Jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet

Hi yes, please:

Instead of using bruised skin, use tender skin

Instead of using blushed/reddened, use heated, warmed, or blood rushed/ing

Instead of using pale/d, use faint or sickly, even nauseous works

Instead of saying pink nipples and pink pussy… use literally anything else. There are a million words to describe these parts.

There is a reason the weddings I write are only in a courthouse…

Also if your characters have kids… skip the descriptions. Just say those little fuckers are cute and squirmy.

Skip hair descriptions all together. And eyes. Sink your desire to wax on about the depth of color in someone’s eyes to the other character (the one you’re writing the reader with)

It’s really not hard to make an effort. White is not the default.

Some women are conditioned to be fragile and weak, and to believe that it's a sin to outperform a man. Her feminism would involve allowing women to be strong.

Some women are expected to be strong at times when they can't. Her feminism would involve reassuring her that it's okay to not be strong.

Some neurodivergent people are raised to believe that they're too stupid to ever amount to anything. Their disability activism would involve reassuring them that they're capable.

Some neurodivergent people are raised to believe that they're smart and gifted, and are expected to live up to impossible standards. Their disability activism would involve allowing them to fail, make mistakes, be stupid, etc.

Some children are constantly reminded "you're the child, I'm the adult" in order to deny their autonomy. Their youth rights activism would involve treating them like an adult at times when they feel ready for it.

Some children are treated like adults in order to justify increased expectations or to downplay abuse against them. Their youth rights activism would involve allowing them to be a child.

There is no one-size-fits-all solution to oppression. Each individual person's experience is different. Whatever trauma is caused by their oppression, the activism should focus on undoing it.

That pleasure dom Kyle thought has me thinking about pleasure dom Kyle who knows you've had a hard day at work and is ready for you when you get home. He's sitting on the couch, there's an old comfort movie of yours on in the background, and he's got a cushion by his feet all ready for you.

A smile, warm and welcoming and he says: "Come and kneel for me, precious."

and you do, hardly remembering to kick off your shoes before you all but collapse to his feet in trained submission. You wrap your arms around the back of his knees, lay your head on his lap and allow yourself to fold around his warmth with the low sound of the TV in the background. Kyle wraps a warm, comforting hand around the back of your neck- a reminder of his presence, of who you belong to.

and you just...float. You allow yourself to drift into that fuzzy sort of headspace where everything else becomes so unimportant compared to Kyle, to being just like this for him- sweet and gentle at his feet and being good for him the way you're supposed to be. Kyle strokes a thumb against your nape in slow, deliberate circles- petting you into further relaxation under his touch.

Once he deems you finally pliant enough, it's easy enough to maneuver you onto the couch and spread your legs for him so he can really get to work- offering slow, gentle, rolling orgasms that have you whine and mewl under his clever tongue. He calls you his sweet thing, lovie, doll, and by the end you're floating so blissfully in the haze of your orgasms, in the pleasure of being good that it takes all your effort to allow him to dress you in PJs and settle you both back down for a long, well deserved nap.

Queer 👏 people 👏 are 👏 not 👏 all 👏 fucking 👏 activists 👏

Stop quizzing us on queer history and asking us questions we aren’t qualified to answer about the world and about politics and about our identities

Stop trying to back us into a corner so you can justify your discrimination on the basis that we don’t know what we’re talking about or can’t “defend” ourselves to you

Stop treating every queer person that stands up and says “I want to be treated like a person” as if they’re an activist

Cut that bullshit out

Marginalised people just want to exist and be happy

I don’t know everything, and that doesn’t make me undeserving of your respect or my human rights you fucker

I don’t even owe you the stuff I do know- I still am entitled to basic fucking respect

TLDR; Queer people shouldn’t have to be historians or scientists for you to not be a fucking dick

A bus may have only a couple of passengers, especially at the beginning or end of its route. But let's also take fuel efficiency into account.

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

Question for the next part

This man (thatgreygentleman) is one of my favorite creators and his hot take on Zuko’s coronation is amazing

Shattered under your skin l Azriel x reader

Part 2 of ???

Chapter Summary: You gather the pieces.

The sun has not yet risen but the darkness has yielded to a soft grey light. You were still slumped against the tree. Fingers mindlessly trailing over the bark you stare at nothing in particular. In the matter of one night your life had been uprooted. Betrayed, alone and cold you wonder how long until someone found you. Surely the inner circle was looking for you, alarmed either by Elain or Azriel. Everytime your gaze snagged on the mark on your wrist, a misty band climbing up your hand to your ringfinger, your tears come back. Your innitial panic attack had ebbed after a while, leaving you raw and empty.

Staggering to your feet you start walking. You had winnowed into a forrest, one you hadn't visited in years. Still, it was familiar. You had lived here once, before your life in the night court. Before Azriel. Before you had helped your best friend carry a dying blonde to the border. It's the same spot you stand at now. One foot in the night court, one in autumn.

"I didn't think that this would be the place we'd meet again." you'd known him there for hours. Eris had been watching from the distance, kept various creatures from approaching you while you took your time. You played his game.

"It's been a while." your voice betrayed your hours spend crying. Not that he hadn't been there for it. From the corner of your eye, you see him step forward until he was at your side. He didn't look at you but with a flick of his wrist you felt warmth wrap around you.

"What brings you back? That bat of yours bore you?"

"Apparently he's not my bat." At that, he turns his full attention to you. Eyebrows raised he waited for you to continue.

"Well I didn't expect that-"

You laugh dryly:"Yeah me either. Really ruined my night."

"What happened?"

By the time your tale is finished the tears were back and finally you threw yourself into Eris warm embrace. It's been years since you had spoken but somehow your friendship hadn't broken. He still smelled like smoke and cinnamon and safety. He drew you into his chest tightly, stroking your hair and waiting for you to tell him how to fix this.

But there was no fixing this. There will be an aching hole in your chest for the rest of your life. Because after this, how are you supposed to ever trust Azriel again? If he is capable of hurting you while loving you? No, you had been prepared to walk out on him the second you discovered the betrayal. You had held onto relationships before in your life and had only been hurt for it. So you hardened your heart, drawing strength from Eris embrace and set your shoulders.

"Thank you. I have to go back."

"You're going back to him?" Eris is understandably outraged, holding you a small distance away by your shoulders. He's barely been holding onto his temper for hours, planning misery and death for whoever hurt you. But you place your hands on his wrists soothingly.

"My life is in Velaris. I wont just run away." You hold his stare. Eris knows the look in your eyes. A slow smile forms on his lips. You are petty. You wont let Azriel off easy and disappear. No, you'd force him to look you in the eye and face what he did.

"Kick his ass properly or I'll have to." he says as a way of goodbye, kissing your hair and stepping back.

"I'll send you a letter with all the details." Your grin is still a little wrong, too heavy. But Eris eyes twinkle:"I'll hold you to that."

You step back into nightcourt territory and winnow to Verlaris.

Sometimes I get too in my head with my writing. Especially about my smut. I reread every last word with the most critical of eyes and think, Ooh is that cringe? Will that be too graphic? Will this word or phrase take people out of the scene?

And then I read a book. A published, hardcover, NYT bestsellers list book and...

Did you get that?

Someone looked at this sentence (likely more than one someone, tbh) and was like, 'Yeah. We'll print that.'

So the moral of the story, my fellow heathen smut writers, is that we're fine.

As a matter of fact, we're actually fucking amazing.