#eeep!

[brbarou]

my wife and i don't argue she cuts my hand off and i dedicate my heart and soul to her

[lovesickvalentines]

getting into something with a decently sized roster is so embarrassing bcs I get greedy fast. now in my defense the other 2 crushes in g.nshin I haven't shown are characters I liked when I played it originally but but ugh so embarrassing... I don't wanna come off as a greedy bastard... might have 3 total who knows bare minimum 2 one is definitely gonna be official the other I'm just not sure

[galp4lentine]

Plotted starter for @ofrequiem

Jill had been surprised to hear that they were getting a new recruit directly into S.T.A.R.S. The going rumor was that the new hire was originally going to be a beat cop for the R.P.D. but Captain Wesker must have seen something extraordinary in her. It wasn't unprecedented—Wesker frequently did whatever he wanted—but it was rare enough that it had caused a bit of a stir in the weeks leading up to her arrival. Everyone was anxious to see what was so special about Grace Ashcroft, but Jill was more concerned with making sure she felt welcome.

The R.P.D. had a number of women among the ranks, but S.T.A.R.S. had always been a bit of a boys club. They were good men at heart, especially Barry and Chris, but at the end of the day they often didn't understand that it was simply different for Jill and Rebecca, and now Grace. Jill had initially planned on offering to give her a tour of the station and make a show of taking Grace under her wing, but that had changed the moment the other woman had stepped through the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office for the first time.

There had been a chorus of "Welcome!"s and introductions but Jill had been struck silent by the sight of her. There was definitely something special about Grace Ashcroft. She was visibly anxious as anyone would expect of someone on their first day on the illustrious task force. But there was also a quiet intelligence hidden beneath her awkwardness. On top of all that, Grace was simply too damn cute that it practically hurt and Jill couldn't stop staring at her.

Jill hadn't even realized it was her turn to introduce herself until Chris elbowed her in the ribs and hissed, "Earth to Jill!" She desperately hoped Grace hadn't noticed her staring, or the slight blush she felt warm her cheeks and she halfheartedly said, "Jill Valentine, welcome to the team." She offered her hand for a weak handshake accompanied by an even weaker smile. As Grace moved on, guilt coursed through Jill's veins. She had been no better than a typical guy, oogling Grace like a slab of meat and she hated herself for it.

Over the next few days, Jill's inner mantra became, "don't stare at the new girl, don't hit on the new girl" but before she realized it, that had accidentally turned into avoiding Grace altogether. Admittedly it wasn't that hard because it was Grace's first week and she was busy all the time. By Friday, Jill knew she had to put a stop to it, and she'd already been chided by some of the other members for being "aloof" all week. But more importantly, it wasn't fair to Grace, and Jill did want to offer to show her the ropes. What did it matter that Jill thought she was attractive? Grace probably wasn't even into women.

It was turning out to be a lazy day in the precinct, dominated by paperwork and admin. It was the perfect kind of day for a long lunch break. Most of the officers were in more casual clothing, and Jill was wearing a blue, cotton shirt with the S.T.A.R.S logo and a pair of fitted black trousers, her gun holstered on her hip. Jill couldn't believe how nervous she was as she sidled up to Grace's desk. She didn't usually get nervous, at least not from something as simple as talking to a coworker.

"Hi, Grace," she squeaked, because of course she did. "Jill?" she added, gesturing to herself because the blonde had probably forgotten her name considering she'd been a ghost all week. "It's pretty dead today, I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch?" Good, perfectly reasonable. "There's a good burger joint a few blocks away, and maybe I could you show some of our favorite haunts around RC?" Jill groaned on the inside because while that had sounded good in her head, out loud it definitely sounded like she'd just asked Grace out on a date. The slight waver in her voice and the flush in her face weren't helping either.

Why couldn't she just be normal around this woman?

[hannahssimblr]

The nights of the last gasp of study season seem as though they go on forever, and as I watch the clock on the wall of Michelle's cluttered dining room, I could swear on my life that time is slowing down. It takes an hour for five minutes to pass, while the numbers on the maths book in my hands seem to merge together into some sort of mathematical soup right in front of my eyes. 

For some reason, with Michelle and Jen nattering history facts to one another on the other side of the table, I think about Alison and what she might be doing right now on the eve of the summer exams. Is she pulling an all-nighter too? Maybe, but not for studying. Alison hardly needed to study at all, that’s how clever she was. Even in those party frenzied days of early winter when she and I would pop a molly and stay up until dawn gurning she would still appear in class the next day and answer the teachers questions perfectly with a bored nonchalance about her while I sweated in the seat behind her, fighting a battle that I would inevitably lose to the boys toilets by the eleven o’clock break. 

Alison won’t be studying, but maybe she’s popped a molly without me and is dancing somewhere, singing along to whatever pop song is charting right now and whipping her fiery hair about while I sit here for the eighth night in a row, making my way steadily through a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits that I foraged from the Tengu’s pantry. 

Maybe she’s even getting laid. I peer across the table at Jen and Michelle, pulling faces at one another and arguing over their bullet points for the battle of Stalingrad, and am struck with a reminder of the barren wasteland my sex life has become. It’s been months since I’ve been touched by someone who wasn’t myself and the outlook looks bleak. It’s doubtful that will change any time soon, so while there is every chance Alison is having sex literally right now, the chances for me are worse than being stuck down by a thunderbolt. 

Debra, pokes her head through the door, “I’m off to bed now, loves, is there anything you need before I go?”

Michelle rifles through a handful of flashcards, “No, mam, we’re fine.” 

“Right well, don’t stay up too late.”

“Uh, it’s an all-nighter. That means we’re staying up all night.”

“Well alright, Michelle, there’s no need to take that tone with me.”

“I’m not taking a tone, I'm just explaining something to you.”

“Well I feel like you’re taking a tone, Michelle, and I don’t appreciate it, especially in front of your friend.”

“Him? He’s Jen’s friend, and by the way-”

“Alright!” Jen interrupts, “Goodnight, Debra, we’ll see you in the morning.”

Debra steps back into the living room with a hassled, “Goodnight.”

I glance at Michelle, who stares back at me with the same naked fury simmering in her eyes that has been there since the library, daring me to speak to her, but I couldn't be bothered to traverse that landscape. Not a hope. These days I only speak to her when strictly necessary. I turn back to my books and start pencilling out another equation. 

As the night drags on, my eyelids become weighty as my focus slowly wavers, and Jen, in tandem, becomes lethargic in her seat, head lolling over the back of it, bleary eyes on the cornicing on the ceiling as though they hold the answers to the questions that Michelle is grilling her with. She will resign soon. I flip a page of my maths book and reach for another chocolate biscuit, only for my hand to connect with empty packaging. Did I really eat all that? Oh well, I’m still growing. 

My voice is croaky from disuse when I speak, “You have other snacks?”

Michelle acknowledges me reluctantly, “Cupboard above the microwave.” 

I raid her kitchen for half a packet of cheese tortillas, some penguin bars and some salted peanuts. At the back of the cupboard I spy Michelle’s precious Nutella, of which she started a war against her parents over during those fraught early days of her break up, and for some strange, vengeful moment I feel compelled to unscrew the lid and dunk my whole finger in it, lick it clean and then toss it back, hoping that by the time she notices what I have done I’ll be long gone. 

I return and throw a penguin bar across the spread of papers to Jen, who misses and it thwacks against the wall behind her. She groans at the prospect of picking it up, shifting her body like it is composed of lead and slumping to half heartedly scoop it from the floorboards with limp fingers. “I’m sleepy,” she groans, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Michelle is stern, “You’re not sleepy, you’re fine, just have more sugar.”

“No, I am. I can’t think anymore. I feel drunk.”

“Come on, Jenny,” I say with gentle encouragement as she hoists herself like a sack of potatoes back into the chair, “You can manage, just another hour, huh?”

“An hour? It’s already three in the morning. I can’t.”

Michelle places a hand on Jen’s, still clutching the chocolate, “We just have a few more things to get through, just to make sure we really have the best chance of good marks tomorrow, yeah?”

“And I’m, like, eighty percent through this maths stuff,” I chime in, “I want to have a look over quadratic equations and then just do a quick refresh on trig…”

Jen looks at us as though we’ve gone insane, “Then study that stuff,” she says incredulously, “I’m not stopping you.”

Michelle and I exchange guilty looks. 

“Why do you need me here to study? Are you afraid to be alone in the same room or something? God.”

Jen’s eyes are sunken and heavy, her makeup smudged from where she has been rubbing them, the same way she did as a child when everything got too much for her. “If you don’t let me sleep I am going to break down crying, so either study on your own or stop studying, I don’t care.” She heaves herself from the table and staggers towards the door, “Goodnight, losers. Talk or don’t talk, I couldn’t give less of a shit,” and with a yank on the french doors she is gone. 

And the clock ticks. 

And a page flips. 

And we don’t say a word.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Can I have sweet little turnip for Bobby/Athena? Or buddy if you dont write for them

okay so my first attempt at bobby/athena and it's mostly dialogue - which is so not my norm but that's the direction it went - hopefully ya like it luv 💚

this can also be found on ao3 if you'd rather

“I’m sorry can you repeat that?” “You sweet little turnip,” Athena says, shaking her head. The look on Bobby’s face is still a kind of adorable flabbergasted. “Okay, so I did hear you right, but …” Bobby trails off. “Is this one of those times where it sounds like you’re saying something nice, but it really means you don’t think I’m playing with a full deck of cards.” Athena smiles, “Not this time—this time, it’s quite simply that I find what you did and said adorably sweet.” “Wonderful, another one of those phrases that might be good or might mean I have a few screws loose.” “Well, you are regularly around people who have more than a few screws loose, so it was bound to happen to you as well.” She looks out at the rest of the 118 gathered in their backyard.  She’ll stand by the fact that they all have a few screws loose, but she’s never met a better group of people. They’ve spent all day helping them move things from storage into the new house, so they still have some things that are theirs mixed in with all the new. Every single one of these people has been here all day, helping in one way or another, and it’s made the day so much better than it would have been otherwise. “Should we get back out there?” Bobby asks, and she turns to him and nods. They walk back out, and instantly, they’re caught up in the conversations. At one point, she looks across at Bobby and then around at the rest of them. She doesn’t know what she did to get this lucky, but she’s glad she has.

WANNA SEND ME A PROMPT?

[succubus-interactivefiction]

Good news! Kinda

I'm back baby! Good news is that my current major projects Sym, In my, and Final G were all up to date on itch, so I've only lost a few hours work, no biggie.

Bad news, lost ALL my work on my secondary projects. So Sym spin offs went off into the void and I lost the few pages on the hypothetical Star Wars project, but that one is not so bad. Take away from this second major melt down?

SAVE MORE OFTEN!!! Seriously I need to save everything and always save either on my drop box, external ssd, or better yet both every time I finish ANY amount of work. Also another take away, I will be putting away a decent amount every month and come next Black Friday I'm getting a GOOD computer rather then the little cheapos I have always gotten because one dies and I have to scramble to replace it.

[devious-bliss]

To all the lees and switches out there, which one are you when you get caught off guard with tickles?

Eeep!

Ahh!

Other (comment below)

Voting ended onJul 13, 2023

[nomadical]

may your path be the sound of your feet upon the ground.

independent || private || mutuals only Paul “Jesus” Rovia from amc’s the walking dead

written by: dixon