Check out Circlet for advice on writing sex scenes, especially when they involve same-sex partners or inhuman genitalia. 😀
I just submitted my first post on Patreon, and I plan on providing regular updates both there and here. I post the first part of Adrian’s Diary today. It will be updated regularly, and at the end, it will be cleaned up, edited, and published. Further information will be posted later.
Horror, fantasy, and sci-fi LGBT+ stories are my favorites, and I hope to be able to add to their published numbers this year.
There were no sirens. Everything happened quietly, quickly. Bloodlessly. Not at all like Paul expected.
His fingers itched for a cigarette as he leaned against his car and just watched. A dozen police cars surrounded the wood, one-story house. It was so unremarkable that at first Paul feared that they went to the wrong address, that the snipers on the roofs were pointing their weapons at an innocent family enjoying dinner.
Now he watched them pull Adrian out, cuffed and silent. Paul didn’t budge from his car as they led him to a van. No simple police car waited for Adrian, or whatever his name was. Too risky. Too many names followed him, too many possibilities of bodies not yet found. They could dedicate a graveyard to Adrian alone.
All considering, Paul expected the pretty little yard, complete with a white, albeit aging and neglected, picket fence to be soaked in blood by now. Instead, the operation took a handful of minutes.
Christopher Swank couldn’t figure out if the stranger had just stepped out of a noir movie or if he had lived in this bar his whole life and Chris had miraculously been missing him. Regardless, with his charming grin and smoky eyes, he looked interesting and Chris was bored, so he found himself wandering to the man’s table.
He waited until the sheep, adorned in their costumes and jewels and too-loud shoes, trotted out of the room before slipping free from the shadows. The mad king watched him approach, grinning teeth yellow in the candlelight.
“You should chop off their heads and volley them at the enemy. More weapons and less chattering.”
The mad king laughed, the sound booming through the war room and echoing down the halls. His counselors heard and shivered. If they hurried their steps, naught but each other would notice, and none would comment.
Josh Lyle read somewhere that the true lesson from Hamlet was avoid family reunions and just stay at college, partying with one’s friends. He shared that with his English professor who, after some consideration, agreed that it was a valid belief. Avoid family and family drama, everyone lives. Go home, become enmeshed in family drama, rocks fall, everyone dies.
There is something almost masturbatory in the level of self-indulgence display when people trash one another. If the target of that hate is a woman, the level extends to actual ecstasy, a full rant on the woman’s sins while singing praises for themselves and their families because they would never sink to such a level. When it comes to women, the targets are numerous: her clothes, the number of men she’s fucked (alleged or otherwise), if her sex life ever involved non-cis-men or any level of kink, her make-up (or lack thereof), if she was single, if she had children, it goes on and on.