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#being shy
vala-dreams · 3 months
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Y'all ever realize that you're not actually shy and for some reason your whole life everyone called you shy and introverted and your mother berated and compared you to your father for it but you're???? not even shy????????
Like I talk so much to my two friends and I dump information about shit I like or know about to other people and I can refuse to take flyers from people handing them out on the street I literally talk so much,,,,,like I'm not shy why did everyone tell me I'm shy I feel like I would talk to so many more people if everyone hadn't told me I was introverted
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writersbeware · 4 months
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A Reason Why Some People are Bashful
            Socially awkward individuals might have grown up in a home in which they are mistreated. Perhaps they’ve been scolded for speaking in the presence of strangers or maybe their classmates teased them mercilessly. They believed that no one cared about them, no one ever asked what they felt about a given subject. When you’re never asked which flavor of ice cream you prefer or what cereal…
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st-hedge · 6 days
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I hadn’t drawn the house of hades boys in years! Curse me! This isn’t exactly a remake of an old painting but it’s in the vibe of how I used to draw them all the time. Poetic and stealing kisses
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inkalight · 2 months
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Izuku got quirked back into his middle school body and Katsuki is gonna keep him safe from the villains that quirked him (cause he lost ofa). Poor Izuku fell back into his anxious scrungly lil sad bean nature. Fortunately Kacchan will be there for him when he needs it.
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dwarvenchords · 3 months
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hearing from all of my friends that went to the williams launch yesterday that logan began like EVERY interaction with “hi im logan whats your name” and sticking his hand out to shake in addition to telling them “oh my god no it’s okay don’t be nervous” has me DEAD
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princessbrunette · 6 days
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⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
ik i said sarah isn’t my type but maybe in the context of like…. john b and sarah dating, appearing normal and regular to everyone around them but really they’re a pair of weird perverts, seeking out a sweet innocent girl for them to use like a little toy. they pick up a sweetheart working at the library, shy and lonely and decide she’s the one !! so they befriend her and start to bring her everywhere, getting her used to their copious amounts of affection that they play off as platonic… john b constantly putting an arm around your waist or stroking the back of your head which makes you nervously glance to sarah, not wanting to be disrespectful but she’s already gazing at you with that thinly veiled excitement and encouragement.
sarah is touchier than john b, knowing you’ll likely think nothing of it if it’s another girl. she doesn’t even know if you like girls like that, and you feel totally ashamed at the way your cunt clenches and gets all sticky when she jokingly grabs at your tits infront of everyone or smacks your ass, telling you to stop hiding that ‘pretty ass’ from her. you figure this is just how they are with their friends. open and affectionate— it’s only when the two invite you to a sleepover you suspect they might have been concocting something all along.
it gets onto the topic of sex, and you’re shameful to admit that you’ve never done anything like that before — coming from a very strict, perhaps religious family. sarah is still playing bestie-bestie with you, grabbing you to say “wait, hold on. you’re telling me you’ve never even made out with a guy? okay, you’re missing out. john b come here.” the two of them ushering you onto his lap. you feel nervous, like you’re being disrespectful once more and she simply reassures you, kissing your shoulder and telling you in your ear that it’s “—fine, babe. i’m right here so it’s not even weird.”
the night progresses, and doesn’t stop progressing until you’re totally nude, laying against sarah who encourages you as you take all of john b’s length, the man above you slowly grinding his cock inside you inch by inch as you wince, clenching hard around what he’s feeding you slowly. sarah is right there for you, starting off by simply holding your hand, sharing giggles with you. giggles that turn into kisses, that turn into her sucking on your tits and rubbing at your clit whilst her boyfriend fucks you.
john b is super sweet about it too as you can imagine. “hey, we’d never make you do anything you don’t wanna do. yeah?” brow all creased in genuine concern as he takes his turn to thumb at your clit. you’re split open around him, watery eyes glancing between the two to shake your head.
“feels really good.” you hiccup, and the couple share a chuckle together.
“thaaat, i figured. you’re like… incredibly wet. it’s amazing.”
so do we fw that or no .
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
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humbuns · 10 months
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found some old doodles i did when i started obm! and had to redraw them cause they were too cute to let go unseen
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strawberrybyers · 4 months
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being a slut and mentally ill means i’d do really well as a patient in arkham asylum
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ruporas · 7 months
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happiness today and tomorrow (ID in alt)
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justxangelxthings · 7 months
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Sorry I didn't reply to your message I was busy humping my pillow while scrolling your blog
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iszapizza · 7 months
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anakin and aayla childhood friends? Yes
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writergamermom · 2 years
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I am good at talking to people, to strangers, people in power, people who need help, the general public, I am really good at talking. Then I get to comic con. Artists, writers, celebs, even cosplayers can be so hard to talk to. I went to a panel with Mark Russell and Mike Allred about their new comic. It sounded really good and I wanted to buy it and get it signed. And yet when I get to their table I am freaking out. I have to go get my husband to help me.
One year I rounded the corner and my favorite artist was sitting there at the Boom table. He was not listed as a guest and I was not expecting him. I literally turned around and ran away! My husband had to chase me down and walk me back.
This year I saw a TikToc/YouTube person that I follow. He was just attending the con and cosplaying. It took me forever to process that yes that was really him. I didn’t stop and ask for his photo. I didn’t want to seem weird. And that is what comes down to. I am at a giant con that I am dropping a couple thousand dollars because I like the things these people are making. But if they find out I like what they do, I am weird and I should be ashamed.
Twice I shared a table with strangers, once getting food and once in a writing panel. I enjoyed talking to people, I say hello first, and don’t feel afraid. It is just with people that I like. How do I get over this?
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cordiallyfuturedwight · 2 months
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one turtleneck to rule them all for @cosmicdreamgrl
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thewhizzyhead · 6 months
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WAIT I WANNA BRING UP ANOTHER THING ABOUT HOW BULLYING IS ADDRESSED IN NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE. one thing I really liked about how Max is shown as a bully is his talk with Pete at the Pasqualli's parking lot. When Pete tries to stand up to Max, Max pushes him down and emphasizes that Pete isn't a loser because of his own qualities - rather, Pete is a loser because Max simply said so.
Of course we can attribute this to Max's god complex but I think that this point in particular is less than often really brought up in teen-centered media featuring bullying: that bullying exists not because of nerdy behavior or whatever the fuck, but because bullies will it into being. And to have a BULLY of all people say that out loud - to have the main villain point out the root of their behavior without showing any kind of shame whatsoever - showcases just how much of a menace Max is.
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innerslumber · 1 year
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So you're telling me these jokers MADE UP THEIR OWN CHARACTERS? 🤣🤣🤣
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Source: Entertainment Weekly (Ghosted)
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erwinsvow · 29 days
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“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”
“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”
“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.
“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”
“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”
“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.
“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”
“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 
there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.
“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.
“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.
“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.
“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.
“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.
“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”
“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.
“serious. i’d never lie to you.”
you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 
“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.
you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 
rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.
your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 
you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 
later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 
“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.
you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.
you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.
“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.
“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 
“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”
“i know. y’should stop that.”
“or you can stop first.”
“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”
“okay. i will.”
“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.
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