority you didn’t catch to read. At the end of the hallway, a set of stairs lead downwards and you find yourself yet again, waiting in front of another set of metal double doors as Jimin inserts another silver key into the built-in lock. He pushes the doors open and as you stepped inside, you feel your jaw drop to the floor.

               In front of you was a skating rink, surrounded by glass partitions that measure about a meter. Black benches surround the rink like the ones you see in the hockey games inserted in films. However, unlike the ones you watched, the benches weren’t many enough to hold spectators of a game, and the rink was too small to hold a proper hockey game. It’s probably ideal only for recreational skating like the ones you went to with your mother whenever she feels like taking you out in winter.    

               You turn to Jimin. “What is this skating rink? I thought we were inside a business building.”

               Jimin leans on one of the benches. “Me and my group always go here to let out stress. When we were stressing for our debut, when we need a breather for comebacks or, when the cameras and media were too much–we always go here. It’s a secret hangout place, tucked underneath this large corporate building.About 50 years ago, this building was like a winter sports complex. It has this large skating rink where monthly local competitions for hockey and curling are held. Sometimes, it’s lucky enough to hold regional competitions as this part of town was far from the business center back then. Aside from contests and trainings being held, anyone–kids, teens, adults–gets to arrange who uses the spare time from the fixed schedule of the complex for recreational hockey, curling, or just…skating round and round.” Jimin laughs. “Sometimes, the complex frees it schedule to invite anyone to come and skate for a downgraded price. You know, like how your local authorities turn the frozen lakes into a public skating area when winter comes.”

               Jimin’s lips form a straight line, “However, business turned sour in the long run because another sports complex was built near the area, equipped with more supplies and employees. So the owner of the complex and the land had to sell their whole business because of that, and also because her family is going to migrate to the States. This skating rink was supposed to be taken down but the first owner of the land run back to this town and made an agreement with the buyer. Pleaded nothing will change from the negotiation except she’ll pay anything just for the buyer to keep the rink. She went all out with her money then. Even sold her house and her ancestor’s villa in Taiwan.”

               “She…spent all her money for this?”

               “Well, yeah. She did go almost bankrupt but at least she got to keep her skating rink before she died.” Jimin glances at you, waiting for a reply but when you just return a stare, he tilts his head in inquiry.

               You pull on your sleeves. “I didn’t say she did bad choices…it’s just that–it’s a lot of risk. I don’t think anyone could do that but her.”

               “Anyone can do that, it just depends what they’re willing to risk. Because–well, some things are just worth risking everything for.”

               You stay silent, staring at him. Jimin chuckles and grabs your hand to lead you towards the locker room. He proceeds with his story, “The buyer built a commercial building but fulfilled his end of the agreement by keeping the rink. And when the buyer eventually handed over the building to his son, the skating rink was then cut into half as the 3rd owner got the building renovated and sold half of the land to another millionaire. The other section of the rink was turned into another building but this one remained because the owner’s son loved to skate whenever his dad brings him for bring-your-child-to-work day. Now the son, the current owner, kept this skating rink and even opened it to the public because unlike the previous owner, his dad, he’s fun and wants to let kids come into this concrete jungle just to play and hang out.”

               “How do you know all of these?”

               “I’m friends with the current owner. His name is Henry Kim, a friend from preschool, and I swear I never knew how filthy rich he was back then. We became friends because I got enticed by his story of the first land owner meeting her soulmate, her husband, in a local skating rink which inspired her to build the sports complex and even had the succeeding owners keep the rink. Henry even got me some articles about it to read. So now, I and the boys get to have alone time in here whenever we want, away from all the cameras and the media and the pizzaz. It’s a privilege, I know, given our…status, but I’d like to think it more as out of our friendship.” He turns back to smile at you. “It makes me warm.”

               You didn’t know how to reply to his last statement so you just returned his smile and let his hand guide you to the locker rooms where you can strap on your skating shoes. It didn’t take you too long to lace up your skating shoes and waddle onto the rink because within just a couple of minutes, you’re already giggling, waltzing on the ice. It’s been a while since you let yourself enjoy like a child like this–free from societal pressure, success strife stress, and family expectations; to laugh aloud and feel nothing akin but being on top of the world just because of simple things like this–skating round and round.

               “So you told me, it’s your turn to let me learn more about you,” you skid in front of Jimin, grinning. “When is that gonna happen? You’ve been rambling about on and on about a lot of other people.”

               “Well, there isn’t much,” Jimin skates in time with you towards the east end of the rink. “I practically showed and revealed everything already on TVs and magazines.”

               “Not true. You’re more than what the cameras show what you seem to be.”

               “You’re a fan though. You practically already know everything about me.”

               “Also not true. No one is capable of fully knowing everything about everyone. All you have is your perception of others and others’ perception of you, but they will never be enough to be everything about you nor others. People are like mirrors, you know. They see each other based on the images they envision them in so, they’re just staring at what their thoughts collectively created about another person. In the end, the only one who truly knows themselves are no one but themselves.” You sigh, turning to him and taking his hand as you let centripetal force control your balance and skate you backward. “How about this: you tell me things you’ve never told anyone before.”

               “Okay,” Jimin agrees and he pulls you back to his side, hands still connected. “Do you know I used to dream of becoming a fisherman?”

               “A fisherman? Do you even know how to fish?”

               “Well…no. But you know how preschool assigns you this homework where you have to draw your dream?” You nod. “Well,” Jimin continues, “I don’t really have a dream for me back then and I can’t draw for the life of me. And then, I figured a fisherman is easy to draw because you just have to get the trapezoidal boat, the swirling waves, the stickman, and the two lines of a fishing rod right. You can add puffy clouds and the ‘m’ birds for background. After that, I convinced myself all I ever wanted is to be a fisherman and when I told that to my mother, she almost fainted.”

               “Oh my god,” you giggle, “you just made up a dream for yourself out of a drawing?”

               “Yeah, and it wasn’t the only scenario,” Jimin laughs. “By 3rd grade, I learned how to draw a motorcycle from sticks and circles so when the draw-your-dream assignment came up again, I upgraded my drawing skills and changed my dream: I now want to be a pizza delivery guy. Of course, I told my mom about it again and this time, she also upgraded: she chased me around with a slipper.”

               “I understand your mom though,” you manage to chortle in between snickers. “Being a fisherman and a pizza delivery guy are honorable but they weren’t the greatest permanent jobs in this down-slope economy.”

                “True,” Jimin agrees and this time, he lets himself skate backward, keeping his hold on your hand, firm. “Anyway, the rest is history. The media already wrote about how I got into a contemporary arts school and from there I learned to love dance and eventually dreamed of becoming a performer.”

               “What did I tell you about not being only what the people see you to be?”

               “Okay, okay. Umm,” Jimin trails off, eyes wandering as if the things he wanted to say can be easily picked up in the skating rink. But just a second later, he’s suddenly looking straight into your eyes, his own ones glimmering. “Oh, I got one! I was a hell of a headache when I was a kid. I was always so jumpy, running around, loudy as hell–the type of kids you cannot contain in one place?”

               You nod, smiling. “A lot of kids were like that.”

               “Well,” he chuckles, “the difference is that I cannot still be contained in one place even I’m way past a kid. Anyway, the me back then was a whole different level. I like going to town after town, wandering around, always hoping for some adventure. I once got on top of a delivery van, parked near my neighbor’s house, so near that it was easy for me to jump on it from their balcony. Their balcony wasn’t that tall anyway because their house was some kind of a Spanish-inspired bungalow. We were playing hide and seek at that time. I was so competitive I thought if I got on top of the van and lied down very flat, I will be unnoticed. It turned out to be a good idea because ten minutes later, the kids are now calling out for my name, yelling for me to show up so we can start another game. When the van suddenly rumbled, I quickly realized what I did was a terrible idea. The van picked up its pace and now we’re really moving from the front of my neighbor’s house. You know what I did?”

               You shook your head, giggling.

               “I cried. Real loud. Snot, sweat, and tears mixing, I look like a dumb, reckless kid who always gets complaints from the neighbors.” Jimin laughed. “So after crying for like good two minutes, that I thought was an hour back then, I started choking on my own spit. With the wailing turned down, I heard my father running behind and screaming for the van to stop. I was lucky that the driver immediately stopped after hearing my father’s cries. But after that, I wasn’t lucky anymore. My mom felt the need to keep me away from vans and my neighbor’s balcony. God, it was so embarrassing.”

               “At least your ‘hobby’ got corrected,” you quip.

               “You think jumping on vans was my hobby?” Jimin scoffs then smirks. “Don’t underestimate me. I can do much more than jumping on vans. I even did bungee jumping. Remember that episode on Run BTS!, our TV show?”

               “Of course I remember. You screamed like a screeching pterodactyl.”

               “No, I did not. That was Taehyung.”

               “Okay, okay, touché. I was just trying to make you laugh.”

               Jimin grins. “You don’t have to try though. You can always effortlessly do that.”

               You tilt your head. “Are you telling me my existence is funny?”

               Jimin pulls you towards him and you almost tumble forward but his firm grip on your hand keeps you balanced on your skates. However, you could feel every bit of warmth coming from his body as his arms are now wound around yours, keeping you as close to him as possible. Close enough for you to feel his breath fan against yours, close enough for you to trace every constellation marking up his face, and close enough for you to see the reflection of your face in his eyes…again. Jimin breaks into a grin. “I’m trying to tell you that you can easily make me happy without even trying.”

               You feel scorching heat immediately spread on your chest and to the rest of your body. You lightly push Jimin away, scoffing. Jimin puts his hands into his pockets. You sputter out,“W-what? As if I can do that. I’m really really intolerable and insufferable, you know?”

               Jimin chuckles, “It’s okay. I can handle that.”

               Before you can mumble out another disagreement, Jimin grabs your hand again, leading the two of you to the other side of the rink, this time, skating side by side.

               “Continuing from what I left on, you know what good came out from my reckless days?”

               You don’t answer him but glance his way.

               Jimin continues on, “I managed to get lots of friends. I got a bunch of them in preschool, then in elementary. When I got into high school, my group of friends got so large that almost everyone in the school, not just our batch but the lower grade levels as well, practically knew me before I even knew their name. Man, it was crazy. I get to hang out with different people per week and I get to learn their stories. It’s so fun.”

                “You must be quite of a people-person even back then.”

               “Ah, yeah,” Jimin nods. “People said I thrive off people surrounding me. Said I like being complimented and that I grow more when I’m surrounded by them. Something about collective growth.”

               “But, who wouldn’t like compliments?”

               “True. Everyone likes them. It’s just…I think they are right, but sometimes…I beg to differ.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “I feel like it’s the people who thrive on me, not the other way around.”

               You look at him, curious. “How come?”

               Jimin breathes out, tugging the collar of his leather jacket closer to his neck with his free hand. “I thought why people liked me back then was because I was fun. You know that type of kid, who gets the crowd’s attention easily and entices everyone to join them in in whatever they do? That type of kid who’s easy-going and can effortlessly make boring things look cool? The people around me told me I was like that and at times, I do feel it’s the reason why I got so many friends. But as I grow up, I feel people liked me because I really love listening to their stories. I love it too much that it was even quite…abnormal.”

               “Abnormal?”

               “Yeah…abnormal. You see, back on the days, I used to latch on to person after person telling them, no, begging them to tell me their stories–the place they were born in, where they grew up in, their secrets and interests, anything. I learned how to clean vinyl records from an old unmarried man in our neighborhood. I got to travel to Geneva from a rich girl who told me her summer vacation at the playground. I even unknowingly caught up with the local gossip of a married man and his mistress three blocks from our neighborhood. I don’t know why exactly I did it. It just felt nice. It seems our generation’s now short of anyone willing to listen to what they have to say. So when people heard of my abnormal…hobby, they searched for me and spilled everything. They get someone to listen to them, and I get myself new stories. It’s a win-win situation.”

               Jimin steps to the side, creating a wider gap between your bodies as you skate but still kept your hands interlocked. “They treated me like a pond they could throw rocks into, entertaining them with my fascination and curiosity and assuring them I will not tell another soul about what they said. Just repeating what they said, nodding when they ask questions, and taking everything they told me inside when they bid their temporary farewells. They always come back for another listening session and everything will repeat. Some people I listened to talked too excitedly as if a day will never be enough to tell their story. A few talked in spurts that it’s hard to determine the beginning and the end of their stories. There were the factual lessons, rambles of nonsense, litanies of achievements, and some tear-jerkers.” Jimin sighs. “But the most amazing one I ever got to listen to was how my mom and dad met.”

               You purse your lips. “U-uh, who told you that story?”

               “My mom,” Jimin grins. “She told me the story of how they met as soon as I can understand anything. Of course, they told me the red string of fate story, but what interested me the most was their soulbond. Their soulmate system lets them know what each other is feeling even without talking about it. It’s amazing.”

               “How did they meet then?”

               “Well, my dad had a crush on my mom before he even knew she was his soulmate. My mom is my dad’s childhood friend. She became his friend in his very first day in school after she defended him from a group of kids bullying him for being too short. After that, all he ever did was admire her. He wasn’t too adamant about the soulmate system before then because all he could ever feel from his system was annoyance and irritation.  My mom lived next to dad’s house and belonged to the same group of friends he has so it was easy for him to always see her. However, talking to her was a difficult feat because my dad is one hell of an introvert and he always gets frozen feet just at the sight of her. So when my mom finally had enough of my father’s tiptoeing around her, she demanded for him to just tell her whatever issue he has with her so she can stop feeling awkward with his coldness.” Jimin giggles, “Of course my father is bad at confrontations so he just hiccupped and ran away in embarrassment. However, my mother’s words sunk in so he pulled out a recorded track he made about a month ago–a song he made just about my mother, and edited it, ending with a shy ‘I-I know you probably have many suitors by now…but can you please, please, please take a chance on me? Okay, that was too forward, shit, I’m sorry, how do I turn this off?’”

               Your jaw hangs open in disbelief. “You memorized it word per word?”

               “Of course,” Jimin chortles. “It’s too funny to let go!”

               “So after my mom heard about the record my dad left on her doorstep, she immediately asked him to dinner that night. And during their date, that’s when dad felt his soulbond feeling at peace and in love. It didn’t take them to put two-on-two together to tell they were each other’s soulmate. I swear, their soulmate system is wonderful. Dad can easily tell when mom is upset and he easily convinces her to talk it out with him. I always think communication is a strong foundation of every relationship, and to have such a soulmate system to let you feel easily what the other is feeling, it must be heaven! Imagine not having to guess or tiptoe around one another when conflicts arise. Feelings assure you the truth because no one can control what they want to feel, not to mention that soulmate system betters you to become a more empathic person.” Jimin turns and locks his eyes with yours. “Don’t you think it’s amazing to have such phenomenon? To have a significant other crafted by the universe just for you?

               You glance away. “…Yeah.”

               Jimin diverts his eyes back on the ice. “Unlike the me back then, I wasn’t that much into stories now.”

               “Why?”

               “These days, it’s hard for me to reach out and listen to people who have anything but hate or illusioned righteousness fueling their systems. The only things people tell me now were how great I was, how much I make from this job, how handsome I got. Sometimes I get to listen to bitter people who feel the need to question my career choices, making me feel bad to uplift themselves. And then majority of the time, I get people who idolize me so much, put me on the pedestal, and make me out as someone that wasn’t really me. I know some of them mean well, but sometimes…you’re just not comfortable anymore.”

               You look up at him, “Because you know you’re more than that?”

               “Well, yeah,” Jimin glances at you. “You put it really well into words. I’m impressed.”

               A question was on the tip of your tongue and you purse your lips, debating whether to ask him or not. But then, this might be your only chance you could ask him this, so you made up your mind and tugged his jacket. “Tell me, sometimes…do you ever wish you didn’t get this humongous fame at all?”

               Jimin stares at you and a couple of seconds passed before he decided to answer. “Yes, sometimes. I hate how people follow me everywhere, invade my privacy, and treat me more as a commodity than a human being. I hate how I have to hide my family and childhood friends from the limelight just so they don’t get dragged in any scandals people are so obsessed in making up. I hate having to wake up and unconsciously worry about my looks, my angles, and my weight more than anything else because I know more important matters in the society are more worth thinking and talking about–but I–I don’t know, I just can’t help it. I can’t help how the media changed me. Of course, there’re good and bad changes it brought to my life but I hated the bad ones to the very core.  But you know, when I look back and trace my steps to where I was before, I realize that fame made me happy before,” he looks at you, “and how it still does now. With this fame I was able to bring joy to lots of people and give them love they were unable to receive from those around them. With this fame I was able to give my parents a home they used to only dream about. With this fame, I was able to meet my bandmates who loved me like a family…and, I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t become the Jimin now.”

               “H-how so?”

               “You wouldn’t have taken a chance on this date, on this soulmate thing for one whole night with me, if I wasn’t who I was today.”

               Your forehead furrows, your chest constricting in pain. “N-not true. Why are you telling me that –okay, maybe I gave you that impression of an obsessive fangirl because I blurted everything on my tongue when I first saw you, but honestly I wanted to know you more as a person and not as–”

               “No, no,” Jimin waves his hand, chuckling. “I’m sorry I implied it that way. What I mean is: You wouldn’t have trusted me enough to stay with me tonight and try this soulmate thing if I wasn’t able to love myself first before I met you.  I didn’t know what love was back then. I just imagine myself being unconditionally admired and taken care of my soulmate. And, I guess I wasn’t my best during that time. I complain a lot, demand too much, and bottle my feelings inside until they suffocate me. When things go wrong, I find it easy to blame someone else. I regarded too highly of myself that I’ve become selfish and insensitive to the people around me. So when I slowly started  to outgrow my horrible past-self, I then learned it’s impossible to trust someone about love and relationships if they are still unable to love themselves. Sure, people will argue that they can figure that out together. But still, I think it’s better if we learn how to be comfortable in our own skins before we demand others to love us. It’s not fair for them to tolerate their significant others who can’t love them right. How can we love others when we don’t know even know how love is supposed to be and feel like? That’s why…I’m glad I met you now, because I think I’m ready to love–” Jimin bites his lip, “Okay sorry, I got too sidetracked and went off the loop again , but do you get what I mean?”

               “Yeah, it’s just,” you close your eyes, shaking your head, “everything about this soulmate thing still shocks me and I’m still trying to get a hang of it so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

               You keep your glance down, apologetic, waiting for Jimin’s reply. But all you got is, “Why do you like flowers so much?”

               You look up and Jimin looks at you, eyes warm, smile wide. You didn’t have to stare for long to know he’s trying to change the topic. Trying to make you comfortable again. Actually, he never failed to make you comfortable throughout the whole night. He has never pushed you to tell everything about yourself–never demanded for you to tell him about your family like how he openly talked about his, never forced you to reveal your weaknesses and insecurities when he let you in on his vulnerability.  And even though you’re starting to think whether to talk about each one of them or not now, he still gives you the choice to come back to your safe zone whenever you want. All of these are enough of a reason to grip his hand tighter in yours and pull him to the center of the rink, facing each other.

               “Wait, whoa!”

               “Okay, why don’t we dance?”

               Jimin’s eyes almost bulge out “Dance?”

               “Yeah, dance! You know what, I’ll take the lead.” You pulled him closer to you, looping your arms around his frame in a gentle hug. Jimin’s shocked and tensed for a bit, but it wasn’t long before you can feel him giggling behind your ear and returning the hug.

               “I didn’t know you were this…aggressive.”

               “Shut up,” you laugh. “Can you just indulge in my free offer and not say another cheesy pick-up line?”

               Jimin chuckles. “Okay, will do.”

               You didn’t move much. Just, swaying and turning in small motions with your arms wound around each other. You can’t exactly point out why you’re suddenly doing this when an hour ago, you’re too adamant showing him you’re not affected by him at all. All you know is you can no longer disagree that everything with him felt right. Even if you’re still afraid and unsure, everything you did with him made you feel good. Everything you did with him made you feel something akin to happiness.

               And this time, you feel the urge to take the risk and dive in. Just for this night, you’re going to do yourself a favor. Only for one night.

               “I… like flowers so much because words can sometimes be never be enough. Flowers are the only ones that can materialize them. They’re ephemeral and they wilt, like how words evaporate into thin air once you let them out in the open. But, you know that they once lived to fill a moment because you saw their beauty and their ugliness in such a short period of time. They did exist and you know it. And I guess,” you murmur, snuggling deeper into Jimin’s hug, “it’s only through those flowers I get to be true to myself.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “Out of all the things I said tonight, the truest of them all are only the flowers. I’m not a great…arguer at all. I’m a pathological liar. I lied to myself about my distrust in this soulmate system. My cynicism to it was never solely because I wanted to make my own destiny. It was because I saw my mother and father’s relationship go down the drain even when they’re already made for each other. They knew each other so well that it’s easy for them where to hurt each other each time one of them fucks up. They divorced and I have to live in a broken family, torn between the two of them, afloat and in limbo as to where I should stand when they’ve easily marked my days as to what kind of daughter I should portray whenever I have to visit them.  And for me to live without any soulmate system at all, it felt I was further kicked down to the curb by life. Because as much as important love is, sometimes what only matter the most is the assurance that somehow, someone will love me. Because that thought is enough of an emergency kit for my mind whenever I feel too cut off from the world. And having no soulmate system as any kind of assurance….I pitied myself, thinking I can never find out what love truly feels.”

               You hiccup. “I lied to myself for years that my mother’s disappointment in me didn’t bother me. I always knew I’m difficult and for her to see me grow as a woman that she did not expect me to be is hard. I was never into law. I’m into gardening. My mom knows that because I was the one who always tended to our plants and made our garden grow as much as it could even if we’re just in a single bedroom condo unit. I just decided to take law because I know I can’t make a living out of gardening yet. It’s sad, I know, but I have to push through so when the time comes I get to save enough, I can open my own garden shop. And,” you trail off, grasping Jimin tighter in your arms, “I lied to myself I hated every bit of this night with you when tonight’s probably the happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life.”

               Jimin didn’t say anything. He just hugged you tighter when your shoulders quiver, stroked your back when he felt stray tears wet the skin of his neck. He didn’t push you to say more. He lulled you back to comfort in his swaying, singing you a tender melody by your ear to help you feel at ease again. He is just there, unobtrusive, just patiently waiting for you to do anything.

                When he felt you loosen a bit in his hold, he lets out his voice. “Would you mind to continue the story of the spider lily? You left me quite hanging there.”

               You don’t know why he’s diverting the topic again, but you didn’t mind, having the chance to relieve yourself from years-worth of heaviness you just have mindlessly let out in the empty ice rink. After all, he’s a stranger and telling him everything in your mind wouldn’t hurt because they all leave unobtrusive marks in your life which they easily erase once it’s time for them to go. However, it pains you to type in Jimin as just a stranger in your life.

               You clear your throat. “The-the spider lily is the flower of parting. Their flowers only bloom when the leaves die. They were believed to be lovers who aren’t destined to be together at all.”

               “That’s…terrible.”

               You nod. “…Yeah.”

               “I’ll make sure our story does not go like that.”

               You draw back to look at his face. “What?”

               Jimin smiles. “I’ll make sure our story does not turn out like the spiderlily’s. I know you’re still probably against this soulmate phenomenon. But…I want you to know that you don’t have to feel alone and unloved anymore. I’m already here. And I’m serious about you. Soulmate or not, what we have now isn’t just a one-night thing.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “I love you.”

               Jimin stares at you and it only takes a second before he suddenly rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “I-I know it’s too soon and you don’t have to say it back but I can’t control what I feel and–”

               You lean forward and shut him up with a kiss. Jimin freezes in your hold for a second, and then he instantly melts in your arms and returns your kiss. You don’t know why you’re doing these–embracing him tighter, angling your head, deepening the kiss to taste more of him, letting him pull you closer so that you can now compare the matching rhythm of your heartbeats. You don’t know why you’re exactly doing these things with a man you just met, no, your soulmate you just found tonight, when hours ago you’re expressing your disdain on the existence of the soulmate phenomenon. The only thought unwaveringly running in your mind now is you don’t want this to stop.

               You don’t want to stop staring at Jimin, even when you struggled getting in the cab he hailed, too busy getting lost in his eyes. You don’t want to stop enjoying the warmth from the small kisses he places against your nape, even if you had difficulty pulling your house keys from your tight jeans pocket as you giggle and moan in his warmth. You don’t want to stop feeling hot and high, even when the coldness of your home starts to seep into your toes as Jimin sheds the clothes on your body, piece by slow aching piece. You don’t want to stop holding his hand, even when you had to strain one arm pulling off his black shirt as he laughs against your neck. But most of all, you don’t want to stop kissing his lips, even when you have to part from him for a second as you lose your breath when his hips bucked into you when he laid you down on your bed.

               Jimin hovers above you, kissing you with such passion as if it will be the last time he would be able to hold you. And, you tried to return the same intensity, to balance the heat he radiates on your burning skin, to pave every expanse of his skin you could reach as he ventures every curve and ridge he could touch. With your bodies bared and stripped naked to each other, you can no longer hide the plethora of feelings that has welled on your chest just from such dream-like night you had shared with him. When Jimin parts away to cup your face in his hands, thumbs slowly caressing your cheeks, you see nothing in his eyes but the image of you–breathless, flustered, happy. You almost wanted to cry.

               “Can you be my first and last, Y/N?” Jimin asks, voice almost quivering.

               You can only manage a whisper through parted lips. “I can, Jimin. A-and I want you to be mine too.”

               After that, you were a goner. No words are further exchanged as Jimin starts to leave a trail of kisses from the sunken juncture of your jaw, to the ridge of your collarbones and onto the valleys of your tender breasts. He travels the gentle swells of your stomach, onto the curve of your hips until he’s down to the banks of your hot core, aching and willing and waiting for him. No words are slipped past each other as he dives in and savors every inch of you, nipping, and licking, and kissing your sopping heat until you’re a moaning mess on your sheets. And when he finally brings you to your high, no words are enough for you to express the euphoria thrumming in your nerves, settling on your chest, filling your head. No words are needed when your eyes and his convey them for you as you plead for more, more, and more and Jimin willingly gives all of him to you.

               Every touch of his hand on your quivering hips has you groaning and pleading. Every caress on your waist and shoulders has you sighing and moaning. Every brush of his hard chest against the soft buds of your breasts has you moaning and wailing. And every graze of his lips against yours, you can’t help but melt and let your body speak your thoughts for you. You pull him desperately, cupping his face as you roll your hips against his that has him choking out a moan.

               “Jimin,” you breathe into him and he smiles.

               “W-What?”

               “Please.”

               You don’t need to say anything in words for your dazed and glimmering eyes are enough to convey them all. Jimin smiles and gives in. He captures your lips into another kiss, murmuring your name between interlocked mouths. You feel him shift in his position above you and when he deepens the kiss again, you finally feel him burying himself deep in you. Jimin gives himself to you in slow and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed, fingernails digging into his skin. You sputter his name again and again and despite how far gone he is losing in your heat, his gaze on your eyes never wavers, nor loses trace of every bit of him he has exposed to you, making you lose yourself into him even more.

               Everything compounds into each other in such miniscule timeframe–from the moment Jimin intertwines his tongue with yours, to the second you clutch his head closer underneath your chin to continue his featherlight kisses on your jaw. When he angles his cock deeper into you, you can only think about nothing but him, him, and only him. As he holds your hand tight in his hold, with his lips on yours as he mutters “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in between every thrust, you finally feel what it’s like to be on top of the world.

               Like the explosion you felt when he first touched your hand, it only takes one second for Jimin to let you fall apart in his arms. Euphoria living alive in every inch of your nerves, you clutch desperately on his arms and Jimin draws you closer to him as your walls clamp onto him and coaxes him to also let go in your arms. The fullness and torrid heat of him spreads inside you and Jimin kisses you once more with everything he’s got–sloppy but passionate, messy but powerful–a beautiful mosaic of the feelings you had in the most wonderful night of your entire life.

               You’re dazed and shaken, wondering if it is possible for everything to be a dream. But when Jimin collapses next to you and pulls the blanket over your bodies, all thoughts cease in a staggering halt as he whispers, “I’m happy I get to know you.”

               You smile in his embrace, “Me too.” Sensations always hit first before thought and without thinking twice, you find yourself breathing out, “Promise me you’ll be by my side ‘til tomorrow morning.”

               Jimin kisses your left hand, the one with the daffodil ring, and as he says “I promise,” you fall into a peaceful slumber. His words are enough of an assurance for you.

***

               When tomorrow comes, you wake up on a cold bed. Jimin is nowhere to be found. You didn’t need to feel more of his side of the bed to know his clothes and shoes and every trace of him in your home is now gone. But still, he promised.

               You slip into your shirt discarded on the floor and drag your worn body to the living room. Your couch and your coffee table stood untouched. When you turn to your right, you find your kitchen and dining table empty. No smell of cooked food lingered in the air. You dashed to your shower even when you hear no sound of water splashing on the tiles. The door swings open and your shower stands empty, polished tiles dry, no trace of use on the faucet. With pounding steps, you run back to the living room, straight down to your door. Fingers skimming down on your bolts, your hand trembles when you find the knob and grasp it. When you twist it, your door clicks open as it unlocks.

               You refuse to acknowledge the obvious possibility looming on your head since you woke up. But now, it only takes one more second of you standing by your unlocked door before your thoughts crash down, choking out a broken sob from you. Jimin left the minute after what happened last night. He didn’t go outside to just buy something before coming back to your home. He didn’t even stay long enough to wash up and clean himself. He just got up, locked your door close, and went out, leaving you behind.

               You hunch over your doorstep, grunting, pain hammering on your chest as your body falls to the ground. Uneasiness, frustration, and desperation muddles into a heavy iron ball that sinks on your chest, sinking deeper and deeper until its heaviness constricts your lungs of any air.

               Jimin left and he didn’t even bother to leave a note. He doesn’t have your keys, nor your number. He isn’t planning to come back.

               You stiffle a broken scream on your clenched hands.

***

               Three taps on your desk grow louder by the second, each one nipping on your nerves.

               “Hey, Miss, my roses?”

               “O-oh, right,” you stir, eyes fluttering wide, taking in the bouquet of roses you were wrapping. The flower shop is brightly illuminated by the overhead lights and the morning daylight, yet everything looks so hazy, the frantic movements of your hands sticking out so aberrant from your perspective.

               “Here’s your bouquet, sir. Thank you for coming to Petal Hill.” The man waves off and your smile falls the second the glass door swings close in his exit.

               Everything went back to normal. You went to university in the morning, started your shift in the flower shop in the afternoon. You didn’t miss a day and you eat and sleep the same way. Routines are done the same way they are until they blur day after day, just how you live your days with sleep marking the end and beginning of every tomorrow. But, they are still not enough to fill the gaping hole in your chest. Whatever you do, they’re not enough to let you forget of that night. Even if you tried to convince yourself that you felt okay after Lucy made up with you, your false defense just crumbles whenever you so much glance at the inked flowers on your arms, the ones Jimin ignited to bloom that night. More so when now the flowers have dulled in their yellowness after he left.

               Even if you know it’s futile, you still did everything you can. You changed your sheets and cleaned your home. You refused to look into any online article pertaining to him. You busied yourself until you break down tired. You screamed and have already cried for so many nights. And you did something you abhorred: wait–wait for someone to come back without any assurance they have actually plans of coming back.

                You wait for Jimin to show up at your door, explain and apologize and fulfill his end of the promise. Because even if you abhorred the sight of your mother endlessly waiting for your father to come back and how you did the same for the both of them, Jimin is different. He is your soulmate and that night you met him, he convinced you it won’t hurt to give this soulmate phenomenon a chance. So each day after that dream-like night, you waited and waited until all seconds, hours, and days add into an excruciating week.

               For one week, Jimin didn’t show up and when a gray Sunday afternoon comes, eight days past the night, you’re starting to wonder if you should still keep your unrealistic hope alive.

               The glass door swings, ten footsteps echo in the silent shop, five pansies are laid down on your table–and then you stop. Your thoughts halt in a frozen limbo, your body stills in staggering shock.

               It’s the same bleached blonde hair, the same black leather jacket, the same silver earrings, the same drooped eyelids and warm, brown eyes – it’s Jimin, Park Jimin, who stands in front of you, waiting for you to wrap the pansies on your desk. It’s him, the soulmate you’ve been waiting to come back to you for so many days and nights and all you can do is–

               Your eyes immediately dart down to your desk as your fingers scramble to wrap the flowers. “If you just came here to make sure I won’t tell anybody what happened, don’t worry, I already plan not to. Your reputation will remain clean and you’ll still have millions of fans. You can leave after I wrap this.”

              “W-what? No, I’m not gonna do that, Y/N. Never...I came here to talk.”

              “Oh, so now you wanna talk. After a week of silence, you now decided you want to talk.”

              “Y/N–”

             “So now that you wanna talk, what are we gonna talk about? How everything that happened was a mistake?” you spit out. You’ve already thought about this but hearing them loud from your own lips starts to make your eyes sting with tears. You immediately look down again at the flowers you’re wrapping. You can’t cry in front of him again, let him see you this weak again. You can’t have him to kick you down to the curb again.

            “No, Y/N. I’m sorry. Please–please look at me.” Jimin says, a sob escaping his lips. Receiving no response, he places his palms on your desk and pulls down his mask as he leans forward to meet your downcasted eyes. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeats, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I wasn’t by your side that morning. But believe me, I didn’t want to break my promise, I just have to do something–”

              “What do you have to do?” you cut him as you raise your hand to wipe away the tear that has made its way down your cheeks. “What do you have to do that is so fucking important for you to just leave me as if nothing happened between us? Why do you have to disappear for a week without any word? Why do you have to just show up now? Why, Jimin, why?”

              You face Jimin, letting your eyes meet his for the first time and really look at him. His lips are chapped, his complexion pale, the bags under his eyes dark. He looks just as bad as you but you don’t want to dwell on it, afraid your resolve will crumble down when you should be keeping a strong front.

              “Y/N, I–I'm sorry,” Jimin says again as a tear escapes down his cheek. “What I did is unforgivable and I know you have every right to hate me right now. But I-I have actually planned to stay and make you breakfast and tell you–”

              “I don’t need to hear what you could have done because it did not happen,” you look at him and Jimin freezes. “You didn’t stay like you promised, Jimin.”

             “Y/N, please–” 

             “Just tell me why you left me. Why do you have to appear now?”

              “I,” Jimin starts and he sighs. “Namjoon called me around four, demanded where the hell I am. Apparently...the media has already published pictures of us getting in a cab together that night. Namjoon asked me to come back to the dorm right that instant before the media can do a massive stakeout in front of your building and barrage us with their cameras. So I didn’t come back the morning after to not raise any more suspicion. I waited a week to pass for the paparazzi to calm down and drive away their cars before I can go back to you.” He raises his hand to wipe a stray tear on his cheek but it’s not enough to prevent the small wet drop from landing on the pansies. “I-I can’t let the media invade your privacy and create horrendous articles about you. They can do that to me, but not to you. Never to you. You don’t deserve that.”

                You’ve imagined this confrontation scene again and again in your head for the last couple of days. You’ve planned what you’re going to say and how you would end this goddamn connection with Jimin once and for all. And yet...you couldn’t remember the words you’ve planned for so long to say right now. They just died immediately at the tip of your tongue as if they were never there in the first place. And you hate it. For once, you thought you could finally have some control over the effect of this man has on you. You feel ashamed. You feel as if you’ve betrayed yourself.

                Biting your lip, you bring your eyes back to the pansies. “I guess that’s better than having you figure out I’m just a simple nobody you can fuck over for one night of fun and throw away when you’re done and satisfied. Because that’s what I thought when you left me.”

               “No, Y/N, I’ll never do that to you–”  Jimin scrambles to reach for your hands but you take a step back away from him. You could see pain brim in his eyes and hurt pangs in your chest. You thought if you could deliver the same pain he brought to you, you would feel better. But no, you only felt worse. Worse for thinking hurting back the person you love is the right thing to do. Just like what your mom and dad did to each other. Tears sting your eyes at the thought. You swore never to become like them and you’re doing the very mistake they did. You hate this. You hate feeling so weak. You hate how you’re even thinking about Jimin and what he must be feeling when your own chest feels so heavy with the pain he caused.

               You tear your eyes away from him and dart them to your clenched hands. “I already heard your apology, Jimin. You don’t have to repeat it again to convince me. I’ll just finish these pansies so you can go.”

              “No, Y/N, you don’t understand. Can you please–please just look at me?”

             “What for, Jimin? I already heard you out, what more do you want?” You wipe away the tears that have streamed down your face, “Do you want me to hear now how sorry you are because you didn’t mean everything you said? Because if you do–”

              “I meant every single thing I said,” Jimin breathes out. “I love you, Y/N. So much that I want to do everything I can just for you to be happy. I waited for so long to finally meet you and I’m so, so, so sorry I broke my promise and fucked everything up. But I swear, Y/N, I want nothing but you and I meant everything I said especially when I told you I love you.”

              You raise your head to finally look at him and you almost wanted to regret your decision. Jimin stands in front of you, sobbing, eyes wrecked. He looks so vulnerable, cut wide open for you to see. You know he must be saying the truth but you still can’t ignore the doubt clouding in your head. You’ve already believed him once. You don’t want to repeat your mistake again.  “I would be lying if I told you I don’t want to believe what you said,” you choke out a sob, “But Jimin, I can’t just take you back and pretend what happened did not hurt me.”

               Jimin freezes. “N-no, Y/N, please–”

               “Jimin, I want you to prove you mean everything you said. I’m sorry, but I...I just can’t forgive someone so easily with mere words. I’ve seen hundreds of relationships go down because of that.” Your voice cracks, “Hell, I’ve seen my own mother and father destroy each other with repetitive apologies and forgiveness. I need to respect myself, Jimin, I–” you let out a shaky breath and hand over the wrapped pansies, “I’m sorry I can’t accept your apology now.”

               Jimin looks down and nods, “I understand, Y/N.” He doesn’t take the flowers and turns away, walking to the door. Each step he takes is synonymous to another crack making its way down your heart but you know you have to do this for yourself–for you to have enough reasons not to regret the decision you already made up in your mind about his and your future. You have to do this for yourself so you can finally deal with your fears and doubts about the soulmate phenomenon. So if Jimin can’t do what you request for, then you’ll let him go. You can’t let him and yourself experience the inevitable tragedy brought forth by the intense intimacy and transparency the soulmate phenomenon brings. You can’t take it if the both of you will face the same horrible ending your parents had.  

               Jimin stops by the door and you look up to see his retreating frame.

               “Keep the pansies. They’re for you. I-It was nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

               After that, he’s gone.

***

                You didn’t expect anything from him after your meeting in the flower shop. However, you know better than to anticipate nothing from Jimin but an effective counter-argument. You know your judgment is right when you found the proof first on your doorstep in the morning after of your talk, September 15. Five pansies stood in a small vase placed on the right of your door, next to your umbrella stand. Underneath it was a pink note, which said, “I’m sorry.”

               That evening, you stayed up late into the night. Your clock ticks ten thirty and then you hear it: a click of a button, a faint clink of glass, and Jimin’s soft voice.

               “Hi Y/N. I…I’m sorry for what I did. And I hope you know I won’t give up making it up to you for you to know I’m really serious about you. I–I’ve brought you pansies. I remember every single thing we talked about that night and after that night, the only thought that always comes to my mind ever since is you.”

               The morning after, you see the same vase and a fresh set of flowers, the wilted blooms probably cleaned up and taken out. However, instead of the note, a record lies next to the vase. When you slid it into your beat-up player, a relic you kept from your mother’s home, it plays his short message last night.  

               The routine falls into place the following days.

               “Hi Y/N. Our schedule today wasn’t full so I had the time to go to a library and read about flo-flo-floriography? My tongue always gets twisted when I say that so please don’t judge me. I’ll pronounce it better soon. So back to the book–I read that sweet peas mean ‘Thank you for the lovely time’ and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you that right after our date. After all, it was the happiest night of my life. Anyway, I got you some sweet peas now with the pansies. I hope you like them.”

               “Hi Y/N. I’m sorry I’m late.  We got dance practice until ten and I rushed here right after our choreographer called it a night. I wish I can show our dance to you now, but yeah…I guess you wouldn’t want to. You’ll probably throw the flowers I have now to my face. Okay, I’m kidding. I know you wouldn’t do that. I just want to make you laugh. I miss hearing you laugh.”

               “Hi Y/N. I stopped by Petal Hill this afternoon but I didn’t see you there. Someone filling in for you told me you skipped your shift to study for your tests. I wish I could help you like how guys in cheesy romance movies do but I guess I won’t be able to do that because I’m not that smart. I’ll leave early today so you can study. Eventhough I know you’ll slay it, I’ll still wish you good luck. I hope these gardenias with the pansies will give you additional good fortune.”

               “Hi Y/N. We did songwriting today and I wrote my first solo song. Guess who’s my ispiration. Surprise, Surprise, it’s you! Namjoon told us to just write out anything we’ve been thinking a lot lately and all I could think about is you. I can’t show it to you yet because it’s still messy but I promise, as soon as I made it perfect as it should be, you’ll be the first one to hear it!”

               “Hi Y/N. I read a book about flowers again! This time, I got curious about azaleas, the small, pretty pink blooms on the front shelf of Petal Hill? The flower book I read says they look like azaleas. Anyway, I learned that they require quite an effort to grow because they prefer a little sun and a little shade. I guess that’s why they mean ‘fragile’ in the older books of floriography. However, I read that even if they’re fragile, they can last for several weeks. Thus, they also mean ‘take care’ in modern floriography books. Isn’t that amazing? I brought azaleas today so they can last long and remind you to always take care of yourself.”

               Every morning you collect the records he leaves and every night you can’t help but forgive him bit by bit. His flowers and records make your mornings worthwhile; his soft voice and songs, a lullaby that you start to anticipate in the night. Jimin does his routine religiously night after night and it wasn’t long before you find your heart softening to him again, opening up for him so easily even when you didn’t want to.  There’s no use to deny the fluttering of your heart anymore because as nights go by, you already find yourself gathering up your courage to open the door and finally let him back in.

               For twelve nights, Jimin’s routine doesn’t fail. In the latter six nights, you’re by the door, practicing what to say. You plan to just throw open the door once you finally sorted out everything you want to say. However, that plan immediately goes down the drain because of one Monday night, the 14th night of Jimin’s supposed routine.

               “Hi Y/N. I know it’s late but….I have to say something important. I…I won’t be able to stop by for the next few days. We’re having our comeback tomorrow and soon after, promotions will require us to go overseas. I just came because I hope you’ll open the door by now and at least show me your face. Doesn’t matter if you throw the door close to my face the second after you show your  face. I just want to see you real bad. It would be long before I can see you again and I…I miss you. I miss you so much, Y/N. So can you please open the door? Because…I know you’ve already forgiven me.”

               Your body freezes and before you know it, your feet are pounding hard on your floor towards your door. The millisecond you tear open your door, you barely whisper, “Ho-How did you know that?!”

               Jimin stands in front of you, eyes wide. His hair is still bleached blonde like the last time you saw him, his gentle eyes still the same. He looked better than the last time you saw him, healthier. But unlike your expectations, there’s no vase and record this time. It’s just him and his flowers–a bouquet of pansies and sunflowers in his hands. Tears well up in your eyes and your lips tremble. But before you can say anything, he answers your question. “I–I can hear your thoughts.”

                “W-what?” Your jaw falls open. Oh my God.

               Jimin opens his mouth. “Oh my God.”

               Your forehead furrows. What the fuck, is he copying me?

               Jimin shrugs. “What the fuck, is he copying me?”              

               What the hell –“H-how did you know what I’m thinking? Wha-what–”

               “It’s my soulmate system,” Jimin looks into your eyes and your body goes rigid in shock. Jimin bites his lip. “I lied about soulbond being my soulmate system because…I don’t want to scare you that night that I practically already knew everything about you before I even met you. That I purposely went to Marti’s Hub just to get a glimpse of you when I knew you’re going to that bar to cry over your Law 114 essay and I just happened to be near that area. And that how I came to your rescue was not perfectly a coincidence, but intentional because I heard your…mental cries of help.”

               “The-then what about the-the daffodil ring?” You point to his left hand and Jimin breathes shakily.

               “This ring wasn’t because of your soulmate system…or mine,” he admits. “Remember that time when you’re fifteen and you thought about how romantic it will be to have a daffodil bloom inked around your ring finger instead of a wedding ring? I thought about that a lot until I can’t think about anything else. All I knew is that I have to own a permanent mark of you on my body because it felt wrong not to be tied to you in some way when you already own every part of me. I have a daffodil inked on my ring finger because,” he trails off and looks into your eyes. “What’s the meaning of the yellow daffodils?”

               You’re the only one.

               “You’re the only one,” Jimin breathes out. You felt your tears trailing down your cheeks and Jimin’s thumb wipes them away. He keeps his hand on your cheek and you look up into his eyes, into his eyes that reflect nothing but you. One second is all it takes for your defense to crumble down and fall. Fall into Jimin’s arms, fall into him again, letting him hold everything that you are–your strengths, burdens, weaknesses–everything.

               “B-but what about y-your parents?” you choke, “The-the soulbond–”

               “They’re true,” Jimin says, firm. “Excluding my soulbond soulmate system, everything I told you that night is true. My parents, my stories, my wishes, my intentions, my ‘I love you’–they’re true. All of them.”

               You tremble in his arms and Jimin holds you tighter. It is right then you decide to finally deal with your fears. “H-how can you be so sure, Jimin? How can we make this work? I-I’ve only known about you in one night.”

               “That’s not quite true,” Jimin chuckles. “You’ve known about me since 2013. I know I caught your eye the instant I showed up in the screen with the cringey snapback, trying hard to swag with cheap gold chains on my neck.”

               “But what about me? You only knew me i-in one night…”

               “Not true too.” Jimin cups your face in his hands. “I told you, I can hear your thoughts. I’ve been hearing them since you were born–all that you did, all the things you liked, all the people you disliked–I’ve already known you since I started hearing you. Hearing the minutest details of your thoughts for over so many years is enough for me to know about you.” He breathes out, smiling. “Enough for me to know my soulmate already loved me before she even meet me. And I want her to know I already felt the same before I even saw her.”

               Before you can say anything else, Jimin leans over and presses his soft lips against yours. It’s gentle, intimate–a delicate touch that conveys nothing but love. You make a noise of surprise but you already know you’ll be melting in his touch within mere seconds. You know because your cheeks feel warm and your chest flutters in joy. You know because everything about the night suddenly feels right. You know because even if you haven’t said it aloud, Jimin knows what he said is true.

               When you part, you’re greeted with his soft smile and gentle eyes that you love so much. And right then, you know that even if it scares you, you’ll have to say everything in your heart aloud. What’s let out in the open air cannot be undone anymore and you have no plans of taking back the words you will utter.

               “I love you, Jimin.”

               Jimin smiles and beams back, warm and bright. “And I won’t get tired telling you I love you, too, Y/N.”

               Standing there on your doorstep, as the world slowly turns around you, you think it’s finally time that you accept the tale of the red string of fate is more than just a fairytale for everyone else but you. Because right in front of you, is your own happy ending. And, you’re sure, even in another universe, you will relive that night you met Jimin again and again if it will grant you what you have now in your arms: love.

               You don’t need to glance at your glowing daffodil ring to prove that you’re right.

Epilogue

                As you touch your red-stained lips with one final dab, your voicemail beeps. Your free hand presses your telephone to hear the call you missed since you’ve been out of your house the whole day.

               “Hi Y/N. It’s mom. I…I wanted to tell you this in person but it would be a while before my bus reaches your place. I just…I just want to say that your father met up with me two weeks ago and…yesterday, we decided to give us another chance. I’m sorry I’m only telling you this when I always felt I should have said this way back before: the soulmate phenomenon works and I’m so sorry we caused you to distrust it and lose hope in love. I know we’re not the best parents out there, but Y/N, I want you to know that you are loved and someone out there made by the heavens and destined by fate will love you more and make you happier than we ever could. This soulmate thing–it works as long as you give it a chance and work hard too to make it work. We will be there at your place tomorrow with your father…We missed a lot about you these recent two weeks…especially your father, and I hope we can catch up. Always take care, Y/N. Mom and dad loves you.”

                   “You ready, Y/N?”

                  You turn to your boyfriend, smiling. “Yeah, Jimin, I’m done.” You grab your purse and take Jimin’s open hand, giggling when he presses a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

                   Smirking, you said, “You really know now how to kiss me without smearing my lipstick.”

                   Jimin looks at you, grinning, “Of course, I won’t ruin your perfect makeup. You made yourself pretty for our date tonight.” He leans to the crook of your ear and whispers, “Unless…you want me to do now what I have in mind for us later in the night.”

                  You cringe at him but Jimin probably already knows his words have affected you because you already feel your cheeks starting to heat up. “Ah, you’re so cute. I love teasing you,” Jimin chuckles as he interlocks your hand with his. When you step out of your home, you glance back to your telephone and then to your daffodil ring, glowing faintly. Smiling, you close your door.

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Thank you for reading this 2nd long-ass oneshot I made after Translucent Fireworks! The inspiration from this fic came from one of the requests in my Songs to Read Playlist:

3 minutes of listening to I was Made for Loving You and one eureka moment are all it took for me to plot this story in detail from start to finish.Thus, I decided then to make this a full oneshot, and now, I am drained and tired after finishing this. This has sucked the lifeblood out of me as this kept me busy for one whole f*cking month and next week is all I have left of my summer break before uni starts hell again. But hey, at least I made up my lack of activity to you hons with lots of wordcount! Thank you for appreciating my works and I hope you all stick with me longer as I have a lot of upcoming works in store for you!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.i

[astronomicalterror]

NOTE - THIS CHARACTER IS A WORK IN PROGRESS; ACTUAL BIO COMING OUT WHEN IM NOT EXHAUSTED FROM WORK.

)▬▬ BASIC INFO ▬▬(

• Name: Stevie A. Nicks

• Nicknames and Aliases: Anna, Savannah

• Species: Human

• Powers: Stand- Junkhead

• Alignment: True Neutral

• Date of Birth: December 13th

• Gender: Female

• Hometown: Tokyo, Japan

• Relatives: Unnamed Father [DECEASED; Died from Brain Cancer], Unnamed Mother [DECEASED; Murdered]

• Occupation: Shipping Company Owner [Former], Gambler [Currently]

• Equipment: Sewing Scissors and Thread

• Status: Alive

▪︎ Part 3 - Age : 33

▪︎ Part 4 - Age : 45

▪︎ Part 5 - Age : 47

▪︎ Part 6 - 56

▪︎ Stand Name - Junkhead

▪︎ Stand Power - Red String Manipulation: User can create, shape and manipulate the red string of fate, an invisible conceptual string that bonds souls together. They can create an limitless amount of red strings and extend them at any distance and the strings never tear apart, as it is practically indestructible. They can make the red strings become visible and touchable for others, and also choose to apply changes to anyone's soul, and as well control the relationship of those bonded by the strings, or even completely remove their bond.

▪︎ Stand Stats

Power - A [Not "Attack" wise; This is catered to the effectiveness of Junkhead]

Speed - D

Range - D

Durability - C

Precision - A

Potential - B

▬▬ PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION ▬▬

Height: 5’7’’

Weight: 152 LBs

Body Shape: Hourglass

Natural Hair Color: Platinum Blonde

Dyed Hair Color: N/A

Eye Color: Blue

Ethnicity: Japanese American

Skin Tone: Porcelain

▬▬ PSYCHOLOGIC DESCRIPTION ▬▬

Personality Type: The Commander (ENTJ)

Personality Type Description: Commanders are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. However, Commanders are also characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves. Perhaps it is best that they make up only three percent of the population, lest they overwhelm the timider and sensitive personality types that make up much of the rest of the world – but we have Commanders to thank for many of the businesses and institutions we take for granted every day.

If there’s anything Commanders love, it’s a good challenge, big or small, and they firmly believe that given enough time and resources, they can achieve any goal. This quality makes people with the Commander personality type brilliant entrepreneurs, and their ability to think strategically and hold a long-term focus while executing each step of their plans with determination and precision makes them powerful business leaders. This determination is often a self-fulfilling prophecy, as Commanders push their goals through with sheer willpower where others might give up and move on

Personality Trait Strengths:

Efficient – Commanders see inefficiency not just as a problem in its own right, but as something that pulls time and energy away from all their future goals, an elaborate sabotage consisting of irrationality and laziness. People with the Commander personality type will root out such behavior wherever they go.

Energetic – Rather than finding this process taxing Commanders are energized by it, genuinely enjoying leading their teams forward as they implement their plans and goals.

Self-Confident – Commanders couldn’t do this if they were plagued by self-doubt – they trust their abilities, make known their opinions, and believe in their capacities as leaders.

Strong-Willed – Nor do they give up when the going gets tough – Commander personalities strive to achieve their goals, but really nothing is quite as satisfying to them as rising to the challenge of each obstacle in their run to the finish line.

Strategic Thinkers – Commanders exemplify the difference between moment-to-moment crisis management and navigating the challenges and steps of a bigger plan, and are known for examining every angle of a problem and not just resolving momentary issues, but moving the whole project forward with their solutions.

Charismatic and Inspiring – These qualities combine to create individuals who are able to inspire and invigorate others, who people actually want to be their leaders, and this in turn helps Commanders to accomplish their often ambitious goals that could never be finished alone.

Personality Trait Weaknesses:

Stubborn and Dominant – Sometimes all this confidence and willpower can go too far, and Commanders are all too capable of digging in their heels, trying to win every single debate and pushing their vision, and theirs alone.

Intolerant – “It’s my way or the highway” – People with the Commander personality type are notoriously unsupportive of any idea that distracts from their primary goals, and even more so of ideas based on emotional considerations. Commanders won’t hesitate a second to make that fact clear to those around them.

Impatient – Some people need more time to think than others, an intolerable delay to quick-thinking Commanders. They may misinterpret contemplation as stupidity or disinterest in their haste, a terrible mistake for a leader to make.

Arrogant – Commander personalities respect quick thoughts and firm convictions, their own qualities, and look down on those who don’t match up. This relationship is a challenge for most other personality types who are perhaps not timid in their own right, but will seem so beside overbearing Commanders.

Poor Handling of Emotions – All this bluster, alongside the assumed supremacy of rationalism, makes Commanders distant from their own emotional expression and sometimes downright scornful of others’. People with this personality type often trample others’ feelings, inadvertently hurting their partners and friends, especially in emotionally charged situations.

Cold and Ruthless – Their obsession with efficiency and unwavering belief in the merits of rationalism, especially professionally, makes Commanders incredibly insensitive in pursuing their goals, dismissing personal circumstances, sensitivities, and preferences as irrational and irrelevant.

Personality Type in Relationships:

As in other areas of their lives, Commanders approach dating and relationships with a set of goals and a plan to achieve them, and proceed to do so with impressive energy and enthusiasm. People with the Commander personality type are in it to win, and will gladly take leading roles in relationships from the start, assuming personal responsibility for how smoothly things go and working actively to ensure a mutually rewarding experience. Romantic relationships are a serious business, and Commanders are in it for the long haul. This sense of personal responsibility means that Commanders put a lot of energy into their relationships, and they show their creativity by always having something new on the agenda to keep things interesting, especially in the dating phase. At the same time though, Commander personalities keep their eyes on the long term, and if they determine that a relationship is heading towards a dead end, they will cut their losses and move on in what will seem to their partner an abrupt end to the attention they had been receiving.

Personality Stats:

Mind (This trait determines how we interact with our environment.): 56% Extraverted, 44% Introverted

Energy (This trait shows where we direct our mental energy.): 69% Intuitive, 31% Observant

Nature (This trait determines how we make decisions and cope with emotions.): 40% Feeling, 60% Thinking

Tactics (This trait reflects our approach to work, planning and decision-making.): 60% Judging, 40% Prospecting

Identity (This trait underpins all others, showing how confident we are in our abilities and decisions.): 75% Turbulent, 25% Assertive

▬▬ Story ▬▬

My father was also a respectable man. A archeologist. And I, a archeologists' eldest daughter and heir. He not only owned a shipping company, he was a close relative of a government official, who was called upon when aid was needed, and also cared for the museum in Osaka-- where we were often stayed at in the summer. As his heir, I was expected to learn much and so, I had my own private tutor that lived with us.

When summer came to pass, we went back Tokyo. In Tokyo, I saw these lovely things... these paintings. I fell in love with their design, and took up the hobby of Ukiyo-e painting. I practiced and practiced, giving father small gifts every once in awhile. He made it even more clear that I should not interact with the outside world all too often, as he did not know I was honing this new-found skill for the purpose I had intended to use it for.

He did however, notice I had begun training my eye for the paint right after passing through the marketplace on multiple occasions, wondering and dreading with his beloved daughter would whip up next. I could see things you wouldn't believe; Red strings connected to every little thing with little dates etched into them... For as long as I could remember, I could see everything of this nature just dangling freely for me and only me to take. I treasured these moments the most, this innocence in my abilities.

I can remember everything so vividly down to an exact date and exact time in which my marriage that lasted a month or so, was quick to fall apart. I had just gotten into the gambling scene heavily at 25 years old and, undoubtedly so, I had made friends as well as enemies; It was no secret I was a rich mans daughter and heir that simply had too much time and cash on their hands to blow it all so I became a center of attention. What few had tried approaching me in Hope's of romantic interest, did so in groups, only interested in my cash or my body; Everyone except for him, or so I thought.

He was charming, handsome even, and he was like a god in my eyes for he made me feel special and loved... So when he proposed, I thought nothing of it and accepted him into my heart immediately. He was eager and I was nervous. The time spent before our marriage was a month long and I had-- at the time-- no idea why. I loved him and he loved me, so why wait? By the end of that month we had waited... we married in Denmark.

The chapel was empty on my side, so his friends (and only ‘friends’ showed up) had spread out evenly. I was not accustomed to this practice, and so we had to go over it a few times... I probably frustrated them. I would find out, much later than I would have liked, exactly why he wanted to wait sooo badly~.

My body, it was on the floor and it was oh so limp. I could feel it, suffocation as blood clogged every airway possible. So limp, yet I mustered the strength to write one thing in hoping--praying!-- that I wasn’t alone. That he would be discovered. That I could be saved.

‘Him’

“Oh trust me... no one is going to find you.”

With that, that dutch bastard left me to die alone, gagging on my blood. And the fool had the audacity to step over me as I was in the process of drowning in my own pool of blood and puke on the floor in the bedroom, blood slipping between my fingers from the wounds peppering my stomach and face. Before leaving through the door, he stoked a flame to his pipe... and smiled down at me “Thanks for the inhe.....”

I can remember blacking out and, somehow, by some miracle, I was alive; My ribs were cracked, left hand fractured and I had various damage to my face from the blunt object which he had chosen to bludgeon me with but... I was alive. It stirred something in me, like I had cheated the inevitable when in actuality a friend of his hand stopped by to drop off a box of camping supplies...

He planned to break my bones and stuff me in a trunk to better hide me in the nearby woods easier.

MORE TO BE ADDED

[canyonroads]

Hello, I found you in the FTM tag. I'm asking a few people this. I think I might be trans ftm but I dont know how to go about exploring this idea without coming out. What if I'm wrong?? I'm very lost. Any advice you can give thank you.

Hello there!

I cant speak on any universal experience because there isnt one, but I'll tell you a little bit about how it went for me.

I was 20 when I first started wondering if I was trans, and I also found myself in the FTM and HRT tags on tumblr and instagram. Looking through pics and transitions, I found myself overwhelmed with a foreign emotion that I couldnt articulate and I was crying. Does this sound anything like how you feel?

I knew I couldnt really explore that where I was at the time. I was in a small intolerant town, surrounded by friends who I knew would be mildly transphobic at best and possibly violent at worst (many of them were cis men I had dated/had sex with who would feel personally victimized if I came out as a man). I started making the moves necessary to move out of my small town. This isnt necessary, or possible, for everyone obviously. But I want you to think: is it safe for me to explore this? How can I make it safer for me to explore this?

When I did move to a bigger city, I got a cool accepting job (i was very lucky and i work in a very notoriously accepting field; social work) and was lucky enough to find some queer roommates and became friends with their queer friends. I tested the waters a little, here where it was safe to. I knew that if I tried this out and found out it wasnt for me, these were people who were cool with self exploration.

I cut my hair off. I wore less makeup. I started dressing more gender neutral and dipping my toe in the more masculine side of clothing.

Here's some pics from around that time. This was probably about a year after I had that first meltdown in the FtM tag.

I asked my roommate at the time if she could start referring to me with he/him pronouns which she switched to immediately. I bought a binder, which was truly life changing. The summer after I turned 22 I told most of my friends, including the girl who would become my girlfriend that summer. Even a lot of my friends from back home, a fair few of whom would indeed stop talking to me afterwards. But many many surprised me and accepted this fully.

I had a gender-neutral nickname of my birth name I had been using most of my life, so I didnt change my name quite yet. I knew at this point I was definately transgender. I had some dysphoria (mostly around my chest that was hard to distinguish from like... general 'women hate their bodies' vibes) but the euphoria was really how I knew. It felt very right. I shaved my head, started binding and mascing up full time, definitely went over the top and overcompensated a bit.

I came out to my parents I believe that winter, but they had been having their suspicions. They struggled with pronouns but they do their best. My dad had a really tough time with it, and actually invited me to a few sessions of therapy with him so we could work through it. Hes been great ever since. He actually INSISTED that I change my name, and asked if he could pick out my new one. We went with Avery.

I started testosterone that next Spring, came out at work when my voice first started changing. That was awful and scary as hell but went as good as it can possibly go, I think. My advice here is to just know your rights regarding nondiscrimination in the workplace, and dont be afraid to tell HR and supervisors if someone refuses to use your new pronouns. Someone at my job got fired for a few reasons, but one of which was that she wouldnt use my correct pronouns. :~)

Dont get too caught up in the "am I really trans?" question. I'm a big advocator for the fact you dont need dysphoria necessarily to be transgender. Wanting to be a man is a symptom of being a man. If you're looking at trans men and you feel like crying- you might be a man.

Even if stuff like this does end up being a phase for you, I think we should allow people to have as many phases as they want to have in this life. Self exploration is the pinnacle of existence. I have dabbled in literally every letter of the LGBTQ+ identity spectrum and I probably will continue all my life to play around in the queer identity.

Try to be authentic to yourself. Be very observant: what feels good? What feels bad? Do what feels the best. Find safe people in your life to talk to this about. Change your name. Change it again. Change it 100 times if you need to. Cut your hair, or dont. Immerse yourself in a queer community online or in real life. Explore. That's okay.

[luthorcorporated]

DEBATER PERSONALITY (ENTJ, -A/-T)

The Debater personality type is the ultimate devil’s advocate, thriving on the process of shredding arguments and beliefs and letting the ribbons drift in the wind for all to see. Debaters don’t do this because they are trying to achieve some deeper purpose or strategic goal, but for the simple reason that it’s fun. No one loves the process of mental sparring more than Debaters, as it gives them a chance to exercise their effortlessly quick wit, broad accumulated knowledge base, and capacity for connecting disparate ideas to prove their points.

Playing the devil’s advocate helps people with the Debater personality type to not only develop a better sense of others’ reasoning, but a better understanding of opposing ideas – since Debaters are the ones arguing them.

STRENGTHS

Efficient – ENTJs see inefficiency not just as a problem in its own right, but as something that pulls time and energy away from all their future goals, elaborate sabotage consisting of irrationality and laziness. People with the ENTJ personality type will root out such behaviour wherever they go.

Energetic – Rather than finding this process taxing ENTJs are energized by it, genuinely enjoying leading their teams forward as they implement their plans and goals.

Self-Confident – ENTJs couldn’t do this if they were plagued by self-doubt – they trust their abilities, make known their opinions, and believe in their capacities as leaders.

Strong-Willed – Nor do they give up when the going gets tough – ENTJ personalities strive to achieve their goals, but really nothing is quite as satisfying to them as rising to the challenge of each obstacle in their run to the finish line.

Strategic Thinkers – ENTJs exemplify the difference between moment-to-moment crisis management and navigating the challenges and steps of a bigger plan, and are known for examining every angle of a problem and not just resolving momentary issues, but moving the whole project forward with their solutions.

Charismatic and Inspiring – These qualities combine to create individuals who are able to inspire and invigorate others, who people actually want to be their leaders, and this in turn helps ENTJs to accomplish their often ambitious goals that could never be finished alone.

WEAKNESSES

Stubborn and Dominant – Sometimes all this confidence and willpower can go too far, and ENTJs are all too capable of digging in their heels, trying to win every single debate and pushing their vision, and theirs alone.

Intolerant – "It’s my way or the highway" – People with the ENTJ personality type are notoriously unsupportive of any idea that distracts from their primary goals, and even more so of ideas based on emotional considerations. ENTJs won’t hesitate a second to make that fact clear to those around them.

Impatient – Some people need more time to think than others, an intolerable delay to quick-thinking ENTJs. They may misinterpret contemplation as stupidity or disinterest in their haste, a terrible mistake for a leader to make.

Arrogant – ENTJ personalities respect quick thoughts and firm convictions, their own qualities, and look down on those who don’t match up. This relationship is a challenge for most other personality types who are perhaps not timid in their own right, but will seem so beside overbearing ENTJs.

Poor Handling of Emotions – All this bluster, alongside the assumed supremacy of rationalism, makes ENTJs distant from their own emotional expression and sometimes downright scornful of others’. People with this personality type often trample others’ feelings, inadvertently hurting their partners and friends, especially in emotionally charged situations.

Cold and Ruthless – Their obsession with efficiency and unwavering belief in the merits of rationalism, especially professionally, makes ENTJs incredibly insensitive in pursuing their goals, dismissing personal circumstances, sensitivities, and preferences as irrational and irrelevant.

tagged by: no one i just found this quiz lmao tagging: @americanasitgets @luthortm @lackspraise

[krokodile]

i was embarrassed that i was doing this until i google image searched the ponies and had to wade through endless fetish porn to find these normal pictures.

applejack - 

house: hufflepuff

wand: holly, unicorn core, 12 1/4 in, rigid

Holly is one of the rarer kinds of wand woods; traditionally considered protective, it works most happily for those who may need help overcoming a tendency to anger and impetuosity. At the same time, holly wands often choose owners who are engaged in some dangerous and often spiritual quest. Holly is one of those woods that varies most dramatically in performance depending on the wand core, and it is a notoriously difficult wood to team with phoenix feather, as the wood’s volatility conflicts strangely with the phoenix’s detachment. In the unusual event of such a pairing finding its ideal match, however, nothing and nobody should stand in their way.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing. - garrick ollivander

patronus: black and white cat

Also known as a “tuxedo cat,” this is a cat of not necessarily its own breed, but its own coloration. While they may be of any breed, these “jellicle” cats are known to be talkative, active, and intelligent! Some are even known to be “dog-like”! Dementors had better watch out for these jellicle cats!  - mugglenet

fluttershy - 

house: hufflepuff

wand: beech, unicorn core, 11 1/4 in, slightly yielding

The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Such wizards and witches, having obtained a beech wand without having been suitably matched (yet coveting this most desirable, richly hued and highly prized wand wood), have often presented themselves at the homes of learned wandmakers such as myself, demanding to know the reason for their handsome wand’s lack of power. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.  - garrick ollivander

patronus: st. bernard 

Despite its large and intimidating size, the St. Bernard is known to be kind, loving, and gentle. Great with families and very loyal, the St. Bernard will always be by your side. They are quick to protect family members who may be in danger and often act as a guardian for those around them. Strong and powerful due to their size, the St. Bernard will fight off Dementors and stand by you, come what may.  - mugglenet

Those with this patronus are playful and bright in character. To cast this patronus takes a large and loyal heart.

People with this Patronus are typically thoughtful and committed. Once they pledge allegiance to someone, those who cast the st Bernard show true commitment to friends, family and lovers. Ever thoughtful, those who cast this patronus can seem in their own world.

Those who cast the St Bernard are very positive and emotional, often warm and bright. Those with the St Bernard can sometimes be hurt easily by others but more often than not, offer a ray of sunshine in a dark world.

Often adventurous, conjurers of this patronus are always looking for fun. Often following a quest all of their own.

This patronus is most commonly found in Hufflepuff but also common in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It is unusual but possible for this patronus to be in Slytherin. - patronusmeaning.tumblr.com

rarity - 

house: gryffindor

wand: elm, unicorn core, 11 3/4 in, quite bendy

The unfounded belief that only pure-bloods can produce magic from elm wands was undoubtedly started by some elm wand owner seeking to prove his own blood credentials, for I have known perfect matches of elm wands who are Muggle-borns. The truth is that elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands (which, again, makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure-blood philosophy).

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing. - garrick ollivander

patronus: lynx 

The lynx is a solitary wild cat. They hunt alone, using their great sense of hearing and their stealth to move through the forests without being seen by either their prey or those who may be watching. When they do strike, they are fast enough to even catch snowshoe hares. Dementors won’t know what hit them!  - mugglenet

[glozirina]

FF was friends with Verlaine and Zola, published in major Parisian magazines, coined the term “neo-impressionism”, but in the political sense was an implacable anarchist. This meant that he was preparing the explosion of the restaurant "Fuaye" on the street Tournon. The explosion was supposed to lift into the air and mix all the food and drinks in flight, contrary to the culinary rules adopted in the capital, and then equalize expensive dishes with the bourgeois bastard that usually consumed them. For this explosion, FF thought up to hide the bomb in a flower pot, and disguise it to disguise it with a flowering hyacinth. Aphoristic humor + no mimicry + vampire pallor + short light coat + mefistofelskaya beard = FF went out of the house in the morning, lifted his hat, smiling at the two spies who waited for him opposite, and then went to the editorial office or the salon, and in the evening to the theater or a date. The police "outdoor" pursued him all day, almost always, and he called the agents "my retinue", showing them to his women and friends with a cane. He was followed as a dangerous anarchist disguised as an art critic. He even pulled into the anarchist affairs of the famous artist Maximilien Luce, who, under the influence of FF, began to make evil drawings for revolutionary newspapers. Meanwhile, in Paris, then the explosions thundered. Ravachol blew up the judge, the officers ’barracks and the prosecutor general, Vaillant blew up the Bourbon palace with deputies, Henri blew up the glamorous Terminus restaurant, and Powells was going to blow up the Magdalen church, but the bomb worked right in his hands. FF watched all this and calmly prepared his explosion. He was friends with Henri (who blew up the glamorous restaurant) and it was he who was desperate to be a bomber who left his political testament, which FF will publish in many years. FF considered the explosion of Henri "the most anarchist", because "the voter is guilty of everything that happens, much more than the elect." The restaurant is the main target. It was the 1890s! When the FF was searched, in addition to the sketches of Seurat, drafts of a book about the poetic innovation of Rambo (“Illumination”) and Lotreamon (“Songs of Maldoror”), they also found 12 detonators suitable for improvised bombs. After that, FF was immediately arrested and sent to prison in the case of the "thirty anarchists." He refused to communicate with the investigation without reference to anything. During the process he openly sneered at the judge: - How do you explain the fact that famous anarchists stayed at your house? - I explain this by the fact that not everyone has the money to rent an apartment! Mallarme came to court and spoke fervently in defense of FF. The jury acquitted FF for the lack of evidence, but the police continued to follow him for a long time. “Any event fits in three lines” - he liked to tell young reporters, becoming an editor in a daily newspaper. And later he became the director of the gallery, in which he exhibited Rodin, Matisse, Italian futurists and customs officer Rousseau. Actually, the most famous group photo of the founders of futurism (five leaders) was taken at the entrance to its gallery in 1912. Everyone in Paris knew that FF had impeccable taste and an excellent sense of the new. When he became an old man, he flatly refused to write or at least dictate his memoirs (Polan was ready to write everything down for him). Personal glory seemed to him intolerably vulgar and burdensome. In his last years, he handed out to the guests priceless paintings, which many have gathered for his long life. But these canvases were given only to those who managed to make PF laugh, and this rarely happened. After death, the wife sold what was left of the collection and established an award for the most notorious literary avant-gardists. It was received by Rob-Grillet and Philip Solers. Signac portrayed FF as an illusionist in a circus. Toulouse Lautrec painted his examining dancer. Vallotton showed him writing in the editorial office. And Maximilien Luce (who was also imprisoned for a short while as a result of anarchist activity) was left by the most famous graphic portrait of FF. See these pictures in the comments. -Alexey Tzvetkov https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10155947384138596&id=535718595

[blueeyesspitfire]

Where We've Been

There was still snow on the ground for my last blog entry, so I guess it's time for some updates. Summer has arrived to the North Country, and this year, it doesn't want to leave. Along with warm temperatures, we've had more rain than I've ever experienced anywhere, I think. It rained so much, I didn't water my garden for most of July and August. The mosquitoes are absolutely thriving, which makes being outside almost intolerable—unless you're covered head to toe. Not ideal for hot and muggy days.

Back in May, the dog van's transmission started giving me trouble on a visit to New Jersey. I brought it to a local specialist (shout out to Robbin's Transmission) and while it took a few months, I have it back now and it's driving great. I didn't get to take as many trips down to New Jersey, like I had hoped, but I did manage to spend Labor Day weekend with friends and family there.

My garden was a big success this year. I somehow ended up with about a dozen squash and zucchini plants (I swear I planted cucumbers, too, but none materialized) which spawned my "free veggie cart" idea. Growing my own food and sharing it has brought me a sense of community that was sorely needed, especially in these "Trying Times". I'm still getting tomatoes, peppers, and kale almost every day, but the bulk of the garden has run its course.

Last Christmas, I received a better canning system from my sister and her fiance, along with a vacuum sealer and a food dehydrator from my parents. Even with giving away a bunch of vegetables, I still have a surplus, so preservation is in full swing. My freezer is stocked with vacuum sealed  zucchini, squash, carrots, string beans, snap peas, and sweet corn. I've got canned beets, peppers, and pickles in the pantry. I've dehydrated some peppers and tomatoes with varying degrees of success.

I only got a handful of potatoes from my grow bag experiment; I think next year I'll try another method. I grew six lovely pumpkins and a bunch of bird house gourds. It always seems when I plant a variety pack, I ultimately end up with mostly one thing, but I did get a single speckled swan neck gourd and some other weird green thing. Next year, I need to stagger my planting so I have the pumpkins and gourds later. I'm hoping they'll last until October, though. The wild blackberries didn't do well this year, it seems they preferred last year's drought to this summer's monsoon weather. When my parents visited, we picked about a jar full that I'll use for pancakes and smoothies.

We lost the other ISA Brown chicken (Cheese, of the Macaroni and Cheese duo) this summer. I noticed she stopped laying and had a few symptoms of various possible issues. I attempted to treat her and she was still eating and evading me up until her last day. I suspect she may have had cancer, which is common in high egg producing breeds. Since her sister died of heart failure (best guess) before reaching maturity, I suspect that whole brood was genetically compromised.

Oh, that reminds me, I don't think I mentioned the two new chickens that joined the flock this spring. I picked up Bread and Butter, a pair of Easter Eggers, from a farm about an hour away. After losing Macaroni, I knew I wanted another big-sized egg layer to join the flock (PJ and Jean lay tiny eggs and not very often). It's recommended to introduce at least two birds, as a singleton may get harassed, so I got two cream colored ladies who lay beautiful green and blue eggs. They integrated with the flock without much fuss, and have been happy and healthy ever since. Morticia and Frosty have been reliable layers, PJ is as cute as ever, and Jean has been "broody"; she needs to be moved from the nesting boxes pretty regularly. Poor thing just wants to be a mom!

As for the dogs, it’s been a long off season. Atlas, fitting his namesake, has grown to be my biggest Siberian—and he’s only 9-months-old. So far he’s been a delightful pup, able to keep up with my more dominant dogs but doesn’t start trouble and knows when to surrender. He had his first few runs in harness last month, and as expected, he’s a total natural.

Willow has had an interesting summer. I noticed she was losing chunks of hair (more than the usual summer coat blow), mainly around her neck and shoulders. Upon further investigation, I found skin irritation right where I had applied Advantix a day prior. I took her to the vet, and the best we could figure was that she developed a new allergy to the topical preventative and from there, developed a little infection. I’m sure her thick fur and the humid weather made a perfect breeding ground for whatever was going on, though it never seemed to bother her.

I spent the next two weeks or so giving her topical and oral antibiotics, along with a few medicated baths which she tolerated but very much loathed. Her skin cleared up, but then a new weird thing started happening. She would have these little episodes, usually at bed time, where she’d pant heavily and wouldn’t settle. They freaked me out, which seemed to only make her worse. One night I almost brought her to the emergency vet all the way in Ithaca, I was so worried. Except the moment I got the leash out, she became her usual happy-go-lucky, perky self. After a midnight walk around our trail, she did finally relax.

My vet ran lots of tests on her, but everything came back perfectly healthy and normal. Diagnosis was another guess, but we think it was a combination of anxiety (she had these episodes when we went upstairs, where the bath is) along with some gastric distress. She’s a notoriously fussy eater, and while on the antibiotic, she was even less enthusiastic about meals. I now have her on one or two Famotidine (Pepcid) pills a day, which seems to be helping with her acid belly issues.

I’ve also dealt with a couple fights between the dogs this off season. Everyone is luckily OK, but I’ve learned that adding more dogs means scaling and changing our existing procedures (this is a very project manager-y way to explain it). For example, I won’t release all ten dogs into the large play yard anymore. There are too many personality dynamics and opportunities for problems to pop up. I’m also enforcing strict crate rules whenever there’s food around (human or dog), to avoid resource related aggression. The learning continues.

Looking forward, our 2021-2022 season is just now beginning, and there are still a lot of unknowns. We’re still in a pandemic, but with vaccines available, races and events are being scheduled. There are some other challenges we’ll be working around as well, but I’ll write more on that later.

For now, happy end of summer, and cheers to the best time of year.

[acsversace-news]

Are you watching The Assassination of Gianni Versace on FX? The series is the second in the American Crime Story anthology, the folks who brought you The People versus OJ Simpson. It's based on the book Vulgar Favors by Maureen Orth about Andrew Cunanan's murderous spree in 1997 that ended in the shooting of the famous designer on the steps of his Miami mansion.

With openly gay Hollywood producer Ryan Murphy (executive producer, known for creating Nip/Tuck, Glee, Feud, and American Horror Story, among others) at the helm, The Assassination of Gianni Versace is sensational. Truly, it causes all the sensations. It's super gay. It's got fabulous '90s Versace fashions. It's violent, bloody, and disturbing. It's a little bit sexy (as sexy as you can be in a series about a spree killer) with a soupcon of nudity and a smidge of S&M. There are drugs, nightclubs, models, and hot military guys. It's got an amazing cast, starring Darren Criss as Cunanan, Penelope Cruz savagely portraying Donatella Versace, Ricky Martin as Versace's partner Antonio, and Edgar Ramirez -- who looks and acts so much like the real Versace that it's spooky -- and featuring performers such as Judith Light, Mike Farrell, Finn Wittrock, and Broadway's Annaleigh Ashford. The plot contrasts the pampered opulence of Versace's privileged life with the underbelly creepiness of Cunanan and his development from a pathetic, disillusioned liar into a deranged, notorious killer. It's fantastic, delicious television.

The show also includes a very powerful HIV storyline. Gianni Versace is revealed as being HIV positive at a time in history when homophobia and AIDS panic were rampant. Not only is Versace portrayed as HIV positive, he is shown to be at times so weak from advanced sickness that he needs help even to walk. Then, in later scenes, he's shown to be recovered after (presumably) being put on antiretroviral therapy, which became available in the mid-1990s.

After his recovery, Versace decides to use his new lease on life not only to continue creating fashions but also to come out as gay at a time when not many celebrities were brave enough to do so.

"I was sick, but I didn't die," he says in Episode 5 of the show. "I have a second chance. It's a miracle that I'm alive. And yet, I ask myself every day, what have I done to deserve this? Why am I still here? To be afraid? No. I'm alive, and I must use it."

The Assassination of Gianni Versace might be the first major media movie or television show to present a person sick with advanced HIV infection and then recovered and vibrant due to the miracle of HIV medications. This is an amazing and important landmark for HIV in film/television, and the storyline is told with a lot of respect for those of us living with the virus. By exploring other aspects of the AIDS crisis and its implications in the aftermath of Versace's murder, the series shows in living color what it was like to be living in the good ol' bad ol' '90s.

I had a phone conversation with award-winning executive producer Brad Simpson and screenwriter and author Tom Rob Smith about the production, the creative process, and the decision to use HIV in the storyline.

Charles Sanchez: Why do you think it's important to tell this story about Andrew Cunanan and Gianni Versace at this time?

Brad Simpson: This story, in a lot of ways, was a journey through the politics of gay identity and what it meant to be out in the 1990s. The 1990s being this volatile time -- even though it's still volatile for a lot of people -- of the Defense of Marriage Act, and Don't Ask, Don't Tell, and celebrities starting to come out, and the sort of shift and also the transformation with AIDS drugs that happened and a generation of activists who'd been politicized by the AIDS crisis, all intersecting in this decade -- and it felt like, you know, for us, true crime is bigger than just a murder. It really felt to us like there was something to be said about the 1990s and about where we are today, by telling this story.

Tom Rob Smith: [Cunanan] is very unusual. One of the things we've confronted is that people are talking about him as being a serial killer, and that's just simply not the case. This is someone who didn't have a pathology of violence. He wasn't committing arson or sexual assault, all of the early warning signals that you have with lots of serial killers. This is someone that, if you had jumped back and met him at age 20, and said, "You're going to be a killer," he would have found it impossible to believe. Exploring him presents lots of challenges, and ... it was very interesting to contrast [Versace] as someone who creates, as someone who is curious about the world, and someone who experienced intolerance and managed to navigate around it, with Cunanan, who just seemed to be defeated by it.

Simpson: Gianni Versace was one of the few people who were celebrities who were out [as gay] in the 1990s. It was actually shocking to us. We went back to make a list of who was out pre-Ellen [DeGeneres] coming out, and the list is 5, 6, 7 famous people? No fashion designers.

I think this is a show that only Ryan Murphy could get on the air. Because I like to think that we're incredibly advanced, but the show is deeply gay and touches on things that you haven't seen dealt with on TV before. There's a freedom that Ryan's success gives to allow us to tell a story like this.

Sanchez: Speaking of things we've never seen before, I think it's the first time I've ever seen [on film], from an HIV standpoint, a person with HIV, sick and near death, turning around and becoming miraculously better through medications. What was the process of deciding how to tell that part of the story?

Smith: The reason we told that ... it was just very powerful that Versace was very sick in '93-'94 when his symptoms became severe, and it's debated by the family, so I should put it in as a caveat that the family, they dispute this, but ...

Sanchez: I believe in the book it says that, publicly, he had cancer.

Smith: Yeah, that's right. I think they say "ear cancer," and we know that is infamous [as code for HIV]. But we do know that he was very sick in '93-'94, that he was on the brink of death, that is uncontested, and we know that he was refusing to submit to this illness. And that he would walk, still, when he was very sick, from his house in Miami to that news kiosk; he would go with Antonio [his partner], and he'd be so weak that Antonio would have to carry the magazines back. I thought it was a remarkably powerful structure [for the script] to have that walk contrasted with the walk when he's then fully recovered. And he is then, in '97 [when he's shot], walking to that newsstand, not needing anyone's help. He's full of the joy of life in many ways. This medication gave him a rejuvenation.

And it was a great life force, you know, [Versace] was saying: "I want to live, I have so much more to give. I have so much more work, but also in terms of the people I love, my grandchildren, my family. I'm going to cling on to life for as long as I can." And this new wave of medication came along, and he was saved.

Simpson: There's something bittersweet about the fact that he thought he was going to die and had been given this new lease on life. There was this generation of men who thought they had a death sentence and then were slowly realizing maybe they didn't. He was starting to create again, and right at that moment, his life was taken away.

There were rumors that ran at the time, the hysteria after Versace was killed, there were these rumors spread by the media and some nefarious friends of Andrew that Versace gave Andrew AIDS and this was a revenge murder, and this is a widely held belief that is actually still held by a lot of people. It was revealed in Andrew's autopsy that he was actually HIV negative. It was a narrative that was out there and one that we wanted to correct with the show: The evil murderer was actually not the one who had AIDS; it was the victim.

Sanchez: What do you think the responsibility of the media and artists of your caliber is in telling stories about HIV in the modern world?

Smith: It's hard to come up with a generalized formula for it. I think you have to react to the nature of the period and the people involved. In the '80s, the stories were horrific. It's very hard to go into the '80s and find stories that weren't heartbreaking. And so, if you were telling that story, I don't see how you could put a demand that somehow people be upbeat about it.

The responsibility just comes from looking at the truth of it and not landing on what appears to be an easy explanation. I think that's both wrong and offensive.

Simpson: Ryan, you know, obviously did The Normal Heart. We had a lot of conversation in terms of how to portray the AIDS-related illnesses. We're adapting Maureen's book, and this is her position that, you know, [Versace] was positive. We felt that to not portray that would be to play into the stigma that still surrounds HIV to this day.

Sanchez: Speaking of stigma, I wanted to ask you about that. You and Nina Jacobson [Simpson's producing partner] were on NPR at the end of January, and you both stated [while talking about the series] that HIV stigma was no longer prevalent. Then, two prominent HIV bloggers [Josh Robbins and Mark S. King] called you out on it on social media. I'd be remiss if I didn't ask you about it.

Simpson: Yeah, yeah, of course. I mean, I feel horrible about it. On radio, unlike an interview like this, you're like racing through it and trying to be compact in your answers. I did not say want I meant to say. That's not an excuse; it's just an explanation.

We talked about this a lot in terms of how to talk about Versace's HIV status. One of the conversations we had, we felt that were we to ignore our belief in that status and Maureen's beliefs on that status, then we would be playing into the very stigma that we're all trying to get rid of, that we would be reifying the stigma and shame of living with HIV by denying that part of a character. What I meant to say was that we didn't want to play into the stigma of having HIV. What I ended up saying was that there is no stigma to having HIV today. I don't believe that at all!

I'm not going to pretend that I know what it's like to live with HIV or how complicated it is to decide how public to be about your status with partners, with friends, with family, or how to navigate the health care system. That's something that I can't know, that I can only hear about. But obviously, or maybe not obviously, I'm sorry that I misspoke, and I regret it. Of course, I know that there's a large and unfortunate stigma to having HIV, still, in so many ways.

Smith: One of the reasons we wanted to do this [show] is to attack the stigma. This stigma is so wrong, and it's so corrosive. It still exists today; we're not just talking about something that is historic. We talk [on the show] about the idea that you could build a company that's worth billions of dollars, be a fashion icon, and that it could be reduced to having no value simply by the factor of an HIV diagnosis. That isn't an exaggeration. It seems to me to be a real injustice.

Yet, when you look at Gianni Versace's words, you know, to me it was code. I can't declare for sure what he was saying, but when he says in the '90s after he recovers from the most severe symptoms, "I'm not going to live my life filled with regret and shame anymore," to me, that's him saying: "I've recovered, and I'm not just recovered physically. I'm not going to walk around feeling terrible anymore. I'm going to live; I'm going to love." And I found that very powerful, and I really wanted to capture that.

This transcript has been lightly edited for clarity.

[hanrio-365]

ENFP

“THE CAMPAIGNER” (ENFP-A)

DIPLOMAT

PEOPLE MASTERY

98%

EXTRAVERTED

2%

72%

INTUITIVE

28%

40%

60%

FEELING

49%

51%

PROSPECTING

82%

ASSERTIVE

18%

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

The ENFP personality is a true free spirit. They are often the life of the party, but unlike Explorers, they are less interested in the sheer excitement and pleasure of the moment than they are in enjoying the social and emotional connections they make with others. Charming, independent, energetic and compassionate, the 7% of the population that they comprise can certainly be felt in any crowd.

You Can Change the World With Just an Idea!

More than just sociable people-pleasers though, ENFPs, like all their Diplomat cousins, are shaped by their Intuitive (N) quality, allowing them to read between the lines with curiosity and energy. They tend to see life as a big, complex puzzle where everything is connected – but unlike Analysts, who tend to see that puzzle as a series of systemic machinations, ENFPs see it through a prism of emotion, compassion and mysticism, and are always looking for a deeper meaning.

ENFPs are fiercely independent, and much more than stability and security, they crave creativity and freedom.

Many other types are likely to find these qualities irresistible, and if they've found a cause that sparks their imagination, ENFPs will bring an energy that oftentimes thrusts them into the spotlight, held up by their peers as a leader and a guru – but this isn't always where independence-loving ENFPs want to be. Worse still if they find themselves beset by the administrative tasks and routine maintenance that can accompany a leadership position. ENFPs' self-esteem is dependent on their ability to come up with original solutions, and they need to know that they have the freedom to be innovative – they can quickly lose patience or become dejected if they get trapped in a boring role.

Don't Lose That 'Little Spark of Madness'

Luckily, ENFPs know how to relax, and they are perfectly capable of switching from a passionate, driven idealist in the workplace to that imaginative and enthusiastic free spirit on the dance floor, often with a suddenness that can surprise even their closest friends. Being in the mix also gives them a chance to connect emotionally with others, giving them cherished insight into what motivates their friends and colleagues. They believe that everyone should take the time to recognize and express their feelings, and their empathy and sociability make that a natural conversation topic.

The ENFP personality type needs to be careful, however – if they rely too much on their intuition, assume or anticipate too much about a friend's motivations, they can misread the signals and frustrate plans that a more straightforward approach would have made simple. This kind of social stress is the bugbear that keeps harmony-focused Diplomats awake at night. ENFPs are very emotional and sensitive, and when they step on someone's toes, they both feel it.

ENFPs will spend a lot of time exploring social relationships, feelings and ideas before they find something that really rings true. But when they finally do find their place in the world, their imagination, empathy and courage are likely to produce incredible results.

MY STRENGTHS

Curious – When it comes to new ideas, ENFPs aren't interested in brooding – they want to go out and experience things, and don't hesitate to step out of their comfort zones to do so. ENFPs are imaginative and open-minded, seeing all things as part of a big, mysterious puzzle called life.

Observant – ENFPs believe that there are no irrelevant actions, that every shift in sentiment, every move and every idea is part of something bigger. To satisfy their curiosity, ENFPs try to notice all of these things, and to never miss a moment.

Energetic and Enthusiastic – As they observe, forming new connections and ideas, ENFPs won't hold their tongues – they're excited about their findings, and share them with anyone who'll listen. This infectious enthusiasm has the dual benefit of giving ENFPs a chance to make more social connections, and of giving them a new source of information and experience, as they fit their new friends' opinions into their existing ideas.

Excellent Communicators – It's a good thing that ENFPs have such strong people skills, or they'd never express these ideas. ENFPs enjoy both small talk and deep, meaningful conversations, which are just two sides of the same coin for them, and are adept at steering conversations towards their desired subjects in ways that feel completely natural and unforced.

Know How to Relax – It's not all “nature of the cosmos” discussions with ENFPs – people with this personality type know that sometimes, nothing is as important as simply having fun and experiencing life's joys. That Intuitive trait lets ENFPs know that it's time to shake things up, and these wild bursts of enthusiastic energy can surprise even their closest friends.

Very Popular and Friendly – All this adaptability and spontaneity comes together to form a person who is approachable, interesting and exciting, with a cooperative and altruistic spirit and friendly, empathetic disposition. ENFPs get along with pretty much everyone, and their circles of friends stretch far and wide.

MY WEAKNESSES

Poor Practical Skills – When it comes to conceiving ideas and starting projects, especially involving other people, ENFPs have exceptional talent. Unfortunately their skill with upkeep, administration, and follow-through on those projects struggles. Without more hands-on people to help push day-to-day things along, ENFPs' ideas are likely to remain just that – ideas.

Find it Difficult to Focus – ENFPs are natural explorers of interpersonal connections and philosophy, but this backfires when what needs to be done is that TPS report sitting right in front of them. It's hard for ENFPs to maintain interest as tasks drift towards routine, administrative matters, and away from broader concepts.

Overthink Things – ENFPs don't take things at face value – they look for underlying motives in even the simplest things. It's not uncommon for ENFPs to lose a bit of sleep asking themselves why someone did what they did, what it might mean, and what to do about it.

Get Stressed Easily – All this overthinking isn't just for their own benefit – ENFPs, especially Turbulent ones, are very sensitive, and care deeply about others' feelings. A consequence of their popularity is that others often look to them for guidance and help, which takes time, and it's easy to see why ENFPs sometimes get overwhelmed, especially when they can't say yes to every request.

Highly Emotional – While emotional expression is healthy and natural, with ENFPs even viewing it as a core part of their identity, it can come out strongly enough to cause problems for this personality type. Particularly when under stress, criticism or conflict, ENFPs can experience emotional bursts that are counter-productive at best.

Independent to a Fault – ENFPs loathe being micromanaged and restrained by heavy-handed rules – they want to be seen as highly independent masters of their own fates, even possessors of an altruistic wisdom that goes beyond draconian law. The challenge for ENFPs is that they live in a world of checks and balances, a pill they are not happy to swallow.

ENFP IN THE WORKPLACE

There are two basic things that ENFPs seek most in the workplace: The chance to explore new ideas, and the chance to conduct that exploration alongside other people who share their excitement. These qualities show through at all levels of hierarchy, though much like other Diplomat personality types, ENFPs would prefer that there be hardly a hierarchy at all. People with the ENFP personality type possess warmth, creativity, and an open-mindedness that makes them excellent listeners. If these qualities are recognized by their employers, they will always be able to count on their ENFP employees to innovate and boost morale.

ENFP Subordinates

ENFPs are growth-oriented, and as subordinates they'll impress their managers with their creativity and adaptability. People with the ENFP personality type are excellent listeners, able to analyze and understand others' perspectives effortlessly. It's perhaps this quality that most makes ENFPs intolerant of micromanagement – the way they see it, they understand what's been asked of them, and all they require is the freedom to accomplish their task. If this need isn't met, managers may find a quickly stressed ENFP subordinate.

To a certain extent though, some direct management is often necessary, as ENFPs are notorious for letting their attention slip from one project to the next before they've dotted their I's and crossed their T's. ENFPs love exploring new ideas and learning new things, and once something becomes familiar, its allure starts to fade. But, if managers are able to maintain a spirit of guidance and camaraderie instead of "bossiness", they will find loyal and devoted contributors in their ENFP subordinates.

ENFP Colleagues

ENFPs are people-people, and as far as the workplace is concerned, this quality shows through best among colleagues. More than just coworkers, ENFPs view their colleagues as friends, people who they take a genuine interest in, providing support and cheer when they're down or stressed. People with the ENFP personality type are warm and optimistic, always searching for and usually finding win-win situations for everyone.

Brainstorms among equals are ENFPs' forte, and they listen to different viewpoints and suggestions not just with tolerance, but genuine excitement. Their ability to relax and have fun will always make them popular around the water cooler, but what sets ENFPs apart is that they can transition that popularity into natural leadership, instinctively picking up on colleagues' motivations and pulling their teams together, pushing them forward towards whatever truth they've been tasked to find.

ENFP Managers

ENFPs are not great fans of heavy hierarchy and bureaucracy, and this is most evident when they take on the role of manager. As managers, ENFP personalities behave much like they do as colleagues – they establish real friendships, and use their broad popularity to inspire and motivate, taking on the role of leader, working alongside their subordinates, rather than shouting from behind their desks. ENFPs will tend to believe in the concept of intrinsic motivation, the idea that things are worth doing for their own sake, not because of some convoluted system of punishments and rewards.

Unfortunately, not everyone buys into this philosophy – challenges arise when faced with subordinates who actually prefer to be closely directed, with clearly defined objectives and timetables, people who are just doing their jobs. More challenging still are those rare moments when a reprimand is simply necessary – while ENFPs prefer to meet dissent with an open ear, and to use their excellent capacity for sensing mood and morale to preempt such an act to begin with, sometimes the carrot and the stick are necessary, and using them is the biggest challenge for the ENFP personality type. But ENFPs' capacity for adjusting their communication to most any style will always shine through, helping to smooth things over and adapt to the needs of their team

6. CAREER PATHS

ENFP CAREERS

“Can't I fly helicopters AND be an oceanographer who writes songs and cooks?” It's a big world out there – perhaps even a little too big. ENFPs are fascinated by new ideas, both in terms of developments in fields they are already familiar with, and when new subjects come along. The trick for people with the ENFP personality type is to take advantage of this quality, this wonder with the magnificent breadth and detail in the world, and to use it to propel themselves further and deeper than others are willing or able to go.

If there's a challenge ENFPs face when selecting a career, it isn't that they lack talent or options or drive, it's that there are so many things out there that are just cool.

The Opening of a Door Can Be a Wonderfully Joyous Moment

Chief among ENFPs' talents is their people skills, a quality that is even more valuable now than ever. Even in traditional Analyst strongholds like engineering, systems analysis and the sciences, ENFPs' ability to network and match the communication styles of their audience means that even as they explore new challenges on their own, they will be able to work with others, explore others' perspectives and glean new insights into their projects. Much of modern progress stems from incorporating other studies into typically disassociated fields, and no one is better equipped to merge broad interests than talented, energetic and future-minded ENFPs.

And while Thinking types may be better at applying logic to systems and machines, people with the ENFP personality type are able to apply that same logic to human interactions and networks, using their exceptional social perception to find out what makes people tick. This lends ENFPs a solid foothold in any human science or service, from psychology, counseling and teaching to politics, diplomacy and detective work. All of these fields have another important similarity: they are in constant development, shifting, presenting new angles and new approaches. It's simply not possible to be good in these fields and content with the way things are, and this is where ENFPs truly shine.

Too Many Bosses, Too Few Workers

Where ENFPs do not shine is in systems of strict regimentation and hierarchy, such as military service. ENFPs thrive on the ability to question the status quo and explore the alternatives, and if this is a quality that is not just unappreciated but actually frowned upon, this will not only make them unhappy, but it may even threaten their emotional stability. Repetition, predictability, boredom… while some Sentinel types may appreciate predictability and clear hierarchies, these are not selling points for ENFPs. People with the ENFP personality type need to feel like they're pushing boundaries and exploring ideas, and should focus on interests and careers that encourage that.

Many more career options satisfy these needs, and not just the scientific ones – writing, journalism, acting and TV reporting all give ENFPs a chance to explore something new every day and stir the pot a little while they're at it. It may come to pass though, that the best way forward for ENFP personalities is to establish themselves as entrepreneurs and consultants, blazing their own trails and taking on whatever project is most fascinating. So long as they get to use their people skills, identify and achieve their own goals and inspire their colleagues and followers, ENFPs will be happy.

ENFP PARENTS

If there is anything that makes ENFPs great parents, it's the sense of wonder they have for all things new and beautiful, a sense that they will be able to share with their children every day as they learn and grow. Throughout their children's lives, ENFPs provide a combination of almost overwhelming love and support, and an unstructured environment revolving around freedom and creativity. This in no way means that people with the ENFP personality type will simply leave their children to their own devices without guidance – rather, ENFP parents want to share in their children's perspective, share in a world without bounds.

ENFP parents are playful and warm, and love to see their children excited, playing in and experimenting with the world around them. It is likely that ENFP parents will encourage this play and growth by suggesting activities and lessons.

ENFPs will embrace and encourage productive interests as they arise, sweeping away dolls and dinosaurs when interests shift to the oceans, and sweeping away the fish when tastes change again, to the stars.

While they often enough recognize the value of structure and predictability, ENFP parents are unlikely to have the heart (or as they may see it, the lack of heart) to establish these limitations themselves. They may need to depend on their partners to provide some necessary guidelines and discipline from time to time, but ENFP parents will always have the advantage of their open-minded and empathetic nature, making them not just parents, but friends who their children feel comfortable confiding in. They needn't always depend on their children broaching the subject either, as ENFPs have a natural skill in spotting emotional disharmony or physical discomfort in others.

Go On, Spread Your Wings

As their children approach the teenage years, all this emotion and attention can start to cloy, and their children may seek a more private independence. This can be a challenge for people with the ENFP personality type – they have strong emotions, and invest those emotions heavily in the things and people they care about. While they may not be big on using proven ideas, ENFPs do like to see whether or not their ideas work, and this applies to their thoughts on parenting, too. As their adolescent children withdraw, they leave an unsolved mystery that can last for years, leaving their ENFP parents wondering if their ideas on raising their children actually work, actually result in happy, independent and creative adults.

Luckily for them, so long as they raise their children with a sense of productive independence, rather than an aimless, against-the-grain antipathy, ENFPs will find that their children have developed a strong sense of self and self-worth, going confidently out into the big, wide world at their own pace and in their own style, knowing that they have both themselves and their ENFP parents to depend on.

ENFP FRIENDS

As friends, ENFPs are cheerful and supportive, always sharing and developing ideas, and staying open-minded, taking in others' thoughts and feelings. This warmth and sincerity makes people with the ENFP personality type masters of drawing people out of their shells, and as a result they tend to have a huge circle of friends.

As with other relationships, ENFPs view their friendships as opportunities to experience another angle of the universe, and tend to imbue potential friendships with that weighty and idealistic quality.

An Exciting Adventure

More outgoing types will naturally gravitate towards them, but ENFPs will also go to great lengths and be surprisingly persistent in their efforts to get to know more reserved personalities. Their ability to tune into others and speak their language with that characteristic infectious enthusiasm helps them in this endeavor, and the allure of mystery that reserved types, especially Introverted Intuitives, bring to the table will keep ENFPs intrigued for years. These personality types may never be able to reciprocate the breadth of human interest that ENFPs present, but they do appreciate ENFPs' efforts.

But ENFPs' interest in others can be a double-edged sword – this pure idealism comes with certain expectations, and too often ENFPs hold their friends in an unrealistic light, expecting them to keep up with the constant flow of ideas and experiences that they consider integral to life. ENFPs put their whole hearts into their friendships, and it can come as a shock for them to find that their friends aren't the flawless Titans that they believed them to be. Whether it's simple social fatigue or a focus on the physical and the practical instead of the mystical, people with the ENFP personality type can find themselves disappointed by what they see as a lack of substance beneath the surface.

ENFPs tend to get deeply involved in others' lives, going to great lengths and efforts to be the selfless, caring and supportive people they are, and all the while forget to take care of themselves. Both in terms of basic needs like financial stability and rest, as well as more emotional needs like mutual understanding and reciprocation, ENFP personalities tend to give much more of themselves than most are even capable of giving back. This sort of imbalance isn't sustainable, as (seemingly) one-sided generosity often leads to criticism and resentment on both sides.

Making Life Spectacular

Luckily, ENFPs are open-minded and sincere enough in their friendships, and connect with and understand even their acquaintances well enough, that they recognize that not everyone expresses themselves in the same ways, and that that's okay. Their sensitivity may make it too challenging to play with more critical and argumentative personalities, such as strongly expressed Thinking (T) and Judging (J) types, but they do appreciate, even cherish, the company of most anyone who appreciates theirs, and the adventures and experiences they have together are the stuff a good life is made of.

ENFP RELATIONSHIPS

When it comes to relationships, there's hardly anyone around who is more excited than ENFPs to share with their partners the bounty of ideas and eye-opening experiences that life has to offer. For people with the ENFP personality type, relationships are a joyous process of mutual exploration and imagination, a chance to connect with another soul. ENFPs take their relationships seriously, and are known for their uninhibited and unshakeable devotion to the people to whom they've committed their hearts.

ENFPs have the advantage of irresistible charm when it comes to attracting a partner – ENFPs' warmth, excitement and passion are simply alluring.

In the dating phase, if ENFPs can be said to tolerate such a formal process to begin with, they will show these qualities by showering their new flames with affection, and will do everything they can to build a strong relationship by demonstrating their devotion and reliability by whatever means available.

You Cannot Live Without a Fire

Long-distance relationships are quite common among ENFPs, as they view physical distance as just another idea, no match for concepts like love. This gives them the chance to demonstrate their commitment, both by staying true despite the physical separation, and with overtures of effort to surprise their partners, crossing that distance on a whim. These are demonstrations of ENFPs' mystery, idealism and deep emotion, and such efforts often keep the flames of a relationship burning bright.

People with the ENFP personality type express these ideals sexually as well, exploring the physical with imagination and passion, viewing these times together as a chance to let their feelings for each other shine, sharing their love and affection. ENFPs will willingly experiment with their partners, even early in a relationship, but they can also be oddly perfectionistic, believing that these physical acts are a representation of their deeper love, and as such should not be performed carelessly. This perfectionism is also a reflection of their sensitivity, their desire to not disappoint, and ENFPs appreciate a well-placed compliment.

Not everyone can handle the excitement, occasional neediness, and emotional ups and downs that this philosophy entails, whether long-distance or long-term, mystical or physical. ENFPs constantly explore new ideas and improvements, fantasize about future possibilities – in dating, this tendency to look at potential rather than the present can be self-defeating, and their spontaneity makes it harder to stay focused on their end goal of a long-term relationship. If their partners aren't able to reciprocate these acts of excitement and devotion, ENFPs will likely end up feeling unhappy and misunderstood.

So, You Think You Know the Real Me?

ENFPs go all-in with their relationships, and if they fall apart despite their efforts, they can end up plagued with questions about why the relationship failed and what they could have done differently – without a buoy, these thoughts can crush ENFPs' self-esteem as they sink into depression. It's important for ENFP personalities, as with anyone, to remember that relationships are in all ways mutual – mutual interest, mutual growth, and mutual responsibility – and they can't be solely accountable.

After a trial like this, ENFPs may be reluctant to open up and commit, and it can take years for a partner to navigate their bewildering depth and intensity, falsely believing that ENFPs' enthusiasm and apparent openness means that they wear everything on their sleeves. The reality is that ENFPs' spontaneity, the seeming inconsistency and erraticism the untrained eye sees, isn't a product of flightiness or lack of depth, but the opposite – it is a drive to express ideas about a mystical, all-encompassing energy, in the confines of a physical world, and underlying it all is the uniting principle of love, expressed in many different ways, but unshakeable and infinite at its core.

[sirius-archive]

I feel it coming (Sirius Black x Reader)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2325 

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol and drug use, EXTREME FLUFF???

You and the Marauders decide to go camping in the Forbidden Forrest, where fluff ensues and unresolved sexual tension between you and Sirius gets…well…resolved…sort of…

A/N: I am so proud of this? I had such a great time writing this, there may or may not be a part 2. Lemme know what you think and I may include smut in that second part. Also, lets pretend Daft Punk and The Weeknd grabbed a time turner and went back in time to the seventies so this song could play in the background while you and Sirius Black make out *grins deviously* *slinks into cave*

part two

“So it’s settled” said James Potter as he slid into the seat beside you, “Tonight at ten in the Forbidden Forest.”

You glanced at Peter, who you came down to the Great Hall for breakfast with, before blinking at your friend. 

James Potter had been a part of your life since you were six, when you moved into the mansion next door to the Potters. He had accidentally hexed your hair pink so you avenged your magenta locks by using the bat bogey hex. Since then, the two of you were inseparable. He could be intolerable, compassionate, dorky, amusing and loyal all at once yet he still managed to surprise you.

“God, Prongs,” you murmured, “you’re making it sound as though you’re going to kidnap someone,”

“Well, I am,” his grin broadened, “I’ll kidnap you if you don’t come with us…”

“I can’t decide if I should be worried or amused…or both” You smiled, shaking your head at James.

“How about petrified?” said a new voice, one you recognized as Remus Lupin, who stole the seat opposite you, “I know I am and I’m not the one Prongs will kidnap…”

Naturally, you were friends with whoever James was friends with, and that included the notorious Marauders. The five of you were like a family, stalking the hallways of Hogwarts with all sorts of pranks up your sleeves. You greeted Remus with a smile and he returned a weary one.

“Come on (Y/N),” James whined, “It’s not a party without you…”

“Party? What party?” said Sirius Black, taking a seat on the other side of you, “You’re not planning something without me, are you? Because we all know that would be a mistake…”

You rolled your eyes. “Sirius, it may come as a surprise to you that the whole world does not revolve around you,”

Sirius feigned shock. “Way to crush a person’s dream, (Y/N). You know, you should write poetry…”

You laughed and, at the sound, Sirius grinned. You missed the glitter in his eye that appeared whenever you laughed.

“We’re trying to convince Vixxey here to join us tonight in the Forbidden Forest,” Peter explained.

‘Vixxey’ was the nickname they gave you after you discovered that your animagus form was a vixen, or a female fox.

“And why exactly should I give up the luxury of a soft, warm bed to gallivant with you idiots in the Forbidden Forest?” You smirked.

“Because there will be fire whiskey,” said James, “and another illegal substance that you will thoroughly enjoy…”

“So we’ll be gallivanting in the Forbidden Forest which, I might add, is full of monsters and dangerously territorial centaurs, completely and utterly stoned?”

“I’m excited already,” said Sirius.

You shook your head. “I’m sorry boys but I’m going to have to decline.”

“Why?” Sirius whined, pouting.

“I think Vixxey made that quite clear already, Padfoot…” said Remus, dryly.

You smirked smugly. You liked teasing the boys. It just proved how much they adored you.

“What if we brought food along with us?” Peter propositioned.

“Food, you say?” You leaned forward, “Now I’m interested.”

“Well, yes. I mean, it wouldn’t be a party without food!”

“Peter Pettigrew, I like the way you think,” you said with a grin and Peter beamed.

“As if we’d go camping without food, Vix,” said James, defensively.

“You never said we would be going camping…” you said.

“Well, what did you expect us to do?”

“I really don’t know now do I?”

“So, are you coming?” Sirius interrupted, stealing your attention immediately.

You sighed. They were hard to resist. But the truth was, you had already made up your mind from the moment this conversation started. You smiled at your boys as they eagerly awaited your response and concluded that you could never say no to them. Ever.

“Well who am I to turn down free food?” you grinned, shoveling a mouthful of porridge into your mouth.

Sirius beamed.

“Ouch, Padfoot, you stepped on my foot!”

“Sorry Vix, you’re just so tiny…”

“Shut up!”

You shuffled across the grounds, moving slowly beneath James’s invisibility cloak. The boys were now too tall for the invisibility cloak to cover the four of them, so James had to cart you in pairs. You were sandwiched between James and Sirius as you held your wand out in front of you for light.

“For Merlins’ sake, are we nearly there yet?” you grumbled, “Sirius’ elbow is nearly poking my eye out!”

“Well aren’t you being fussy, little one,” chortled Sirius, “You do realize how many girls would kill to be this close to me…”

“Yeah, and half of them already have,” you snapped.

“You know, that actually really hurts my feelings,” Sirius retorted in mock offense, “Calling me a man-whore and expecting me to be offended…”

“Well, she has a point,” James smirked

“Shut up, Prongs, you’re just as bad.”

“No, he’s worse,” you piped up, “He sleeps around with every girl he sees and then wonders why Lily Evans still hates him…” James began to protest but Sirius snorted.

“This is true.”

“Evans doesn’t hate me, in fact, she’s still warming up to me…”

“Yeah, she seemed really keen the other day when she barked at you for bullying that fifth year…”

“He was ogling at you! He was practically undressing you with his eyes!”  

“I’m with Prongs on that one,” said Sirius, “that guy was just a creep. Someone needed to bite his face off before he got any ideas…”

“So what if he was ogling me?” you protested, shrilly, “I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Besides, he can look but he can’t touch.”

“We’re nearly there,” James interjected, squinting through the fabric of the cloak.

The three of you clambered across the forest floor for a few more minutes until James suddenly threw the invisibility cloak off you. You were greeted by the sight of Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin attempting to erect a tent.

“No, Moony, the stick thingy goes in here!”

“Out of the two of us, who has actually been camping before?”

“I’m afraid Moony has a point, Wormtail.” you grinned at the boys and Remus beamed while Peter’s expression contorted, disgruntled. “Anyway, what can I do?”

“Maybe collect some firewood?” suggested Remus as he poked the peg into the ground.

“Sir yes sir,” you mocked, grinning at your best friend. He rolled his eyes though a wry smile was playing on his lips.

“I’ll go with Vixxey” said Sirius and before you could say anything else, Sirius was dragging you further into the Forbidden Forest.

You both trudged your way through the forest in contented silence, listening to the distant argument between Remus, James and Peter.

“Merlin I shouldn’t have left those three on their own…” you murmured and Sirius chortled. Your cheeks warmed at the sound and you felt yourself wondering why his laugh affected you so.

“Hey, look at it from the bright side – if they kill each other, it means more food for us…”

You laughed, your heart fluttering like petals in a summer breeze. Sirius always had a way of bringing the humor out of life, and you truly valued him for doing so. When you were with him, you felt as though you could forget the world and all its problems.

“Why didn’t we think of this earlier then? Could you imagine all the food we could have saved by ditching James, Remus and Peter and running off into the forest?”

“I like the sound of that. Like a romantic escapade?”

Something warm bled through your ribcage and spread across your chest, trickling down your spine in a way you had never felt before. Heat rushed to your cheeks, blossoming like roses beneath your skin. You suddenly felt breathless.

“Yeah,” you smiled, avoiding eye contact with Sirius, “Though I don’t think Joanne would like the idea of that…”

“Kendall,” corrected Sirius, “though you were close…”

“Whatever. I still don’t like her…”

“You don’t like her or you like me?” Sirius asked, boldly staring into your eyes  

You raised an eyebrow. So, the player wants to play now, does he? You smirked. Shock value could knock Sirius’ engorged ego down a few levels. You chose your battles carefully, and this time you knew you had already won.

“Both,” you confessed loudly with a steady voice, “I don’t like Ashley and I fancy you,”

The look on Sirius’ face helped you decide that you quite enjoyed flirting with the devil.

“(Y/N), would you stop hogging all the blankets?” said Sirius, tugging on the third blanket you had wrapped around you, “You’re small! You don’t need that many!”

“I’m freezing,” you hissed, “This was a bad idea.”

“No it wasn’t,” James slurred, defensively. His disheveled hair and rosy cheeks made him look adorable in the flickering, amber light of the fire.

“Well, then, C’mhere little one,” Sirius murmured, pulling you onto his lap. You shrieked and laughed gleefully as he wrapped his arms around you and you settled into his lap.

It was Remus who told the first scary campfire story about the ghost of a wicked witch that haunted a muggle chapel. James, Peter and Sirius all took turns with their stories and you wondered how they managed to read these stories and sleep at night.

The horror stories mixed with the fire whiskey and the sheer fact that you were camping in the Forbidden Forest was a deadly concoction and you found yourself jumping at every little noise.

“Shh, little one, it’s okay. I’ll protect you,” murmured Sirius, pressing his cheek to your shoulder and holding you tighter. You ignored the heat that was tickling your cheeks.

James, however, never misses a moment, even if he’s completely drunk and stoned. A crooked grin split across his face. “Moony, look! Pads finally admitted his love for Vixxey!” 

He turned to you “Is that why you took so long to get ‘firewood?’ You’re even wearing his sweater!”

If drunk James was obnoxious, stoned James was downright pathetic. You rolled your eyes.

“Stop being childish and hand over the fire whiskey!”

“You didn’t answer my question…” James waggled his eyebrows, “So did you or did you not snag – ha, I just made up a new word!” He beamed proudly, “Shag crossed with snog! Snag!”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh. He seemed surprisingly composed for someone who had drank an entire bottle of fire whiskey. Sirius snorted and Peter laughed hysterically.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” Peter laughed, clutching his sides. He fell backward onto his back and, a moment later, loud snores erupted from his lips. Remus rolled his eyes.

“That idiot has no idea how to hold his liquor…”

“This is ridiculous.” You grumbled, standing up and snatching the marshmallows from James’s side. You tossed a bag to Remus and Sirius and marched back to your spot between the two of them.

“So, did you snag-?”

“No,” you snipped, “Sirius and I did not…snag…. (James giggled childishly), snag is already a word, you did not make it up, and this is your sweater!”

James stopped giggling and leaned in closer, squinting at the sweater in question. “Oh, right. Have we ever snagged?”

“No!” you scoffed. “and can we stop talking about this? It’s killing the mood.”

“I’m killing the mood!” countered James, “wait….”

“I’ll let you think on that one.”

“You gotta admit though,” Sirius began, leaning in closer to you, “You like the idea of snagging with me, don’t you?”

“I like the idea,” you admitted, “But I don’t think I could ever have enough fire whiskey in my system to snag my best friend…”

Remus laughed and you started. For a moment, you had forgotten he was even there.

“You just got turned down by Vixxey!” Remus teased and Sirius scowled, “and on that glorious note, I am going to bed…”

Remus pecked the crown of your head before staggering into the tent and collapsing onto the mattress.

“You’re killing the mood!” cried James, quite suddenly.

“Jackpot,” Sirius exclaimed, earning himself a chortle from you.

It was a full hour before James finally decided he was too drunk and high to participate in an adult conversation, and he scrambled to his feet, swayed dangerously toward the tent and crumpled in front of it.

“So close,” Sirius observed, staring at the now snoring James Potter.

“He’ll be right,” you noted, and Sirius turned back toward you.

“Were you being, y’know, serious before when you said you fancied me?”

You turned in his lap so you could face him. “Did you want me to be serious?”

“Vix…”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out now…”

“(Y/N) …”

All words escaped you. Sirius rarely said your name with such desperation. It almost sounded as though he wanted you to like him. You glanced down at his lips and then to his eyes. Oh how they shined for you… 

“How about I show you how serious I was being…” you whispered and before he could reply, you captured his soft lips with your own.

He tasted like fire whiskey and Honeyduke’s finest. He tasted like freedom and rebellion. He tasted like home, and you decided you couldn’t get enough of the way his lips moved against yours like nectar, the way he sucked the air out of your lungs as though he were a dying man, the way his hands relaxed on your hips as you straddled his lap. He tasted like sin and you decided that you’d gladly burn in hell if it was forbidden to kiss Sirius Black.

When you parted for air, Sirius pressed your foreheads together and sighed against your lips. He was perfect in this very moment; grey eyes blown wide with pure lust and desire, soft lips parted and swollen and begging to be kissed. He was simply beautiful, more beautiful than any constellation you had ever traced with your eyes.

“I’m not high, y’know,” he finally said, breathless, “I quite fancy you too, even if you’re tiny.”

DID YOU SPOT MY EASTER EGG???????? anyhoo, let me know if you’d like a smutty sequel or not or if you’d like to snag sirius black or if you’d like to over indulge on s’mores…. 

[brianruhe]

Testimonials

Testimonials

apollonian Jan. 9, 2020Don’t under-estimate Brian–he’s extremely clever. And Brian is actually a brilliant historian, understands Western Christian culture and philosophy, only coming at it all from his amazing Buddhist point of view–which absolutely throws those dumb kikes who hardly know what to say, think about it all. Most and best of all, Brian values and respects the Christian TRUTH ideal (= Christ, Gosp. JOHN 14:6)–see above notes by me. Only criticism I’d have of Buddhism is its too easy endorsement of non-existent “free” will which couldn’t exist in an objective, hence determined reality, which objectivity is agreed for both Christianity and Buddhism.Poet Samuel • Jan. 7, 2020What I notice about Brian’s work – He will inquire and investigate everything for himself in pursuit of his own personal / empirical insights and conclusions. And he will happily weather everyone’s judgement and scolding for doing so – Left, right, up, down, nobody can stop or correct a born truth-seeker from annoyingly examining every stone (lol). Keep on waltzing through the tidal waves of scorn and judgement from all alliances, Brian. Truth is king.

The Brian Ruhe Show  Poet Samuel • You nailed my view, Poet Samuel! Thank you dearly. My Dresden survivor advisor describes me as a true intellectual. I just want to know the truth!

The Outsider

 My Friend Brian Ruhe by American Buddhist monk, Venerable Paññobhāsa Mahathera Posted: 16 Oct 2019 01:17 PM PDTThe purest idealism is unconsciously equivalent to the deepest knowledge. —Adolf HitlerIt is better to make a mistake than to do nothing. —Adolf Hitler My Friend Brian RuhePosted: 16 Oct 2019 01:17 PM PDT     No doubt some of you have noticed that I’ve begun doing weekly Skype interviews with the notorious Brian Ruhe, the “Nazi Buddhist,” president of the Thule Society (an organization that endorses the worship of a deified Adolf Hitler), and lord and master of the Brian Ruhe show, recently censored and banned from YouTube but still available on Bitchute. In fact some of you have started reading this blog because of seeing me on Brian’s show—after all, Herr Ruhe evidently has a larger following than I do, though that’s not saying very much. So I suppose I should explain why I am associating with such a notorious fellow, what I have learned from this association, and why I now consider him to be my friend.     Our first contact was back in 2011 or 12, and was brief and uneventful. I think in those days neither of us was fully red-pilled, so to speak, and we were more or less “normie” western Buddhists, though still rather unorthodox and weird by mainstream standards. Anyway, upon returning to the USA after many years in Asia I sent out emails to many of the teachers and Dhamma organizations in the general area (mainly the state of Washington and southern British Columbia in Canada), and in those days Brian Ruhe was a reputable, more or less mainstream Dhamma teacher. Anyway, after offering my services to any Dhamma society that was interested, Herr Ruhe wrote back saying that he was pretty much a subsistence Dhamma instructor and lacked the resources to support outside teachers, and that was that.     Several years later, after both of us had been “radicalized” by the Information Age and the Internet, a supporter of both of us suggested to Herr Ruhe that he should interview me for his show (the Brian Ruhe show, then still on YouTube), and so he contacted me. Not only did he ask me to be on his show but he further asked me to be the spiritual director of the Thule Society, which latter honor I declined for reasons laid out in a previous post. But we did the show, and it went rather well, and so we have continued with it.     No doubt there are some people out there who think that a Buddhist monk associating with a devout Nazi—or National Socialist, as Herr Ruhe prefers to call himself—is somehow necessarily inherently wrong and reprehensible. On the contrary, I don’t think so at all.     Some of Brian’s views are very different from mine, with regard to politics, the heroism of Adolf Hitler, the origin, ancient history, and current state of the human race, and also with regard to Theravada Buddhism—though ironically he is more of a scriptural fundamentalist than I am, at least with regard to cosmology and his belief in the texts’ authenticity and authority in general. So although I know the texts rather better than he does, I am also more skeptical, while Brian, bless his heart, is endowed with more of the Will to Believe. (In other words, going with the terms of Buddhist philosophy, he is more faith-oriented and I am more reason-oriented.) Regarding politics, I am not a Nazi or a fascist by any sane, non-hysterical reckoning. I see myself as more or less of a classical liberal, and consider the libertarian system set up by the founding fathers of the USA to be about the best so far devised and put to the test. The farthest I would concede to the fascists would be to say that, at this stage in the game, if I were required to choose between Marxism/socialism and some form of not-particularly-violent fascism, I’d almost certainly go with the fascists. Socialism sucks, and Marxism is historically, objectively worse than Nazism or small-f fascism in general, going with such objective criteria as numbers of corpses generated by each system.     So, although I’ve been called a Nazi sympathizer, my Nazi sympathies are very limited and conditional. I do have sympathy for Brian Ruhe though, mainly because he’s a nice guy, and a sincere one. For that matter I am willing to hold a discussion in good faith with anyone capable of a sincere and more or less courteous exchange of views. Hell, I’m even willing to have a discussion or reasoned debate with a neo-Marxist, though most of them seem too hysterical or ignorant to discuss their views rationally, especially if there is feedback from someone who disagrees with them. (Objective rationality is, after all, a tool of white patriarchal oppression.) I have been hoping to have a discussion with some advocate of politically correct Social Justice on this blog, but again, most of them are adverse to having their views challenged. But I am willing, just as Herr Ruhe also is willing.     So, a primary reason why I do weekly Skype sessions with Brian is that he is willing to converse and exchange views in good faith, even though we don’t agree on all points. We’re not overly concerned with changing each other’s views, either. And I must say that the conversations can be interesting, for us at least. Also of course the videos have increased the readership of this blog.     I mentioned that Brian is more orthodox than I am in his Buddhism, at least sometimes. He’s literally a devout Buddhist Nazi, or rather a devout Buddhist National Socialist—“Nazi” was originally a derogatory slur, and Herr Ruhe tends to avoid the term. (I persist in using the term “Nazi” simply because it’s shorter and easier, and National Socialists ought to be tough enough to hear words they don’t like very much. Besides, it’s used so much that it’s hardly any more of a slur than “National Socialist.” It’s sort of like the term “Pagan,” which also began as a slur but was later reclaimed, and even accepted with pride by faithful Pagans.) Anyway, with regard to Brian’s devout Buddhism, it is interesting that he was actually ordained as a Theravada Buddhist monk for several months back in the 90’s, in Thailand, I’m pretty sure. Later he was a more or less mainstream teacher of Buddhism and meditation in the general area of Vancouver BC, until he was red-pilled and then ostracized by intolerant or fearful leftists. So Brian is a Buddhist first and a Nazi second. He takes Buddhist ethics very seriously, including the stuff about compassion and nonviolence. He understands Dhamma better than do most western Buddhists, and probably practices it better as well.     Some people might assume, and reasonably too, that a Nazi would necessarily endorse militarism and even genocide. Nope! Brian simply denies all of it. Not only does he not endorse genocide, he firmly disbelieves the very idea that Hitler’s Nazis favored or perpetrated it; all that stuff is just propagandist lies promulgated to vilify the Führer. The Nazis were the good guys, even by Buddhist standards, according to him—there was no genocide of “subhuman” races, and Hitler was a peace-loving man, an inspired visionary who preferred designing buildings to bombing them, and who was forced into WW2 against his will by establishment warmongers spurred on by globalist Jews. Thus, among other things, Brian Ruhe is a sincere Holocaust denier. (Personally, I feel that although many of the stories against Hitler are probably exaggerated to some extent—just consider the stories against Trump lately—Hitler’s notion of Lebensraum pretty much implied an eastward invasion sooner or later, and I very much doubt that the Slavs were simply going to donate their territory to him. Also, preemptively dividing up Poland with Stalin’s USSR was certainly not persuasive evidence of his peaceful intentions, and his annexation of Czechoslovakia was an arguably predatory and shitty thing to do. But I suppose the “Hitler did nothing wrong” folks have their own explanations for all of this.)     Ironically and maybe counterintuitively, as anyone who watches his videos can see, Herr Ruhe in his actual conduct is morally superior to the hysterical leftists freaking out at him on the streets of Vancouver. Most people who walk past Brian as he peacefully holds up a sign bearing a pro-Hitler slogan (or something equally politically incorrect) just ignore him, or glance at him and continue on their way; but some people curse him to his face repeatedly, bellow at him in a state of outraged anger, hatred, and self-righteousness, and sometimes even physically assault him. No doubt they feel perfectly justified and virtuous while doing so. Brian is almost saintly in his potentially self-destructive desire to peacefully wave Nazi signs in the midst of crowds of leftist activists. It is peculiar that the lefties going hysterical at Brian are literally more intolerant and more hateful than a Nazi. Let that sink in for a moment. But not only that: I would go even farther and assert that many Social Justice leftists, possibly even most of them, are more intolerant and more hateful than a Nazi, at least this Nazi. In a recent video of Brian’s one guy actually observes that Brian Ruhe isn’t a “real” Nazi simply because he isn’t hateful enough.     Again, I assert that I am not a Nazi or a National Socialist, or even a run of the mill fascist, and I do not agree with a lot of what Brian promulgates, even though he is a nice guy and we have some interesting conversations. A good example of ideological disagreement would be our respective attitudes towards Jewish influence on western civilization. Adolf Hitler once said,The art of leadership…consists in consolidating the attention of the people against a single adversary and taking care that nothing will split up that attention….The leader of genius must have the ability to make different opponents appear as if they belong to one category.It seems plausible to me that the Führer walked his talk in this case by using Jews as the unifying adversary. No doubt he really loathed them, but still it does seem plausible that they were also a convenient political tool for unifying the militant righteous indignation of the German people. Nevertheless, Jewish influence on western civilization is much more profound than most people realize; and anyone who reads Kevin MacDonald’s The Culture of Critique is bound to become at least a little antisemitic (which is why it’s the only academic work banned by Amazon.com). Some Jews really are behind much if not most of the pernicious social phenomena running rampant throughout the postmodern west, including multiculturalism and the various forms of Marxism. The Holocaust may very well have been exaggerated (for propaganda purposes) for all I know; and with regard to Herr Ruhe’s theories about reptilian space aliens collaborating with powerful Jews, I suppose the less said the better. It seems to me that the greatest Jewish influence on western civilization was the advent of Christianity, originally a Jewish reform movement, although relatively few Goy Rights Activists place much emphasis on that particular point.     So, Brian and I disagree on some things and agree, more or less, on others. Considering that we are both Theravada Buddhists, there is naturally quite a lot of agreement on basic doctrines of Buddhism and Buddhist ethics, and I even happen to share some of his weird ideas derived from ancient Indian Buddhist cosmology.     Regardless of the objective truth or falsehood of his beliefs, Brian Ruhe’s conduct is morally superior to most of the people publicly bashing Nazism, including the outrageous hypocrites virtue signaling on cable news outlets. News announcers and commentators on pretty much all of the mainstream media pose as moral guides to the masses, yet they, unlike Brian Ruhe, are certainly not operating in good faith. These people are calmly, self-righteously, and cynically attempting to destroy anyone who threatens the narrative that they are paid to disseminate (and yes, they are paid by globalist Jews), regardless of actual guilt or innocence. For me, the mainstream leftist/globalist media’s ruthless, cynical attacks on Brett Kavanaugh were the absolute last straw; the guy is a totally vanilla, nerdy Christian white rich guy who obviously has never been a sexual predator, yet almost the entire political left in the USA were declaring him a serial rapist based on nothing but unsubstantiated accusations made by leftist activists. When he became upset and indignant at such sleazy attacks these same people cynically attacked him for being emotionally unstable. Their conduct towards the Covington High School kids, or for that matter towards President Trump, have been no better. Such “moral guides” are vastly morally inferior to the likes of Brian Ruhe the “Nazi Buddhist.” If I were ever to be interviewed by someone like Morning Joe, or Cathy Newman in the UK, they would certainly not be conducting the interview in good faith as Brian does, intent upon an actual exchange of views, and I would feel contaminated by the process. Not that they’d ever want to interview me.     As it turns out, I am one of the only monastics of Brian’s own professed religion who is willing to associate with him in public since he publicly began endorsing National Socialism. A few others are willing to communicate with him privately, but otherwise keep their distance. This is understandable, but whether this avoidance of Brian is based on missionary diplomacy, cowardice, or something else would depend on their own mental states, which I surely don’t know. Anyway, I’m no Jesus of course, but even the Christian Messiah was criticized during his lifetime for hanging out with prostitutes, tax collectors, and other unsavory riffraff.     And so, to sum it all up, Herr Brian Ruhe has got some very weird ideas (some of which may be true for all I know), but he’s a genuinely good guy, as far as I can tell. I suppose his girlfriend could describe a side of him that I haven’t seen, but then again she’s his willing consort and presumably loves him—but of course that’s none of our business.     Thus far I have enjoyed our Skype interviews, and I don’t give a damn about political correctness hysteria, so I’ll keep going with them for the foreseeable future. Brian’s Bitchute channel is here. The website for the Thule Society is here. (insert 30s-era German military music here)P.S. At Brian’s request I am including here a short video of Brian characteristically offering up a Nazi salute in the midst of a crowd of protesting lefties, while fortunately being protected by a few police officers: https://www.bitchute.com/video/Fg7mLXklitO8/?list=jAwYD9IBVY8E&randomize=false  

(insert 30s-era German military music here) You are subscribed to email updates from The Outsider. To stop receiving these emails, you may unsubscribe now.Email delivery powered by GoogleGoogle, 1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, CA 94043, United States  Previous Next  Sept. 22, 2019 Dear BrianJust wanted to shoot you a quick email to let you know how I appreciate you posting your views and interviews on “alt” dhamma. You’ve revealed to me that there are people who can benefit from sharing encouragement to strive on in this wilderness. the internet truly has great potential to reorient ourselves and bring our existing culture into focus by use of right view.After holding my own intentions under the microscope for some time, your example has encouraged me to make my own mini contribution in the spirit of friendship. So I decided to create a Bitchute channel and share the videos I’ve created for myself to encourage and inspire energy and devotion in my own practice.If you get a chance, please take a look. I am always very pleased to receive constructive criticism, thoughts and feelings by my elders in the dhamma. Please show me no mercy :).My hope in creating this channel is that we fellow wanderers can find some encouragement and inspiration to follow the buddha’s “pali line”, not the “party line” of present sectarian (special interests) dhamma.I believe it is our responsibility to implement the buddhadhamma as perfectly as possible in our individual, cultural, social and historical context. And I’ve found it helpful to start with what we have now (Western culture) and to “train” it in line with the dhamma. So I’ve been gradually “culturally appropriating” our popular movies, poetry etc and using it to develop propaganda to inspire pursuit of the dhamma. Here’s the link if you get a chance (Ministry of Cultural Appropriation)Anyway, thanks again. Your gifts, your offerings, your sacrifices, all appreciated as ever, my friend.Hope you are well!  2019-09-19 6:06 a.m., Hugo wrote:You are one of our heroes, Brian.Hugo o-d-i-n.net Molo_Tulo The Fuhuer sits in Valhalla with Wotan. He was the greatest man to walk upon Midgard! You rock, Brian! Keep up the cause!***Great video Brian! I posted the following comment…If you were wrong, someone would have debated you at length instead of people just repeatedly rejecting you and swearing like sailors. It’s very good to hear you explain the existence of the Transfer Agreement, AKA the Haavara Agreement that Hitler had with the Zionists. The Jewish author Edwin Black was one of the first to explain this in detail, and concludes that there should be a statue of Adolf Hitler in Tel Aviv because without him, no Jews would have been safely transferred to Palestine prior to the outbreak of war at the hands of the British and French.***Wow! They sure are triggered. There is no crime in standing on the street. If they can’t articulate an injured party (person) or (property), then there is no crime. Here’s some of what I’ve discovered in my search to expose the truth. In a Gallop poll in 1941, 83% of the USA was against blowing up Germany. Stay safe and thanks for the links! Peace,Robert Hiker1  Patex321 As an fellow Germanic i like to salute you for being/becoming awake!Patex321 As a german I thank you for your courage.RemelRemel Bloody hell. Good on you Brian for daring to tell the truth to the public. The guys complaining is just your typical brainwashed idiot. They can’t debate, just (((shut it down))). Funny how this idiot said you’re racist too. What a complete moron. Hitler was NOT racist.whitey333 The balls on you are enormous. Best Video I seen in forever.https://www.bitchute.com/video/sVJhWQ38k6O5/JimB Brian, you’ve got more courage than most of the big, puffed-up he-men “pumping iron” in all the gyms around the world. And patience! You’re a prime example of Buddhist tenacity.Bloody hell. Good on you Brian for daring to tell the truth to the public. The guys complaining is just your typical brainwashed idiot. They can’t debate, just (((shut it down))). Funny how this idiot said you’re racist too. What a complete moron. Hitler was NOT racist.Seekerofsanity Brian: I am new to you but really like what I have read so far. Saw the ridiculous shit that the renegade tribune wrote about you in march; pathetic slanderous lies if you ask me. Total cowardice. Look forward to more of your work!Western-Celt-UK More people need to do more of these vox pop billboard discussions in public in the big cities across the World and upload them, what a great way of getting truth across.Re_World I respect you brother, keep doing what you are doing.TheWestIsBeingDestroyed You are a patient man, Brian.aboutthetruthmedia  TheWestIsBeingDestroyedHe seems like a friendly, approachable guy.anarchore Brian needs a volunteer security detail. Maybe with matching shirts. 😀rambetterIt’s about time that people learned the Truth about Adolf Hitler. Brian, thanks for having balls.Handsome Truth 6 MILLION POINTS IN STREET CRED BRO!!!CarlSyerforest Brian Ruhe…King of Cool 

Kid_Dynamite If you keep displaying that sign I’m going to “try” to take it from you. Even that guy isn’t sure he can do it.CarlSyerforest • 4 days agoBrian Ruhe…King of CoolKid_Dynamite • 5 days agoIf you keep displaying that sign im going to “try” to take it from you. Even that guy isnt sure he can do it.−

The Brian Ruhe Show  Kid_DynamiteI told him I was taller than he was 

aboutthetruthmedia Very brave, very approachable Brian! It was good to watch. gingerj the brain washed sheep , this guy just refuses to listen and i think brian keeps his cool well, if it was me i think he would be on his way to a and e room.anarchore You rock Brian! Thanks for being a truth beacon.Jeffrey88 • 3 days agoWow! Great work standing your ground to that white knighters! That’s why I support the Brian Ruhe Show!Charley Howard I have to tell you, Brian you’re a considerably braver individual than I could ever be so hats off to you. If you wouldn’t mind a suggestion perhaps you could gently tell people about the slaughter of the Ukrainian people at the hands of the Jewish commissars prior to the outbreak of the second world war in the Soviet Union. I think they be quite interested to hear that the Jews had slaughtered far, far more Christians at the hands of their barbaric socialist system than ever were presumably killed in any kind of death camp. I doubt they’ll believe you, but perhaps in a light a fire in their mind and that will make them more inquisitive as to what the TRUE HISTORY is compared to what the Hollywood version of history that we have been fed. Once again, kudos to you for your efforts, stay safe!   longdistancerunna We should be out there with Brian. Just imagine even 100 people walking alongside these men with similar signs against 2 jew defending “heroes”. It would be very interesting to see what would happen. Do you think something similar to the Munich Police shootings of the NSDAP’s march in 1924 that landed Adolf Hitler in jail for a year? Keep in mind that is what really caught the eyes of the German people who came to realize that they were being lied to about Communism. The Nazi parties election seats grew enormously after Herr Hitler was released a year later. 

whitershadeofpale  longdistancerunna • 4 days agoFair point, but I think if it got to the stage of 100 more people,standing side by side,would get attention from the authorities. A better approach would be to have smaller break-off groups working incognito. This is a very inspiring work from Brian though all the same.Sept. 18, 2019Hi Brian,these interviews were very interesting. To his credit, Armin at least approached the discourse with some semblance of balance and was far more restrained in denying you a chance to express yourself. The other guy…not so much. These guys are either incredibly naive (and/or ignorant of factual history) or they’re willingly denying the truth, so as to fit their Marxist dogma. I believe that many Euro-Canadians, Euro-Australians, Euro-Americans etc are coming to the stark realization that the fifth column Marxists have so corrupted our media and education, that they’ve damaged our young people, way more than we care to accept. If Trump’s presidency achieves nothing else, the exposure of the true size of the Zionist inspired Communist threat, will be achievement enough.Well done with your recently published David Duke interview. Dr Duke is one of the best around at exposing criminality of the Sabbatean/Frankist “death cult” that is Rothschild Zionism.– Chaz the Advocate  On 2019-08-30 5:17 a.m., wrote:Hi Mr RuheI just wanted to let you know I really appreciate your courage to share your views and to take the initiative to interview Ven. Pannobhasa.The interviews on corruption in the sangha, alt-buddhism in the West and Mind Control I found really intriguing.Very encouraging to hear your friendly voices in this wilderness!Wishing good things for you.Thank you kindly Tristan,I am passing your message on to Venerable Pannobhasa. “Wilderness” is an excellent word to describe this world, eh?Hi Brian Amen, brother. An encouraging thought that the Wilderness is the most honest place to learn the true value of friendship. Feel free to share my gratitude, but not my name or contact details, as I am trying to tread lightly. There are snakes. 🙂 From YouTube commentsNov. 12, 2017And Roid 20 hours ago (edited)Hi Brian I’ve turned my attention to doing mediation more regularly and learning Buddhist teachings due to your influence. I think there’s a lot of suffering and lack of mindfulness among the truther community so you may be a person who’s in the right place at the right time. I honestly would probably never have heard of Ajahn Brahm and Ajahn Sona (let alone listened to Dhamma talks) for an indeterminate amount of time had I not been drawn to your interviews (I think it was the ones with Andrew Carrington Hitchcock and Dennis Fetcho that pushed me over the edge into looking into your work further). For people who love to learn and become a better person I think Buddhist teachings/practices are a great way to relieve the monotony of the “doom and gloom” content the majority of alternative media (or our personal lives even) seems to consist of. And if we feel like modern life is too much, some knowledge of existing support structures (such as forest monasteries) could be useful information.Brian Ruhe 9 hours agoWhat a testimonial, And Roid!! May I copy and paste this for others? I deeply appreciate your specific story, thanks! You make my job worth it.Oct. 2017 Alex Seferiades2 weeks agoBrian, your reverence for the German soldier brings warmth and happiness to my heart. Greetings from Ontario!! You are doing a great job covering what many are afraid to talk about but know in their innermost core to be the truth. It is most likely that you are a reincarnated official or soldier from the Third Reich era. Only you would really know that for sure though. You have my best wishes… Keep fighting the good fight! Brian Ruhe1 second agoThanks Alex! That makes my day. I was a Luftwaffe pilot killed in a crash about fall of 1944. I have discussed this in a few videos. My current girlfriend was my 13 year old daughter at that time and with her hypnosis session, she remembers far more about me than I remember. Read the full article

[usamaadel59-blog]

Once a Barrack’s Comrade, Now a Convicted Inmate.

Panopticon: A type of institutional building designed by the English philosopher and social theorist Jeremy Bentham in the late 18th century. The concept of the design is to allow all inmates of an institution to be observed by a single watchman without the inmates being able to tell whether or not they are being watched. Although it is physically impossible for the single watchman to observe all cells at once, the fact that the inmates cannot know when they are being watched means that all inmates must act as though they are watched at all times, effectively controlling their own behavior constantly.

Our watchman back then in our base unit was a retired major general in his late 60s who made it exactly like a concentration camp where we were on a constant surveillance around the clock making us straightened up all the time.

In our training camp, the worst thing back there was not the searing heat nor the cold nights. It’s the waiting. Waiting for the wind to quit blowing, for the sand to quit grinding against our skin and for sergeant Anwar to stop waking us up roaring in a war-wrecked microphone from the 30s. Waiting for a moment of privacy in a platoon packed with forty four other men, a three-hundred-soldiers brigade, in a training camp packed with 3000 others, all looking forward to the following Friday visitation’s civil meal with their friends or family. The hardest thing ever during our 58-days training was not homesickness nor the fact of being bulldozed by superiors, it’s the deployment of our mates. That sore moment when our whole company received an order to evacuate our original dorm and for the whole brigade to be gathered up in two or three lodges out of seven dorms total. The sight of our empty dorm was intolerable. Where did our friends go? How are we gonna endure the gloominess of those bitter days without their company?

Today’s call of duty is more of a submission to the obligatory summoning than a liberated sense of patriotism. Pirandello’s train passengers (the traumatized parents) were divided between opponents and proponents to that theme of patriotism. The intolerable agony parents suffer from out of losing their sons in war makes them so sick of the idea of redemption while others justify their sons’ enthusiasm being on the front fighting for the sake of their country while dying happily and inflamed.

It felt so surreal when Youssef phoned from that other side and asked about the slogan of Oceania’s English Socialist Party (INGSOC). No doubt he wanted to get one of those four dreaded walls oriented by some of those radical words. Mohamed Youssef, A private I met in our training camp. A pious guy in his mid 20s who got some of those extinct rural middle-classed ethics. We happened to be at the same battalion together with a bunch of other privates from different social classes. Joe, we call him, is an extroverted introvert who can be outgoing and thoughtful at the same time just like myself. One of those quiet guys who talks only if he got something to say, not a bullshitter. We spent over a year going through ordeals together trying to fill the quantum vacuum with those psychic civil talks every once in a while. When my dad got sick after the first 6 months, Joe took the initiative and tried to work things out in a way where I can get out the unit to frequently check on my him (May Allah forgive him and rest his soul in peace).

In military, individuals are not supposed to freely speak up their minds especially in politics. Our service happened to be a couple of years post the revolution and people since then get stigmatized based on their ideologies. One starts to recognize his pals’ personas and mindsets to have a better understanding of those sharing his one-year service, eating, sleeping, talking, and doing almost everything together.

When the service is done, we decided not to cut connections and to always keep in touch and become civil friends and we did actually meet a couple of times outside. Joe probably got some trust issues and that explains his constant ambiguity, but this guy somehow trusts me and can freely opens himself up sharing some of his personal stuff. We were soldiers for over a year and now we are eternal friends and ever will be God willing no matter what (The unbreakable bond).

One day, Atef, another brick in the wall, had me on the phone saying that he suspects something's not going well with Joe as a non-mutual friend of Joe on FB posted something weird on his profile. I went straight ahead and sent that guy a message asking about what happened to Youssef and it was a thunder strike; Joe got arrested with a bunch of his fellows with no clue what happened, where was he taken and why is that?! That news left me with a massive shock. What did that pious guy do? Now is the time for anxiety to mess with the chemistry of my brain. Not knowing anything about what happened and having no contact with any of his family members left me running around terrified. Joe and I had already arranged a hangout few weeks before that nonsense. I selfishly felt lucky that he got lazy or something and consequently we didn't meet. Who knows I might've got involved! (Instinctive Fear). I was like a chicken with its head cut off not knowing what to do and whom to inform. 

I reached out Hesham, an old friend of mine, telling him what had happened. He advised me to contact an Egyptian human-rights activist who was at that time concerned with such cases and may at least be having any information about his place by any chance. It felt the same thing when i once repulsively ran to the police station trying to help an overdosed guy i found half-dead on the roadway. Not to mention their helpfulness but he became OK after all. I messaged that guy but in vain, no reply. I carefully checked Joe's profile trying to find any informative contact. A good friend of him had been contacted with a dead hope he might be knowing anything. He told me everything. 

Youssef got busted not too long ago with roughly four of his friends from where they used to reside in Cairo. They got him with a claim of his involvement in a notorious assassination of a bad reputable statesman (Complete nonsense). How can a guy with such intact soul get himself involved in a mess like that?! Beyond a shadow of doubt, our totalitarian police system are as just as Eurasia’s, he must've done it (Bullshit).Oceania’s two-minutes-hate must be everyone’s daily ritual. They hated Emanuel Goldstein, he must’ve been a great man then. If we can do nothing about it we should at least condemn and let resentment and hatred conquer our hearts, go viral into our veins. We may involuntarily endure any act of inhumanity but we shouldn’t believe those fat lies, otherwise we are no better.

It was so cinematic the scenery of Islam and I stepping into the courtroom attending one of Youssef’s trial sessions after passing through those huge metal detectors. We hardly saw him behind those blurry bars, it was pantomimic. But the cheering of him and his mates expanded our chests for a moment. But the question here is: are they really happy as they seem? or they are just calm on the surface but not actually all the way through? I wonder how they feel now after their convictions?

When I ponder our existence in this life I always realize that we are nothing without our principles but we are something without our job, money or social status. Our intrinsic entity is abstract and that’s our quintessence. And since we are nothing but one minuscule piece in a never-ending cycle, just part of the soup of the universe we should therefore act accordingly. We are but slaves to Allah. We should properly worship Him SWT in this finite life and seek his forgiveness for all our wrongdoings.