Introverts are notoriously small talk-phobic, as they find idle chatter to be a source of anxiety, or at least annoyance. For many quiet types, chitchat can feel disingenuous.
“Let’s clear one thing up: Introverts do not hate small talk because we dislike people,” Laurie Helgoe writes in “Introvert Power: Why Your Inner Life Is Your Hidden Strength.” “We hate small talk because we hate the barrier it creates between people.”
2. You go to parties -– but not to meet people.
If you’re an introvert, you may sometimes enjoy going to parties, but chances are, you’re not going because you’re excited to meet new people. At a party, most introverts would rather spend time with people they already know and feel comfortable around. If you happen to meet a new person that you connect with, great — but meeting people is rarely the goal.
I finished this logo for my school’s new trans/nb/gnc group, Umbrellas! I’m the new treasurer (even though we wont be able to get school funding for another two semesters), but wish us luck in making Clark University more accepting!
The walk to the first lecture class was full of wonder and excitement, if one didn’t account for the faces of the almost-dead seniors who wanted no part in campus life anymore.
Still, Lexa was receiving her fair share of stares, her presence not nearly as prominent as it was back at Arkadia. Yet.
Lexa was wearing a typical crisp white collared shirt and tight black jeans that almost gave her a formal sort of look. When Clarke had questioned it, she’d replied “I have a meeting with the athletic director and the university president.”
Clarke didn’t even seem fazed.
She, on the the other hand, had opted for a simple tank top, flannel, and torn jeans. The morning and later afternoons could be chilly, though, so Clarke opted for Lexa’s famed letterman jacket.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely why she’d chosen a jacket with Lexa’s name plastered across the back.
Lexa smiled as soon as she saw Clarke wearing it, and hadn’t stopped since. The two of them walked through the main campus quad together, linking hands, taking in the sights and sounds of their supposed home for the next four years.
made with so much love for @clexa-hsau‘s sequel. I hope you guys like it!
Niki, thank YOU for always inspiring me and believing in me when no one else would.
this could go in a number of angsty directions but I think we all need a little healing from the last episode. hope you like, anon!
is running as fast as she can. Through the dinner lines, past the bewildered
workers. They do not understand her haste, but all that matters to Clarke is
that Bellamy Blake is laying all the way across camp, drugged and injured, and
she is not there with him.
had waited all evening for him to wake up, and just as he was coming to
consciousness, she’d been called away. An attack on the Eastern Front, they’d
said. It looked as if armies were moving in. The moment she found out it was a
false alarm, she’d turned around and booked it back.
feels the radio dig into her waist as she runs. She’d used it to speak to her
mother just minutes ago, who had instructed her to keep Bellamy awake at all
costs. Despite the heavy painkillers he’d been given for his concussion – potential concussion, Clarke reminds
herself – it’s crucial to keep Bellamy conscious.
last, Clarke bounds into the medbay. Miller catches her eye as she approaches. He’s
standing next to the head of the bed, and Monty is perched at Bellamy’s feet.
he awake?” Clarke asks, out of breath. The question is needless, she realizes.
Bellamy’s eyes – though heavily lidded – are open.
says, “He’s only responding to Monty’s voice.”
does, in fact, appear to be blinking sluggishly at Monty. “Keep talking to
him,” Clarke directs. “We have to keep him conscious.”
gives a curt nod. To Bellamy, he says, “Can you hear me, Bellamy?” There
is no response. “Bellamy, can you understand me?”
time, Bellamy lets out a groan. Clarke bites her lips. God, she hopes he’s not
in any pain. Please let him be okay.
keeps his voice steady. "Bellamy,” he says, “I need you to answer
me. Can you hear me?“
slow blink, then another. Then Bellamy opens his mouth. “Yes,” he
this time, Clarke realizes she’s been holding her breath.
not the only one relieved. She hears Miller sigh, sees Monty’s shoulders drop.
He says, “Do you know who I am, Bellamy?”
blinks again. “No.“
Monty is surprised, he does not show it. In fact, he catches Clarke’s eyes,
mouthing, “It’s the drugs. Don’t freak
not,” Clarke mutters.
asks Bellamy, "Do you know where you are?”
squints his eyes. After a beat, they roll up to the ceiling, lids slowly beginning
to droop. Clarke’s stomach clenches, because is he passing out again, oh
God—but then he says, “Ship.”
looks at Miller. “Ship?” Miller
mouths, eyebrows lifted.
“He is right,” Clarke mouths back, unsure why
she feels so defensive.
continues, “Can you tell me your full name?”
Blake,” he answers.
How old are you, Bellamy?”
you remembered what happened?”
blinks. He once again looks up to the ceiling, his lids relaxing. With a start,
Clarke realizes now he is losing
consciousness. “He’s passing out!” she yells.
her voice, however, Bellamy’s eyes open and snap to Clarke’s. She freezes at
Monty’s voice is quiet, “Do you know who that is?”
gaze lingers on her face, hard and unyielding. After what feels like a
lifetime, his examination softens. “Yeah,” he murmurs.
you tell me her name?”
do you know about her?”
is unable to stop the grin that forms on her face. Bellamy, too, is looking at
her, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
tests her voice on him. She asks, “Can you hear me?”
you in pain?”
looks at the slight strain in his eyes, the way he holds his right arm. She
crosses her arms. “Are you lying?”
shakes her head. “You’re an idiot,” she informs him. Because he is. How stupid
he was to go after that damn moose – falling off a tree in the process – just
to ensure that their people would not starve this winter. Stupid, stupid hero.
knows she’ll have time to yell at him properly later. For now, she says, “Where
does it hurt?”
distant part of Clarke thanks the universe that it’s not his head. She peels
back the blanket to peek at the joint. It’s bruised, but not deformed or
swollen. “You’ll live,” she says. “I can’t give you more medication.”
looks at this boy, hurt and battered and lying about his pain, and the relief
that floods her is unreal. “Glad you’re safe,” she murmurs.
radio suddenly begins to beep. A crackle, then, “Clarke, we’ve got a
situation on the Eastern Front. Confirmed movement towards the Ark, over.”
just like that, her relief dissipates. She looks at Miller and Monty, seeing
her own fear reflected in their eyes.
Monty says, “We got it here.”
nods. She knows she needs to leave, as much as her heart wants to stay. She
says into the radio, “I’ll be right there, over.”
leans down beside Bellamy, locating his good hand to give it a squeeze.
“I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t do more stupid things.”
her surprise, Bellamy squeezes her hand back. “Okay,” he murmurs. His
eyes are heavy, but he still holds the soft smile. “Love you.”
doesn’t know how long she stares at the boy. She only realizes his eyes have
closed when her radio screeches, “We need you here ASAP, Clarke. Over.”
Miller who speaks. “Clarke, we’ll get him awake. You need to go.”
thinks she nods, she thinks she replies to the radio, but her body is on
autopilot. Her feet take her out of the medbay without much of her own input, her
heart thrashing in her chest. In the cool night, despite the threat of attack
impending just outside their borders, all Clarke can feel are her fingers,
still warm from Bellamy’s grasp.
Prompt: Perhaps a continuation of your Jealousy series? Canon S3 universe – Clarke, who is slowly but surely reconciling with Lexa, runs into Niylah in Polis. Lexa observes their interaction. Cue awkwardness and maybe a bit of jealousy. But, of course, Lexa would never admit it since jealousy is the product of weak mind or something like that. :)
The night was quiet, the hour so late that even those who fought against sleep failed against its power. The curtain danced in the breeze while the cold seeped in under it, freezing the concrete floor, slowly spreading into the room like a disease. It was no match for the bodies in the bed.