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My place of Proze and Doze...(comments welcome)

ShadowsLitany

Lurker in the Shadows
Supporter
Joined
Oct 17, 2014
Location
USA
Figured I would make a thread to drop in any thoughts, story ideas and whatnot that occur to me. Often I get snippets of ideas that come to me and I have no idea what to do with them. Maybe someone can use them, get inspired, insulted or intrigued.

If you find a comment of some such thing is warranted, feel free! It's all about fun. Criticism especially welcome, I am continually trying to fine tune my writing. Anything is welcome.

My first foray was a little dark, that was just an opening that came to me one time.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

This is a start for an rp I had in mind with a Sorcerer and a Succubus.

-----

Stepping into the corridor of the dark tomb Sam raised a hand, thin fingers gestured and all along the stone-hewn corridor torches sprang to life. Not the flicker of natural flame, the scion of elemental fire on this plane, rather the steady burn of a red, sorcerous flame. The corridor was bathed in a steady light, illuminating the dust, cobwebs and the remains of adventurers who had come this far in the tomb. Wrapping the long, brown robes around his tall, thin legs stepping carefully over the rubble at the bottom of the stairs. Sam's Leather boots stepping softly on the floor leaving footprints in the dust, another gesture and a gust of air swirled down the corridor. Daggers sprang from the wall, clattering to the floor. Spears rose from the floor and dropped from the ceiling with a clacking that echoed. Stones dropped away to pits underneath the floor, in one Sam saw glistening points sticking up. A small cloud of greenish gas appearing to settle in one section of the corridor, that was blown away with another gust of wind. With a slight smile Sam pulled tight the long queue of hair around his head, black hair tight against his skull, where dark eyes flashed as he glanced over the corridor once more. Hiking up the brown, robes stepped around the traps walking down the corridor.

Making his way to the heavy, stone door at the end, a finger traced a rune on the surface that was soon followed by loud clicks and a groaning as the door slid inside the room behind. The room behind was Sam's objective, giving himself a small smile of satisfaction at getting here, stepping in and looking around. On one end a chipped sarcophagus sat by a small altar to one of the older gods, a larger altar and sacrificial bowl directly across the room. The ceiling held up by carved columns of stone, each column a stack of carven skulls, all different, looking towards the carved circle of runes in their center. A small chest lay in the center of the runes, passing a hand over the runes they glowed and the shield shimmered as it appeared from floor to ceiling. Stepping back Sam sighed slightly as he looked over the runes, hearing the grinding of stone on stone behind him. Turning saw the sarcophagus top sliding down as a wrapped body rose from the opening, the undead figure was broad and dressed in bits of armor. Sam pointed a finger at the body, a sliver of light stretched across the room from his finger to the body that slowly dissolved into a puddle, which swiftly evaporated.

Walking to the other side of the circle Sam started a soft chant, gesturing with both hands, eyes shut in concentration as his body glowed. Bringing his hands together with a loud, thundering clap, that echoed across the room, his eyes opened as his palms came apart. The shield shimmering, shaking, then shattering as its magic fell away before him, the runes on the floor smoking as their power drained away. Stepping away from the chest Sam gestured with one finger, the chest shook, clicked then opened as a cloud of smoke appearing above it, a hand held out stopping the two small needles that hung in the air for a moment then fell clattering to the floor. The smoke hung above the chest, curling about itself as Sam stepped into the circle, the smoke lengthening and darting at his face.

A look and the smoked stopped, blowing across the room, where on the altar it hung in the air growing into a lumpen humanoid shape. Slowly the body appeared from within the smoke resting on the altar, a young woman with large, firm breasts, long legs crossing over each other as a childish look on the narrow, lean face looked him over. Thin, red lips smiled over pointed teeth. Black pools for eyes looked soullessly over him while she sat there naked, her face framed by thick, curling black hair. The wings on her back stretched out, their bat-like shape shadowing the wall behind her, then folding back with a whipping sound. A succubus, Sam knew there was a guardian here but did not think it would be a succubus, they were unreliable and notorious for following their lusts.

"You came to free me?" She asked innocently, the air shimmering with desire as she tried to entice him. A gesture and her spell faded, a look of surprise growing on her face.

"Hardly demon," he answered looking in the chest, holding a glowing palm over it, not yet willing to put a hand in. "Are you the guardian?" Sam asked, glancing at her. Still naked, her hands interlacing fingers over her knees, noticed her breasts had grown, the dusky orbs topped with dark, brown almost black nipples that extended in excitement.

"No," she looked down, pointing a nailed finger to the remains of the undead, "he was the guardian, I was a prisoner in the box." Stepping down she walked over towards him and sniffed, "a sorcerer?"

"Yes," he answered shortly looking in the chest.

"Perhaps I can reward you?" Stepping forward, herarms open, lips pursed and he noticed now the short hair covering her vagina, or what looked like one on a demon. Snorting at her, giving her a short glance to determine her danger, a demoness so close was alarming on some levels, yet the confidence that burned in Sam surpassed any danger she might pose.

A gesture and spirit chains erupted from the floor binding her limbs to her body, pulling her down to a kneeling position before him as if in supplication. "You have nothing I require at the moment." Sam answered impatiently looking in the chest and finding what he was looking for, smiling he sighed as he pulled out the small silver ring.

"Ohhh, you bound me," moaning in orgasmic delight as she looked up at him, "well if it's what you are into. Go ahead, beat me, hit me, shove your cock in all my holes. Cum on my face, whatever you want. Perhaps you want to spank my tits with your cock?" All this came out in a suggestive, happy tone. She exuded sex and desire like a perfume that filled the air around them, mostly it annoyed Sam,

Sam looked at her unmoved and rolled her eyes, "why would I want to do any of that, with you?"

She winked at him, "a succubus never complains. All I need is your lust and you can do what you want." Her look was pleading for a moment then she smiled, "oh, I see. You think you don't have enough?" Smiling she nodded her head, Sam felt a tightening in his trousers, hidden under the brown robes. "That should be more than enough for anyone." Her smile widened as her lips reached out blowing a kiss in the direction of his cock.

"What did you do to me?" Sam moaned for a moment, surprised she could even cast something like that on him. Looking down, Sam put the ring in a pocket of the robe. Putting a hand over his trousers felt the larger cock there, "demonic magic. Easily removed." As he realized it was a simple enlargement spell, as it was not a hinderance to him and his aims, he left the spell in place, more to show he was unconcerned than anything.

"Oh please, use it once one me first," she pleaded as she stayed in position before him. "I'll remove it after, I promise." Licking her lips, "you freed me, so I owe you something."

"Whatever," Sam sighed walking back towards the entry corridor, "you want to do is your business, not mine."

"You're just going to leave me here?" She was genuinely surprised. "At the mercy of anyone who might come by to rape and kill me? Or maybe I'd starve to death before anyone came!"

Sam turned, the robes swirled about with the swift action, "all that would happen is you would return to the demonic realms for a time then come back to the material plane. I hardly see that as a loss." Turning back towards the corridor he waved a hand and the chains shattered, walking around the traps again made his way to the stairs then up to the larger cave, the sunlight shone in from the large opening down it's length. A glowing orb that lit the area around Sam floated and took its place behind him, following him out. Shattered stones and bones littering the floor of the cave, as Sam walked to the opening of the tomb he heard the rustle behind him, the succubus was following him he realized. Wordlessly he walked to the opening and looking down the mountain at the forest that grew at the base of the cliff teleporting himself to the edge of the wood.

At the base of the mountain Sam began walking into the forest, a hand over the pocket that held the ring as he made his way around the trees and over the rough terrain to the path in the woods. The path led him to the cart tracks, those in turn led him to the merchant's road and that to the village nearby. Above him he could sense her flying above, enjoying her freedom as the succubus beat her wings in the air moving on the swift air currents that rolled down the mountain. At the edge of the village was a tavern, its sign faded but the outline of a dragon or some other serpent could still be discerned on the weathered wood. Opening the door the barmaid was running around half empty tables, her face turning to him in greeting stopped. Her mouth opening as she stared, closing the door Sam stood there, the maid's portly frame was topped with a rounded head with strings of blonde hair held to her head with a tied cloth. Realizing she still had the mugs of beer in her hand brought them to the table and wiping her hands she slowly made her way back to him.

"A silent one?" She used the ancient name the sorcerers used almost quietly, then finding her voice, "are you here for a meal and a room?" Nodding, Sam looked at her silently, his eyes flashing as he took in the room and her rounded body under the skirts and apron. "I'll have to see about the room, we don't have ones like your type stay in, but we can make do. Sit over there," she pointed to a table over against the wall. Sam walked over and sat down, the maid brought over a mug of beer and leaving it in front of him then some bread and a wedge of cheese.

As Sam began to eat the door opened again, at first slowly then more quickly, in the glare of the sun he saw her form again. The succubus. Sighing deeply, Sam ate bits of cheese and bread watching her enter the tavern as the room grew quiet, the succubus' black eyes turned around the room while walking over to sit across from him. Smiling she looked at the mug on the table slowly reaching a nailed hand out, taking it gently then with her black eyes locked onto his brought the mug up to her red lips, that parted slowly, her mouth opening in a slight moan and drank some of the beer. The foam collecting on her upper lip, a tongue curled up and suggestively wiped the foam from left to right, the end of her tongue collecting the foam in the slight hollowing then took the foam into her mouth with a slight moan and slurp. "Hello again," she said after a moment.

"We don't like her kind here," the maid said nervously from across the room.

Turning to the maid, "it is not with me." He said sternly. The maid opened her mouth in shock and the room became quiet. Sorcerers were known as the silent ones as they normally never spoke in public, especially to those who were not like them, to hear one speak was alternately considered good luck or the harbinger of misfortune. Everyone in the room hushed and looked at each other trying to determine if it was wise to remain. Turning to the succubus, "why did you follow me?"

"Well," sitting back in the chair, her dark, erect nipples pointing to the air, "I've been trapped so long, and while I was originally going back to the demon realms when I was caught, you letting me out gave me an idea." Pausing for effect, "I'm going to travel with you."

"Why?" Sam asked her angrily as she smiled at him, the room began to slowly clear of other patrons. They had decided, leaving was best.

"As I said," she flipped a hand in the air, "I'm bored." Then leaning over the table whispered, "beside you haven't used that on me yet." She looked down at the engorged cock under his robes, as she said the words and looked down, she licked her lips. The kind of hungry look one had before dinner, a dinner where Sam was the main course.

As he made his way into the larger room at the end there was the chipped sarcophagus by the altar on one side of the room, a larger altar and sacrificial bowl on the other. The room was held up by carved columns of stone, each one a stack of skulls looking towards the carved circle of runes in the center of the floor. There, a small chest lay in the center of the runes, passing a hand over the runes they glowed and the shield shimmered as it appeared from floor to ceiling. Stepping back Sam sighed slightly as he looked over the runes, hearing the grinding of stone on stone behind him. Turning saw the sarcophagus top slid down and from it rose a wrapped body, the undead figure was broad and dressed in bits of armor. Sam pointed a finger at the body, a slight ray of light stretched across the room and the body slowly dissolved into a puddle that swiftly evaporated.

Walking to the other side of the circle Sam started a soft chant, gesturing with both hands, eyes shut in concentration as his body glowed. Then bringing his hands together with a loud clap, that thundered across the room, his eyes opened and the palms slowly came apart. The shield shimmered, shook, then shattered from around the chest, the runes on the floor smoked as their power drained away. Stepping away from the chest Sam gestured with one finger, the chest shook, clicked then opened as a cloud of smoke appeared above it, a hand held out stopped the two small needles that hung in the air for a moment then fell to the floor with a slight clatter. The smoke hung above the chest, curling about itself as Sam stepped into the circle, the smoke lengthened and darted at his face.

A look and the smoked stopped then blew across the room, where on the altar it hung in the air then grew into a lumpen humanoid shape. Slowly the body formed and rested on the altar, a young woman with large, firm breasts, long legs crossed over each other as a childish look on the narrow, lean face looked over at him. Thin, red lips smiled over pointed teeth. Black pools of eyes looked soullessly over at him while naked she sat there, a simple smile on her face, framed by thick, curling black hair. The wings on her back stretched out, their bat-like shape shadowing the wall behind her, then the wings folded back in with a whipping sound. A succubus, Sam knew there was a guardian here but did not think it would be a succubus, they were unreliable and notorious for following their lusts.

"You came to free me?" She asked innocently.

"Hardly demon," he answered and began to look in the chest, holding a glowing palm over it, not willing to put a hand in. "Are you the guardian?" He asked, glancing at her. Still naked, her hands crossed over her knees, noticed her breasts had grown, the dusky skin were topped with dark, brown almost black nipples.

"No," she looked down surprised, then pointed a nailed finger, "he was the guardian, I was a prisoner in the box." Stepping down she walked over towards him and sniffed, "a sorcerer?"

"Yes," he answered gruffly still looking in the chest.

"Perhaps I can reward you?" She stepped forward, arms open, lips pursed and he noticed now the short hair covering her vagina, or what looked like one on a demon.

A gesture and he bound her in spirit chains that erupted from the floor, pulling her down to a kneeling position, "you have nothing I require at the moment." Sam answered her impatiently as he looked in the chest again and found what he was looking for, smiling he sighed as he pulled out the small silver ring.

"Ohhh, you bound me," she looked up at him then shrugged, "well if it's what you are into. Go ahead, beat me, hit me, shove your cock in all my holes. Cum on my face, whatever you want. Perhaps you want to spank my tits with your cock?" All this came out in a suggestive, happy tone.

Sam looked at her and rolled her eyes, "why would I want to do any of that, with you?"

She winked at him, "a succubus never complains. All I need is your lust and you can do what you want." Her look was pleading for a moment then she smiled, "oh, I see. You think you don't have enough for me?" Smiling she nodded her head, Sam felt a tightening in his trousers, hidden under the brown robes. "That should be more than enough for anyone."

"What did you do to me?" Looking down, Sam put the ring in a pocket of the robe. Putting a hand over his trousers felt the larger cock there, "demonic magic. Easily removed."

"Oh please, use it once one me first," she pleaded as she stayed in position before him. "I'll remove it after, I promise." Licking her lips, "you freed me, so I owe you something."

"Whatever," Sam sighed as he walked back towards the corridor he entered, "you want to do is your business, not mine."

"You're just going to leave me here?" She was genuinely surprised. "At the mercy of anyone who might come by and kill me? Or maybe I'd starve to death before anyone came!"

Sam turned, the robes swirled about with the swift action, "all that would happen is you would return to the demonic realms for a time then come back to the material plane. I hardly see that as a loss." Turning back towards the corridor he waved a hand and the chains shattered, walking around the traps again made his way to the stairs then up to the larger cave, the sunlight shone in from the large opening. Shattered stones and bones littered the floor of the cave, as Sam walked to the opening of the tomb he heard the rustle behind him, the succubus had followed him. Wordlessly he walked to the opening and looking down the mountain teleported himself.

At the base of the mountain he walked into the forest, a hand over the pocket that held the ring as he made his way around the trees and over the rough terrain to the path in the woods. The path led him to the cart tracks, those in turn led him to the merchant's road and that to the village nearby. At the edge of the village was the tavern, the sign faded but he could still make out the outline of the dragon or some other serpent. Opening the door the barmaid was running around half empty tables and noting him stopped. Her mouth opened as she looked at him and he closed the door and stood there, her portly frame was topped with a rounded head with strings of blonde hair held to her head but a tied cloth. Realizing she still had the mugs of beer in her hand brought them to the table and wiped her hands as she slowly made her way back to him.

"A silent one?" She said the ancient name the sorcerers used almost quietly, then finding her voice, "are you here for a meal and a room?" Nodding, Sam looked at her silently, his eyes flashing as he took in her rounded body under the skirts and apron. "I'll have to see about the room, we don't have ones like your type like here, but we can make do. Sit over there," she pointed to a table over against the wall. Sam walked over and sat down, the maid brought over a mug of beer and left it in front of him then brought him some bread and a wedge of cheese.

As Sam began to eat the door opened again, at first slowly then more quickly, in the shade of the sun he saw her form again. The succubus. Sighing deeply, Sam ate as he watched her enter the tavern the room going quiet as the black eyes turned around the room and she walked over and sat across from him. Smiling she looked at the mug in front of him and slowly reaching out, took it gently from his hand then with her black eyes locked onto his brought the mug up to her red lips and drank some of the beer. The foam sat on her upper lip, a tongue curled up and suggestively wiped the foam from left to right, the end of her tongue collecting the foam in the slight hollowing then took the foam into her mouth with a slight moan. "Hi again," she said after a moment.

"We don't like her kind here," the maid said nervously.

Turning to the maid, "it is not with me." He said sternly. The maid opened her mouth in shock and the room became quiet. Sorcerers were known as the silent ones as they normally never spoke in public, especially to those who were not like them, to hear one speak was alternately considered good luck or the harbinger of misfortune. Turning to the succubus, "why did you follow me?"

"Well," she began sitting back in the chair, her dark nipples pointing to the air, "I've been trapped so long, while I was originally going back to the demon realms when I was caught, you letting me out gave me an idea. I'm going to travel with you."

"Why?" Sam asked her angrily as she smiled at him, the room began to slowly clear of other patrons.

"As I said," she flipped a hand in the air, "I'm bored." Then leaning over the table whispered, "beside you haven't used that on me yet." She looked down at the engorged cock under his robes, the one she had cast a spell on and as she said the words and looked down, she licked her lips. The kind of hungry look one had before dinner, a dinner where Sam was the main course.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

One of the challenges I like in writing is adding in some pop culture, historical or song reference to a story which has no connection to it. Sort of like how Lemony Snicket does that with art and phrase references in the Unfortunate Events Series.

Luckily a partner who has helped me craft a great story has given me opportunity to show this on the site.

There are a few song references and some updated fairy tale references in there. Bully for you if you catch them, I surprised Tesora a couple of times.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Pictures?

I don't use them primarily, some people do and I have for a few things, but I'd rather describe the person, the room, the situation. I find the imagination is the most active and most apt sex organ one will ever find. Give just enough for someone else's imagination to fill in the gaps. You don't need to describe your own personal view of yourself as a sex god, be a shell that gives the reader enough so they can fill in the gaps and the holes to be the one they want. After all its mean to be about both of you, the writer and the reader, so while you can imagine yourself as that 6'5" 250 pound muscle, bound black haired adonis with the flashing blue eyes, rugged complexion, wide chest and shoulders you can rest the world on do you really need to know about the slender waist, smooth shaven skin, freckle on the left toe and tattoo on the right forearm? Maybe, maybe not. Only you can judge.

Imagination, it's the spark that creates the fire.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Isn't this always the way?

"It's the good girls who keep diaries; the bad girls never have the time."
- Tallulah Bankhead
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

In some rp's there are sex scenes, or a scene can be sexy, or it can flop. Literally. Figurative too, but that all depends on who is doing the reading. They are all different and all connected, I find the more I do them the more I re-evaluate how I write them. The mechanics of writing is an important part, and by mechanics I mean how well the writing is structured, grammar, punctuation all the boring stuff we take for granted. It's integral, intrinsic, an invisible part but without that the writing is not clear and won't convey what you mean, or what you expect it to mean.

A sex scene is a sex scene, you are describing what a character is doing. How they are doing it. Add any of the W's and you have more to cover in that scene but if its the same way each time it is boring. Not just for the reader but the writer. Take a new perspective, add a detail that is different, I personally love clothes and describing body parts but can't or won't do it the same way twice. Add a new detail, think what the sensations are like, make it fresh. Experience here is essential, of course imagination is needed, but sometimes that crucial detail can be missing, I try not to write things I am not into or don't do, otherwise I don't think it comes across as believable.

Sexy scenes are just that, to build tension or arouse, if you want to just jump into a sex scene the rp will die pretty quickly, few people want to just get into it. Otherwise there are plenty of hot chat sites out there, just have your credit card ready. Taking time to build up tension requires some forethought, its easier to know the little steps characters will take to work up to the final act so those gentle caresses, glances, or the slide of a leg against a partner will bring everything together.

With all that I find the mechanics of it all important, short choppy sentences will not convey the meaning, nor drive things towards a conclusion if the reader is confused or gets bored, that means the characters are in limbo then die off when the reader moves on to something else. Imagine faceless characters dying off here, that scream fading away as the characters go back to that from whence they came. A story is alive while being read, and if the mechanics are not there to capture and make clear what is going on, then it dies, becomes a flop. No one likes a floppy thing during a sex scene. Unless its at the end, or you are into that kind of thing.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

It's always amazes me that whenever you think you have come to the bottom of the well of human stupidity, someone takes out a shovel.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Before Christmas I was listening to songs on YouTube and came across Rude by Magic! I kind of like the song, simple, catchy a fun little story in it and I let it play out, the chorus always got me and I had a laugh at it. Then I started reading the comments, which I like to do on certain videos, or news stories - I loved that on a local newspaper watching the various political trolls turn any story into something its not. Fun stuff that. Yet in the Rude comments I saw people going back and forth, discussing the song, and there someone said, just read the lyrics!

So I did read them.

Then I took a critical look at it and basically saw the premise of the song that I know inspired one Dad to write a response. Basically in the song, we have a story, time boxed as it is so words count. In this we have a guy in love thinking to ingratiate himself with his girl's Dad by asking for her hand in marriage and/or love. Dad says no, guy basically says, screw you I am going to do it anyway. So I read the lyrics and was thinking, ok the guy is a hypocrite and Rude himself in not really listening to Dad, either he wants Dad's blessing or not. Not getting that blessing is like many of the run away stories I have read, family says No so the lovers take off anyway. So why bother asking the question in the first place if you are not going to be able to deal with the rejection? That's what I am seeing there after all.

It bugged me that people were complaining to read the lyrics, when depending on how you come to the song, or like in many things, you can find things to confirm or deny your point of view. So, while I like the song, and find the guy a hypocrite, I can still enjoy it and not get into a discussion about what the song is trying to say.

Comments are still fun to read though.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Why is it that when there is a song that goes through your head it's usually one you do not like.

Subconsciously we must all be masochists.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

2015 is already looking good. Some new, fun rp's and about ready to do my next homebrew.

I'm excited to see how things will go here at BMF.

Glad to be here.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

What makes doing Easter Eggs the most fun is when I can match them up to my partners interests, knowing a bit about my partners likes and dislikes helps me to make them so not only do they add to the story but that my partner gets a lot of enjoyment out of them. It's not always easy but I like the little bit it adds to the challenge of it all. I enjoy writing it, and my partner gets a laugh or smile from it. All is good.

Easter Eggs, not just for breakfast anymore!
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Nothing like a snowed in day at home to let you get all caught up on the things you were desperately trying to avoid doing.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Just an opening I had for an rp that went nowhere...kind of fun to write in a different way to get a character description using his pet. I don't know about Julie Newmar, but I still think Eartha Kitt was the sexiest Catwoman.

I also remember the Batutsi...

-----

Steven opened the outer door of the apartment, stepping into the entry hall, removed his shoes and hung his coat on the hook of the wall. The entry room was why he had chosen the apartment, it was unusual to have a mudroom in an inner city apartment but it worked here. He often thought the previous owners had a child, or something they wanted to use the inner door to keep it inside the apartment. It was almost Japanese in a way, not that he'd been there except what he saw on TV and anime, but the space for shoes and coats before going inside the apartment was nice, and the floors stayed clean! Opening the inner door Eartha was there, her soft, white hair and pink nose turned up to him, the sun reflecting off her white fur. Reaching down picked up his little darling, the soft mewing a nice welcome home as he stroked her soft fur with a big hand. As a kitten she had fit into his palm, while he had kept fit and worked out she had grown and now lay across his arm and hand, her head fitting snugly in his palm. Making sure the door was closed the setup worked to keep his cat in and not running around outside.

"How's my girl?" He spoke to her in a babyish parental voice, rubbing her head against his cheek, her soft fur catching slightly against his stubble as his blue eyes looked into hers. In response he received a meow, a slight purr as she rubbed her head on his cheek then jumped down on the floor, knocking into the small table in the hall. Straightening the pictures saw the one of them together when he had first picked up the cat when out on a bike ride, his short cropped blonde hair on the rugged face with the bright, big toothed smile. A candid photo, he looked almost model-like with his toned and tanned, chiseled body with the bike pants and tight top stretching across his broad chest and narrow hips. Tall and broad, looking more like a lumberjack than some sort of cutsey cat person, he had been too crazy about her as a kitten when seeing her crawling around in the box where the kid had been selling kittens by the side of the road. Amazed at how well his friends phone had been able to take such a good photo it became a favorite, the chiseled biker with the soft, white puffball kitty in his hand. Naming her after his favorite actress, Eartha Kitt, who portrayed one of the sexiest versions of Catwoman ever.

Walking with Eartha through the apartment, the floor to ceiling windows letting in light from the corner location of the apartment. The black, leather sofa looked out on the room and to the rest of the city that spread out map-like before them. Eartha stroked the edge of the sofa and jumped up, finding her favorite spot of sun and curling up, the bright eyes staring at him through slits while the motor-like purring continued. The living area was the center of the apartment, with the open space arranged to see the kitchen and its counter to the south, the dining table to the west and bedroom and en suite bathroom to the east. Steve liked the order, the layout. Chaos did not enter his life. The sofa caught most of the sun and had always been Earth's favorite spot to rest, he cocked his head at her as he emptied his pockets to the short hallway table, wallet, keys and phone all laid out in their space.

"Someone is a noisy kitty today," he remarked as he took a slow slide on the wooden floors, as his socks slid on the polished wood. Feeling slightly like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, except no sunglasses.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

It's funny how lies and truth can both be used to achieve the same ends.

"What is the difference between unethical and ethical advertising? Unethical advertising uses falsehoods to deceive the public; ethical advertising uses truth to deceive the public." - Vilhjalmur Stefansson
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

I still like my previous signature quote:

"He who asks is a fool for five minutes, but he who does not ask remains a fool forever"

It's almost like the currently used quote of there are no stupid questions, only stupid people (who don't ask questions). Much as l like South Park for its irony, lampooning and irreverent humor, they do often have moments of brilliance.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Just giving some thanks to those that have been keeping me busy with so many rp's, new and old.

I've learned a lot from all of you, and hopefully you'll all keep challenging me and letting me throw in my easter eggs now and again! lol

Tesora who has kept the romance alive

Panakananana who lets me keep using my Bernard Cornwell themes

And all the rest of you with your PM rp's...thanks, it's been a great few months!
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Another day home because of snow...I don't mind the snow so much except the shoveling. Growing up here we got a lot of snow and I thought it was great, because as a kid I didn't shovel. Now I have to if I want to get my car out, so the beauty is somewhat muted.

Or as I noted to someone I was chatting with recently - it gives us something to bitch about.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Something I wrote many years ago, definitely influenced by too many Twilight Zone episodes. Cleaned up some text, but otherwise still about the same.
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Shuffling his feet down the crowded sidewalk, eyes averting all those around him, there was nothing he wanted to see in anyone else. In all of them there was nothing but a reflection of something that he did not want to face. Not seeing the crowd that had gathered at the street corner, lights revolved and flashed in vivid reds and brilliant blues. A body lay in the street at the end of a car leaking trails of smoldering black rubber, the body unmoving under the plastic shroud a faint outline of chalk. Men in uniforms moved about, as he looked down at his feet again, where a penny rolled around the feet of so many others to stop at his foot. Reaching down picked up the bright, copper coin, clutching it in a tight fist as he was jostled about by others moving through the crowd with cameras and notebooks at the ready.
Turning away unconcerned like so many others, laughing at it as another unlucky body lying in the street, he continued his march down the cold sidewalk to the address he had been hurrying to. Entering the building, the coin clutched in his hand as he stepped into the empty elevator, pushing the button to his floor. Entering his small unnoticed cubicle to begin another half-day’s work. Alone in his small island of privacy within the loud room, he flipped the coin in short gleaming arcs. It fell resoundingly into his wide palm, it looked strange against his flesh the glimmering coin dropping as a cold drop into his warm skin. It was different in some ethereal way, not like any other penny he had ever seen, taking another from his pocket looked at both and found the one from his pocket dull, almost lifeless. There was something about the shiny looking coin, as if some inner life had been breathed into it, which gave it a mark of distinction. A uniqueness that was not noticeable in the other one that lay lifeless in his hand.
Placing the dead, lifeless coin in his pocket, kept the shiny one between his fingers where he felt it cold, almost calm against his skin. At each step he felt different. With each flip of the coin his attitude freshened, youth flowed again through his limbs, rejuvenating his soul. As if he was brought back from the dead to the living. Out of the corners of his eyes he noticed the others in the office eyeing him, as if in only a half hour lunch some significant change had come over him. They eyed him with something akin to envy, almost a new understanding or notice of him, like he had always dreamed everyone would of him someday.
He would be the new thought in his friend’s lives instead of the casual acquaintance he had always turned out to be, or the victim of numerous blind dates gone bad on both ends. Now all would look at him and see his inner self, bright with new confidence and esteem. A dream come true for him, now no one would pick on him. While he flipped the coin in the air, before eyes that darted about to catch the stares of the others and slowly follow the spinning arc of the bright coin. Putting the coin in his pocket with one last look he was back to work with a fervor few had never known he possessed. It was a new beginning, one he had always wanted to take but had somehow never gotten around to finding.
All afternoon the secretaries and others of his department came to him with his usual work but in a different way, they either stayed a little longer chatting about irrelevant things or had a look in their eyes. There was little he didn't notice then and as the afternoon wore on he became more acute to it all instead of deafened as was his norm. On the way back, the trains not as crowded when he stepped on them always finding a seat and when he felt like giving it up on the long ride there was a nice looking woman who would take it. They chatted easily, how he found the words he will never know but they came to his tongue like pearls of wisdom, the right words at the right time, and they all worked. He had two tentative dates before he returned to his meager apartment, which as he entered looked to be cleaner than when he had left, the dishes not as numerous or as dirty.
Always he held his penny or kept it next to him, whether because of it or his new attitude he felt better than he could remember. Its life seeping into his own, the shine in the penny rubbing off on him. Dinner tasted better when he ordered out, so much for so little, he though as he sat on his bed looking at the penny hoping he could get the promotion that was up in his department.
On his way to work met again one of the young women he had seen on his way home the day before. She invited him out after work, he who had never so much as been able to talk to another so easily was invited out. In high spirits the whole day met the young woman after work for dinner and drinks ending up at her place and spending most of the evening there. Hidden away from prying eyes in the bedroom. Leaving he flipped the coin on his way home walking through a neighborhood that he never would have dared at any other time, now he felt as if he could take on anyone. No one approached or challenged him as he whistled his way home not even afraid of the footsteps that he might have heard behind him and would have jumped at a few days ago.
Whatever it was that he felt changed and challenged inside him kept up its flow for time, he rose promotion after promotion through the company meeting others who liked him as he was. One woman who he would never talked to before introduced herself and began settling herself with him until they were married, when they were he inherited some property from his out of touch brother. Moving there it was secluded and perfect for them to begin raising a family, the acres of land were far enough from town to be secluded and beautiful; untouched by the hand of man and close enough to be secure. With the lucky penny always at his side its face was slightly worn from his constant rubbing of it, but its face still stood out after all these years.
Standing on his porch one day staring off into the trees thinking he had seen something, knowing he didn't, taking a few deep breaths of the fresher air. Behind him a hand fell softly on his shoulder, he knew her intimate touch and taking her hand in his kissed her fingers. "Are you happy love?"
"How can you ask that?" She answered surprised, "you know I am."
Turning to her with a smile he kissed her sweet lips and pushing back her long hair then kissed her earlobes, "I was just curious..."
"I'm pregnant," she simply interrupted him.
Happy beyond words he reached down and kissed her hands again as she looked demure, he raised her chin and gave her the longest kiss ever given to her. How long the months of term passed by as he worked from the house always with her not wanting to leave her for a moment, driving into town to get her what she craved when he could. Before the time arrived he had a hint as to when it might happen, he had others but not as strong as this, packing her suitcase he was right and drove like a fiend to the hospital where she gave birth to twins. Boys who he treasure and loved with all his heart, on their birthday he sat them on his lap and as he rubbed his coin had them make birthday wishes, at times he made them come true and on rare occasions they simply did.
When he had taken his sons to visit a relative of hers he had become bored and drove back into the city and back on the sidewalk where he had walked that fateful day where he had seen the aftermath. It was then that the penny had come to him of its own volition, had become his mindless rubbing piece, the face faint now and worn but still visible. Gleaming as it had when he first picked it up all those years ago, he held it before him as he drove and looking at it did not see until the last moment the car before him. Slamming a foot down on the brake pedal with a surge of fear and adrenaline running through him, settling uneasily in his stomach he stopped and stared open mouthed at the stupidity before him. Feeling smaller and turning off the street, the stopped car was gone, leaving in its wake a momentary terror and his empty parking space. With luckily an hour left on the meter, parking the car in the space he got out and walked back down the street.
Buildings which had been tall when he was younger and working for the company as a featureless employee, a company he was now part owner of, those same buildings were now taller as he strained his neck in the darkening of the late afternoon. Feet followed aimlessly the pavement now smoother and more crowded with the trampling of numerous feet, unwittingly following backwards the very steps he had taken here years ago. Making his way through the tides of pedestrians down to the small deli, which was no longer there, where he had eaten lunch, a day that kept in his memory.
It was change brought on by a simple penny on that afternoon that had brought him all he had, a penny's worth of wisdom had brought him a dollars’ worth of life. Clichés he had always been fond of, especially when dealing with pennies, which he used over and over again. A few times he had spoken of his obsession with his penny to his wife and she tittered in her loving way and kissing him on his forehead patting his shoulders and saying, "whatever makes you happy."
Older and wiser he felt it was but a symbolic gesture of the penny's effect on him, it had to have been a change inside him waiting to come forth. He could have consulted mystics and seers that dotted the alleyways and out of reach hovels in the city, but why bother he always said to himself. “What I got I had brought to me from hard determination and nothing more”, it was his answer to himself that built as he rubbed the penny.
Returning down the street he flipped the coin between his hands and in low arcs from his palm always catching the shiny penny. Standing on the corner where he had found it rolling to his feet he stood once more and while he waited for the light to change and flipped his coin. As he did thoughts which had had brought themselves from his self's inner depths came and with one long toss he brought his hand away and the penny dropped. It bounced once at his foot as he stepped into the street its brilliant reflection in the corner of his eye as he stepped across the roadway to where he heard the scream.
It was as if the scream came from behind him, turning his head saw the looks of terror on their scattered fear-ridden faces, hands going before them to shield themselves from what was going to happen. A loud and long sound echoed in his ears as he turned and the darkened object struck him with a sudden push that threw him hard into the street. There he watched the penny roll with a metallic shrug across his field of vision to disappear beyond, as a feeble arm reached for it while it rolled into the gathered crowd around him. Once more the white chalk marred the dark surface of tar, enclosed an inanimate body reaching outwards with limp fingers for something eternally beyond its reach.
Somewhere beyond all things a boatman laughed to himself as a figure came to his boat without the simple and required fare of all souls who pass beyond life. A penny.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Happy Valentines Day to all my partners no matter how long it was, you're all wonderful!
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Happy New Year of the Goat!!!
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Grilled Cheese!!!

I do make bread every week, cause I love freshness, but now I have a new reason. Grilled Cheese!
So simple really.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Reading through some old story ideas I had find it amusing that Houses feature in some of my original writing thoughts. It's like one of the few objects, or structures, that can get their own personality or malevolence. Still, why not a benevolent house? Usually they are haunted, have some sort of bad past or something else that generates an evil aura. I am in an rp where I play a part of a spirit in a house that possesses others, of course it can take a sexual turn, but it won't be nice overall, but that is the fun of it all.

Just once, I'd like see something about a good house. Why not let people be helped out for once? Wish I could come up with something original for that.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

When thinking about writing posts, since I am in a self-critical phase, I started to plan in my head more about how and what I write. Typically I try to add in at least three senses somewhere in a paragraph, whether in an adjective, introspection or description. That, to me, makes it all real. Gives a connection from the words to the reader.

Otherwise it comes across as watching a movie where you can see and hear, but don't really get the sense of it all. Or if you are into cinema, the difference between watching something on a home tv v. an Imax with comfy seats and someone to bring you hot, buttered popcorn and beer.

Many times I put my character cap on, take a breath, and be them. Let the words come out, trying to put into words what I see through their eyes. Adding in details as I can, or on edit, later on to put some flesh on the bones. I know I have some more weaknesses, or think I do, but this was one of the first ones I thought about, and getting it down somewhere sort of makes it real for me. Makes me think about it more, and later, when I write.
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

boyo111 said:
Many times I put my character cap on, take a breath, and be them. Let the words come out, trying to put into words what I see through their eyes. Adding in details as I can, or on edit, later on to put some flesh on the bones. I know I have some more weaknesses, or think I do, but this was one of the first ones I thought about, and getting it down somewhere sort of makes it real for me. Makes me think about it more, and later, when I write.

That's how it is for me. *nods* Very immersive. I should have taken acting classes because a lot of times when I write/plan a scene, whether for a story or rp, I say shit aloud, I either say it in the tone I hear it as the scene plays like a movie in my head, or I simply mouth the words. I really don't have control over whichever happens. ^^; Anybody watching would think I'm crazy, ha! I'm very dialogue and action focused when planning a scene, so, I usually hang onto pieces of conversation or internal dialogue/narrative for a post I would like to do. Very rarely do I go back and edit a post, all of it is built one brick at a time. I've often likened it to wrapping a long string around the tip of a stick that you hold in your hands. I go backwards, unraveling/deleting lines or paragraphs to return to an earlier part I already put down, but then start winding the ribbon over and over itself on the tip of this stick, including all descriptors and details, flowing out one after the other.

How is your process? Does it work like something similar or different?

Very intriguing observations for this morning. Thank you for that. ^^

As for an earlier post, regarding the menace of houses, it's based on the house as an archetype, a symbolic representation of the head, the mind, in Jungian psychoanalytical theory. Usually, you see this trope when newcomers are moving into a new place or entering the new space, it's like entering an unfamiliar mind with god only knows what lurking in the internal chambers or shadows left behind by previous occupants. Or sometimes, it's people already living in a house but bringing something sinister into, letting something unknown and dark free to roam one's internal spaces, turning a once safe and well-known place against you, turning the mind against itself. Very rarely do we have people who know themselves completely, with all those skeletons hanging in closets, so, very rarely is a "house/mind" well adjusted enough to help the owner protect themselves when an evil is introduced. That's just my take on it. ^^;
 
RE: Boyo's Place of Prose and Doze - Drive By's Welcome

Yes, my process is very similar. I look at it as the words flow from me and at times it all comes out spot on, and with a cursory glance I am done. Sometimes I end up with the feeling that though I have just "felt" the character while writing I didn't capture it completely. Then I edit it. Sometimes I will write then not look for a day or so and reread to make sure it says what I want. At times I will search through what I wrote looking for sensory details, that is my big catch now, where if I am in a room or in a place, I need one or touch senses touching it, describing a detail or something about the scene to give it some depth.

I have done the dialogue, though I feel that is a weak spot for me, at times speaking it aloud or in a whisper (if people are nearby) works out and I get an idea for the meter of the words. Either they feel awkward, and I know no one would ever speak like that, or it flows like a natural conversation.

Seems like I am not the only one building things up, and if I saw you writing and talking I wouldn't think you crazy. I'd be thinking, well its not just me.

Interesting about houses, never was much into psychology but that sounds like a good basis for it all. Nice touch there.
 
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