#bashfuls

[joosyratgod]

me and my new friend, bleeker, on a tire swing

[doomtribble73]

[beardedmrbean]

Eight-year-old Max Alexander holds the world record as the youngest runway fashion designer. He began designing at the age of four.

[valtsv]

when you have a hammer everything looks like a nail. and when you have a favourite character everything looks like . The Character

[sculien]

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS 6.09

[on-a-lucky-tide]

there's something so reassuring about seeing you so openly outspoken in the past few days

there's comfort in a queer protective front

We are all in this together and we have more support than you know. Check this out from today in London:

Theresa's a pretty well known trans woman around here. But when I arrived, the protest was already in all the roads. Busses couldn't go anywhere. The police were trying to kettle but they couldn't do it. In the end, we had to start marching. Legal observers were everywhere, and I watched two chase some CSPOs carrying a camera to intercept. (Big up to legal observers, it's a voluntary role taken to by solicitors, lawyers and barristers, and they are legends.) Trans people and their allies ground the capital city of the UK to a halt.

The media will blackout and minimise today as much as possible. But if you're ever feeling like the LGBT community has no support, I urge you to go to a protest.

I'm reminded of what historian Dominic Sandbrook said if the so-called 1960s sexual revolution in the UK, that it was "in the newspapers not people's bedrooms". That most people remained sexually and socially conservative despite what 60s and 70s media would have you believe. Evidenced in 1983 when a poll reported only 17% of people saw homosexual relationships as acceptable despite it being decriminalised in 1967 (as a product of the belief the state had no right to interfere in people's private lives, not an increase of social acceptance).

But anyway! My point is: the media crafts the narrative it wants in order to sell. It fucking lies about what is really happening and it always has. UK media would have you believe we are "TERF Island", which, ok, we have JKKK Rowling and Maya Forstater (barf), et al, but the British people? Not lost yet.

I never expected to get to thirty. The LGBT community helped me make it, so every year after I owe to them. I may not have all the right phrases, words, attitudes, whatever, but I will throw down in an instant for the community. No quarter. We got this.

[sneeze-weed7]

just finished resolution and apathy and the scream i scrumpt when i saw him yall would not believe

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ baby daddy!satoru who wants needs you back.

in fact, you should've known he was playing a game the instant that text blinked onto your screen: pick your daughter up from his place, not school. a casual oops, totally forgot it was your day! that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

what choice did you really have? the entire drive to that too-familiar house, your nerves were a tangled mess. pulling into the driveway, parking crookedly in your haste, the only thing screaming in your head was this used to be ours.

this small, unassuming house, a world away from the sterile grandeur of his old penthouse. the first grand gesture of your marriage had been this new place.

"the bigger the house," satoru had murmured against your bare skin that first night, "the further i'd have to be from you." so, your mornings had begun with tangled limbs and hurried kisses, and your evenings had ended in the same breathless way.

it had been the kind of dizzying happiness you foolishly thought would last forever. but then the cracks had started to show – the endless work trips, the hollow promises of things changing. he had gotten better, ironically, after the papers were signed.

satoru stood in the doorway, that infuriatingly charming, utterly knowing smirk plastered across his face. your gaze darted around the living room, a quick, almost desperate search. "where's she?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his reply was a casual flick of his wrist. "oh, she's at a friend's."

a harsh scoff escaped you. arms crossed tight against your chest, you scoffed, "what? why? i drove all the way out here!"

"you were coming anyway," he purred, those soft puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours. "i can bring her back later. thought we could, you know… catch up."

"catch up?" you repeated, incredulous. "are you serious right now? we're not catching up, satoru. we're divorced."

but those eyes. they always had been your undoing. and somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing to this ridiculous "catch-up." you'd pictured awkward small talk over lukewarm tea, maybe a stale cookie.

not this. not being bent in a cruel mating-press, his body a brutal, insistent press against yours, fucking you with a desperate hunger that stole your breath and any semblance of rational thought.

"god, it's been so fucking lo- long since i felt this," he grunted, his hips slamming into you with a possessive force that made you cry out. "this tight little cunt clenching - shit - around me like that."

"ah, 'toru," you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, clinging on for dear life.

"been even longer si- since i heard you say my name like that." his sweaty bangs were plastered to his forehead, a flush creeping up his neck. his pace was relentless, each thrust deeper, harder, a raw, primal need driving him. he hadn't touched anyone since you, didn't want to.

tears streamed down your face, a messy mix of pain and something dangerously close to pleasure. and that bastard, your soon-to-be-not-ex-husband-anymore, thought you looked beautiful. his thick cock stretched you, filled you completely, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"did you miss this, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. "because i fucking did. bet- bet no one else makes you feel like this."

a choked whine escaped you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, a stinging sensation hitting. you can't think of a response, literally. you can't even think of your own name - you can't remember.

all that mattered was the way he was making you feel, the dizzying spiral of sensation. and in the name of "catching up," he makes you come, at least half a dozen shattering orgasms ripping through you before he finally relented, burying his face in the space between your tits.

he looked up at you, panting, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "so… about moving back in?"

fuck those puppy-dog eyes.

[hellspawnmotel]

soulmates !

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

little bee and ratchet from 10 years ago,...

[frodosrings]

give elrond a break challenge failed

[bugbugbugbugbugbugbugbugbug]

how it started

how it's going

(edit credit)

[pempempemto]

they make me so ill i cant do this

[jellycatstuffies]

Bashful Patchwork Brown Bunny

Ko-fi / Instagram