Once again I asked for prompts on the FediVerse; this one is from @Teryl_Pacieco@mastodon.social
Content warning: intoxication.
“I’m just saying, I’m just saying. I’m just saying.”
Effie stared at her hand for a moment before aiming an accusatory glance at Will. “What – what did you put in my drink?”
Will put up both hands. “I swear, I swear, it was just what you asked for. It’s a jack and coke with a big twist of cherry syrup, that’s it. Same thing I made for you three weeks ago.”
On the other couch, Selene and Drick were giggling, not a look that was all that good on Drick. “It’s not the drink. It’s not, because I’m drinking straight tonic from the bottle.” Selene held up her bottle. “And it’s thus not Will.” Continue reading
Once again I asked for prompts on the FediVerse and Ciel offered me a lovely one.
Content warning: bondage.
The noise of the city vanished in Mackenzie’s lair; everything vanished in her lair. The floor was soft, the walls were painted a very pale blue, and the hooks overhead were painted to match the slightly darker blue of the very durable ceiling. The cabinets along one wall were placed so that they more or less vanished into a shadow; the door itself was hidden in the shadows of those cabinets.
When you walked in, when Mackenzie set the lights just so, you could pretend there was nothing else in the world but you, her, and the room.
Right now, Bran was feeling as if Mackenzie’s smile was its own fourth participant. “I saw you with Antony the other night, your video.” She licked her lips.
Bran raised his eyebrows. “That’s the thing Antony and I do,” he answered carefully. He and Mackenzie had a very well-defined relationship, both inside and outside of this room. Jealousy had never entered into it, jealousy for either of them. She had a boy who kept her bed warm most nights and cooked her dinner. He had Antony he tied up on camera, and Kef most weekends, in and out of the club. Continue reading
I wanted something to write and, forgetting I still had a stack of prompts, I asked for prompts on the FediVerse and @Milouchkna linked me to this prompt. What came from it is definitely interesting. Little dark – content warning, blood mention, alcohol mention, some violence.
Allen O’Dale’s was the sort of place you didn’t walk into twice if the clientele didn’t want you there.
You’d think that the proprietor would complain when someone walked up to a stranger, looked them over once or twice, and said “find another place, friend,” but not the eponymous owner of the little tavern on a side road just outside a small town that itself was on the borders of a medium-big rust belt city. No, O’Dale would just tut and say “that’s good money you sent away,” not really sounding like it mattered, and the jar on the counter would fill up with coins and bills.
Any other place, someone might complain about the antecedents of the money, but not here. After all, if anyone was going to know where to spend those strange iridescent bills or the weird hexagonal coins, it was going to be O’Dale.
And nobody else was going to complain about what their change got made in. For one, you complained at Allen O’Dale’s, you had to find someplace else to drink, to play pool, to shoot darts, and to find… friends. Continue reading