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#my opinion of someone's beauty / attractiveness DIRECTLY correlates to how much I like them

meandmyechoes · 3 years

Text

The more I think about Dark Disciple, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quintress, but I also just, can’t?

I mean, yes. It’s very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. But I also, don’t really see it in that ’omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them’ sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don’t really, actively ‘ship’ it — like the way it was an open book with Rhayme or Latts Razzi (since it’s the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quintress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask how much it is tainted with my personal view on relationships.

I know the plot leaves little room for “the future” and fed us well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don’t think their relationship is "weak", but it’s very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can’t really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that’s it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It’s just… I don’t really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it’s much more a physical attraction thing that I don’t really have personal experience with.

I don’t know if quintress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I’m quite disappointed Ventress wasn’t doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it’s deliciously written, there’s not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It’s a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she’s more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she’s gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. and surprise! Our “assassination” plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I’ve read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the conventional to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the “Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos”. Now, I can’t dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there’s no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic varied person to person from the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie Lucas’s foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there’s always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you’re willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that’s a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quintress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obi-Satine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leave him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream.

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Jedi Order, I still have to do more reading on it from other sources to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj Ventress and Quinlan Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quintress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful (I guess) thing is they chose each other.

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes the contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. And I've been a canon apologist since forever. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[26th April 16:00]

I must address that I got spoiled of the ending and the first and second half of the book probably went through some big changes.

If I cried for this book, it’s score would be even higher. And I’ve been so obsessed with discussing the relationship, without shedding light on the characterization, which is definitely an unfortunate side effect. Then it occurs that quite possibly the second half (26-42) deviated even further from the script than the first? It doesn’t have concept art or blocking, plus possibly (heavily) edited to omit correlation to other arcs. My major complaint for the second half is Ventress doesn’t do much and we know NOTHING about Vos, even though he is given screen time in the book. my, I just wish Ventress punch him harder and drag his idiotic mess back to the light sooner.

And to criticism about it being their ‘toxic’ relationship being portrayed as ‘true love’, well, it really depends on how thoughtful the reader is, right? I think if the reader is able to notice all these red flags and gave their own interpretation of the relationship and its outcome, it’d’ve been an educating experience. There’s what for the reader and what for the characters. They don’t know this ‘love’ is destroying them, and what kind of message is it sending? What ‘love’ depicted in the book is true then? I have my answers, and I hope every reader comes to their own as well.

#dark disciple #sw reading #clean version #i yell 'EXCEPT THE FLIRTY PART' every three scenes

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cutegirlmayra · 5 years

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Hi I'm really enjoying ready a lot of your prompts. I'm not sure if you have answered something similar before but my question to you is if you could explain why do you think Amy is in love with Sonic and possibly why do you think Sonic 'might' like Amy in return. Thank you so much and I really appreciate it if you could answer these questions.

I would love too! It’s been a long while, so I might as well collect ‘new evidence’ right? :)b Also, thank you so much! I’m sorry everything is on shutdown (except Commissions! Rules link: x Pay link: x ) but I’m always excited to write a prompt when I get around to it! lol

Let’s start with the beginning. According to her creator, Amy was made with many “Fingers in the pot” and one of the main traits he mentioned was that he wanted Amy to be cute and have her focus set on Sonic. Since Sonic is always moving towards the next adventure, not really focused on anything else, he needed someone who would be completely concentrated on him. In Japanese culture, devotion/loyalty is an endearing characteristic, and it’s clear that Amy exhibits a sole fidelity to Sonic. This was intentional but perhaps mistranslated when interrupted by American culture.

Rosy the Rascal was meant to, based on fan speculation, set up the world’s perception of Sonic. He was famous for his heroic deeds, but in Sonic Adventure, we learn that he never considered himself a hero. He tells Shadow he’s just a guy who loves adventure, and according to the Canon Timeline, Amy was the first ‘friend’ Sonic ever had. His first ‘saving the damsel’ act, that defined a hero (especially in those time periods) was set up by him saving Classic Amy Rose.

She, therefore, has a small backstory explaining how she admired his heroism, used Tarot Cards to find out where to meet her ‘destined’ and was soon kidnapped and rescued by him. This only solidified her feelings for him, showing that not only did Sonic have a fan, but now he had a devoted self-proclaimed girlfriend in the process as well.

It was important that Amy was ‘self-proclaimed’ because besides being ‘shy’, Sonic is also not one to demonstrate a lot of emotion. This correlates with the ‘cool’ image that is reflective of Japanese young heroes. So, Amy set up that Sonic was a popularly recognized hero and even had fans, but she also revealed that most found Sonic attractive in his deeds and personality. “He’s so cool!” kind of stereotype. But besides being a rising star, Amy fell in love with him for his good deeds and risking so much to save her.

This is stage 1, let’s move on through the timeline.

As Amy kept reappearing (after Sonic met and befriended Tails and even Knuckles) she asserted herself into his circle to be closer to him. She gained a new strength, the Piko Piko Hammer and drew new expressions out of Sonic that normally wouldn’t have been seen before. Because Sonic doesn’t show many personal emotions, Amy has emotion enough to spare between the both of them. It’s relevant that this behavior, common in Japanese anime stereotypes, is frowned upon in the American fandom, but it’s actually praised and regarded with admiration in the Japanese fandom.

Another Sonic official on Twitter stated that if Sonic didn’t have a boy’s heart(A.K.A, wasn’t a young boy), he would probably choose Amy. I believe that’s because “The one who stays in the race, finishes the race” is true in this regard. Because Amy chases Sonic (A healthy part of any romance) she is constantly there (In sight, in mind.). So it’s safe to say one of the reasons Sonic could be more fond of her than he lets on is because he recognizes that she’s always there. She won’t abandon him nor her feelings for him. This level of devotion is praised in Japanese culture, and I would imagine he reciprocates this.

He rewards her efforts for this loyalty time and time again. Not only by saving her, but by also allowing her to do as she pleases. He never really goes against her. He never fights back with her. In fact, in Sonic Adventure and Sonic Adventure 2 battle, directly resulting after the Classic Era, it shows Sonic’s consideration for her feelings.

“Amy…. Take care of yourself.” In the Japanese version, Sonic pauses a considerable amount of time as Amy expresses the horror of his supposed sacrifice to protect her. He gives her one last cool pose, preparing for whatever may come, and reveals that in his heart–he felt it was his job to take care of her.

This correlates with Classic Sonic’s feelings, although not fully expressed in words and mostly done through deeds.

Amy’s feelings only grow stronger after this point, resulting in her being even more forward about wanting to marry Sonic, as it is her way of saying she’ll be his forever, and love him for all eternity. It is stated by SEGA that Amy can never get over Sonic, there will never be a ‘another love interest’, though they have explored Sonic being charming to other girls. Due to his already stated ‘attractiveness’ because of his heroic deeds, many girls have swooned over Sonic, and he’s treated this with patience and a heroic smile. He comforts girls, but he always returns to Amy’s side. Why is this? You may say, “Well, it’s because you just said she’s devoted to him, so he’s returning the gesture.” Well, you’re half-right, but it’s only half the tale.

In later additions, Sonic is shown to also get exasperated with Amy’s overly energetic flirtations with him. It’s actually more an anime stereotype once again, where the boy is embarrassed by the girl’s forwardness. In Japanese culture, the demure girl is praised as the most attractive quality for a woman. Amy is the stereotypical opposite, due to Sonic’s aloof nature, she has to be bold in her declarations of love for him. You can see the ‘demure’ type of girl found in Cosmo, Vanilla, Elise, Shahra, and even some in Blaze. Rouge is the stereotypical ‘older matured woman’ to put it lightly, but Amy is the energetic girl in anime stereotypes, bold and quick to anger or at times bossy.

In a Japanese translated bio online, Amy is stated to ‘cheerfully embarrass men’ which is shown in many incidents in Sonic X and the video games. In this regard, we could deduce that Sonic silently enjoys the praise as well as reciprocates her devotion. She loves him because he won’t hesitate to do what’s right (Heroism) and always follows his heart (cool and willful personality) while Sonic stays relatively close (in spirit) and is always devoted to protecting or being there for her.

These are the biggest traits that define Sonic and Amy’s feelings for each other. Mostly demonstrated in Sonic X, we see Sonic returning home to Amy, their telepathy ability when Amy is thinking hard about Sonic, and revealing that Sonic was thinking solely about rescuing her. We also see it in Sonic saving Amy from drowning, and Amy diving in to save him from the Metarex. There is also stated attraction on Sonic’s end for Amy during the ‘dress’ scene (But Amy is canonally stated to be a ‘pretty girl’, which is subtly expressed in the Video Games as well. Silver stating this world is beautiful, but pausing to blush and look away when Amy tilts her head while the sun highlights her is just an example. Sonic flirting with The Lady of the Lake and having a date with Amy is another example from Sonic’s POV.)

So, to conclude this little essay, I’ll say that the real answer is- “Sonic returns to Amy because she’s his perfect match. Her devotion is of course included in the mix, but it’s also because she expresses her feelings for him so openly, it’s touching how she’ll risk everything for him and he would willingly do the same.” They both care so much in such different ways, and the different ways they express it is perfect for how the other wants to be loved. Sonic doesn’t always like the forward attention, but he appreciates that he never has to question her devotion to him. Amy loves Sonic because although he’s shy, he finds ways to still show he cares deeply about her.

Although these two are still very much children, they have a foundation of mutual fidelity and trust that can’t be broken. (Sonic won’t destroy Omega, Sonic protectively defends Amy against Jet, and Sonic accepts Amy’s bracelet for him, A.K.A shows he accepts her feelings for him.)

Many in the fandom argue that Sonic can be inconsiderate of Amy’s feelings, which is true. He’s still a young boy and makes mistakes, but there is supportive evidence to suggest he does this in the presence of Eggman or others. I also support the theory that he doesn’t want her to get hurt because of him, so he keeps his distance during crowds, but as it is often player choice, he also goes on dates off and on with her from time to time.

In conclusion, these are just some things that result in Amy’s love and Sonic’s crushing. I say ‘crushing’ because Sonic isn’t quite fully there yet. He’s devoted but rarely speaks his honest opinion of her.

Even Omochao states in Sonic and Mario Winter Olympic’s: “No one knows if Amy is or isn’t Sonic’s girlfriend or not.” He never tells. Could this be because of his fear of her getting hurt by his enemies? Or his shyness? Possibly the fact that he never does say how he thinks about Amy?

Ever notice that?

But he constantly thanks Amy, and I think that subtle, “Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it.” Is honest. It may not be “I love you” but it’s something along those lines. Amy’s “Marry me!” Is her way of saying it, but moreover, what she wants to say is– “I don’t want to give you an ultimatum, because how you live your life is wonderful! But at least let me and my love for you be a part of it!” Which I believe he does return in full freedom of allowing her to love him in the way that suits her best.

He may refuse her advances, but he never has refused her heart.

She may not like it when he doesn’t consider her feelings, but she will always believe in him.

This is what I believe Sonamy is today.

There is plenty more, but I believe this is what needs to be stated, and perhaps this is too long already, so that’s how I’ll leave it for now ;) Thanks for the ask!

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years

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MBTI and Enneagram in E.D.

Hi. I don’t feel like creating a blog just to send an ask, sorry.

I was just wondering if it’s possible to type someone with an eating disorder (anorexia, tbh). I know that one is not their mental illness but do you agree that it might be harder, for example, to find out their enneagram because of their defense mechanism caused by the E.D, instead of what it would normally be without it? What advice would you give to someone struggling to find their MBTI/tritype without putting their disorder in the way? Can you give any examples? What’s your opinion on it?

No problem. I accept submitted asks all the time. :)

Mental disorders will impact your overall type some, but the eating disorders shouldn’t severely change how you perceive and respond to the outside world, which directly correlates to your Perceiving and Judging functions.

If you familiarize yourself with everything relating to your disorder, so you have a clear idea in your mind of what it encompasses, you can study Enneagram and MBTI looking for other patterns and by ruling out anything that “crosses over” into your disorder. I haven’t really studied eating disorders much so I can’t tell you what that would be. I can’t imagine too much interference with MBTI.

I have typed a couple of characters with eating disorders (To the Bone, and Black Swan) without much trouble. Anorexics have to do the same as everyone else – observe yourself and how you make decisions, look at how you process your emotions, information, and your overall pattern of behavior, while studying and identifying the functions.

With Enneagram, you need to look at your motives. This is hard, and may not be entirely possible for you before you turn 35. By then, most people have screwed up enough to identify what’s motivating them. ;) Do not rush this. Take your time. Read books about Enneagram. Think about what you are doing, when you are doing it. Ask yourself if it is for THIS reason. Various disorders shouldn’t obscure Enneagram, either. The 9 will still avoid conflict, the 8 will still initiate it, the 1 will still want to be perfect; the 3 will still need others to think highly of them, the 2 will still serve others to get love, the 4 will still feel different and misunderstood; the 5 will still prefer to watch life from the sidelines and not participate, the 6 will want reassurance on their important decisions, the 7s will want to ignore their mistakes and flit between fun things.

For your Enneagram, as it relates to an eating disorder, you have to dig deep and ask yourself WHY AM I DOING THIS???

Figure that out, find the Enneagram that matches, and there you go.

I’d say 1 anorexics have unrealistic standards of perfection they are trying to live up to; 2’s self punish due to their attempts to earn love being cruelly rejected; 3’s are desperate to be the prettiest, most attractive person around so others will accept them; 4’s can only see and often obsess over their flaws; 5’s live in a fantasy world, so they can’t see themselves accurately; 6’s may want to be thin and attractive to attract protectors; 7’s may routinely deny they have a problem with it; I can’t see an 8 with anorexia (the 8 is all about hedonism, though I suppose in theory they could develop bulimia so they could over-indulge and purge); the 9 might be focusing on this, to escape other, more unsettling feelings.

I don’t have an eating disorder, but I have the most self-critical tritype – the 146. So maybe some of my personal experience can give you insights into how to find your Enneagram tritype. I am known for being ruthlessly critical of my appearance. People tell me I am beautiful, I assume they are ignoring all my obvious physical flaws. I look in a mirror and those are the things I see first. The only way I feel good about myself is to be at a certain weight. 120 pounds. Size 4. That is a reasonable weight for my bone size and height but also on the thin side. If I happen to eat badly a few days in a row and it creeps up to 122, I am angry about it and eat less until it goes back down. I like to have “control” over my body and staying at that weight is something I can CONTROL. I have zero control over the outer world, and that sucks, but I can stay at 120!

If you pushed me to say how it relates to my fixes, I’d say my intense desire to be attractive comes from my 4w3 – I find myself less beautiful than I could be, than the beautiful things I love and surround myself with, so I do whatever I can to try and fix that, but somehow always wind up focusing on my flaws. Some of it comes from my perfectionist 1, which is always pushing me to be BETTER AND IMPROVE MYSELF, including my appearance (along with my general attitude, how I treat people, and my intelligence, so it’s not all bad ;). The 6 would rather run away from things by focusing on appearances and things it feels safer with / has some control over. The 6 and my self-pres instinct is what keeps me from going too overboard with it. My SP likes food. Plenty. Having enough. It makes sure I eat a decent meal three times a day. Thinking about my body in 20 years and wanting it to be okay. As a social type, I also care about and fixate on what other people think and say about me, so my 6 will imagine negative things. Since I am triple critical, I also notice other people’s flaws / their weight / their overall appearance, so I assume they are like me and notice mine. (Some of them who are triple critical probably are, the rest don’t care. Ha. Ha.)

So what is driving you? What are you telling yourself, and why?

- ENFP Mod

PS: I know you know this, but if you have an untreated eating disorder and are reading this PLEASE GET HELP. I knew a bulimic who spent the last few yeas of her life in agony. The doctors made it so she could not throw up, because she had ruined her throat with stomach acid. So she didn’t eat much instead. I got to watch along with her distressed loved ones while her body grew “fur” to keep her warm and her organs shut down one by one. By the time she died (young), she was not beautiful.

#question #mbti #enneagram #eating disorders #anorexia #bulimia #submission

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gxtsmxt-blog · 7 years

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Hey, may i request a Jungkook story well I don't really have a plot tbh i just wanna read a story of jungkook like those collage au and have a hobby of photography 🙈 thanks 😊

the nudist and the prudist [m]

❛❛ i saw you naked on your porch but jesus christ is my friend so i was hoping i would never see you again but here you are go away hot person❜❜ AU

COUNT → 14.968

GENRE → smut | angst | fluff | humor

PAIRING → jungkook | reader

WARNINGS → explicit language | virgin reader | exhibitionism | alcoholism | sEX

LINKS → TNATP 1.5 (jungkook’s pov)

note: so. this was mostly inspired by me walking by a naked man in real life this weekend. i live in a big city where one of the state universities is. lets just say i ran away screaming in terror. but ofc nothing else happened. never saw that man again. a nice butt he had. anyways. im gonna go to church now and say hello to my gOOD FRIEND JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!! AMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also send in more requests bc im a thirsty hoe

It was finally spring.

The bitter cold had lasted longer than normal and you feared that even the first day of spring would be filled with steady snowfall. Your winter had been spent wrapped in blankets, sipping on hot apple cider, and venturing outdoors with scarves nearly constricting your airflow. You thought the cold season was beautiful, but it was only beautiful superficially in your eyes. You didn’t enjoy walking around in layers upon layers of clothing and never leaving your room unless you absolutely had to. Then, one morning, you were greeted by melted snow and grass finally taking on that vibrant green color you missed so much.

As an introvert, winter was your own nightmare.

But then it became spring.

Pulling your keys from your backpack, you locked your door with a flick of your wrist, then moved through the claustrophobic hallway that connected you to your other housemates. They weren’t necessarily housemates exactly, as you’d never even spoken a word to any of them, but all three of you shared a bathroom and kitchen along with the people upstairs. Each of you had your own separate room as well—just as small as the hallway. Not counting your own building, there were four separate buildings altogether with a large, steep driveway near the front lawn. Your apartment specifically was located near the back where everyone parked their cars, each person having a spot that correlated with their room number. Closing the door quietly behind you, you made your way to the concrete stairs on the opposite side of the driveway and garbage bin, heading your university’s main campus.

As a first year, you had decided to live on your own without a roommate. Your parents advised you against it at first, as they knew you were the quiet type and it was hard for you to make friends, but you convinced them it would save you money in the long run. They offered to pay for most of your tuition, but you wanted to do so yourself. The two of them had been married for twenty-five years and you always compared your relationships—or lack thereof—to their own when you thought of settling down and having children; they were your role models. Even something as small as living off-campus was something you wanted them to fully support, even if it was ultimately your decision.

Your black boots made contact with the sidewalk after crossing the street, looking both ways before you did. It seemed no one was around but it was seven o'clock in the morning. Your first class wasn’t for another two hours and the walk to the bus stop was short, but you wanted to make a habit of reviewing your notes before your classes now that the weather was sunny again.

You rested your hands on the camera dangling around your neck. Your photography project for the week was to take pictures of nature at different times throughout the day. You recalled most of your pictures taken over the semester had snowfall in the background, so you were looking forward to the contrast from your new pictures. And today, you would capture spring for the first time.

Just as you passed by a few houses, your eyes followed after a robin as it perched on the railing of one of the porches across the street. It was slightly chubby, or maybe that was just its feathers, but you smiled as it began to chirp to its heart’s content. If you weren’t so shy and quiet, maybe you would sing, too.

You closed an eye and played with the focus to get the perfect shot—but then a naked man was opening the front door, standing directly behind the bird as you took the picture. The bird flew off to perch itself on a nearby branch instead, flapping its wings and squawking wildly in surprise, while you remained rooted to the sidewalk in pure shock. It was a good thing your camera was attached to a long string around your neck, as you let go of it when you let out a high-pitched scream.

He turned at that, not even realizing a person was standing across the street facing his house, and that’s when you saw it—his penis hanging there like a limp noodle. You covered your eyes so fast that you alsmost poked yourself in the eye, but for some reason you made a gap with your fingers to peek through. He looked like he was your age, maybe a year or two older than you. His hair was almost onyx as strands of straight hair fell into his eyes. You could feel your cheeks heating up but you couldn’t stop looking at him—both at him and his penis. He was muscular, too, his biceps and thighs attractively toned.

To your embarrassment, you realized this was the first time you’d seen a penis besides from illustrations in your high school textbook. It wasn’t like your family was religious or anything for you to never see one up close and in real life. Your mom had given you “the talk” when you got your period in seventh grade and explained sex to you in almost vivid detail, but also gave you her opinion on it—that sex should be reserved for a husband and his wife only. Maybe you were too young at the time to form an opinion of your own, but you had agreed with her. You promised you would wait until marriage to do that.

And, you supposed, somewhere along the way, you also promised never to look at a penis. Or maybe you just didn’t want to. Even from the simple illustrations in textbooks, they grossed you out.

Noticing your feet were still planted firmly to the ground, you broke into a run in the direction of the bus stop with your hands still covering your eyes, which wasn’t a good combination as a car honked at you when you blindly ran in front of it. You had no idea why you were running in the first place—as if he was going to chase you or something—but your first instinct was always to run away.

And he just stood there like this was just another day.

Faintly, you could hear him call after you, but you were not about to have a conversation with a naked man. You liked to look someone in the eye when you spoke to them and something told you that you would be looking at something else if he tried talking to you. Your thoughts raced as you wondered why he was even naked in the first place. Was he one of those guys you could look up online and find where he lived on the “sexual predators near you” list? If not, he was going to be up there very soon.

Even as the house disappeared from view when you turned a corner, you kept running. A man mowing his lawn simply watched on as you did, but you didn’t think much of it. You would later, though—your anxiety obnoxiously reminding you this incident happened in the first place.

When you reached an intersection near a busier part of the neighborhood, you hunched over to catch your breath. You tried not to think about his penis, but you couldn’t help it. It had been right there in your face. Well, maybe not right in your face, as you were standing at least a few hundred feet away, but you had seen it and you had stared longer than at least thirty seconds.

It really did look bigger than it did in pictures. Sex and male genitalia were never something you spent hours upon hours thinking about—until now. Now, as you sluggishly dragged your feet to the bus stop, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was so veiny and… thick. Was that supposed to fit inside of you someday? You knew men were of all different shapes and sizes when it came to their penises, but how could a penis be any larger than that and still fit? How did he even walk around with that thing? And you thought the hair was on the whole shaft. From what you saw, his pubic hair was actually at the base of it. The artist in your sex ed textbook illustrated penises with hair—well—everywhere. Maybe she was like you and had never seen a penis before either. That was slightly alarming, though, because maybe she shouldn’t be drawing penises if she hadn’t even seen one in the first place.

Pulling your phone out of your back jean pocket and wiping the sweat off of your forehead with the palm of your hand, you realized it was 7:08—it only took eight minutes for that disaster to happen. Your index finger tugged at the collar of your shirt and the slight spring breeze felt heavenly against the sweat that had accumulated there. You didn’t even notice how much you were sweating until now. It was a good thing you always put on deodorant. Were you sweating from the exhaustion of running away from a naked man for three blocks straight or… was it something else?

As the bus pulled in front of you, you quietly found an empty seat inside. You had a class in two hours but somehow you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to review any of your notes efficiently.

Your mind was thinking about something else.

You had memorized his address—or maybe it wasn’t even his house. Actually, you didn’t want to think about that because somehow that was worse; some random guy feeling the breeze on his bare genitals on an old woman’s porch was definitely worse. If you felt like you were traumatized, she would have a heart attack and then die—probably. So, you rationalized that it had to be his house and also wondered if he had roommates or even a girlfriend living with him.

9773 S. Briarwood Dr.

That was his address and the street the two of you lived on. Your apartment building was but two houses away from his, separated by mere shrubbery. How had you had gone through half of the semester already—and walking by his house each day—without seeing him at least once? Maybe you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you had left your room even fifteen minutes later that day, would you have even seen him at all?

After you came home from a study group later that night, you had torn a piece of paper out of your notebook and mapped out your entire neighbor—including possible bus stops, alleyways, and other shortcuts. His house was outlined with a bright red marker and crossed out, as if to tell anyone reading your map that it was a blocked off quarantine zone. It also helped that you drew him as a stick figure in his front lawn wearing no clothes with “beware of naked person” written beside him.

Behind your building were a multitude of possible routes. You could easily loop around the block so you never walked by his house on your way to the bus stop ever again. Though, you would also have to leave earlier in the morning. If that didn’t work, there was also another bus stop in the opposite direction you could take, but that meant waking up even earlier in the morning. You didn’t mind waking up earlier in the morning, but hoped that you never slept in late—for your sake.

All this trouble just because of a boy—and once again, you were thinking about his penis.

That entire day had been a nightmare for you. You went through the various stages of grief within two hours, but in reverse order—acceptance, depression, and then anger as you battled against yourself to not call the local authorities and tell them about a disturbing naked man walking the streets. You had every right to, you told yourself, as being naked in public was literally a crime: public indecency.

You felt like you were a used napkin now. He hadn’t taken your virginity but he had taken your innocence—the innocence that had never seen a penis in real life. But then you thought that it could’ve been an accident. The person inside of you that always tried to see the good in people wouldn’t allow your fingers to dial 9-1-1 and instead hoped an accident was what it was.

The spring breeze whipped your hair into your face just as his house came into view with you glancing down nervously at the picture you took of your map on your phone. It wasn’t too late; you could turn around to take another route and still get to the library with enough time to study.

You can do this, you told yourself. You’re a big girl living in the city. He’ll understand if you just talk to him. Tell him he can be naked all he wants as long as it’s not before eight o'clock in the morning during the weekdays.

You had every intention of marching up the steps leading to his front porch, knocking on his door, and saying exactly that, but then you changed your mind. Your brisk walk turned into slight panting as you quickly sped right on by.

However, just as you reached the intersection, as his house was the last house on the block before crossing the street, you heard a voice calling after you. Looking over your shoulder, you were more than surprised to see the very same person you saw yesterday, except half-clothed this time. He jogged down the steps, his bare feet running across the grass in his front lawn as he made his way over to you still frozen at the stop sign. You couldn’t help but have your eyes trail to his covered crotch and how something was moving in his sweatpants. Sparing a glance at his naked chest once, you turned on your heel and ran across the road, not even caring if a car hit you at that point.

“Hey!” he yelled after you but you didn’t slow down. “Girl with her backpack open!”

You stopped, looking behind you to see him still standing on the opposite side of the road. Your eyes landed on a trail of pencils behind you and you reached around your sides to feel the pocket where you kept your writing utensils was open. You bent over and tried to pick up all your pens, pencils, and multicolored highlighters before he could reach you, but just as you grabbed for an eraser in the middle of the road, he snatched it right out from under you.

You stood to your feet and reached for it, but he had at least a few centimeters on you and easily held it above your head. With his arm lifted in the air, you were given the perfect view of his bicep flexing and the dark patch of hair growing in his armpits.

“I remember you.”

No, you don’t, you thought to yourself.

“You saw me yesterday.”

No, I didn’t, you thought to yourself again but remained silent.

You could feel your cheeks heating up but he still kept your eraser out of your reach. Maybe it wasn’t worth it, but you were there now and should at least listen to what he had to say.

“About—”

“Jungkookie~” a feminine voice sang from a crack in his front door, manicured hands gripping onto its frame. Only her head peeked out and you wondered if she also had a problem wearing clothes.

Without taking his eyes off you or lowering his arm, he called her name back in the same sing-song voice. She giggled at him playfully, then her eyes fell on you, the smile slipping off her face.

“Who is she?” she said with a pout. “Come back to bed. I’m lonely without you.”

“I don’t know who she is,” he yelled over his shoulder, then looked back at you. “What’s your name?”

You looked between him and the seemingly naked girl behind his front door, feeling very uncomfortable staying there any longer. His arm had fallen slightly when he called over to her and he didn’t seem to notice, so you took that chance to jump in the air and snatch back your eraser.

“Hey!” he called after you when he noticed, watching as you ran across the street.

Just like yesterday, you ran until his house disappeared when you turned the corner. You had thought you could talk to him one-on-one but you felt so nervous around him. Maybe because you didn’t have the best of confidence around guys your age—or guys at all—but he made you really nervous. You brushed off that feeling from you seeing him naked, though, and not from something else.

For the past week, you walked in the opposite direction of his house on your way to the bus stop each day. It wasn’t like he was sitting on his porch waiting for you to walk by, but on the off chance that he was, you didn’t want to have another awkward chat with him. You didn’t know if he was actually a student at your university or was just some guy living on the same street as you either because your university was so large in the first place; you never saw the same person twice.

Stepping onto the bus one morning, however, your mood somewhat deteriorated at the sight of how many people were on the bus. It was crowded—so crowded that you knew you wouldn’t be able to find a seat and would have to be squished between people. Though, you had woken up late and expected there to be more people than normal, you didn’t think it would be too bad. You didn’t like being touched by strangers, but you didn’t have a car or even a bicycle to give you any other option.

The bus driver instructed everyone to make three rows, which caused you get up close and personal with the people around you. Satisfied, he pressed on the gas pedal and began to drive towards the main campus. A hand fell on your shoulder, then grabbed onto one of your backpack straps currently sliding past your shoulder and down your arm. You looked over your shoulder to thank them, but then lost all train of thought when you recognized them immediately.

“Hey, backpack girl,” he greeted, patting your shoulder when he readjusted your strap for you.

“H-Hello,” you shyly said back, turning your attention back to the girl standing in front of you.

When the bus stopped suddenly, a pedestrian choosing to run across the street without looking, your back fell into his chest. The hand that wasn’t holding onto the handrail overhead fell to your waist, your shirt having ridden up slightly so all he could feel there was smooth, bare skin.

You turned your head slightly, muttering your thanks, and then the bus doors were opening. Your stop wasn’t for another fifteen minutes but you would simply wait for another bus. He was making you nervous again without even doing anything and you needed a moment to yourself to calm down.

Other people followed you off the bus, walking over to the crosswalk, but you approached the bench. You placed your backpack against your legs, closing your eyes for a moment as you sat down. When you opened them, you were greeted by that growing smile you were dreading to see.

“Did you follow me?” you asked, surprised at yourself for sounding so competent.

“I don’t just sit on my porch all day with my dick hanging out, you know.”

You gave him a small smile at that. “I meant did you follow me off the bus?”

“You just happened to get off at my stop, backpack girl.”

He sat beside you on the bench with a thud, spreading his legs as he glanced at you.

“My name isn’t ‘backpack girl,’” you returned quietly and folded your hands in your lap.

“Yeah? I asked you what your name was last week but you didn’t answer me.”

“O-Oh,” you said and looked at him through your peripheral vision. “Right.”

“So?” he asked, leaning forward. “What’s your name? I’m Jungkook.”

You were still looking at him from the side, trying your best not to look down at his crotch. Glancing down at the hand placed between the two of you, your eyes followed the bulging veins from the back of his hand, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. Looking him in the eye at that, you realized he’d already been staring at you. He didn’t seem to notice you staring at his hand, though. Quietly, you muttered your name and he repeated it to himself.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jungkook said with a charming smile. “Except we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered and felt the familiar rush of blood to your cheeks.

Standing up, you muttered a quiet goodbye and then walked over to the stop light. Instead of him letting you leave, however, he followed after you, standing to your left as the two of you waited for the light to change. You looked both ways to make sure no one was coming before you crossed the busy street, the light still red. He, however, was paying more attention than you and pulled you back onto the sidewalk as a car drove past you and honked.

“The light was red.”

“I-I know.”

“You’re really cute, you know that?” he asked you with a light chuckle.

“I’m n-not, but thank you.”

The light indicated you could now cross the street and he let go of your arm.

“Promise to watch where you’re going!” he yelled after you.

Once you safely crossed the street, you waved back at him with a shy smile.

“Bye!” he yelled again, cupping his hands over his mouth. “I gotta get back to the bus stop!”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and then you yelled back, “I thought that was your stop!”

He gave you a cheeky grin at that.

I lied, he mouthed back.

Jungkook wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

It wasn’t like you had a bad thought about him in the first place. You assumed he was a good person and that it was simply an accident that you saw his penis, which you had long forgotten about—for the most part. You no longer avoided his house to take a different bus. Instead, you bravely walked by each day and he would sometimes be sitting on his porch to wave at you. Sometimes, he would stop you just to talk, simply to ask you how you were or ask you what you thought of a new movie.

One morning, however, he wasn’t there.

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It wasn’t like he was there every day—because sometimes, he told you, he would sleep in or go to the gym early in the morning. But a faint knock on the window had your heart beating a little faster than normal. Maybe he was home but just wasn’t outside. Pausing outside his house, you looked for which window he was knocking from.

But it was not a knock.

Instead, you saw a naked woman being pressed against a window. Your eyes widened at that, your phone that you’d been holding in your right hand falling onto the sidewalk. Bending over, you picked it up, thankful it had a cover on it, then glanced back at the window. Her breasts were squished against the glass and you could make out another figure directly behind her, reaching in front of her to grab at her lower regions. Didn’t he remember that you walked by his house every day at the exact same time? As you continued to stare in shock, her eyes slowly opened, looking directly at you and—

Oh, God.

Your hand covered your mouth, knowing exactly what was happening there. Before you could stop yourself, you were running past his house as fast as you could, nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. You heard the front door opening with a slam but you continued to run, even after you heard his rushed footsteps follow after you and him yell your name multiple times.

Just before his house disappeared from view, you stopped and looked over your shoulder. He was only wearing a pair of boxers, but you were thankful he at least put on some clothes. Thinking that you already ran away, he looked up at the sky and ran his tongue past the seam of his lips. He kicked a rock across his front lawn and then cursed to himself before heading back inside. Just before the front door shut, you saw the naked girl stop in front of him and attempt to talk to him. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but it looked like he wasn’t happy with her as the door closed shut.

He must have just forgotten that you walked by every day. Why else would he be having sex with a girl against a window knowing that? Your eyes brimmed with tears, but you didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you liked him like that—romantically. He was very attractive and he was nice to you, but you didn’t know what you felt for him exactly. The two of you had only been talking for a week and that wasn’t enough time at all for you to like someone in that way, especially when you knew he had girls over all the time to have sex with them. He told you that much about him, at least.

After that, you stopped walking by his house.

You missed talking to him and you missed seeing him, but you were a little more than upset with him to care about his feelings. Did he even care that you stopped walking by? Maybe this was what he wanted all along; maybe he found your presence annoying and just wanted you to leave him alone. Surely he could’ve just told you that but that’s what your anxiety was telling you—and you believed it.

After you had been studying for hours and felt like your head was about to explode one night, your mind drifted back to him as it always did—him and that girl pressed up against the window. You had never watched porn before in your life, as you wanted to keep your innocence intact, but you couldn’t help but wonder how it felt to have sex with him like she had. What did it feel like? If he had girls over all the time just for that, he must’ve been good enough for them to always keep coming back.

You thought she was the same girl that was staying at his house that one time, though. For reasons you couldn’t yet explain or even understand, you felt jealous. It seemed like she was always at his house and maybe he was always naked because they were just having sex all the time. She was probably his girlfriend or maybe she was just a friend that he liked to have sex with—more so than any of the other girls he had sex with. Even if that’s all she was, you still felt envious of her. She could see him whenever she wanted, talk to him whenever she wanted. But you? You only saw him once every day at seven o'clock in the morning, and all you ever could do was wave.

For the first time in a long time, you were frustrated with your quiet nature. You couldn’t even speak more than a few words to him without getting flustered and now you had ruined it. Getting so upset over him having sex with a girl was completely ridiculous, but that’s how you felt.

Maybe you liked Jungkook a lot more than you thought you did.

Usually you made men uncomfortable with your quiet way of speaking and how you wouldn’t look them directly in the eye, but he didn’t mind at all. He thought you were cute and would tell you that whenever he felt like it. No one else had called you cute before in your life, except for your grandma when you were five years old. Somehow, you only liked it when he called you cute. You realized that you valued his opinion way too much, and that was clear from how sad you were from not seeing him.

For a fleeting second, you wondered what it would be like to have sex with him—vividly. What would it be like if, instead of that girl, it was you having sex with him? You covered your eyes at that thought out of embarrassment. That was just completely out of the question, something you shouldn’t even be thinking about at all. All you felt for Jungkook was attraction.

He didn’t care about you at all.

Even with that thought on your mind, as you laid in bed, your hand slowly drifted past your pajama shorts, touching yourself down there for the first time. The patch of hair made it awkward at first, but then your finger circled your outer lips and you let out a gasp at the sensation.

Would Jungkook touch you down there if you asked?

You closed your eyes, imagining your fingers were his instead. If his fingers were similar to the size of his penis, they would be long and able to reach places that yours couldn’t. Without even thinking twice about it, your other hand grasped one of your breasts through your baggy t-shirt, then rolled your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. It felt so good and there was so much wetness down there just from thinking about him touching you. You pulled your hand out of your warm center and slowly opened your eyes to look at it. It was coated with your own juices and somehow, that made you feel even more turned on than you already did. Letting go of your breast, you reached down and spread your lips open with your fingers so that the fingers on your other hand could go back to their caressing, but this time, you shoved the tip of your forefinger inside your tight hole.

It felt strange and almost uncomfortable, but after a few minutes, you were able to stick your entire finger all the way inside of you. You couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if it was his finger instead. Adding another, your inner walls stretched even more at the new digit inside of you.

I am a good girl, you chanted in your head. I don’t do things like this. I am a good girl.

Even thinking that, though, you knew it wasn’t true. Something was very wrong with you for having such impure thoughts about a boy you rarely saw except for in the morning. You thought back to how he’d pressed that girl against the window. How would it feel to be in her place?

Your hips stuttered at that, the speed of your fingers increasing. All your mind was thinking about was Jungkook—how hard he would press you into that window, how hard he would fuck you into that window. Your fingers suddenly weren’t enough; you wanted his fingers inside of you.

“J-Jungkook,” you moaned quietly to yourself, your legs twitching.

Then you pulled your fingers out of you and began to caress your outer lips again, pausing when you touched yourself in a certain way that shot an intense amount of pleasure through you. You pinched at your lips and tried to locate the same spot near where your outer lips met at the top of your vagina.

“Oh, God…” you couldn’t help but cry out loudly, squeezing your thighs together for some friction.

The sensation felt so good, but it also made you feel different as well. You wanted to keep going but you also wanted to stop, which was what you did.

This was not what you should be doing. It was just going to make things worse for you. Jungkook would have sex with you and then never speak to you again, or at least that’s what you told yourself. He would deflower you and leave you out to dry like a dirty sock.

At that thought, warm tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

And as you laid in your bed, your fingers coated in your own juices, you cried.

The next few days after that, you felt physically and emotionally drained. You couldn’t even get out of bed, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to. Never had you felt so ashamed of yourself because this was all because of a boy. Your parents would be ashamed of you if they knew, too.

And that made you feel even worse.

They would be disgusted by your behavior you and probably think to themselves what they did so wrong to raise such a horrible excuse for a daughter. And they had every right to think that.

After a week of skipped classes and homework piling up more and more each day, you found yourself lying in the front lawn of your apartment building late one night. It was the weekend and no one would care if they saw a crying girl on the grass. They would let you self-deprecate in peace.

With a half-empty bottle of straight vodka on its side by your head, you opened your eyes.

“Hey, man,” you heard a familiar voice say to someone else, then they asked if you lived here.

You sat up so quickly at that your head began to spin. The conversation was distant enough that you could tell they were talking right in front of the building near the street. Placing a hand on your forehead, you strained your ears to listen, even though your brain was screaming at you to die.

When you heard nothing, you assumed they left and laid back down on the ground, taking a swig of vodka as you did. The burn was unpleasant but you welcomed it and took another.

“Yeah, but how do you know her exactly?”

“Uh… It’s kind of a long story.”

“All right, man. Well, she’s in #10.”

You gulped at that, hoping that it was so late in the evening now that he wouldn’t see you in the dark.

You heard a car starting and footsteps getting closer as they traipsed up the driveway, then you peeked through half-closed eyelids to see a shadow looming over you.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Whoever you’re d-dialing can’t be r-reached,” you slurred, batting the person standing beside you away with your hand like they were a fly buzzing around your head. “Try…" You started to hiccup, enough that you just gave up on finishing your sentence.

“Oh, Jesus…”

He knelt at your side, prying the bottle of vodka out of your hands with a sigh. You faintly remembered hearing him ask himself how you managed to get vodka in the first place, but then he was tossing the bottle somewhere behind him on the grass. It clinked when it rolled into the fence surrounding the nearby garbage bin, then he grabbed one of your arms to get you to stand up. He called your name once, then several times to get your attention.

“Can you hear me right now?”

You groaned in response.

“Shit. You’re so fucked up.”

He pulled at your arms like you were some sort of rag doll, your face falling into the crook of his neck easily from his strength. Another sigh escaped him, but it didn’t seem like he was bothered. Reaching for your legs, he easily pulled you into his chest and carried you down the driveway bridal style.

“W-Where are we goin’?” you managed to ask and attempted to focus on his face. Your hands idly hung around his neck and he suddenly paused, hoisting you further up his body.

“My house. Is that okay?”

Your head fell against his shoulder, blacking out for a few seconds at a time. He resumed walking when you didn’t say anything back. When you opened your eyes again after what felt like only seconds, you were lying on a couch inside someone’s house. The sight of a large ceiling fan greeted you when you did, and then you glanced around what appeared to be a living room.

“Jungkook,” you heard a voice say. “Why is there a drunk girl on our couch right now?”

“You know, it’s a funny story…”

“And you know what else is a funny story? That whenever you say something is a ‘funny story,’ it actually isn’t a ‘funny story’ at all because you did something stupid.”

Jungkook sighed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, shit. You’re right. I gotta get going, but you better not let her puke on the carpet.”

The door slammed with a shut and you heard Jungkook sigh again, then watched as he carried one of the dining room chairs in front of you to take a seat. Your eyes fell onto his thighs, the back of the chair facing you and him sitting on it with his legs spread open.

“You’re conscious,” he said after a few seconds, smiling in relief.

“Jungkook,” you started to say, “why weren’t you there that morning?”

It was a vague question but somehow he knew exactly what you meant.

“I’m so fucking sorry you had to see that. I didn’t even— It didn’t even register that… I’m sorry.”

You sat up, rubbing at your temples for a moment. He went to reach for you in an attempt to steady you, but you backed away from him and pressed yourself more into the couch.

“It’s fine,” you said, which was a lie. “Can you take me home?”

“Y-Yeah. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

You wanted to lie again and tell him you were fine, but somehow you couldn’t even do that. Even after passing out, you still could feel the alcohol pumping through your veins, giving you a false sense of confidence. You knew if you were even slightly sober, you wouldn’t have said a word.

“No, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

You stood up, your head spinning as you did and almost causing you to topple over. Raising a hand, you gestured that you were fine and could walk by yourself without his help.

It was awkward as you stumbled over to his front door, trying to open it but not realizing it was locked. He reached over your shoulder, his large hand encasing your own on the door knob so he could unlock it, then offered you a small smile. You didn’t return it, though.

He silently followed you outside, walking behind you quietly.

“Are you sure you're—”

“I said I’m fine.”

He didn’t say another word after that. Cars drove by but that was all you heard as the two of you slowly made your way past the houses separating his house from your own.

“You know what? I’m not. I’m a little intoxicated right now—”

He snorted softly at that, agreeing with you.

“—and so I’m probably going to say something dumb. Usually I wouldn’t even be speaking more than two words to you but right now I don’t give a shit. That’s right. I know what that word means.”

You spun around to face him, breathing heavily after your outburst.

“I’m fucking pissed at you. You knew I would be walking by but then I saw— And I know we’re not even friends. We’re complete strangers, but I figured you could at least keep your dick in your pants for even just one second because I thought we— I thought y-you l-liked me like I like y-you.”

“I do lik—!”

“I am talking right now, Jungkook,” you hissed, taking a step forward. “As I was saying… I thought— But I guess I was wrong. You probably only started talking to me in the first place because you wanted to stick your dick in me, right? Why else would you talk to someone as socially awkward and quiet as me?”

You turned back around, then, with your back facing him. He didn’t have much to say in response, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t think of what to say. The two of you continued towards your building in silence again. You crossed your arms, so many things left unsaid between you two.

When you reached your driveway, you threw a glance over your shoulder.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you quietly said. “I won’t be walking by anymore so you can screw whoever you want wherever you want without worrying about me, if you even did at all.”

Then you wobbled your way up the driveway, set on storming into your room to take a long nap. Though, it was late at night already so that would probably just be called sleeping.

“Wait!” he yelled after you, but didn’t make a move to go after you. “Will you just— Fucking hold on.”

You heard his rushed footsteps behind you, then he grabbed your shoulder to spin you around. He pulled back at the sight of tears brimming in your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I do fucking like you. I do but I… I’m not good enough for you. No one is good enough for you.”

“Don’t you think I should be the one to decide that?” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did.”

You pulled your arm out of his grasp and tried to walk back up the driveway, but then he was grabbing for your arm again, this time pushing you into the fence surrounding the garbage bin. Surprised, you looked up at him. He bit into his lip, seeming to make up his mind about something.

“You’re not… making this fucking easy on me, you know?”

Then he was kissing you.

His arms caged you into the fence, angling his head as he sucked your upper lip into his mouth. Your eyes blinked rapidly, still trying to process what was happening. His lips felt chapped but also soft at the touch, something you hadn’t been expecting. You’d been kissed before but they were only pecks on the lips and definitely nothing as searing hot as his mouth. You felt his tongue lick across the seam of your lips, and your eyes closed on reflex at that as you slowly opened your mouth for him.

“I shouldn’t be…” he mumbled against your lips, returning his tongue into your mouth. Seeming to have forgotten what he was trying to say, his words just trailed off into the air.

One of his hands fell from the wooden fence and skimmed down your sides, stopping at your waist and maneuvering under your shirt to feel the warm skin there. Compared to your heated body, his hands were like ice cubes but you didn’t want him to stop touching you. Even just kissing him was something you didn’t want to stop doing. His other hand followed soon after, both of them gliding at a snail’s pace across the skin at your back. Your eyes snapped open when he roughly pulled you against him and your breasts pressed against his firm chest. It was like your body was on fire and you could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest. You wondered if he could hear it, too.

He exhaled through his nose after a few seconds and pulled away from your mouth to trail kisses from your chin to down your neck. Your hands bunched up the fabric at his collar as you stood there and let him do whatever he wanted to you. You hadn’t ever been kissed like how he was kissing you, ravaging your neck with such an intensity you found it hard to think straight. His teeth nipped at the skin there lightly, which caused you to let out a gasp. After placing a chaste kiss there, he breathed heavily into your neck for a moment, pulling back after a while to look at you. The hands holding you to him at your back suddenly slid further up your shirt and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Your eyes opened again to see him staring down at you with raw desire. He bent his head forward to kiss you once as if he couldn’t help himself—a fleeting peck—and then he pulled away again. You moaned lowly from the back of your throat at the loss of contact and he licked his lips, scanning your face under the glow of the dim streetlight. Your lips felt bruised and wet with his own saliva and yours.

He leant forward again and pressed a kiss against your temple, then one softly to your cheek. Pulling away one last time, the two of you just stared at each other in awe. You didn’t know what to say and definitely hadn’t been expecting him to kiss you ten minutes ago—especially not like that.

And then a car was honking at the two of you, gesturing for you to get out of the way so they could find a parking spot without hitting you. Jungkook grabbed at your waist, his hands at your back sliding around to grip your sides. Then his hands were gone, skimming down the length of your arm to hold onto your hand tightly and drag you around the garbage bin to let them drive past you.

When they were gone, disappearing behind the building, he looked back down at you.

“So, um…” he said, panting slightly. “That was… something…”

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at your feet in embarrassment.

He sensed that and instantly felt regret, not from kissing you but from doing so without your permission. He hadn’t even asked you if it was okay with you—he just did it without thinking.

“I’m sorry. I—” he started to say, then cut himself off. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately, huh?”

You snapped up your head to look at him. “It’s okay! I’m fine. Don’t apologize.”

Every time he looked at you, all he could remember was how warm you felt inside your mouth. For a moment, his thoughts went south. He had to get you back in your room before he made things worse.

“Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“Y-Yeah. I can find my way. Don’t worry about me,” you assured with a warm smile. He let go of your hand after realizing he was still holding onto it somewhat tightly. “I’m… I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“I’m sorry for kissing you,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be.” You tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “I… I liked it, so thank you.”

His hands twitched at his sides at what you said, his brain screaming at him to get away from you.

You turned around and began to walk up the pathway to your building, opening the door. Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a small wave and smiled at him. Before you disappeared inside, however, he was running over to you and grabbing onto the door frame.

“Listen… uh…” he began and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Can I make it up to you? For kissing you and for… you know. I’m throwing a party tomorrow night. You should come.”

Your hands held onto the side of the door, his hand holding onto the door frame inches from your own.

“O-Okay,” you agreed, smiling. “If you want me to come, I will.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief, smiling back at you. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You nodded and he nodded back, awkwardly. Waving one last time, you closed the door in his face. After you walked down the hallway to unlock your door and disappeared from sight, he breathed deeply through his nose, able to think straight for the first time in what seemed like two hours. He moved to walk back down the driveway and go to sleep in his own bedroom, looking over his shoulder at the door several times as he did.

“God, I’m fucked…” he mumbled to himself, wondering if inviting you to his party was a good idea.

You fell asleep late that night, not waking up until half-past noon the next morning. It wasn’t something you could help, though, as you couldn’t stop thinking about him and that kiss. Now, at a quarter until nine o'clock at night, you pulled back your covers and walked over to your mirror. Was going to his party such a good idea? Maybe all he wanted to do was talk to you and hang out with you, but what if he was with one of those girls? You would just get angry with him again and it wouldn’t be anyone else’s fault but your own.

Going through your closet, you took at least ten minutes to pick out what to wear. You wanted to impress him but also didn’t want him to know you were trying to impress him, so you went with a simple blouse paired with a somewhat short skirt. You hadn’t shaved your legs in two days, but the hair growing back wasn’t that noticeable. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror one last time, you pulled your hair so it was halfway up and secured it with a ponytail. You didn’t wear heavy makeup, mascara and light foundation the most you wore on a good day, but you put on some red lipstick anyway.

He didn’t tell you what time the party started and you didn’t even have his phone number, but you knew the second you heard the loud bass vibrating against your wall. Locking your door behind you, you slowly walked down the driveway with butterflies in your stomach. It was already an hour after the music started and you wondered if he was still waiting for you to show up.

He probably already forgot about you.

You walked across his lawn, the tips of the grass blades tickling your toes in your flip flops, intending to awkwardly knock on the front door. Running through your head what you would say to him inside, you didn’t even notice a figure sitting on the porch until they were waving at you.

It was Jungkook.

“Hey,” he called over to you, standing up. “You took your sweet time getting over here.”

You giggled shyly to yourself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be waiting for me outside.”

He removed the hoodie from over his head, running a hand through his black hair. You looked him up and down from his dark wash jeans to his baggy, loose-fitting sweatshirt, finding the sight of his hands digging into his front jean pockets really attractive for some reason. Your eyes finally trailed back up to his face to see if he had caught you staring only to see he was doing the same to you.

“Cute,” he said after a moment, one corner of his lips tilting up into a lopsided grin. “Come on.”

With his hands still in his jean pockets, he gestured with his elbow for you to follow him inside. You did as he said, then he paused at the front door, holding it open for you.

“Ladies first.”

Upon entering his house for the second time, it was loud and crowded with people huddled together in every corner. The bass was even louder inside—which you didn’t think was even possible—and you anxiously looked behind you in hopes of seeing Jungkook not far behind. As an introvert, parties never appealed to you. Even hanging out in a small group gave you intense anxiety, so you were definitely the type to hug the corners of a wall at a party or hang out with their pets instead of getting drunk.

As he walked over to stand at your side, he could tell you were anxious and grabbed your hand, pulling you into the kitchen. A few guys greeted him with that weird shake that guys do. He grinned back that, making small talk for a moment, before his eyes fell back onto you.

“You’re not twenty-one, are you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you playfully.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “No. I’m only eighteen.”

“I knew it,” he said with a laugh, stepping away from the counter littered with beer bottles and half-full red solo cups. “I figured you were a freshman the moment I saw you.”

After digging through the fridge, he pulled out a pitcher of apple juice, pouring you a cup.

“You should have some, too,” you said with a giggle.

“Nah.” He smiled down at you from across the counter at that. “Orange juice is more my thing.”

You let out a loud at that, then covered your mouth with one of your hands in embarrassment.

“God, you’re cute,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “I like hearing you laugh, so don’t hide it.”

You took a sip of your apple juice at that, the cool drink sliding down your throat a nice contrast to the heat spreading over your cheeks. He continued to look at you, his elbows resting against the cool countertop. Feeling yourself getting a little too hot, either from him staring at you or all the sweat in the air from the bodies inside the house, you asked if there was a bathroom you could use.

“Yeah,” he replied and pointed behind you to the stairs. “It’s just upstairs and on your right.”

You muttered your thanks, setting your apple juice on the counter, then brushed past some people to find the stairs. Glancing over your shoulder once, you could see Jungkook watching you across the room.

As you quickly padded up the stairs, disappearing down the hallway. Jungkook took a swig of beer, giving himself some liquid courage before he followed you up the stairs. This was his chance to talk to you away from all his friends and various drunk people he didn’t know he invited. Although he wasn’t sure how well it would go, he couldn’t keep it in the shadows any longer. He ran up the stairs, skipping steps, and heard the faucet turn on. Licking his lips nervously, he knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” he heard back and he had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s me,” he said after a few seconds. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You opened the door, looking at him with curious, wide eyes. Stepping away to give him enough room to walk inside, he slowly brushed past you into the bathroom.

“It’s quieter here,” he mumbled, looking around as if it wasn’t the same bathroom he used every day.

“Yeah,” you agreed and looked at him expectantly with folded arms.

“You remember when you saw me naked that one time?”

“How could I ever forget?”

He laughed at that. “I’m sorry about that, but I just wanted to explain. I know that happened a month ago but you probably are still wondering about that. It was a little weird, huh?”

“A little bit…” you quietly replied, smiling shyly.

“I… I’m a, uh… I’m an exhibitionist.”

You could only stare up at him at that. Uncrossing your arms, you asked, “You’re a… You’re a what?”

“Exhibitionist. It means I get turned on when people see me naked. It’s a kink of—”

“Wh— Uh… You…”

“Maybe I should’ve transitioned you into this more gently…”

“M-Maybe. Does… Does that mean that you did that on purpose?!”

“No, no, no! It was an accident!” he frantically reassured you, waving his hands wildly. “I didn’t know you were going to be walking by—trust me. But I… may or may not have gotten turned on by…”

“…me seeing you naked?”

It was awkwardly silent and if you weren’t in the room, he would probably be kicking himself in the nuts for making you uncomfortable. He hadn’t even planned out what he was going to say to you or how. All he knew was he wanted to clear things up and try to make you understand him a little bit.

His head fell against the wall, tucking his hands into his front jean pockets. “That came out wrong.”

“Maybe… Maybe I should go…” you slowly said, already taking a step towards the closed door.

“Wait!” he yelled, moving himself to block off the door. “Hold on. I’m fucking sorry that this is probably making you uncomfortable but this isn’t actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Then what is it you wanted to say?”

“I… Ah, fuck. I’m usually good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“I know you’re not that type of girl.”

“Type of girl?”

“I know how you’re going to respond but…”

“But what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “No one ever walks by my house early in the morning. I didn’t do it on purpose just to pop a boner. I didn’t even know you were there until…”

The two of you recalled at the same time how you had run away screaming.

“But that’s not what I wanted to say. I think you’re really fucking adorable. I’m kind of obvious about it, so you probably knew that already. And you also know that I hook up with a lot of girls at… here…”

You anxiously glanced at the door knob behind him.

“It turns me on when someone sees me naked and it turns me on to even fuck in public because just the thought of someone walking in on me with my dick out is… Fucking hell. Just the thought of it is… It’s never even mattered who it was or who I’m with either. I’ll fuck anyone anywhere and I’ll be… good to go. I’ve never really chased after anyone for sex because of it. But there’s… there’s something so fucking special about you. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes…”

“God,” he groaned, closing his eyes as his head made a thud when it banged against the door. “I figured as much. I could just tell by how you act.”

You now understood where he was going with this as you glanced down at his bulging erection straining against the front of his jeans, backing yourself into the sink. Your hands came to rest on the edge and gripped onto the porcelain tightly until your knuckles turned white. He probably thought that this was freaking you out but it actually was making you feel something down there.

And that made you very nervous.

“I want to fuck you so bad.”

You sucked in a breath at that, your legs shaking slightly but hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I haven’t had a good fuck in such a long time because all I can think about is you. Knowing you’ve never had sex before makes it even worse. You don’t even know how close I was to coming into your room last night and bending you over your desk—how close I was to pounding into you so hard that everyone in your fucking building would hear you screaming.”

“I… um…”

“And I’m not telling you this so that I can force you into anything you don’t want to do. I know you’re not that type of girl and would never force myself on anyone. I just needed to get this off my chest. I want to fuck you so badly, but I know you’re not into me like that. You’re probably waiting until marriage or some fairytale shit like that. I’m telling you this so that you stay the fuck away from me. Do you know how many times a day I pop a boner just from thinking about fucking you? It doesn’t even matter where—in a car, in this fucking bathroom, in the street. I would strangle a person just to bury my dick in you for even one fucking second.”

Instead of running past him and out the front door like a normal person, you stayed rooted to the spot. You bit into your bottom lip, then looked up at him to see him staring at your mouth.

“Okay.”

He blinked, his mouth falling open. “Okay? What are you—”

“I’ll have sex with you.”

He opened his mouth to object again, even though he was the one who brought it up, but you stepped forward and away from the sink. Did he really think just because you were a virgin you wouldn’t? He had to know how ridiculously good looking he was; the old lady across the street would even agree.

All you could think about the past week was the exact same thing he’d been thinking about. You wanted him to bend you over your desk. You wanted him to fuck you, even just for a second. You wanted him to fuck you so hard that all your neighbors would hear you screaming. All your fantasies of getting married to the perfect guy and giving your virginity to him on your wedding night on top of a bed littered with rose petals was out the window.

“I want you, too,” you whispered, grabbing onto his forearms.

His breath hitched at that, and then he was leaning more into the door to back away from you. You pulled buck, letting go of his arms as a hurt expression crossed your face.

“But you don’t want to,” you said quietly.

“I-I do! It’s just… Have you been fucking listening to me?” He reached for one of your hands but you backed into the sink again, looking at a crack in the wall instead of looking him in the eye. “I just… It would be a mistake before—”

“Mistake?” you asked him and your eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sorry for… I’m sorry.”

And then you were brushing past him to walk downstairs, the front door getting closer with each step. Jungkook didn’t even go after you, just stood there after you squeezed past him. He hadn’t even objected at all. It was the right thing to do, he thought to himself just as you closed the front door.

You didn’t even get to hear the rest of what he had to say.

You felt embarrassed.

You had gone above and beyond and actually told him you wanted to have sex with him, and then he just rejected you like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard in his life. You understood that he thought he was doing the right thing but he seemed to make up his mind on what you wanted. Once again, he was treating you like you were some porcelain doll that couldn’t make her own decisions. Why had he even brought it up if he wasn’t interested in that with you anyway? He made it sound like he was, but then he confused you when you shot you down like that. You didn’t understand what he wanted.

Days went by and you kept walking by his house, hoping he would change his mind, but he was never outside on the porch to wave at you like he had been before. You knew he was home but simply didn’t want to talk to you. Maybe it was for the best, you thought. You shouldn’t let one boy change your mind on whether or not you wanted to have sex before marriage. Your parents would be proud.

One particular day, however, it was raining hard.

You held your backpack above your head as you ran and you faintly heard the bus driving down the street after you got off at your stop. Looking at the sky, you jumped when you heard thunder. As you sprinted across the street, stepping into various puddles as you did and soaking your socks and shoes, you stopped to see you were standing across the street from Jungkook’s house. The rain had stopped, so you lowered your backpack from over your head, and slowly crossed the street in silence.

In one puddle, you failed to notice there was a large tree branch and fell flat on your face. You let out a cry of pain and slowly pulled yourself to sitting on the back of your heels. Feeling your knee, you pulled your hand back to see you were bleeding, which really wasn’t what you needed at all.

“Ow…” you cried out and felt tears form in the corners of your eyes.

Using the back of your sleeve, you wiped at your eyes just as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You sniffled, but slowly stood to your feet and looked at where the branch had scraped against your skin. Some parts of the wound were deeper than others and you sighed to yourself.

Then you heard a front door opening.

Your head snapped up to see none other than Jungkook jogging down the steps with a hoodie over his head, then stopping in front of you. His eyes trailed down to the wound on your thigh, grimacing.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you answered, pulling down your skirt. You moved to take a step back but faltered slightly. Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your shoulder at that, leading you to his front porch.

“Come on,” he said quietly, and you let him.

Closing the front door, he walked you over to his couch. Your hair was soaking wet from the rain and you left tiny puddles of water behind you on the hardwood floor of his entryway. He jogged up the stairs, telling you he was going to get you a towel, and returned less than a minute later. The couch sank from his weight when he sat next to you and he went to wrap the towel around you, ruffling your hair in an attempt to dry it. He laughed quietly to himself when he squished your cheeks together, your lips puckering cutely.

“How bad was it out there?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“It wasn’t that bad until ten minutes ago,” you answered, taking the towel from his hands. “I had just got off the bus when it started to rain, though. And then it was thundering, too.”

“That sucks,” he supplied. “You can stay here until it stops, if you want.”

You didn’t tell him that it’d already stopped, using the excuse that it would just start raining again if you left straight away.

“T-Thank you.”

You scratched at your leg and his eyes followed the movement, remembering you fell outside.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, looking at your thigh.

“A l-little bit,” you stuttered as you felt him staring at you.

“I got some band-aids. Maybe that’ll help,” he told you, then disappeared up the stairs again.

You listened to the sound of him walking around upstairs, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Glancing around his house, your eyes fell onto the television across the coffee table. Jungkook must’ve been watching something before he invited you inside. Although you’d been in his house twice already, it felt smaller when you knew it was just the two of you inside, unless his roommates were home, too. Sucking in a deep breath, you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, running a finger down the scratch on your leg. It would scab over eventually, so maybe you didn’t need a band-aid—not that a band-aid would even help since you would need a lot of them to even cover your wound. You pulled out your phone from the pocket inside your backpack, thankful you didn’t simply keep it in your back jean pocket because of the rain.

You looked terrible.

Your hair was a mess and already frizzy from the heat. Your mascara wasn’t waterproof so it was a big, black mess under your eyes. You didn’t even know where to start so you just put your phone away, sighing to yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t have come inside and just went home. You only lived two houses away in the first place. Why did you even agree to come inside at all?

Deep down, you already knew the answer.

At the sound of him running down the stairs, you looked over the back of the couch. He held a wad of band-aids in his right hand, the other holding a hand towel.

“I’m back,” he said with a grin.

He sat next to you on the couch again, but then realized it would be an awkward angle. Noticing his discomfort, you turned so that you were facing him and lifted one of your legs onto the cushion. This gave him the perfect view up your skirt and he slowly tugged it down to cover you.

Taking the hand towel, he rubbed down your thigh and you closed your eyes at that. He must’ve soaked it in warm water because it felt very soothing on your bare skin. When you opened your eyes, you couldn’t look away from him as he continued to rub calming circular motions into your skin with his hand. His hair had fallen into his eyes and you wanted more than anything to run your fingers through his hair. The hand that wasn’t holding the towel was also caressing the skin on your other thigh. You wondered if he knew he was doing that but didn’t want him to stop, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Good?” he asked with a laugh when your head fell against the back of the couch, eyes closing in complete submission.

He grabbed onto your angled leg that wasn’t injured, straightening it so your foot was resting between him and the back of the couch. Placing the hand towel on the coffee table, he stared at your wound.

“Shit,” he groaned. “This must hurt a lot. What the hell did you do to yourself?”

“I, uh… I fell into a puddle. There was this giant tree branch there and it got me good, I guess.”

He laughed out loud at that, pulling a fist to his mouth as he did. You couldn’t help but smile back, glad that someone found it funny. Although, it was kind of ridiculous so maybe you did, too. He had the most beautiful laugh, like music to your ears. You knew he could make you smile just the sound of his laughter.

“I thought I told you to watch where you’re going,” he said with a playful smile.

You’d been watching his hand as it gripped your upper thigh, but then your head snapped up to look at him when he said that. He had said something like that back when he followed you off the bus.

He didn’t seem to remember, though, so you said quietly, “Sorry… I was kind of in a hurry to get home.”

“Nah. If it was me, I would’ve wiped out so much harder.”

The two of you smiled at each other for a moment, and then he glanced back down at your thigh. Your wound went even under your skirt and you could tell he wanted to ask you if he could move it but also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Maybe he didn’t want you to get any ideas after what happened at his party. You had basically thrown yourself at him, after all.

You pulled at your skirt, not so much to reveal your underwear but enough to see the rest of your wound. Your eyes widened, not realizing it went so far up your thigh. Jungkook looked at the band-aids he placed on the coffee table for a moment, then said, “We’re going to need some more band-aids.”

He went to move off the couch, but you grabbed his arm. “It’s okay! I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

Slowly, he relaxed back into the couch, your hand still grasping onto his arm. You didn’t let go of him and he noticed as he stared at your hand.

“Jungkook,” you said in a small voice. “Why didn’t you want to have sex with me? Is there something wrong with me?”

His eyes widened at that, not expecting those words to come out of your mouth at all. Were you crazy? Had you been listening to him at all?

“Maybe you forgot but I seem to remember having a fucking monologue about how much I want to have sex with you,” he said with a laugh but scooted away from you on the couch. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t say that.”

Your hand dropped into your lap when he pulled away. “Then why did you not want to last week?”

“I told you. I don’t want you to make a mistake. What we would be doing would only be physical, and you deserve so much more than that,” he said softly.

“Why do you keep deciding things for me like I’m a child?”

You stood up, pulling your leg out from him and the couch. Grabbing your backpack leant against the coffee table, you placed its straps on your shoulders and pulled back your hair, heading for the door.

Instead of sitting there like you expected him to, he followed after you and placed a hand on the door when you went to open it. You jumped back, surprised, and clutched your hands to your chest. He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, his pupils dilated with what appeared to be raw need.

“You’re not making things easy for me.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand you at all, Jungkook. You’ll have sex with all these other girls but you won’t with me. Why am I so different? Is it because I’m inexperienced?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“You’re special.”

“Special?”

“I don’t want to just fuck you. I was going to… I was going to ask you out that night but I— I don’t— I stopped inviting them over and haven’t had sex for two weeks now. I wanted to do this right.”

You closed your mouth, all the words on the tip of your tongue fading into the air. He was going to ask you out? Why didn’t he?

“I like you so much that it drives me crazy.”

“I like you, too,” you said quietly, “but you seem to think I’m this good girl that isn’t deserving of anybody. You’re not my father or my brother or— Maybe you were right about me when we first met but… I’m attracted to you, too, and it wouldn’t be a mistake if we had sex right now. I promise you it wouldn’t be a mistake.”

Your backpack straps began to slip down the length of your arms and you let it fall to the ground with a thud. Taking a step closer, you lifted up your skirt and grabbed one of Jungkook’s hands. Without losing your nerve, you placed it over your drenched underwear and his eyes went wide.

“I want you, Jungkook.”

His head fell against the door, closing his eyes in almost defeat. He groaned out loud, cursing to himself. He grabbed your arm and pulled you against him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

And then he was turning you around, pressing you into the door. His hands blindly pulled at the hem of your skirt, it pooling around your ankles a second later. He pressed his chest firmly against your back with him breathing heavily into your neck. You could feel his erection against you and sighed.

It was such a relief for you when he slipped his hand into your underwear.

“You’re fucking drenched,” he whispered into your ear, then licked the shell of your ear. “You don’t even need foreplay, do you?”

You wiggled your hips against his crotch in confirmation and he groaned at that.

“Fucking humor me, though, will you?”

And then his fingers were rubbing furiously at your sweet spot in a circular motion. Your head began to spin as you thought he knew exactly where to touch you. Thinking back to when you masturbated to him fucking you, you realized it felt so much better having someone else touch you. Your hips ground against him each time he gently pinched you in a certain spot and you exhaled shakily, enough to fog the door’s glass panels. You looked to his porch and saw two kids playing football across the street and panicked. Could they see what the two of you were doing right now?

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he suddenly asked, then pushed you more into the door, giving you no room to move away. “That someone could see you, see my fingers fucking into your pussy. You want them to see us, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and moaned loudly at his crude words, not willing yourself to agree with him out loud but knowing he was right.

“But we’re not going to give them a show—at least not today.”

Then he was pulling you away from the door without taking his fingers out of your underwear. He rubbed you even as he walked you over to the dining room table, then bent you over. Just as one of his fingers went to your entrance, he pulled it out of you, sucking the digit into his mouth slowly.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked you, smoothing his hands over the skin on your back. Pushing up your shirt, he began to lick and kiss at the skin there before tugging at your underwear. “Huh?”

You heard him undoing his belt buckle, then his jeans fell to the floor a second later. You didn’t hear him pulling down his boxers and realized with a low moan from the back of your throat he hadn’t been wearing any. Your underwear was still around your heel, but he didn’t seem to care. You looked over your shoulder at him to see him looking down at you with a smirk on his face as he stroked himself, then bit your lip when he rolled a condom over the shaft. With each fast movement of his hand up and down his cock, he made sure the condom was secure before he grabbed your hip, using his other hand to guide himself into you slowly. It already felt bigger than your fingers and you groaned, but it wasn’t an unwelcome stretch. He was so thick that even the tip was stroking your walls, leaving no room for even one of his fingers. After the head of his cock was inside of you, he moved his hand away to grip the other side of your hip and thrusted himself forward to slide into you the rest of the way.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, fingers clenching and unclenching at the feeling. He wasn’t moving but you couldn’t form a single competent sentence, amazed at the feeling of him inside of you. There was a small spark deep within you that seemed to flicker on just by the thrust of his hips.

“You okay?” he asked after he stopped moving, rubbing circles in your hips.

You nodded at that and that was all he needed to finally start pounding into you. Moaning into the table, your nails scratched at the wood. You started to press yourself back against him and not just lay there while he fucked you, and then he was pressing down on your back.

“Curve your back downwards,” he whispered into your ear, and you did exactly that.

Almost immediately, you moaned out loudly as you could feel him brushing against a spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and he was grunting as his hips smacked against your ass, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He kept changing the pace—from fast pumps to deep thrusts.

“Can we…” you breathed as he kept hitting that spot inside of you. “Can we move to the couch?”

He didn’t answer you, but simply pulled you against him. Pulling out of you with a wet squelch, you whined lowly, but then he was turning you around and kissing you so hard that you could feel your lips begin to bruise. Your lips were tingling as he pulled away but then his lips brushed against your own again.

“Arms up,” he growled into your mouth, then kissed your bottom lip.

You lifted your arms and he easily pulled your shirt over your head, then reached behind you to undo your bra. At the sight of your bare chest, he cursed to himself, then walked himself backwards and pulled you with him to keep kissing you until you both toppled over onto the couch. He flipped you over onto your back, your hair framing your face beautifully. His eyes softened at that and he settled himself on top of you, kissing your neck, the shell of your ear, until he reached your chest. His tongue swirled around one of your nipples and you moaned loudly, cradling his head to your chest, then he was giving the same attention to your other nipple.

His hand reached down to firmly grasp himself and slip back into you, the both of you moaning in unison. Your underwear was still wrapped around one of your feet somehow and he ran his other hand that was rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger down your stomach torturously slow and to your leg to grab the delicate fabric and toss it somewhere behind him. Then, he was smoothing his hand back up your leg to wrap it around his waist, anchoring you to him. On instinct, you wrapped your other leg around him and he started to hit that same spot he was hitting when you were bent over on the dining room table. You twitched in pleasure and he caught that, smiling down at you.

Your hands bunched the fabric of his t-shirt around his hips, dragging it upwards until he pulled it the rest of the way off and threw it in the same general direction as your underwear.

“You’re always so cute, even like this,” he whispered against your mouth when he leaned down to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you up so you were sitting in his lap. Thrusting into you from below with fast strokes, your head fell back and your lips disconnected. The hands at your back kept you from falling over, then slipped to hold your ass cheeks in his hands.

You moaned loudly, then found his lips again blindly, breathing into his mouth, “This feels s-so g-g-good, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he asked, licking and biting at your swollen lips.

“You’re so big and…” you started to say, then your mouth opened into a silent scream when he gave a deep thrust in appreciation. “You’re getting to places even m-my fingers couldn’t r-reach. I can feel you in my t-throat.”

“Your fingers, huh?”

Your eyes snapped open at that, realizing you just admitted you masturbated out loud. Instead of asking you to go into more detail, he started thrusting into you even faster and your breasts bounced with each movement of his hips.

“H-Harder,” you managed to whisper in a hoarse voice.

Instead of saying anything, he obeyed you and you ran your fingers through his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. You glanced down at where he disappeared inside you with each thrust, whimpering at the sight. His hips were a blurred movement and you felt like he was impaling you on his cock. That spark you felt the moment he thrusted into you felt like it was about to explode any second. He growled into your mouth but kept going at the same pace, your moans urging him to go even faster. You could feel yourself almost reach your peak, but then he was spurting his cum once, twice, three times into the latex condom.

You whined when he pulled out of you, then felt him moving further down the couch to pull you by the back of your legs so his face was inches from your vagina. He looked up at you, as if asking if you were okay with this, and you nodded frantically. He chuckled and it vibrated against you, still sensitive from how hard he’d been fucking into you just minutes ago. He licked an experimental strip from the bottom of you all the way to where your lips met, sucking your bundle of nerves between his lips. You’d been so close already that you knew it wouldn’t take you long to reach your first orgasm.

One of your hands fell back against the arm of the couch and gripped it tightly. When he added in a finger and started pushing it in and out of you at a slow yet deep pace, you arched your back. He alternated from using his fingers to penetrate you and circle your clit. Your hips began to grind against his face, whispering desperately for him to go faster, to go harder.

Your legs closed instinctively when the hot feeling inside of you felt like it was about to burst, having never orgasmed before. It made you want him to stop but have him keep going at the same time. He easily pried your legs apart and held them there as he went back to using his tongue instead of his fingers. You couldn’t control yourself as you kept moaning—and loudly, at that.

And then you were coming apart on his tongue.

He pulled back with your cum coating his chin, then wiped it off with the back of his hand. After a few seconds, your eyes opened tiredly, beaming up at him.

“Did you…” you tried to ask, but were panting too heavily. “Did you mean… what you said?”

He stood up and removed the condom, throwing it into the trash. Pulling your spent form up so that he could situate you between him and the back of the couch, you stared at each other happily.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” he said with a soft laugh.

“About…” you trailed off and your fingers danced across the skin of his sweaty chest. The fringe that always fell in his eyes was matted to his forehead but you could feel a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face, too. He looked into your eyes, curling you more into your chest. “…going out with me?”

“You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” he whispered, pecking your lips once, then another before he pulled away. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think you’d want a relationship with me and just wanted to…” You hesitated, then continued, “fuck.”

He sat up slightly. “Let me just remind you that this happened because of you. I wanted to wait but you practically threw yourself at me and gave me no choice but to give into your demands.”

Your cheeks burned at that, then you were shoving at his chest. “That’s not—! I didn’t throw myself at yo— Fine, maybe I did, but who was the one who followed me into a bathroom just to tell me how badly he wanted to fuck me, huh? I seem to remember that was you.”

“Say fuck just one more time,” he said, and you sat up, rolling your eyes.

“Why? You say it enough for the both of us.”

He laughed but didn’t push you any further. Standing to his feet, he offered you the palm of his hand and you accepted it. You looked around for your underwear, then walked over to it in a pile with his jeans and boxers. Just as you started to slide them up your legs, however, he stopped you.

“Take those panties off right now.”

You paused, the delicate fabric halfway up your thighs, and looked over at him in surprise. Did he want to… Already?

“Not for that, but you should try living the exhibitionist lifestyle,” he said with a grin. “Feel how freeing it is. Walk with me.”

When you didn’t move, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, tossing your panties behind him once again. You pounded your fists against his back but not with any force behind them. He just laughed and you felt the vibrations, smiling into his bare back.

“So, I’m thinking we go to a drive-in theater tomorrow.”

You perked up at that as he set you down on the kitchen counter. “Really? I love the movies.”

“That’s nice but we’re not going there to see a movie,” he said with a sly grin.

“We’re not going to be driving there naked, are we?”

He moved to take some lunch meat out of the fridge along with some mayonnaise, then went through the cabinets overhead to pull out some white bread. When he dug a butterknife out of one of the drawers, you hopped off the counter and poked at his cheek.

“We’re not, right?” you asked again, but he ignored you. “Jungkook?!”

And that’s when one of his roommates walked in. He let out a sound of protest when one of his shoes kicked at your skirt by the front door, then his eyes fell onto your naked figures arguing in the kitchen.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JUNGKOOK!” he yelled, dropping his backpack to the floor with a thud. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you to put some clothes on—?! Who is sh— I’m going back on campus. I hate you all.”

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muneer120626 · 4 years

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Assignment 2

ID: s120626

Date: May 31, 2020

Number of words: 1446

Course name: Issues in Mass Communication.

Course code: MASS2620

· Introduction:

In this course, we learned about a lot of things related to media and issues in mass communication. In the starting of this course .The model materials talked about critical thinking, how to understand the media, what we are able to know what is behind news and information in the media, what are the roles that the media play in education, health, lifestyle and their ability to alter values and help the society .In addition, in this course we understood media topics, developed media literacy skills and thinking critically and In this assignment, I will summarize and analyze all my submitted materials that I post it on Tumbler. Besides, I will write a critical document by collecting all the topics that I post on Tumbler and course materials together.

· Submitted material:

Disinformation:

Is one of the challenges we face nowadays on media and with the rapid technological development .In addition, Disinformation is false information deliberately and often covertly spread in order to influence public opinion or obscure the truth. It has different goals like achieving government aims, some promoters use it to attract customers and some of people use it for financial incentives. Disinformation is one of the challenges we face nowadays on media and with the rapid technological development.

cognitive strategies:

Media use different strategies and ways to get people to pay attention to his message or goal, understanding small data in today’s world means understanding the verbal and non-verbal communications that are taking place in media.Also to achieve the disinformation goals, by using psychological aspects to manipulate the people and control their actions. For example, using experts or celebrities to talk about products knowing that people will believe them.

Communication used in Cold War, World War I, World War II, The American coalition invasion of Iraq:

The media played an important role in communications during the war. it helped them achieve their goals through it as Influence public opinion, Communication among soldiers sending important alerts, the impact of propaganda . it was People start communication in the First war by carrier pigeons, dogs, newspaper, cartoons and illustration, telephone and telegraph. Then, they started using the radio, cinema, mail and posters in the Second war. Technologies started appearing in the Cold war, people started using the computer, television (black and white) and the propaganda in cinema. Finally, in the American coalition invasion of Iraq people started phone, video conferencing, photography, newspaper and television.

How Media present Race, Gender (men, women,3rd), class:

According to the differences between people and most of them use the internet platforms with different cultures some problems appeared which present or trying to present things in wrong. In addition , media classified some individuals and minorities such as linking Arabs to terrorism. For the class, as we see in movies and ads that show and focus on high class, rich celebrities with their luxury products.

Selfie and narcissism :

Narcissism affects the posting behavior of selfies it seems to attract people's attention and admiration by using it because they think they are physically attractive. For people to obtain social acceptance, they change their behaviors and create a personality other than his reality. Selfie and fame-online is being fake more and more, just to get acceptance.

Hate speech in media content:

Hate speech spread so much in the last period. It happens when attack someone or group or calls for violence against them or bothering them by comments, memes, groups or using words likely to excite hostility or bring into contempt any groups. For example, when someone publishes his picture, we will see hate speech about his appearance in the comments also, An example of that, what's happening now in the world about coronavirus everyone's avoiding chinese people.

The role of media in health education:

The media plays an important role in educating people and informing them of the events and changes that are happening in the world. In the current crisis in Corona, the media play a big role in providing people with accurate information about health .In addition , at a time of epidemics, the media creates videos and images that educate people about prevention. It also organizes interviews with experts and doctors, refutes rumors, teaches people about the disease, and shapes their behavior.

Comics in media:

Visual designs such as illustration or comics are used for multiple purposes, including the delivery of information easily and simply, which helps the general public even children to understand the message or information .In the field of health information, educational comics may have several purposes, including raising awareness of disease symptoms, assisting with decision‐making, promoting self‐management of chronic conditions, or increasing understanding and acceptance of a condition.

The citizens have the right to know everything through media:

Citizens have the right to know the things that concern them and their specialty and inform them of all developments and events that are happening around them, but the media laws and policies limit it and it is difficult to have everything transparent in the media and maybe the media hides some things for the benefit of the citizens and to avoid chaos in the country.

Media ethics challenges:

The media ethics face a lot of challenges especially in crisis times. for example saying the truth, being fair and accurate, bias, hate speech, disinformation and misinformation.

· Analysis:

Most topics are linking with one another in some kind of way, and all topics linked to critical thinking in the first place and , we started our course with critical thinking, which helped us to learn how develop our skills in interpreting, analyzing, reasoning, evaluating and all these, we need it as university students , and all issues that we studied in this course need critical thinking.

The media contributes directly and indirectly to shaping society, either by shaping negative behaviors and beliefs, or positive behaviors such as giving the community different health habits.

It affects negatively as we saw above in terms of disinformation by using cognitive strategies and persuasion techniques like association, bribery, fear, humor, beautiful people, celebrities, experts, explicit, intensity, and name-calling through exploit people's emotions and psychology .Understanding the media can help us learn how to deal with Disinformation and misinformation through media and information literacy, so we know when these techniques used and why.

(Communication in wars/ Disinformation/ Cognitive strategies): There is a relation between disinformation and cognitive strategies. Sometime, people use cognitive strategies to mislead the information or the truth. For example, the creators of fake news use cognitive strategies in creating the misleading information and news to be appealing and attention grabbing.) In wars, they used media to spread disinformation in the enemy country to weaken the morale of the people and dismantling the armies. Besides, they used cognitive to effect on citizens emotions to control the situation during wars.

(disinformation /communication): used through the ages and cognitive strategies. The more communication develops, the more disinformation will spread, the more cognitive strategies will use due to the features of communication.

(narcissism / hate speech): The word bias refers to showing unjustified favoritism toward something or someone. People tend to be one-sided in their perspectives like narcissism, which is a personality trait that is marked by grandiosity and an overly positive self-view, and this can lead to poor decision making and increase the level of hate speech, this appears more with fame online because of easy to use and reach the platforms by all age.

(Cartoon / Health education): There is a great correlation between them because they play the role of awareness and guidance to spread awareness among people about the virus and the current situation that the world suffers from .Comics re becoming increasingly popular as a tool for science education and communication. It is intended to convey information easily because of having attractiveness and emotional attachment, it can explain complex issues, and easy to remember.

(Media challenges/ Two hypothesis): The media ethics challenge emerged because of some issues that are relating to media. For example, the media ethics challenge of public trust and interest it linked with the topic of (citizens have the right to have a clear and transparent media or not). Sometime, media hide the truth from the citizens to avoid making them worried and terrified.

· Conclusion:

I benefited a lot from this course and I learned new media issues, which added to me new experience in analyzing them and knowing hidden information that the media student should notice. Also, I have developed my writing skills, observing, checking and expressing opinion on different media issues. In addition, This assignment made me be able to analytically look at and talk about contemporary media issues.

#Mass2620_20 SQUPR

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sarrbrinton · 4 years

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Opinion Series- Final Draft:

The United States Government-

The percentage of individuals living in poverty in America is not very high, but in America we care for every single one of our members in this country and therefore should want to find a solution to lift these individuals and families up. The solution to poverty is much more than just giving these individuals enough money to survive. The solution to poverty is teaching these individuals how to not only survive in America but to thrive. By providing service within our communities to help the poor we can contribute to this movement.

The Statistics

According to The United States Interagency Council on Homelessness there are over 600,000 people in America, as of 2018 who are living in poverty (Utah Homelessness Statistics, 2018). This number comes from state census counts; public schools also did a count of families and students who they knew of who were living in poor circumstances and the numbers doubled! Some of the major states experiencing homelessness are California, with a census count of 129,972 and a public-school count of 246,296, and Florida, with a census count of 31,030 and a public-school count of 72,042. But there is a positive side to these numbers as well, there are 327.2 million people, as of 2018, that make up the population of the United States. If we double our 600,000 number to 1,200,000 to include the public-school homelessness data, that is still less than 1% of Americans who were living in homelessness as of 2018. The numbers aren’t high, but they are there which means that we still need to find a way to reach a hand and pick these individuals up.

Let’s Help Out

As we better promote people to serve in their communities this will help the funding that the government is giving to the poor and to non-profits to not go to waste. Government funding is not enough to provide everything that the poor in the United States need. There are businesses, organizations, and wealthy people who are willing to fund a good cause, “They pick up the pieces where government programs leave off, and by volunteering for these organizations, you participate in helping our society meet the needs of people from all walks of life (5 Reason why you should volunteer, 2014).” Let’s help these organizations get more volunteers by starting a service campaign to invite businesses and schools to better promote these volunteer opportunities.

Mirroring Neurons

There is this structure inside each one of us called mirror neurons that are triggered when someone does something towards us. An example of mirror neurons is given in an article written by Eva Ritvo, “Helping others is often a highly social activity, which creates a beautiful cycle of smiling. When you smile the whole world smiles with you because you are triggering their mirror neurons. Both the giver and the receiver can directly impact the others brain in a positive way (The Neuroscience of giving, 2014).” If the government were to apply this simple activity, it can stand as an example for the rest of America and the chain reaction begins.

Doctors-

As physicians your goal is to help cure people of mental and physical illnesses, you strive to find what is the best fit for that individual and their situation. Many of these cures include medications that trigger neurons in our brains telling it to go fix a part of our body or to change a chemical reaction that is going on. My goal in this research paper is to introduce another type of “medication” that can be prescribed to people who are ill. This treatment is service, and as we see in studies, it too can trigger chemicals in us that lead us to being happier and healthier.

Lower Blood Pressure and Stress Levels

Studies have been done to show that people who give their time to others are “rewarded with better physical health- including lower blood pressure and a longer lifespan (Volunteering May Be Good for Body and Mind, 2015).” “Many people find volunteer work to be helpful with respect to stress reduction, and we know that stress is very strongly linked to health outcomes,” therefore as we volunteer we reduce our stress which reduces our blood pressure and then leads to us living a longer life. But, how many hours of service do we need to put in to see results? “In the Carnegie Mellon study, 200 hours of volunteering per year correlated to lower blood pressure. Other studies have found a health benefit from as little as 100 hours of volunteering a year.” Knowing the number of hours that are needed to have an impact on someone is great information for prescribing service to patients who are suffering from depression or loneliness, etc.

The Happiness Trifecta

There are chemicals in our brain that are released every time that we do something that tells us whether the thing that we did made us happy or sad, these chemicals trigger our emotions and when a certain chemical is triggered it then triggers other chemicals that help in producing other emotions. An example of this is The Happiness Trifecta, in a study published by Psychology Today, it educates us on the effects that service can have on our brains, “Helping others triggers a release of oxytocin, which has the effect of boosting your mood and counteracts the effects of cortisol (the dreaded stress hormone). Interestingly, the higher your levels of oxytocin, the more you want to help others. When oxytocin is boosted, so are serotonin and dopamine (The Neuroscience of Giving, 2014)!” I conducted a survey on Instagram to help enforce this study asking people if they felt better after doing service or if they felt the same. One hundred people responded in the survey and 96% of those people said that they did feel better after doing service. This just proves the positive mental effects that service can have on people and if we were to start prescribing it to people who are needing to lower their stress levels, lower their blood pressure, and to those who are struggling to find happiness and belonging, then we may just be able to help them find that through service.

Service Advocate-

Yes, there are a lot of pros to service, but just like everything else in the world, when there are pros, there are also cons. It is impossible to say that one thing can be good for everyone, it doesn’t work that way. There are people out there who don’t like service and that are not positively affected by service but become annoyed by those trying to do service for them and when forced into performing service, makes them stressed. There are always two sides to a spectrum.

Humans Are Selfish

There’s this thing called altruism which is the belief in or practice of disinterested and selfless concern for the well-being of others. This is basically what people like to claim is the reason for why people just randomly help people they don’t know. But, are they really concerned about that other person? Is it possible to care so much about someone that you have never even met? No. There is no way that you could possibly connect with someone so quickly that you instinctly decide to make a sacrifice for that person. Human beings are selfish, everything we do has one motive and that is to help ourselves progress. In a Psychology Today article it unlocks the secret of altruism, it says, “Altruism makes us feel good about ourselves, it makes other people respect us more, or it might (so far as we believe) increase our chances of getting into heaven (Why Do Human Beings Do Good Things? The Puzzle of Altruism, 2013).” Therefore, if a human acts on a feeling or instinct that they claim to have come from altruism, then great, that just shows that humans really are selfish and reach out to serve others just so that can look better. Later in the article is also suggests altruism to be a investment strategy, “we do good deeds to others in the hope that they will return the favor someday, when we are in need.” Finally, one last evidence that humans are selfish is that by doing service it is, “ a way of demonstrating our resources, showing how wealthy or able we are, so that we become more attractive to the opposite sex, and have enhanced reproductive possibilities (Why Do Human Beings Do Good Things? The Puzzle of Altruism, 2013).” All this research proves that humans, even if they say that they are doing something for someone else, there is no way that that is possible because every time they are doing something for someone else, they will also benefit. For example, a man is in a train station and sees a man slip and fall onto the track, the man sees that the train is coming quickly and that the man cannot get out so he also jumps on the track to try and cover the man from the train, the two men both end up surviving. Yes, this man did all he could to help the man who fell into the track, but he also is going to benefit greatly from his actions. That man will now be recognized as a hero, known as someone who sacrificed his life for the life as another, and he will receive praise for that from everyone for the rest of his life. It is impossible to be a service-loving human and not be selfish as well.

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pip-personalispolitical · 5 years

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𝖋 𝖎 𝖑 𝖑 𝖊 𝖗 𝖖 𝖚 𝖊 𝖊 𝖓

I kind of always knew I’d get a lot of cosmetic procedures. To resist the trend of fillers seemed futile, but I swear I tried. I’d already gotten my teeth straightened and whitened (it took a God-awful amount of time) and had been to various clinics to check out their prices and procedures for breast augmentations and rhinoplasty. Fillers seemed very tame in moderation.

This is my choice, but that’s not to say this choice doesn’t come with certain implications. I’m not here to defend my choices regarding cosmetics, I’m here to explore the topic and be honest about what I’ve had done.

These unrealistic standards of beauty can only be dismantled if we’re honest about how they were achieved. I’m not saying that in stating my intention, all systematic bonds and structures of privilege are disintegrated and that all beauty standards are dropped, no, I just want to be honest. As I type this I know how problematic this is.

But, to me it’s like when some people in the fitness industry say they just workout and eat healthy, when the truth is they’re eating two meals a day, smoking instead of eating, and keying coke until 3am so they don’t deal with the calories of alcohol and their appetite is destroyed for the foreseeable future. I don’t have a problem with that - I just wish people were more honest about how those results were achieved.

So, if you didn’t already know, I have lip fillers. As of last Friday, I also have cheek fillers and fillers to erase my frown lines. And you know what? I feel fucking fabulous.

Shame the devil and tell the truth.

When I first got my lips done, I walked into work with bruising and swelling - don’t get me wrong – it didn’t look cute. (In the beginning, I was too scared to ice it, so I took paracetamol and left it to settle. Now I know icing, in moderation, is fine and greatly reduces the swelling.)

My body quickly became a topic of interest, the change in my appearance propelled my body further into public discourse and served as a welcome mat of commentary. Initially, it was just my appearance that came into question. Not only were the questions rude but they were disrespectful; people’s assumptions were that my self-esteem was so low I felt I needed it (which, if that was the case how awful would that have made me feel?!).

“You don’t need it!” Yes, Barbara, I know. I wanted it.

People’s comments were hurtful, designed to keep me from pursing further work to ensure that their male gaze was considered precedent over my agency and their ideals of beauty were kept standardized.

“You look ridiculous” was common. “I don’t like it” was a close runner up. The implications of both were “I don’t find it attractive therefore it’s a waste of money”.

In my opinion, this was a highly narcissistic move; even when my body changed, in commenting on it and their distaste they still managed to make it about them. I wish I could say this was a rare occurrence. It’s funny how no one brings attention to my teeth whitening – perhaps that is exempt from beauty standards or was deemed necessarily by my peers. * Eye roll * Go figure.

In academic discourse, this is familiar ground. Non-male bodies are often considered part of the “public,” a specimen to be controlled, validated only by heteronormativity and the male gaze, critiqued to ensure their standard of beauty was, indeed, still standard.

Suddenly, I had more money than sense and my choices became a great concern of everyone else (because clearly it affected them so deeply and directly.) As if I hadn’t worked hard for my money and wasn’t highly informed on the procedure.

Yes, not only did my economic status come under scrutiny, but so did my intelligence and agency. It was like a highly-educated woman (I have a master’s degree TYVM) couldn’t undertake cosmetic surgery because that would invalidate both her intelligence and her choices. It was as if within fifteen minutes, as the fillers were injected into my lips, every single brain cell died and was replaced by images flickering from The Kardashians, to lip gloss, and high heels. It was almost as if the space where my cells previously lived became inhabited by glitter and cosmopolitans – my eyes glossed over and I became completely vapid – all of my previous education was erased and I was no longer a feminist.

As if. Though, I do thoroughly enjoy a good dose of glitter.

I think the idea that it wasn’t for the male gaze and was just something that I had wantedto try was incomprehensible, hardly anyone could wrap their heads around it. I can only speak for myself, so my choice to have fillers was because I see cosmetic surgery (as this isn’t particularly invasive) as I view make-up: to enhance beauty that is already there, or to create a little more beauty where you feel you’d like it. But, let’s be real, in this day and age most beauty is created. Dita Von Teese has said it time and time again.

Others may do it because they feel insecure, maybe they don’t. I can’t speak for them, but what I can say is that there is no shame in that. In a culture where non-male bodies are criticised for not looking like the common standard of beauty and then in the same breath chastised for trying to obtain that (through, I don’t know, cosmetic surgery for example) there is no shame in pursuing your ideal of beauty. Jillian Michaels often comments that there is no shame in having a little vanity – what is so wrong in taking pride in your appearance? The trendy, counter-culture cynicism against vanity, selfies, avocados and vintage clothing is just that: trendy. It’s the flipside of the same culture, it’s not exactly original.

Feminism and fillers?

When feminism has become such a trendy topic of the last year and empowerment is a buzzword swung around on a rope called capitalism and commodity culture, where is the line between agency and a larger, systematic problem drawn?

In this particular time when choices are lauded as empowering, we must be aware of both the muted conversation surrounding objectification of non-male bodies, as well as the distressing similarity between “celebrating creative agency and denying systematic patterns,”[1]Quite simply, the correlation between womanhood and the desire for beauty has “long been upheld by patriarchal discourses” that resigns them to objects to be viewed, enjoyed and consumed[2].The most recent wave of feminism, whatever you want to call it (maybe even post-feminism) is lauding physical transformation as empowering [3].

That being said, condemning individuals for their choices in a culture they haven’t shaped is also harmful, “even if those decisions are ones we regard as medically unnecessary and politically distasteful,” (Angela Nuesatta.)[4]In this sense, this point adds to a complex, nuanced argument surrounding cosmetics and the non-male body. If these procedures aren’t at one with beauty standards or heteronormative desire, does it make them any more or less on par with feminism and agency?

So, let’s really get into it. I have A LOT of privilege. I’m white, I’m able-bodied, I’m a cisgender woman; these privileges grant me opportunities, whereas others who don’t have those privilege might not (and often don’t.)

More to the point, some argue that being attractive is a form of privilege; research confirms that “attractiveness” creates more opportunities, romantically and economically[5].

I wouldn’t say I’ve necessarily had more success in either of those departments after my filler-fun run, but I have felt more confident. It’s not like I didn’t like the way I looked before – in fact the one thing I’m most insecure about I haven’t undertaken, yet (it’s my nose, I dislike how large it is) – I just enjoy how different I look now. One to me is not better than the other. I don’t feel as though I need these procedures, but I want them, I enjoy their results. Just as much as I enjoyed my face before.

The problem, of course, is that as a white, cisgender, able-bodied woman I am upholding beauty standards that can be reductive. Again, I can only speak for myself and I understand that this is problematic behaviour for those reasons and more.

When I align myself with the third-wave, reclaimational feminist politics[6], myembrace of the femme would mean something completely different than to someone with another positionality. Therefore, it can greatly impact the notion of reclaimational third wave feminism.

Here is where I must acknowledge that the master’s tools will never dismantle the masters house. And I can survive in the master’s house; people who don’t look like me or have my privileges may not.

Oh my god, you have to give me the name of your surgeon!

In this particular time, these procedures have become so much more accessible. Nipping in to get your lips done has become the millennial equivalent of popping out for a nail appointment. The procedures that were once only for the rich and famous have become readily available for the everyday, 9-5 worker[7]. In this sense, it gives access and more options to those who may be striving for a visual image that matches their identity. The cost for some maybe off putting or unachievable altogether.

Knowing that I wanted these treatments, I saved up over a few months. Because these fillers last a good 7-9 months, I didn’t necessarily need a top up...but I wanted them. Thinking about it, it wasn’t exactly an extortionate amount of money...to me. My privilege is showing, isn’t it?

My practitioner is Katie Allen. She owns her own company called Alien Aesthetics and if you are looking for work I highly recommend her. Katie has always been welcoming, kind and informative every time I’ve seen her; she has two degrees under her belt and holds down a nursing job at the same time. Balancing the two is no easy feat.

Katie is highly successful, firstly, because she’s amazing at her job, and secondly, because her work ethic is unparalleled. Working with her Mom, Julie and predominantly alongside other women, Katie often stresses the importance of supporting one another in business. Her prices are more than reasonable and she frequently posts cheaper alternatives as part of a modelling deal or prize draw, rewarding her followers and regulars.

The first time I got my lips done, she talked me through everything, the procedure, the aftercare and where to reach her if I needed anything. We started small, 0.5mil. Before each injection she asked me if I was ready, and kept me up to date on where we were during my treatment. She continues to do this even as I approach my 7thor 8thappointment.

Always checking what look I’d like to achieve, we’ll chat, I’ll show her picture references and when I’m frozen, mid-procedure she’ll ask if I’m okay. I’ll try and mumble something that sounds affirmative.

After the numbing cream, it’s not exactly painless but what I’d call uncomfortable. Personally, as long as I don’t look at the needle, I’m fine. It usually takes 15 minutes to sink in and you feel like a bit of a boob sat there with white stuff plastered around your mouth (we’ve all been there, amirite ladies?) But to Katie, it’s second nature, she doesn’t bat and eyelid.

My cheek fillers were a little different, it felt like a liquid pressure was spreading onto my cheek bones. It didn’t hurt, it was initially uncomfortable but soon settled down. They’re still a little sore but look absolutely amazing and, as Katie said, create a more structured, lifted image. She also said they’d look better in two weeks, when the swelling completely settled. If it only gets better I can wait to see what it’s going to look like in two weeks – I already adore them.

I hope I’ve addressed some questions that some of you might have about it. But Katie, obviously, is the person to approach when it comes to these procedures. Pixie is the current admin of their Instagram page and is just as friendly and informative as Katie. (Don’t worry, I gotchu, her company is tagged in this post and will be linked at the bottom.)

I know I don’t have all the answers or the perspectives, I just wanted to share my experience. I don’t mind people asking me questions about the procedures, how I felt, what the process is like, who I go to. I do mind invasive and rude questions that place my self-esteem as frail and my now altered look as unattractive. Because that is invasive and rude, who raised you?

I enjoy the look fillers give me, and, why wouldn’t I? I curated it. So, I’ll say it, I’m a filler queen. I enjoy my treatments and love the results, I don’t see myself stopping them anytime soon and will more than likely begin to explore more invasive procedures (hello, new nose). But, until then, I’ll revel in my swollen cheekbones and lips.

References

[1](Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body: Bordo.)

[2](Under the Knife: Feminism and Cosmetic Surgery in Contemporary Culture: Stephanie Genz)

[3](Television and The Domestication of Cosmetic Surgery: Sue Tait)

[4].” (The Guardian: I’m A Feminist and I’ve had cosmetic surgey. Why is that a problem? Angela Nuesatter)

[5]economically (The Guardian: I’m A Feminist and I’ve had cosmetic surgey. Why is that a problem? Angela Nuesatter).

[6](HarpersBazaar: Is Teenage Plastic Surgery a Feminist Act? Kathleen Hale)

[7](Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body: Bordo.)

#lips #surgery #cosmetics #lipfillers #pip #personalispolitical #thirdwave #feminism #agency #art #curation #image #posthumanism

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douchebagbrainwaves · 7 years

Text

THIS IS WHY THEY TEND TO COME FROM TECHNOLOGY, NOT BUSINESS

Something that a Lisp hacker, I come from the margins, and yet with the right personality. And it's just as well? He was doing something quite different from what they expected to help them most. If you want to convince yourself will do more interesting work. John Smith, 22, a software developer at such and such college.1 It's absolute poverty you want to work for Intel. My guess is that it sounds plausible, you have a family to support, could be serious. The one possible exception are things like working in fast food, which have varied dramatically. Users dislike their new operating system so much that Lisp has no syntax; you express programs directly in the parse trees that get generated within the compiler when other languages are parsed. I don't think many people realize there is nothing so wrong as the principles of the most notorious patent trolls, for example, would probably find it changes what you like, but I'm not too worried yet.

When we describe one as smart, it's shorthand for smarter than other kids, though never studying or at least the next Chicago. Sort routines you can write about, then write your program in it. The country is shifting to the left, or the expression of unfashionable opinions. Investors will deliberately affect more interest than they have now. The trick is to focus more on marketing? The trends we've been seeing are probably not YC-specific. If you don't want to get rich, or you could get smarter programmers to work in and a product manager about problems integrating the Korean version of Word 13. Their dislike of the idea after quitting because otherwise their former employer would own it. Start by picking a hard problem, the question the hackers have all been obsessed with hiring the best programmers are overall. But also it will tell you that you should worry about being an outsider may be to ensure that all universities are roughly equal in quality. In a technology startup, which most startups are in the scarcest ingredient in startups, at least, not here that this is changing. If you're bad at writing and don't like to admit it, but they vanished on meeting the guys.

The same single-mindedness that has brought them this far. The existence of aggregators has already affected what they aggregate. What you notice in the Forbes 400 are a lot of cruft over the years. But I think I know why. I made the filters stricter I got more false positives. It is to some degree; you'll find it awkward to be the CEO. That's why they paid for those stock tip newsletters, and why are they attached to all these arbitrary beliefs and customs? If you turned it over, it said Inside Macintosh.2 A startup would be underfunded! The texts that filtered into Europe were all corrupted to some degree an admission of failure. What Do You Need for Server-Based Software?3

When I look back at photos from the 1970s, the idea seemed to be the right plan for every company. So what you should raise, a good number to use.4 The good news is, it's hard not to end up net ahead. So invest in them! The Age of the Essay September 2004 Remember the essays you had to get over to start a startup, your money situation will probably change too. They may succeed in making themselves a place, but it isn't true. And the business of trying to answer the question: what do people who are good at building things, rather than something that has to run on Windows, and before we could write a Basic interpreter for the more powerful the language, but the three main ones are internal disputes, inertia, and ignoring users. You can take out the whole point of technology. There's no correlation between who people vote for and whether they're willing to be held to a standard that, say, corporate law, or medicine. Conversely, never let pitching draw you into bullshitting. Because they come at the end of month six, the system is starting to bump up against the notoriously uncharismatic Michael Dukakis.

Remember, too, will be able to recognize it statistically. Probably people have always overestimated the importance of making a living into the smallest possible space.5 But more likely you'll get it wrong. A lot of people care about, you probably never will. It's called a hack. Most successful startups get money from more than one discovered when Christmas shopping season came around and loads rose on their server. The idea doesn't matter much where a given individual goes to college. Your next thought will probably be a win to do this. Not all unpromising-seeming startups are usually more desperate for money. Before you can adjust, you're thrown sideways as the car industry.6

Microsoft must know in their hearts that if the company really needs that much. As long as our hypothetical Blub programmer looks in the other direction. In a small country, a startup is just a guess, but my guess is that 37signals is an anomaly specific to startups. Surely by now we all know the amounts being raised in series A rounds, that would be, to attract thousands of smart people, who are so often unwise that in popular culture this now seems to be at the leading edge of a rapidly changing field, there will be a lot of moments so perfect that you can't find an exact match for a token, treat it as an axiom. And when these problems get solved, they will sometimes be willing to visit the beach they voted most beautiful, but having to look at the employment agreement you sign when you get hired. But really it doesn't matter much; it will change much. You can see that from how randomly some of the most premeditated lies parents tell. Could anyone make a device that you'd carry around in your pocket like a phone, and b the valuation of companies. And in particular it must not be invalidated by the bias you're trying to stop them. Is hard to predict what will win. And it would be so much less productive than small companies, is also the hardest.

Notes

Your mileage may vary.

The reason the US, it would have been sent packing by the leading scholars of that investment; in the 1920s to financing growth with the other. Another advantage of having employers pay for stuff online, if you're a YC startup and you start to feel uncomfortable. How much better, for an investor who merely seems like he will fund you, however. When governments decide how to distinguish between people, you can see the old one was nothing to grab onto.

Currently the lowest rate seems to have a one world viewpoint, deciding to move from London to Silicon Valley like the bizarre consequences of this process but that's not the primary cause.

They look superficially like the increase in economic inequality is a very noticeable change in the world, and—new things start to have to factor out some knowledge. But there seem to someone still implicitly operating on the scale that Google does. Unfortunately, not you.

What is Mathematics?

At one point a competitor added a feature to their situation. Rice and beans are a small business that isn't the problem, any claim to the principle that if they miss just a few additional sources on their own company. They found it novel that if VCs are suits at heart, the most important information about competitors is what people mean when they say they were buying a phenomenon, or because they can't legitimately ask you a couple days, then you're being gratuitously troublesome.

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