Weird old lady "In maritime law, flotsam, jetsam, lagan, and derelict are specific kinds of shipwrecks..."
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well, that answers the question I had very clearly!
Okay, so I'm /actually/ about to write a porn fic to AO3, and I'm interested in knowing what the difference is between the M rating and E rating. Able to enlighten me?
Mature is ‘and then they made love.’ Explicit is 'and here’s how they did it exactly.’
To wit: mature.
He looked at the envelope, spread out before him.
God, he’d never been this hungry.
Could he be gentle enough? Slow enough? He didn’t want to damage it, didn’t want to do anything he’d regret… but no, no, it seemed the envelope wanted this as much as he did. It slipped into his hands, it folded as he asked. When it was time for more, the card was waiting, and he somehow knew exactly what to do. He moved with his correspondence in a dance as old as the mail system, and when it was over, he was smiling and the envelope was completely, thoroughly sealed.
Explicit:
The envelope waved its flap in the air slowly, gently, and he could see the faint shimmer of the adhesive traced along its fold. It was like a taunt, a dare: won’t you? And he would, oh, God, he would, lifting the envelope firmly to his lips, licking slowly at first, then faster, more firmly, tasting the envelope’s essence, the faint bitterness, the sweetness to follow–
Oh, he couldn’t help but smile at how it felt in his hands. It was so perfectly folded. Its paper was rough against his fingers, and its crossed folds shifted slightly as it opened for his eager tongue. Yes, yes…
Now the card, and his hand trembled as he lifted it, as he held the envelope, stretching it wide. Would it fit? Oh… oh, yes, it would fit, it slid in smooth and quick and filled the envelope to bursting, oh, made for each other, and he smiled in delight at how perfect it was.
He was ready. Now, now, now: with one swift movement he folded the flap over and he pressed, yes, he pressed the flap down and it stuck, God, it stuck perfectly, and he closed his eyes in bliss.
Afterwards, he stroked the envelope, and thought about addresses.
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literally the point of art
hot take apparently but i think it's good for white people to relate to poc's art. i think it's good for straight people to relate to queer art. stop acting like we're different species who could never possibly understand each other what the fuck is wrong with you
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My dad was dealing with some mixed feelings so I told him "In therapy when something is too complicated to do a simple 'pro and contra list' we sometimes do an excercise where you imagine all these mixed feelings around a table in some kind of conference, letting each tell their bit and you leading the debate."
and my dad didn't really respond and just stared ahead so I kept preparing lunch. Until a few minutes later when he suddenly piped up: "I am having a bad time at the conference"
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I just turned 43, but I have to say, trying to figure out what Skibidi Toilet was, made me feel much older.
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People really say "being forced to participate in someone's kink without consent" to mean seeing a gay dude in public. Please get real
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Good Works Chapter 5: If I Only Had the Nerve
Good Works Written by Majnoona
CW: Internalized homophobia, Historical homophobia. Poor coping skills, Minor mention of food and alcohol for comfort
Rating M for future chapters. These will be (skippable) self contained sections. Tags will be added as we get there, as well as per chapter warnings.
Summary:
It's 1987 London and anti-gay sentiment is on the rise ahead of the government's push to pass Section 28 to prohibited the "promotion of homosexuality" by local authorities -- including banning books and education in schools.
Anthony Crowley takes advantage of his past life as a cog in the government machine (but don't ask him to talk about it) and his free time due to a "complicated" current employment situation to help support the SoHo gay and lesbian community.
Meanwhile, Aziraphale Fell, current Assistant Parliamentary Secretary, has stumbled into an environmental disaster that no one seems to want to deal with -- or is a cover-up? Could the Environment Secretary even be involved? Could this really be part of Her (Margret Thatcher’s) Plan?
Why do Crowley and Fell keep running into each other -- literally? Is it just romantic fate bringing together two middle aged "confirmed bachelors" who thought it was too late to find love, or is there some other connection? Will they figure it out? (Are they sure they want to?)
Excerpt:
The streetlights were flickering on by the time Aziraphale made his way back to his neighbourhood. He swayed slightly on his feet as he waited for the light to change, stomach grumbling with a nagging emptiness. The world pushed and poked from all sides – the honking of horns, a radio blaring through an open window, faces coming in and out of focus on the busy sidewalk.
He needed a very large glass of water, would telephone for some delivery– maybe from that new Indian place– and then he was most definitely opening a bottle of wine. At the very least…
Continue reading on AO3
Or start from chapter 1 - The 24 Hour Print Shop, July 1987
Special thanks to the best first beta you could possibly hope for: On1occasionfork
@goodomensafterdark @on1occasionfork
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Gus Walz is now officially America's Kid Brother™, and if anyone so much as looks at him sideways we will burn your house down.
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Good Omens Fanfiction is like
200 pages of silent pining, tons of inner dialogue and dreaming of "featherlike to the touch-curls, glimpses of collarbones and rosy cupid-bows ...
Then finally - the first kiss! *sigh
And then 300 pages of the most uninhibited, limitless, potent and finest art of ☆uckery smut are set loose.
For closure: there will be a proposal in the epilogue. 🩷
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[Fic Book Covers 11+12/?] Integrative Approaches by Nnm / @mouseonamoose
Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma
As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following: --His clothing was expensive and stylish; --He wore very strange but noticeable cologne; --His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;” --He looked angry; --He was wearing sunglasses. What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?
Angel-Centered Therapy Through A Multicultural Lens
“I’d love to meet with you,” Davey said, apologetically, when he had been called up by a fellow looking to initiate therapy, “but I’m all booked up for months.” “Are you sure?” The fellow said, through a poor connection that crackled. Davey had been sure. And yet. Right there in his calendar was a blank spot, just a few days away, which he had somehow completely overlooked before. “How about that…I’ve got Wednesday at eleven, if you can make that work.” “What a miracle,” the fellow said, “that would be just the perfect time.”
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Does tumblr know about the animation union yaoi yet
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b
boing boing
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Wales on the One Show Episode 5 - 18/08/2024
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