all the rights that come with marriage you should be able to have without marriage btw. you should be able to designate a person who can visit you in the hospital regardless of your relationship to that person.
Back in the day I worked at a certain very famous and very high caste art museum in the US as a junior curator. Part of my job was to catalog the objects in the museum database. This includes details like provenance, measurements, and a visual description of what the object looked like.
Like I said, the museum was a pretty snotty institution. It’s got a LOT of objects it’s way famous for possessing, but nobody knew about the absolutely massive collection of Moche erotic pottery it had because the curators were totally embarrassed by this stuff.
Some examples:
Pretty hot shit, right? They never, ever put any of this stuff on public view or published it in any catalogues but - we legit had like several hundred pieces of Moche ceramics in the “dirty pots” category. Anyway, I was left alone to just do my job with regard to the database for several years, ok? And I figured, well, these’re accessioned objects in the museum’s collection - better get down to bidness.
I catalogued every goddamn bestiality, necrophiliac, cocksucking, buttfucking, detached penis, and giant vulva drinking cup in that collection. I’d be like,
A drinking vessel in form of a standing man wearing a tunic and cap. He holds an oversized erection in his hands and stares into the distance (note I did not say “like he’s hella-constipated”). The vessel has a hole at both the tip of the penis as well as around the rim of the figure’s head, thus forcing the drinker to drink only from the penis or risk spilling wine all over themselves from the top of the vessel. Red and orange slip covers the surface of the piece.
Pretty straightforward, right? Apparently the deep seated fear of these objects that the curators exhibited was meant to spread to me as well, but - no one ever gave me that memo, because I guess Midwesterners reproduce asexually. When the curators understood that I had catalogued all of these objects in addition to the other, non-sexy pieces in the collection, they were apparently livid, but knew they had no legs to stand on in terms of getting pissed at me for it.
I visited the museum’s online public access database a few years back and - every single description I wrote of these pieces has been totally neutered to say something like Male figural vase.
Long story short? Just call a dildo a fucking dildo. It’s all gonna be ok, I swear.
Museums should have sections dedicated to artifacts like these with a warning that says “There’s a lot of private parts in here but we’re dedicated to displaying history so we won’t censor these. Enter at your own risk” or something. It’s prudish to deliberately hide history because of some ding dongs.
[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'JK Rowling posted upskirt photos of a woman on Twitter' to Cas 'I love you'. /End ID]
No one doing this should be allowed to call themselves a feminist.
The wealthy author escalated a social media spat that resulted in posting a photo from a 2023 event at the Institute of Economic Affairs in
Let's not beat around the bush: Children's author JK Rowling sexually harassed someone. In some jurisdictions, this would count as sexual abuse. JK Rowling has committed a sex crime against a woman and fell back on the old rape apologist standby of "she was asking for it".
it's a good thing when someone shoots up with a clean needle.
it's a good thing when someone carries Narcan, whether they use drugs themselves or not.
it's a good thing when someone switches from using laced drugs to clean drugs.
it's a good thing when someone starts using only one drug at a time.
it's a good thing when someone goes on medication assisted treatment like suboxone, methadone, or amphetamines.
it's a good thing when someone reduces their spending on substances, or the frequency of their drug use.
it's a good thing when someone gets regular tests for STIs.
it's a good thing when someone is using with friends instead of using alone.
people who use drugs don't have to be abstinent to take better care of ourselves. any positive change we make around our substance use should be encouraged and accepted, never stigmatized or dismissed!
Queering the Map is a community generated counter-mapping platform for digitally archiving LGBTQ2IA+ experience in relation to physical space.
The platform provides an interface to collaboratively record the cartography of queer life—from park benches to the middle of the ocean—in order to preserve our histories and unfolding realities, which continue to be invalidated, contested, and erased. From collective action to stories of coming out, encounters with violence to moments of rapturous love, Queering the Map functions as a living archive of queer life.
Through mapping LGBTQ2IA+ experience in its intersectional permutations, the project works to generate affinities across difference and beyond borders — revealing the ways in which we are intimately connected.
A little Jacket Verse Part 3 to start your weekend. Smut under the cut
Tommy watches as Sal grabs Evan's wrist and tugs him into his lap. Evan throws his long legs fluidly over Sal's thighs as he settles, slipping one arm around his shoulders as Sal's arm wraps around his waist. It's the same kind of practiced ease he and Evan had built together during their relationship and it makes the jealousy he's been fighting all night rear its ugly head and roar. Sal's lips brush across Evan's jaw as blue eyes lock with his, hot and heavy.
"Why are you still all the way over there?"
--*--
A shiver runs up Buck's spine as Sal presses a feather light kiss to the sensitive place right below his ear and one of his hand slips beneath the hem of his shirt. The rough drag of callouses across his hipbone have him shifting, grinding down against the bulge starting to grow against his ass.
"Why are you still all the way over there?"
Buck opens his eyes, he's not even sure when he closed them, and looks across the coffee table at Tommy. He's still in the arm chair he settled in after dinner, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer bottle, looking half turned on and half pissed. A muscle in his jaw twitches when their eyes meet. Buck smiles at him and reaches out a hand.
"C'mere Daddy."
The bottle clacks loudly against the wood of the table and Tommy stands. For half a second, Buck worries that something has gone horribly wrong and that he's going to walk out. But then Tommy's mouth is on his, two fingers under his chin, lifting Buck's face to the angle he wants. It's like coming home and Buck's chest aches with the rush of emotions it brings. Sal's hand runs up his spine and he groans softly against Tommy's lips, pressing back into the touch.
Tommy grabs his waist, pulling until Buck is straddling him, his knees digging into the cushions on either side of his hips. Buck breaks the kiss and lays his forehead against Tommy's, rubs a thumb over his cheek.
"This isn't a tug-of-war," He reminds him gently. "There's no competition."
Tommy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, rubbing small circles into Buck's hips with his thumbs, the nods. When his eyes open again, they're dark with want. He turns and grabs Sal by the back of the neck, pulling him in for rough kisses, their teeth clacking with the force of it. Buck can see their tongues battling against each other and it might be the hottest thing he's ever witnessed in his life. He moans and rolls his hips down against Tommy's, seeking friction. He thinks he could get off just watching them, he could be perfectly content just rubbing himself on Tommy's thigh if it meant they let him see. Sal pulls away first, gasping.
"Bedroom." His voice has taken that low tone that makes Buck want to drop his pants then and there. He wants to surge forward and devour him, or maybe be devoured. A sharp slap to his ass makes him yelp. "Now."
Buck scrambles to get up, nearly tripping over Tommy's feet in his hurry. Someone huffs out a laugh and he starts to pout, but a thumb presses against his lower lip instead.
"Always so eager," Tommy teases. Buck opens his lips and brushes his tongue over the pad of his thumb then sucks. Tommy groans. "Fuck, sweetheart."
"That's the plan." Buck grabs his hand and tugs him down the hall, his eyes flicking between Tommy's grin and Sal stalking after them, already pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
When they get into his bedroom, they're a tangle of limbs trying to get each other undressed as quickly as possible. Fingers knock together and tangle over buttons and zippers, Buck gets trapped in his t-shirt because two sets of hands are trying to yank it off at different angles.
"Maybe we should keep him like this," Sal murmurs as he struggles in their grasps. "Make his guess what's coming to him."
And fuck if that idea drive him crazy. Buck moans, fighting harder against the fabric until one of them takes pity on him and pulls it the rest of the way over his head.
"Maybe next time," Tommy promises. Buck's heart seizes, then soars.
Next time.
Buck isn't sure who he should be looking at. He and Sal have never explicitly used the word 'boyfriend' to describe each other, but Buck has no doubts that that's what they are. Buck's eyes are immediately drawn to his thick arms, the dark hair on his chest and stomach, the was his muscles ripple as he kicks his jeans to side. But Tommy is here, too, stripping his own clothes away to reveal the tan, freckled skin underneath. Buck hasn't been able to stop looking at him, still in disbelief that he's really there. He wants those broad hands all over him, can't stop imagining him backing him up against every wall of his new house. And there are so many walls in this place.
Sal tugs Tommy to him, cupping a hand over the front of his boxers, rubbing his palm over his cock, and Tommy's head tips back with a groan, one hand sliding into Sal's hair.
It might be the single greatest thing Buck has ever seen in his life. His hand wraps around his own cock as he watches Sal and Tommy rock into each other, he sees Sal lick a rivulet of sweat off Tommy's neck and wants to kiss the taste of it off his tongue. He doesn't realize the low whine is coming from him until Sal his pulling away Tommy to smirk at him.
"Poor baby," Sal coos, looming over him. "Is no one paying attention to you?"
That hadn't been an issue at all, but Buck isn't going to complain about Sal's arms wrapping around him to move him further up the mattress so he can press Buck into the pillows. Not when Sal dips his head into curve of his neck and he can see Tommy pushing his underwear down his legs before he kneels on the bed beside them. Buck's thoughts are going soft and fuzzy with desire, but he reaches for him, reminding him that they want him here, they need him with them. Tommy shuffles closer, knocking his shoulder against Sal's as he leans in to kiss Buck and swallow up the sounds escaping his mouth.
It's almost too much to bear. Buck's had threesomes before, but never like this. Never with two people who know his body like their own, know exactly how and where to touch. The weight of Sal's body between his thighs while Tommy's teeth and tounge tease over his throat and chest has him panting and begging in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time.
"You make such pretty sounds, baby," Tommy praises, swiping his fingers through the mess Buck has made on his stomach. "So sweet for us."
Buck's brain has been too sufficiently turned to mush for him to formulate any kind of coherent response. The best he can do is moan pitifully when Sal pulls out of him, running his fingers soothingly through Buck's sweaty hair and tugging gently at the ends before turning full attention back to Tommy.
Buck takes back what he was thinking before, Sal straddling Tommy's thighs and sinking down onto his cock is the hottest thing he's ever seen. He's torn between watching their faces contort in pleasure between kisses and letting his eyes fall to where they're connected; to the strong muscles in Sal's legs rippling as he moves, Tommy's hands sliding from his hips to grip his ass. He could just watch them all night, for the rest of his life, but they're reaching for him, drawing him back to them. Buck kisses Tommy, scratching across his chest to hear the gasping moans he makes when his nails catch on a sensitive nipple. Sal isn't as sensitive as he and Tommy are, but Buck has dedicated months to learning his body and finding all the places that make him tick. He takes his time running his fingers across his ribs, over the swell of his pecs, the thick muscles in his arms, before threading them into his hair and tilting his head back to latch his lips onto his neck.
"You look so hot riding his dick," He breathes into Sal's ear, wrapping his other hand around his cock, moving tight and fast like he liked it. "Wanna see you come all over him. You want that, Tommy?"
Tommy moans, his hips jerking, and Buck grins down at him. Whatever Tommy sees in his face enough to spur him on, thrusting up hard enough that Sal loses his rhythm, giving Tommy the chance to set the pace.
"Fuck yeah, mark me up. Come on, honey, give it to me."
As he speaks, Buck sinks his teeth into the place where Sal's jaw meets his ear. Sal's body jerks violently as he comes, shooting across Tommy's chest and stomach and Buck's hand. Tommy isn't far behind him, grunting roughly as he slams Sal's hips back down against his and spilling into him.
Sal droops against Tommy's chest, foreheads pressed together for a few long seconds as they pant and exchange short, soft kisses, then lifts himself up and collapses on the mattress between them, satisfied grin streched over his face. Buck knows Sal isn't the biggest fan of post-sex snuggling, he says it's too hot right after, but he tucks himself into his side anyway, and Sal wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Buck smiles and presses a kiss to his chest, then stretches his arm over his stomach to lace his fingers with Tommy's, reveling in the soft look and brush of lips against his knuckles that he gets in return, feeling complete for the first time in his life.
They force themselves up out of bed eventually, taking turns cleaning up in the shower and digging through the dresser for clothes. All three of them move back to the living room couch, Buck in the middle this time, eating dessert straight from the dish, but not speaking, each afraid to break fragile moment of closeness between them.
"I have no idea how this could possibly work," Tommy says after a while, the soft words seeming to echo in the silence. Buck feels his heart drop, and suddenly the sweetness of the cherries taste like ashes in his mouth. But just before the pain of another heartbreak sweeps in, Tommy lifts his hand to kiss his knuckles again, stretches his other arm over the back of the couch to reach for Sal.
Yet another day of me wanting Freddie Costas to return, trying to get revenge on all the firefighters that were at the original call at the restaurant.
(Tommy! Sal! He doesn't know that Bobby has since died!! Wait, is that the kid that was trapped under the fire truck!!)
...also another day of me wanting Jonah to suddenly reappear, kidnapping the ex who managed to dump him before anyone really found out what he was capable of.
Have you learned (or are currently learning) a partner or friend's native language? (to be able to converse well, if not fluently. if so, please share in the comments!)
Have you learned (or are currently learning) a partner or friend's native language?
Ilya canonically pushes Shane against the wall during their fight in TLG. Ilya also pushes Alexei against the wall in Heated Rivalry(TV). I don't think I'm ready for those edits where it cleanly goes from one to the other.
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amandla
