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andromeda612 · 4 years

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Continuation...

Read part 1 here

"I-I I'm tired of this liying disease!" And the farewalls are there again.

And then her classmates look confused.

"What are you talking about?" Mylene is looking aware but less hostile than a few seconds before.

"Is a very rare condition, it makes me lie against my will, and well when in my old school my classmates found about it they started to bullying me, they were to cruel, and I was just to scared when I first come to Dupond, because I didn't want to live that hell again, so I never said anything, I know it was unfair but it was horrible and I'm still in theraphy fot that, and then Marinette discovered that I was lying and was so hostile about it and I just panicked, and it get worse when I'm under stress, and then this guy just call me out and I panicked again and just started to threw off all that ridiculous nosense and and I'm so sorry" again the liar is crying full force, the we-know-the-truth squad have to admit it, Lila is a very good actress.

Now, some of the class starts to soften, the girls the most, some still look confused but the anger is gone.

"Do you really can't help it?" Rose, sweet Rose asks looking more sympathetic

"I can't and I'm so sorry, this stupid disease had put me in too much trouble before, I just wanted to feel safe and make friends"

Rose, Mylene,Sabrina, Kim and Alya seems to buy it, the rest still look a little unsure

"You can talk to Principal Damocles, he knows about my condition, after all it was my illnes what got Marinette expelled, I'm so sorry Marinette I hope some day you can forgive me"

And with that the rest look convinced, and start to comfort her. She wins... oh boy! How WRONG she is!

Alix, Nathaniel, Marinette and Adrien look defeated, the liar gets away with no consequences again, but Marc just look unimpresed and a little bored, the game isn't over, time to his next move and Alya just give him the perfect push.

"Don't worry girl, Marinette hates liars but she didn't know that is not your fault, of course she forgives you, and she and Marc also apologize to you for making you scare, right guys?"

"I-I" Marinette doesn't know what to say, she doesn't want to apologize for something she didn't do, but she would look like the bad guy, her friends who know the truth give her worried looks, but then Marc makes his play.

"Marinette has no reason to forgive her or apologize, nor do I" his tone is calm and his demeanor is firm. His boyfriend, best friends and Adrien are surprised, Marc has some trick under the sleeve apparently.

"What? Did you not heard her? Is not her fault! Come on!" Marinette just pray that Alya would be spare of Marc's anger.

"There is not such a thing like a lying disease"

"But you heard her, is a rare condition and Principal Damocles knows about it, now you are being rude, Marc you are not like this!" Marc's patience is getting thiner and his face is showing it, he normally has a saint's patience but being in Mendeleiev's class makes you to develop a no-nosense character, and Marc is getting tired of this circus, our dear squad are at the edge knowing what a done Marc is capable of. Well most of them, Adrien honestly is getting scared, who would think that the little sunshine could be this intimidating?

"Yeah, I'm still wonder how is that Damocles bought that bullshit" every body froze, Marc never swore, even Chloe looks impresed. Marc is still speaking.

"I thought that you would try that, but honestly I wasn't expecting that you actually would use it, you are desperated, don't you?" And now he is using the silver tongue, his favorite three persons already have seen him like this, in the few ocasions that he gets this mad (insert anecdote about Marc beating the shit out of some random asshole that dared to upset Alix, you would read that once I post this on Ao3 and we get to that chapter)

The rest of the class? well, their jaws almost touch the floor, Marc, sweet and polite Marc just swore and now is being condescending?

"Wow, dude! Calm down, now you-" Nino tried to play moderator, but a single glare of a pissed off and so done Marc was enough to shut him up. The rest also winced for the glare, Was Marc always this scary? And Adrien now fears for his best bro's fate, lucky for him Lila is Marc's only target.

"Now let's get things straight, shall we? There is not a condition that makes you lie against your will, my proof? There is not a single study, academic paper, investigation or even a notice about it. And no, saying that you are the only case in the world is not excuse, quite the contrary actually, being the only case the scientific comunity would be doing lots of research about you, and you could always ask to remain anonymous, so that is not excuse either.

The only condition that involves lies is the pathological lying, but that would mean that you are aware of your lies, I'm sure Markov can confirm this with a quick research, Markov? Could you please?"

"On it!"

"Now, even if this illnes was real, that still doesn't explain the sheet answers or the necklace, or the fact that you were unharmed but somehow lying at the end of the stairs when Mari was expelled, it also doesn't explain why you were willingly let Marinette been seen as a bully just a moment before, or you were going to say that was all a big misunderstandig? Were you?" His voice is firm but calm, and his face remains stoic, Adrien can't help but think that Nathalie would be proud.

Now Lila is stunned too, this wretched boy just debunked her card to save face, and she didn't even had the chance to reply, the ravenette didn't let her say a word and every body is to nervous to try and interrumpt him.

Even Markov seems uneasy when he shyly (and even a little scared) interrumpts him.

"Eh, I just finished my research and according with the data, indeed there is not a disease that makes you lie against your will, I take some liberties and analyzed Lila's behaivor and what match with it is, as you said, pathological lying, but that means that she is aware of her actions and lies"

Just for a brief moment Marc came back to his sweet and gentile self "Thank you Markov" and then the scary and no-nosense Marc was back.

"So, Lila, that mean that you perfectly knew what you were doing when you lied to them. Care to explain?"

Lila was about to talk, already making an excuse, but Marc decided that honestly she just have one move left and it was not worth his time.

"Save it, I know, you just wanted to look cool and make friends or some garbage like that"

Well, actually yes, she was going to say something between that lines, damn it! Who is this guy?

"Well, It would be believable if not for the fact that more than friends, it seems that what you wanted were servants and admirers"

Again everybody is to shocked to intervene.

"I mean, how many times did you fake being hurt so they would carry your things, or make the hard work for you, or take your notes? How many times you said you were too busy so they would do your homework? How many times you were "broken" "because you donated all your money for that charity" so they would buy you lunch? And how many times you return that money? How many times you help them? How many times you promised them something but never kept that promise? How many times you aked them for something but never return the favor?"

Lila: So Marinette did talked to you about me! Otherwise how is that you know all of it? I have never talked to you before!

Marc: Marinette was not the one who talked to me about you, and I realized that you were a manipulative liar by myself, you are not as smart as you think. And even if it was Marinette who talked to me about your tales, is irrelevant, the fact is Are you really the person you said you were?

The rest of the class is now thoughtful, remembering inf fact all those times, and slowly realization sunk in their minds, and now their eyes are narrowed towards Lila, indeed, were they her friends or just her pwans? Is Lila the person they thought she was?

Lila is really really doomed, there is a too low posibility to get out of this that is almost null and she knows it. Her classmates start to demand explanations.

Marc: Check, Lila

And Lila just can see him with hate. Where is Hawk Moth????? She need some powers now!!!!

Meanwhile with the squad...

Adrien: wow, just wow

Marinette: are you ok?

She knows is pretty stunning the first time you see Protective! Marc in action.

Adrien: Yes, I just wish that this would be less... intense but Lila brought it to herself

Nathaniel: Oh dude! This isn't over

Nop, if they knew Marc and they do, they know that Marc is not done yet. Adrien is taken back for it, there is more?

Adrien: What do you mean?

Alix: Listen, Agreste. Marc is all about the right words, he just said Check, but every body knows in chess the game isn't over until someone says Checkmate, he isn't done yet.

Indeed, Marc has not yet delivered his final blow. And just a look to his face is enough to know that he is ready for it. where normally is his sweet smile now is a confident and cold smirk, and his always gentile eyes are burning with a fire that screams determination and victory.

The squad is on edge, and if Nathaniel is blushing a little not even Alix says something, to intrigued to tease her friend.

And between the voices demanding answers and the one trying to sell her excuses, Marc's voice is heard clear and strong, something rare for the always soft spoking and shy writer, making every body to remain silent. Not even Chloe dares to say word.

"In fact Lila, I'm curious, why would you do that? They were always kind to you and Marinette was never really mean to you, so why?"

Marc stands up from his seat beside his boyfriend and walks to where Lila is cornered by his friends. His walk and moves are confident, his head high and his eyes scream 'don't get in my way'

Nathaniel suddenly feels VERY thirsty, and the rest of them, even Alix and Marinette who have experience with this side of him, are astonished to see their naturally shy and anxious friend being so confident and bad-ass.

Some are starting to think that he was abducted by aliens. They clear the path, so Marc is front of Lila who is still sitting in the blanket, and looks down at her.

Now here I have a good monologue about Marc being so HBIC with Lila, but I don't want to show it until I post the fic in Ao3, this is just a draft. But he says things he knows would anger her, until Lila snaps and stands up in fury and screams about how much better than everybody she is, about what she really thinks about her classmates even about Ladybug, how much she hates her, Marinette and now him, and juts to put the nail in the coffin, she says that she wish that they were dead so they don't mess up her plans.

(Don't think Marc is reckless, he is clever and knows that Lila would be a very potential Akuma, maybe someone else, so when he comes up with his plan he said to the team that it would probably make Lila akumatized, Marinette said that she would handle that, they don't question her, after all she was who gave Alya that interview with Ladybug, so they trust her)

And then some gasps make her remember that they have an audience, she looks around and is met with the horrified faces of her classmates.

She showed her true colors, now is imposible for her to save face, nobody is going to believe her again. She looks again to Marc and sees his victorious expression, it was a tramp and she took the bait, fuck!

"Checkmate, Rossi. The game is over, you lost"

She is furious, all her work, her empire is ruined, and is all this brat fault! She looks for an akuma but nothing!

Her classmates are now angry and she is outnumbered, she runs away.

Nobody dares to speak, still processing what just happened, and then is Marinette the first to collect herself and jumps out of her seat and runs to hug Marc.

"YOU!!!! YOU LITTLE DIAVOLIC ANGEL! YOU ARE AWESOME THANK YOU!!!"

Marc giggles, his sweet and gentle demeanor back, and returns the hug.

"Nobody mess with my beloved ones and gets away with it"

Now, the rest also react and remember

HOLLY MOLLY MARINETTE WAS RIGHT

They apologize, and she forgives them, they defended her after all.

They also cheer and congrat Marc, because holly shit that was intense! They now have a new respect for Marc

Nino: Dude! Remember me to NEVER be on Marc's bad side!

And yeah, all of them unanimously agreed to never make the cinnamon roll mad. Kim also wonders if is worth it to tease him to see his funny and cute annoyed reaction, after this he doesn't want to take any risk.

Alya: Yikes! Who would think that the cute Rainbow comes with storm included?

Alix: I would like to say that you get used to it... but that would be a lie, and we know that lying is not a good idea

Everybody laughs, and enjoy the rest of the evening.

Oh! And you remember the research our artist gang did? Just after going to Mari's home for another sleepover, once the picnic was over, they send some emails, to Damocles, the School Board and Mrs. Rossi.

Next day of school was a very interesting one, Lila was being ignored until is called to principal Damocles' office. The next thing they know is that there were some screams in Italian, Lila and her mother are in the classroom, Mrs. Rossi also give a piece of her mind to Bustier and Lila is forced to apologize. Again there is no akuma. HM has been a little quiet, maybe he is bussy in his civilian life, just like Gabriel Agreste who is in Japan in a business meeting, but that is just a coincidence, really! Oh and they may or may not have the whole thing in video, because Marc deserves to watch, he was the hero here after all.

Lila has what she deserves, karma is wonderful and Damocles and Bustier are sent to make some curses in education and dealing with bullying.

Everybody who matters is happy :D

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loki-hargreeves · 4 years

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Good Omens Imagine - You Summon a Demon

Warnings: demon summoning, this is honestly just a crack fic, vulgar language, a moody demon Word Count: 2K Summary: Out of boredom, you decide to summon a demon, not believing that it would actually work. You end up summoning Crowley in your apartment. A very worried angel comes looking for him as well. That’s how you meet Crowley and Aziraphale. Author’s Note: This has been on my mind for a while now. I don’t actually know how to summon a demon so please excuse how I wrote it. It’s not meant to be taken seriously. Please enjoy <3

THIRD POV

It was a silly idea, truly. Y/N and her friend had been out at the nearest bar and after a few drinks, they ended up discussing paranormal stuff. Somehow the conversation morphed into the two of them planning on playing with the Ouija board Y/N had somewhere in her apartment, possibly hidden in her closet or underneath her bed to gather dust. In their tipsy minds, it sounded like a perfect plan.

As Y/N returned home alone, she remembered that. She decided to find the board and get it ready for tomorrow. But as she found it hiding underneath her bed, she got an idea.

What if she played alone? It’s not like anything would actually happen, but it could be fun nevertheless. Surely, she would laugh at herself about it afterwards. So that’s what she did. Y/N set up the board on the floor, lit up a few candles to set the mood. She turned off all the lights and covered the mirrors in her bedroom. In order to play, she quickly read the instructions. Just like that, she was ready to get started.

As much as she was convinced that it was fake, it still made her nervous. There was always that small chance that it would work, right?

“Okay, I’m calling in good spirits. No negative entities are welcome here,” Y/N started as the online instructions had instructed her. “If anyone’s actually there, I would like to play with you.” Gosh, that sounded so wrong, she thought.

She sat on the floor with her fingers on the pointer. After a few moments of silence later, nothing happened which relieved her. She sank her shoulders and smiled, feeling much more comfortable now that it hadn’t moved. “This is so stupid, it’s not like this board could actually summon a demon,” The woman laughed by herself, giving her words zero thoughts whatsoever.

If only she had known the power of her words.

As if on cue, something happened. The pointer began to shake underneath her fingers which startled her out of her skin. Y/N let out a scream as she got up from the floor, watching in horror as the Ouija board shook wildly. That was not supposed to happen! “Holy fuck, shit…fuck!” Y/N whimpered in horror. Her eyes were glued to the board. Once it began to levitate, she almost passed out.

Was she dreaming?

Or was she drunk? Y/N hadn’t had that much to drink either.

Her heart was pounding so hard from fear that she felt it all the way up in her throat. She wanted to run away, but her entire body was frozen in shock. Her fight or flight response seemed to betray her.

A bright light came seemingly out of nowhere. It was so bright in fact that Y/N had to close her teary eyes. A few moments later, the light seemed to vanish, and she heard that the board dropped back on the floor. Terrorized by what she saw, she still decided to look at the board. What she saw next was definitely not a Ouija board.

There was a man, a tall man in fact, standing right in front of her. He had ginger hair, an all-black outfit and round sunglasses. Although the lenses were dark, she noticed that he had yellow eyes. Yellow! The man, or whatever it was, seemed annoyed. “Aw fuck! Couldn’t this have happened a little later? I was just in the middle of something!” The stranger groaned in a…British accent?

“What the fuck are you?” Y/N cried in fear, wanting to keep a distance between her and the man.

“There’s no need to be so rude, damn,” the ginger man, creature, whatever replied to her. Shivers ran down Y/N’s spine. In her mind, she was convinced that she had just summoned death itself into her own bedroom. She wanted to scream and cry, to run as far away as she could, but she could only stand there as her world began to spin wildly. Her vision began to brighten until she saw white. A split second later, her body failed her as she lost consciousness.

The demon, Crowley, wanted to leave. But he had been summoned and now there was an unconscious woman on the floor inf front of him. As pissed off as he was, he decided to wake her up. Surely, the candles would burn down her house if he just left her like that. “Get up, will you?” Crowley sighed and squat down on the floor right next to her. He poked her body with his long fingers, noticing the details of her appearance. He wondered why on earth she had summoned a demon and why it just had to be him! Crowley had been at Aziraphale’s bookshop as he was summoned. Surely, the angel was worried as hell over his disappearance.

When his poking didn’t bring her back, Crowley cursed under his breath. He wanted to leave, truly, but he couldn’t. He had been summoned. He had to end this ritual she had started, and he couldn’t do that when she was in an entirely different world than him.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows together as her headache grew worse, so bad in fact that it woke her up. Carefully, she rubbed her temples and moaned in pain. Did she really get such a terrible hangover over a couple drinks? She opened her eyes and noticed she was in bed, although she couldn’t remember ever getting in it. Then she heard two men talking. Quickly, she was fully awake, and she remembered what happened.

The man!

Y/N got out of bed and followed the voices. Although she was terrified, she was curious. She walked out of her bedroom and looked into her living room. There were two men there, talking until they noticed Y/N. One of them was the same man that appeared out of thin air. The other one looked much kinder. He had light locks of hair, big blue eyes and beige clothes. For a moment, it was perfectly quiet in her apartment. Little did Y/N know she had a demon and an angel in her living room. She was convinced at this point that this was a fever dream.

“Someone’s finally awake! Great. Now just end what you started so we can leave,” The ginger one broke the silence. He sounded angry which was indeed horrifying. Y/N didn’t know them or what they were capable of.

It made the other man sigh, “Crowley, can’t you see she’s terrified?”

What kind of a name was Crowley? Why was the other one so considerate? Nothing made sense to Y/N in that moment.

The same man continued, “Hello, I’m Aziraphale and this is my friend Crowley. I know you’re scared, but I promise that you’re just fine,” Aziraphale tried to ease her mind a little bit as Crowley rolled his eyes in the background and crossed his arms like a grumpy child.

“How did you…where did you come from?” Y/N managed to say something despite her worries.

“You summoned me, remember? Aziraphale just followed me,” Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale couldn’t just ignore it when Crowley vanished into thin air right in front of his nose. Of course, he followed the demon! A little curiosity went a long way. “This doesn’t usually happen. You see, in order to actually summon a demon…”

“A demon?!” Y/N breathed out in shock and her eyes widened. It sounded absurd, but it would explain what she saw.

“He’s not a bad demon! You know, he used to be an angel…” Aziraphale tried to speak, but he was cut off again.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley hissed, angry that the angel had to mention it to this stranger woman.

What the hell was going on? Had Y/N lost it? She was beginning to believe that.

“As I was trying to say,” Aziraphale raised his gentle voice ever so slightly, “summoning a demon requires a lot of spiritual power. You didn’t summon him for no reason. Now would you like to introduce yourself, dear?”

Something about Aziraphale was so calming. Yes, the situation was absolutely wild and unbelievable. Y/N was scared because there were two men in her home claiming to be demons. But this man had a presence which helped her relax. It was so overpowering, so magical. “I’m Y/N,” She said surprisingly calmly. The closer Aziraphale was, she more relaxed she became.

“Alright, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this little mishap and then we can all go on about our days,” Aziraphale smiled so cheerfully, as if this situation wasn’t terrifying at all.

Crowley sat on the arm of Y/N’s couch and he crossed his long legs, “Why did you even summon a demon if you’re so scared?”

Someone wasn’t happy to be summoned. Y/N almost felt sorry for ever touching that Ouija board. “I didn’t mean to! I just…well, I didn’t think it would work, okay?” She defended herself honestly. “Also, how am I supposed to believe you’re a demon...an angel, whatever. This is crazy!”

“Oh, you want proof?” Crowley smirked, as if she dared him to do something. He suddenly stood up straight again, getting ready to give her a little fright.

On second thoughts, she didn’t want proof. She was terrified enough and even the sheer possibility that they were speaking the truth was absurd. It would confirm to her, a human, that demons and angels existed. That kind of information would surely mess with her head. “No!” Y/N took it back.

“Oh, such a bummer!” Crowley muttered. He was already getting excited over the thought of scaring her by showing her his true form. It’s not like it mattered anymore. She had seen him appear out of thin air so what’s another supernatural experience more on top of that?

Aziraphale felt his stress levels rise as he stood between the two of them. He couldn’t believe they ended up in that situation. But somehow, he was convinced they were supposed to find Y/N. There was a very high energy radiating from her which almost told the angel that she could be useful. As risky as it was, he wanted to be friends with the mortal. Perhaps she could have something to do with the doomsday?

“Can you please just end this and then finish whatever you have to with Aziraphale? I’m tired of this,” Crowley began to get impatient.

“How do I ‘end this’?” Y/N wondered. She truly had no idea.

Crowley hung his head low as he tried to stay calm. Was she for real? “Did you read any instructions whatsoever before you decided to ruin my day?”

Aziraphale almost giggled at the situation. Although it was serious, it was a little bit amusing. But he managed to bite his lips together to stay quiet.

“I read something online,” She admitted. Y/N was oddly calm now. So far, they hadn’t made any indications that they would harm her. Besides, when she passed out, one of them had moved her to her bed. If they wanted to hurt her, surely, they would’ve done that already. So, she concluded that she didn’t have to be as terrified as she was.

“Okay then do whatever you read. I hate being trapped in here,” Crowley admitted. Wow. He couldn’t have been any harsher, now could he?

“Okay, I end this session. Whatever. Is that it?” Y/N mumbled a little awkwardly. Both Crowley and Aziraphale looked at her quietly. Nothing seemed to happen, at least nothing visible to her eyes. Did it work? Y/N didn’t even know what was supposed to happen!

That’s when Crowley cracked a smile, “See? That wasn’t so hard!” It was as if some magical bonds had let go of him and made him ten times less moody. Good for him, Y/N thought.

“Now, how about we discuss how you got him here in the first place?” Aziraphale suggested excitedly. He was naturally curious, so this was all fun and games for the angel. As long as he stayed, Aziraphale stayed. They had a conversation to finish and it didn’t matter if they did that at the bookshop or this Y/N’s apartment.

_____________________________________________

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed this. Your feedback would be highly appreciated 💚

#Good Omens #Good Omens fanfiction #Crowley #Aziraphale #Crowley x Reader #Aziraphale x Reader #Crowley x reader x Aziraphale #Good omens reader insert #good omens imagine #crack fic #platonic good omens

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hargroves-little-brat · 4 years

Text

You’re My Drug

Warnings ~ mentions of smut / angst

A soft smile made its way onto your face as you saw Billy walk into the cafeteria. His pretty blue eyes, sexy smirk and gorgeous little curls made you week in the knees. Steve nudged you, shoving you right out of your daze.

“You coming to Tina’s tonight? Me and Nancy are, heard a little someone wants you to be there” he chuckled, eyebrows wiggling in mischief.

“Uhh- yeah.. sure I’ll go.. who?” You proded your food, looking down at the mush they called a meal.

Steve looked at Nancy for a moment, they’ve noticed how down in the dumps you’ve been lately, even a movie marathon with the two didn’t sort it out, nor did sleepovers with Nancy or chilling with Steve seemed to work.

Nancy decided to clear the silence, “It’s Jake! Isn’t he super sweet? He sits next to you in chemistry right?” Well that was half true, Jake was super sweet, but then Billy kicked him out of his seat just to sit with you.

“How’s it going angelface?” And the moment those smooth words left that fuckers mouth, you were enraptured with him. Every bad thing you had heard about him somehow decided to fade away, and god did you feel terrible, I mean Billy? Billy Hargrove? Really? Steve and Nancy hated him. Tommy and Carol liked him. Every single sign pointed to no, but you still let that small blush creep onto your face once again.

“Umm, it’s ok..” Your voice came out like a small squeak, nerves fuelling your system.

“Well that’s good then princess, hope you don’t mind that I’m sat here either” he got a little bit closer to you and whispered, “I just thought you were kinda cute s’all” the blush on your cheeks got a thousand times darker, which only seemed to boost Billy’s ego more.

Billy was the reason why you day dreamed in class, the reason why you zoned out half way through conversations just at the mention of his name or the smell of cigarette smoke, the reason why at night your fingers ventured down to take care of an ache that only he’d been able to cause.

And you swear you aren’t boy crazy but Billy just seemed to push you over the edge.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Quickly you snapped out of your gaze, which seemed to be very fixed on Billy’s behind.

“Umm- yeah?” Your mind thinking of anything but Jake right now.

“Jake? He’s cute right?” Nancy pushed, desperate for you to just give him a chance.

“Oh- Umm.. yeah, he’s cute”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you want a drink or anything?”

There was nothing wrong with Jake, he was sweet and cute, like Nancy had said but he wasn’t dangerous and dirty. He didn’t drive fast down muddy roads and smoke like fifty a day. He was a sensible boy, and god did you want to like him but you’d been cursed with this adoration for bad boys.

Billy was exciting, he gave you cute compliments every day and you’d never forget that one time by his car.

When you kissed.

When he wrapped his hands around your waist and pressed you up against his car as your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. It was passionate and filled with lust everything about it was so amazing and-

“Y/N?” Jake tried again, waving his hand inf don’t do your face.

“Uhh, yeah sure... thank you” He slowly nodded, looks like some water might be the best idea for tonight.

And now you were alone. No Steve, no Jake, no Nancy, no -

“Heya Princess, why’re you alone?” That sweet honey suckle voice, a brief hint of tobacco masked by mint gum.

Billy.

“Umm... my Uhh date - h-he went to get me a drink...” You said each word cautiously, aware of the little thing you and Billy clearly had going on.

“You never told me you were bringing a date to this thing angel? Even after our little chat last night?”

Oh god, that sent a heat straight down to your core once again.

You remembered each little grunt that came from his end of the phone, how he moaned and groaned out commands as you both touched yourselves. He was dominant and assertive, telling you what to do, where and when to do it. His hand stroking himself up and down at an antagonising pace.

“Go on angel, you can do it, play with your little clit, play with it for me...”

“Fuck princess in close.. you close too?”

“Shit Y/N... you’re gonna make me cum so hard”

Even thinking about it riled you up.

“Steve and Nancy set it up... this morning- well lunch ish..” Billy leaned down to your ear.

“Well I’m not gonna lie I’m kinda jealous... but I know you’re crazy for me you pretty little thing, the pink on your cheeks tells me everything I need to know... wanna head upstairs later? Or we could go some where more private?-“

Jake cleared his throat, two drinks in his firm grasp, a little ticked off that Hargrove was talking to you.

“I’m sorry kid, didn’t realise Y/N was your date... you two have fun” he winked at you, suantering off into the crowd of the party.

“I know you have a thing for him” Jake mumbled, disappointed.

“Uhh, no it’s ok... I think you’re sweet.... and cute!” Jake just sighed.

“It’s ok, I didn’t particularly plan on going to this thing anyway, but if you do like him can we make like a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yeah, look I like Tammy... and you like Billy, how about we head our separate ways and just tell Nancy and Steve that we just weren’t getting along... I guess” It sounded like a good plan, except if Steve saw you with Billy he would freak out, they’re like enemies. But you’d disappointed Jake enough tonight... it’ll be some sort of way to say thanks, so you nodded and he headed off, giving you a small wave and smile.

“Hawkins has a new Keg King! Billy Hargrove bitches! Haha where’s Harrington?!” Tommy’s voice was groggy and slurred as he dragged Billy past you.

This wasn’t going to end well. Billy and Steve were surely gonna beat the crap out of eachother. Your feet picked themselves up and you decided to try and get to Steve.

The two boys squared up to eachother. Despite Steve’s small height advantage, Billy was all muscle, if they did fight it would be an easy take down.

“Yeah that’s right Harrington, look who’s taken your little spot haha” Tommy really pissed you off at times. “Oh look, Steve and his girls, really have turned bitch huh?”

You scuttled to Steve’s side, avoiding any eye contact with Billy.

“Look man I’m not here to fight, you’re drunk and-“

“You don’t know shit about me Harrington” you saw the way Billy stood, angry and tense. Any second he could throw a punch and recently Steve hadn’t been the best at using the right words.

You stood between the two boys, Steve trying to pull you away and telling you to be careful.

“Billy don’t, please?” you mumbled, looking up at him sheepishly.

“What was that huh? Little girl think she can stop this fight!” Tommy chuckled, soaking in this glory. He wanted a fight so bad right now.

Billy back down, his eyes still concentrated on Steve.

“Shut the fuck up Tommy” he growled, stepping away from you and grabbing a cigarette, heading back into the crowd.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I’ll explain... I just gotta go for a sec”

Billy got angry a lot. He needed to take his anger out as quick as possible otherwise he’d let it out the wrong way.

You still remember that evening. It was after a basketball game and Steve had asked you to pick him up, his car was out of service and Nancy was sick.

He stomped out of the game. Steve kept playing, clearly not phased. So you went after him.

Billy leaned against the back of the school, cigarette between his lips, kicking the wall angrily.

“Hey!...” your voice was warm and kind. It made Billy feel a lot more at ease, he stopped kicking.

“Hey princess” he attempted to turn on his charm but he sounded sad still.

“Don’t Princess me, until you tell me what’s wrong, you’ve been off all day.” that surge of confidence was unexpected.

“Issues at home angelface, I’d rather not go into detail” he was so soft spoken to you.

“Oh... I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have pushed” you stepped a little closer to him. “Can.. can I at least ummm... can I at least give you a hug?”

The offer was different. New. Billy hadn’t really been hugged before, sure a girl would cling to his side, but it wasn’t a sincere hug. He nodded.

And you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your head into his chest.

Billy’s heart beat faster, “thank you” he whispered, burying his face into your hair, taking in the familiarly sweet smell of your shampoo.

“Is your foot ok?”

“Its a little sore”

“Well let’s head to the nurse and she can sort it out” and that moment caused both of you to just fall. Fall in love.

Billy stood against the wall. No cigarette and no kicking, thank god.

“What was that?” His eyes didn’t move from their fixated spot on the grass. He knew he’d dissapointed you.

“I’m sorry, I just got a little pissed and I’m drunk and... fuck princess, I didn’t mean to” His voice was wavering, almost like he was gonna cry.

“It’s ok... you wanna head home? We can go to mine, it’s just a walk away, we can pick up your car tomorrow” he nodded. “Come here” your arms once again engulfed him in a hug. “I care about you so damn much Billy Hargrove...”

He was quiet. But his cheeks went a little pink.

His mind whispering;

‘I love you so damn much Y/N L/N’

#billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove headcannons #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years

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Hi Charity! I'm an ENFP who relates well to basically everything you post about yourself. I'm also fairly certain I'm an 6. I realized that lately I've been struggling a lot with anxiety (getting help, don't worry), but was wondering how that could affect Ne. I've always been the kind of person who seeks change to be better, but now my anxiety makes me feel like I'm in my Si - trapped in how things were in the past. I can't seem to get out of it. It feels like my dom and inf functions switched.

Hey, ENFP 6! I am really sorry you can relate to me, since that’s really no fun for you. It’s not easy being one, is it? But this is the lot life stuck us with, so we’d better learn how to make the most of it, right?

I can’t really tell you how it is for all Ne-dom 6′s (especially with different lower fixes), I can only give you my own experience – and that is that for me it causes conflict between the natural optimism and desire to believe the best in others of Ne-dom and the pessimistic, suspicious nature of being a 6. I approach things with a half-and-half mindset, which is often the opposite of whatever I am hearing from other people, due to Ne and 6 both being contrarian.

In other words, if someone is too excited, I will be the voice of reason. If they are miserable and depressed and expecting the worst, I will be the optimistic and cheerful one irritated by their perpetual fog. I expect good things from people but am also suspicious of their motives. This puts a bit of a damper on dating, since you want to trust your date to be a good person and also not take any chances that he’s not. Some probably super nice guys got frustrated with my non-committal answers to hanging out at their place and watching awesome movies on their giant screen. I’m sorry. Maybe I could have trusted you, and maybe I couldn’t. Better safe than dead.

But you probably already know that, since you live it. Your specific question is how do you get your Ne to work properly and how do you overcome your fear and just… go do things?

Well, the answer to that is simple and hard. Simple because it’s obvious, and hard because it’s hard for a 6 to overcome their anxieties and just do it. The simple answer is – you start recognizing and correcting yourself. Learning to laugh and say, “Oh, I am just being a 6 right now and probably over-thinking.” And choosing to open yourself up to the possibilities and think positively about them rather than freaking out. (I have personal experience with that at the moment, since my boss wants me to step outside my comfort zone. My first reaction was massive angst. My second reaction was anger, because I do not want to do this. The reaction I am having now is trying to use my Ne to think up all the good ways that this could really bolster my confidence and experience and make Good Things Happen in my life. So that’s what you have to do – stick with your feelings and thoughts about something long enough to have the ability to make a decision to approach it with optimism and positivity. Fear and excitement create largely the same reaction in the body; it’s our mind that decides what to call it. So start re-naming and controlling it. Make it excitement and not fear. See if that helps.)

6 loves to hide behind the mantra of “just being rational.” Rational, you may be, but overreacting or paranoid when there’s no need, you also may be. Not every new situation or relationship or change is an actual threat to your security. Ne-doms are supposed to be optimistic and excited about the future. 6ish Ne-doms seem to be excellent problem-solvers and linear thinkers, able to foresee bad things and keep them from happening due to intuition + logic, but they need to learn to integrate into 9 and chill so their Ne can breathe and do what it’s supposed to do – which is to look for new possibilities and opportunities with enthusiasm, and not have to analyze the hell out of everything before they commit to it (and poll 15 of their closest friends ;).

Jordan Peterson in his book talks about a woman he knew, who became housebound. It did not start out that way. At first, she was just anxious about driving to the mall, because she was afraid she might not find a parking space. So that fear started her keeping away from the mall. It became a “place I do not drive to.” Pretty soon, her anxiety grew a little bit. There were other places she did not drive it. Places she did not feel safe. So she stopped going to them. And little by little, her world shrank. Until she did not feel safe outside her front door. I pitied her when I read that, and decided it would never be me. I force myself to do things, within reason, that I am scared of, so I can prove to myself that I did it. But… I do not do this nearly as often as I should, to truly improve. And for better or worse, life has not forced me out of my comfort zone much, which means I have to do it myself.

You need to learn to balance what is actually logical, and what is just fearful. Good logic rides on the balance of probability. It factors in the odds of what you’re afraid of actually happening. Irrational fears are fixating on things that are not possible, rational caution is focusing on what could happen, and what has a high chance of happening. That is where true wisdom comes in – better to be cautious than regret it, but not so cautious that you miss out on all the good things life has to offer because you never left your house. Abducted by aliens – irrational fear. Walking down a secluded street alone at 1am – a good chance of being predator bait.

When I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, I find it helpful to do what Doctor Phil suggests – get out a notebook, and ask yourself one question after another, so you’re writing out a logical train of thought. (”What is the real reason you do not want to do X?” “Well, Y will happen.” “And what will happen if Y does happen?” “Well…”) Keep going until you have literally discussed it all; you will either wind up seeing that your fears are irrational or with contingency plans. (”If I get lost in the Miami airport, I will do Z.”) Either way, you will be thinking clearly and not with a mind infused with anxiety.

Now, as for being stuck in your lower function. High Ne’s generally fixate on Si impressions like, “It was better in the past,” or “I am never going to move forward but be stuck here forever,” when they are not actively moving forward. This will create a deep sense of dissatisfaction that you will try and fill in other ways, but they will not work, because the root cause of the problem is that fear is holding you back. So, start moving forward. Even just a little. What is it that you want to do? What is the first step? How big of a step can you take? Focus on one thing at a time. You can do it. Who do you want to be? Where do you want to be? WHAT do you want to be?

I admire brave people who do not seem afraid of life. I look at them with longing. But in reality, no one is keeping me a prison to my anxiety except me. I am choosing, by not doing, to feed the monster and to shrink my world. And the only person who as the key to my prison cell is also me. The choice as to whether or not to let myself out… is mine. And it’s the same for you.

So, make your Ne happy. Stop thinking. Start doing… with a plan. Sometimes all it takes is saying yes when fear tells you to say no. Then showing up. Often, as a 6, I have learned that my anxiety about something was unfounded and that when I am in the middle of doing it, I am strangely calm and “okay.” Odds are, you will be too.

I hope that helped. I wish I had some grand, inspiring story of how one day I woke up and was confident about everything – but that would be a lie. That is not the path I have to hoe. Other people have other struggles, this is mine.

- ENFP Mod

#question #.enfp #enneagram #enneagram 6

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xadoheandterra · 6 years

Text

Title: Don’t Write Me A Postscript Fandom: Red vs Blue Chapter: VI (I / II / III / IV / V / VII / VIII / IX / X / XI / XII / XIII) Characters: David Church | Agent Washington | Recovery One, Church | Alpha, Micheal Caboose | Agent California | Micheal-210, Aiden Price | Counselor, Epsilon Summary: He was all sorts fucked up and didn’t want to admit it. Being alone for fourteen months didn’t help matters--except, well, Church was tired of being alone. Tired of people leaving and dying--and he thought, no more. I’m done. I’m out.

Won’t Say You’re Sorry (I / II / III)

Do You Even Feel Compassion? (I / II)

It didn’t take long for Church to find Agent Washington. It wasn’t like Washington was hiding anyway. He’d gotten a call from Command—the sound of 479er’s voice a bittersweet memory—informing him of the change in his directives and praise for his work to gather the Blues together. Once the conversation finished Washington got to his feet and headed out to find where Church and Caboose went to. They needed to move, and quickly. There was no telling just where the Meta was, and the chance of a recovery beacon going off in short order was high.

Wash bit his lip beneath his helmet and wandered through the obviously fortified and carefully reconstructed portions of the base. He’d observed the rest of the place as an utter wreck, obviously from both the destruction of the blues and the unfortunate loss of Agent Delaware. Wash stopped at the wall in a small part of the fortified section that remained somewhat a wreck. He saw the scratched marks in neat little rows of five, and the broken, jagged piece of metal casually discarded on the ground.

Washington breathed in, and closed his eyes. The memories flowed over him like water—

—four walls, padded white, and an empty, stark room. The Counselor looked at him with a face masked of pity and sorrow. David wanted to scream at how fake the look was—how could he have never noticed before? A part of his mind, jagged edges that dug into the rest of him, laughed bitterly.

“Why would you notice?” hissed Epsilon. “They were good at hiding it.”

David’s eyes tracked to the small fragment and then snapped back to the Counselor, face a little pale. The walls were white and dangerous and—

—David ran the broken shard of glass through the soft covering of the walls with a laugh. He didn’t mind the blood from his cut hands, didn’t mind anything. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted the Counselor to leave him alone. He knew he messed up—he wasn’t compatible, he wasn’t right, he was never good enough—never good enough; just a bastard, a mistake that shouldn’t exist.

“It’s why he stuck me with you, you know? He wanted to break you.”

David sobbed, git his teeth, and dragged the broken shard of mirror through the wall again. He made marks in neat little rows of five from his tears and blood and jagged shards of his mind. He marked the days that he knew of, the passage of time that he was certain of, and when he finished David collapsed to the ground. He stared and stared and stared—

“Fourteen months,” Epsilon laughed. “Fourteen months in recovery. Ain’t that a fucking bitch?”

—Wash sucked in a sharp breath and blinked. He placed a hand to his helmeted head and frowned. After a moment he shook himself and straightened back up, just in time to see Church enter into the room and freeze, stiff with shock.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Church burst out. He moved quick, quicker than Washington anticipated. Already Washington had his gun out and up the minute Church ended up in his space, breathing sharp. “What the fuck, man? Put that thing away!” The pitch raised higher and higher and pierced into the parts of him that were broken. Washington breathed in heavily, and forced himself to relax.

“Sorry,” Wash said. “You startled me.”

“I startled you?! You pulled a fucking gun on me!”

“I am a Freelancer,” Washington pointed out dryly. “What did you expect?”

Church narrowed his eyes—green, Washington noticed. In fact the pale skin, the dark hair—that shape and the way his face scrunched up left Washington reeling. He’d seen that face before, he was certain he’d seen that face before—Wash shook his head.

“Why are you out of armor?” Washington demanded. “Where is Caboose?”

Church rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Resting. Fucker’s gone and probably given himself food poisoning. He’s too out of it right now, and our armor is getting cleaned and sanitized. Dumbass threw up on it.” Church grit his teeth towards the end.

“What?!” Wash shrieked. “We need to leave now! We have a lead and any time we waste—”

“I’m not leaving until our armor is cleaned! Deal with it,” Church snapped out. “I came to find you, to tell you not to leave the fucking fortified walls unless you wish to risk death and dismemberment, and now that I’ve finished that I’m going to get Caboose some more fucking water and go back to being his fucking pillow.”

Church turned on heel; the vitriolic diatribe left Wash gaping for a moment, before he quickly raced after the sim trooper.

“How the hell do you get anything done like this?” Wash demanded.

“We don’t!” Church snapped back. He threw his hands up into the air. “That’s the charm of it! Now are you going to fucking shut up and relax or what?” Church glared at him over his shoulder, then frowned. “Besides you look like your about to faint.”

“I’m not,” Wash protested.

Church pressed his lips together. “Fuck you aren’t,” he grumbled. “Goddamn Freelancers never take care of themselves. Where’s those fucking MRE’s dammit—need to get that and some water; juice is definitely no good. Probably water for him too can’t be hydrated enough in that suit…” The words got quieter and quieter until Washington couldn’t even hear them; he could just see Church’s lips moving as he stormed through the base with a purpose.

Washington followed after him, completely uncertain of just what happened.

In the kitchenette Church unearthed the MRE’s and a few protein bars. He shoved three of the pouches at Wash who fumbled to hold them in surprise. Then Church hunted around and filled up a pitcher of water and grabbed two plastic cups and stormed out of the kitchenette. Wash followed along behind him, a little at a loss for just what the other man was doing. Church led him to a small room with a bed that looked barely used and a small computer set up in the corner. A corkboard filled with hastily scribbled and near legible notes sat on another wall. Caboose was curled around a pillow and he looked utterly pathetic in the under suit.

Washington watched as Church settled down onto the bed, placed the pitcher onto a makeshift night stand, and poured Caboose a glass.

“Hey big guy, got you some water,” Church mumbled. Caboose looked up and instantly latched onto Church’s middle. Church sighed. “Come on, drink up. You’ll be even sicker if you don’t.”

“Di’n throw u’,” Caboose said, but the words seemed slurred with something Washington couldn’t quite identify. Perhaps Church gave the other man some sort of medicine? Dangerous if he had no medical training—sim troopers often had an array of conditions that the Director sought out in order to have troopers in the first place. They just weren’t the ‘dumbest’ of the lot, but often the least functional.

“Yeah I see that bud,” Church sighed. “Drink up. Please.”

Washington settled down at the wall. It was more obvious here that Church actually cared for the larger soldier. He seemed almost gentle, his words much softer. Perhaps Wash shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t see this side of Church and Caboose—this softer, caring side.

As if he could hear Wash’s thoughts Church pinned him with a sharp glance.

“Eat your MRE’s,” Church snapped out. “I refuse to have to take care of two idiots who refuse to take care of themselves.”

“’m fine,” Caboose whined as he drank his water.

“You drank spoiled juice,” Church said exasperatedly. “That is not fine, Caboose. God dammit.” Caboose just huffed and cuddled closer toward Church’s middle. When Church shot Washington another look the freelancer sighed and started to unpackage the MRE’s Church shoved at him.

Wash’s eyes widened when he saw the specific meals provided. He glanced to Church—how did he know?—and then brushed it aside as coincidence with a shake of his head. With a sigh Washington climbed to his feet and grabbed the pitcher of water. He started the process of heating each MRE up calmly as could be.

“And take off your damn helmet when you eat,” Church snapped out. “You aren’t a fucking heathen, dammit.”

Wash stiffened, and a part of him ached. How long had he wished for someone with a face like Church’s to give him this level of care? He breathed out through his nose, sighed, and nodded along. Church reminded him of a man Washington hoped to never have to deal with again, only softer despite the explosive nature he displayed. It reminded Wash a little of his two younger sisters and how they’d bully him into taking care of himself as a kid, except with far more curses than the twins ever used. Wash would’ve washed their mouths out with soap if they ever spoke in such a crass manner.

After all his mother didn’t care, Wash thought somewhat bitterly. She never seemed to care aside from reminding him so often about how much he looked like his father. Wash worked on the MRE’s and the heating packets in silence, and when it came time to eat he hesitated to remove his helmet for a few seconds. A sharp glare from Church had him undoing the clasps without even thinking about it. As the release hissed Wash pulled the helmet off and breathed nonfiltered air. How long had it been since he removed it?

Washington set the helmet aside and ran his fingers through his hair, and then decided to work his gloves off so that he could eat better instead of fumbling with a spoon through Kevlar and armor. His implants burned as he worked the gloves off, and with a faint hiss he ran bare fingers over the back of his covered neck. He massaged into the inflamed skin around the chips and wires until the warmth receded.

“Nice hair,” Church said suddenly. Wash had forgotten he and Caboose where there for a second and jerked his head up. Pale blue eyes were wide and adrenaline rushed through his system with a jolt. Wash’s heart hammered fast. “Why bleach just part of it?” Church questioned.

“Because I like it,” Washington said slowly.

Because it makes me look less like him, he thought bitterly.

Church shrugged. “Whatever man, just curious.” He paused in thought and then cocked his head. “You know, you kind of look familiar.”

Wash stiffened and narrowed his eyes with a calming breath a second later. That sentence—Washington looked at Church cautiously.

“What do you mean?” Washington questioned.

After a moment Church shook his head. “Can’t recall. Must be nothing.” At that Wash relaxed slowly and began to eat. He did keep an eye on Church the entire time, now very curious to spite himself. He wondered about the other man as he relaxed back and combed his fingers through Caboose’s hair as the other dozed with his face pressed into Church’s abdomen. It was oddly sweet.

They really care for each other, Wash thought, and focused back on his food. He fought down the bitter longing that surged in his chest. The sharp taste of jealousy tainted the taste of the food. He missed that; the camaraderie. He missed it all.

Church kept his eyes closed even though he wanted to drink in Agent Washington’s face like a starving man. A part of Church longed to touch the man, to feel him and see that he was real and fuck if that didn’t sting like a bitch. Church thought it was bad enough seeing Tex after all—having her stand there and stare at him half out of his mind, thoughts a jumbled mess because of—of the fall.

(was that what happened?)

(I don’t—)

It took most of his time at Blood Gulch for things to come back in shattered pieces; Church knew that Tex was labeled dead by Freelancer—he’d been told so; it had to be true. The Director wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Except she pulled through, she survived—and she returned to Freelancer. She returned to working for the Director and that—that stung. All Tex cared about in the end was what the Director wanted her to care about and not him.

(she was mine)

mineminemineminemineminemineminemine

(how dare you)

And that was why they didn’t work out, Church thought bitterly. Tex was far too focused on ending the war—and not focused enough on their relationship. Church for a moment tightened his grip on Caboose’s hair and only lessened it when the man shifted and made a noise. Church grit his teeth and just breathed—

(he couldn’t breathe)

(simulation)

(are we forgetting?)

—Church couldn’t think straight. He bowed his head and curled himself around Caboose who was curled around his middle and just tried to stop. To stop thinking and stop feeling because seeing Agent Washington’s face just hurt.

(david)

(oh god david you’re—)

sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry

(you’re—)

That, Church knew, was definitely Agent Washington. Church wondered what happened to the man—he looked and acted like he’d been through hell. A small part of Church ached and screamed—

—myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault—

—but the rest of him just felt bone tired. Of course Agent Washingtone would’ve have come back. He probably crawled through shit and hell to return to Project Freelancer. Whatever happened to the young man was far worse than whatever Tex went through. She came out relatively unscathed, but Wash…Wash was different. Church couldn’t reconcile the bitter, cold man with the young idealistic recruit.

Not that he could recall much. Merely hazy glimpses and flashes of memory that didn’t quite mesh together right. It felt as if a whole part of him was missing, a part of him with all the important bits that he needed. In the end Church didn’t care all that much. The past wasn’t worth it. He had things in the present to focus on—even if the past wanted to continually shove itself into his face and remind him of how much he’s forgotten.

“Sh’ld s’eep,” Caboose grumbled tiredly, and Church practically melted after the comment.

“Good idea, buddy,” Church mumbled, and his mind filled with static. For the first time in fourteen months Church stopped thinking, stopped doing, and fell into a static-filled slumber with Caboose clutched tight to himself. Just a few hours was all he needed; the armor should be done by then.

#rvb #red vs blue #leonard church #caboose #agent washington #fanfic #fic: don't write me a postscript #everyone is fucked and nothing is okay #whoops feels #warning for bad mental hospital situation #alpha ai #alpha church #aiden price #the counselor #epsilon #epsilon ai #mental health issues #sickness #agent california

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funkymbtifiction · 7 years

Text

INTP and the inferior functions

SUBMITTED by secretlynotarobot

Hello! As an INTP, I wanted to comment on some of the recent posts about this type in particular and dom-Ti in general. (Actually, I want to hide under a rock.) There’s a lot of information about the strengths of Ti and Ne already, and a lot of misconceptions about the role of inferior Fe, so this is my INTP perspective on how Si-Fe act out from lower in the stack.

INTPs are typed as rational, objective, and unemotional. Unhealthy INTPS are typed as … rational, objective, and unemotional. This is how dominant Ti wants to think of itself.But unhealthy Ti chains with unhealthy Fe, and that doesn’t manifest as mechanical indifference or elitist ego. It shows up in the same capacity for interpersonal placation, self-deception, insecurity, and moral equivocation that all Fe-users struggle with in dark moments.

A low-functioning INTP lives in a mirror-maze of reflected feelings and deflected relationships using persuasion and logic. At one word per function: healthy INTPs are curious, imaginative, loyal, and empathetic. Unhealthy INTPs are critical, devious, stubborn, and manipulative. The more Si-experienced and Ne-creative the INTP, the better we are at sustaining extreme cognitive dissonance without ever acknowledging the contradiction. That cliche mad genius who performs unspeakable human experiments for science? He’s not an (unhealthy) INTP because he lacks empathy for the suffering of his subjects; he’s an unhealthy INTP because he has reasoned away the relevance of other people’s emotions. But what can you expect? He did it to himself first.

Because dom-Ti knows, aux-Ne can imagine, and tert-Si won’t forget, emotions hurt. If an INTP (or ISTP, for that matter) seems emotionally detached, that’s because inf-Fe has become threatening to itself. These feelings aren’t too small to register, they are too big to handle. Other people may underestimate an INTP’s sensitivity (dom-Ti actively encourages this) and stomp all over us without ever being aware of it. And we’ll let it happen because Ti-Ne would rather contort itself into a pretzel than admit how susceptible Si and Fe are to outside influences.

“Oh look,” an INTP says, “See that ENTP over there? We’re very similar, but also quite different! Let me explain how they work and then you’ll understand that’s not how I work. Oh, I should not be talking about myself…um…have I mentioned that I’m not like the ISTP?” And all that’s visible is a vague outline of negative space as the INTP defines themselves in relation to what they’re not.

Inf-Fe/tert-Si fear their existence will never be as ‘valid’ as what other people experience. Together, these functions have just enough persuasive skill to respond appropriately to every situation as though the INTP experiences no emotions at all. Exactly as Ti dictates and Ne pushes to the extreme. Unhealthy INTPs will suppress, savage, and twist themselves as a matter of course because “no one else ever valued my feelings (Fe-Si), so my emotions really must be transitory and meaningless (Ne-Ti).”

There’s no Fi or Ni anchor in the INTP stack to give an innate sense of ‘I am authentic; this is my truth.’ Our internal functions are analytical and experiential in nature, lending themselves to extremes of doubt and corridors of infinite regress. The infamous INTP bluntness is an Fe bluntness. INTPs are not interrogating people on sensitive subjects because we don’t care how they feel. We want to understand why they feel that way. Then we can know better how to be considerate in the future, avoid repeating any mistake that caused us to hurt anything, and maybe learn a little more about ourselves at the same time.

So if you think you might be an INTP, but feel that your emotional awareness is just too high or just too strong, consider if/why that bothered you. And if you like thinking about the ifs and the whys of things, especially emotions because they are both powerful and problematic in your own life, then maybe give Ti a second chance for being balanced by Fe.

Ti likes complexities, but it’s the complications that bogs us down. This is the lament of Ti/Fe: there’s always more thought than can be expressed. Every sentence contains volumes of omission. “I can sum that up for you in two words,” is the catch-phrase for INTPs. But really, we’re sorting through our entire vocabulary, searching for just the right pairing of words, hoping that real understanding lies between them.

If you’ve read this far, I appreciate you taking the time. (Even now, I’m looking back thinking, 'use of plural subject we over I, prefaces assertions with margins for error, never gave any concrete examples from personal experience despite writing way too much, and probably offended half a dozen people unintentionally. Definitely INTP.’) I hope this was helpful to someone.

#intp #mbti #submission

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