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@poems0poems
Could really use more media where wives viciously protect their husbands
Also violently. I want very violently. I want her to go scorched earth. I want five scenes earlier to see her husband being diplomatic and calming down a situation so no one gets hurt because his wife is in danger. And then something happens and now he’s unconscious and being threatened and his wife just absolutely levels a seven block radius with the force of her refusal to let anyone hurt him.
You find a girl crying next to a grave. “What’s wrong?” You ask. She cries harder. “Nobody came to my funeral.”
Night watchman at a cemetary isn’t the kind of job most people want. I’ve always liked it, though. It’s pretty peaceful, most of the time, which is nice. Sometimes I get to chase off teenagers or would-be occultists or obnoxious drunks, which is fun. There’s a lot of entertainment in a good chase, at least for me, and scaring the crap out of them is fun too.
Sometimes it gets sad, though.
It was my first walkthrough of the night when I saw the girl weeping beside the grave. It happens sometimes, and I never chase them. The cemetary is for the dead and the grieving. They’re always welcome here.
I went over to her, careful to keep the grave between us so I wouldn’t scare her. “What’s the matter?” I asked gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She shook her head, still weeping. “No-one came to my funeral,” she sobbed. “No-one at all.”
I checked the stone. She’d been about seventeen. An age of strong emotions and fierce resentments. “I’m sorry,” I told her, and meant it. “That’s… always hard.”
“If they cared about me, they would have come,” she wept. “This means nobody cared at all.”
“Not always,” I told her gently. “Sometimes it means that something else happened. If you like, I can try to find out.”
“Really?” She wiped her eyes. “I’d… I’d appreciate that. I’m Lucy.”
“Stanley.” She couldn’t shake hands, so I gave her a friendly nod. “Come with me, Lucy. I’ve got a laptop in the watchman’s hut.”
She followed me, drifting silently, back to the hut. I brought her in, and made two cups of tea, offering her one. “I’m not solid,” she said, her lip quivering. “I can’t -“
I showed her how to take it, the ghostly echo of the solid cup, and told her I’d learned it from the day attendant over at the columbarium. She’s Korean, and knows a lot about hungry ghosts. She sipped her tea while I opened the laptop and ran the usual searches.
I do this a lot.
Sure enough, there’d been three major car accidents between the area she’d lived in and the cemetary. There’s almost always at least one - there’s this one intersection that no exorcism, ritual purification or cleansing spell has ever worked on - and it usually helps. A lot of spirits want to know why someone they loved didn’t come.
Keep reading
lynne shako / survival, adult mom / lady bird (2017) dir. greta gerwig / @honeytuesday / the ghost is dead, long live the ghost, mara avath / the importance of being earnest, oscar wilde / lady bird (2017) dir. greta gerwig / sharp objects, gillian flynn / the unbearable lightness of being, malin kudera (trans. michael henry heim)
Lady Bird (2017) / Sharp Objects, Gillian Flynn / Sharp Objects (2018) / We Need To Talk About Kevin, Lionel Shriver / Fleabag (2016-2019) / Baby Teeth, Zoje Stage
List of Vocal Sounds for Smut
I present to you a - probably quite incomplete, I’m sure I’m missing a lot of speech sounds - reference list and a bit of a guideline for the different ways one can describe the sounds your characters make whilst writing smut. I’ll definitely be referring to it, because I sometimes get stuck on exactly how to describe a particular noise. (aka, “he can’t groan again, he just groaned last paragraph”)
Sounds (noun, both independently and describing speech): breath/breathe, gasp, moan, groan, pant, whimper, whine, shout, yelp, hiss, grunt, cry, scream, shriek, sob, growl, curse, sound, sigh, hum, noise, squeak, snarl, howl, roar, mewl, wail, choke, keen, purr
Sounds (noun, describing speech): rasp, husk, drawl, plea, murmur, whisper, beg
Descriptors (adjective): loud, hushed, quiet, low, high, high-pitched, little, tiny, soft, deep, unrestrained, restrained, strained, breathy, rough, sudden, short, drawn-out, sharp, harsh, hard, thick, smooth, thin, heavy, impassioned, insistent, hungry, passionate, repeated, filthy, debauched, sweet, slow, deliberate, guttural, languid, surprised, husky, distracted, happy, pleased, satisfied, wordless, cut-off, bitten-off, contented, hoarse, extended, long, depraved, aching, choked, strangled, broken, helpless, shuddering, shaky, trembling, urgent, needy, desperate, wanton, shattered, pained, eager
Combine a descriptor and a sound for best effect - for example, “needy moan,” “pleased hum,” or “sudden scream.” You can even use two: “low, rough grunt,” “sweet little cry,” “desperate, filthy noise,” as long as you don’t repeat a word that means the same thing, unless you really want to emphasize it. Avoiding repetition is pretty key here. You don’t usually want to say “hushed, quiet gasp” except on rare occasions when it’s very important how soft the sound was.
Use your own common sense, as well; some sounds and descriptors don’t generally work well together. “Deliberate shriek” probably wouldn’t work well, and neither would “languid grunt,” but again, this is all very situational - play around! Have fun.
Feel free to add to my lists, use for your reference or pass them around. It would be fun to see a randomized generator made, too, I’m just too lazy to do it myself. ;)
#100 NSFW/Smut Dialogue Prompts
So, I was looking through my old prompts and I haven’t done this in 2 years, so I thought I’d do an update! Some of you have requested smut prompts as well, so here you are~ I would say that this post is 18+, but I know that there will be people younger than that reading this, therefore there is no age limit, but this is adult content.
This is an explicit post.
As usual, this is a smut-based prompt list, SO PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. This is not for the faint of heart and it might be trash because I’m not someone who usually writes smut~
Keep reading
Making Smut Sound Sexy
i received an anon message of a writer who ran into problems creating a sex scene. it frustrates her how nothing really sounds right and even ends up as laughable instead of exciting. i believe it’s possible to pull off profound but sexy writing with only a few tricks. for said magic potion, you might want to use the following ingredients at will:
|| trick 1
vary the length of your sentences to indicate pace. i noticed that the shorter the sentence, the sexier. add semi-long sentences for good balance vice versa.
|| trick 2
take your time to describe surroundings and positions. readers will be able to focus on the juicy things when the basics have enough clarity.
|| trick 3
if you daydream about something, chances are it makes a good passage. it’ll have more detail and passion to it. when i merely construct a smut scene versus picturing it — my readers always comment on the latter. people can pick that shit up.
|| trick 4
make it a body + mind experience. add thoughts of the characters, non-sexual affective gestures, scents(!) of just about everything. a whole lot of other stuff can rub against each other, too. sometimes awkwardly so, but that’s okay. including some humor is also sexy.
|| trick 5
more talk about clothes. stripping is an almost universal turn-on, so make sure to get the garments going. i personally omit lingerie, buttons to open are more interesting. as are things like tattoos and jewelry, it makes it personal.
|| trick 6
comparisons in description give life to your piece. it doesn’t have to be the most complex metaphor. the only goal is to make it more vivid.
|| trick 7
porn and even other fics are not your friends to build a sexy scene. research is. you don’t have to understand the whole world, googling ‘ideas for aftercare’ might be enough for inspiration. knowing your stuff is sexy. that’s how you build your own formula.
|| trick 8
consider everything that can happen during foreplay as a main sex act. once you eliminate the hierarchy of minor and major event, you can mold sex in an authentic way. pleasure is too individual for a template. authenticity is sexy. and PIV isn’t everything.
|| trick 9
colorful adjectives (say, ‘enticing’, ‘lush’) can carry general description. but what smut needs is the quality verb. it’s better to upgrade there. an interesting one (e.g. ‘ripple’) can greatly alter the excitement potential of your phrasing. because: the context becomes figurative. which is your ultimate goal. so, brush up on your verbs, i promise it’s worth it. that being said, you’re good to go.
“Damage doesn’t make you interesting or better. That’s bullshit. That’s not what makes you good. There’s no character to be found in damage. Just recovery.”
— Taliesin Jaffe, once more with the truth bombs holy shit
The reason Lucifer (the show) means so much to me is because the underlying message of the entire series is that everyone, every single person, is deserving of love. And not just romantic love but platonic and familial love. No matter how unworthy or how evil you feel, no matter how much it feels like others don't understand, you can still find your own community full of people who accept you for everything you are. Everyone is worthy. After all, if the Devil can be redeemed, if the Devil can fall in love and be loved in return, anyone can.
I really want to write a fic about how creepy and haunted the Brecilian Forest is because it’s canon that the Veil’s thin throughout due to how many wars were fought within it and how much blood was soaked into the roots of thousands of trees, how many forgotten ghosts from forgotten battles still walk and cry out for their brothers in arms, looking for a battlefield that was reclaimed by the forest generations ago. There are spirits roaming free of the Fade, angry and confused and lost in this strange static world that isn’t the right shade of green, living trees that can lie dormant for centuries until a poor sod ventures too close. At night, all you can hear is the rush of wind through an unbroken canopy that spans so many miles, but it sounds so regular it’s like some huge beast breathing, or thousands of voices muttering and whispering together as one. The forest is alive.
It reminds me so much of all the stories about the fae that I read growing up, about how the forest twists and turns around you to keep you trapped and walking in endless circles without realising it, you’re not supposed to look over your shoulder if you hear weird noises, the trees are as old if not older than the mountains and they probably know you’re walking past them, they’re aware on some level comparable to an animal. That forest glade looks so serene and peaceful, why don’t you sit down and stay awhile so the sun can warm your skin, the trees were always that tall, there’s nothing hungry and envious lurking in the shadows that will fur your bones with moss for stepping beyond them into the light…
And the Dalish are just… used to it all. They’ve grown up with it, they know how to survive and navigate and which areas to steer clear of if they want to stay alive and whole, no matter how inviting that forest glade looks. They ignore the whispers they swear they can hear in a crackling campfire. They pray to Andruil to give them keen eyes, and Dirthamen to hush the whisperings that the People aren’t supposed to hear.
I don’t feel like that’s addressed enough by the fandom. If it has been, please please please give me links. And if anyone is inspired by this post and writes something because of it, please @ me so I can read and share it! really want to read about the Brecilian being an actual horror movie/faerie story Ancient forest.
Imagine the batboys switching roles
It starts with Tim and Damian arguing and Tim says something like, “You wouldn’t last a day as Red Robin, demon brat” and of course Damian takes that as a challenge. So, they decide to swap alter egos for a night. Jason thinks it’s stupid, but Dick loves it, so he gets Jason to join with him. When the night comes, they all put on each other’s outfits,(with some size adjustments, of course), Damian as Red Robin, Tim as Robin, Jason as Nightwing, and Dick as Red Hood.
As expected, Tim and Damian hate it. Tim had a different relationship with Bruce as Robin, and hates being treated like Damian.(being treated like a kid) Damian doesn’t understand why Tim works with anyone he works with, Tim’s staff is too long for him, and his notes are so sloppy(from sleep deprivation)he can’t make any sense of them to work on cases. When the night is over, both of them are tired, and somehow hate each other even more. They both expect Dick and Jason to come back the same way.
Dick and Jason, however, loved it.
Dick loves being Red Hood. The armor makes him feel safe, guarded. Even if he gets shot or stabbed, it doesn’t hit him. The helmet is extremely efficient, and he never has to worry about his identity. He feels invincible. He uses the guns, but doesn’t kill anyone. Still, they make his work much easier and efficient. He feels strong, powerful, secure.
Jason loves being Nightwing. The ecrisma sticks that he used to think were dumb, now filled him excitement. Hearing criminals scream as they were electrocuted or the thunk of the stick landing on someone’s skull was as satisfying as shooting a gun. Even though he thinks it’s impractical, he loves the outfit, too. It’s thin, so when he jumps off of skyscrapers he can feel all the wind rushing against his skin. It makes him feel higher than any drug could make him. Now he get Dick’s love for jumping off high buildings. He feels light, strong, free.
Tim and Damian are shocked. They never expected the other two to have such a good time while they suffered. Of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. In the middle of Jason and Dick fangirling over each other, Tim leans over and whispers to Damian, “Told you ya couldn’t handle it”
I can look past the darkness and see the light you have buried inside your soul because everytime you have held my time in the moments where the thunder drowned out our beating hearts hope drifted close again and something rusted turned golden and you have saved me more times than the stories could tell the world doesn’t have the time to hear the reasons I am yours that could be centuries, it could take eons to spell out and we have work to do before the stars call us home because I am a shadow of what I could be without you so when the night closes in and you look shaken and lost let me help you get found, the way you have been my map before
not to me, to me you are starlight by Abby S (via fireandsteelofangels)
This.
My entire account, all I have ever written, is to convey this.
All I want is for someone to look at my words and say-
“I get you. I understand you. It feels that way to me too. You’re not alone.”
In case anyone else is wondering, this is a passage from Kazuo Ishiguro’s Nobel Lecture.
say a ghost’s name like a prayer and somewhere where you cannot see a nameless gravestone shudders like the flutter of angel wings the chains holding back a straining demon. say a ghost’s name in a whisper and if you speak quiet enough and if hold your breath just right you will hear the echoes of another voice faintly distantly calling your name across the void of time. say a ghost’s name like a reminiscence and wait, just a moment– memories will tumble and flutter like faded sepia-toned photographs falling from the pages of an old forgotten journal. say a ghost’s name like a spell and if the gods are merciful and if the world is willing and if your heart is desperate enough somewhere, a ghost will rise to grasp you by the hand to take you back to the place where you were whole and free.
how to breathe a ghost back to life ( j.p. )
my love, after everything that we have suffered and lost and carried like burdened beasts– after all that we have bled and all that we have cried and all that we have ached– after all that we have given to this world, and all that this world has taken from us– after we have given up our last weary heartbeats and we have marched our last weary steps and we have bled our last weary blooddrop on the last weary battlefield– goddammit, but we deserve some soft and gentle epilogue at the end of our chapters. goddammit, but we deserve at least a quiet moment to hold you in my arms and say our last weary goodbye.
if happy endings are too much to ask ( j.p. )
They once told me that we were one soul in two bodies. I do not think I understood the full truth of it until now when I am missing half of my soul and you are gone. My heart, my blood, half of my soul–– I would build a thousand monuments in your name and a tower tall enough to pierce the sky if only it would bring you back to me. I would tear down every temple in this world and set fire on every altar to the gods if only it would make them relinquish you back to me. Oh, but half of my soul, do not yet despair for I am still here and I still remember your name. I have not forgotten the heroes of old and the lessons their legends carry. I have not forgotten the story of Achilles, and he reminds me now how to mourn the loss of half of my soul. Oh, half of my soul, I will burn down and raze this land for daring to tear you from my fingers, and then–– and then, my love, when this land has bled for you, perhaps then I will be allowed to join you soon again.
Alexander mourns Hephaestion ( j.p. ) || napowrimo #13 Alexander and Hephaestion for anonymous (via pencap)
You don’t need another human being to make your life complete but lets be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn’t see them as disasters in your soul, but as cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world.
Emery Allen (via the-healing-nest)
