#im feeling generous

[saltnsugarbear]

probably never gonna do this again here's a sneak peak!!!! (18+)!!!!

Now this is risky.

You took Carmy out clothes shopping. Help him switch up his closet. Get him more shirts to go with all his jeans.

So it made sense when Carmy called you into his changing room. No one else was waiting so you figured there were no issues with you slipping in. Carmy looks good, dressed in a deep blue polo that hugs his arms nicely.

"Looks nice," You tell him softly, reaching out to flatten the fabric. You tug at it softly, eyeing the way it stretches along his chest.

"Yeah?" He whispers softly, you can feel him watching you, eyes watching your face. You nod absently, bringing your hands to trace over his tattoos.

"Dressy... But good.." You tell him, tugging at the hem again before you glance at him. Carmy hums, hands sneaking over your waist. He uses his hold on you to turn you around, tugging you until your back meets his chest.

The change puts you face-to-face with the mirror, Carmy watching as he brushes his hands over your hips.

"Think we can find y'somethin' to match?" He asks softly. You hum in response, focusing on Carmy behind you. You can't help how you gaze keeps coming back to his hands on your waist, tracing the tattoos there.

You miss the way he rolls his eyes, turning you to face the wall.

"Wha-" You start as he shepards you towards it. He presses kisses to your cheek, trying to distract you until he's got you flush against the surface. You can't really think of anything as he surrounds you and you can't help but say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Claire's getting worried," You sigh out. Why the fuck are you talking about Claire when Carmy's got you pressed against the wall of the changing room. Carmy huffs against your skin, hand sneaking around you to slip into the front of your jeans.

"'Bout what?" He's humoring you, getting you to talk so he can hear the effect he has on you.

"Thinks I'm- 'm bein-shit," You sigh softly and Carmy rocks his hips against your ass in time with the movements of his fingers. It's almost painfully slow as he kisses at your neck.

"Thinks what, baby?" He prompts you and you can't remember what you're talking about.

"I'm bein' weird, keep canceling on her. Oh fuck-" You grab at his arm when he slips two of his fingers into your entrance. There's little resistance as he pushes his fingers further into you. Anything else you would have said is replaced with a low whine as he pushes deeper.

Carmy's shushing you softly, trying to remind you that you guys are in dressing room right now. But you can't think past the tight circles he's rubbing against your clit. Can't form a coherent thought past the steady thrusting of his ring and middle fingers.

At some point you must be getting too loud, because Carmy's other hand finds it's way over your mouth. The action makes you impossibly more dizzy, scrambling for his arm as he picks up the pace. When he curls his fingers against your walls your jaw drops, giving him ample opportunity to push his fingers into your mouth. Which he does. His fingers are heavy against your tongue as you close your mouth around them. You groan softly around them as he rubs softly at your clit.

It's not long before you squeal against the wall, legs pushing flush to it as the band in your stomach breaks. Carmy holds you up as your body tenses with your release, cooing in your ear quietly. You whine softly as he slips both pairs of fingers out of you, letting you breathe heavily against the wall.

The hand from between your legs disappears while you lean back against him heavily. You don't have to look when you hear a soft groan from his mouth behind you.

"Y'gotta go before me.." He prompts you softly, giving your hip a soft squeeze. You groan, letting your forehead fall against the wall. He huffs softly, turning you around so he can fix your jeans.

You forgot how good he looks in the polo he's wearing, grabbing at it softly. He smiled at you, fixing your shirt and hair next.

"Come on," He pats your hip. "Gotta get out first."

You roll your eyes before he gives you a kiss to your cheek. You give him one in return before you find your legs, slipping out of the changing room. You're distracted by the clothes across the way, brain still a little fuzzy as you flip through them.

"Think I'm gonna get this one," Carmy says when he finds you outside the changing room. He's got the polo he was just wearing on a hanger. It's a little rumpled, something easily excused by him trying it on. You huff softly, glancing at him. You can see a little spark in his eyes that makes you shake your head a little, picking through the other shirts he grabbed.

You grab a few silently, placing them on the return rack before nodding. "Okay."

Carmy chuckles softly at your choices. The ones he had modeled for you that were a bit tighter, a couple of sweaters in the mix too.

You'd call that a successful shopping trip.

[triptychofvoids]

I am sad...can you give me a lollipop..?

i prefer only handing those out to people who have been good patients, but then again i do have an abundance of them so.. whats your favorite flavor?

[lelianaslefthand]

woe winona playlist be upon ye 🫴

[catboybiologist]

By now, there's lots of people have heard about the internal CDC memos for all newly prepared manuscripts (like future scientific papers waiting to be published):

There's so much to comment on, and I'm seeing it all right now. What the state of science is. What this means for the queer community. All of that.

But fuck, I think I might genuinely start crying over this. As a transgender biologist, this feels like a brutally personal blow. I slowly accepted my gender alongside my biology education. The more misinformation that was spewed about "biological sex" by mainstream media, the more my professors, colleagues, and primary sources would casually drop information that proved they have no idea what they're talking about. I'm not an expert on sex determination, gender, or transgender biology specifically by any means. But my worldview has been crafted by my studies in genetics and molecular biology.

Engaging with this research helped me demystify transition. It helped me optimize my transition. It helped me explain how HRT and other steps of trans healthcare work to other people. And it helped me overcome my own internalized transphobia, and finally start transitioning, despite knowing I wanted to since my preteen years.

Who knows how enforceable internal guidelines like this will be. But its certainly going to scare a lot of researchers away from transgender healthcare and science in the coming years, and that breaks my heart.

There's a lot I can say here, but fuck. I just needed to vent for a moment. Fuck.

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

truly this one's just for me. I can do what I want foreverrr

[barghuest-draws]

Well cushioned ❤️💛

[hyunpic]

#waxingracha

[neonparades]

back again with the cyclone shenanigans 🌀🌀

[tacc0yak1]

mhm he still got it 😎

[xiyade]

I should get a bonus for looking so hot in the office

[pokeberry5]

i finished resolve and i love it sm ;-; i'm planning to go through and redraw some of my favorite moments, so i'll probably be posting these in batches. stay tuned

edit: next batch ; also adventures

i can't believe we got crossdressing in an ace attorney game. i love that the entire court keeps talking about how handsome ryuutaro is

what would we do without susato.

[myurch]

free and everlasting

[sophfandoms53]

THEY’RE FINALLY LETTING KIRK COOK IN THIS ROLE OH WE LOVE TO SEE IT

AND WE’RE RE-EMBRACING JUST HOW FUCKING COOL SHADOW IS AND HOW COMPASSIONATE HE AND MARIA TRULY WERE WITH EACH OTHER???

WE TRULY ARE SO FUCKING BACK AND WE WILL NEVER TURN BACK AGAIN

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[b4kuch1n]

podcast people in my phone