Writing about intimacy

[AwkwardlySet]

I mean... Is it though?


I'd argue it could just as easily be chaotic good. Like... What if you're not reanimating the dead for evil reasons but just because you want to play a 4+ person board game and have no living friends?

Or if the reanimating the dead is about keeping an owner with its pet until the pet dies as well? I wouldn't class that as evil. Misguided maybe, but not evil.

It's definitely Non-con though, so those players better be enjoying their game!

 

[Erozetta]

It's definitely Non-con though, so those players better be enjoying their game!

You can get consent before death.

 

[Britva415]

None of my stories are autobiographical, but I draw upon real life experience with intimacy in writing intimate scenes. I think about how it felt, and I think about things that in real life turned me on -- the sculpture of a woman's legs, the scent of her hair, the swell of her breast under a blouse as I cupped it for the first time.

This is the way.

 

[Britva415]

Apropos of nothing, the following was comical to me:

Necromancy

reanimating the dead

Necromancy

Yeah, but

Necromancer

necromancy

None of my stories are autobiographical

 

[Erozetta]

There is a particular kiss I remember, and that I will go to my grave remembering.

She was a close friend who I'd always assumed was straight as a rail, judging by her string of boyfriends. We were sitting side by side outside her front door, waiting for a third friend to arrive before we went off to do something. And in the gap between one conversation ending and another starting, I looked at her, and she looked back at me, and she leaned in, and so did I, and my heart was in my throat and going absolutely crackers, and at least one of us let out that little desperate moan that you let out when you realise how much you've wanted something...

She was tall, and strong. She rowed. She was loud, and brash, and an incurable tomboy except when she wore "Come here often" teeshirts to parties, with the letters placed gratuitously over her adequate and perfectly shaped boobs. But beneath all that, she had a heart a million miles wide and she loved her friends with a single-minded conviction that made me feel grey and broken sometimes. She didn't often cry, but she felt safe enough to cry with me. Her hair was short and tightly-curled and her eyes were blue as the skies of heaven.

I can still remember the little "wow" she let out afterwards.

God, how I adored her. She could make the worst of my days better with a simple "Hello" and a smile.

But I was immature (shock, horror, quelle surprise) and looking for something she couldn't offer me. We lost touch. Last I heard, she was in Canada, with kids, and she was content. I hope she's had the life she deserved.

brb something in my eye

My experiences with girls are complicated. A few were... An inability to consent on my part, not that I wouldn't have consented, just really really couldn't, and the main one that qualified as consensual and a relationship... Well, I didn't know we were seeing each other until I was trying to tell her we couldn't be friends anymore because we just kept hurting each other in very bad ways. I thought we were just, you know, friends fucking around when the mood suited us.

The kiss that no one has been able to top yet happened in a tropical depression, at night, in a graveyard, covered in red mud, dripping wet, unable to see clearly between tears and rain, on a summer night, and resulted in me hitting him after because I was mad that he left me after his friends put me in a grave and mad that he came back for me after ditching said friends.

 

[onehitwanda]

The kiss that no one has been able to top yet happened in a tropical depression, at night, in a graveyard, covered in red mud, dripping wet, unable to see clearly between tears and rain, on a summer night, and resulted in me hitting him after because I was mad that he left me after his friends put me in a grave and mad that he came back for me after ditching said friends.

I know we don't kink shame here, but honey... this is full-blooded, barrel-aged Gothic Horror. I'm almost scared to ask but was the grave bit... um... consensual?

 

[Erozetta]

I know we don't kink shame here, but honey... this is full-blooded, barrel-aged Gothic Horror. I'm almost scared to ask but was the grave bit... um... consensual?

The kiss was wanted as much as it was unwanted.

The grave...

I'll put it this way: one of the boys involved had the county sheriff as his daddy and that sheriff had pulled a gun on me more than once because I existed in a way in which he didn't approve. Like, a full grown adult who was supposed to be there as a trusted authority figure for most people in the area was prepared to shoot me when I was 14 because I dressed in black and didn't go to church.

For context:

I lived in the southern US, I was a progressive, pansexual, leftist, atheist, and a feminist, and I didn't hide any of that about myself at the time. I was also a very goth 90s girl.

I had been doing charcoal etches of civil war era graves when his friends found me (barefoot and covered In charcoal up to my elbows and on my face because I always touch my face) alone in the graveyard.

My friend *could* have tried to get the other boys to back off, but he would've been stuck in the grave with me instead of being in a position to pull me out of it later. We were young. We were both doing the best we could with the situation, and the situation wasn't great for either of us. Him being interested in me at all was essentially social suicide. I wouldn't let him admit we were even friends because I was afraid association with me would cause that sheriff to take an interest in him and he was a mouthy asshole who had big issues with authority figures.

Yeah, being dropped into an open grave against my will as a prank by the sheriff's kid was the least of my problems when I lived down there.

The shitty part of that night was just before they put me in the grave, a tropical depression came through the area and turned everything into a fucking mudslide. Alabama red clay does not absorb water well, and there was an open grave. What were the teenage boys to do with a witch beside see if she would float or drown?

 

[onehitwanda]

The kiss was wanted as much as it was unwanted.

The grave...

I'll put it this way: one of the boys involved had the county sheriff as his daddy and that sheriff had pulled a gun on me more than once because I existed in a way in which he didn't approve. Like, a full grown adult who was supposed to be there as a trusted authority figure for most people in the area was prepared to shoot me when I was 14 because I dressed in black and didn't go to church.

For context:

I lived in the southern US, I was a progressive, pansexual, leftist, atheist, and a feminist, and I didn't hide any of that about myself at the time. I was also a very goth 90s girl.

I had been doing charcoal etches of civil war era graves when his friends found me (barefoot and covered In charcoal up to my elbows and on my face because I always touch my face) alone in the graveyard.

My friend *could* have tried to get the other boys to back off, but he would've been stuck in the grave with me instead of being in a position to pull me out of it later. We were young. We were both doing the best we could with the situation, and the situation wasn't great for either of us. Him being interested in me at all was essentially social suicide. I wouldn't let him admit we were even friends because I was afraid association with me would cause that sheriff to take an interest in him and he was a mouthy asshole who had big issues with authority figures.

Yeah, being dropped into an open grave against my will as a prank by the sheriff's kid was the least of my problems when I lived down there.

The shitty part of that night was just before they put me in the grave, a tropical depression came through the area and turned everything into a fucking mudslide. Alabama red clay does not absorb water well, and there was an open grave. What were the teenage boys to do with a witch beside see if she would float or drown?

Every so often you say something and all I want to do is be able to hug you. you deserved better.

 

[AwkwardlySet]

The kiss was wanted as much as it was unwanted.

The grave...

I'll put it this way: one of the boys involved had the county sheriff as his daddy and that sheriff had pulled a gun on me more than once because I existed in a way in which he didn't approve. Like, a full grown adult who was supposed to be there as a trusted authority figure for most people in the area was prepared to shoot me when I was 14 because I dressed in black and didn't go to church.

For context:

I lived in the southern US, I was a progressive, pansexual, leftist, atheist, and a feminist, and I didn't hide any of that about myself at the time. I was also a very goth 90s girl.

I had been doing charcoal etches of civil war era graves when his friends found me (barefoot and covered In charcoal up to my elbows and on my face because I always touch my face) alone in the graveyard.

My friend *could* have tried to get the other boys to back off, but he would've been stuck in the grave with me instead of being in a position to pull me out of it later. We were young. We were both doing the best we could with the situation, and the situation wasn't great for either of us. Him being interested in me at all was essentially social suicide. I wouldn't let him admit we were even friends because I was afraid association with me would cause that sheriff to take an interest in him and he was a mouthy asshole who had big issues with authority figures.

Yeah, being dropped into an open grave against my will as a prank by the sheriff's kid was the least of my problems when I lived down there.

The shitty part of that night was just before they put me in the grave, a tropical depression came through the area and turned everything into a fucking mudslide. Alabama red clay does not absorb water well, and there was an open grave. What were the teenage boys to do with a witch beside see if she would float or drown?

These are such vivid images. I've no actual idea about living in the US outside of movies, and the picture you painted reminded me of True Detective season one. From where we are now, it's sometimes hard to imagine how small-minded and petty people can be, even towards a teenage girl.

Those experiences must have been so hard and traumatic, although I suppose they also hardened you somewhat. As Wanda said, you didn't deserve any of that.

 

[Erozetta]

That awkward moment when you want to point out those are the "funny stories" you tell about your life while genuinely laughing.

 

[simplyfemme1]

I am scared after reading about necro stuff. I didn't even know the meaning of the word before I read it in one of the messages as a reply to my question.

It's enough to give me nightmares for a week. I am not gonna read replies to this post for a while.

Thank you for trying to help me. I really wanna thank those who posted other, helpful stuff rather than writing about necro.

 

[Erozetta]

I am scared after reading about necro stuff. I didn't even know the meaning of the word before I read it in one of the messages as a reply to my question.

It's enough to give me nightmares for a week. I am not gonna read replies to this post for a while.

Thank you for trying to help me. I really wanna thank those who posted other, helpful stuff rather than writing about necro.

Question.... Did you look up necromancy or necrophilia, because they are very very different things.

 

[SimonDoom]

View attachment 2686734

Anytime you tell yourself, "That Onehitwanda, she's such a sensitive writer, so full of delicacy and feeling," just remember this.

 

[onehitwanda]

Question.... Did you look up necromancy or necrophilia, because they are very very different things.

Dead girls need loving too!

Wanda no stop seriously that's enough. We're taking away your keyboard privileges.

 

[onehitwanda]

Anytime you tell yourself, "That Onehitwanda, she's such a sensitive writer, so full of delicacy and feeling," just remember this.

Remember - in certain circumstances, a brick to the back of the head can be tactful.

Or is that bashful. I forget!

 

[spiralholly]

Remember - in certain circumstances, a brick to the back of the head can be tactful.

Or is that bashful. I forget!

I think you meant 'tactical', but I do not wish to volunteer for any practical experimentation to determine that.

On the topic of intimacy, I think we're talking about both the visceral (I felt those fingers glide over my skin on the edge between tickling and titillating) and the emotional (the uncertainty added some fear to the experience, and I struggled to suppress a giggle that might provoke a harsh response). I sometimes get caught up in the visceral and get muddled in the 'stage management/blocking' of the scene rather than keep the focus on the emotional effects. There is a balance to be struck and the more you write to figure out that balance, the better you'll get at it.