which is actually quite often

I once saw someone online arguing against the popular opinion that John Lennon may have been an INFP. Their main point: INFPs are nice, some of the nicest people around, actually, whereas John Lennon was not nice at all, but was in fact well known for his outspoken rudeness and venomous sarcasm.

Lennon aside, here’s the axe I’ve come to grind: INFPs are not always nice. They are characterized above all by introverted feeling (Fi), which can quite often manifest itself as stubborn, blunt, or harsh, actually. Yeah, most INFPs are fairly low-key and chill; I’ll give you that. But rub us the wrong way, violate our cherished values, and we can lash back with acidic sting. Most people I know think of me as pleasant and kind, but those who stick around longer will see clearly that I’m a fighter too. It’s not a contradiction. Kindness matters to me, and so do other things, and I’ll fight for what matters.

—  Submitted by @angelwithashatteredheart
soulmate!5sos au: ashton.


summary: soulmate!au where you and your soulmate share scars and physical pain.

***TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of self-harm/scars. (i’ve heard of ashton self-harming and that he has scars, but i do not know that as a fact. i have self-harmed before and was deeply involved with it for a couple years. it is not romantic in any way, shape, or form. it is painful and you never wish to start it).***

pairing: ashtonxreader

word count: 1332 words.


you were always such a careful child when growing up. you were scared of getting a scrape or a bruise, since you didn’t really want your soulmate for hating you for getting hurt so often. which was actually quite funny with how accident-prone they were. you always had a new scar or scrape somewhere on your body. it seemed as though they didn’t care how many times they had gotten hurt or how many times they hurt you in the process.

when you were a kid, the scars were just from basic stuff – scraped knees from maybe falling off a bike or scraped elbows from tripping on the sidewalk. and you were okay with it. your parents were a little worried about what your soulmate was putting you through, but you figured that you were so careful of not getting hurt that maybe your soulmate thought they didn’t have one. that was your theory and your mother seemed to share it to an extent.

but coming up to your teen years, you would get random black eyes or feelings of being punched in the gut our bruises on your back from either being pushed into lockers or onto the ground. you were worried, very worried, for your soulmate, but you had no way of being able to contact them in any way. and then one day, little red lines had began to appear on your wrist. horrified, you called your parents to tell them you were coming home from school right away.

it burned, the feeling of your skin being sliced open. you watched as they appeared one after the other, but you couldn’t do anything to stop them. you didn’t want to pinch them, fearing that they were in enough pain already, but you also didn’t want to go through with the pain of this. you knew exactly what it was, but you didn’t want to face the realization.

you took a deep breath and pinched your thigh, hoping to shock your soulmate. the cutting had ceased for a moment before continuing. it must have been a really, really bad day. you did it again, only longer, pleading that you had gotten through to them. and you must have because it had stopped for the night.

these days would continue for years, and you always covered your wrist up with bracelets or with a jacket or long sleeves. you told your parents about it, so that they wouldn’t worry, but you didn’t want anyone else to know but you. you felt it would be way too personal. yeah, it sucked when you couldn’t go swimming with your friends, or go out in the heat for too long without burning up, but your soulmate was worth it. at least in your eyes.

when you were seventeen, the self-harm had stopped. instead, calluses and sore arms had taken their place. you had figured that your soulmate had worked out or played a sport, but a friend had told you that your soulmate had to have been a drummer. after all, she was one herself, so she would have had to known that. so your soulmate was a drummer. you enjoyed the thought, and since the discovery, you paid more attention to the drum beats in every song you listened to and watched the drummers when seeing your high school’s band perform at games or pep rallies.

for your nineteenth birthday, your friend had scored tickets to see an up and coming band named five seconds of summer perform at the arena a couple towns over. you were stoked to see them, since you had heard their youtube covers a couple times here and there, and you enjoyed their sound. plus, you fancied the drummer, but that could have been because your soulmate was supposedly a drummer.

on the day of the concert, your friend surprised you with meet and greet passes that had come with the tickets and had been delivered a week before the performance. she said it was an early birthday gift and that you owed her big time for her birthday. which you made a mental note to get some ed sheeran tickets for her in order to repay here. the meet and greet was scheduled two hours before the show (idk if that’s how it works, never been to a m&g or a concert whoops), so your friend and you left three hours early.

upon arriving, you had both shown your passes to security, and they escorted you to where two girls and one boy had already been standing. they directed you to stay right there where another guard was to bring you to a separate room for the meet and greet. the other fans had introduced themselves, and you five talked about music and which high school music movie was the best while you waited. like the security guard said, another guard had told you to follow him and he led you to the promise land to the room where the meet and greet was to take place. he told you the boys were going to be only a couple minutes, and then proceeded to stand in one of the corners of the room.

when the group had began to hear voices, they all shut up and watched as the 5sos boys walked through the door. you stood back behind the group, watching as the group had all each claimed a boy except for you because you didn’t really want to be rude. you sighed and looked down at your feet, then to your wrist. you wondered how your soulmate was doing. how they were feeling and if they ever felt the urge still. you wanted to wrap them up in bubblewrap and hug them forever so that they never felt like harming themselves again, but you still hadn’t met them.

you jumped when someone had suddenly cleared their throat from in front of you. you looked up, a little surprised to see ashton irwin looking down at you with a wide smile. he opened his arms, and you smiled a back, hugging him.

“do you still do it?” he asked quietly.

you stepped back, “oh, n–no. i–i–i, my soulmate–they… they used to, but–no–i don’t,” you trailed off, a little embarrassed with how much you stammered.

his grin faltered a little bit, “oh, i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, “it’s okay! th–they don’t do it anymore! but my friend thinks that they’re a drummer, or something, but i don’t know. i’m not a drummer or anything.”

his brows furrowed, “oh? why do you think that?”

i shrugged, “a couple years ago when the self-harm stopped, i started developing calluses and my arms got really sore, so i figured they went into drumming.”

“do you,” ashton started, “do you by chance, have a scar, shaped like a star – kind of – on your right hip?”

you looked at him in confusion, “yeah, but… how do you know that?” you watched as ashton proceeded to lift his shirt up a little bit, just enough to see an identical scar to the one of your right him. it was one of the few accidents you caused by running and tripping onto a small dollhouse when you were a kid.

you lifted up the corner of your shirt a little bit to reveal the matching scar, and you looked up. “are we–could we be…?”

“soulmates?” he finished. “i think so. i’m ashton,” he grinned.

“(y/n),” you replied.

“uh, about–about the scars, i didn’t–i didn’t mean to hurt you intentionally.” he said, guilt lacing his tone. “i didn’t know i even had a soulmate. you never got hurt or anything.”

“it’s okay, ashton. i forgive you. i was always so cautious, i never wanted you to hate me for getting hurt,” you admitted sheepishly. “but i’m just glad that you stopped and focused on something different. i’m happy that you’re okay.”

“and i’m happy that you exist,” he said.





1x01: Henry barely even acknowledges his existence, let alone talks to Lucas. He is also quite mean to him and belittles him and his efforts. He ignores his reports, which are actually quite good, and makes him look stupid more often than not. He doesn’t appreciate him as an assistant and really just takes him for granted. Basically he’s an utter piece of shit to this cinnamon roll (Too good for this world, too pure).

1x22: Henry says he’s proud of Lucas, and he means it. He tells him he’s smart when Lucas tries to put himself down and say he isn’t. He acknowledges that Lucas likes to help out and wants be closer to Henry, and over time he includes him more and lets them become friends. He’s still a bit mean to him every now and then. But he’s much more aware of how great his assistant really is and definitely appreciates him more.