bakerstreet | drabbles.

DRABBLE! (From Wiki) A short work of fiction of one hundred words in length. The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined space.

How to play -

1. Top-level with your character. Include prefs and info as you like.
2. Others respond to your top level with a tag of exactly 100 words in length, inspired by one of 100 prompt words below. Take it from there.
3. Optional hard mode! Every tag in your thread has to be drabble-length - or you can stick to it being just the starter, I'm not the cops.
4. Happy writing!

TABLE A

01	Biology	02	Pain	03	Wine	04	Sand
05	Queen	06	History	07	Electricity	08	Illness/Disease
09	Horizon	10	Comedy	11	Stranger	12	Tree
13	Cotton	14	Smoke	15	Faith	16	Gold
17	Assumption	18	Coffee	19	Talent	20	Run
21	Thirty	22	Tentacles	23	Walk	24	Purple
25	Heat	26	Wolf	27	Spirit	28	Era
29	Vibration	30	Toy	31	Surrender	32	Deep
33	Pages	34	Fortune	35	Rain	36	Weapon
37	Judge	38	High	39	Bound	40	Space
41	Icon	42	Trail	43	Tight	44	Tantalize
45	Space	46	Safe	47	Minute	48	Race
49	Reunion	50	Moon

TABLE B

01	Pleasure	02	Restraint	03	Wings	04	Rainbow
05	Focus	06	Road	07	Sixteen	08	Poison
09	Endure	10	Motion	11	Monster	12	Wall
13	Lace	14	Disturb	15	Period	16	Regret
17	Legs	18	Pearls	19	Ink	20	Tourist
21	Supernova	22	Culture	23	Laundry	24	Pacify
25	Hostile	26	Smooth	27	Model	28	Crawl
29	Kink	30	Claw	31	Sink	32	Dark
33	Street	34	Detonate	35	Treasure	36	Blanket
37	Rebirth	38	Wilderness	39	Passion	40	Shock
41	Follow	42	Fantasy	43	Sweet	44	Luck
45	Alchemy	46	Pressure	47	View	48	Jury
49	Joy	50	Jazz

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ooc; Info in profile, permissions here. OTA for shipping, wide open to gen, only no is smut. Preference for historical settings. She heralds from France in the 1910's, but I can AU her into any point between 1800 and 1930's. Either throw me a starter or give me one (or more) prompt(s) and I'll write one for you! Can do hard mode. ]

[ OOC: *waves* Went ahead and just tossed him + options at you because prompting is fun. (Also, this just seems to be how I'm doing things lately, so yeah.)

Assumptions + pages
Street + fortune
Tree + regret
Moon + sink
Fantasy + disturb ]

Edited (Good fucking god, I need to stop starting things and then getting distracted and forgetting to read comments before sending.) 2023-02-20 19:40 (UTC)

[ ooc; all good choices, I ran with this. let me know if you need anything changed! ]

She knows this corner. Clémence once made a fortune here, meeting a Russian aristocrat. Money for food had lasted her months.

Lilith doesn’t expect the same luck. Clémence says she is pretty, and she says she is sweet, the gentlemen will flock around her. There was a time they did.

Besides, Lilith is familiar with the way to this place. It isn’t too far, and on a good day, very busy. Listening for footfalls, she only calls out when they come alone, “monsieur, let me brighten your day.”

The words are always the same. The shame, with time, has abated.

The footfalls stop, the sound of clothes rustling and an mused chuckle replace them.

"I appreciate the offer," he begins, his voice carrying an accent that sounds as if it belonged to England but beyond that, sounded oddly generic. "But your services are not the sort I'm in search of."

But he doesn't walk away, not yet. Instead, he reaches into a pocket and pulls something out. The sound of paper folding and the footsteps starting up again, drawing close until he's near enough she can smell him. The first notes are clean and clear, tea, lemon and cleaned clothes. There's an undercurrent of something else though, smoke shot through with leather.

"I'll offer you something in return though, a small gift as a thank you for taking a chance."

He holds it out, letting the paper brush the top of her hand. It has a weight to it that betrays it as more than a shingle page. He's tucked tucked enough between the folds to keep most people comfortable for at least a month. He's sure she could probably stretch that out far longer than others though.

As he speaks, she turns her head towards him, her face open and earnest in the acceptance of his rejection. Men are rarely so polite, Lilith knows and smiles, softly, about to reply, when she hears him approach.

It is the sound of fear.

She has heard of fights and assaults on other women of the streets, she doesn’t expect herself to be the exception. Simply because she has never been, the exception. She wasn’t to her mother, she wasn’t on the stage – the whereabouts of her family, she shan’t say. Clémence told her the other day, though, a new ballerina is on the posters around town.

We are worth so little, she had mused. Every one of us, we are worth nothing at all.

He comes to a halt in front of her, there’s the sound of paper, rustling of clothes, she shifts and turns towards the sound until, as he’s so close that his scent embraces her, he trails paper, heavy paper, over the back of her hand. Carefully, she turns her hand palm up, so as not to drop anything, reaching for the paper that is crisp and clean between her fingers with both hands now. Holding it. Weighing it. Letting her fingertips run over the edges, recognising shape, size, feeling.

So much. So much she is worth.

“Monsieur,” she whispers, raising her chin to show him her face, her gratitude in it. Holding the notes between the fingers of her right hand, she reaches out for him with her left, fingers feeling for anything to grasp, to grab. She finds his forearm. Wrapped in layers, fabric, she digs her fingers into it, perhaps in desperation, perhaps in disbelief. “Do you want nothing in return? For such a gift…”

[ Open to both normal thread & 100 words only each tag. ]

[ Give or take 100 if I'm writing the starter! ]

[ The bottle spun out of control on the tiled floor. The dark contents spilling over onto the slick surface and between the grout. Lightning crashed outside just outside of the house; it was close enough where it might have hit a nearby tree. That's when the bottle started to fiercely rattle and crash onto the floor. Luckily nothing was broken or they would have a bigger mess than spilled bourbon on their hands and nearly clothes too. His hands grabbed a towel to soak up the mess with a chuckle. It seemed their luck hadn't been the best from the start. ]

[ Jill is in another room lighting up candles, setting one in a specific window to let Ellie know they're alright. It's a small thing they sometimes did when the weather went out of control and it was equally an invitation. The rain was a heavy torrent, so she's not expected to show up anytime soon, but the younger woman is always welcome wherever either of them are.

She stands in the door way and settles a candle on the countertop near the frame and a little distance from him. She's a bit wet from having been outside right as things started when she was trekking over to him and she walks around him to wring out her damp ponytail all over again in the kitchen sink with a faint laugh. ]

Well, there goes a bottle. [ But she's not making a big deal of it, looking out from beneath her arm as she runs her fingers through her hair and is quick to turn her back to the countertop. ] Do you need any help, babe?

[ That rare bonus unlocked of a sweet sentiment, laced with worry that he might've cut himself. ]

[ info & permissions! ]

[ Voicetesting! Open to cross-canon, handwaving timelines, and the like. M/M for shipping, no smut. Forgive my shitty icons lol ]

[Either throw me a starter or prompts and I can whip something up!♥]

[OTA. Everything about Ashley.]

A. Moon / Luck
B. Illness / Passion
C. Weapon / View
D. History / Monster
E. (( Whichever you want to do, I'm not the boss of you 🤣 ))

Harano; profound gloom, silent longing, lamentation for what is not yet lost. Those suffering from Harano fall into depression, mood swings and lassitude. As a master of the urban jungle, the Glass Walker’s neglect of his wild side carries a price, his wolf blood runs thin, making it easy to fall into Harano. After several long weeks of pain, healing and confinement he feels the darkness weighing heavily on his broad shoulders. In a vacant, overgrown park, under Luna’s radiant, gibbous glow Ashley feeds the wolf. A feral, animalistic dance that leaves him sweaty and filthy and the wolf full.

drabbles.

lilith doret | lucifer's tears | ota

no subject

street + fortune.

no subject

no subject

Darlington • Alex Stern Series • Ota

elia martell | asoiaf | ota

jill valentine | resident evil | ota

no subject

no subject

Dorian Storm | Critical Role | OTA

Birdie Lewis | OC | Vampire: The Masquerade | OTA

Jeritza von Hrym | Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Uzumaki Naruto | Naruto

natalie scatorccio | yellowjackets | ota.

achilles / greek mythology / ota

Bachira Meguru | Blue Lock | ota

Ash Cromwell | Werewolf the Apocolypse (Garou)

no subject

Moon - cross posting to his journal