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here you go pt 1

Imma do this in two parts I think

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In that place it's impossible not to wonder if the human soul could find its way to heaven if you, say, slipped and cracked your head on the spotless curb. "Go towards the light" has little currency is a place where neon supremacy outdoes the sky.

The moon and stars are tawdy and meek by comparison.

You are pretty sure you came here looking for something but you've lost your way in a labryinth of storefronts haloed by half-understood japanese sigils. You bought something that reminded you of food and put it in your mouth, and hey, it was delicious. Your alienation is intoxicating but your watch has stopped and the feeble stars overhead seem to have shifted and danced overhead and you are arriving at the realization that you have been devoured by this district.

So you wander through this fabulous intestine, pulled forward by the muscular movement of the crowd. You buy things. You thrust money into the hands of clever merchants in exchange for arcane wires and flat panels with interlocking touchscreens begging to be touched, the purpose of which objects is irrelevant next to your need to own them.

The crowd washes around your ankles. You forget them. The alleys seem to be getting narrower, the lights less persistent. It is unimaginable that it should be dark in this place so when you look up and can't see farther than the nearest wall you are at first too surprised to be afraid.
 
part 2 (and aurantica's lube thing, and whoever else's other things) might have to wait until tomorrow because I have sword-related responsibilities tonight.

true story.
 
I think I'm in love. I hope his Steviness accepts my fet friend request.
 
Lord_Steve said:
Imma do this in two parts I think

----------------------------------------------------


In that place it's impossible not to wonder if the human soul could find its way to heaven if you, say, slipped and cracked your head on the spotless curb. "Go towards the light" has little currency is a place where neon supremacy outdoes the sky.

The moon and stars are tawdy and meek by comparison.

You are pretty sure you came here looking for something but you've lost your way in a labryinth of storefronts haloed by half-understood japanese sigils. You bought something that reminded you of food and put it in your mouth, and hey, it was delicious. Your alienation is intoxicating but your watch has stopped and the feeble stars overhead seem to have shifted and danced overhead and you are arriving at the realization that you have been devoured by this district.

So you wander through this fabulous intestine, pulled forward by the muscular movement of the crowd. You buy things. You thrust money into the hands of clever merchants in exchange for arcane wires and flat panels with interlocking touchscreens begging to be touched, the purpose of which objects is irrelevant next to your need to own them.

The crowd washes around your ankles. You forget them. The alleys seem to be getting narrower, the lights less persistent. It is unimaginable that it should be dark in this place so when you look up and can't see farther than the nearest wall you are at first too surprised to be afraid.
Click to expand...

...it's like you're in my mind.
 
ok three parts I lied (point out my comma splices and die)

Hands, in the darkness.

You remember how sharks, approaching a swimmer, will butt and brush and rasp to see if this flailing object is alive, if it will bleed.
So, a hand, on your arm. Curiously courtly, as if to escort you to a dance. As you turn, it slips away. You say something in english, and the night laughs.

Your leg next, and the back of your neck. Somehow the radius of your vision has irised inward, it is like you are trapped in a black shell two feet in every direction.

You are being herded. You flit away from hands on your hip, up your skirt, down your back, and find more. You can't imagine how many, but the night seethes with long fingers and slender arms, but no faces. Just so many amputee limbs grasping at your flesh.

You can taste the lust of this city. There are no individuals groping you, plucking at your clothes, it is the buildings and the sidewalks and the signs in the distance that look like they were carved out of frozen lightning. The elemental erection of the city is present in the breath, in the heartbeats, in the footfalls of this mob.

There is a door. You are being held. You are led through.
 
Lord_Steve said:
Hands, in the darkness.

You remember how sharks, approaching a swimmer, will butt and brush and rasp to see if this flailing object is alive, if it will bleed.
So, a hand, on your arm. Curiously courtly, as if to escort you to a dance. As you turn, it slips away. You say something in english, and the night laughs.

Your leg next, and the back of your neck. Somehow the radius of your vision has irised inward, it is like you are trapped in a black shell two feet in every direction.

You are being herded. You flit away from hands on your hip, up your skirt, down your back, and find more. You can't imagine how many, but the night seethes with long fingers and slender arms, but no faces. Just so many amputee limbs grasping at your flesh.

You can taste the lust of this city. There are no individuals groping you, plucking at your clothes, it is the buildings and the sidewalks and the signs in the distance that look like they were carved out of frozen lightning. The elemental erection of the city is present in the breath, in the heartbeats, in the footfalls of this mob.

There is a door. You are being held. You are led through.
Click to expand...

Stunning.
 
Lord_Steve said:
Hands, in the darkness.

You remember how sharks, approaching a swimmer, will butt and brush and rasp to see if this flailing object is alive, if it will bleed.
So, a hand, on your arm. Curiously courtly, as if to escort you to a dance. As you turn, it slips away. You say something in english, and the night laughs.

Your leg next, and the back of your neck. Somehow the radius of your vision has irised inward, it is like you are trapped in a black shell two feet in every direction.

You are being herded. You flit away from hands on your hip, up your skirt, down your back, and find more. You can't imagine how many, but the night seethes with long fingers and slender arms, but no faces. Just so many amputee limbs grasping at your flesh.

You can taste the lust of this city. There are no individuals groping you, plucking at your clothes, it is the buildings and the sidewalks and the signs in the distance that look like they were carved out of frozen lightning. The elemental erection of the city is present in the breath, in the heartbeats, in the footfalls of this mob.

There is a door. You are being held. You are led through.
Click to expand...


Nnnggguuuhhh.... *thud*

:heart:
 
Your writing astounds me. You're way better than your dad was ;)

Sometimes I even creep myself out with these familial fantasies.
 
Kybele said:
bastard! he's ignoring my friend request! :mad:
Click to expand...

no, i swear! I just sort of forgot i have a fetlife and also lost power at my house for a day or so, living as I do on the highest peak of a windswept crag in an ornate gothic mansion teeming with catamite servants and vampish maids.

god basically treats my powerlines like they were cobwebs in His house
 
part three i'm a little drunk on gin and sunshine just a warning.

Too bright. Every atom of your eyeballs is screaming. You are tied to a chair. They have put a light in your eyes. You realize this, and do not calm down.

There are four, or five. Their silhouettes keep blending and twisting against the light. It's hard to say. You go to cover your eyes but your wrists are tied. The cord is plastic and cold and smooth.

A face blocks the light. Your eyes adjust, but slowly, you see glasses and a sharp face. The pain in your wrists shimmers and pulls at your thoughts but you are too, too scared to hurt.

The light is suddenly gone. The darkness hurts and pulls at you. You feel like running in every direction and it is like there is a small creature with sharp claws caged in your ribs.

"You are here because we have been waiting. You don't know for how long." The voice is accented, but not in a way you recognize. There is a hand on your thigh. "You are ours. There are many of us. Spread your legs."
 
ok sorry about the wait etoile i have been stupidly busy. Also, i'm sure you wanted something more explicit but I know for a fact that at least two people I have seen naked in a sexual context read this thread and i'd rather keep things pg-13 for that reason!

OK!

Come at me with some story/poem ideas. I'll clear up some of my backlog tomorrow, but don't be shy, lurkers!
 
Lord_Steve said:
no, i swear! I just sort of forgot i have a fetlife and also lost power at my house for a day or so, living as I do on the highest peak of a windswept crag in an ornate gothic mansion teeming with catamite servants and vampish maids.

god basically treats my powerlines like they were cobwebs in His house
Click to expand...

OK and I'm now placated. and you are by far the most domly dominate in all of my friends. When ya gonna post some pictures? and you should have your own fetish group too.
 
c'mon you guys! give me something to write about. My lunch break won't last forever.
 
wow i had to force myself to stop writing in the second person present tense. weird.

I guess this also applies to dianthus' pm request too!

satindesire said:
Gardening. Pulling weeds, water cans, work gloves. That kind of thing.
Click to expand...

Fingerdeep in loam, finding roots and following them through the livingrooms of ants and beetles, Jane tore weeds from her garden.

Her flowers grew tall like emperors wrapped in robes of every color worth mentioning. They stood together and watched her work and sweat, bobbing lazily in the summer breeze.

The air hummed with birdcalls and the vibrating lives of insects tracing lackadaisical patterns of predation and copulation in the spaces between the flowers. Jane salted the ground with her perspiration.

The neighbors watched her from their high windows. She has worked for three years at this garden, snipping and digging and never looking up. Is this really what she intended? they wonder. Maybe it's a mistake or a coincidence.

From three stories up, Jane's garden looks like a large, naked man flipping the bird to the sky. The veins of his flowery cock are picked out in vivid roses. Jane hasn't laughed in three years, but she's been smiling the whole time.
 
Steverino! You're da bomb.

Amusing, witty, and with a definitely light touch through the keyboard. I'm glad Etoile brought you to our attention, and vice versa.
 
ok what the fuck
why is my face compressed like that.

aaah that's weird! ok so that's not what I look like but it's close.
 
So while I am normally quite content lingering in the shadows of this thread and gathering my enjoyment in the corners. I have been tormented with a dream as of late. Though ‘dream’ is a term I use loosely here since it could really be a nightmare.

The background images are unclear and I wake before it really even begins but not before they make their appearance… the inkwell and the pen. The ink, dark and glassy shines through the sparkling crystal while the pen rests next to it; it’s silver edges glinting. I feel drawn to them but without the urge to use them and even as I fight the surge to flee.

Bleh but I digress, as it’s images are still locked in my mind. However, it is precisely that feeling and the open invitation issued that led me to the epiphany…

Why not edge briefly into the light and take it to Lord Steve?! Perhaps his wit and cleverness with the written word can interpret the story or poem of the inkwell and the pen. Perhaps his all around Domliness can reveal the meaning. Hmm perhaps he can just get it the hell out of my subconscious… yes, that one!

Lord Steve will you please save me from this loop of antique writing implements?
 
Lord_Steve said:
ok what the fuck
why is my face compressed like that.

aaah that's weird! ok so that's not what I look like but it's close.
Click to expand...

Lord_Steve, you're hot.

Okay, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but... you kind of look like a girl. Just a little. Mostly in the fleshy area with the cartilage that covers your giant brain.

Maybe it's just me.
 
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