A RWBY Christmas Carol: Stave V

A RWBY Christmas Carol is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC.

 

 

Ozpin fell backward through the portal and landed on something soft. He was surprised at first, but as he looked around, he realized where he was. “They are not torn down,” he cried, folding one of his bed curtains in his arms. “They are not torn down, rings and all. They are here.” For indeed, the bed was his own and the room was his own.

“And I’m here,” he said. But the best and happiest of all thoughts was that the time before him to make amends was his own. “The shadows of the things that would have been may be dispelled. They will be! I know they will.”

“I will live in the past, the present, and the future,” Ozpin said as he scrambled out of bed. “The spirits of all three shall strive within me. Oh, Jacob Ironwood. Heaven and Christmas be praised for this. I say it on my knees, old Ironwood, on my knees!”

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions that his broken voice would scarcely answer his call.

Ozpin stood and staggered about his room. “I don't know what to do,” he said, laughing and crying in the same breath. “I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to everybody, and a Happy New Year to all of Remnant!”

He frisked into the sitting room, and went all around it, observing the objects and remembering the events from the night before. “There's the pot that the hot chocolate was in. And there's the door by which the ghost of Jacob Ironwood entered. There's the corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present sat. And there's the window where I saw the wandering spirits. It's all right, it's all true, it all happened.” Ozpin laughed, and for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh.

“I don't know what day of the month it is. I don't know how long I've been among the spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby.”

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. There was no fog or mist. It was simply a clear, bright, and cold day. The sunlight was golden, the sky heavenly, the fresh air sweet, and from the nearby church, he heard the glorious ringing of bells.

Ozpin looked down into the street. “Hallo!” he cried at a girl building a snowman. “Hallo!”

The girl looked up. Ozpin thought she was rather cute with her short, orange curly hair, her pink bow, and freckled face, but her lime green eyes didn’t seem wholly organic.

“Hallo, my fine girl!” cried Ozpin.

“Sal-u-tations!” returned the girl.

“What's today?”

“Huh?” returned the girl with all her wonder.

“What's today, my fine lady?”

“Today? Why, it’s Christmas Day, of course!”

“It's Christmas Day,” said Ozpin. “I haven't missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course, they can. Of course, they can.”

“I don’t know who the spirits are,” said the girl, “but of course they can,” she said with a nod.

“Tell me, girl: do you know poulterer's in the next street but one?”

“I should hope I did.”

“A remarkable lass. An intelligent lass. Do you know whether they've sold the prize turkey? Not the little one, but the big one.”

“What? The one as big as me?”

“What a delightful girl,” said Ozpin. “Such a pleasure to talk to. Yes, my dear.”

“It’s still there.”

“Is it? Go and buy it.”

The girl recoiled. “Walk-er!” she said, waving her hand dismissively at him.

“No, no,” said Ozpin. “I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell them to bring it here. Come back with the poulterer, and I'll give you ten lien. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I'll give you fifty!”

The girl’s eyes lit up and a strange metallic object shot out from her back before extending and then multiplying into several copies. Tiny holes opened at the end of each one and green energy shot from them, propelling the girl off like a shot.

“I'll send it to Taiyang Cratchit's,” said Ozpin, rubbing his hands. “He shan't know who sent it. It's twice the size of Tiny Ruby.”

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write it he did, and went downstairs to wait for the poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker caught his eye.

“I shall love it as long as I live,” said Ozpin, patting it with his hand. “I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face. It's a wonderful knocker. Ah! Here's the turkey.”

It was quite a turkey. It never could have stood upon its legs. They would have snapped off as soon as it tried.

“Now, I want you to take this turkey to Patch.”

“Patch!?” said the poulterer’s man.

Ozpin realized his mistake. “Why, it'd be impossible for you to carry that to Patch. You must take an airship,” he said, slapping more lien into the man’s hand. “And this is for you, my fine lady,” he said, chuckling, as he paid the girl double what he originally promised her.

Ozpin went back inside and dressed himself in his best, which was an old emerald suit he hadn’t had the pleasure of wearing for a while. He then went down to the streets which were now well crowded with people like he had seen when he went out with the Ghost of Christmas Present. He regarded every person with a delighted smile. Those who knew him regarded him with a wonder so strange, they couldn’t believe to see the change in him. He was so pleasant and blithe that when he happened upon the monkey-tailed and cat-eared Faunus carolers from the night before, he wished them a stout Merry Christmas.

“It’s that old, crusty miser from yesterday!” said the monkey-tailed one.

“Good morning, my boy!” replied Ozpin.

“He’s lost his mind…”

The cat-eared girl was stunned into silence.

“Merry Christmas to you both!” he said, showering them with lien.

“Whoa!” said the boy.

“Th-thank you, sir!” said the girl.

“Think nothing of it! Just making up for my crass mistake.”

“Merry Christmas,” said the girl with a smile.

“Yeah, thanks,” said the boy, counting the lien.

Ozpin nodded and continued on his way but he didn’t go far before running into two others from the day before.

“Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Belladonna. How are you this morning? I hope you succeeded in your mission yesterday.”

“Mr. Ozpin?” said Ghira, bewildered.

“Yes, that is my name, but I fear it may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness to accept…” Ozpin leaned forward and whispered to Ghira and Kali.

“Mr. Ozpin?!” said Kali.

“Gods bless me,” cried Ghira, as if his breath were taken away.

“Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?”

“If you please,” said Ozpin. “And not a lien less. A great many back payments are included in it, I assure you.”

“My dear sir,” said Ghira. “I don't know what to say to such munificence.”

“Don't say anything please,” replied Ozpin. “Just come and see me tomorrow, and we’ll make the arrangements.”

“We will,” cried Kali.

“Thank you. I am much obliged to you. Thank you fifty times. Bless you both!”

Ozpin continued on his merry way through the streets. He watched the people hurrying to and fro, he patted children on the head, questioned beggars, looked down into the kitchens of houses, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk, or anything else for that matter, could give him so much happiness. And then finally, in the afternoon he turned his steps toward his nephew's house.

He passed the door a dozen times before he had the courage to go up and knock.

“Is your master at home, my dear?” said Ozpin to the servant girl.

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is he, my love?”

“He's in the dining room, sir, along with mistress. I'll announce you.”

“Thank you, no. That’s not necessary. He knows me,” said Ozpin with his hand already on the dining room knob. He turned it gently, and sidled his face in. Qrow, Winter, and their guests were looking at the table which was spread out in great array for the young housekeepers had gone to great lengths to make sure everything was perfect.

“Qrow,” said Ozpin.

“Bless my soul,” cried Qrow. “Uncle Ozpin?”

“Yes, it is I. I have come to dinner. Will you allow me to dine with you, Qrow?”

Let him in? It is a mercy Qrow didn't shake his arm off. Ozpin was quite at home in five minutes. Nothing could have been heartier. It was a wonderful party, with wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, and wonderful, wonderful happiness.

But Ozpin was early at the office the next morning. He wanted to be there first and catch Taiyang coming in late. That was something he had set his heart upon.

The clock struck nine and there was no Taiyang. A quarter past and there was still no Taiyang. He was a full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time when he did arrive. His hat was off before he entered. He was on his stool in a jiffy, and driving away with his pen as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock.

“Taiyang Cratchit!” growled Ozpin in his accustomed voice as near as he could feign it. “What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?”

“I am very sorry, sir,” said Tai. “I am behind my time.”

“Indeed, you are. Step this way, sir, if you please.”

“It's only once a year, sir,” pleaded Tai, appearing in his office. “It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir.”

“Indeed. But, I'll tell you what, my friend,” growled Ozpin. “I am not going to stand for this sort of thing any longer. And therefore,” he continued, standing and looking as menacing as he could. Tai flinched.  “I am going to raise your salary!”

Tai blinked disbelievingly. “Sir?”

Ozpin laughed. “A Merry Christmas, Tai!” he said with an earnestness that could not be mistaken as he clapped Tai on the back. “A merrier Christmas, Tai, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year. Yes, sir. I'll start by doubling your salary—”

“Double?!”

“And endeavor to assist your struggling family in any way I can! We’ll get Tiny Ruby to the right doctors and we’ll even fix up Yang’s bike and get her a better position closer to home!”

“How do you know about Tiny Ruby’s condition? And Yang’s bike?! How do you know their names?!”

 “And we will discuss all your affairs this very afternoon over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Tai.”

“That’s extraordinary, sir. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Never mind that! Make up the fires, man, and buy another coal scuttle before you dot another i, Tai!”

Ozpin was better than his word. He did it all and infinitely more. And Tiny Ruby, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city knew.

Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened for the sake of good at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset.

He had no further intercourse with spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle ever afterwards. And it was always said that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.

May that be truly said of all of us. And so, as Tiny Ruby observed, gods bless us, every one.

 



***

 



Keep writing, my friends.

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What INTJs Think During and After Making Out

Hey, everyone.

So, as I promised, here's my blog entry on what INTJs think during and after making out. Although, I was thinking about it just now and two thoughts occurred to me:
1. Most of these thoughts come from the very first time I made out, and so being a rookie, it may be that these are the same sort of thoughts that all rookies have, especially since I'm not sure I thought any of these the second time I made out,
2. These thoughts that I had may not be all that different from what other people think. I mean, it's not like INTJs think about astrophysics when they make out, but there is something that strikes me as odd about the whole experience.

See, I don't really know what most other people think about when they're making out. Do they have a goal in mind, like is making out just foreplay for them, or are there some people who neck just for the sake of it? I'm sure people make out for both reasons, but what's really amazing to me is how clear all these thoughts were. Like, I didn't feel so caught up in the moment that I was aroused beyond the capacity for rational thought. Perhaps that's the only difference between other people and INTJs, or between others and NT's. But we really should look at my specific thoughts within the context that they happened before deciding that.

"I Really Need A Girlfriend"

Let's set the stage first: 2012 is the best year I've ever had for dating and it was the last year I had where I actually dated. I don't know what it was about that year, but it seemed like I didn't have to go all that long until I tripped over a new girl. That was my last semester at Macomb, and there were actually two girls in my German class that I dated. Well, I dated one and the other narrowly slipped through my fingers.

Going into the summer, I purchased the video game Lollipop Chainsaw for my sister for her birthday and we played it to death. In the game, there's a stage at a high school where you save numerous students. One of the students you save says, "I really need a girlfriend," and I decided to use that as my title for a personal ad on Craigslist. (Unfortunately, CL doesn't do personals anymore since FOSTA was signed into law.)

Anyway, I got a response from a girl named Kim. She was friendly enough, but she was anxious about meeting someone from CL; she didn't want to run into a "Craigslist Killer," and she was concerned about my ad's title. I explained where I got it from and that was that, or so I thought. But that doesn't become relevant until much later.

For our first date, I took her to my local archery range and taught her how to shoot. Later, we went to dinner at a local restaurant where she poked mild fun at me for not saying much. Then as we parted, I asked her if she wanted a hug, which seemed to thrill the hell out of her for some reason. Seriously, it was the most emotion and excitement she showed all day. Overall, the date was really friendly and pleasant. Looking back on it now, knowing what I know and knowing what I think now, I think that probably should've been the only date we had since it was so underwhelming. But I was inexperienced and perhaps I had piqued her curiosity.

A week later we had our second date and we went miniature golfing, and she was... different. On our first date, she was amicable but aloof. On the second date, she was much more hands-on and excitable. At one point, we were talking about music and I mentioned I liked the band Disturbed which prompted her to give me an enthusiastic hug from behind. At the time, I didn't think anything of it and just appreciated the fact she was so openly affectionate. But things escalated from there. Later, she would explain that because she hadn't seen me in a week, her heart grew fonder. But...

Kim wasn't from around where I lived and had agreed to drive down to see me. She didn't know anything about the illustrious city that is Roseville, MI, and I took her on a small tour that included the local Dunham's, which is an underrated, mostly unknown sporting goods chain. Add that to your list of pro dating tips: Take them to a crappy, sporting goods store. But despite the setting, she was even more hands on than she had been. I don't remember anything specific, but I do remember grabbing and tickling her in vengeance. Obviously, we were about two steps removed from playing "Grab Ass," but being a rookie, I couldn't read the signs.

From there, I proceeded to take her to Cold Stone and we got ice cream... eventually. There was some light making out in the car. I don't remember how it started, which bums me out because my first kiss was in there. I'd like to be able to remember it, but I can't. I just know that we played around in the car in a public parking lot in the middle of the day for about fifteen or twenty minutes. A couple of times, she suggested we go and get ice cream, but she didn't seem all that eager to leave the car. She seemed quite content to lay on her side (I had bench seats in my car), and occasionally sneak a few kisses from me. Eventually, we went inside.

Once inside, I joked she had a bunch of hickies on her neck. She immediately became bashful and asking if I was serious. I was surprised how embarrassed she looked, but she had clammed up so quickly that I couldn't help thinking her reaction was terribly cute. I got her order, and then she went to bathroom to check her neck. She came back, we ate our ice cream, sharing our own with each other, and then we hopped back in the car for some more light kissing. But the area was too public. So, we went out driving until we found a shady spot beneath a big tree in an empty parking lot. I stopped there, and we spent the next two hours or more in that one spot. Now, we get to the good part.

Tonsil Hockey

Parked in the shade with my windows rolled down, I removed my glasses and we picked up where we left off. And... it was fun. But like I said above, I was never so into the moment that I lost my exterior perspective on the situation.

Not only was that the day of my first kiss, but also my first French kiss. Strangely enough, though I had never negotiated the maneuver, I didn't go in completely blind. I don't remember totally where I learned the technique, but while we were kissing, I opened my mouth slightly and licked her lips. At first, she sort of resisted. I don't know if she was playing around or if she was trying to prevent herself from losing control, but she didn't seem all that committed to the cause as it didn't make much for her tongue to come out and play. And this is where my first really clear thought in a series of clear thoughts showed up.

Kim had a strange French kissing technique--she would flick her tongue from side-to-side real fast, sort of like a snake, but in the wrong plane. I didn't think anything of it at first, but then I thought, "I wonder if this would be better if she stopped doing that." So, I told her to stop it; not harshly, but it was a directive. And... she didn't. I may have asked her a second time, I don't remember, but it still didn't work.

(Course, that's not to say my technique was perfect. I did at one point activate her gag reflex because I want too far back.)

Say My Name

Anyway, the necking was hot'n'heavy... sort of. At one point, she straddles me, I suddenly got the idea, "Hey. You know how in love scenes, one member of the couple sometimes asks the other to say their name. I imagine that's because it's arousing. Let's see if it works." So I stopped and told Kim, "Say my name," and she did, and... I didn't feel any different.

I think I also had her say "please" or something along those lines, but again, I didn't get a rise out of it. And as we continued, I just couldn't stop thinking, "Well, that's disappointing. I thought there was something to that. Oh, well..."

A Little Drooly

We didn't make out the whole two hours plus. There were at least two breaks. During those times, she would curl up or lie on top of me, and fall asleep. I could tell from her breathing and the fact she lightly drooled on my arm. I didn't mind, but I do remember thinking, "This is incredible. She's so comfortable with me that she can fall asleep on top of me. And this is only our second date." I mean, I guess a woman would have to be comfortable with a man to make out with him in the first place, and in a car of all places, but I was quite impressed and slightly bewildered by how trusting she was.

Her Favorite Underwear

Now, this is interesting. I didn't think much of it back then, but a few months ago, I was perusing Pinterest and I came across this pin.

I didn't think much of this because it has never been relevant in my life, so I decided to file it away for later reference. But then, when I was thinking about this blog post, I had a brain wave. Now, while I can't remember what sort of bra Kim was wearing that day, I did get to see her underwear. She didn't show me them, nor was she ever bottomless, but her pants did slide around a lot. They looked like casual business slacks, but they were made from the same stretchy material yoga pants are. As a result, whenever she lay down or shifted around, her pants would become tangle and either descend or her underwear would ride up.

Now, in my high school days as a Chatroom Playboy, it was often my pleasure to ask some girls what their measurements were and what sort of underwear they had on. I posed the latter question to Kim and she responded, "They're not a thong. They're just normal panties." And they were, more or less. From my recollection, they were cut like briefs because they had a lot of back coverage, but when they rode up, because Kim had a superb derriere, they would then become a little more cheeky. How did I know this if she never took off her pants? Well, I won't go into that. There are some details of this story that are a little too steamy to tell here. But besides what she told me above, she also mentioned that they were her favorite pair. Again, I didn't think anything of it at the time, but going back to the pin, my brain begins to tick.

While her bra and underwear didn't match, she was wearing her favorite pair, and the way I figure it, a girl doesn't put on her favorite underwear without reason. Why would she? A girl wouldn't wear her favorite pair on an ordinary day? Wouldn't she want to save them for a special occasion?

So, I've begun to wonder, is it possible that she woke up that day, knew she had a date with me, and was already in the mood to neck? Knowing that she might be an intimate position or that she might venture into one willingly, did she purposely put on her favorite pair in preparation for that? Perhaps.

The other thought I had was that maybe she put them on by coincidence, but by dint of their presence, she felt extra cute or sexy that day, and on her way to the mini-golf course, she got herself worked up. I may never know the truth, but I will file this incident and thought away for later reference.

"My Busy Hands"

As I mentioned, there are some details about this encounter that I feel are too steamy to go public, which is where most of my busy hands appear in. But before you start jumping to conclusions, I'll let you know now that my hands were always on the outside of her body, and other than our clothes getting twisted or slipping downward, we at no point ever removed them. This was only the second date and it was the middle of the day. There wasn't going to be any hanky-panky. Especially because my brother would strangle me if I ever did do anything really sexual in a car. (He has powers.)

Anyway, as we continued making out, I had my hand on her neck. I already knew at the time that I gave quite good massages--in fact, one of my favorite things to do is to give girls massages. Regrettably, I haven't done it in a while. But anyway, as I had my hand on the nape of her neck, I squeezed and rubbed it. She pulled away and moaned. I then had the thought "What would happen if I rubbed harder?" Well, she simply moaned more and louder. I would later use what I learned here in one of the too-steamy-to-recount instances, and that would have quite an effect on her, but if I have any advice to pass on the men out there, it would be that some light massaging while making out does wonders.

Center Console Chaos

Okay, so this incident didn't happen that day. If you remember, I mentioned my car had bench seats, meaning it couldn't have had a center console. This actually happened in my father's car, which at the time was a new Dodge Challenger, and if you know anything about those cars' interiors, you'll know they're a bit cramped. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

About a week after we made out, she tried to break up with me. I didn't want that. I was so close to finally having a girlfriend and I was going to fight for it. In a desperate move, I asked her to meet me at Dodge Park at that moment. To save myself some gas, I borrowed my father's car and about thirty minutes later, I met her there.

We went for a walk down some of the trails and despite my desperation, I was very cordial, almost business-like in my approach. Her reasoning for wanting to break up with me was twofold: the lesser reason was that to her it didn't seem like we had enough in common, meanwhile, the better reason was that she felt I was placing too much importance on the act of getting a girlfriend and not putting enough emphasis into finding the right girl to be my girlfriend, which is a lesson I have carried with me to this day.

But something interesting happened that day. See, in between the make out sesh and the break up, we had had a third date where we met up at Dodge Park before I took her to my archery league night (she didn't stick around after it began). At that third date, she gave me a strong, almost painful kiss to show how much she missed me, but there was something about that date where I turned her off. She went from being very affectionate and cuddly to very distant. I tried to grab her hand at one point and she visibly pulled away--it wasn't subtle in the least. So what happened?

I don't entirely remember, but I think she asked me some more questions to get to know me, and while I answered them, which is where she came to the conclusion that we didn't have enough in common, I didn't ask her what her thoughts were on it. It wasn't a conversation; there was no back-and-forth. However, when I had rushed to see her to stop the break up, there was plenty of back-and-forth, plenty of conversation. As a result, she went from being a cold fish to very handsy and affectionate again. At one point, she said she was going to sit on the ground beneath a tree. I said okay, but as she went to sit, she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down with her. As you can imagine, I was confused.

From there, we eventually went back to my father's car where I tried to sneak a few kisses out of her. She was quite resistant, but apparently I have a make out face that she couldn't refuse, which is weird to me because that face felt depressing and not romantic at all. She surrendered a few kisses to my cheeks, but that wasn't good enough for me. I never really got what I was after, but some how in the scuffle, she found her way to laying on top of me again. But like I said about Dodge Challengers, they're cramped due to their ponderous center console. And while it was nice to have her laying on top of me, threatening to nap again, I couldn't stop myself from thinking, "There's no way in hell she's comfortable enough to sleep like that. Not laying over the console, the shifter, and the handbrake like that. Not possible." And that is why, if I have any other advice to give, I highly recommend cars with bench seats for making out in, even if they're sh*t-kickers.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Despite how that night ended up, Kim and I didn't stay together. At first, I thought we had made up, but when I hadn't heard from her, I guessed the obvious. I'm still pretty effing confused though on how the relationship ended. How many people make out, or come close to, when they break up with somebody? My guess is not many.

However, Kim did teach me several important lessons about myself, as I've already mentioned, as well as gave me some great feedback on what sort of boyfriend I could be, and how good I am at making out. One of the things she told me was that I don't have to be a "Craigslist killer," that I'm normal enough to approach girls the normal way. But to be honest, I do miss her and I would like to see her one more time. If for nothing else, just to see if I can sneak a few more kisses out of her.

Also, I hope this didn't come off as bragging; I don't think myself the only INTJ to have made out. No, my purpose was to merely illustrate how INTJs have a different perspective during intimate situations. While it's been said that INTJs are really good at sex because they stop thinking and start feeling, and everything they do, they do to please their partner, but this was never completely true for me. Most of my actions, despite my inexperience, were propelled by instinct, but I never let it control me. I was master of my domain the whole time.

*****



Well, you guys, that's it. That's the tale of how I first made out and the unusual thoughts that occurred to me during the session. If you enjoyed that tale and you want to read more, please consider joining my mailing list or even supporting me on Patreon. For a buck a month, I'll keep the good times rolling and make sure to make my blog a priority rather than neglecting it at times.

As for my next post, I'm either going to write about whether or not INTJs are dangerous or what it's like being friends with an INTJ. I might keep the sentimental train rolling. But I will only be doing one big post a week now as I will be getting busier as I look for a part-time job and thanks to my memes, I can produce plenty of quick, high-quality content, so I needn't kill myself anymore to write two posts a week. Plus, I have a buttload of writing to do. So, until next week...

Keep writing, my friends.

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Weird Moments with INTJ #1: Dry Skin Brushes

Hey, everyone.

So, I'm continuing the memes here and this series is called Weird Moments with INTJ. We INTJs can be a bit--just a tiny, little bit--weird or off-beat. So once in a while, strange things happen between us and other people. Or, we pull something truly unexpected out like in this case.

Explanation

I cut my intro short because I was getting ahead of myself. Yes, INTJs do a lot of unexpected things. Most people tend to see us as the mad scientist committing heinous crimes against nature in our free time and when out in public, we tend to look out of place like we just appeared in public by some mystic means. We're surprised, you're surprised, and everyone feels awkward. Well, almost. I chose a long time ago not to let awkward situations get to me. Anyway...

Because people have such a firm idea of who or what INTJs are, specifically our propensity for math and science, our other traits, such as Ni, Fi, and Se, tend to escape them. People forget how idealistic we are or how sensitive we can be. And while people may know that we keep high expectations for ourselves, they forget to extrapolate that concept further which has led to a lesser known but very important characteristic of ours which is that we are constantly improving ourselves. And I don't just mean our smarts.

Believe it or not, INTJs work out. We may not hit the gym, but we do exercise. We do diet. And if, as we look at ourselves in the mirror, we're unsatisfied with the condition of our skin, we look for ways to improve it. I tell you, honestly, I had one bad ass battle with acne in my teenage years. My face was bad, but my back got it the worst. And although I won, it was a war of attrition--I've got some bad scarring. But because I want to look sexy AF in a bathing suit, not only do I have to drop a bunch of weight and lift a bunch of weight, I have to take a stiff-bristled brush to my skin and try to undo four to six years of brutal warfare and a decade of scarring on top of that.

I'm sure this is a strange revelation for a lot of you--an INTJ who is so vain that he's actually going to painful extremes to make himself pretty? Yes, it is true. Look, I don't know if I'll ever get married, but if I do, I want to look like an Olympian (and make love like one) when I walk into the bridal suite on my wedding night. I want to be every woman's wet dream. When I take off my shirt, I want every pair of panties in the vicinity to descend of their own volition.

(Fun Fact: I hate saying/using the word "panties" because it always makes me feel like a pervert, but for the sake of this joke, I'll stomach it.)

As for how INTJs could be like this, you know, vain, it's quite simple. Our Se notices the women we want and what they want, our Fi tells us that if we want a hot girl with a nice bod that it is only fair that we have a nice bod ourselves, and then our Te makes sure we never forget this standard and work for it. I'm not really sure if Ni is involved in the process; if it is, it's in an administrative position allowing all this to happen. Or, it allows for the possibility of the belief that in order to be truly beautiful, we must lift and exfoliate, and when we get the woman of our dreams, physicality and mentality, everything will be gravy from there on out.

*****

 

Well, you guys, that was my first Weird Moments with INTJ. The second one is similar, but I should be able to put a slightly different spin on it. If you enjoyed this post, please consider joining my mailing list or supporting me on Patreon. $1 a month goes a long way toward keeping me from doing real work. And until next time...

 

Keep writing, my friends.

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Being A Writer #1: Concerning the Word "Very"

Hey, everyone.

It's been a while since I last wrote an article for Let's Talk About Writing. Hell, this isn't even a Let's Talk About Writing article. This is a new thing I'm doing where I started to create memes as a means to raise awareness about my "brand." As a result, to help further increase awareness, I've decided to write blog posts further explaining myself for the memes I've come up with. I've already started with my INTJ posts and I decided to expand into writing. So, this is that. Let's get into it.

Concerning the Word "Very"

In some writing circles, they hate the word "very." I don't exactly know why, but my guess is twofold: 1. Because if you describe something as being "very big" or "very pretty," it would be simpler to use "huge" or "beautiful" instead, and 2. "Huge" and "beautiful" are only one word each instead of two, so it cuts down on your word count which in theory cuts down on how many pages need to be printed for your book, which I'm beginning to believe is totally asinine because words like "beautiful" are just as long as "very pretty" is in terms of space used.

Now, while I can appreciate the perspective that "beautiful" is superior to "pretty" and "huge" superior to "big," I personally believe that "beautiful" and "huge" are in their own classes of beauty and size. Ergo, it isn't a big deal to describe something as "very pretty" or "very big" because both are still within the realms of prettiness and bigness, they're just at the extreme top ends without having crossed into beautifulness and hugeness. And in some cases, I would argue that beautifulness and prettiness are not the same thing or that they're not on the same scale, meaning that a girl can just as easily be described as "very pretty" as she could "very beautiful" depending on which scale she falls.

Furthermore, things become even more jostled when you're dealing with an object or thing so big, the only way to describe it is as "extremely enormous" which is practically the same thing as saying "very big." It causes a good editor and eagle-eyed readers to go, "What? You couldn't find one word to take the place of 'extremely enormous?'" Thus, we find ourselves in a vicious cycle of trying to come up with single words to replace an adjective and its adverbial modifier the higher and higher up we go on a scale.

However, what ticks me off the most about getting rid of the word "very" is that I see it as a restriction of creativity. I am a writer and words are my tools. Why should I limit myself in the use of the tools at my disposal? Like I said above, there can be a philosophically and subtle difference between "very big" and "huge" that some people are aware of. Therefore, shouldn't I have access to both terms to use in their specific situations? To not do so would limit my creativity and possibly mislead my readers. The only defense I can think of to that point is that I shouldn't interfere with the imaginations of my readers. I should only give them enough detail to get them started, but then leave it there. But again, the limiting of creativity and subtle differences in specific situations. I can't get around those two.

Therefore, for the sake of my own mental stability, I shall choose to leave my options open and never exclude a particular word for I may need it one day. "Very" stays.

Keep writing, my friends.

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Quick and Dirty INTJ Thoughts #2: I Can Do Anything

Hey, everyone.

So's I'm back with another Quick and Dirty INTJ Thoughts. This is a short quick and dirty thought, so let's just go ahead and jump into it.

Explanation

Some may be quick to contradict this meme, saying that INTJs can't feel emotions or that they can't act illogical, but not only are they wrong, they're hella wrong. Besides, this is more about being able to do things like work retail despite how much it crushes our souls to do so. Now obviously, there are certain limits to this claim, like a male INTJ can't give birth and a female INTJ can't ejaculate sperm, but beyond those tiny gender specific things, there isn't much an INTJ can't do.

While we're not known for our flexibility, we do tend to be rather stubborn. To some extent, we're stubborn just for the sake of proving our detractors wrong, however, it is usually to prove ourselves right or to vindicate our own beliefs. For instance, INTJs are big into keeping their word. So while we may feel like going into work on a particular day will kill us, we still do so because we accepted the job. We gave our word to serve, and serve we will.

But the biggest aspect to this idea that INTJs can do anything comes from the idea that we're Jacks-of-all-trades. Now, where this idea comes from, I'm not too sure, but it probably has something to do with our Ni. In a search for truth and answers, we will put up with jobs like retail and window cleaning for a few months just to see what there is to see. Who knows what we could end up learning? Who knows where we can apply it elsewhere in our lives? Hell, I started employing this philosophy before I knew I was an INTJ. Back when I was in community college, I chose to go after Wayne State's English program rather than Oakland University's because I thought I would benefit more from Wayne's broader requirements whereas OU was much more focused on English majors studying English. (I may have made the wrong choice.)

But anyway, that's the gist. Our ability to do anything comes from a combination of sheer stubbornness and not knowing where the eldritch truths of the world may be found. I could've found it at the bottom of a 3-gallon bucket full of dirty, soapy water. You never know.

Keep writing, my friends.

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Do INTJs Believe in Love?

Hey, everyone.

So in light of it being spring and partially to drum up sales for my book Tales of Romance: Unlikely Lovers, today I'm going to answer the $64,000 question: do INTJs believe in love? But this isn't a simple yes or no scenario. No, the answer is long and complicated, which is quite befitting of an INTJ. So let's get to it. Also, if you guys want to keep up with everything I'm doing, please join my mailing list. Everyone who does will get a sneak peek into whatever I'm currently working.

Or if you're feeling generous, please consider supporting me on Patreon. You'll get to see everything I'm working on there too, but because you'll be patronizing me, you'll get all sorts of extra goodies. Now on with the show.

Do INTJs Believe in Love?

Fighting the Stereotype

If you asked a non-INTJ whether or not INTJs believe in love, what do you think they would say? Well, it would depend on whom you asked. Feeling and Intuitive types are the only two that I can think of who might say yes. Well, maybe Prospecting types, too. But seeing as how Thinking and Sensing types are much more common in the world, then most people are likely to say no. Hell, depending on which INTJ you ask, he's also likely to say no.

But for my part, I do believe in love. And to some extent, I buy into some of the love maxims: "The power of love," "love is all you need," "if you want to be loved, be lovable"...... huh, I guess that's all of them. But like I said, an INTJ's perspective on love is a complicated thing. But before I air my grievances, I really should address the stereotype that INTJs seem immune to love.

Being introverts, INTJs act differently in public than when they're alone. Out in public, INTJs flex their extraverted functions, Te and Se, more so than their introverted functions, Ni and Fi. It could be because we have extraverted thinking and sensing, but it could also be because thinking and sensing are more useful functions out in the world. We've all been in those situations where someone asks, "So, what do you want to do?" and the usual response is "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

While good for a joke or two, this behavior doesn't solve anything or get anything done. In public, decisions must be made and action taken. Someone has to have the cojones to say, "This is what we'll do," and then go do it. This sort of person is very practical and handy. Things are done, and not speculated on. So, if you ask an INTJ in public if he believes in love, unless he has already thought about it, he's not likely to give a satisfying answer. Instead, he's much more likely to say something non-committal and vague.

Or in the case that you're his girlfriend, he'll just kiss you.
Unless you're somewhere very public.

But also because love is something flowery, emotional, and intangible, an INTJ is likely to get embarrassed or annoyed because he's currently in extravert mode and you've just asked him about something that he needs to go into introvert mode to solve, which he's not going to do in public because an INTJ's inner world is where he's most vulnerable. Ergo, INTJs come off like Oscar the Grouch, telling you where you can stuff your belief in love.

But this is only half of the story. It's actually likely to be less than half because INTJs like to use all their functions when making an important philosophical decision that could change their entire perspective. For this reason, an INTJ would be much more susceptible to this sort of question in private where they can use their Ni to explore their thoughts and then use their Fi to make sure they truly feel that way. On top of that, they'll throw in their Te to make sure their thoughts are logical and then use their Se to use evidence from the real world to back up their arguments.

To this end, if given the proper evidence and personal experience, and given adequate time and space to think, INTJs are capable of believing in love. Plus, we're INTJs. We can do anything, dammit!

The Ideal VS the Application

However, having gone through all that, we now come to the part where I get to air my dating grievances, and that is over the ideal of love versus how budding relationships tend to develop.

See, the problem with sayings like "all you need is love" is that they're often contradicted by people's actions such as when they refuse to associate with you in a romantic context when you let the bomb drop that you're broke. This has happened to me twice... within the same month.

Now, some may argue that a man should provide for the woman, and I don't necessarily disagree, but just because you're broke doesn't mean you aren't capable to scraping up money when you need it. INTJs are the sort of people who can go through long, long periods of being broke and not mind because they don't need the money. Apparently, there are some women who mind greatly.

Thus, it is due to such phenomena as this that causes INTJs to get a little jaded. They're otherwise perfect or ideal partners, but because one or two of their values differ from the common perspective, they're rejected. But this doesn't cause INTJs to lose belief in the power of love. No. The actual conclusion they arrive at is that there are people out there who don't believe in love. INTJs do not lose their belief in the impossible, they just think everyone else is too closed-minded or hypocritical.

However, these experiences will have an interesting effect on INTJs. Going back to the financially tapped example, if INTJs ever find themselves in a position of serious bunce, they will no longer be interested in those who once cast them aside. They don't do anything to please others or to be accepted by others--just to prove them wrong. But that's not the end of the story.

Now that they are in a high valued position lacking nothing, they'll take this as an opportunity to conduct several social experiments where they flash their wads, dress nicely, and drive a Ferrari but tell every beautiful woman they meet that they still live with their parents. Similarly, they'll flip it. They'll go out into the normal world dressed in jeans and drive a clunker, but make no mention of how much cheese they actually have just to see how women react when they finally see their great, big ass mansions.

It can't be denied that the role of financial provider is a good place to be if a man doesn't want to spend his entire life making love to himself. However, if a woman tells an INTJ that she believes "all you need is love" and she ends up ditching him when it's revealed he's broke as hell, the INTJ actually doesn't lose anything--it's the woman who becomes the villain. After all, she's the one who's actions contradict her words.

Now, true, some women have never said "all you need is love," and everyone has standards for whom they'll date. But if a person acts contradictory to what they say they believe, an INTJ is not going to believe what they say. People have to make sense. This "all you need is love" ideal versus "No, I actually want you to have money" practice is only one example of how people idealize love and then contradict it when they go in search of it. Some guys want to marry a virgin, but they've been getting laid regularly since they were fifteen, while some women say they want a man who's responsible, virtuous, and stable, and then they f*ck an outlaw biker in the handicap stall.

Meanwhile, the happy, little INTJ continues to hold onto his beliefs until his dying day. It's going to take more than a few assh*les to get him to change his tune. And one day, God willing, he'll be as rich as a king and meet his soul mate--an ENFP. In fact, God made ENFPs so INTJs could get laid--I mean!--so that INTJs could have someone to love.

"Sweetheart to miss, sugar to kiss."

Closing Statement

Well, you guys, that's it for now. I hope this didn't come off as just me making excuses as for why I haven't had a date since 2012. Hell, a couple of times in the past five and a half years, I have had some cheese in my life and still couldn't get a date. I wonder if it's the whole I-don't-want-kids thing. Or maybe it's the I-don't-care-if-I-actually-ever-marry thing. I mean, those are some of the biggest reasons why I don't feel the pressure to actually "make a living." Of course though, there are other reasons why I feel the pressure to make a living.

Anyway, God willing, my next post will be about what INTJs think about during and after making out. In other words, I'm going to tell you guys about one of the two times I made out, and some of the thoughts that popped into my head as I did so. It's sure to be revealing and mildly embarrassing. There might even be some sexy results. But until then...

Keep writing, my friends.

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An INTJ Gives Advice: How to Give the Perfect Hug

Hey, everyone.

Judging by the title of this post, I'm likely to draw a crowd that isn't my usual one, therefore introductions are in order. Hello. I am Bryan C. Laesch, the Writer, and this is my blog. Usually I write stuff relating to MBTI and INTJs, and this time will be no exception. Originally, it wasn't going to have the INTJ angle, but since I present everything in here as fact like only an INTJ can, I may as well present it from that angle.

But first, let me start this off by saying that contrary to popular belief, INTJs do like hugs. I should know as an INTJ myself. I quite enjoy them, although I am very selective about whom I hug. But this post isn't about who to select embrace--this is a technical manual on how to give someone what I have deemed... The Perfect Hug.

Now, you may think "all hugs are perfect" or some sentimental BS like that, but that's blatantly false. Through the hugs I've given and received, I've noted the qualities that make a good hug and the qualities that don't. And because I'm an INTJ, I'm probably right and only possibly wrong.

But before I begin, I want to do a shameless self-plug. If you enjoy my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon. $1 a month really helps me out, but I will accept more if you feel like it. Don't worry though, I offer plenty of rewards for higher dollar amounts. Also, I released a new book a couple of weeks ago called Tales of Romance: Unlikely Lovers. I'll bet you $2.99 that INTJs can write romance.

With that out of the way, let's get on with the show.

The Perfect Hug

But before I give you the skinny on how to perform The Perfect Hug, a question: what is The Perfect Hug? It's exactly what it sounds like. No mystery here. However, judging by some of the hugs I've seen, it seems to be quite a mysterious and little-known about technique and phenomenon. However, I can tell you that The Perfect Hug does leave an impression on you. You remember it long after you have experienced it. To prove it to you, I'm going to give you two examples of The Perfect Hug that I experienced myself. But in order to do so, we must go... into the past.

May 2007

When I was a young man of a tender 18-years old, not even graduated from high school yet, I had the privilege of sharing a rather powerful embrace with my high school's campus minister. Now, that may seem a little weird to some of you, but Mrs. LaRocca was the affectionate sort. Our principal even joked about it at graduation or some other similar ceremony.

Anyway, I had stopped by the school to pick up my personal files and show off my cool Gothic, spiky hat and my cool Gothic, Hot Topic shorts with the chains. Who would have thought that I, a very straight-laced student, was into spikes and chains and metal and sh*t. Anyway, I was passing by Mrs. LaRocca's office and she called me into it and we had a short discussion. About what? I can't remember. But as I was getting up to leave, Mrs. LaRocca went in for the hug and I didn't refuse her. She squeezed affectionately and I returned the sentiment. Then she squeezed again, and I squeezed back. And then finally, there was a third set of squeezes. I'm not complaining about the squeezes, but it is strange that there was three of them in a sequence, and the hug was sort of long.

Some may think that Mrs. LaRocca was copping a feel, but I highly doubt that. Even if she was, there's nothing I could do about it as she is deceased now, and besides, the hug was burned into my mind. I thoroughly enjoyed it. So even if I was a victim...

November 2017

For the next example of The Perfect Hug, we now skip to a more recent date. Back in November, there was a momentous occasion in the form of my high school reunion. Peculiar how both of these are related to my old high school. Anyway...

At the end of the night, my two hot dates, actually two girls who graduated the year after me that I took as my guests, went to say goodbye to another girl, Jessica, from their class who had married a guy from my class. And the goodbyes took a while. I had already stayed later than I meant to and it was a quarter to one in the morning. All I wanted to do was leave because I was tired and sort of disappointed with how the evening had turned out. But then something special happened.

My guests finished their goodbyes and I similarly went to wish a good night to Jessica just to be cordial. I didn't dare presume a hug from her as she and I were never that close, but she decided to give me one anyway. Although, that decision might have been alcoholically induced as she was pretty spiffed.

According to her, she had been drinking since noon and there was plenty of alcohol at the reunion. She even had a small plastic cup full of wine when she went to hug me. But because I don't believe in giving whimpy hugs, I went ahead and pulled her in tightly. It was just for a second or two as I had pulled her off balance and spilled her wine a little. I apologized, but Jessica said it was fine, commenting she appreciated the tightness. She set her wine down and came back for round two. And I tell you, she really gave it the beans. And what can I say, I don't give whimpy hugs, so I returned the sentiment. It was the best hug I had received in more than six months, and it's probably the best hug I've had in the past six months.

But that's the point of The Perfect Hug. You remember it long (long, long, long) after the fact because it touches you like nothing else can. It turns a sh*tty night into a great one, and keeps an administrator burned into your head after her death and makes you model every hug you give after that after the one you shared with her. That's the power of The Perfect Hug.

The Technique

Alright. With story time out of the way, now we can dive into the how-to.

1. Get on My Level

The first step is good news for all those who have bad backs or for those dudes who have accidentally choked themselves on the huggee's shoulder when bending over. The first step is to be on equal ground as the object of your affection. However, this does not simply mean that you're both standing on a level surface as if one of you is taller than the other, it will still be awkward as hell. No, no.

In order to "be on the same level," I suggest matching the level of your torsos or heads. If that means that one of you needs to step down or step up, or one of you needs to pick the other up (only do so when necessary), then do so. You may also both sit down, but there is a caveat to this which I'll get into in just a moment.

Anyway, having your torsos on the same level will allow you both to have the proper body positioning and leverage for the next few steps, hence why I try to dissuade you from picking up the object of your affection.

2. Open Yourself Up (to Love!)

Having someone put an arm around your neck or waist is a great feeling. There's no feeling quite like camaraderie or like the sensation of "this is mine." But... it's a fact that side hugs suck. Car hugs suck. And most of the time, sitting hugs suck because you've got a bunch of legs in the way. The caveat to the sitting hug I mentioned is this: the smaller one of you should sit in the bigger person's lap, legs angled to the side obviously, or just go ahead and straddle the bigger person.

Swag Activated

But what step number two is about is that you should face the person you intend on embracing and you should be open to allowing your chest to touch theirs.

3. Where You Stickin' Those Hands?

This is more about arm placement than your hands. Anyway, my tip here is that the smaller person should wrap their arms around the other's neck, and the bigger should wrap their arms around the middle to lower back. I understand that this embrace may be too "intimate" or "personal" for certain situations, in which case I'd day the smaller person can wrap their arms around the other's torso, and the bigger one will wrap their arms around the other's upper back.

However, do not take this opportunity to play a game of grab ass. This is The Perfect Hug. It's a sign of unconditional love, not bow-chicka-wow-wow.

4. Keep Your Butt In

Do you ever get the urge to just give someone a swift kick in the ass? I get the feeling all the time. But I am an INTJ, so... But! I do get this feeling the most when I see people hug and they stick their butts out. Now, you may argue that some people's butts are sticking out because they're leaning over to hug a person who's sitting, but this scenario violates step number one, therefore...

But it really drives me crazy when I see people who are standing and doing it. What? Are you afraid of getting close? Then why are you hugging? And if it's got something to do with preserving each other's hair, I swear to God, somebody's gettin' a booting tonight!

Some may then ask the question, "But what do I do if the guy I'm hugging is, ahem! Excited?" If you don't like feeling a boner or a specific someone's boner, don't engage in the hug. But this is about The Perfect Hug, and there are no boners in The Perfect Hug. Again, this is about unconditional love and not brown chicken, brown cow. So once one is popped, you don't need to worry about having perfect form anymore. Plus, the dude with the erection ruined the hug first, so you don't need to feel guilty about not being able to give The Perfect Hug.

5. Squeeze!

This is the trickiest part of the hug because so many overdo it, and instead of being an affectionate cuddle, the hug turns into a sick, new WWE wrestling move. I remember one hug I got from a friend of mine. She was enthusiastic about it at the time because she had been going through a tough time and I was there for her in her time of need. But when we embraced, her hands landed at the base of my neck, and so when she squeezed, it was actually painful.

Ergo, the amount of pressure you want to aim for is tighter than when you first embrace, but there's no need to put all your strength into it. You can get a little enthusiastic and squeeze harder than necessary, but if the huggee starts twitching or screaming, you've gone too far.

6. It's More Than a Feeling

It's ironic that I say it's more than a feeling because that's what this bit is about--the "feeling" of The Perfect Hug. A better word would be the "intention" or "aura." And as I have already stated, The Perfect Hug is about unconditional love. There's nothing pervy or romantic about it; it's just love and acceptance.

Some may argue that you don't need a proper form or technique to pull off such an embrace so long as the unconditional love is there, but let's get real; proper alignment, form, and technique can all be sort of hypnotizing when executed properly. Not to mention it puts you, the hugger, into the right frame of mind where you can drum up the feeling of unconditional love and pass it along to the huggee. If however it takes you a moment to feel the love before you can "activate" it, I suggest a brief meditation right before so you can put your mind at peace and feel the love fill you up.

Conclusion

And there you have it! A step-by-step guide to The Perfect Hug. Not to mention, this also concludes what may become the first of a new series on my blog: An INTJ Gives Advice. I can give life changing advice and challenge INTJ stereotypes at the same time! Yippy-skippy! But seriously, I truly meant everything I said here. I will never forget the hug I had with Mrs. LaRocca or Jessica, and they are the goals I strive for when I give a hug, although it can be frustrating when the object of my affection doesn't put in the same amount of work. Story of an INTJ's life... well, sort of, but not really.

Anyway, for next week, I plan on writing those two posts on whether an INTJ believe in love and what INTJs think about during and after they make out. Hopefully they help move a few copies of Tales of Romance: Unlikely Lovers. So be on the look out for those posts sometime next week. And, as I always say...

Keep writing, my friends.

More About Bryan C. Laesch:

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