“Your fancy girl, is it?” she says, brisk but not unkindly.

“Aren’t you supposed to have one of your new buddies along?”

Captain Timni sits at a table, tea steaming in front of her, and stares into the middle distance of shivery-leafed artrees and bustle.

“Do not,” she says, firm and ominous. “No talking. You terrible, awful weasel.”

“Did you know,” Pamnaxxa says, “that Sultrix Baqqorax had a cable TV show in the late 80s?”

“You want to teleport a big-titted slut into sad-sack twinks’ bedrooms?”

“Do you,” the dwarf ventures meekly, “that is, elves — do elves read theory?”

Content notices for: non- and at-best-dubious consent; public sex

What was a robot doing at a social drinking event, anyway? She’s an appliance, and she can’t drink.

Hands hammer on the cargo lifter’s hatch. “Fridgemeat! Open up!”

We have researched the concept of a worker’s union, the ship informs her.

“It’s a ball,” the dirter says, sounding embarrassed, as if acutely aware that sounds stupid.

Domestic ordinariness is somehow wonderful.

”…Shirts?” Gemma says blankly.

“I’m getting wife time for this,” xie says. “So unless you want me to wife you....”

Cohost Sapphic September 2024 writing prompt: 14 ­— Girls who are comical

“They call it Sodomy Doll.”

“It’s,” she says feebly, “it’s how the men talk. It’s just — you understand.”

Maybe Antsy dissociates a little, sitting in dulled pain and covered in drying blood.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Antsy says, loud and brisk and unfriendly.

A feeling gathers, like a storm-warning headache. She stays where she is, loose, hands empty and visible.

It’ll be fine.

“Alvin,” he says. “Alvin Frankenstein. Of the Boston Frankensteins.”

“How long,” Bettina says, high-pitched, “is this…safe?”

“I’d like to drug you sometime,” Malsi said, smiling, twisted two fingertips in, shot a staple into ær neck—

The khan sits in her tent and humours the emissary from the Empire to the west.

Content notices for: dubious consent

There’s a bunch of ways to do magic.

“T wouldn’t know what to do if she wasn’t pissed about something,” she sighs.

The mech is the ideal fascist battlefield hero: an unreasoning terror weapon that walks like a man.

Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Mech-Pilots — Mech Pilot who is running out of decal space

It’s been five years since they fitted Trina’s prosthetics.

“Fffffffuck,” Kira says, as the unmistakeable sounds of mayhem break out in another room. She rummages through the desk drawers she’s ransacking a little...

With apologies, because “Any sufficiently intense curry is indistinguishable from smut” is one heck of a line.

“Hey.”

Content notices for: consensual non-consent kink scene; use of the word "rape" within a CNC scene by a participant to describe what's happening

“It feels so good to be held,” she murmurs.

“Dum-dum,” Yuki says, condescendingly fond.

“Oh shit, look,” Pamnaxxa says, pointing.

Make Up A Criminal — Bounty Hunter who you gave yourself up to to avoid another

Demoncember writing prompt — Demon who got summoned by a vampire hoping for an easy meal. But the demon blood is not going to agree with them

Dreamwidth Vamptober writing prompt: @meli_writes — Vampire whose bites just really fucking hurt — did you expect some magic bullshit?

Make Up A Criminal‬ — Thief who shouldn’t have tried on the shiny thing they stole

Two different events book spaces in the back of the community library, and Evie amuses herself a little by watching scared little newbies wander in from the...