#;insecurities

[hoaxghost]

Girl failed the med school exam like 8 times I dont think she'd do all too well when faced with the burnt crisp of her captain

[introvert-slushie]

Currently thinking about how much Ford tries to hide his hands a lot when he can…behind his back with this stance. Due to how often he’s been bullied for it.

And also, how Mabel is one of the ones who Ford feels happy about showing his hands to because she thought they were cool looking upon first shaking his hand, instead of him being judged for his six fingers.

[ID: Gravity Falls screenshots. The first three are of Ford with his hands crossed behind his back. The last two are of him shaking hands with Mabel, and letting her paint a turkey on his hand. He's smiling in both. End ID.]

[markwateneymemorialcrater]

Please note. The orange one is not included because A. He isn’t a billionaire. And B. Calling him obnoxious is too kind for him.

[envelopandkissme]

this fucks

[mr-malumm]

Stayed gone but vox narrates his passive aggressive insecure ass scrolling text from the bottom of his broadcast 👊💥📺

[black-quadrant]

y’all remind yourselves your account is your space. you’re not a performance. you’re not annoying by being yourself. if people aren’t into it they can leave. you’re not obligated to please anyone, especially at the cost of your personal expression. the worst thing you can do for your online enjoyment is to filter or censor yourself.

[mythsofher]

these two statements back to back make me laugh every single time i watch it. what an apt description

[just-a-blog-for-polls]

Edit: sensory issues can be counted under "otherwise medically unable to" if you feel that to be appropriate

[theshadowrealmitself]

I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them

People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human

“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”

“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”

“Yeah!!”

“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”

“Mostly just my dish but yeah >:(“

“How illogical”

“That’s what I’m saying!!!”

[lordandladywhistledown]

You can tell by the reaction people have to Penelope asking Colin to kiss her whether they ever experienced being a wallflower/insecure fat girl at a party or not.

Because you say it's pathetic, I say it's relatable, no matter how desperate it may sound. If you've never had your insecurity eat you up from the inside (but also the outside, as Portia literally told Penelope that she was delusional for thinking she was gonna find a husband in her third season out) to the point you genuinely, wholeheartedly believe no one will ever love you unless you physically change, then obviously the scene is off to you.

But Pen literally told Colin she felt stupid for thinking she's gonna find a husband (she just started believing what the ton and her mother said) and that she knows no one would want to kiss her. And for a romance girl like her, do you think the thought of never having a kiss, never experiencing that passion, would be easy to bear? I can so relate to being the most romantic of the bunch but also being the loneliest and aching for physical and emotional romantic love.

She is so vulnerable and so real in that moment but y'all gotta bitch about it because it doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't make sense to me either because she's gorgeous, but that's the thing - no one ever told her she's gorgeous and actually meant it. And even if they did, there must be 10 more people who didn't that keep that insecurity in her, specifically her sisters and her mother.

Nicola said this one was for the wallflowers, and it truly is, so if you find scenes like this cringe, you just don't relate to the character enough to feel it and recall moments when you had the same thoughts as her.

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[heytherecentaurs]

Brennan’s talked before about how as a poor young adult he lived in New York and struggled with food security. He tells a story of going to frozen yogurt places for free samples and a cheap dumpling spot because it was a lot of food.

His opinions on food and his described behaviours around food make a lot of sense in that context. He may be successful now and can be assured he can eat again when he’s hungry, but it appears he has legitimate trauma around his experiences with poverty because what he’s humorously describing is a trauma response. His mind hasn’t gotten rid of the anxiety of “I’m eating now so I better make it count because I don’t know when I will again.”

Because he’s a comedian he manages to frame it as a joke, but there’s certainly an underlying sadness. It also informs Evan Kelmp’s characterization. Capitalism is the root issue here and poverty is state-sanctioned economic abuse.

Anyway, I hope he’s doing well and taking care of himself.

[spac3y-d0g]

shoutout if you hyperfixate

Shoutout if you say sorry to everything

shoutout if you have trouble speaking for yourself

shoutout if you overthink

shoutout if you snap for no reason

shoutout if you use neopronouns

shoutout if you don’t use pronouns

shoutout if youre part of the lgbtqai+

shoutout if youre trying your best

shoutout if you can’t handle every day life

shoutout if you don’t fit in your body/species

shoutout if you made it through yesterday <3

Adding more because it made me so happy to read through the comments and reblogs :3

shoutout if you’re 1 minute clean

shoutout if you successfully made it out of a abusive household/relationship

shoutout if you’re stuck in a abusive household/relationship

shoutout if you can’t communicate your needs

shoutout if you can’t love anybody in a romantic way

shoutout if you don’t know your gender/sexuality

shoutout if people don’t understand how your brain works

shoutout if you’re disabled

shoutout if you’re a person of color

shoutout if you don’t fit into stereotypes

shoutout if you do fit into stereotypes

shoutout if you love to fast

shoutout if you made it out of bed this morning

shoutout if you ate some food today

shoutout if youre hydrated right now

shoutout if youre trying your best to take care of your self <3

Whelp gotta edit this again bc of how many hate I'm getting with my "your" and not "you're" (dw I've deleted most of them) :(

[canisalbus]

✦ Come hell or high water ✦

[palatinewolfsblog]

"Being rude is easy. It does not take any effort and is a sign of weakness and insecurity. Kindness shows great self-discipline and strong self-esteem. Being kind is not always easy when dealing with rude people. Kindness is a sign of a person who has done a lot of personal work and has come to a great self-understanding and wisdom. Choose to be kind over being right, and you’ll be right every time because kindness is a sign of strength." U.N. Owen.

[autoboros]

Even more inspiration has hit me. Mimic octopus who mirrors people they like