and then it just ignored it by default

xNTx Friends


ENTJ:

  • Crazy schedule, still manages to hang around with friends.
  • Insanely driven. Vital necessity of being The Best™.
  • Doesn’t have time for bullshit, ever.
  • Generally sweet, scary when mad (emphasize ‘scary’).
  • Highly motivated and ambitious.
  • No drama, thank you.
  • Flawless facial control (low-key scary as well).
  • INTP’s recklessness makes her have a mini heart attack every now and again.
  • Manners matter.
  • Has been super busy lately.
  • And by ‘lately’ we mean since always until forever.

Common phrases include:

– “You might find this of some help”.
– “This is so interesting”.
– “Yes, I’ve read about it”.
– “Sorry, I already have plans”.
– “I’d actually prefer to do it myself”.
– “Really, just let /me/ do it :)”.


ENTP:

  • Sharp tongue.
  • Comeback generator.
  • Laid back attractiveness and incredible charisma.
  • Bulldozer mode when mad.
  • Put-together and confident.
  • Has a fame for being flirty.
  • Hasn’t had that many partners at all.
  • “wrecking ball” (- mother mother) is his life theme song.
  • Is actually quite delicate.
  • Almost all his facial expressions are masks.
  • Hiding his real emotions seems to have become a life purpose.
  • His deep interests surprise most people.
  • “Is very intelligent, but way too lazy at school” squad with INTP.
  • Is seen as a bad influence.
  • Actually has a pretty solid moral code.
  • Fashion style score: BADASS. (the aesthetics are real).

Common phrases include:

– “Think about it this way”.
– “Why, am I bothering you?” + smirk.
– “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to your bullshit”.
– “Why does everyone believe I’m lying?”


INTJ

  • Works silently because success speaks for itself.
  • The library is his natural habitat.
  • Very specific fields of interest.
  • Seems very polite, and he is.
  • (Doesn’t actually believe in politeness itself, has only learned to follow formalities in order to make his life easier). 
  • Efficient™.
  • Crisis over personal traits of which the analysis were thought to be concluded. 
  • Really brain, why this again. Why.
  • Has learned to master several skills that he doesn’t even enjoy.

Common phrases include:

– “No”. (Default reply to INTP’s proposes).
– “That is /such/ a bad idea”.
– “Actually…” (*insert unasked correction*).
– “I’m still considering it”.
– “What do you mean it’s not polite to tell them how wrong they are?”
– “Of course I cannot change my schedule” (to ENTP).


INTP

  • Has strong opinions on matters that she has given a lot of thought (and we mean a lot).
  • Gets overwhelmed by being the center of attention.
  • Became an Ancient Rome expert overnight.
  • Comfy discrete clothes.
  • Deadlines are a very flexible concept.
  • Actually, every concept should be prone to constant revision.
  • Study time is the perfect time for introspection and/or new ideas development.
  • Either absolutely hyped or completely indolent.

Common phrases include:

– “My nights are a mix of insomnia and belated lunch”.
– “What if we…” (Proposes crazily awesome plan to INTJ).
– “There are pubs in which you can hear a much more refined language than in the Congress”.
– “Because apathy is the foundation of my being” (as a response to ENTJ asking her why she doesn’t just /do/ the stuff).


Shared traits

  • Difficulty to compute feelings (we know, we know, ‘such a cliché’. Still true).
  • Allergies: stupidity, ignorance, illogical social rules.
  • “WHY do people refuse to THINK”.
  • Rich lexicon (xNTJs’ default mode, xNTPs’ show it when the situation is worth it).
  • Best debates between them, NFs are sometimes invited.
  • Would always choose knowledge over ignorance, even if it implies unhappiness.
  • “What do you mean it was offensive? It’s the truth!” (As a response to ENFJ).

———————

IxxJ squad

xNFx squad

anonymous asked:

whether or not ace people belong in the lgbt community is situational and not determined on a mass basis

strongly disagree

asexuality is completely different than heterosexuality. it’s the complete lack of sexual attraction. the presumption that “no attraction” defaults to “straight attraction” is heteronormative. saying that a homo-romantic asexual belongs in the lgbt community but a hetero-romantic asexual does not is completely ignoring their asexuality to look at their romantic attraction instead, which just invalidates all asexuals. 

who you should fight: pjo/hoo edition
  • jason grace: who wins: jason but i mean why are you trying to fight him anyway. he’s a good kid
  • hazel levesque: who wins: hazel. she’s literally a witch. do you want to die.
  • leo valdez: who wins: it doesn’t even matter who wins please just fight this boy. he might set you on fire but who cares. someone needs to punch him. i’ll help you
  • grover underwood: who wins: you but at what cost. why are you fighting this cinnamon bun
  • thalia grace: who wins: get her a few feet off the ground and ur gold. otherwise this is a guaranteed loss. probably better to just avoid
  • piper mclean: who wins: piper probably but as long as you don’t let her talk you might win. one word and you’ll end up dead and possibly sell ur soul to her though
  • reyna avila ramírez-arellano: who wins: reyna. why would you even try this
  • rachel elizabeth dare: who wins: you might win but she could also just stop mid-fight and predict the exact moment of your death. she scares me
  • will solace: who wins: you. he can’t do much to you and he’s the best healer at camp too so he’ll be okay probably. fight him
  • clarisse la rue: who wins: clarisse. tbh if you’re fighting clarisse she probably started it so good luck getting outta that one
  • annabeth chase: who wins: ANNABETH. DONT DO THIS. THIS IS LITERALLY SUCH A BAD IDEA DON’T DO IT DON’T D O I T
  • percy jackson: who wins: could go either way. the kid might end up killing you in some spectacular and painful way but he might also just fuck up so badly you win by default. go for it though i want to see him get punched
  • coach hedge: who wins: you. just ignore the screaming and avoid the bat
  • luke castellan: who wins: he’s a good sword fighter but if you stand out of range and ask him about his evil plans/tragic backstory he’ll go off on a four page speech and you can try to get ur shot in then
  • frank zhang: who wins: why would you even want to fight frank?????? is he too kind???? too sweet for u??? please dont
  • nico di angelo: who wins: nico. he has killed more people than any of the seven and he doesn’t even have to touch them. dont try this
  • octavian: who wins: you. kick him
rethink the caregivers who:

— don’t spend time getting to know you
— keep you in little space constantly
— rarely praise/always point out flaws
— encourage self-deprecating behavior
— make you feel like you have to tip-toe around them
— don’t take “no” for an answer
— force their body on you
— constantly use suggestive phrases
— make you cautious of what you say around them
— don’t respect your boundaries because it conflicts with their rules
— ignore you as punishment
— use “annoying” as an insult & “just shut up” as a default comeback
— get physical without permission
— offer money rewards for pictures or actions
— threaten to leave for misbehavior

caregivers have bad days - sometimes we break rules just like you or our mental illnesses set us back - but please be weary when these bad days are every day. abuse is consistent & very easy to get addicted to if you overlook the signs. stand tall & know your worth when confronting suspicious behavior - if the caregiver you’re confronting gets more aggressive or denies actions instead of trying to resolve the issue, it’s time to leave. if you can’t find the strength to walk away on your own or your fear gets the better of you, please seek help from a trusted person, hotline, or even a local police station. abuse is not the “love” any of you deserve so please rethink if someone is making you feel worthy of pain.

anonymous asked:

So uh. I noticed you're kinda naked. Is that intentional, or... ? For Tsuna and Reborn please

“So uh. I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional, or…?” Tsuna trails off as he huddles in his cocoon of blankets, preparing to go to bed. 

Reborn scoffs. “Your cow brat destroyed my bed, so I’ll be sleeping with you. And I happen to sleep naked. Budge over, Dame-Tsuna.”

Tsuna doesn’t move though. “Maybe I don’t want you in my bed.”

Reborn arches an eyebrow and looks distinctly unimpressed. Tsuna meets his eyes and says nothing.

This is part of their game. Ever since Reborn’s body caught up to where he was before the curse, its been becoming increasingly hard to ignore the weight of his gaze, the way his hands seem to linger just a hair longer than before whenever he touches Tsuna. He’s still Reborn, but the boundaries between them are being subtly prodded into changing once more. This time, in ways Tsuna has no experience in, and has no clue on how to deal with.

So perhaps it says something about the amount of time he’s spent with Reborn that his default idea is playing hard to get. 

“Why not?” Reborn asks, putting a hand on his hip (and nope, Tsuna’s not going to be lured into looking below the chest at all). “You should be honored to have someone like me grace you with my presence. You certainly never seemed to mind when I was small.

“Yes well,” Tsuna points out dryly. “There’s a world of difference between sharing a bed with you as a baby when I was thirteen, and sharing one with you as a grown man now when I’m twenty two.”

Reborn’s gaze darkens, and he looks very much the part of the predator as he tilts his head slightly and utters and quiet “Oh?”

Tsuna has to remind himself to breath after a second, and after swallowing down enough saliva to wet his suddenly very dry mouth, continues. “Well yes. For one, you didn’t hog nearly as many blankets as you probably will now back then. And I refuse to sleep with a blanket hog. So shoo!” And he rolls over, sticking his head under his pillow and praying to whatever gods are available that Reborn takes the hint.

No such luck. A second later the pillow over his head is thrown aside, and Reborn grins down at him, wicked. “Well then, we should snuggle, so we don’t hog blankets, hm?”

Oh no, Tsuna thinks, and a second later he sighs as his blankets are whipped off him, and a warm body wraps itself around him in their stead. The blankets are returned, but the pillow remains gone, a prisoner to Reborn. “There we go,” the man says smugly. “Now isn’t that better?”

Tsuna kind of wants to die a little. While there’s nothing necessarily sexual going on right now, this is rather intimate. Tsuna has very little idea how to deal with intimate as far as Reborn’s concerned. His Guardians? Sure, put him in a snuggle pile with his Guardians any day of the week. Reborn? Not so much.

“Sure,” he says, and turns his back to Reborn, hoping the man will take the clue. He’s used up all his defiance for tonight, and the idea of pushing his luck further results in mental images of Reborn yanking his chain while he blushes and stutters and tries to make himself melt into the floor. “Now go to sleep.”

Except. Except.

Reborn presses himself up against Tsuna’s back, tangling their legs and hooking his chin over Tsuna’s shoulder, arms wrapping themselves around Tsuna’s sides. “Alright,” he purrs. “Goodnight, Tsunayoshi.”

Tsuna says nothing. Reborn drops off after a few moments, but Tsuna doesn’t dare to move. He stays awake until almost two in the morning, when he’s simply too exhausted to stay awake panicking. 

The first thing he hears upon waking is the sound of soft humming. There are fingers, gentle and warm, stroking the back of his neck. Tsuna mumbles nonsense into his pillow, snuggling closer to whichever one of his Guardians has snuck into his bed again. Surely a few more minutes of sleep won’t hurt. It’s Sunday. There’s barely anything to do on Sundays.

The fingers dig into a muscle on his shoulder, and Tsuna positively purrs and arches up into the hand, stretching. Soft laughter meets his actions. “Look at you, all affectionate. After how cruel you were to me last night, I was certain I’d wake up alone.” The fingers dig again, and Tsuna drifts between being almost asleep and almost awake, unsure which way to go. “I should have known you’d be a snuggler.”

“G’t sleep,” Tsuna says to whoever they are. He’s too tired to put a face to the voice, but he knows they’re familiar, and that’s enough for him. “S’nday.”

“So it is.” The body presses closer, and Tsuna rolls over and happily presses closer, letting his own arms wrap around the warm torso, nuzzling into their bare chest. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man, Tsunayoshi, or you’d likely be getting a different kind of wake up call right now.”

Tsuna falls back asleep before whoever the person is can make good on whatever threat they’re making, or whatever the heck they’re talking about. The next time he wakes up he’s alone, and feeling much more rested. He scrubs the sleep from his eyes, takes a warm shower, and then goes downstairs for breakfast. 

“Sleep well?” Reborn asks as he sits down. “I didn’t hog too many blankets, did I?” he snickers at the look on Tsuna’s face.

“Demon,” Tsuna mutters. “Horrible, horrible demon.”

“Now now, let’s not go using such nasty names so early in the morning. You were so sweet to me earlier - let’s go back to that.”

Sweet? Tsuna frowns, wondering what Reborn’s talking abo–

Oh. Oh wait, he…. there was someone in bed with him this morning, wasn’t there?

“You bastard,” he whispers, heat flooding his cheeks as he remembers. Oh dear lord. Reborn’s smirk only makes it that much worse. “You say anything, and I swear I’ll put you in a grave, Reborn!”

“Say anything about what?” Reborn gives his most innocent look. “I didn’t see anything. Certainly didn’t hear anything. What were we talking about again?”

Tsuna isn’t buying it for a second. “One word.”

Reborn just smiles his sunny I’m going to blackmail you so hard smile, and drinks his coffee. 

Okay but I’m so angry at everyone who spread and continues to spread that “the ace community is super extra white” shit.

Like at first I was like “okay I’m just pissed at white people doing it, PoC need to be able to talk about the racism they experience in pretty much whatever way feels right to them”. But people have not just vented about racism and called it out in this way, they have over and over used this “aces/aros are so white” argument to try and discredit “ace tumblr”, they have erased me and others like me from my own community, they have erased the work that many PoC have put into the community.

White people in “the discourse” have over and over acted like their own white privilege pales compared to that of “the ace community” and they have largely gotten away with it. People have used a god damn AVEN survey and acted like a census from a racist site many PoC left early on accurately represents us, while ignoring more inconvenient data from that same survey (like only 22% respondents having been heteroromantic). People have told me curtly to shut up, that I’m tokenizing myself by having opinions they don’t like, and they have literally tried to remove my PoC card despite me making it very easy for people to find it on my blog and in my posts that I’m not white.

“Discoursers” have sexualized aces and dehumanized aros and don’t see that it’s racist. “Discoursers” have said people on the other side of the debate have never experienced “real oppression”, often coupling it with the “most aces are white+cis+het” claim, and don’t understand that it’s among other things racist. White “discoursers” talk about how super extra white and racist “the ace community” is and don’t understand that they have left their lane far behind and that it’s racist, and an expression of them distancing themselves from their own white privilege.

“The discourse” thrives on this, on painting “the ace community” as the most white, the most privileged, because it means our opinions are ignorant and worthless essentially by default. Saying “ace tumblr is the most white and racist” as an “argument” in “the discourse” is convenient, and is one thing that makes it so much easier to dismiss anything we say out of hand and mock us relentlessly, and if the price is making PoC who are part of “ace tumblr” feel like shit or even exposing us to more racism, oh well, we’re just tokens, we’re barely even there, we don’t matter.

Every time I see this “the ace community is so white (and that’s why ‘the discourse’ is right)” bullshit I get furious and I have not felt this erased as a PoC in the ace community since I left AVEN.

hey im just running a patch the sentient robot that blogs for me real quick, there might be some bugs while everything restarts, like basic processes that i usually have turned off might default back to on, ignore anything weird

Those of you who follow me, or know my Zooey Shepard need to know a few things, A: I’ve been messing up pretty badly!! I first started playing Mass Effect when I was like 16, and instead of doing what you (absolutely) should do when making a character of any race other than your own, and doing the proper research, so I could avoid racist stereotypes, I was lazy and instead just winged my way through it. I see now that many qualities I’ve wrote into Zooey are stereotypical and racist towards the black community, I know that now and I’m sorry, and I will be much more aware and careful in the future. 
B: I’m not gonna do this again! I’m going to scrap Zooey’s entire backstory, do the required research and I’m not going to work on her until I am SURE that nothing I’m doing is bad. I care about this character so much, and I have put so much work and love into her over the years but the last thing I would ever want is to be hurting people with my portrayal of her. 

And please, please!! Do not be sending the OP of my callout post, or anyone involved, any sort of negativity. I’m honestly so glad this was brought to light, I now have the opportunity to be better, I was ignorant, I still am! But I’m going to do everything I can to keep from hurting anyone ever again

EDIT:I won’t draw Zooey anymore. I’ll probably just stick with default shep for any fan art I do in the future

as a lady possessed of Kinks Worth Shaming who ends up writing a lot of rough m/f sex, part of me feels guilty, like, does the world really need more rough m/f?? when there is so much goddamn porn out there treating it like the default instead of a kink???

but that porn is for men and it is so so hard to really explain how disheartening it is when porn gets separated into The Good Stuff For Sexy Ladies and The Bad Stuff For Bad Men and i just have to sift through the garbage trying to find something that’s sort of salvagable if i squint and ignore all the parts i hate

i’m not going to pretend like writing smut where a woman gets facefucked is ~empowering~ but it’s important to me that if she pushes him away he’ll stop and check in with her, and if she seems like she’s hurt he’ll stop regardless of if she safewords, and he asks what words he can use instead of assuming, and he asks before sex exactly what kind of sex she wants it to be, there are never any unpleasant surprises and it is always always always clear that he has huge amounts of affection and respect for her and would do anything she asked

none of which are things i get to see when the intended audience is a man who wants to abuse a woman and not Me, The Masochist Who Likes To Feel Loved But Has Weird Ideas About How To Go About It

honestly tho, all joking and (priceless) rupaul’s drag race reaction gifs aside, supergirl’s cast mocking the queer fandom just further proves that we need our OWN platform and our OWN talent writing our OWN shows and our OWN talent portraying the characters WE create.

because straight people will never fully get it no matter what the fuck we do, you can try explaining shit till you’re blue in the face, you can strip your skin off, you can nuke them and nothing will work because they are a largely privileged DEFAULT group in Their World and because of that, they are blind to those who are not. and honestly? ignorance is a fucking bliss and you know what? they are not dumb, they are fully aware of that and in this particular case and so many more they don’t get it because they don’t WANT to get it. they are happily living in their own world with thousands of tv shows and movies about the same tired ass het romance shoved down our throats that they excitedly eat up together with our dignity and shit it back out.

it’s not our world. it’s not. never will be. so fuck that world. create your own. our own. band together and make shit that’ll make them jealous, and trust me, it will, because there’s nothing privileged want more than to be oppressed for some goddamn reason.

also their world is boring as fuck seriously it’s same fucking constipated shit-acting faces on every goddamn channel why would we ever wanna be a part of that

vorpalgirl  asked:

Mod Jess said in the 1st chronological post in the "Dragon Lady" tag: "I think when it comes to Asian ladies, they immediately fall into the Dragon Lady stereotype whenever they get angry, no matter what kind of angry it is." Been pondering that, b/c everywhere else lists it as a specific set of traits derived from racist pulp fiction portrayals (not just "angry"), but that sounds more like "Asian equivalent of Angry Black Woman". Makes me wonder. What're your current thoughts/feelings on this?

Anger in the Dragon Lady vs. Angry Black Woman Stereotype

It’s tempting to make superficial comparisons like this, because hearing about specific emotions that fall into multiple stereotypes leads you to think that the root of stereotyping is tied to individual emotions and how they present. Stereotypes are, instead, meant to reinforce a behaviour or belief set about an ethnicity, and as a result cannot be compared on traits.

As a result, our thoughts are that you’re drawing a false comparison without understanding the history and beliefs behind the stereotypes.

Asian women are taken as submissive, and Dragon Ladies are understated, cool anger… when Angry Black Woman is the polar opposite of this, as being loud, brash, and bold. Whiteness views them as extremely different people, and uses the tools to reinforce completely different behaviour sets.

While some stereotypes do indeed share root similarities— Magical Negro and Magical Native American both fall under “x ethnicity has special powers inherent to being x ethnicity"— most do not. Making comparisons like this without understanding the behaviours that are being perpetuated leads to only revealing more ignorance, instead of making you sound educated.
Stereotypes do not come from “x people express emotions in y way”; stereotypes come from “x people should behave in y way, which influences all emotional expressions allowed and imagined.” Of course stereotypes are going to cover the same emotions, because people only have so many emotions. They just express them in different ways, and different people will have different default sets of behaviour.

What racist stereotypes do is limit the set of default behaviours allowed down to a single note. Angry East Asian women are Dragon Ladies because white people assume all Asian women are submissive and restrained in their behaviour, and that falls in line with the Dragon Lady stereotype— clinically calculated, refined, seductive, and deadly. Angry Black Women are their own stereotype because all Black women are loud and hot-tempered— motivated by exploding at the smallest provocation from a chip on their shoulder.

Most racist stereotypes are reinforcing different sets of behaviour, founded in totally different beliefs from centuries of white people creating certain images for certain ethnicities. Dragon Ladies have their roots in the “dangerous Asian who will seduce then kill you” stereotype, while Angry Black Women come from “slaves complain about everything” stereotype. The two do not mix.

You need to have a much deeper understanding of stereotypes before you go throw around comparisons such as this. It is hurtful to try and flatten individual ethnicities’ experiences with “both of these stereotypes impact the same emotion, therefore you’re similar, right?” It’s the same logic that drives “Japan and China are close enough I can blend the two cultures easily, right?” or “Native Americans are all the same, right?”. Just because we have some tenants of shared oppression and limitations in our expression does not mean our experiences are the same. Individual stereotypes should be taken as individual stereotypes until proven otherwise.

— WWC

i dont hold a grudge against my parents for the things they said about gay people when i was younger because they’ve both changed a lot and supported me immediately after i came out, but…… i really cant stress enough how deeply harmful it is for a gay child to grow up with parents who just assume their child is straight

it’s so so easy to see heterosexuality as the default and unwittingly disparage your children to their faces. it’s never YOUR kid that’s gay, it’s always your neighbor’s kid or your boss’ kid– when you’re ignorant and straight it’s easy to think that way. and i swear to god, my upbringing and my struggle to come to terms with being a lesbian could have been so much easier, soooo fucking different, if my parents had just every once in a while been aware enough to realize they might be talking to a gay child when they told me that: pretty gay women are a waste of beauty, gay relationships are something children shouldn’t be “exposed” to, gay people are “freaks,” and finally………… they’re glad their child isn’t gay because they wouldn’t want a loved one to have that burden.

and the thing is, overall, day-to-day, week-to-week my family was not overtly homophobic. those comments were spaced years apart, and usually gayness didn’t even come up in our household. but i fucking remember everything they said, every remark they made, because it made me panic and it made me deeply, deeply sad. i can forgive and move on from those moments, those pivotal moments when i was impressionable and vulnerable, but i can’t unhear anything that was said. and they can’t take any of it back. i have a great relationship with my parents now but that pain is still there, because that little 8 year old, 12 year old, 15 year old kid heard those things and absorbed them.

parents should always remember their kid is listening, and– SHOCK!– their kid isn’t necessarily straight!!!

Blackwashing/genderbending canon characters to be POC/women is basically like those 12 year olds making shitty recolor OCs, and frankly you’re treating representaion exactly like a shitty recolor if that’s how you go about representing.

You can’t just color over a white character to make a black character. You can’t just throw boobs on a male character to make a female character. All that says is you don’t see minorities as enough of ‘their own people’ to build from scratch, they’re just a fun feature you can customize your “default” white male with.

There are already some good POC and female characters in Marvel, shame on them for ignoring those characters and instead spraypainting over their white characters for some cheap pandering.

obviously there’s always going to be radicals in any group, including marginalized groups. ultimately i do think there’s some truth to the idea that being exposed to more lgbt people does actually make you question your sexuality more and i think it’s even fair to say that people who may have mostly comfortably identified as straight and cis for most of their lives often tend to reevaluate things at a younger age more intensively than they would have if they weren’t on tumblr…..truthfully that’s actually a good thing bc the end goal here is getting rid of cishet as the default

but it has the really unfortunate side effect of everyone just being able to say “oh well i AM one or two of the letters in LGBT so i don’t have to listen to other LGBT people who are telling me what i’m doing is wrong” while like…ignoring the fact that being a trans woman most definitely comes with a different and more intense level of personal oppression, or ignoring the fact that many many many gay and bi people suffer in ways that you might not have experienced…

like it’s not that you’re less important or “valid” to use a buzzword if you discovered you were pansexual bc you saw it defined on tumblr, but i still expect you to acknowledge that you can’t possibly speak for ALL of us, intricately understand all our individual plights, understand all our backgrounds and baggage and trauma….it doesn’t give you a license to speak over us just because we fit under the same acronym. we listen to each other. we support each other. you are not excused from homophobia and transphobia EVEN IF you’re also being affected by them, maybe even without knowing it.


i’m just like really really sick of “yeah but i’m a lesbian/gay/bi/trans” used as a disclaimer before ur about to say something homophobic or transphobic.

anonymous asked:

please write a fanfic for every day of clexaweek?

Clexa Week 2017 | day 3 | Stuck Together

“It’s over, Lexa.”

“No, Clarke wait– Clarke, no, please!”

Clarke goes in the bedroom and grabs a duffel bag. She starts throwing clothes inside, indifferent to whose they are, and zips it closed when she’s done. Lexa can only watch as the blonde steps into some shoes and prepares to head out.

“Clarke, please reconsider,” Lexa pleads. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Clarke whirls around at the words, her blue eyes working up a storm. “I’m being ridiculous?” She throws her hands in the air in anger and exasperation. “You’re the one that always comes home at ungodly hours, having been doing god knows what, and then when simply asked if they’re cheating, goes all ‘I won’t dignify that question with an answer’,” she mocks, doing a poor imitation of Lexa. “Well, dignify this,” she spits, practically shoving her middle finger in Lexa’s face.

The brunette responds with an eye roll. “Now you’re just being childish, Clarke.”

“Well guess what, Lexa, I’m not Bridget fucking Jones. I don’t say words like ‘sod’ or ‘arse’ or ‘spinster’, I don’t have a fucking diary, I don’t sing ‘All By Myself’ when I’m miserable, and I’m definitely not dating Colin fucking Firth!”

“You certainly cuss a lot, like her,” Lexa replies haughtily, ever the face of serenity.

Clark’s eyes narrow dangerously and pierce into her girlfriend’s. Lexa remains there, impassive and aloof, as the blonde slings the duffel over her shoulder.

“Fuck you, Lexa.”

Clarke storms out of the apartment, feet stomping for maximum effect, and slams the door open and shut. For the first time during one of their typically overly dramatic fights, Lexa is afraid.

So she runs to the door, opening it with difficulty (it’s decrepit, they don’t have money for another one, and she’s always having to tell Clarke that slamming it makes it hard to open the next time), and dashes for the elevator. Luckily, the door is just closing, so she thrusts a saving hand in and forces it to open, revealing a scowling Clarke inside.

“Clarke, please think this through,” she begs.

The blonde crosses her arms, unwilling to properly discuss the situation. “Just get out, Lexa.”

The brunette straightens, expressions closing, and raises her chin with disdain. “No.”

“Then let me get out.”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

Lexa shrugs. “Then I will just keep you company.” She steps inside at last, feet more hesitant than she lets show.

Clarke, still fuming, punches the button for the ground level and folds her arms again, averting her girlfriend’s gaze.

The door closes and the elevator jerks slightly up, the familiar screech of its hinges giving way to drowsy movement. The atmosphere is quiet, both just praying for the tense ride to be quickly over.

The universe is not on their side.

With a violent jerk downwards and upwards, the elevator comes to an abrupt stop and the lights go out.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, a bitter guffaw pierces the air.

“Of fucking course this piece of scrap would stop now,” Clarke snarls, her laughter long gone. “It’s been fucking rotten for years, but it had to stop now!” She delivers a clumsy kick to the metallic walls. “Of,” kick, “fucking,” kick, “course!”

Lexa scrambles to Clarke’s side, grabbing her by the waist from behind and pulling her away from the walls, intent on preventing anymore damage.

“Clarke,” she whispers into her girlfriend’s ear. “Calm down. This isn’t you.”

Clarke turns in her arms and pries away from her hold. “How would you know anymore? You’re never here.”

Lexa flinches at the venomous jab, arms loosing around Clarke and falling to her sides. She recedes to the opposite side of the elevator, feeling around for the corner, where she sits down, legs crossed.

Clarke does the same in the opposite corner, still grumbling to herself. “Can’t believe I’m stuck here with my arrogant ass of a girlfriend.”

Lexa hears her opening the duffel bag and sift through it, pulling out an item. Clarke lays the object down and takes out another one. Seconds later, Lexa hears the familiar sound of a match being lit, and a weak flame comes in contact with a wick. Light floods the elevator and suddenly the tiny space is just a bit more comfortable.

“Is that one of my candles?” Lexa notices with a raised eyebrow. Clarke grumbles something in response, but Lexa wants to hear the explanation. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Clarke huffs out her frustration. “I said, I wanted to take a piece of you with me. Happy?”

Lexa can’t help the smug smirk that pulls at her lips. “Very much so,” she whispers.

After a long moment, Clarke heaves a defeated sigh. “I love you, Lexa, but that will mean nothing if you’re cheating on me.”

Lexa presses her lips together and her jaw tightens. “You know that I am not.”

“Well then, couldn’t you have just said no?” Clarke exasperates again. “Did you have to be an arrogant ass about it?”

“I love you, Clarke!” Lexa finally snaps. “I love you with all that I have. The mere idea that you would think me unfaithful hurts more than you can imagine, and I could not even find it in myself to even come up with a way to respond.”

“But you did respond, just not to the point I raised!” Clarke retorts, blue eyes burning into Lexa’s green. “Instead, you tried to belittle my point while asserting your self-imposed moral superiority. You know I hate it when you get that ‘holier than thou’ attitude while ignoring whatever it was I mentioned, because that really is not you. I thought we were over that assertion that you ‘win’ by default just because I’m suddenly beneath you, simply for raising a point that you find unpleasant to discuss!“

Lexa swallows the lump in her throat. Clarke has a point, she realises, even if it still hurts that her girlfriend would ever question Lexa’s utmost devotion to Clarke and their relationship.

“I have been working overtime,” she explains after some seconds, when the silence has become unbearable. “At first it was just Janice who asked me to take her shift, because she was pregnant. Then more people started asking to cover for them, and next thing I knew, I was spending my whole days at the office.”

Clark’s eyes soften. “They’re taking advantage, Lexa,” she coos with a long-suffering look. “They’re taking advantage of your selflessness, because that’s what bad people do. They prey on the good people.”

“I know,” Lexa confesses in whispers, her gaze lowering to the ground. “But I can’t say no when people need me.”

Clarke scoots up to her and cradles her face in soft, loving hands. Thumbs brush tenderly over highset cheekbones. “I know you’re selfless and noble and all-around the best fucking person I know,” Clarke whispers affectionately. “But you have to say no. I know you want to help others, but you can’t forget that you have a life outside of work, at home. You have me, painting all day, making money from home, and counting the hours till you come back to me. I need you to come back to me, Lexa.” Her eyes lower to Lexa’s pouting lips, which she covers with her own for some blissful moments. “Lately I’ve been feeling like… Like I’m not worth your time anymore.”

Lexa’s eyes widen in shock and instant refutation. “You are worth my time, Clarke,” she assures earnestly. “Always. Nothing and no one is ever more worth my time than you.”

“Then show it,” the blonde pleads. “I need actions, not words. Telling me I’m worth your time means nothing if you keep spending all your nights away from me.”

Lexa nods in understanding. Lately she’s been so busy trying to take care of everyone, she forgot to take care of Clarke along the way.

“This will not continue,” she promises with a whisper. Words have always felt more true when kept a secret just between the two of them. “You are my priority. All I want is to see you happy and I am sorry that I was being the very obstacle to your happiness.”

“You’re never an obstacle to my happiness,” Clarke breathes, eyes shut, leaning her forehead against Lexa’s. “You’re my vehicle.” They stay like that for a few seconds, until Clarke’s eyes open with a chiding glimmer. “And I’m not asking you to let Janice down. Just… Say no to those who don’t really need your help. And when you have a hard time doing that, think of me. At home, naked, waiting for you,” she smirks. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“The simple pleasure of your company is worth my while.” Then she adds hurriedly, “But I don’t mind you naked.”

“Mmhmmm.” Clarke chuckles breathily, sending tingles down Lexa’s spine. “Thought so.” She closes her eyes again, breathing in the ever exhilarating presence of Lexa.

“We should go back.”

“We’re stuck, remember?”

“Right.” A pause. “We could–”

“No sex in the elevator, Lex.”

“Right.”

“We could watch something when we get back. We’d cuddle naked, except for my sexiest lingerie and your Mark Darcy’s reindeer jumper… Try not to make out while we watch your favourite movie.”

“It is yours, too,” Lexa reminds her, as always. Clarke finds comfort in the quirks, tics, and routines of their days.

“A nice movie night, followed by a lot of sex, and then a lot of sleeping… Sounds nice,” Clarke murmurs. “No more working on weekends if you can avoid it. And return every day at ten pm the latest.” Lexa nods her agreement; they don’t need pinkies or hands to broker this deal. “You should’ve told me sooner… I can’t believe we needed to be stuck in a fucking elevator to settle this stupid argument. This is a whole new level of extra,” Clarke chuckles.

Lexa hums in contentment. “We would have settled it with or without the elevator. We always do.”

“I’m sorry I flipped you off. And called you arrogant. And an ass. And you’re so much better than Colin Firth.” Clarke pecks Lexa’s lips once more, then brushes their noses together. “I love you, Lexa.”

The brunette can’t help the wide smile that takes over her features. “I love you too, Clarke.”

And with that, the elevator kicks smoothly back into motion.

I’m sure I’m not the first to say it but- being nice isn’t some default setting or state of being that some people have and others just don’t. being nice is a choice, and sometimes it’s hard work. everyone has mean thoughts and petty thoughts and times where they feel very far from “nice,” but what counts at the end of the day is how you treat the people around you on a regular and consistent basis. sure, we all have bad days where we don’t live up to what we wish we could. but if you’re getting up most morning and making the kind choices in your life, then you’re doing just fine. 
anyway, I just see so much doubt expressed on this site about like “I’m not really that nice,” and “people think I’m better than I am,” because you only choose to show the internet one side of yourself. but here’s the thing- no one feels that nice all the time. no one is just magically always happy, and cheerful, and in the mood to deal with people with a smile all the time. If there’s someone in your life who seems to be that, then they’re someone who is very, very good at making the kind choice. but even they aren’t always going to want to.
so, in short, thinking not so nice things is totally normal and okay. you can’t control the feelings of anger or annoyance or jealousy, etc. that you’ll experience in your life. but you can recognize them for what they are and then  control how you act. you can choose to be a nice person. 

White Women are not “Women”

There is no default “Woman.” There is no default female experience. Our experiences are shaped by many different factors: race, class, age, sexuality, religion, disability status, being cis or being trans, etc. 

Making the privileged group the default ignores the ways in which different groups of women can be affected by a singular issue. Framing issues around the privileged group oversimplifies complex problems and erases the experiences of the non-privileged, who are often more adversely affected. Intersectionality is the key to including all women in the fight for gender equality.

So don’t write “women” if you’re only going to mention how white women are affected. White women are just one group of women, not the default.

anonymous asked:

Stenbrough, so Georgie has a kind of hero worship for Stan and Bill + the rest of the losers think is adorable

- Stan? Stanley! Are you having fun?!
Georgie tugged at the sleeve of Stan’s sweater four times in a row. Stan Uris had been lost in a daydream. Standing somewhat far from the campfire; chewing on a marshmallow and staring at a tall tree, which the night breeze swayed gently.
He looked down at Georgie, and was surprised to notice that the little boy had a white fluffy blanket wrapped all over him, that was not there the last time Stan glanced at the Losers around the fire.
- You don’t look happy. - Georgie said, frowning.
- Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you, G. That is just his default setting. – Richie pointed out, raising his voice all the way from where he was sitting with Eddie. Stan ignored Richie, he didn’t take his eyes from Georgie and then pointed, saying:
- Do you see that over there? Swaying, perched on that branch. It’s an owl.
Once Georgie spotted it and nodded, Stan perfectly mimicked the bird’s sound while sitting down on the grass, making Georgie smile and giggle.
Stan then tickled Georgie, aiming to make him vulnerable, and then grab Georgie and sit him on his own lap. By the time that mission was accomplished, the white blanket laid abandoned on the grass.
Georgie sighed and sank his little fingers in Stan’s curly hair. Wrapped his fingertip in one of the curls, pulled it fondly then let go and did it all over again, to another curl.
This whole time, Georgie mindfully watched Stan’s face, studying the light in Stan’s eyes as they looked at each other.
- You should smile more. It makes your heart beat for longer. Means you will live until you’re 100! – Georgie informed Stan, his voice adjusting to as serious as a five-year-old can sound.
- H-Hey, how about you s-stop st-stealing my bro-brother from me; while sitting in the bah-backyard of m-my own house, huh? – Bill inquired, getting up from the tree trunk where he sat alone since Georgie went to check on Stan.
- Firefly! – Georgie unexpectedly shouted, excited, bolting out of Stan’s lap to go after it.
- Sorry, Bill. I don’t know why he said these things…
- You don’t know? - Bill took the last bite from his s’more after he sat down… - He asked if the blanket looked okay before he left me. – Bill recounted, laughing.
Together, Stan and Bill now looked at Richie and Eddie, realizing the two of them started playing Truth or Dare. Bill fidgeted for a split second, and without meaning to, he brushed his fingers on Stan’s. Stan reacted as if struck by lightning.
- Stan! Stan! Look at what I caught for you!
Georgie was coming back. Bill was looking at Stan, still trying to understand why Stan had shivered like that. Stan, acting as if nothing happened, rose his hands in Georgie’s direction. Georgie had trapped the firefly; Stan cupped both of Georgie’s precious hands so they both could observe it better, without the risk of the bug getting away.
Georgie was chuckling, feeling victorious, finally entertaining Stan at their Camping Sleepover.
- You should make a wish, Stan. It’s not a star, but since you are helping me with my 1000 pieces puzzle, you deserve one.
Bill, still looking at Stan, smiled at the blonde, his own eyes saying:
“See, this is why he’s obsessed with you now. Aside from all the previous reasons.”
Stan himself looked once from Georgie to Bill’s smile and back to the little boy. Pause. Once again he looked over at Bill Denbrough. Stan’s excitement with the firefly was gone.
He said: – I can’t ask for what I truly want yet, it’s too soon.
Both Georgie and Bill looked clearly confused after that enigmatic answer.
Too committed to his secret, Stan ignored this.
- I’ll give it to you, Georgie. Wish for something.
Stan let his arms down, leaning back and resting both hands on the grass. Without realizing that Georgie trusted his hold so much, he saw those little hands relax. Stan’s move had been enough to set the firefly free.
- No! Come back here. My wish! – Georgie chased the firefly, desperately pleading to the tiny creature: - I want Stan to stay until we are finished with the yard sale puzzle. The lion only has half his face! I want to get to the part where E.T. is posing! - Georgie ran in circles around the campfire; Eddie and Richie where nowhere to be found.
- Guess one of them dared the other to do something inside the house. – Bill said, eliminating the possibility of them being in the tent because there was no light coming from it.
Stan felt restless, even more so now that only Bill was near; Georgie was in his mini tent, the firefly probably went in there.
- I’m going to sleep. I’m not feeling too well.
Stan got up, cleaned one hand with the other, and headed to the third tent.
- I’ll go with you. – Stan hadn’t said anything exactly inviting, but all the boys had already decided that Richie and Eddie had tent #1, Georgie had #2; and #3 was for Bill and Stan. It would have made no sense for Bill to stay where he was.
Once in the tent, Stan and Bill laid side by side. Bill was creating patterns on the thick fabric above them; by turning the flashlight on and off quickly.
- Are you training Morse Code?
Stan’s question made Bill laugh even though he felt judged by his tone, Bill then placed the lantern in the space between them.
“Stan did not go home, Georgie.” “It’s alright, he probably just went to sleep.”
Bill heard Eddie’s voice. Kaspbrak was having a bit of trouble, now that he and Richie wanted to go to sleep; but Georgie was looking for Stan.
“Don’t go over there. Don’t leave your tent.” – Richie was laughing, ironically enjoying discouraging the little boy.
Bill tried not to move, he wanted Georgie to believe he had to go to sleep now.
But still, he was too intrigued not to whisper:
- T-Tell me ah-about your im-impossible wish.
- No, Bill.
- B-B-B-But, I’m curious.
- And I’m sleepy.
Considering his tone, Bill expected Stan to turn his back now. However, Stan turned to Bill; eyes closed, and like this Stan adjusted his pillow, ending the conversation.
Obeying an impulse, Bill reached for Stan’s curls, sinking his fingers in them, copying what he saw Georgie doing earlier.
- What are you doing? – Stan mumbled, half asleep.
- Don’t know. G-Georgie made it look lah-like f-fun and I w-wanted to try.
Stan did sound on defense with that question, but Bill could clearly sense the boy relaxing under his touch now.
- Stan, why aren’t you feeling well today? – Bill whispered.
Stan made a sound that told Bill there wouldn’t be an answer.
- Stan, answer me! – Bill couldn’t help but act on instinct, he let go of one of Stan’s curls, and with that same index finger, he poked Stan’s nose repeatedly. Stan, more alert now, wrinkled his nose, laughing ever so slightly.
- Go back to what you were doing and I’ll be fine. – Stan grabbed Bill’s fingers and delicately placed them back amidst his own hair.
Bill smiled watching Stan smile now. That sight made him happy, even if Stan didn’t open his eyes to look at him. He continued what he’d been doing.  Now Bill was starting to fall asleep too, he relaxed and searched for the best position that didn’t require letting go of Stan’s hair.
- You should smile more. – Bill whispered; repeating and emphasizing Georgie’s words.
But Stan was already definitely asleep now. Transported somewhere else, secretly dreaming of the older Denbrough