#sex test

[liberalsarecool]

Context.

[ever-so-slightly-monstrous]

If you're outraged/confused by the controversy surrounding Imane Khelif and Lin Yu-Ting and sex testing at the Olympics (why are they allowed to do it, why are they allowed to release the results to the public, etc), then I cannot recommend enough listening to the short run podcast Tested, hosted by Rose Eveleth. The series goes into when sex testing in Olympic Women's sports started (hint: literally the moment women were allowed to compete), why it started, how it's done, the ways in which is has been challenged, put down, then comes back as if nothing has changed, and how it has destroyed the careers and lives of numerous athletes who are disproportionately dark skinned women from the global South. It cannot be overstated the role racism plays in who gets tested.

Again, that's Tested, which can be listened to here or on pretty much any podcatcher.

[bilaudad]

(I'm bad at social media haha just starting to get the hang of discord and I forget tumblr)

apologies for my pro-smoking propaganda lol in my defense:

1. they're immortal ethereal/occult beings who could probably miracle away cancerous cells the instant they detect the imperfectly copied DNA

2. i like it

[just-french-me-up]

#48 for the ask prompts! ❤️

N°8 : A kiss out of habit

Now buckle up for a Dreamling Green Knight AU ! I had to fist fight myself not to go overboard with this!

It had caught Hob off guard, on the first day. The lady of the castle giving him a kiss had had him dread the return of her lord husband, for they had agreed to exchange the day's earnings, and what else had there been to trade, but the kiss he had been given?

The lord had accepted it, stoic against Hob's trembling lips. In return, Hob had been given a story, a tale of the lord's invention that day. His mind worked beautifully, and Hob had watched his lips as they gave life to unearthly tales, drinking each word in like sweet wine.

On the second day, the lady's kisses had gone from surprising to intriguing. Hob had passed them on that very evening, the lord's scent now familiar as their noses had brushed together, trading breath for breath. The lord had been less stoic then. Hob could remember the knock of his heart against his chest as the lord had pressed his lips to his, opening Hob's mouth into something beyond transactional. Less chaste.

Hob had paid little attention to the lord's tale, that night. He had pretended to, of course, nodding his head, interjecting here or there, but his attention had wandered elsewhere. In the sharp line of his host's jaw. In the pale shade of his eyes, where the flames of the fireplace seemed to burn brighter still. He had itched to kiss him again, feel that fervor again. Patience. They had agreed on three nights, hadn't they?

On the third day, the lady's kisses had become a habit. Hob had expected them. Hoped for them. The poor woman's advances remained unanswered, Hob politely refusing anything further. All he could think about was the evening, when the lord would find him and ask for his earnings.

But the lord was late.

Night had fallen, dinner had been served, eaten, plates taken away, and there was no sign of the lord of the castle.

When the hour had become unreasonable, Hob retired to his bedchamber, pacing the fine floors. The morning would see him leave his hosts' care, for he had agreed to meet the Green Knight at the green chapel. He would die then, he was sure of it. A blow for a blow. He would die without having given the lord his due. How could he bear it?

Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Hob approached it, apprehension and hope both tugging at his stomach. Could it be the lord? Or his wife, seeking him out to attempt to seduce him once more, in her husband's absence?

Standing at the threshold was his host, his black hair slightly damp. His clothes were perfectly dry, but Hob noticed the mud on his shoes. He must have come here straight away, he told himself, far from indifferent to the implications.

"Apologies," the lord said. "My duties have kept me away longer than I realised."

"I thought so," Hob lied.

"I could send for a servant to rekindle the fire in the hall, so we may trade there."

"The household has gone to bed," Hob countered smoothly, keen on the idea of them there, alone. "Let us not disturb them. Perhaps we may conduct our trade here?"

He stepped back, showing the inside of his chambers. The lord seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed to follow Hob in, closing the door behind them. There they stood. Alone. Hob swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they were. They had stood close before, as one must when kissing another, but this felt... intimate. Illicit, almost, in the most intoxicating way.

"Well?" the lord asked. "What have you earned today, Ser Gadling?"

Without a word, Hob inched closer, his hands behind his back. The lord did not flinch at he leant forward, meeting his lips in a slow embrace. They came apart in a soft sigh, the lord's eyes fluttering open as Hob leant back.

"What else?" his host asked, almost as a challenge.

The second kiss was more daring, earning Hob a few more sighs. He held the lord's chin as his tongue brushed his, hunger pooling at the pit of his stomach, but he stopped himself, pulling back. The man was flushed now, his back almost to the door. Hob could not say he disliked the sight. If anything, it called to him, wild thoughts sprouting in his mind of how else he'd like to see this lord, pretty pink mouth and all.

"Is this how this earning was given to you?" the man whispered. He did not sound angry. He didn't even sound curious, really. Only wanting.

"No," Hob's thumb trailed from his chin to his lower lip, tracing the plump, glistening flesh there, hot breath blowing in his skin, threatening to undo him. "This is how you shape it."

"This was not in the rules," the lord pointed out, though he did not move. If anything, Hob could have sworn he was closer. "Is this all?"

"Not quite."

The third kiss was ravenous, Hob pouring his longing and desires into the embrace, pushing the lord against the door until their bodies were entwined, hands grasping for more, pulling fabric as though to meld them together. They were both out of breath by the time they pulled back, lips inches apart.

"I must be gone in the morning," Hob rasped. "I fear I won't come back. I shall meet my end there."

The lord observed him, almost intrigued.

"Stay," Hob asked, on the verge of begging.

"The trade―"

"Tell me your story in the morning, before dawn. Close the trade then. Stay."

"I can not, for you must receive my end of the bargain tonight."

Hob shook his head, desperate to keep him close.

"Keep it. I do not want it. I want you."

Slowly, the man raised a hand to Hob's hair, cupping the back of his head, and kissed his forehead.

"Have I ever told you my name, Hob?"

Hob stared at him, at a loss. Now that he mentioned it...

"No. You haven't."

"I am Dream, Prince of Stories. Such is the nature of my offering, tonight."

Hob frowned, confused. Prince? His host had always had a regal flair to him, but he could never have imagined...

"Dream? You're offering me a dream? How?"

"It hardly matters."

Dream's hand fell from Hob's hair to his cheek, his caress soft, but clearly meant to break the tension between them.

"Go to bed, Hob Gadling. Close your eyes, give yourself to sleep. I may visit you in more ways that one."

Hob pressed Dream's hand to his cheek, refusing to let go. Such promises could not be. The body against his was flesh and bones, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, trying to burn the touch into his memory, the warmth of his skin. By the time he opened his eyes, the lord was gone, as though he'd vanished into thin air, and he was left cradling his own hand, empty.

Hob stared at the door, dejected. Now that he was alone, what else was there to do but lie in bed, waiting for the morning of his death? How could he sleep, knowing where he was headed? Yet curiosity wormed its way through his despair, making him glance back at the bed waiting for him.

He was to be given a dream. One last dream. And his host had ever been gifted at telling stories. How could he refuse him?

Send me a kissing prompt?

[smoshcentral]

ABANDON YOUR GODS!

SMOSHCENTRAL | TOP CHARACTERS Mr. Grub

[fallout-lou-begas]

i think people get anxious about sex being something you can be good or bad at because it can obviously make people feel ashamed or embarrassed if they think they're "bad" at something that can be very intimate and vulnerable, but it should instead come as a relief that (at least in my view) being "good" at sex is maybe like 5% pure physical ability at absolute maximum and is 95% being communicative, attentive, and creative as a sex partner, especially as it pertains to treating people as individuals with their unique and bespoke preferences for and against certain things, and not assuming everybody is the same obstacle course that you can just do your single, so-called optimal route through. and as for that 5% of pure physical ability, it's not so much raw awesome fuck strength and power as it is the ability to maintain a consistent rhythm with literally any part of your body (or object that you are holding or operating, including technological ones that can maintain that rhythm for you!). i also think that people who get anxious about being "bad" at sex may have a particularly rigid view of what sex is in their minds, an ideal that they think that they couldn't possibly live up to (and no one else probably could, either!), that they could do to let go of, because the world is very large and beautiful and truly anything is possible.

[justaz]

merlin who stands against the wall while uther reprimands arthur, who stands behind arthur at dinners where uther’s disapproval and disappointment is apparent, who has been there when arthur is quiet and despondent after private meetings with his father, who has watched for years the sting of uther’s words and sometimes hands against his own son, who has bit his tongue and followed arthur with gentle hands and softer words as he puts the pieces back together of the man he knows and loves.

merlin watching uther lose his temper over arthur going against him for their people and watching arthur crawl into himself and shove his feelings down to be the emotionless prince his father expects of him. once uther’s rage has quelled somewhat, he dismisses arthur without another look and arthur leaves, his back ramrod straight and his chin held high despite the glazed look in his eyes, his last shot at keeping his composure. and merlin breaks, he glares at uther and waits until the doors shut to speak, in case arthur was close enough to hear.

merlin rants and raves at uther, calls him out on his bs, and tells him to be there for his son. ofc uther isn’t having any of it and yells back at merlin but merlin isn’t deterred and keeps going on and on about how much of a disappointment uther is as a father and how much better arthur deserves. uther steps in close and raises his hand as if to backhand merlin but he doesn’t. the two stare at each other, heated glare meeting heated glare, and finally uther mutters that he should have merlin flogged for speaking like that to him. merlin doesn’t waver as he welcomes uther too but he couldn’t just stand by and watch uther tear arthur apart anymore.

uther slowly lowers his hand and turns his back on merlin but he hasn’t given in to merlin’s argument so he switches tactics. he asks how uther expects arthur to be the sure, determined, and just king he is meant to be if uther won’t let him grow into his power and autonomy, let him learn his lessons and apply them as king. uther finally lowers his shoulders at merlin’s argument which just irks him more as uther clearly cares more for arthur as a future king rather than a son but he doesn’t point that out.

uther turns to stare at merlin and asks if he really just disrespected the king so horribly just for arthur, merlin nods once without hesitation and echoes “for arthur”. uther’s lips twitch despite himself and he nods and says how he is glad arthur has someone like merlin looking out for him. merlin tests his luck once more and responds that arthur could have more than just him, he could have a dad, not just a father.

merlin watches as arthur reports back to his father the next week about an expedition they had gone on to protect one of camelot’s outlying villages from raiders and uther grins wide and pulls arthur into an awkward side hug that’s more a complicated pat on his shoulder but at least it’s something. uther says openly how he’s proud and that camelot should feel lucky to have a prince who is looking out for her.

arthur is stunned and manages a slight bow to his father as he leaves (merlin and uther exchanging a glance and nod as he passes). merlin watches arthur as the room empties and a wide, proud smile stretches across his face. merlin feels warm and fuzzy at the sight and chuckles as arthur spins and pulls merlin into a similar side hug while laughing loudly. the two of them have the most fun that day, spending the rest of the daylight goofing off and running around with no particular goal in mind other than enjoying the day. it’s the happiest merlin has seen arthur be for such a long period of time.

[catherine-sketches]

In a alternate universe somewhere Charles Xavier meets a man named Fester while he is sent as a little kid to the psych ward by his mother, whose mind is as insane as everyone inside the building but it’s paradoxically the calmest and most fascinating mind he has ever felt in his short life and he learns that he man is there ON VACATION of all things and he realizes that “no I’m not insane the voices are other people’s thoughts” way quicker with Fester’s help and he is kidnapped/adopted into the Addams clan where he and his telepathy flourishes

He comes back to the mansion at some point. Kurt Marko dies of mysterious circumstances. Sharon Xavier is… gently persuaded by a very convincing Morticia to hand over the custody of Charles. Cain and Pugsley become friends somehow and Cain learns the joys of dynamite.

They go live in the Xavier Mansion as a collective family vacation/ family trip/ family acclimation for Charles.

Then one day he meets a blue little girl in the kitchen and knows instantly that her and Wednesday are going to go so well together like a house on fire

And life is good

Than First Class happens and Erik is not ready for Charles Addams Xavier, he just isn’t

[kacievvbbbb]

While I do so love the image of Mihawk as a blushing virgin bride bashful about all things sex and PDA. I cannot lie to myself.

This is a man that takes off his shirt to put on his jacket before heading outside. He has never known shame a day in his life.

[ourladyofomega]

📷 source: Wax Trax! Records (FB)

[captainhysunstuff]

15 more images below the cut (WARNING: VERY SUGGESTIVE SAUCY SHENANIGANS. Censored a bit. Long story short: They're about to screw, but they run into a couple snags due to inexperience):

Kira and L try to consummate their new partnership... but they're kind of new at this. After doing the approved research, they figure it out much to the chagrin to the hotel workers.

This is the "Safe for Tumblr" cut~.

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[keighthundred]

taylor hebert be like: "rachel we have to scissor and kiss sloppy style, it's the only way to stop jack"

[herrlichersonnigertag]

Do the tumblrinas know about Le Nozze di Figaro (1786, Mozart/Da Ponte)

[sualne]

modern au stats, fellas' relationships with the good ol' horizontal tango.

EDIT: it's sex indifferent not neutral.

[aeriondripflame]

elia martell & lyanna stark & the yellow wallpaper.

the yellow wallpaper, charlotte perkins gilman. snow white & the huntsman (2012). the outpost (2018-2021).

[m0llygunn]

thinking about this version of eddie that I wrote and never posted who was so dumb and accidentally came inside and then tried to scoop it out </3