March 24, 2017.
its been 4 days since im working on my economy notes and also reviewing some of the old uni tests and im kinda satisfied with how it looks omg i havent been sooo happy with my notes before😅😅 (i know its kinda bleeding but yeah its just a cheap brand of notebook sooo and its A4 which much bigger than i used to write my notes soo i kinda like it)

pens i used in this:
✏ Zebra Sarasa Pen 0.5mm in Black
✏ Zebra Mildliner in Mild Magenta, Mild Gold, Mild Smoke Blue, Mild Blue Green and Mild Blue
✏ Crayola Supertips in Turquoise, Sun Yellow and Light Peach
✏ Artline Stix in Apricot and Light Blue
✏ Snowman Brush Pen in Black
✏ Zig Kuretake Fudebiyori Brush Pen in Indigo
✏ Tombow Fudenosuke Hard Tip

alsooo ive been listening to Stay by Zedd ft. Alessia Cara this whole week omg that song sooo good😍😍😍

Okay so this is what went down With Ezra lol

Me: heyyyyy *probably with finger guns*
Him: heyyyyyy *smiles nicely at me and knowingly*
Me: what are you doing here?????
Him: just traveling getting some gas what are youuuuu doing???
Me: I’m going to the bathroom lol

he got three bags of cheetos American spirits two black and milds and tea wearing a protect trans kids shirt

Bless him 🙏🏼

Touched by an angel

The Blake Siblings Revisited

I noticed two things about the Blake Sibling relationship in 401 that made me happy: Octavia worried about her brother’s safety and Bellamy put some deliberate distance between them.  (This is inspired by some stuff @mego42 talks about here, so check that out too.)

Let’s take Octavia first.  I have given up hoping that the show will address how incredibly awful and inexcusable it was for her to physically abuse him (much like the massacre and Murphy/Ontari, the show clearly doesn’t know just how bad it actually was) so I’m gonna just…leave that aside.  If you can’t, that’s fair– that was a dealbreaker moment for a lot of people and I don’t begrudge you drawing a line in the sand.

However, since the show still wants us to root for these siblings to find their way back to each other, I think it’s worth exploring how 401 set the table for that.  It was clearly a place-setting episode, undoing a lot of the mess of s3 (praise jesus) and indicating what the writers want us to know about relationships and characters as we move forward.  And in 401, Octavia had essentially three modes:

1) Murder

2) Sassmaster Blake

3) Worried About Bellamy Despite Everything

The first has been obvious in all the promos– the show clearly loves a Lady With a Sword action sequence, and Octavia is perfect for that.  She’s deadly, she’s grieving, and Marie has the moves.  The second is another consistent trait, because “kind of bratty comment while everyone else deals with shit” is Quintessential Octavia.

“Worried about Bellamy Despite Everything” is also Quintessential Octavia, and the show made a point to emphasize that.  We see her reaction when the parley with Echo goes south, we see her worried expression when he’s dragged into the throne room, and I suspect her “don’t fuck this up” quip was also her very guarded way of telling Bellamy to take care of himself.  (The Blakes tend to communicate their love through black humor and mild jackassness, and I love that about them.) This is important, because it indicates that no matter how upset Octavia is, she cannot turn off the “loving her brother” part of her heart.  That is also a quality we see in Bellamy, since no matter what Octavia does, he makes it clear he loves her no matter what.

But in 401, Bellamy does not behave towards Octavia the way we’re used to.  We see him watching her right at the start, and Clarke immediately hones in on his concern.  (Sidenote: real talk I was so confused that Clarke thought Bellamy was worried Octavia would be tried for her crimes because the Arkadia storyline in s3 was such a broken down mess of authoritarianism and lawlessness that I honest to god straight up forgot they even had laws).  But Bellamy pretty much blows Clarke off and does not approach Octavia, despite his clear concern.  Throughout the episode he exists in the same sphere as her and interacts with her as necessary, but those interactions are generally limited to rebukes and silent looks.  He’s worried, but he’s not about to try and parent her right now– not when she’s like this.

I think the only other time we’ve really seen Bellamy even consider rejecting Octavia is in Day Trip, when he intends to run away and leave her behind.  It’s borne of desperation because he’s scared of being executed when the Ark comes down, but it’s also driven by the fact that Octavia is furious with him.  I bang the “the Blake Sibling Relationship Is Profoundly Fucked Up” drum a lot, but that’s because it is profoundly fucked up.  He’s basically her father, but he’s also her brother and we forget that Bellamy’s existence on the Ark was almost as lonely as Octavia’s.  In s1, nearly everyone has someone: Monty has Jasper, Raven has Abby, Clarke has Wells (and sometimes her mother), and Octavia has Bellamy.  But Bellamy only sometimes has Octavia.  

She loves him fiercely, but she’s constantly furious with him, and in 108 he decides to just…give up.  He had been doing everything to protect her– which is how Bellamy shows his love– and all it got him was her scorn, first with Atom and then with Lincoln.  (Note: Bellamy’s “protection” was basically “controlling her” and incredibly Not Okay, but I do think the show meant for us to see that it came from a place of genuine love.)

So Bellamy putting some space between himself and Octavia in 401 is, in my opinion, a good sign.  It means he’s drawing a line (I will love you but I will not let you treat me like this) that is important for both Octavia and for himself.  For Octavia, it’s a continuation of their parent-child relationship: he’s recognizing that she’s a grown up who is going to make her own mistakes, and he will love her from afar but he won’t fix them for her.  (In fact, he explicitly said as much in 316).  Octavia has been fighting for that right pretty much since they landed, and while they managed it in s2 and early s3, the clusterfuck of s3 saw him reverting to s1 Bellamy in a lot of ways and that included his behavior towards Octavia.

That space is equally important for Bellamy, however (if not more so).  Because this is Bellamy letting himself be her brother, not her father.  He is taking a step out of the dad role and letting them exist as just siblings.  I suspect that we’re going to see this progress as Octavia learns to see Bellamy as a brother, not an authority figure against whom she can rebel.  Octavia loves him, but her feelings have always been complicated by the role he had to fill on the Ark–part brother, part father, part jailer.  They need to start over, and by Bellamy stepping back (a move that is incredibly important to his mental health, I think) Octavia is going to be forced to do the heavy lifting this time.


*Notes - This was inspired by a scene from Orange Is The New Black (mild S5 spoiler after this!!!!!) where Soso is in the library and all the books have been taken and destroyed in the riot and she just breaks her heart because the library was Poussey’s place, the books were hers! It was so sad! (No more spoilers!!!!!)

So yeah, it broke my heart… So felt compelled to write this… Enjoy! I think? It’s far from perfect but it’ll do for now. May revisit and expand one day.


It had been six months since he left.

She had buried herself in her duties but never once did she take her ear off the ground hoping, praying, for news of her lover’s whereabouts. Leliana did all she could to satisfy her questions, follow her tenuous possible leads. However, she was growing weary as were the others.

Shouldn’t she be OK by now? Shouldn’t she just move on?

But no one understood what it was like for her to carry on without him… The few seconds on waking, sleepy and forgetful, reaching across the bed, seeking his warmth only for it to be met with empty space. The moments when she was engrossed in research, stumbling upon something she was unsure of and a flickering thought in her mind… I’ll go and ask him, he’ll know what it means… The times when something good happened, a victory, and her first thought was to seek him out and share her joy with him.

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fashionlive15  asked:

Hi how are you?? , I wanted to request a sirius imagine where is best friends with the reader and start dating but he hurts her and she after feeling awful start haging with lucios and his gang , and then sirius goes crazy for jealousy and because his worry about her and them changing her

@fashionlive15 I am very well thank you very much! <3

I love your request and sorry it took me pretty long to answer! Please leave feedback because it helps me improve my work :)


  Fay <3


Pairing: young!sirius black x reader

Requested: obv

Warnings: mild swearing

Word count: 1892

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Stood on and ignored by the guy I love...

On my last post, I spoke about a guy at work that I am SO into.  Since then, we’ve cruised around in my car.  One night he asked if I had any fetishes.  By this time, I was comfortable enough with him so I told him I would love it if he would stand on me so I could look up and see his smiling face and have his full weight on me.  

He didn’t seemed freaked out by it, but we left it at that.  

Couple of weeks later I picked him up from work.  We drove around for a while, listened to music, and pulled into a gas station.  He was thirsty.  I pulled around back next to a car wash that is no longer in operation.  There is a small elevated sidewalk next to this car wash, and a concrete thing about two feet high where a vacuum cleaner used to be.  We’ve been there often as it’s very close to work.  We’d go there on breaks to smoke cigars, or vape (he vapes, I don’t).  

I didn’t need to, but I gave him a couple bucks to get a fountain drink.  I parked my car along the old car wash/sidewalk as always.  My back was hurting, so I got out and laid down on my back on that sidewalk thing.  I had my arms behind my head and my knees raised.  It was close to  midnight, so it was dark out and the sky was pretty.

Next thing I know, he comes walking around the front of my car, steps up on the sidewalk and then steps up onto ME.  He’s facing the old car wash, so while standing on me, he turns around, stands on my chest, puts his drink on the thing where the vacuum cleaner used to be, and leans his back up against the old car wash building.  I saw him pull his vape thing out of his pocket, then his cell phone.  His face was lit up by the light from his phone.  So I said “Oh really?”

He never even looked down at me.  He put his right foot on my face, right on top of my face, with at least half his weight.  He was wearing some grey and white low cut Pumas, which is what he wears at work.  

IT HURT LIKE FUCKING CRAZY.  The back of my head, just like the rest of me, was on concrete.  My nose was twisted to side, I’m hoping it wasn’t going to break.  My lips were twisted and cutting into my teeth.

Every 30 seconds or so, he would lean over to grab his drink, and I know I squealed in pain as more weight was being put on my face, not to mention the back of my head being pressed into the concrete.  He never said anything or even looked at me.  Just kept looking at his phone and vaping. 

The first time he said anything was about 10 minutes into this.  He took his right foot and turned my head so now I was looking at the back of the gas station and just placed his foot on the left side of my face, pressing the right side into the concrete.  All he said was “that’s better.”   Better for him, of course.  Not better for me, but I’m doing my job.  

He continues on his phone, I assume.  I can’t really see him at this point.  A few minutes later, I hear a motorcycle pull behind my car.  Turns out it’s his brother.  My friend is 19 and his brother is two years older.  He walks over and said something like are you serious, while he laughed.  

My friend told his brother to join him on.  They talked about it for a minute but his brother wasn’t convinced.  So my friend stepped off of me, opened my passenger’s side car door, reached in and grabbed one of MY black and milds and my lighter and shut the door.  Stood back up on me again and told his brother the only way he could smoke part of it was to stand on me.  

“Okay” he said.  So to make room, my friend kept his right foot on my head, and then put his left foot about an inch from my throat.  His brother stood on me, right foot on my chest, left on my stomach.  He was wearing DC’s.

They unwrapped the cigar and threw the wrapper down at me.  They took turns smoking the cigar, flicked ashes on me, talked about his brother’s girlfriend and some mods he wants to do to his bike.  Never mentioned me once.

I was hurting SO bad, especially from the concrete ripping my cheek and ear.

After about 15 minutes, his brother says he’s going home.  They turn towards each other and do a bro hug, while still standing on me.  Then I hear his brother say “okay” and he wipes his sneakers on me like a doormat.  I didn’t hear my friend say for him to do that, but I couldn’t hear everything.  Then he steps off and gets on his bike and leaves.  

My friend then steps off of my throat and face onto my chest.  He wipes his shoes on me, then steps off and opens the passengers door to my car.  He actually looks at me and says “come on, let’s go”.  I didn’t get up right away because I was hurting and my head was on fire.  He steps back over to me, puts his right foot on my mouth, so I stick my tongue out (as I’ve been trained to do with other Sirs) to lick his sneaker sole, and he said NO!  Get in the car and drive me home.  

As I was driving him home, he sat sideways in his eat.  He put his left foot on the right side of my head while I was driving, and his right in my lap.  He was on his phone, texting or whatever.  

I got to his driveway.  He took his feet of of me and when he opened the door the dome lights came on and he saw the blood on the right side of my face from the abrasions from the concrete.  He sat on his side in the seat and showed me both sneaker soles.  “Is there blood on my shoes?!!!” he asked.  Yes sir.  He told me to stick out my tongue and he just alternated from right shoe to left shoe, heel to toe, wiping them VERY aggressively.  

Oddly enough, when he got out of my car, before he shut the door, he said I love you.  

I love you too, I said.  And I do.  

Status Update

Uh, what’s on my mind?  Fuckin Facebook… uh, let’s see …

Went to a bookstore today.  Sometimes pieces of my old life float to the surface.  I get seized by it, weird, irrational thoughts like I could use a new book or It’s been awhile since I checked out that bookstore.  The urge happens almost too quick for me to realize it, and before I know, I’m walking through the door into the cool air of the bookstore.  New releases are propped up invitingly on small stands.  Beyond, another room is crammed full of books on shelves, spines out, words clamoring to be heard.

I still have a list of books I haven’t read that I want to on my iPhone.  I wander around the stacks, idly flicking through my list.  There’s less now than there was before, and it isn’t because I was able to check them off - it’s because one day, I was looking at my lists and I just suddenly got so pissed off, totally shaking with rage, and swiped angrily to the left - delete function - on entry after entry.  I was left with the few still there, and even just glancing at those caused my body to knot up tight like a fist.  I put my phone back in the pocket of my gym shorts and stretched out my arm.  It had been back and biceps day at the gym, and I could feel the soreness starting to creep into my muscles.  The muscles that were prominently on display - well, OK, my triceps, those are really starting to pop - because I’m wearing a tank top.  That’s all I wear out in public now - tank tops and gym shorts.  Today, flat-soled Vans and Nike ankle socks.  A baseball cap turned backwards.  My glasses, in the searing sun, have turned to shades, at least, partially. 

What am I doing?  I thought.  I don’t look like I belong here.  The people who run this place, those fucking twig-like hipsters behind the counter in their floodwater khakis and their saddle shoes, their fucking immaculately trimmed beards and ostentatiously simple black-framed glasses.  Their mild confusion at my presence.  I’m guessing.  I’ve only picked up one or two books the whole time I’m here.  I’ve looked at my phone more, which keeps binging loudly in the quiet store.  I’m sure heads turn, disapproval is broadcasted.  Look at the dumb jock answering his phone in the bookstore.  Like someone talking too loudly in a movie.  If it rings, I decide instantly, I’m going to –

It rings.  I swipe right to answer.  I am about to say “Hello?”  or  “Hey,” like I normally do, but suddenly I make a different choice.  It’s my friend, and we’re supposed to meet up for dinner – for some chow – later, like, not too later, just in like an hour or so, “What’s UP bro?”  comes out of my mouth, almost like a horse’s bray, and this time I can just see the looks on the hipster’s faces, on the nice-looking girl in the summer skirt idly leafing through a book of short stories.  Irritation, disapproval, all invisibly pointed at me. 

But here’s the thing.  It felt amazing.  It felt like the biggest rush in the world, like taking a rollercoaster straight down and around the fuckin loop at 100 miles an hour bro.  And when he answered, maybe he was a little unsure because of how I’d answered the phone - I mean, that’s not me, right? 

I was out in the sun again before I knew it, glasses turning back into shades.  I spend a lot more time out in the sun these days.  The bell on the bookstore’s door jingled loudly, as if trying to match my volume.  And here’s the other thing - since I had so abruptly ratcheted the volume of my voice up to 11, the knob broke off, or at least, it felt like that, and I just couldn’t keep from talking as loudly as I had when I answered the call.  The whole way down the street, phone tilted to my ear, talking as loudly as possible, heart hammering, everyone in shouting distance able to hear me. 

Fuck.  When did I turn into such a d-bag?  I used to go in that bookstore all the time bro.  I used to, I used to sometimes compulsively buy a book even though I didn’t know who the author was or anything about it.  I used to spend hours in there, just paging through the books.  It seemed like a movie I saw once about someone who spent a lot of time in a bookstore, just paging through the books, but it couldn’t have been a movie I saw.  How boring would that movie be?  Unless someone robbed the bookstore and there was some real, y’know, action, or something to it. 

The sun was making me dizzy, which wasn’t the first time that day.  It’s been kind of hot out lately, but every moment I don’t spend out in the sun is a moment I feel kinda bad on the inside, like I should be outside as much as possible.  I should be showing as much skin as possible.  I need to be as tan as possible.  It makes the muscles pop more.  And that’s what matters, muscles and protein.  Man, I’m gonna eat a huge fuckin steak tonight at dinner.  My bro won’t like it much, he’ll probably sniff and say somethin about how the cow died inhumanely, or whatever.  I actually, secretly?  Have never really cared about that, not really.  I just need the protein.  I may have agreed once or twice, but I was just playin along, because I didn’t want the fuckin lecture.  And I’ll keep the shit about going into the bookstore to myself.  Nobody saw me do it, I’m sure, and I don’t want anyone knowin I went in there.  It was a dumb choice, why would I spend money on books that could be going to food, or supps, or more gear for working out?  I seem to always need new gear for working out, I mean, I only wear sleeveless shirts to the gym now - why wear sleeves?  How will I see where my muscles are growing?  That seems obvious to me.

So it’s kinda funny when my bro at dinner is all quiet and weird.  I know he’s gay and I know he’s got a crush on me.  Fuck, I got a crush on me.  It’s not gay, it’s just called ‘mirin.  Hard to look away from myself when I’m flexing in the mirror, stare right into my own eyes, dare me to flex even harder, really show off my fuckin biceps, flex my traps, my lats.  I think I’m gonna start paring down my collection of books, too.  I don’t have room in my room for the shelf, anyway, and it’s the perfect lighting to put a full-length mirror in.  Oh, wait, I just did that.  I forgot.  Two days ago.  I remember standin in front of it just last night.  Right?  That’s right.  I open up my phone and flick through to Photos and yeah, there’s a bunch of me posing.  Posin in different gear too.  But I’m not the one holding the camera.  My bro is. 

“So, do you remember any of last night?”

Shit.  I think I kinda do.  It’s fuzzy.  Like … “Was I drunk?”

“Naw, you haven’t had a drink in weeks, bro.”

He says bro funny.  I feel a weird vertigo, like my chair is slowly tipping backwards.  I flick through my Photos.  I’m posin a lot.  In different gear.  Shit, that’s a fucking singlet, I didn’t know I had a fucking singlet.  Something looks weird with my eyes.  Like I’m sleepwalking.  And there’s my bro, my big bro, in every shot, holding my phone, staring right at me, staring right at me even now, at dinner, over the table.  “Yeah,” I say, uncertainly.  What’s happening?  I’m falling, but I’m sitting straight up.  The back of my head feels heavy, like someone is pressing on it.  My brain feels squished, like when you screw your eyes shut really hard.

“You just been making different choices, Brendan.  How’s that working out for you, bro?  You’re healthier, now, aren’t you?  Fitter.  Happier.  More muscular.  Hotter.”  He licks his lips and smiles.  “Isn’t that what you want?”  He pauses.  Takes a sip of water.  I’m silent, because no words are coming to mind.  I wait for him to continue.  His words have a weight to them.  They are each like depth charges, exploding in my head.  “Tell me what you want, more than anything in the world, Brendan.”

I do the only thing I know how to do.  I lift my arms and I flex, and I grin, because fuck it, flexing feels fucking amazing, and my bro is laughing, and he’s lifting his phone, and he’s snapping a picture.  “This one’s goin on fuckin Facebook.  Ah, shit, this is the best thing ever.  Aren’t you glad you went to that hypnotist with us, Brendan?”

“What hypnotist?”

“It’s OK,” my bro says.  Soothingly.  It does calm me down.  I was gettin kinda riled up there.  “Don’t think about it too hard.”  He laughs.  “Well, harder than you can, anymore, anyway.”

Okay.  That sounds about right.  “Okay,” I say.  The protein has arrived, anyway, a huge steaming bowl of rice and chicken and veggies, and my mouth is watering so much that I think I must be drooling, but fuck it.  I wish I didn’t even have to use a fork, I wanna just shovel it into my face with my hands…

“And after we’re done here,” my bro is saying.  Was he talking the whole time?  I couldn’t remember the words he’d said, but I remember the sound of his voice.  I look at him again.  He is kinda nerdy.  Not real hipster, not really.  Glasses, the haircut.  He’s smart, too.  He’s really the only smart dude I hang around, because most guys I don’t get when they talk smart like my bro, but you gotta have at least one smart guy around when you need to make choices.  I usually make the right ones, anyway, I mean, c’mon, how hard is it.  Muscles, protein.  Maybe an action movie in there somewhere, or a trip to the beach, or rock climbing, or tossing the football around in the park. 

Hey, those all sound like awesome ideas. 

“Bro?  You in there?”  My bro is snapping his fingers in front of my face and laughing.  “Damn, you’re slow.”

“Sorry, bro,” I say, through a mouthful of rice and chicken I didn’t even know I was eating.  “What were you saying?”

“After we’re done here, I’m coming over to your apartment.  I’ve seen what it looks like, and you need some help dumbing it down.  I’ve got some ideas for you.  And there’s a lot of clothes you can get rid of and make space in your dresser for more gear.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yeah,” I say, because whatever he’s saying, it’s cool with me, he’s my bro.  I just gotta get this fuel in me, because my body is fuckin hungry as shit. 

“And I might let you suck my cock,” my bro says, waggling his eyebrow at me.  “No homo.”

“No homo,” I repeat, still mowing down on my chow.  Fuck, this rice and chicken and veg is awesome.  I could eat this forever.  Every day.  Well, that and my protein shakes.  “Sure, bro.”

He leans back, grinning.  “Fuck.  You’re perfect.  Never change, bro.”

And I grin, and I flex again, and he checks his phone.  Probly checking up on my Facebook.  I let him have the password, because fuck that, all that shit is too complicated.  It’s better to have my bro make those choices for me.  I trust him.  He’s never let me down.  And he won’t.  He knows who I am, who I really am, who I’ve always been, and who I’ll always be.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me. He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

He looks at me over the table and grins, and presses a button on his phone, and I hear the sound of a post being made.  “Go ahead,” he motions, and I pull out my phone.  There’s the picture of me, flexing in the restaurant, shit-eating grin on my face, hat backwards.  Already the Likes are coming in, and some comments, and I’d look at them, but I don’t care that much about that shit anymore.

“Cool, bro,” I say, and dive back into my food.  I even eat what my bro doesn’t finish, and after we leave the restaurant, I’m confused a little, mostly full, feeling kinda dopey.  I almost wander into traffic once … or maybe twice, that was kind of embarrassing, but my bro was right there to stop me from walkin into the road.  Haha.  I’m funny when I’m full, I just wanna lay down and gobble on my bro’s knob.  He lets me do that.  He calls me a dumbass knob-gobbler, and I’m kinda okay with that.  My bro can do whatever he wants, because he knows best.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me.  He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

Orange is the New Black: Maritza Ramos [ESFJ]

(Mild spoilers for season 5)

UNOFFICIAL TYPING BY: howtotallyamazing

Extroverted Feeling (Fe): Prior to her incarceration at Litchfield, Maritza was quite adept at scamming people because she knew how to charm and read them. Sociable and outgoing, Maritza knows how to handle herself within different social situations whether it be the fellow Latina inmates or having to deal with the sexual harassment of the guards when she becomes the new driver of the prison van. While Maritza claims to be emotionless (“If I hadn’t buried my feelings so deep that they only come up when I watch Stepmom, I’d totally be tearing up right now.”), she has moments where she needs to be validated by someone - whether it be Flaca or their youtube followers when they start documenting their life during the Litchfield prison riot. 

Introverted Sensing (Si): Maritza knows how to exploit social norms and often used her femininity and the fact that people underestimated her because of her looks in her scams. She knows how to put on a persona and act like a ditz in order to gain the upper hand. She’s reluctant to accept Daya was one of the fellow inmates of Spanish Harlem when she first comes to Litchfield due to her jealousy as well as Daya not knowing Spanish.

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): While a savvy con artist, Maritza does eventually get in over her head when she’s trying to mastermind a situation in order to steal a car because she doesn’t think of other factors at play. She underestimates how sadistic Humphrey really is and doesn’t anticipate him overhearing her and Flaca’s game of “Would you rather?” to escalate the way it did. During the ruckus of season five’s prison riot, she and Flaca exploit the chaos in order to have a taste of normalcy by seizing phones, checking out youtube, and building their own channel that they use to video their exploits and prison make up tutorials. When the riot is dwindling down, Maritza laments how she almost wish they didn’t have a taste of normalcy because it was easier when they didn’t realize what was outside of the prison walls.

Introverted Thinking (Ti):  Maritza can be petty and doesn’t think objectively all of the time but has her moments - she deliberately pushes an armed Humphrey in the riot in order to disarm him, giving Daya the gun. Her remarks towards others can be cutting, sarcastic, and dry - like when she puts the guards in their place. (“You know what gets me so hot? Is when guys compare me to breakfast, and when they talk about me like I’m not even here. How about you call me “that oatmeal in the front seat” and I’ll be so yours?“)