this is an actual person

ENFP x INTJ FRIENDSHIP IN A NUTSHELL

ENFP: HEY! HEY!!!! INTJ!!! Wanna hear a joke?

INTJ: No…

ENFP: Okay so, what do you call a pony with a sore throat?

INTJ:

ENFP: *almost cracking up*

INTJ:

ENFP: A LITTLE HOARSE! *starts crying of laughter*

INTJ:

INTJ: That was the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.

INTJ: Tell me more.

people keep putting in the tags of my alignment gifset that tahani and janet should be switched (tahani is labeled neutral good and janet is labeled lawful neutral) and i just. why. janet isnt a robot, per se, but she’s definitely like. a database of information. she doesn’t have morals or values. all she does is follow michael’s orders. sure, she’s learning to be more ~human bc of team cockroach’s influences and the never-ending reboots, but cmon. she’s lawful neutral bc she follows the rules and does basically whatever michael says. 

tahani is, despite being in the bad place, neutral good aligned. yeah, she did charitable things because she wanted recognition. and yeah, she was jealous of her sister. but she still did good things and really all she wanted was love and appreciation from people, especially from her parents. she’s neutral bc she doesnt go out of her way to be good, but she is. 

some of yall even think eleanor shouldve been labelled chaotic good and yeah, i could ~kinda see that but. if you compare tahani and eleanor, tahani is much more “good” aligned than eleanor is because she never did anything maliciously. she didn’t purposefully hurt anyone and she didn’t take pleasure from others people’s pain. eleanor did. i love the girl but she was selfish and cruel and sometimes enjoyed other peoples pain so im just wondering why yall think shes more deserving of the “good” alignment than tahani is

Conversation between me and my gastro doctor/surgeon from a few months ago (because I saw a post recently about aces being doubted by their doctors and it made me think of this)

My doctor:  Stomach pain, nausea….Could you be pregnant?

Me:  Nope. 

My doctor:  Are you sure?

Me:  Yep, absolutely sure.

My doctor:  Are you sure that you’re sure? Because, I’ve had women insist that they were sure, drive over to the Walgreens, get a pregnancy test, and SURPRISE!

Me: ……Pretty sure that getting pregnant requires having sex.  I’m an asexual virgin, so….. yeah, pretty sure.

My doctor:  Ah well, that’ll change when you meet the right guy.

Me:  

Originally posted by imabeast78

pricked; chapter I

◖pairing ─ reader x taemin

◖rating ─ m [angst, angst & angst]

◖word count ─ 1.598

◖a/n ─ this is a gang!au that’s going to have more parts. feedback is appreciated!

  • He let you. He was the one. ❞

You refused to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t get through to you —not this time.

The water was getting cold, but you grew numb to it. To all of it.

At first you considered that a good thing; guy you met at the bar, black hair falling over his eyes, countless piercings on both his ears, eyes that appeared indifferent when you’ve never in your life seen a gaze so piercing— you knew how this kind of thing worked.

He was handsome. He was staring at you. He had a gun.

His friend was playing with a pocket knife, long, slender fingers carefully twisting the blade, looking at the weapon like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

You knew something was wrong then. His friend looked harmless. But not him.

He had a velvety voice, a voice that he used to play tricks on people— on you. And he had words, pretty words, and a smile made only for angels, pearly white teeth and full, kissable lips. Yes, he had all of that and you fell for all of it enough to forget about the gun.

So the guy you met at the bar became Taemin, and his friend introduced himself as Onew, glancing at you, brown hair styled, strands falling over his forehead, and soon enough you went home with both of them, trying to ignore the black .45 tucked into the back of his black jeans.

Home was a shithole, with fluorescent lights, and the least amount of furniture possible. Home was empty bottles of whiskey and vodka and soju, a mattress with white covers on a corner of the only room the house had, a couch full of clothes across from an old TV, and a smashed kitchen.

“Go home, you punk,” Taemin chuckled at Onew as he kicked him out of the living room, with Onew smirking lightly, his black coat dancing around him.

“Careful with this one, Lee,” he warned, and with a wink he was gone.

Taemin’s face sobered after that comment, but he said nothing. A man of few words. He unbuttoned his silk shirt, exposing pale skin and fragile collarbones.

“You should undress,” he said after taking a look at you. His voice soft, words falling off his tongue like a lullaby. “I have to do something.”

He fucked you that night, and from that point on he started showing up out of nowhere, scaring your friends away when you’d gone out for drinks with his cold gaze, waiting for you on his motorcycle after classes, knowing where you live and what time you went to bed.


He fucked with your mind a lot. Acting like he was your boyfriend, but always taking you to that place of his, undressing you and taking you from behind like you were a stranger.

You two weren’t strangers. It didn’t feel like that from the beginning. But at the same time, you didn’t know him at all. You knew he was trouble, you’d seen the evidence, you knew you should run or maybe put a restraining order on him for stalking you like that, only you knew. You felt a pull towards him—his grip was too tight.

And it was too frustrating during the nights he’d talk, bottle of liquor on his hand, faded blonde hair a mess.

“Leave,” he’d said when you refused to have sex with him. “Walk out on this.”

“It’s been three months, Taemin.”

“So?” When he looked up at you, dark circles surrounding his brown eyes, you knew he was daring you. “If you have something to say to me, say it.”

You didn’t. You wouldn’t pretend; you were trapped. Your gaze fell on the gun on his nightstand. He didn’t have to look to see what you were staring at.

“You saw that on the first night, too,” he grinned like a cat at the wall. “Now it scares you?”

The numbness? That mindset about it being a good thing? It wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Maybe it was for him, maybe that’s all he knew, but you? This was just your fault.

You let it go too far and now there’s no back tracking. Not with a guy like him.

When you started undressing, he laughed, his eyes disappearing. You hated him then.

“Guess not,” he mumbled, watching your every move. “I’ve killed people,” he stated, trying to catch your eyes. “I’ve been carrying a gun with me since I was nineteen years old,” he continued. “I’ve dealt drugs, and I’ve a shit ton of money.” He paused, like he was waiting for something. Then he huffed out a laugh.

“But you don’t care about that, do you? You probably know I’ve money. You know I can afford better than this… what’d you call it? Awful place. You never say shit,” his whole face was smiling. You took off your skirt and knelt down on the mattress. 

“You continue going at your boring little job, getting the same shitty salary you’ve been receiving since high school, and you do grocery shopping and regular meet ups for beef with your innocent little friends, and your life is just so goddamn normal and boring until my shift of being scum is over and I whisk you away into the dangerous night. Is that it? Have I got this right?”

He was smirking at the tears that had gathered in your eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, soju long forgotten. There was bitterness in his tone. Jealousy.

“What do you want from me?” you ask in a small voice, your lip trembling.

“What do you want from me would be the better question.”

You never answered. He attacked your mouth and before you knew anything else, he had you under him, fingers wrapped around your throat, mouth moving downwards.


You had no idea how much he was keeping from you, at what lengths he’d gone to keep everything about him far away from you and your life, always making sure you saw him and nothing else, nothing beyond the p.m.

Until then. Until you started questioning that numbness you felt around him at times.

It was six months, then seven, eight—a year had gone by. You had almost moved in with him. That house had remained empty. There would be nights where people would come over and wake you up, music and smoke slipping under the door. You’d hear girls giggling and deep voices cursing.

The gang. All five members, just outside that door. So close you could just open it and finally meet that horrible doom-like feeling that’s been hanging over Taemin’s head for God knows how long.

That was when you heard it. His voice—that seductive drawl of his words, the trap made of velvet, the one he used when he wanted something. You focused on it. And then everything was clear.

Someone—Key—said, “Careful,” and you didn’t need another word. 

“Don’t you have a girl or some shit?” said someone else.

You sank deeper into the water. The water was burning your skin. You welcomed the pain.

“She couldn’t keep up,” you heard Taemin say.

“I can,” a girl —the girl— chirped.

“Yeah, baby?” Your boyfriend had words; pretty words.

He also had a facade to keep up. But you couldn’t know that.

“Dude, you’re fucking up…”

“Shut the fuck up, Minho. Or get the fuck out.”

“Your girl’s gonna walk the fuck out if you don’t cut it off. Have fun, but be careful.”

Taemin must’ve figured out you were home then, quiet as you always were, ‘cause he barked for everyone to get out. You sank completely into the bathtub, holding your breath, wondering why, why, why—

He’d got a deal. A bigger gang wanted him with them. More money, six feet deeper than he already was. He was a good shot—that’s what that paper said. Good collection of guns, flawless aim. Connections. A full list of who he’d killed and why.

You’d searched for more. You found it. A mission for a mafia in Busan. Someone called Ravi had written exact orders and a time and place for a meet up. Six figures. 

You released your breath. You couldn’t hear anything except your own heartbeat.

Everything was documented, it was all there. You could’ve smelled the blood if you tried to.

You knew when he opened the bathroom door. He called your name—you kept your eyes closed.

Hands pulled you up and you gasped for air, coughing.

“What the fuck? What the fuck, (Y/N)?” he screamed at your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

He’d got in the bathtub. Water was everywhere. He kissed you till you felt your lips bruising.

You closed your eyes again.

“Are you okay?” You could feel his gaze searching your body up and down.

“Twenty people dead. A successful shoot-out. Ten kilograms of cocaine,” you rambled, shaking his hands off of you.

“What?”

You met his intense eyes, at last. “I think I’m finally okay with living my boring life, Taemin.”

He let you get out of the bathtub, he let you walk naked in the cold apartment, and he still hadn’t stopped you when you gathered whatever you could carry in your bag, dressed in clothes not suitable for the weather outside, hair wet and cheeks stained with silent tears, walking out of that awful place. Walked out on him.

He let you. He was the one. 

So he had no right to do what he did next time you saw him, almost three weeks later.

Me playing LoL today included comments from my side such as:

Okay, which dork just- …. Wait. That was me. I’m the dork.”

“That’s a big sword you have there, mister, are you compensating?”

“Getting my ass kicked, now in HD.”

“Boys and girls, what exactly are we doing? Boys and girls… this is Halloween- okay, bad timing.”

“I’m trying to be nice and you DROP a TEDDYBEAR on me, rude.”

Why am I creative only when I should be concentrating instead, I wonder.

3

I’m like… 4 ish months on Testosterone. Hair is growing darker on my top lip, I’ve got a little acne under my chin.

Body shape is less soft, mood less emotional but a little more irritable.

Dysphoria has been a big factor lately. People I want to see me as male don’t, because I haven’t come out yet, and I’m very nervous about that. I’ve noticed my voice dropping very low, and I can’t sing like I used to, which makes me really sad.

But I can always fix that. It’s just annoying and difficult because it’s already something I’m used to being able to do. It was a lot of years of hard work to get my voice to do cool shit.

But I guess this means I have to come out soon, since the changes are becoming much more apparent. I really hope it goes well. I can feel myself becoming more ready the happier I am with myself.
I never dreamed I’d even be alive for this part.
I’m falling back in love with myself, and falling back in love with being alive.

i feel like it would be fun to get a bunch of my jedi order squad™ friends and make like. a jedi mythbusters blog. where we just look at all the bad fanon stuff and mercilessly debunk it using Cold Hard Canon Facts. we could call ourselves the council and each pick a different councillor for our mod nicknames, it’d be great