#-of media i've consumed of this man

[melancholicstation]

a video excerpt of an interview with robert f. kennedy during the assumed late nineteen-sixties.

"so i think that i'm impatient and I suppose i hope everyone would be impatient"

"i think people should be angry enough to speak out"

"I think you have one time around and I don't know what's going to be in existence in 6 months, or a year, or a year and a half, or two years or—so I think that you have to feel that you—that there are all these problems in which you are here on earth to make some contribution of some kind. So I think that you're-i'm impatient and I suppose i hope everyone would be impatient. And I—y'know there was—somebody wrote on the pyramids at the time they were being constructed the words "and no one was angry enough to speak out" and I think people should be angry enough to speak out and I think there are injustices and there are unfairnesses in my own country and around the world and I think that if one feels involved in it that one should try to do something about it.

[youarenotthewalrus]

Reading The Return of Sherlock Holmes and it is really funny how much these first couple of stories feel like the first couple episodes of a TV show coming back from cancellation. The first episode back revolves around getting the gang back together and explaining how the main character somehow didn't die when he got killed off in what was supposed to be the series finale while tying up the plotline of said finale. There's a bunch of work that goes into reestablishing the previous status quo that takes the opportunity to simplify things and clean up some of the complications that arose along the way (RIP Mary Watson, you sure were a plot element that ACD introduced without thinking about the consequences and then had to awkwardly write around in such a convoluted way that it's simpler to accept the fan theory that your entire marriage was a fabrication by Watson to hide the fact that he and Holmes were lovers than to accept that it was real). We even end the first episode with a triumphant return to the old set, carefully preserved exactly as it was previously and filled with callbacks for the fans to enjoy:

Our old chambers had been left unchanged through the supervision of Mycroft Holmes and the immediate care of Mrs. Hudson. As I entered I saw, it is true, an unwonted tidiness, but the old landmarks were all in their place. There were the chemical corner and the acid-stained, deal-topped table. There upon a shelf was the row of formidable scrapbooks and books of reference which many of our fellow-citizens would have been so glad to burn. The diagrams, the violin-case, and the pipe-rack—even the Persian slipper which contained the tobacco—all met my eyes as I glanced round me.

[literary-heights]

podcasts are really interesting because i have never in my life listened to one that didn't profoundly change my life

[brown-little-robin]

gesticulates wildly

[timothyslucy]

characters are meant to be shipped with other characters, when will the evil (character x reader fics) come to an end?? 😩

[manipulatedstars]

UGH this is so GOOD 🤧🤧🤧

Genuinely probably my favorite period piece (lol) I've ever read? It's different from the usual "here's a heating pad and chocolate and cuddles" and although there's obviously nothing wrong with that, those usually feel like teenage love stories.

This guy though? None of that. He would if you wanted any of that, but the way he doesn't even have to ask what's up. The way he knows her body and likes and dislikes so well. The way he doesn't even consider being grossed or weirded out... That's just a whole lot of sexy, mature man. And that's so Frank. So thank you for that.

|| Bleeding Heart ||

Pairing: Frank Castle X female reader

Rating: E 18+

Tags/warnings: period pain, period sex, period hangups, unprotected sex, thigh riding, Frank's a big caring hunk of love.

A/n: I had already done a Matt 'period piece' so it was time for Frank, plus I'm very sore atm and need this 🥺

As he watched you get ready for work from the bed, it didn't take long for him to notice that something was wrong. Of course he knew you loved your sleep but the way you reluctantly dragged yourself from the covers and trudged between the bedroom and bathroom, he could see you were in pain from the way you carried your body. When you necked a couple of painkillers that just confirmed it.

"You're staying home today."

You turn around blearily, "wha?"

"Phone work and tell them you're not comin' in."

"I'm fine!" you protest, if slightly pathetically.

"No, you're stayin' here with me."

"Frank I can't just-"

You see the grit in his expression. "Do it or I'll do it for ya."

You roll your eyes and do as he asks, secretly relieved you could have some time to rest. Frank tells you to put your pyjamas back on. He throws back the covers and you crawl back into bed and lay on top of him, your thighs on either side of one of his, burrowing your head in the space between his neck and shoulder.

"Where are you hurtin'? Is your back sore baby?"

You hum and nod, melting into the big warm mass of his body as he starts gently rubbing and kneading his hands into your lower back, and its not long before you're dozing off in his arms.

You wake yourself with your own moan, suddenly very aware of hot, wet throbbing between your legs as your hips absently grind against something firm.

You crack open an eye and things start to come back into focus. Frank's looking down at you, a sly smirk on his lips.

"Nice dream, huh?" He teases. Your cheeks suddenly feel hot and you bury your face again so you don't have to look at him. You didn't really know why you felt embarrassed about it, he'd seen you a lot more desperate before, maybe it was just because you felt a bit more vulnerable on your period.

"Aw don't stop on my account. C'mon, I know it feels good." His huge hands press into your hips and encourage you to keep moving against his thigh and you can't suppress the little noise that escapes you as you let your body move for him, pressing up off your hands to sit up. '''sides, you told me orgasms were good for the pain, remember..." He coaxes you to continue chasing your sleepy high, one hand on your ass and the other sliding up underneath your shirt over your back.

You nod, "I did, they are... oh-" you start moving your hips faster and Frank keeps holding you steady against him. You can feel his cock pressing against the front of your hip and try sneaking a hand down to brush against him but he stops you.

"Nah, don't you worry bout me, you take what you need sweetheart. Be a good girl f'me."

As soon as he starts with the praise you are gone. You close your eyes as you move, drawing ever closer to release, your fingers curling around the sheets. Frank loves seeing you like this. If he could pinpoint what turns him on the most it would be this switch, the moment where you swung from feeling a little self conscious, to unabashedly taking control of your pleasure with both hands. You take hold of his arm, guiding his hand to your breasts for him to caress, squeeze and pinch. He touches his free hand to your neck, his thumb stroking along your jaw towards your chin. His cock twitches as he only barely has to brush over your lips for your mouth to drop open obediently and your tongue to flatten against it. Your lips close around his thumb and you suck between your rising moans. He feels you squeeze around his leg, your movements becomingly increasingly erratic as you crest. When he flexes his thigh muscles beneath you it's all over, shuddering, gasping and whining his name as your orgasm floods your body with endorphins and you feel the warm release of slick and blood as you ride his thigh, gradually slowing the roll of your hips and breathing heavily with the effort.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he muses, stroking his hands down your sides as you come back to him, your eyes dark with hunger as they meet his. As you lay off to the side of him, your hand creeps it's way up his thigh.

"You feel better? Can I do somethin' else for ya?" he asks, even though your arousal is still written all over your face as you nod. But even so, you look a bit unsure.

"I- will you-" you stutter, the words just won't come out. Frank has to say it for you.

"I'll fuck you baby, is that what you need, huh?"

You dip your head. Years of ingrained shame winning over something that should be perfectly natural - is perfectly natural.

"it's all... the blood and everything, you don't have to -"

He stops you right there, with lips soft on your forehead then on your own, his eyes kind. "D'ya think I care about the blood? Anyways, that's what we got a shower for." He gets up to retrieve an old towel from the laundry basket, spreading it on the bed. "Where d'ya want me angel?" he asks, peeling off his sweatpants.

You just stare at him for a beat, until your brain catches up with what he's doing.

"Don't care, just want you." you respond, base desire kicking in and mesmerised as ever as his cock springs up and smacks against his stomach.

He chuckles and pats the towel. "C'mon and lay down then pretty girl."

You shimmy off your ruined underwear leaving it on the floor before you lie down on the bed. You keep your knees pressed together and Frank runs his palm slow up and down the outside of your thigh reassuringly. "Hey now, you're not gonna be worried bout any of that in a minute," he leans forward kissing you deep, his talented tongue distracting you from any residual self-consciousness as he slips his hand between your legs to spread them apart and settle between them. "Let me take care of you." he says, sitting back to rub the head of his cock teasingly over your clit before he's pushing it down between your slick inner labia to press against your entrance.

"Frank!" you whine as he stays exactly where he is. Impatient and horny, you hook your leg and your arms around him taking him a little by surprise as you pull him sharply forward into you. Sometimes in your haze of lust you forget just how big he is, and this is one of those times. You cry out at the initial burn and Frank grits his teeth as your cunt squeezes him like a vice. It feels like you're splitting apart as his cock spears all the way inside, bumping against your cervix.

"Shit baby, fuck! Slow down..slow down." He's full of care and concern as he remains still until he feels you relax, and it makes your heart jump.

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair and he noses your cheek. "M'sorry, I know I'm greedy."

He shakes his head and smiles. "I just don't wanna hurt ya. You good?"

The discomfort quickly gives way to the warm, satisfying sensation of having him so very close to you. "Yea, I'm good," you answer, tilting your hips and moving slow, experimentally, letting go of a deep sigh as the long drag of his cock stokes the heat within you again. He takes over, so gentle with you this morning, he knows exactly what you crave when you're like this, sometimes knowing what you need even better than yourself. He's the full spectrum and it constantly has you pinching yourself to check you're not in a dream. He could rail you rough and raw on a rooftop without breaking a sweat, or be so intimate making love to you with such tenderness like he was now.

You reach up to kiss him as he rocks sweetly into you. "Did I tell you I love you?"

He smiles, "every day baby."

"Well, here it is again. I fucking love you."

He chuckles, tracing the side of your face with his fingers. "this you gettin' all soft on me?"

You give him an incredulous look, "I'm always soft on you Castle."

"Mm, I've got the scratches to prove that ain't so..." he grins as you playfully push at him. "I fuckin' love you too sweetheart."

He keeps up the fluid, languid roll of his hips, pushing little addictive gasps of pleasure from your throat. "Love you," he repeats, "so much." his softly whispered words only adding to the growing tendrils of bliss spreading their way throughout your body. The intensity of the feeling ramps up as he lifts your leg higher and drives deeper, you tilt your head back and close your eyes, exposing your neck for him to shower kisses along as he hits the perfect spot within you.

"mm yeah, oh there, oh fuck Frank, right there..."

"That feel good honey?"

"S'good, s'good!" you moan and not-so-silently pray that he never stops making you feel this way, feeling his smile against your skin and the promise that he'll do his best if you'll do the same.

You're asking him if he's close and the truth is he's losing his mind over how you feel. So hot, tight, and slicker than you've ever been but he just nods and tries to focus on you. He knows you're just teetering on the edge, arching and pushing up against his body and ready to come apart.

"mm Frank..."

"I've gotcha." he growls, the rhythm of his thrusts steady as his fingers slide down between you to your clit, circling tight and raking your moans higher. You pull him impossibly close and he feels you tense and coiled underneath him for an instant, your body taking everything he can give you, and then, the sweet release happens. And god damn, the sounds you make and the way your pussy clenches around him, you make him want to live in this moment for fucking ever as he groans and spills inside you. He doesn't quit until he's sure you've had enough, until the shivers of your pleasure start to fade and you're telling him okay, okay.

After a quick shower you're both back in bed, and there's nothing but the soft hush of your breathing for a long while. Then, the gentle sounds of his lips kissing every bit of you he can reach. And then, giggles that quickly rise to laughter as his scruffy stubble tickles against your sensitive skin.

"Feelin' any better doll?"

You're curled up with his arm draped over you, idly stroking your lower belly.

"So, so much."

"Alright. Gonna look after ya today, anything you need you just holler, I'll come runnin'."

He's always such a big soft puppy afterwards, and it makes your heart melt. You ruffle his damp hair and he retaliates by kissing you almost breathless.

"Can we have pancakes for breakfast, hm?" It's a pointless question as you already know the answer, but you love how his eyes light up when you mention it.

"Hell yeah, you know I ain't ever gonna say no to that." After one more kiss he's throwing the covers back and you're watching him walking about butt naked in the kitchen except for your waist apron, making coffee and mixing batter with a wink thrown your way.

"I fucking love you Frank."

"I fuckin' love you too."

.

.

Hi! If you enjoy my fics please consider reblogging, it means that others get to enjoy them too! I also love to hear if there's anything in particular you liked, please comment! Thank you so much for reading 💕

[boredymcbored]

...

I miss my dead friends.

[2old2swiftie]

Just a note for the Gaylors and Bi-lors out there:

I'm really old-- like, I could easily be your mom, and for some, I could even be your grandma-- and I've consumed a lot of media. I'm Gen-X, so I remember the day MTV premiered. I remember when the internet was 2800 baud dial-up. Urban legends couldn't be debunked without a lot of time in a library, and if you missed an episode or a performance, you might never get to see it again.

We had the same "feelings" about some celebrities: our "gaydar" pinged loudly on some people and we knew in our guts they were LGBT, no matter how the media presented them.

Jodie Foster? I knew when she was in Candleshoe and Freaky Friday (the one BEFORE Lindsey Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis)

Rick Martin, soap opera hunk in the 90s? Livin' la Vida Loca in 1999? I called him as gay when I first saw him on General Hospital. He didn't come out until 2010.

George Michael. 1984 "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go"? Same. No straight man wears stubble like that.

Tracy Chapman. Knew it.

I remember getting my first earful of Melissa Etheridge in 1988. I knew she was a lesbian the first time I heard her lyrics, but Melissa didn't decide to come out until 1993 with Yes, I Am.

[I lucked out on that one: My office mate in grad school was a glorious flaming fag from Leavenworth KS, Etheridge's hometown, and he came back from Christmas break in 1989 to tell me, "One of my lesbian friends showed me a videotape: it was her ex, Missy, appearing on The Tonight Show!! It was that rocker chick you've been obsessed with: Melissa Etheridge."]

You're not wrong. You're not crazy. You're not projecting.

What you see, over and over, is an issue that Taylor can't keep out of her art. She may never reveal it fully; she may never choose to come out. She may marry 🏈 and have 57 little tight ends.

But what you see is NOT a projection. You're not making it up.

[calisources]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences and quotes have been taken from different media about starcrossed lovers or forbidden love, full of angst, some bold words, some nasty ones, possessive nature and letting someone use you as a replacement. So, some toxic energy in this one. Change pronouns, locations and names as you see fit.

I love you,and I will love you until I die,and if there's a life after that,I'll love you then.

Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?

And there is a difference between having your heart break and having your soul shatter.

I'm falling in love with you.

I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. I have waited for this for such a long time. Consequences be damned.

These violent delights have violent ends.

 I’m only human. And you are …all-consuming.

Don’t go into this lightly. If you’re mine, you need to understand I will burn the fucking world to the ground for you.

I will never let you go, do you hear me? 

 will keep you safe. And I will find a way for us to be together.

If you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.

If you were any less the man you are, I would beg you to take me with you.

If you were any less the woman you were, I would beg you to come with me.

I've known lust. This is something worse. This is a barbaric need to possess, to eliminate, to own. This is madness.

This is lust.

She’s your very own forbidden fruit.

You said you didn't want this.

We all desire what we cannot have.

Have you noticed how the boy looks at you?

Do you think I didn’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?

You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.

We can’t do this on so many levels.

I can't even whisper her name, my heart would burst out of my chest.

But I would fight against the stars for you.

I have ruined your life.

Some lines you just don't cross. 

I want to take you under the moonlight.

Having something forbidden is exciting, don't you agree?

The closer we get—the more I let you in…the more dangerous this gets.

Don’t you get it? You’re what everyone wants! But I’m not going to let them win.

Make it so I never have to dream about this again—make it so we can have this…forever.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

We were doomed from the start. 

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

But this kiss? It's ruined me. This is the type of kiss I never knew existed. 

You sure about that, Dad? Because he's done everything to me.

Are you scared of me now?

You loved me - then what right had you to leave me?

I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

One moment, you give me everything that I want, and in the next, you snatch all of that away.

It's hopeless. We can never work out.

The world didn’t want us together so I forged a new one where we would.

How could a peacock lust for a lion?

You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

It's absurd how crazy love can make you...but even more absurd how stupid jealousy can make you.

 That you and I are meant to be together, but never meant to be.

Why does fate seem always to conspire against us? To deny us life's simple pleasures?

We'll meet after this war. I'll certainly find you wherever you'll hide. 

War makes fools of men and women wanton.

What offends you most, Father? That she's Catholic, or that she's poor?

If my father discovers you here, he'd cut off your little nuts and eat them. He can't stand you.

You tempress, I see you once and all I can think of is having you.

Feelings are forbidden, does not mean we cannot enjoy one another.

The more you deny me, the more I desire you. You are a plague in my mind.

Ever since we met, no one else can compare. 

How can I be with someone else, when I’m with them, it’s you I see.

You can have me, think of whoever you love. For tonight.

You can pretend I'm her/him. I don't care. I just want you.

[goldenwoods]

This post is about the gaiman situation.

Right off the bat, fuck him and his associates. It's rare for someone in a position of power to get what they deserve but I hope he joins that short list. And I wish the victims well. What a horrible situation to be abused by a man masquerading as a champion for inclusivity and human rights.

That said, I don't understand the vitriol put towards people who're trying to recontextualise their relationship to gaiman's media in light of the revelations. I'm talking about those posts and comments getting angry at people for grieving, accusing them of not prioritising the victims.

Which is such an unwarranted accusation. Obviously, if they're under a post or article about the victim's testimony and they go "my season 3 :(((" or "my poor characters don't deserve this :("in the comment section then yeah, they're pretty disgusting. But the same accusations shouldn't be levied at people trying to come to terms with the fact that their formative experience was written by a monster ON THEIR OWN BLOG.

This isn't putting fictional characters before victims, it's just that there can't be much said about such a black and white situation that isn't already said by a million other posts ("fuck gaiman, fuck his supporters, hope the victims get justice"), whereas how a reader themselves deal with the fall of someone they've put on a pedestal is a much more complicated and nuanced process that they have to think through. If anything, I think it's a sign of a healthy community who treat 'fuck gaiman' as common sense and not something that needs arguments about. I don't know if there are ways to help the victims yet beyond just showing support on social media (let me know if i've missed something), but I don't think going after any fan daring to talk about their own relationship to the text is helpful at all. And I can guarantee you those who're grappling with how they feel towards the text now –– those feeling betrayed and angry –– will be quick to rally to support the victims because they're only feeling conflicted because of how disgusted they are with the author.

(For context, I don't feel attached to Gaiman at all so this is not related to any personal stakes I have in this. I enjoyed GO the show, but never read or watched any of his works otherwise. I was planning to get a copy of GO the book but the allegations surfaced first so that didn't end up happening either. I am partial to David and Michael's acting but even then I'm just a casual fan and if they react in a disappointing way to the Gaiman situation, I feel like I could stop consuming their works without much emotional turmoil.)

EDIT: since this is getting a fair bit of attention, i want to summarise my midnight ramble a bit: the crux of the problem is that lots of people treat this blogspace as a mega-conversation, which is how the 'you're not focussing on the victims enough' accusation come up. Think if you're in a conversation about how person A had been hurt by B: OF COURSE your response should be 'gosh that's fucked up. hope A's doing okay', and if your response ON THE SPOT is 'ohhhhh shit i don't know how to feel about the fact that I used to really like B lemme monologue about my complicated emotions out loud' then yeah you're the problem. But if you respond compassionately but spend a sizeable amount of time afterwards in your own head ruminating over how you used to think B was a really good person? ...then you're just a normal human being with a moral compass. Tumblr is the latter and not the former. It's the collection of dumping grounds for people's thoughts, not an online forum that give you a measure of where people's priorities are.

[cowboylikeyouu]

made a wincest post so obv i'm the devil now

woke up to this in my dms (alongside 10+ people harassing me in my ask box but that's a different story). they were nice about it, so i explained to them that yes, i am proship, meaning i'm anti-harassment etc. etc. you know the drill, but don't actually ship much controversial stuff bc it's not rlly my thing, but i am starting to enjoy wincest quite a bit. so far so good

oH nO random mutual i interacted with once, don't leave me :(((( not but seriously, i don't ever mind people blocking me, if it gives you peace of mind go ahead, it's much better than insulting me!!! i just find hilarious that you have to announce it AND be all dramatic about it like fym aLL tHaT jOy WaS KiLLeD... what joy, we literally talked ONCE ??

i was like "okay that's fine, sorry for being anti-harassment" and couldn't help throwing in a good old "make sure to never consume any media that portrays any crime ever if you don't wanna look like a hypocrite!!" in hindsight, my mistake, should've just called it a day but man i've had too much of this bullshit today already, i had to

the usual bullshit, what else can i say

why are we putting literal crimes in a "least to most acceptable ranking"😭😭 they're all unacceptable irl what's your point?

guys did you know we were only allowed to read stuff that we would want to engage in irl???

you don't like it up the ass??? don't you dare read a fic where your favorite character bottoms.

you don't like men?? gotta stay away from these creatures in media altogether.

you don't want to eat other people?? why the fuck are you watching hannibal then, how dare you!!

i think this is easily one of the silliest arguments i've ever seen an anti make, and i can admire that.

anyways, then they told me that i "shouldn't be this dumb at my grown age of 19" and that they hope i grow up, and after i was like "go ahead and block me then" at least 5 times, they finally did.

The End.

[nolita-fairytale]

give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot

summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.

Today 2:21 pm

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch. 

You: Hurry, baby. 

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?

Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing. 

It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you. 

You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan 

Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. 

“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks. 

“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face. 

“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”

*

3:03 pm

“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door. 

He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want. 

What you need, may be the better description. 

It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only: 

To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place. 

“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss. 

Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here. 

He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil. 

And in his defense, you have.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”

He’s not wrong. 

You should be working. 

But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’

“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him. 

Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.

Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex. 

Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.

“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.

“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.

This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.

He’s starting to get used to this. 

And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it. 

Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout. 

Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life. 

So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.

“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses. 

“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly. 

He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours. 

"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life. 

“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind. 

“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him. 

Please.

Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams. 

How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want? 

Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”

Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.

As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink. 

“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh. 

You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours. 

“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses. 

“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice. 

His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink. 

Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle. 

“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues. 

“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap. 

He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.

He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts. 

“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts. 

“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny. 

“Yeah?”

By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor. 

“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower. 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts. 

You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends. 

Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you. 

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are. 

“Fuck, honey.”

“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you. 

"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky. 

"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already. 

It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out. 

"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”

"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything. 

“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”

Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of. 

He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:

"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?" 

You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever. 

In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him. 

Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times. 

“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”

“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit. 

“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking. 

“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this. 

You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long. 

Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel. 

Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you. 

His wife. 

The mother of his child. 

The love of his life. 

You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together. 

He’s perfect. 

This is perfect. 

It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day. 

“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious. 

"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you. 

"More." 

"More?" 

He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace. 

"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:

“I want to make you a daddy." 

His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said. 

"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again. 

“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace. 

You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you. 

The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him. 

You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips. 

"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.

You’ll give him anything to get what you want. 

Even if it means saying it again. 

“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him. 

“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up. 

He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want. 

He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms. 

“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit. 

He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart. 

You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close. 

“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong. 

And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses. 

Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly. 

“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you. 

“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you. 

You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms. 

“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth. 

You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words. 

“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order. 

It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one. 

“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him. 

He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower. 

And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again. 

*

“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting. 

Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly. 

He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately…. 

“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story. 

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately. 

“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie. 

Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh. 

It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.

Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build. 

“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”

“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail. 

“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”

[echoed-salvation]

Watching a certain subsect of manhwa-only fans reduce yoo sangah to a "love interest waifu" character is so frustrating because it literally goes against the entire point of her character. She's been trying her whole life to escape the expectations put on her just because she's a conventionally attractive woman. She went against her family's wishes for her to marry rich and got a job to become independent, only to face harassment and sexism in her male-dominated workplace. She is frequently objectified and pushed to be appealing to the male gaze. Even kim dokja initially thinks of her as less of a person and more of an archetype. Yoo sangah is a woman trying to forge her own identity within a patriarchal society that will never see her for who she truly is.

I think it says something about the way we consume media that we always assume that an attractive female character who plays a particular role in the male mc's life must be a romantic interest - that most of the fandom discussions of yoo sangah I've seen are about whether she and kdj are going to get together romantically and that so many of us complain about being "tricked" into thinking that they are when their canon relationship remains entirely platonic by the end of the novel. When yoo sangah is close to kim dokja we expect the development of a romance between the two. If a woman is close with a man then we think that's the only option for their relationship. We are taught to see female characters not as their own people, but rather mere objects for men.

[sanguineterrain]

Hii so for the requests if this is too dark please just ignore 💜 how about jason x reader with "[ BACKUP ]   sender calls receiver panicking after committing a crime" where maybe reader gets assaulted and in self-defense kills the criminal and is panicking and calling jason because she knows he can help her and is the only one who won't judge her. Thank you for considering 💖

hey anon! i really liked this prompt, not to worry. it reminded me of that scene in the punisher when amy shoots the guy, but frank "kills" him, so i ended up incorporating that here 😅 thanks for requesting!

i also combined this with another request i got for the prompt "hide. hide now." with jason bc i felt they went well together :)

jason todd x gn!reader | tw: gun violence. reader shoots a man whose intention is to harm them. panic attack, blood. you are in charge of the media you consume! | 843 words

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

You don't know how you get back to your apartment. All you can hear is your pounding heartbeat and the footsteps of one of Two Face's men.

You shouldn't have been out this late. You shouldn't have been out alone. So many shouldn'ts run through your mind.

"Run all you want! I know where you live now, snitch! You ain't making it out tonight!"

You take the stairs two at a time, tripping over your feet. Sweat pours down your face. Your chest is tight with fear.

"Yoo-hoo," the goon sing-songs. "Where are ya, birdie?"

You unlock your phone and duck into the laundry room. Quickly, you pull out your phone and tap on your first contact.

"Todd."

"Jason," you whisper. The phone shakes in your grip.

"What's wrong?" he asks, instantly on alert.

"There's a—I was—I'm at home. I-I didn't know where else to go. Two Face's guy saw me, he chased me—"

"I'm on my way. Are you inside?"

"In... in the laundry room... Jay, I'm so scared."

"I know, I know, it's okay. I'll be there in two minutes. Go to your apartment and lock it. There's a gun taped behind the pantry cabinet. Don't hang up."

"I don't remember buying a—"

"I put it there. Go."

You don't even have the thought to be mad; Jason has always been protective of you, and right now, it might be the only thing that'll keep you alive.

"You there?" he asks as you stumble on your feet to your apartment.

"Al-almost—"

"I know you're up here, snitch!" the goon shouts from two floors below.

You gasp and nearly break your key in the lock. But you manage to get it open and lock it behind you, just how Jason ingrained in you to do. You find the gun exactly where he said it is.

"Okay. I have it. Jason, I've never—"

"I know. Listen to me—shit—okay, you see the safety? You remember what I taught you about taking the safety off?"

"Yeah, y-yeah." You take the safety off. The gun is heavy, way heavier than you remember it being when Jason had shown you how to fire it in a field outside of town.

"Alright. Now take the gun and hide. Hide now."

"Where? Jason, he's coming—" You're crying now, face slick with sweat and tears.

"Listen to me. I'm three blocks away. I will be there, okay? I won't let him do shit to you. Go to the bathroom and lock it. Be careful with the gun. Finger off the trigger."

You walk on jellied legs, half-stumbling to the bathroom. You do what he says and press yourself against the tub, gun under your palm. Your phone is on your other side.

"You still there?" he asks. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"I'm here. I think he's—"

You flinch hard as your apartment door splinters. You cover your mouth to hide your cries. The light is off, but you doubt this is the first time this guy's hunted someone in their apartment.

You hear the squeal of tires through the phone. Jason's close; he'll be here soon, he'll—

The bathroom door tears from its hinges. The doorknob makes a hole in the wall.

You don't think.

The shot is louder than you expect, and your ears ring from the sound. Blood splatters on your bathroom tiles. The goon hits the floor with a shout.

"Oh my God, oh my God," you babble, still squished against the tub.

"You bitch!" the goon shouts, blood bubbling from his mouth.

Jason runs in then. He quickly kicks the goon's gun away and steps on his chest when the goon tries to get up. Jason cocks his gun in warning.

"Stay down, shithead," he snarls.

"I killed him," you say, tears flooding your eyes. "I didn't mean to—I didn't—"

Jason kneels in front of you and gently takes the gun from you. You look at him, stomach rolling.

"I killed him," you say again, cringing as the goon yells in pain.

Jason shakes his head. "No. Hey, you didn't kill him. You defended yourself. You just shot him, okay? See, look—"

He fires a single bullet without looking. The goon is instantly silent. You wince.

"Okay? You didn't kill him. I killed him. Me. Not you."

You whimper, face falling into Jason's chest. He holds you tightly.

"I was so scared, but I didn't want to—I thought he was gonna—"

"Shh, shh. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay? I got you. You did good. You defended yourself. It was you or him and you made the right choice."

"Don't leave," you cry, clinging to Jason's tactical vest.

He squeezes you tighter, shielding you from the body.

"I'm not going anywhere. I got you, sweetheart. Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

You sit like that for a long time, Jason whispering gentle reassurances in your ear as you cry into his chest.

"I promise you'll never be in this situation again," he whispers when your cries have become sniffles. "I swear."

[hadesoftheladies]

actually, I DID have gender dysphoria as a teenage girl without being exposed to anything about it on the internet, on top of "racial dysphoria" and body dysmorphia

there were points I DID want to kill myself because i wasn't, or bleach my skin or change my body, i would have done anything to be a white boy at one point

which is both sad and funny to me because i remember two of my then good friends explain being enby and transgender to me and me being like "that doesn't make any sense" and it's because of trans-discourse we eventually broke up. the closest i ever got to accepting trans-ideology was transmedicalism with weak support for "queer" culture. i did not understand pronouns, but i understood dysphoria. but i did not understand how one could be a man or woman without the sex characteristics.

how did i heal?

one, i left church. that was one of the places i was most scrutinized for my physical body. two, i distanced from my parents, especially my mom. who often made my ocd and body-image worse (not because she was mean, but because she was always fretting about "decency"). three, i focused on bettering my personal space. writing, reading, watching my comfort shows, getting the focus off me. four, i started eating better, and my body became less burdensome. i stopped getting horrible period pain. five, i surrounded myself with self-confident women and stopped trying to resurrect toxic friendships with girls and boys (especially boys). started eliminating each toxic friend and focusing my efforts on healthier relationships. six, i'd started educating myself on my own history, watching and listening to more black and African people. even when i didn't enjoy what they made or resonate with it, i found i appreciated the experience and could allow myself to hate or love whatever i found.

by the time i discovered radical feminism, this was like, the final step for me: consuming women-centric literature and media. this was HUGE. i'd see paintings and photography of women in all shapes, colors and sizes. i'd listen to master musicians, read women philosophers, anthropologists, etc. this started mending a lot of what caused initial disquiet when it came to my dysphoria or dysmorphia.

basically, i took myself out of bad environments (especially those which force you to scrutinize every detail about yourself, like social media, i took long breaks from that), drew boundaries with people i couldn't get rid of, learned about myself (ocd, dyscalculia, anxiety, female biology) so that i developed understanding and could empathize, stopped centering men and white people.

now, while there's still a hint or trace of dysmorphia and dysphoria, it doesn't plague my life. it's like the occasional itch. more of a mild temptation to go down a dark hole than an actual threat. and i've learned how to handle those.

i learned the root of things. not just my history, but the root of how society worked and how it affected me. and i'm still learning, and my life is still improving.

so yeah, girls and women going through this is normal and common. anyone who is used to who they are being shameful is more at risk (like gnc lgb kids), but you can recover. usually better if you get out of the places that are making you sick.

[sickly-sapphic]

Decided to migrate my insta posts over to tumblr as well!! 🪻🌻 (I also have an intersex-focused discord server welcome to all - dm for link)

[ID:

Purple and yellow heart illusion background for all slides. Reads: Unpacking Your Intersexism

Step One: How You Imagine Intersex People

When you think of an intersex person, or an intersex body, what do you envision? Is it an assumption of their characteristics and anatomy? Does it group ALL intersex people into one tiny box?

Intersex people come in a variety of shapes, colours and genders. Some may look exactly like a woman or man, some may function one way but look the other, some are a mixed bowl. Stop creating a poster child for what an intersex person looks like!!

Step Two: How You Use Intersex People

Have you ever heard yourself say something like "intersex people are proof of nonbinary/trans peoples existance!" or "kids never get surgery/hormones!" or used the existance of intersex people to fight/disprove or otherwise argue with transphobes? Stop!

Intersex people are more then just a shield for your arguements. Intersex people are not "proof" that trans or nonbinary people exist, trans and nonbinary people are the proof they exist!! Not only are you failing to acknowledge intersex people as people, youre doing a disservice to trans and nonbinary people!!

Alongside this, medical abuse is a common trauma in the intersex community. Many people are forcibly sterilised, have surgeries performed on them as newborns, and are covertly given medications or hormones to "fix" their intersex characterstics as children and even into adulthood.

Step Three: How You Relate To Intersex People

Ever hear someone say something along the lines of "well I'm Technically intersex now that I've taken HRT", "intersex people are biologically nonbinary", "I want to transition into intersex" or "this animal with mixed/changing characterstics is trans!" ? These are common misconceptions.

Taking HRT does not make you "biologically intersex", it makes you someone taking HRT, in the same way that taking birth control doesn't mean you're now infertile. In the same way, you cannot transition into an intersex person. You may have ambiguous, androgynous or mixed transition goals - and that's completely fine! But intersex is not the term you're looking for (try altersex!)

Intersex people and animals are not "technically" or "biologically" nonbinary or transgender, they're intersex. While some intersex people may identify with the term nonbinary, or even consider themselves a cis nonbinary person, not every single intersex person is nonbinary, nor does every single way being intersex presents itself look like what you're percieving as a "biologically nonbinary" body.

Step Four: How You Treat Intersex People

Think to yourself - are you asking invasive questions (such as their variation or anatomy)? Are you including intersex people in your queer activism or art? Are you consuming intersexist media, or media that fetishises intersex bodies?

Intersex people NEVER owe you any information on their condition. You are not owed their anatomical features, their intersex variations, their hormone levels or their chromosomes. You should not be asking if they're infertile, whether they can have sex, or any other invasive question.

While not ALL intersex people identify with the queer community, many do. If you create queer art, merchandise or anything else created with queer symbols and flags - are you including intersex people? If not, why? Do you acknowledge how bills will affect intersex people, or do you call them collateral damage? Are you lifting up intersex voices, or pushing them out of queer spaces?

Step Five: (Mis)Using Intersexist Terminology

Do you use h*rmaphrodite to refer to intersex people? Do you identify with TME/TMA, or force it on others? Do you use AMAB or AFAB as a catchall to mean "people with a perisex, non-transitioned male body" and "people with a perisex, non-transitioned female body"?

Firstly, h*rmaphrodite is a slur used against intersex people All The Time. Some intersex people may self-identify with it, but it is Not what you should be calling intersex people, nor should other intersex people use it on those who don't identify with it.

TME and TMA, or transmisogyny exempt and transmisogyny affected, completely fail to acknowledge the existance of intersex people. The terms are meant to refer to "AMAB" nonbinary and transfeminine people (TMA), vs. "AFAB" nonbinary, transmasculine people, and cis people (TME). However, many intersex people may experience transmisogyny due to how they appear, such as intersex men with typically feminine characterstics or intersex women with typically masculine characterstics. Transmen, nonbinary people of all shapes, people of colour and gender non-conforming people may ALSO experience what some may call "misdirected transmisogyny" due to how they present, but that's a whole other story."

AMAB (assigned male at birth) and AFAB (assigned female at birth) are not catch-alls for typically male or typically female experiences. Some people who are AMAB have typically female anatomy, hormones or life experiences, some are going to need "female" healthcare. Some people who are AFAB have typically male anatomy, hormones or life experiences, some are going to need "male" healthcare. AMAB does not mean "person with a penis", AFAB does not mean "person with a vagina" nor does it mean "person with tits" or "person with a period/capable of pregnancy". When you are making your info post or your sex ed posts, use specific language. It's not AMAB, it's "people with testes", "people with erections". It's not AFAB, it's "people with ovaries", "people with periods", "people with tits" (I cannot stress enough how much AMAB people can have tits).

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