#this is not being introverted

[alixisherebutringagain]

I feel so much emotions sometimes, I wonder if people within the schizo-spec relate to it.

Like it's. Huge.

The biggest emotions, moving, crashing down on me, but they have no name. I can't know, for the love of God, what they are. They're just here and crushing me and overwhelming me. Making me paralysed and stuck and wrong.

And some other times, generally when I'm supposed to feel joy, pure joy, content, happiness, euphoria, whatever you wanna call it, I feel nothing and really want to be alone at home rather than surrounded by those people, even if i know them.

I'm realising that often, I fake happiness because I'm supposed to be happy, but really, i feel neutral or even annoyed.

For example, I was at my first ever pride. It was big, colourful, loud, people smiling and laughing and dancing and singing, my friends deeply enjoying themselves...

But honestly. I would have rather been home, doing my usual stuff.

I love my friends, I love my job, I love my coworkers, I even love people, but I like being alone better. I like being in my own little calm corner. Or not calm. But my corner.

Sorry for the rant. DAE within schizo-spec relate ?

[lazylittledragon]

the only thing scarier than vampire lords/mind flayers/death cults is meeting the in-laws

[homkamiro]

*heavys voice* entire team is BABIES!!!!!

[inkskinned]

he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

[tofixtheshadows]

So I've been thinking lately about how Mithrun is Kabru's dark mirror (more on that another time- it needs its own post), and I thought it interesting that one of their parallels is that they were both cared for by Milsiril, but in opposite directions. She took Kabru in as her foster after he was orphaned and tried to convince him not to become an adventurer. On the flip side, she helped rehabilitate Mithrun specifically so that he could rejoin the Canaries.

And I kept wondering: why?

For Kabru, obviously she loves him a whole lot- despite any other shortcomings in their relationship, I do believe that.

So I get why she tries to convince him not to go dungeoning, and, failing that, at least prepares him as thoroughly as she can.

But why help Mithrun? She used to hate Mithrun, but after realizing what a secretly twisted person he was, she actually thought of him more positively (oh, Milsiril). So it wasn't as if she held the kind of grudge that might motivate her to make his already-depleted life even more miserable by sending him back to the dungeons. And it wasn't that she felt bad for him either, since she didn't visit Mithrun for the first ~20 years of his recovery.

The Adventurer's Bible says that Utaya was the impetus for Mithrun returning to the Canaries, but Milsiril is the one who made the trip to see him and tell him about it.

Why would Milsiril work so hard to get her old coworker back into fighting fit? Why encourage him to return to such a dangerous lifestyle, when she was the one who chose not to mercy-kill him?

That last panel is such a crazy thing to hint at and then never elaborate on. Without it we could have just thought that Milsiril wanted the Canaries' work to continue without her, even if it seemed out of character. I think some people even assume she's just a natural caretaker as a foster mom and handwave it to include nursing Mithrun too. What could Milsiril's suspicious motives be? What does she gain from Mithrun joining the Canaries that isn't an altruistic desire to see dungeons safely sealed? Feeling a sense of responsibility for the work she left behind isn't an ulterior motive.

My theory is: Milsiril, knowing that Mithrun was empty save for the burning desire to face the demon again, wound him up like a clockwork doll and pointed him back at the dungeons.

Hoping that he'd eliminate the biggest threat to Kabru's life, before it was too late for him.

Milsiril the puppetmaster.

[ssavaart]

Ever since my videos on Youtube and TikTok started getting popular, people would recognize me out in the wild and then realize that I am SO AWKWARD in person.

I LOVE meeting people... but I never know what to say and I always feel like I've disappointed them afterwards.

So, a few months ago... I printed up cards that I could give to people I meet that has an apology inside.

If you happen to see me, please say hi.

But be patient with me... I'm doing my best to "people" .

Sending Big Hugs from the Hobbit Hole. ♥♥♥

Scott

[sajra-savera]

How it feels like to post on Tumblr with no mutuals :

[bobosbillionsknives]

Happy birthday Vash and Knives !!!

(not ship art)

[the-artist-grimm]

Forneus should bench-press Narinder

Vessel #7 was an interesting disciple. She came in with a strong sense of justice and a desire to help, yet in the same vein could be overtly informal and overzealous-namely in her over-confidence in flirting with anyone, from her cultists to enemies to Death himself. Despite his lack of interest and repeated attempts at telling her to cease fooling around, she continued taunting him till the day she abdicated the crown.

She got under his skin in a way others hadn't, and while at the time he'd loathed it, once she was gone, he found himself missing her sound. Her deaths were rare as was her company, but even so, most vessels didn't bother trying to converse as much as she did, and while he could've done without the flirts, it was almost enjoyable at times, when she dropped the flirting that is.

[moonshadow-thoughts]

Do you ever feel like you don't belong anywhere? Like there is no place and no people for you?

[tempter-sent]

I'm so obsessed with their dynamic in this movie!!!! OP manspreading in his chair and Megs being the one that's tightly-wound and anxious ohhhh I'm in heaven

[lizardkween420]

Nanami is aware of the effect he has on women. It’s not that he minds the attention, it’s just that he feels it is hard to live up to certain expectations. He’s overheard friends (Gojo) talking about getting choked, getting their hair pulled. He sees the eyes he gets when he’s in a suit. He’s very secure in his masculinity, but he feels he is not the tough, commanding man he seems to come off as.

When you told him you wanted someone to take charge in the bedroom, he panicked. What did that mean, exactly? You didn’t give any details. What if you wanted him to hit you? He had no judgment of it, but he didn’t think he could talk himself into touching you in any way that wasn’t gentle. When he looks at you his voice always comes out a few notes higher than he meant it to.

Luckily, he asked for clarification, and you assured him you didn’t want him to do anything that didn’t sound enjoyable. You told him what you wanted. He thought about it for nights on end.

Outside it is raining.

One of the reasons it is so easy to be with you is that your ideal weekday date is a night at his place, watching a movie and eating a meal that he says only took “a few minutes” to put together. And even though you intimidate him— how could you not, you’re gorgeous and brilliant— it’s easy to ask you to sleep over, too.

He knows that you love to validate his concerns about whether he is taking charge enough or not, but he doesn’t want you to have to. He’s determined to practice.

“Any day, now, sweetheart,” he says, thickly sarcastic. Then his face freezes and he glances over at you. “How was that?”

You laugh and finally stop putting up your hair. “Very good, Kento. Very commanding.”

He’s sitting on the edge of his neatly made bed and watching you, one leg bouncing tellingly. You stand in front of him, and feel the heat of his body against your thin clothes.

You’re trying to make eye contact but he won’t look up from your lap. You tilt his head up, and finally, he meets your gaze.

His soft brown eyes are glazed, lightly, and the longer he looks at you, the wider his pupils become.

You can feel his breath on your bare neck.

“Can I… “ he whispers as he leans in.

Something about his nervousness inspires a comfortable anxiety in you, and all you can do is nod. And you know you should close your eyes, but you want to watch, you want to see the outline of his hand coming to rest on your cheek, you want to see the way his eyes flutter shut as he gets closer, you want to see the way his lips move right before they are on you.

And then it doesn’t matter whose idea it was, because you’re kissing, finally. His tongue presses gently against yours, finally. You catch the softest moan from the back of his throat, finally.

And then everything is easy.

You throw one leg over him and sit in his lap, wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and leaning in. You feel the bulge of his cock as you drag yourself instinctively against it, and he places an arm firmly around your waist to keep you where you are. You kiss him hungrily— a description you hate, but what else can describe the way you are trying to breathe him in, to consume him?

You feel his lips fumble against yours, and pull away softly. “What?”

“I said I want you to get on your back,” he says breathlessly.

It drives you all the more wild to know that he probably sat for a minute or two, wanting you, thinking about what to say before he said it.

In one move, and without taking his lips off yours, he stands and twists you so that you are pressed against the bed.

For a moment he pulls away and looks down at you, blonde hair mussed and falling down his forehead. Then he leans back down and whispers in your ear, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

Then he is kissing his way down messily, running his tongue against your neck, your collarbone, stopping to pull off your shirt, then kissing delirious circles around your breasts. You feel his smile against your skin as your nipples react, hardening, desperate for him to reach them. But he takes his time, slides his tongue perilously close before retreating.

“Fuck, Kento,” you moan.

And with that— the sound of his name— he finally presses his lips over your left nipple. Your breath hitches as he runs his tongue lightly, back and forth. You try to reach for his belt buckle but he catches your wrist and pins it to the bed. His teeth graze your nipple and you feel his wide chest, still clothed, pressing against your stomach, your hips. Finally, he lets you fall from his mouth, and as he moves to your right, he reaches down to your thigh.

He doesn’t even touch you where you want him to, just traces lazy circles up the inside of your leg. Your hips twitch involuntarily, and he uses the hand that was holding your wrist to cup around your waist, keeping you still. The restraint makes you whimper, and his tongue seems to twist around your nipple in response.

He breaks away and begins to kiss a line down your stomach. Again, your hips move, but this time he lets them, hinging his arms around either one of your legs and looking up at you. He is kneeling in front of you now, and all you can say is, “I want you to make me come.”

And performance anxiety be damned, that’s all he needs to hear.

He pulls down your underwear with one hand and moves lower, kissing each thigh, kissing where each leg connects to your body, his breath hot and heavy against your pulsing clit, already thinly veiled in your own desire. You can feel him staring, and it doesn’t make you shy, so adoring is the way he touches you.

Then you feel his tongue on you, and your eyes close.

He is good without trying to be good, just desperate to make you feel the way that he feels. Your hand flies to the back of his head and grabs a soft fistful of his hair as he sucks lightly at your clit, flicking his tongue over the corner he knows you like best. One of his arms rests on your stomach, fingers pressed down against your hip bone, and the other holds your legs open, his heavy silver watch cool on your thigh. He draws you in closer, his lips bumping against yours, and when you open your eyes you see that his are closed, and his expression dreamy.

His tongue drops to the opening of your pussy and you buck forward against him, very suddenly on the edge. He traces his tongue back up to your clit with a pace so slow it’s cruel. As soon as he reaches the little bulb, he arches over it, around it, and back down, slowly, slowly. Your legs press against his hand but he holds you in one place, seemingly indifferent to how hard you are accidentally pulling on his hair. You feel the hand on your leg sliding upward, and his watch rests on the inside of your thigh as he dips one finger inside of you and curls it. His tongue laps along the base of his finger as he begins to pump his hand, again so slowly that you whine a little and drag your hips quickly against him. The arm resting on your stomach presses down, just firmly enough to keep you from going too fast.

Your knees press hard into his pectorals, which he knows means you’re close to coming. He slows his pace even more for just a second and looks up at you. “Does this feel good, princess?” he says.

“So… good,” you manage to say, before you make the mistake of making eye contact with him right as he pushes another finger inside you.

Then he is moving quickly, his knuckles bumping against your wet clit. As he fucks you with his fingers, he twists one over the other and taps against that spot below your belly button. He could find it in his sleep.

He doesn’t even have time to return to eating you out before you are coming on his fingers. But on the bright side, this way he gets to see you do it. Your hips lift up and your back arches, and the hand that has been locked onto his hair has fallen back against the bed. His fingers keep moving, slowing only slightly.

He remembers what you asked him to say to you. He had thought it would be too embarrassing, but when you’re writhing against his body like this, it’s easy. “Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding his thumb over your clit and letting it rest there.

And it feels like another spiral of pleasure sent seconds after the first, the orgasm chasing the breath from your throat. “Fuck, Kento—“

He pulls back gently, as he always does at the slightest indication of discomfort. “What is it—” he starts.

But you don’t give him the chance to finish. You are pulling him up by the collar of his shirt and shifting so that there is room for him beside you on the bed. Face to face, he kisses you as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt— why is this still on?

He moves to rise over you, and you push him back down. He’s done so well being in control, and now you want to take care of him. “Stay there,” you say, lifting yourself over him and pulling down the strained zipper of his pants.

You watch him stare as you guide the head of his cock against your clit. The warmth, the soft wetness covering his tip, the way he is watching you like you’re his favorite movie— your eyes close and a moan escapes your lips.

You feel his arms around your chest, his lips pressing into your collarbone. “Fuck me, princess, please…” He sucks lightly on your neck. “Please, just… fuck…”

You lean down and take a handful of his hair again. “Eyes on me.”

As he is looking up, you push the head of his dick inside yourself. You glide down his length, and he shutters underneath you.

You bounce on his lap, your knees pressed into the bed for leverage. For a moment, he is completely lost in the feeling of being in you, of you grinding yourself against him needily, of the soft moans rolling out of your mouth every time you come down all the way.

Then the hands that were limp on your waist clench, and suddenly he is guiding you, as if he knew exactly when your muscles would tire. There is no slowness now, no teasing, no wait. You are riding him hard, the tip of his cock nudging against your innermost skin, your fingers pressed into his chest. He pants against your chest, his hands folding indents into your skin as he tries to pull you closer.

“Now who’s desperate?” you breathe into his ear.

You see him squirm under you. “Keep… keep going just like that… please…”

His dick spasms in you. In response, you slow the wave of your hips to a crawl, dragging yourself up and down him as if you are in no rush to feel him release.

He groans, his head coming to rest against your shoulder. “Baby, you can’t… I can’t… last like that…”

You take his chin in your hand, tilt it up. His brown eyes are wet and heavy with desperation. “Not even for me?” you say.

But the way your clit bounces against his body, the feeling of him slowly filling you up, the way he is looking, still, like you’re the only thing he has ever wanted— you can’t last like this, either.

You press a clumsy kiss against his lips and feel his breath catch as you pick up the pace again, thrusting harder than before. He is pressing upward, hands now clawing at you blindly, the man completely undone by you bouncing on his dick. His brow furrows and you feel him pulsing hard inside you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you manage as the pressure rises in you. You bury your face into his neck, drawing yourself in as close as you can get.

“Fuck…” he whines, one arm wrapping around your waist, so tightly that you can only grind desperately against his cock as he comes in you. The surge of it hits you, his twitching tip rubbing against your G-spot right as you pull yourself into him, clenching hard. You spasm against him, momentarily helpless as you ride it out.

When you are able to open your eyes again, he is breathing heavily, looking at you, and smiling like you never see him smile. He sinks to the bed, bringing you down on top of him without pulling out. You collapse in a heap onto his chest as he kisses whatever skin he comes into contact with.

And he thinks how easy it is, how anything is, if it is for you.

[viktorrotkiv]

Phil Lester is a King for using the word introvert correctly

[faggylittleleatherboy]

No, Sirius is not shy or introverted or scared of saying what he thinks or talking to people. And no, he doesn’t go around oversharing and trauma dumping and being open and talkative with everyone. He’s actually extremely emotionally unavailable for 99,9% of people and that, plus the fact that he’s arrogant as fuck and the fact that most people bore him, is the reason why he had like 3 friends.

[moonlitkissing]

How does one fucking flirt?

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo frowns at his phone.

Or more specifically, at the test on his phone.

Around him, he hears the sound of his brothers tapping their own devices, much faster than he is. Looking up just makes Leo feel worse about his own progress - or lack-thereof.

Mikey’s the fastest, speeding through the test like nobody’s business. He’d been the one to make them all do this stupid test in the first place, so it makes sense that he’s having a blast.

Raph’s slower than Mikey is, but he’s still clearly answering the questions at a steady pace. Sometimes he looks unsure, but he powers through anyway.

Donnie often looks frustrated, which relieves Leo somewhat because at least someone is struggling like him. But that “struggle” isn’t nearly as big as his own, considering that Donnie is answering about as fast as Raph is.

Leo turns his gaze back down to his own test. He’s still near the beginning, he thinks.

He’d put the same answer for the past seven questions - the middle of the road answer, neither a “yes” or a “no.” Then, whenever he does come across one that is more one direction than the other, he second guesses himself and restarts the test!

Sure, there are a few he could definitely give a yes or a no to, but…never the “strongly agree” or “strongly disagree” that the test seemed to want from him.

He eyes his twin sitting nearby, the softshell absorbed in the test. Maybe Leo should copy what Donnie put for some of these…

“DONE!” Mikey’s shout makes Leo freeze in place just as he started to lean over.

“What?” Donnie squawks, “No way you’re already finished, you must’ve been cheating!”

“It’s a personality test, Dee!” Mikey stuck his tongue out, “You can’t cheat at those!”

…

Leo settles back into his seat.

Ignoring Donnie’s mutterings about how it was “just because it’s not an academic test” that he didn’t finish first, Raph smiles encouragingly at Mikey.

“Hey, good job! So what’d you get, Mike?”

Mikey looks back down at his test, reading aloud, “Says that I got the “Campaigner”!”

“What’s that mean?” Leo asks, his phone screen going dark.

“Apparently, I’m an “enthusiastic, creative, and sociable free-spirit”.” Mikey reads, smiling at them, “You think it fits?”

“Oh, to a T, bro!” Leo laughs, giving Mikey a thumbs up, making Mikey’s smile grow larger.

Inside, Leo was feeling a lot more mixed about this. He has no idea how Mikey knew himself so well. Maybe Donnie was right and Mikey did cheat, because how could he answer those questions so easily?

Leo’s phone burns in his hand. He keeps it locked.

“Wow, that really is you.�� Raph says, his eyes flitting back and forth between his own test and Mikey, “Do you think it fits?”

“I guess? It’s fun to see at least!” Mikey shrugs with a grin.

“Hold on, I think…” Raph makes a noise of satisfaction, “Okay, done!”

“Sigh, now I’m relegated to the straggler group.” Donnie grumbles, his thumbs moving faster as he tries rushing through the questions.

“Ooh, what’d you get Raph?” Mikey asks, practically bouncing in curiosity.

“Says, uh…I got something called the “Consul”?” He squints his eyes to read more, “Uh, “caring, social, and community-minded.””

“Sounds about right to me.” Leo nods. Can’t be more “community-minded” than being a hero.

“Yeah, no one’s more caring than you, Raphie!” Mikey says, moving to lean across Raph’s shell.

“You do put the community in mind, that’s for sure.” Donnie states, not looking up.

Raph chuckles, a bit embarrassed, “Aw, thanks. It’s just some test, but it feels kinda good to hear that.”

Just a test. Right.

Leo unlocks his screen.

The test stares back at him.

Right. Okay. He can do this. He can.

The screen ends up going dark again.

Frustration builds up in Leo. Was he even halfway done with the test? At this rate, soon even Donnie will-

“FINISHED.”

Leo unlocks his phone.

“What’d you get, DonTon?” Leo asks as his thumb taps the top right of the screen.

Donnie puffs up proudly, a self sure grin on his face, “I got the result “Logician” which states that I, obviously, am an “innovative inventor with a thirst for knowledge.” Truly could not have described me better, if I do say so myself.”

“It is pretty accurate.” Raph agrees with a nod, “Even calls you an inventor, so extra accurate.”

“Super accurate.” Mikey jumps in, eyes shining.

“Yes, yes, almost like reading my own character synopsis.” Donnie’s grin had not dwindled since the word “innovative” had left his mouth.

Leo just nods along, eyes on his own screen as he skims the words. “Yeah, kinda creepy how close it got. Could have called you a nerd for extra accuracy, though.”

Donnie turns to him, eyes narrowing, “Have you even finished your test? I can think of a few words that’d describe you fairly well.”

“Test-y, huh?”

Before Donnie can strangle Leo, Raph cuts in.

“Ok, ok, calm it down, guys.” He rolls his eyes before turning to Leo. “But really, you’re not done yet?”

“Leo’s taking this self reflection seriously.” Mikey sports a faux intellectual expression as he gives a jokingly serious nod. “Maybe we all should’ve taken our time.”

“Says the one who sped through the whole thing in a record time.” Donnie mutters.

Leo waves them all off, “Nah, I finished it ages ago.”

He grins when Donnie immediately shoots him a suspicious glare. “Oh, you did, did you? Then what could you have possibly gotten, Nardo?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Leo clears his throat, “Neon Leon just so happens to be an “Entertainer.””

“Ah. That confirms it. This test is meaningless.” Donnie drones.

“Hey-“

“What’s an Entertainer like?” Mikey asks with a tilt of his head, still hanging off of Raph’s shell.

“Glad you asked, Miguel!” Leo exclaims, “It says that “life is never boring” around yours truly~”

He emphasizes this “result” of his by waving his phone with said “result” on screen.

It’s just an image he found of his chosen personality result, but they don’t need to know that.

Raph nods slowly, “Well, I guess that’s true…”

“”Never boring” is one way to put it.” Donnie hums.

“You are pretty fun, Leo!” Mikey says emphatically, because he’s great like that.

“Thank you, thank you, life of the party, right here.” Leo grins, pointing both thumbs at himself.

He’s careful not to go too overboard with it, or else it might tip someone off.

Not that it…really matters. It’s just a test. Like Raph said.

As the topic around him shifts to something else, jumping away from this brief activity as fast as any other among them, Leo finds himself unlocking his phone and pulling up the test again.

Unanswered questions stare at him. He knows what answers Lou Jitsu would pick. He knows what answers Jupiter Jim would pick. Hell, he knows exactly what answers his brothers would pick.

He doesn’t know what answers Leonardo would pick.

Leo stares at the test for a second longer, before he exits the site and throws himself into the conversation happening around him.

It’s just a stupid test, nothing to worry about.

Just a test…