never too much


Stop Erasing Women of S.H.I.E.L.D. 2K16

The types as strangers I wish I had known

People are so beautiful in every way. I can’t help but love every single one of them. 

INTJ: She is a girl in one of my classes. I hardly ever talked to her, but she is an extremely interesting person. I can’t say what it is exactly, but she has this quiet self-confidence shining from within. It’s not this overbearing kind of confidence that some people rub into other people’s faces. Instead, she is confident in herself, in her own capabilities, and in the person that she is. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to look down on anyone. But despite this shining confidence, I noticed her insecurity and nervousness when she gave a presentation which happened to be about feminism and that made me like her even more. Yet these insecurities of other people’s judgements didn’t make her look fragile or vulnerable. Not at all. It was endearing in a way. Also, she is insanely beautiful and doesn’t seem to care about that at all. She’s like a quiet Arab princess that could totally kick your ass, both intellectually and physically. 

INTP: Over the last semesters, I attended some of the same classes as he did, but I’ve never talked to him. At the very beginning, I remember him sitting in the lecture halls watching animes on his laptop instead of paying attention. But over time, he became this nerd that raises his hand every few minutes to ask about something, starting with: “Concerning what you just said, I just thought about it and isn’t it possible that…” going into deep analyses. He drives some professors mad with his constant questioning of everything they say, but I also overheard some say that their seminars wouldn’t even work out without him. He’s also not afraid to burst out laughing in a quiet room or to tell a joke to a friend with shining eyes and such excitement (funny thing is, he is usually the one laughing harder about his own jokes than anyone else). He doesn’t seem to care at all what other people think of him, and that’s quite admirable. Generally, he’s like a Hermione Granger that isn’t driven at all, but rather studies just for his own entertainment. He’s probably one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.

ENTJ: I couldn’t figure him out. I don’t understand his reasons and it confuses me. He sat across from me on the train. And for twenty minutes, he sat there stiffly with his arms crossed and his head slightly tilted down. But whenever someone passed him, he closely watched them, followed them with his eyes without even raising his head. You could have mistaken his body language as submissive, but it really wasn’t. It was powerful. He was more of a rebel in disguise, waiting for his moment to shine while quietly judging people without being seen. But I don’t understand why anyone would cross their arms and bow their head like that on a normal train. People don’t do that. He must’ve had a reason. I spent way too much time already on finding that reason, but I’ll probably never know.

ENTP: I used to attend the same lecture he did and he was interesting from the minute he walked into the lecture hall. I usually sit in the last row where I can watch people without being seen like the creep that I am. He entered the lecture hall with this wild book-Harry-Potter-hair and with his hands on the straps of his backpack. He stood there for a bit gazing around, deciding where he should sit instead of just rushing in like everyone else. He had a constant grin on his face and laughing eyes even when he wasn’t laughing. There was always this little spark of amusement and quiet intelligence in his eyes. Sometimes he sat with friends. Then he would be the one joking around with this unusually expressive face of his. I don’t know, he just seemed like a genuinely nice guy with whom you could have the wildest and most interesting of conversations and always a good laugh.

INFJ: She is the girl in the mirror that doesn’t look like me. The image on the wall that is so familiar yet so strange, it knows about you. She knows who you are. She knows who you think you are, who you are trying to be, who you might be one day. She knows. She has always known. And that scares the hell out of you. She smiles at you, trying to ease the discomfort she’s causing you. She tries to make you laugh. She tries to make you smile, to make you happy. She tries to protect you. But who is she? Who is this strange girl in the mirror with the long wild hair and cheekbones as sharp as her tongue? What’s behind the smiling eyes, what’s going on inside this head of hers? Will I ever know?

INFP: We were on a ship, headed to a little island in the North Sea. He was travelling with his wife and his two daughters. His blonde hair was slowly turning grey and the smile wrinkles around his eyes were deep. In the two hours that I saw him, he hardly said a word, but he was always present. He paid attention to the harmless fights his teenage daughters had. He listened to his wife talking to some strangers about how great the holiday will be. And I’ve never seen a more endearing laughter than the quiet one that made his shoulders shake up and down while having his eyes closed, deepening the already deep wrinkles around his eyes. His laughter didn’t make a sound, but it was like the whole ship stopped and noticed his calm little joy. I’ve never looked into kinder eyes than his.

ENFJ: He is the greatest mystery of all. He is a walking contradiction. Both confident and shy, both intimidating and approachable, both extroverted and reserved. But how does that make sense? His eyes are like X-rays. He looks you in the eye and it’s like he can see right through every wall you ever built around yourself, like he has figured you out in a second, and he seems intrigued. When around other people, he is the one trying everything to keep the conversation going, trying to make the other smile, to make them laugh. He tends to be the centre of attention and he appears to like that, but only for a short while until he withdraws and stares intensely into space. He is the kind of guy that is liked by everyone and still is an enigma that no one really knows anything about. His presence is calm, like snow quieting down the world, and then he looks at you and you feel like you are the only person in the room. And if you look into his eyes, eyes that look so much older than the body they belong to, if you look past the kindness and self-doubt in them, you see a shy little muffin that just wants to love and be loved. We never spoke a word, but I love him more than I can say.

ENFP: We were on a ship, headed back from this holiday island that I love so much. I was travelling alone and the ship was overcrowded, so this woman asked if she and her daughter could sit at my table. Her daughter was about twelve, maybe thirteen years old and such a free spirit that it made me laugh inside because it kept annoying her mother so much. “Do you have your shirt on back to front?” “I don’t know.” “Yes, you do. You can’t walk around like that. Go and put it on properly.” “Why? I don’t care.” “But everyone’s staring at you! What will they think of us?” “No one’s looking, mum, because no one cares. I think I’m gonna go outside and look at the waves for a bit. See you later.” She then stood up and loped out of the room with her wildly swinging ponytail while I was left with her baffled mother.

ISTJ: I see her twice a week on the train early in the morning when she is probably on her way to work. She is always neatly dressed and her short hair looks on point every time. I’m not quite sure what it is about her that makes her so interesting. It’s her whole demeanor. How she walks upright with her head held high. How she looks at all kinds of people in an interested way. How she always keeps a straight face. She seems so pragmatic, down to earth, and smart. She kind of radiates a No-shit-Sherlock-vibe that makes her seem like a tough boss that is respected by everyone and that is, deep down, actually really good at heart.

ESTJ: She was a lioness. She was strong and she was kind. I left the bus at the same station as she and her disabled daughter did, and I walked behind them for a minute or two. And I saw nothing but love. They seemed very close and they were both laughing about something. Her daughter was all grown up and didn’t really need any help with anything, but her mother was always there, just in case. Not in a condescending way, not at all. It was more like her daughter was her world and everything she saw, everything she wanted to see. But at the same time, she respected her enough to suppress her motherly instincts and let her daughter go her own way. She decided to be on the sidelines of her daughter’s life and to be there for her when she needs her. And I think that’s beautiful. 

ISFJ: Every time I happened to see them, I’ve never seen them apart from each other. When I watch a couple interact, I can usually immediately tell how the relationship is going and if it is going to last. Often, I can say that two people may love each other, and that they might stay together for a few months or for a year or two, but in the end, they won’t work out. Then, occasionally, very rarely so, there are these two people and it’s so obvious that these two are good. That they found the one and that they are so perfect together that you just want to cry looking at them because they are so beautiful together. This is the kind of couple I’m talking about here. They are still very young, maybe twenty or twenty-one, I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter, that doesn’t mean anything. Even if they are just silently standing next to one another, they are like the same person in two bodies. They are inseparable. When they are on the bus and she’s looking out of the window with these curious, shining eyes while he is only looking at her and smiles, when they are standing at the train station and make each other laugh so hard that both of them have to lean onto each other, I see that their love for each other is so pure and infinite, that it’s unconditional and omnipresent. They look so genuinely happy just to be with the other that it makes me happier than anything else. 

ESFJ: Every other morning I see him drive his wife to the train station where he waits with her until the train arrives and she has to leave. They hold hands and laugh together about something while they wait. They try to spend every bit of the day possible with each other and they look so happy together. But then the train rolls in and she kisses him goodbye and she smiles at him and he smiles back. While I get on the train after his wife, I see him standing at the station until the train finally leaves. He waves at her one last time through the window until he turns and goes back to his car with a sad smile on his face. You know, I like to compare his love for his wife to a dog. Imagine a fluffy Golden Retriever that whimpers when he realises that you have to leave, and that jumps into your face out of joy as soon as you come back to him. That’s exactly what he is. He’s a Golden Retriever.

ISTP: I saw her on the train. She sat there all alone with a bottle of Vodka and a notebook peeking out from her backpack. She had wild curly hair, a nose ring and lots of freckles. During the twenty minutes she sat across from me, she was staring into space and was lost in thought. She was intense in every way. She was an incredibly strong lone wolf that reminded me so much of Sarah Manning, for those great people of you who have seen Orphan Black. I felt like, in a book, she’d be the underdog that needs to be reckoned with if you want to survive her once you angered her or laid hand on someone she cares about. 

ESTP: He sat across from me on the train. I didn’t dare to really observe him as he was so present and observing himself that I didn’t want to give the wrong impression and creep him out. Because his constantly smirking eyes were all over the place. He looked out of the window, he watched people in their seats, he looked at me, he looked at the floor, he pensively stared at nothing. I could see that he was lost in thought, yet he was never absent-minded, and that was confusing. Absent-minded people are easy to watch and to analyse, but not him. He was thinking, but he still noticed. He noticed every little thing that happened around him and it was fascinating and intimidating at the same time.

ISFP: I was on a long-distance train at night on the way home from Paris, and for most of the time, I only saw him as a reflection on the windows. He was travelling alone with nothing but a backpack, slouching in his seat and half asleep. I don’t know, he just seemed like this kind of lone wolf who goes where the wind blows and doesn’t care what other people think about him, if his beard is getting too long, if he is drooling in his sleep, if people judge him for being who he is. He did his own thing and lived the life he wanted to. I hope he does.

ESFP: It was 7:30am when I saw her crying on the train. She wasn’t a mess. She just sat there in the train packed full of people and cried shamelessly and with dignity. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so sad, and I wish there was anything I could have done, but she didn’t seem to need any comfort. She sat there and accepted the fact that the was crying in front of lots of strangers. She had tears streaming down her face, but she held her head up high and didn’t care. There was a quiet strength behind her eyes that I admired so much.

(I’m very sorry if you got the impression that I might live on a train. Feels like it sometimes, though.)


I think I went a little overboard putting male Robin in a yukata

But I got the idea from an otome game I play bc I was admiring the kitsune mask of my fave chara (who also has white hair lol) which was my main insp for this and I was like…you know who else has a purple/gold color scheme and also has white hair? ROBIN.

Bonus: Robin’s a youkai or is the vessel of a demon spirit (like Grima lol)

I am a romantic fool, no doubt about that. I can’t help myself but write those songs. I spend a bit of time sitting on the couch with an acoustic guitar — taking breaks, having a cigarette, going to the window then going back. When you do that, you end up doing a lot more of that romantic stuff, probably too much.
—  Alex Turner