There is an entire erotica sub genre about this. Don’t look up “dolcett.”

This is what Dworkin essentially argues in Intercourse. Which Rush Limbaugh read as “all sex is rape.”

Some of you realize your jobs are really unimportant

Don’t “police, teachers, garbage collectors and fireman” kinda rely on other professions to do their jobs? Why do you need to put other workers down? Pretty sure as a teacher I relied on a school bus driver to get the students to me, an HVAC guy to make sure that the building was comfortable, architects and construction workers to create the building, electricians……….

The comments you are leaving seem to me like compassion fatigue and burnout.

Wouldn’t the ideal be self hosted content made by the people hosting it? Obviously there’s no mechanical means to block people from uploading content that they don’t make, but those kinds of ethical questions and control of access can be handled by federation networks.

Decentralizing these things could lead to a better way for sex workers to work safely (SESTA/FOSTA closed up a lot of safer avenues for sex work in the US) There’s a lot of rules for trust that you can build into these systems, things like basic encryption with private and public keys.

Someone who didn’t want their content online could take it down easily. They could easily gate it - like, think about where most of the profit the actresses and actors videos go to now? If you are watching stuff for free on a website, it’s the website getting ad revenue and maybe the company. Do they get royalties? Workers should own the means of their reproduction.

CYRANO: Ah no! young blade! That was a trifle short! You might have said at least a hundred things By varying the tone. . .like this, suppose,. . .

Aggressive: ‘Sir, if I had such a nose I’d amputate it!’

Friendly: ‘When you sup It must annoy you, dipping in your cup; You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!’

Descriptive: ''Tis a rock!. . .a peak!. . .a cape! – A cape, forsooth! ‘Tis a peninsular!’

Curious: ‘How serves that oblong capsular? For scissor-sheath? Or pot to hold your ink?’

Gracious: ‘You love the little birds, I think? I see you’ve managed with a fond research To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!’

Truculent: ‘When you smoke your pipe. . .suppose That the tobacco-smoke spouts from your nose– Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rise higher, Cry terror-struck: “The chimney is afire”?’

Considerate: ‘Take care,. . .your head bowed low By such a weight. . .lest head o’er heels you go!’

Tender: ‘Pray get a small umbrella made, Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!’

Pedantic: ‘That beast Aristophanes Names Hippocamelelephantoles Must have possessed just such a solid lump Of flesh and bone, beneath his forehead’s bump!’

Cavalier: 'The last fashion, friend, that hook? To hang your hat on? ‘Tis a useful crook!’

Emphatic: ‘No wind, O majestic nose, Can give THEE cold!–save when the mistral blows!’

Dramatic: ‘When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!’

Admiring: ‘Sign for a perfumery!’

Lyric: ‘Is this a conch?. . .a Triton you?’

Simple: ‘When is the monument on view?’

Rustic: 'That thing a nose? Marry-come-up! ‘Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!’

Military: ‘Point against cavalry!’

Practical: ‘Put it in a lottery! Assuredly ‘twould be the biggest prize!’ Or. . .parodying Pyramus’ sighs. . . ‘Behold the nose that mars the harmony Of its master’s phiz! blushing its treachery!’

–Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said, Had you of wit or letters the least jot: But, O most lamentable man!–of wit You never had an atom, and of letters You have three letters only!–they spell Ass! And–had you had the necessary wit, To serve me all the pleasantries I quote Before this noble audience. . .e’en so, You would not have been let to utter one– Nay, not the half or quarter of such jest! I take them from myself all in good part, But not from any other man that breathes!

I loved Space Funeral! It feels like such a love letter to fucking around and making something unique.

It plays well with original Morrowind mods, including Tamriel Rebuit, which is fucking awesome.

That would be fun if you wanted to make a new thread!

How could you say that about my husband

Yuk. Skyrim stripped out everything that made Morrowind special. It feels more like a Ubisoft game than an RPG.

Morrowind is old and has retroRPG jank, but as long as you don’t run everywhere it’s not that hard. There’s even OpenMW if you want some modern quality of life features.

It’s really tragic that we have lost this sexual god

With a helicopter, I think you also need to be actively suicidal.

Here’s what Katie Miller is posting on Twitter.

They love war. They know the economy sucks and the president is unpopular - they are the type of people who believe the myth of the Nazi economy being good because of its war machine. They also want wars as an excuse to delay elections, at no point have they been subtle about this.

Rowling has spent tons of money petitioning the UK Supreme Court to basically make existing as a trans person in public illegal. She’s got more money than some cities do.

Like, legally, there is no where a trans man can piss in the UK. Not allowed in the women’s, not allowed in the men’s. Just got piss yourself.

It’s amazing how being an unrepentant sex pest is like a golden ticket into conservative stardom.

Reminds me how many of the “War on Science” conservative grifters crying academic freedom actually lost their jobs for fucking their students.

[Transcript]

“I think you’ve healed my ballet injuries enough for one day,” Maddie giggled, smirking. “But I do have one teeny-weeny wittle wound that could use a pounding from your Theragun,” she teased.

As their lips were about to meet, the physical therapy office door slammed open. There stood Maddie’s father, looking furious. “What the hell is this?”

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like,” Maddie stammered, her cheeks burning as bright pink as her tutu.

James stood protectively in front of Maddie, his posture tense. “We were just-”

“I know what you are…” Mr. Stevens hissed. He slammed James against the Stairmaster "Balleraggot”

James hadn’t heard that word in years. He was brought right back to PT academy, to the hate he had faced simply because of who he couldn’t help but love. As his head hit the top step of the Stairmaster, he heard all the other familiar slurs, too: nutcracker, chasse chaser, plié-wad, and even tutu-fucker. He collapsed to the ground.

“And you…” He turned to his daughter, who’d broken into tears.

"Don’t think for one fucking second that we didn’t know. That’s right, your mother knew, may she rest in peace. All those years at performing arts high school… any normal daughter would’ve healed from the occasional sprain. Imagine the shame you brought onto your chemotherapy mother when she had to explain to the Rotary Club why her daughter spent her entire senior year in PT. Throwing herself at every new physical therapist. Imagine the tears in your chemommy’s eyes when we heard you in your bedroom, firing, up your Theragun for the fifth time on one of her last nights with us.”

"Leave your daughter alone, " James bellowed, tears streaming down his face as he slowly stood up.

“She’s hardly my daughter now,” Mr. Simmons laughed derisively.

"Make me.”

“Oh, I will.” James cocked his Theragun.

The Brightest Light of Sunshine

Determined to walk away from a traumatic past, 22-year-old Grace Allen feels ready to take the next step in her healing journey—dipping a toe into the dating pool. Although she should probably start by making a friend or two, right?

Samuel ‘Cal’ Callaghan isn’t who she had envisioned as her first male friend in… well, forever. With an intimidating build, tattoos everywhere, eight years her senior, and a little sister under his care, the last thing she expected was to warm up to him so easily. As their friendship evolves, Grace can’t help but wonder if Cal is exactly who she’s been looking for all this time.

Cal can’t afford to lose sight of his priorities—making sure his tattoo parlor thrives and taking care of his little sister. Especially the latter. He wants to make sure 4-year-old Maddie has a healthy and happy childhood, despite their mother going off the rails and her father’s blatant neglect. There’s certainly no room for love in his life right now. But when a sweet blonde with a veiled past breaks down his walls, he finds it difficult to stick to his guns.

This is book 2 in a published series.