Ghost In The Piazza
._ luca thought to himself accusing the heat for such a spur of purplish prose. at least he hadn't said it out loud!
Sky Ocean Chapter 17
Harvy is truly...living poetry...the likes of which no mortal could ever pen...she is a masterpiece...gaea's prose...and my salvation."
The Beginner's Guide to RPing - Roleplay BREAKDOWN
I obviously can't -tell- her what her scent is, but i don't want to ruin the rp with such obvious directives as, "\*inhales her scent, wondering what it is\*" unless it is well masked in prose or something. the same goes for orgasms.
Christmas For Stoners
He was in fact a very nice guy when not cracking the whip, despite being as prone to talking in purple prose as ever. he'd brought the kinky new wellies as a gift: high heeled and printed all over with a marijuana leaf design.
Rocks Through Windows
In poetic, serious prose. "i do think, pyro, that ... you have potential. it's why i like you so much." "get out," pyro growled. "are you going to make me?" "i have mental blocks ... i can resist you better than the others can."
The Wolves of Gryning: Chapter 8
Chapter 8: The Immortals The River of Ash is the longest river in the Northern Kingdoms. It originates in the Lake of the Moon, which itself is located in the mountains along the Rim of the World, less than a hundred leagues Northeast of Hollow. The...
The Fourth Siren
Disclaimer - This is a work of erotic fiction. Please do not read if it would be unlawful for you to do so. The Fourth Siren The cool salt water of the ocean enveloped him as he splashed overboard, causing a moment of fear before his head broke the...
From Heaven, or Near It: Part 1 (Book 4)
BOOK FOUR The airplane landed in the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport and they were scheduled to fly again in an hour. The next plane would land in McGhee Tyson in Knoxville. It seemed like they'd already waited hours, but nothing changed,...
The City of Lost Heaven: Chapter 17
Chapter 17 By the time I was sixteen, I found myself alone. Most of Stagworth, the private, prey-only school I attended, had heard of my little 'incident.' That's what my mother called it. And high schoolers don't let each other forget anything....
A Tale of Showers, Sprained Ankles, and Unlikely Love
They'd hardly known eachother a year, but the fast friends were well acquainted quicker than he could run a fifty yard dash, or she could learn a page of prose.
Maybe You Could Be Friends With Rory
Colin mist-fellow had revealed himself a nice cat, not too big in the head, even apologizing when he spent about fifteen minutes in wide-eyed explanation of how it felt like to put words down on paper and trap time in them, eternally represented there in his prose
The Editor
When the strange sernade of prose ended, harold had to shake himself from a trance. the imagery which came to him was a mixture of so many other stories he had read, that he wondered about its quality.