non readers

anonymous asked:

There isn’t a lot of clothes removal in the book version of turtle soup. Jamie keeps his shirt on and Claire has on her shift. But it’s still fun and sexy as anything. I just hope expectations are realistic for non-book readers of what the scene entails

I think we know by now that these two are just as sexy with their clothes on as they are with them off.

Say His Name

Velveteen Dream/Reader, non-explicit Aleister Black/Reader, implied Velveteen Dream/Aleister Black
Smut and angst; 1515 words

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You like Aleister, and, going by the way he looks at you, the fact that he apparently can’t ever stop staring at you, you’re pretty certain he likes you back. And surely, you think, it should be the simplest thing in the world, for two people who are in mutual like to at least make an attempt at getting to know one another better, but nothing, it seems, is that simple when it comes to Aleister.

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Rick Riordan won a Stonewall award today

for his second Magnus Chase book, due to the inclusion of the character Alex Fierro who is gender fluid. This was the speech he gave, and it really distills why I love this author and his works so much, and why I will always recommend his works to anyone and everyone.

“Thank you for inviting me here today. As I told the Stonewall Award Committee, this is an honor both humbling and unexpected.

So, what is an old cis straight white male doing up here? Where did I get the nerve to write Alex Fierro, a transgender, gender fluid child of Loki in The Hammer of Thor, and why should I get cookies for that?

These are all fair and valid questions, which I have been asking myself a lot.

I think, to support young LGBTQ readers, the most important thing publishing can do is to publish and promote more stories by LGBTQ authors, authentic experiences by authentic voices. We have to keep pushing for this. The Stonewall committee’s work is a critical part of that effort. I can only accept the Stonewall Award in the sense that I accept a call to action – firstly, to do more myself to read and promote books by LGBTQ authors.

But also, it’s a call to do better in my own writing. As one of my genderqueer readers told me recently, “Hey, thanks for Alex. You didn’t do a terrible job!” I thought: Yes! Not doing a terrible job was my goal!

As important as it is to offer authentic voices and empower authors and role models from within LGBTQ community, it’s is also important that LGBTQ kids see themselves reflected and valued in the larger world of mass media, including my books. I know this because my non-heteronormative readers tell me so. They actively lobby to see characters like themselves in my books. They like the universe I’ve created. They want to be part of it. They deserve that opportunity. It’s important that I, as a mainstream author, say, “I see you. You matter. Your life experience may not be like mine, but it is no less valid and no less real. I will do whatever I can to understand and accurately include you in my stories, in my world. I will not erase you.”

People all over the political spectrum often ask me, “Why can’t you just stay silent on these issues? Just don’t include LGBTQ material and everybody will be happy.” This assumes that silence is the natural neutral position. But silence is not neutral. It’s an active choice. Silence is great when you are listening. Silence is not so great when you are using it to ignore or exclude.

But that’s all macro, ‘big picture’ stuff. Yes, I think the principles are important. Yes, in the abstract, I feel an obligation to write the world as I see it: beautiful because of its variations. Where I can’t draw on personal experience, I listen, I read a lot – in particular I want to credit Beyond Magenta and Gender Outlaws for helping me understand more about the perspective of my character Alex Fierro – and I trust that much of the human experience is universal. You can’t go too far wrong if you use empathy as your lens. But the reason I wrote Alex Fierro, or Nico di Angelo, or any of my characters, is much more personal.

I was a teacher for many years, in public and private school, California and Texas. During those years, I taught all kinds of kids. I want them all to know that I see them. They matter. I write characters to honor my students, and to make up for what I wished I could have done for them in the classroom.

I think about my former student Adrian (a pseudonym), back in the 90s in San Francisco. Adrian used the pronouns he and him, so I will call him that, but I suspect Adrian might have had more freedom and more options as to how he self-identified in school were he growing up today. His peers, his teachers, his family all understood that Adrian was female, despite his birth designation. Since kindergarten, he had self-selected to be among the girls – socially, athletically, academically. He was one of our girls. And although he got support and acceptance at the school, I don’t know that I helped him as much as I could, or that I tried to understand his needs and his journey. At that time in my life, I didn’t have the experience, the vocabulary, or frankly the emotional capacity to have that conversation. When we broke into social skills groups, for instance, boys apart from girls, he came into my group with the boys, I think because he felt it was required, but I feel like I missed the opportunity to sit with him and ask him what he wanted. And to assure him it was okay, whichever choice he made. I learned more from Adrian than I taught him. Twenty years later, Alex Fierro is for Adrian.

I think about Jane (pseudonym), another one of my students who was a straight cis-female with two fantastic moms. Again, for LGBTQ families, San Francisco was a pretty good place to live in the 90s, but as we know, prejudice has no geographical border. You cannot build a wall high enough to keep it out. I know Jane got flack about her family. I did what I could to support her, but I don’t think I did enough. I remember the day Jane’s drama class was happening in my classroom. The teacher was new – our first African American male teacher, which we were all really excited about – and this was only his third week. I was sitting at my desk, grading papers, while the teacher did a free association exercise. One of his examples was ‘fruit – gay.’ I think he did it because he thought it would be funny to middle schoolers. After the class, I asked to see the teacher one on one. I asked him to be aware of what he was saying and how that might be hurtful. I know. Me, a white guy, lecturing this Black teacher about hurtful words. He got defensive and quit, because he said he could not promise to not use that language again. At the time, I felt like I needed to do something, to stand up especially for Jane and her family. But did I make things better handling it as I did? I think I missed an opportunity to open a dialogue about how different people experience hurtful labels. Emmie and Josephine and their daughter Georgina, the family I introduce in The Dark Prophecy, are for Jane.

I think about Amy, and Mark, and Nicholas … All former students who have come out as gay since I taught them in middle school. All have gone on to have successful careers and happy families. When I taught them, I knew they were different. Their struggles were greater, their perspectives more divergent than some of my other students. I tried to provide a safe space for them, to model respect, but in retrospect I don’t think I supported them as well as I could have, or reached out as much as they might have needed. I was too busy preparing lessons on Shakespeare or adjectives, and not focusing enough on my students’ emotional health. Adjectives were a lot easier for me to reconcile than feelings. Would they have felt comfortable coming out earlier than college or high school if they had found more support in middle school? Would they have wanted to? I don’t know. But I don’t think they felt it was a safe option, which leaves me thinking that I did not do enough for them at that critical middle school time. I do not want any kid to feel alone, invisible, misunderstood. Nico di Angelo is for Amy, and Mark and Nicholas.

I am trying to do more. Percy Jackson started as a way to empower kids, in particular my son, who had learning differences. As my platform grew, I felt obliged to use it to empower all kids who are struggling through middle school for whatever reason. I don’t always do enough. I don’t always get it right. Good intentions are wonderful things, but at the end of a manuscript, the text has to stand on its own. What I meant ceases to matter. Kids just see what I wrote. But I have to keep trying. My kids are counting on me.

So thank you, above all, to my former students who taught me. Alex Fierro is for you.

To you, I pledge myself to do better – to apologize when I screw up, to learn from my mistakes, to be there for LGBTQ youth and make sure they know that in my books, they are included. They matter. I am going to stop talking now, but I promise you I won’t stop listening.”

I’ve decided to tell you guys a story about piracy.

I didn’t think I had much to add to the piracy commentary I made yesterday, but after seeing some of the replies to it, I decided it’s time for this story.

Here are a few things we should get clear before I go on:

1) This is a U.S. centered discussion. Not because I value my non U.S. readers any less, but because I am published with a U.S. publisher first, who then sells my rights elsewhere. This means that the fate of my books, good or bad, is largely decided on U.S. turf, through U.S. sales to readers and libraries.

2) This is not a conversation about whether or not artists deserve to get money for art, or whether or not you think I in particular, as a flawed human, deserve money. It is only about how piracy affects a book’s fate at the publishing house. 

3) It is also not a conversation about book prices, or publishing costs, or what is a fair price for art, though it is worthwhile to remember that every copy of a blockbuster sold means that the publishing house can publish new and niche voices. Publishing can’t afford to publish the new and midlist voices without the James Pattersons selling well. 

It is only about two statements that I saw go by: 

1) piracy doesn’t hurt publishing. 

2) someone who pirates the book was never going to buy it anyway, so it’s not a lost sale.

Now, with those statements in mind, here’s the story.

It’s the story of a novel called The Raven King, the fourth installment in a planned four book series. All three of its predecessors hit the bestseller list. Book three, however, faltered in strange ways. The print copies sold just as well as before, landing it on the list, but the e-copies dropped precipitously. 

Now, series are a strange and dangerous thing in publishing. They’re usually games of diminishing returns, for logical reasons: folks buy the first book, like it, maybe buy the second, lose interest. The number of folks who try the first will always be more than the number of folks who make it to the third or fourth. Sometimes this change in numbers is so extreme that publishers cancel the rest of the series, which you may have experienced as a reader — beginning a series only to have the release date of the next book get pushed off and pushed off again before it merely dies quietly in a corner somewhere by the flies.

So I expected to see a sales drop in book three, Blue Lily, Lily Blue, but as my readers are historically evenly split across the formats, I expected it to see the cut balanced across both formats. This was absolutely not true. Where were all the e-readers going? Articles online had headlines like PEOPLE NO LONGER ENJOY READING EBOOKS IT SEEMS.

Really?

There was another new phenomenon with Blue Lily, Lily Blue, too — one that started before it was published. Like many novels, it was available to early reviewers and booksellers in advanced form (ARCs: advanced reader copies). Traditionally these have been cheaply printed paperback versions of the book. Recently, e-ARCs have become common, available on locked sites from publishers. 

BLLB’s e-arc escaped the site, made it to the internet, and began circulating busily among fans long before the book had even hit shelves. Piracy is a thing authors have been told to live with, it’s not hurting you, it’s like the mites in your pillow, and so I didn’t think too hard about it until I got that royalty statement with BLLB’s e-sales cut in half. 

Strange, I thought. Particularly as it seemed on the internet and at my booming real-life book tours that interest in the Raven Cycle in general was growing, not shrinking. Meanwhile, floating about in the forums and on Tumblr as a creator, it was not difficult to see fans sharing the pdfs of the books back and forth. For awhile, I paid for a service that went through piracy sites and took down illegal pdfs, but it was pointless. There were too many. And as long as even one was left up, that was all that was needed for sharing. 

I asked my publisher to make sure there were no e-ARCs available of book four, the Raven King, explaining that I felt piracy was a real issue with this series in a way it hadn’t been for any of my others. They replied with the old adage that piracy didn’t really do anything, but yes, they’d make sure there was no e-ARCs if that made me happy. 

Then they told me that they were cutting the print run of The Raven King to less than half of the print run for Blue Lily, Lily Blue. No hard feelings, understand, they told me, it’s just that the sales for Blue Lily didn’t justify printing any more copies. The series was in decline, they were so proud of me, it had 19 starred reviews from pro journals and was the most starred YA series ever written, but that just didn’t equal sales. They still loved me.

This, my friends, is a real world consequence.

This is also where people usually step in and say, but that’s not piracy’s fault. You just said series naturally declined, and you just were a victim of bad marketing or bad covers or readers just actually don’t like you that much.

Hold that thought. 

I was intent on proving that piracy had affected the Raven Cycle, and so I began to work with one of my brothers on a plan. It was impossible to take down every illegal pdf; I’d already seen that. So we were going to do the opposite. We created a pdf of the Raven King. It was the same length as the real book, but it was just the first four chapters over and over again. At the end, my brother wrote a small note about the ways piracy hurt your favorite books. I knew we wouldn’t be able to hold the fort for long — real versions would slowly get passed around by hand through forum messaging — but I told my brother: I want to hold the fort for one week. Enough to prove that a point. Enough to show everyone that this is no longer 2004. This is the smart phone generation, and a pirated book sometimes is a lost sale.

Then, on midnight of my book release, my brother put it up everywhere on every pirate site. He uploaded dozens and dozens and dozens of these pdfs of The Raven King. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one of his pdfs. We sailed those epub seas with our own flag shredding the sky.

The effects were instant. The forums and sites exploded with bewildered activity. Fans asked if anyone had managed to find a link to a legit pdf. Dozens of posts appeared saying that since they hadn’t been able to find a pdf, they’d been forced to hit up Amazon and buy the book.

And we sold out of the first printing in two days.

Two days.

I was on tour for it, and the bookstores I went to didn’t have enough copies to sell to people coming, because online orders had emptied the warehouse. My publisher scrambled to print more, and then print more again. Print sales and e-sales became once more evenly matched.

Then the pdfs hit the forums and e-sales sagged and it was business as usual, but it didn’t matter: I’d proven the point. Piracy has consequences.

That’s the end of the story, but there’s an epilogue. I’m now writing three more books set in that world, books that I’m absolutely delighted to be able to write. They’re an absolute blast. My publisher bought this trilogy because the numbers on the previous series supported them buying more books in that world. But the numbers almost didn’t. Because even as I knew I had more readers than ever, on paper, the Raven Cycle was petering out. 

The Ronan trilogy nearly didn’t exist because of piracy. And already I can see in the tags how Tumblr users are talking about how they intend to pirate book one of the new trilogy for any number of reasons, because I am terrible or because they would ‘rather die than pay for a book’. As an author, I can’t stop that. But pirating book one means that publishing cancels book two. This ain’t 2004 anymore. A pirated copy isn’t ‘good advertising’ or ‘great word of mouth’ or ‘not really a lost sale.’

That’s my long piracy story. 

Miss Me?

SPN FanFic

~Dean has returned, a new man, determined to make you remember him.~

Demon!Dean x Reader

3,372 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Very NSFW. Demon Dean Smut. Rough sex, slight choking, a little non-con at first, forceful dom!Dean, biting/marking, hair pulling, spanking, bit o’blood play. Just… like… NC17. Very un-Beka like.

A/N: Thank you to my darling pecan sandie @frenchybell for the beta, and my sweetie shmeg @megansescape for the second glance.

Waking up alone was something you had gotten used to over the last few months. You had moved out of his bedroom and back into your own as soon as Sam had laid his body down. There was no way you could sleep there anymore; not after seeing Dean’s breathless form spread across the blanket.

So you had left, taking your few belongings back with you behind door eighteen and began the process of learning how to deal with the loss that had broken your heart.

When Sam had called you from the road saying he’d gotten an actual, firm lead on Dean’s whereabouts, you’d begged him to wait there for you. You wanted to meet him and help him retrieve the lost member of your little family, but Sam had won the argument, insisting that you stay in the Bunker. After all, it was safe; nothing could get in.

That was the truth you clung to when a noise in the hallway woke you. Nothing could get in; everything was fine. You rolled over and pulled your spare pillow to your chest, hugging it tightly while visions of Dean, alive and well, played through your tired mind. Just as sleep was about to reclaim you, you heard the noise again. A loud pair of thuds, like a heartbeat, echoed outside your door. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and went to investigate. As you neared the door your brain clicked on, registering the heartbeat as boot falls coming towards your room. You smiled, thinking that Sam had returned earlier than planned, and turned the knob just as the boots stopped. As if in slow motion you opened the portal and were met with impossible green eyes.

Keep reading

Hold It

A/N: So good, it hurts.


“You really piss me off sometimes,” Dan grumbled. He currently had a grip on my wrist and was leading me upstairs into the flat. I rolled my eyes, he was so dramatic when he wanted to be.

We’d been having a perfectly fine evening, until I’d decided to annoy him. Usually he would either ignore me or bother me just as I did him, but there were also times like these. He’d suddenly steam up and would be in an irritated mood for the rest of the night. It had long since stopped intimidating me, and now I knew he just needed space when he was in these moods.

As he locked the door I went to head toward the living room to do just that, leave him alone. Dan’s grip on my wrist didn’t let go, though. He still had his jacket on, just standing in front of the door with a hand on me. I shook him, starting to get annoyed myself. “Hey, hulk man? Yeah I’m gonna need that arm back now.” Dan yanked me as I started walking. His eyes were literally on fire while he looked down at me. “Alright well, you got me. Now what? You gonna throw me outside for the night?”

My body was pressed against his chest now. His face got closer to mine, until our noses were touching. “You,” he growled, “are going to go to our room, strip naked, and wait for me to come in there. Do I make myself clear?” Usually I hated being told what to do, but Dan rarely called the shots in bed, it excited me. I only nodded and let him release me so I could fast-walk to the bedroom. When I entered, I peeled my clothes from my body. They fell and joined the piles of clothing on the floor. There was anticipation running through my veins, Dan and I had had a few fights that ended in hot sex, but it only happened when were were both upset. If one of us was mad we’d usually keep our distance. Dan’s steps got closer and closer while my body climbed up the bed and then sat in the middle. Dan entered the room, his shirt was off and in his hand but he dropped it to the floor as he came toward me.

“Come down here.” I cautiously headed toward where he stood at the foot of the bed, getting up on my knees and looking up at him expectantly. “Now what, big man?” He bit his lip and remained silent, long enough for me to get uncomfortable under his gaze. “Since you love to push me right to the edge…” Dan pushed my shoulder and I fell back. He dropped down to the floor and his hands were placed on my knees. “So let’s see how you like it.” I swallowed hard. His voice was deep and soft.

Slowly, Dan pushed my knees apart and I was on display to him. I wanted to close my legs out of shyness, but wanted to see where he was going with this. Without preamble, he started leaving wet kisses along the inside of my thighs. His hands slid slowly on along the tops of my thighs as well, sending tingles down my legs and right between them too. He knew they were sensitive, my body was getting hotter. Moments later, his left hand was skirting dangerously close to my center. By then I was more than ready for him to do more to me, sighing every few seconds. His finger teased me, tracing over every bit of me without hitting my clit, just gathering wetness and spreading it around. “C’mon, Dan. Do something,” I whined. “Alright, baby. As you wish.” The evil finger that had been teasing slid slowly into me. It wasn’t enough, but I still gave a gratified sound. He pumped it in and out of me while still littering kisses around where I wanted him most. Soon another finger was added, and he picked up speed. In a few minutes I was close, moaning loud and begging him not to stop. Dan stopped kissing me and looked up.

“You wanna cum?”

I nodded so hard my neck cracked a little, “Please don’t stop I’m so close!”

“Well too bad.” Dan ripped away all contact he had with me. Instantly I was falling away from that ecstatic moment he’d been driving me toward. I tried to chase it but without any stimulation I knew it was gone. I propped up on my elbows and looked at him in anger. “What? Didn’t like that? Didn’t like feeling good and then having it all stop?” I pouted and pushed my hips toward him, hoping he’d actually go back and finish me. Surprisingly he started up again.

Three almost-there moments later and I could feel tears in my eyes. “Dan…I’m begging you just-” I tried to catch my breath and speak at the same time. Plump pink lips pulled away from my overheated, soaking center. “You think I should let you cum now?” I didn’t even bother answering, just whining out softly. “Hey, don’t give up. Maybe I will this time.” Dan waited until he was sure I had calmed down enough, then proceeded to work me over again, faster this time, until I was right there, just about to let go. “On second thought…” I cried out. My fingers were gripping the sheets impossibly hard. “I’m still pretty mad at you.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and sat up halfway. “Bear, I’m sorry I made you so upset tonight. I promise I won’t bother you anymore just please please let me cum baby I’m going to explode!”

While sex between us could get a little on the kinkier side, nothing one of us did had ever pushed the other to beg; not until now. Dan seemed genuinely shocked at my words. “Did I push you too far, princess?” He uttered in a soft voice. “No no no I’m good. Just can you…you know.” I gestured to my nether regions. For the first time during the hour he’d been torturing me, he gave a genuine smile instead of a smirk. This time when he leaned in, I knew he would finish me properly. His tongue and lips went back to my clit, his fingers playing with that soft spot inside me. In less than a minute I had a grip on his hair and I was all but screaming his name with a mix of “Daddy” and “thank you”. Dan rode me through it, until I was too sensitive and he had to stop.

My vision blurred with tears and I tried to catch my breath. Distantly I heard Dan remove his pants and climb behind me on the bed. Carefully, he pulled me up where he was, and held me to his chest, idly wiping at the last of the frustrated tears on my face. “I really am sorry if I made you mad,” I said. Dan stopped and turned my head to look at him. “It’s fine, pumpkin. Sorry I pushed you so much tonight.”

“Don’t worry. I actually kind of liked it. Maybe I should piss you off more in the future.”

His face got serious, “Do it again and next time you just won’t cum.”

Maybe it was because he’d just made me cum, but I didn’t really believe him.


A/N: still no computer, dears! Sorry but this format will have to do

Winter Smut

Request:   So my request is, when you’re ready, is a winter soldier x reader smut. Like with no trace of Bucky, 100% bad soldier. Straight up non con, rough, spanking, slapping, choking, just bad Bucky all the way. Maybe someone orders him to fuck her or he just snaps, whatever you think would be good. 

Warnings: Plot? PORN!  Non-con, oral, vaginal, dirty talk, Smutty smut smut smut  TRIGGER WARNING.  THIS IS A NON-CONSENSUAL STORY.  PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU.

Words: 3800

Tags:  @marauderice @kellyn1604 @divadinag @miiraal @negan–is–god @taintedgenre @alyisdead @el-bucky @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @wayward-mirage @siren-kitten-his @2-fast-2-curious @ariwolff14 @theariel85 @i-am-negan-trash

Originally posted by breakmybedbarnes

               “Are you sure you don’t need an escort?” The other junior ambassador asked.

               “Don’t be silly.”  You walked towards the parking garage. “I’m not an important person.”

               “Not yet.” He winked at you.

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James Potter gets so much unnecessary hate in the HP fandom… and it’s 100% because of how they portrayed him in the films. 

They put in all the “bad” parts, and ignored all the good parts to make Snape look better. Not cool.

People hate him because he bullied Snape in high school. But they conveniently forget that Snape was part of a Wizard Nazi cult at the same age. Interesting. 

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                      “ THE ILLUMINATI (plural of Latin illuminatus, “enlightened”) is a name given to several groups, both real and fictitious. “The order of the day,” they wrote in their general statutes, “is to put an end to the machinations of the purveyors of injustice, to control them without dominating them”