#gh store

[shitpostdevil]

EVERYONE SHUT UP

CATNAP AND DOGDAY ARE HERE

These are the GH Store Cartoon versions of them- they also have all of the other smiling critters too!!!

#they look SO GOOD #poppy playtime #dogday #catnap #smiling critters #gh store #theyre holding hands

[dykestache]

hitting the bong with a hibiscus rose tea bag in it and then talking about the homoeroticism of sloppy joes

#i love my bf we had manwiches for our 10pm dinner #bc we keep going to the store h*gh and spending an hour or more there

[ughirant]

And when Trina finds out Spencer lied Joss better not be in her ear like “I told you he wasn’t capable of change, always a Cassadine.” Bc…..

And I’m really trying to see how Spencer is going to come back from this??? I honestly feel like all it’s gonna do is trigger Trina to think about how they met & how much he use to lie in the beginning. Not to mention she’s sensitive to lying right now because of everything going on with her family.

I see them going on a break….

Also Esme is going to be pissed if she ends up in jail for crimes she doesn’t even remember committing and immediately wanting revenge. Which….will put us back at square one..

#I know she’s gonna say something to edge on Trina stepping away from him #I see him groveling which I’m sure the audience will eat up but… #please let the writers have more in store #because we’re on a hook killer pt 2 arc I’ll scream #general hospital #gh #sprina #trina robinson #spencer cassadine #esme #also when is Trina & Spencer gonna find out about Joss’ lie huh??? #like girl you’re lying about A LOT #and keeping secrets from someone whose supposed to be your bestie

[babygray-dam]

Listen, I'm an adult. I buy and give myself 'good job' stickers all the time. My calendars are covered with 'I did it' stickers.

"Calendars, plural?" Yeah, I'm that cool.

But if you gave me a gold star, I would probably cry. I would definitely treasure it. I like external validation too, you know?

#a bit of my creative energy is being funneled into making my calendars pretty. #i went to four stores to find stickers to match okita's color scheme. #only to find the ones i needed at loft. #shoulda gone there first. #gonna draw a big two page gh doodle on the purple one #as a birthday present to myself. #might start putting stickers down for every kudos i get... #... i have a lot of stickers...

[katharine-hepburn]

going on archive.org to see if they have a working version of the bncrm website

#my eyes sting but i dont have drops #do u think liquor stores here have eye drops (thats the only thing still open except the 24 hour tescos but idk if any of them are big enou #gh to have health items #perennial student

[teresabeadle5]

A cat does not want all the world to love her; only those she has chosen to love... by Skye McLeod Fairywren, Blogger Via Flickr: Bento Mesh Head: LeLutka Avalon EVO-X Bento Mesh Body: Maitreya Lara BOM Face: Bia (blush) by okkbye. Body: Velour (blush) Enigma Eyes Applier: .euphoric Hair: My Hair - Ai by [monso] Ensemble: Afternoon Dress Bodice & Skirt (w/ texture HUD): Grasshopper GHS now @ the Engine Room from 20 Sept. - 20 Oct. @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Syndicate/197/17/27%e2%80%... Cameo earrings & Pearls choker: DD Cat Bengal Adult Animesh (Companion): [Rezz Room] POSE: Lazy Afternoon by Luane's World Poses SIM: My Friend, Trilby Minotaur's beautiful garden in Caledon

#LeLutka Avalon EVO-X #Maitreya Lara #Bakes On Mesh #[okkbye] #Velour #.euphoric #[monso] #GHS #Grasshopper Store #The Engine Room #DD #Luanes World Poses #Caledon #[Rezz Room] #Bengal Cat #Afternoon Dress #Second LIfe #Bento #Blogger #cat #feline #pet #animal #flickr

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Science has shown that if you leave them together even once alone in a room they will fuck.

#happy bi bi #like you are just gonna stop your ho trails and Leslie GH cause I leave the room for something #also me I have to go to the store but rub it till I get back #but no clit....ok good

[insertive-not-assertive]

its very VERY weird to me that i come onto this website and talk about fictional men more than women, but in real life im always ignoring men and my focus is laser guided towards women. im so different irl i wouldnt look twice at some of the guys i talk about on here

#and most of the time if im admiring a real life man i dont rly want to jump his bones so like ????? #but GH irl its girls who leave me breathless and turn my head in the store #doctalk

[hellishjoel]

playing hooky

9.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter l Next Chapter

summary: Frankie calls in sick for his shift. You simply must investigate. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of reader previously being on her period, smoking w33d, getting h!gh, swearing, pet names (angel, princess, etc.), handjob if you squint, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v, h!gh sex, aftercare, tangled feelings/messy emotions, sitcom vibes

A/N: tune in next time for a special halloween episode of Table for Two! 

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

“We’re not at the diner right now, y’know? We can,” he pauses to find the right words, seeming to get lost in the beautiful hue of your eyes. “We can take things slow. Wanna take my time with you.” 

You purse your lips as you scribble another drawing on your order pad. You’re sitting at one of the empty barstools at the counter, one leg lazily swinging back and forth while the other is brought up under you. 

“You’re gonna get hip dysplasia.” Carla, your sarcastic manager, hums as she passes you. She playfully smacks you with her own order pad before she settles down beside you, a loud and tired sigh leaving her ruby-red lips. She rolls her swollen ankles, a side effect of being on her feet all day. A side effect of being alive. 

Your eyes lightly screw together, eyebrows knitting in curiosity. “I thought only animals get hip dysplasia.” You trail off and watch her sit with slight confusion. She parts her lips and takes a breath before her face contorts in thought. 

Finally, Carla reemerged with a new confidence. “No, baby, because my cousin- my second cousin,” she illustrates all of this with her hands. “They were born with it! I swear, look it up.”

You stifle a giggle before you both hover over your phone in search of the truth via Google. That’s when you clock the time. 

Your head swivels to the wall clock and confirms it’s half an hour past five in the evening. “No Frankie tonight?” You ask, eyes still attentive to your phone as you attempt to try and hide any obvious interest or concern. Where the hell was he?

Carla eyed you up and down. Since when did you start caring if Frankie showed up for his shifts or not? She decides not to press it, clearing her throat as she moves off her barstool once she hears the doorbell chime, a new customer sauntering in. 

“Just said he was under the weather. And we don’t need another sick line cook, that’s for damn sure. Everyone would be coughin’ and sneezin’ over their undercooked bacon and runny, nasty eggs.” She said with a little umph at the end for distaste. 

You sigh and nibble on your thumbnail. 

Frankie was a bit of an ass, but he made the shifts go by faster. Yes, even before you started fooling around, he was entertaining. 

Let’s see, there was the night he tried to see how many coffee cups he could stack and if he could make a tower to the ceiling - he tried this multiple times, and each attempt left glazed ceramic shards everywhere, to which Carla made him sweep up.

There was another time the diner needed supplies, and Rudy, the owner’s son, sent you and Frankie on an errand run. He pushed you in the cart through nearly the entire store, in search of toilet paper and paper towels, dish soap, and other amenities. Frankie bought you a Redbull at the end of it. 

Now, more recently, Frankie fucking pavloved you! Like a damn dog! Every time you worked a shift, you got ferociously horny. You had gotten so used to clocking in, working for a bit, then getting your needs met. And now that you had finished serving time being on your period, you were needy for what you missed while you were surfing the crimson wave. 

Your foot, more anxiously now, taps against the metal stand of the barstool you were sitting on, huffing in annoyance hearing that Frankie was ill. The pit in your stomach was already coiling, searching for a release that just wouldn’t be satisfied tonight. Or would it?

You’re not in the back kitchen as much as everyone else, but as the end of your shift wound down and it was nearly ten o’clock, you decided to piece together a panini and a side of fries for Frankie. You thought about how he learned you weren’t feeling good just last week, and he knew how far a simple meal went to make you feel better. Maybe you could do the same for him. And that was it. You swear there were no ulterior motives. Just a nice coworker bringing a bite to eat. 

You yank your phone from your uniform. Your fingerprints smear your phone screen with grease from the fries. 

text me your address if you’re still up

frankie (work) Huh?

You have to will yourself not to roll your eyes. 

read the first message again and ask me if you’re still confused

frankie (work) Okay sassy pants 194 Rivercrest Apartments #501

His stupid reply leaves a broken, twitchy smile on the right side of your mouth. Stupid asshole. 

Once the restaurant closes, your clunky car takes you across town to Frankie’s apartment. Your gleamy, tired vision catches the streaks from passing cars and street lamps. You pull into a visitor parking spot and let out a disgruntled sigh as you sit in silence, waiting in your idling car.

A weird part of you is nervous. Overthinking. Was this taking it too far, helping him out while he’s sick? 

You push aside any nerves and force yourself out of the car, a death grip on the doggy bag of food you had packed him. The evening Texas air tickles your bare legs, trying to adjust your uniform under your jacket after it got smushed around in the car. You buzz his number before you hear the entrance’s lock click, allowing you in. 

Glancing around for an elevator is hopeless. The entrance leads you straight to a set of stairs,  and you clench your jaw in annoyance. God dammit. You were not a woman who prayed to the cardio gods. 

Your lungs feel strained, and your feet ache, desperate to sit down after your shift and the mild hike up to Frankie’s apartment. You rap your knuckles against his door in disdain, lips parted with a few light pants for breath as you wait. The door had a few random dents and marks, obvious trails of someone moving items in and out of the apartment over time. The numbers on his door were crooked, the paint chipped. Did he have to live in such a sketchy place? It looked like the birthplace of tetanus. 

There were a few heavy footsteps on the other side before the door jangled open. And a very healthy, Frankie opened the door. Your face fell, and your eyebrows furrowed. A heavy whiff of weed smacked you in the face, and you swore it nearly gave you a contact high, even from the hallway. 

Frankie was all too happy to see you here. You drove all the way to his apartment just to see him. His face was dripping in a smirky grin. He barely fit through the door frame, his large broad shoulders and tall stature filled the entire rectangular entrance. He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against his door. He was perfectly fucking fine. 

“Hey, princess. Surprised to see you-”

Your lips purse and your eyes screw tight as you smack him with his bag of food. “What the hell-” smack, “is wrong with you! Fuckin-” smack, “asshole!” 

He’s slow to defend himself at first, letting you exhaust your hits as you fist the brown paper bag in annoyance. Finally on the last hit, he swipes the bag from your hand and sighs. He’s trying to dial down his stupid smirk, but it ends up turning into this stomach-twisting, sweet smile. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and chew on the inside of your cheek. “Carla told me you were sick.” 

“I am sick.” Frankie playfully defended, standing straight and shrugging his shoulders with a half-innocent smile. “Sick.. and tired of working.” He laughs at his own joke, and you bite back a smile. Such a fucking dork. 

You’re at a weird standoff outside of his apartment. It’s like he’s holding your invitation to enter over your head, and out of your reach. He wants you to ask. You want him to ask. You’re both so goddamn stubborn. You cross your arms and stand straight, eyeing him down. 

Frankie rolls his eyes, his smile breaking into a larger one as he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. “So fuckin’ difficult.” You hide your smile as your face lightly glides against his chest, unintentionally inhaling his scent. By the looks of his hair, he was fresh from a shower. 

Frankie closes the door behind you, and his front brushes against your back as you stand in the tiny entrance hallway to his apartment. Music was playing deeper inside. 

His hands gently settle themselves on your arms, slowly coasting his warmth up and down your goosebump-covered skin. You inhale slowly, your back lightly resting back against his front. He was so easy to sink into. But then you remember how he bailed on work today, and you jut your elbow into his gut. He lets out a puff of air at the force you hit him with. 

“You’re such an ass ditching work. Ditching Carla.” You say as you step away from him and invite yourself further in, exiting the dark hallway and working your way further into the apartment. “We had to make do-it-all Paul step into the kitchen. Do you know how terrifying that is? Such a dick, Frankie.” 

“And you’re so sweet for bringin’ me food.” You hear him rifle through the paper bag, digging out his packaged food, and seeing him smile at the contents. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have.” He brushes past you and towards the kitchen while you stand in the living room. 

You didn’t concern yourself much with Frankie up until recent events, it was odd to see his evil lair. Okay, he wasn’t evil, but you know what I mean. You take in as many important details as you can while you slowly peel off your jacket and toss it on his couch. 

It’s quaint, really. He has no other furniture in the living room besides a couch, which you feel is by design. It sits perfectly opposite his mounted flatscreen. The walls are plain beige but are decorated with band and movie posters. You admire one that was purposely framed, unlike the others, with signatures. You didn’t recognize the band, but by their look, they seemed like an 80s rocker group. 

Below his flatscreen was an impressive vinyl collection, a record spins, and you recognize it as the melody you initially heard upon entering. It was serene, jazzy almost. 

“This is what you listen to when you’re alone?” You tease, kneeling down and flicking through a few album covers to see his taste. It was expansive, to say the least. There were only a fair few that you recognized. TOTO, ABBA, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, Metallica, a little Van Halen, and a whole lot of The Beatles. 

Frankie sucks the salt from the fries off his fingers, seeing he’s already munched on half his panini. “It’s something I listen to when I’m stoned.” He half-jokes, a slight smile on his face. So that’s what he’s been up to. 

“You called in so you could lay around your apartment and get high all day?” Your tone is playfully judging, but he gives you a proud nod, not a care in the world behind those slightly glazed eyes. 

“I didn’t really lay around all day.” His tone is softer since you’re both so close. He’s standing just to the right of where you’re kneeling down, your head could lay against his thigh if you wanted. “I was trying out some new recipes and shit.” He mutters as he points a thumb behind him and to the kitchen. You glance up and notice his pretty curls in the light. You don’t often see him without his hat or his bandana. Come to think of it, you don’t really see him outside of his yellow-stained apron. 

Your eyes slowly took Frankie in, seeing him casually for the first time outside of work was startling. He was big. Tall and broad, with squishy thighs and a soft tummy, strong arms, and defined biceps. He was comfortably relaxing in a pair of black basketball shorts that landed just above his knees, eyeing a few tattoos by the hem. On his upper half was a tattered, well-loved Lakers shirt with a small tear at the shoulder, which has since been sewn closed. He had a little bracelet on, one of those leather brown ones that twisted around his wrist, accompanied by a spherical, multicolor beaded one. 

Your eyes linger for a hair too long, and now he’s already smirking at you. “Like what you see, princess?” God, that stupid fucking nickname needed a break. Heat shoots up your spine nonetheless, and you have trouble staring daggers at him like you usually would. 

You huff a breath through your nose and stand up on your feet, raising your eyebrow at him. “What do you mean you trying new recipes? You can actually cook?” It sounds rude and sarcastic, but you thought Frankie just goofed around at work and cooked for the cash, not as a hobby. You slowly make your way past him, eyeing his kitchen in the process. 

There are recipe books, honest to god recipe books. Big ones, small ones. Different categories of food outlined on the covers and spines. And his kitchen was a chaotic mess, with multiple cutting boards of varying sizes across his already limited counter space. There were bright-colored vegetables cut up and diced, the scraps having been tossed in a spare plastic bag sitting on the sidelines. There was an open bottle of soy sauce and another for sesame oil, a little tin of cornstarch, and diced chicken sizzling in oil on a frying pan. 

You take a few steps in further, your sneakers landing on linoleum as you really smell what’s simmering in a large skillet. Mushrooms, bell peppers, green onions, broccoli, and peas are cooking in a thick sauce, coating them amidst freshly minced garlic onion.  Your lips part as you inhale, and you can’t believe it. You don’t even know what it is, but it smells heavenly.

You finally have to ask, because hunger is carving a hole in your stomach. “What are you making?”

Frankie parks his hands on his hips and looks at you with knitted eyebrows. “What? You’ve never had stir fry before?” 

You purse your lips and reach for the spatula, looking to Frankie for reassurance, to which he nods his head. Go for it. 

You smile as the vegetables sizzle once you push them around on the pan, relishing in the attention as you allow the other less glazed vegetables to catch some heat from the burner. Frankie hums, like he’s debating something, like he’s learned something from his little experimentation. He reaches past you, his front brushing against your shoulders as he reaches around you and adds a little brownish-amber liquid to the pan. It sizzles, splashes, and dances across the different vegetables, which makes you grin. 

You were never big into cooking, especially since you started working at Tommy’s Diner. You’ve seen enough grease to last a lifetime. You were fine settling in on the couch with a bowl of cereal and a glass of cheap wine. You saved making extravagant dishes for when you had a date over, and even then, that was risky. 

But there was something about Frankie actually knowing how to cook cuisine that you liked. “I didn’t know you knew how to make dishes besides burgers and fries.” 

He sneers and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling the entire time and lets you continue slowly shifting the vegetables around, watching as the glaze sizzles. “I didn’t know you cared enough about me to visit me at my apartment. We’re both a bit surprised tonight.” This was your worst nightmare. 

“I only came here under the impression that you were sick-”

“So you came to my aid?”

“Psh,” You huff, “You wish. But no.” You insist more forcefully, setting the spatula down and turning to face Frankie, who is all too close to you. You lose a lot of your angry traction as his hand finds your hip, feeling his fingers flip to the stovetop’s burner switch to a lower setting. 

His hands navigate you away from the oven, your back flushed against his counter now. His eyes trail you, grazing over your body as his hips now plant you in one spot. You swallowed a lump in your throat, your still resisting hands planting against his chest. You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh. 

You can’t explain why your fingers twitch and start to clutch his shirt, pulling him a little closer. Stupid Frankie with his goading smirk, bringing his forehead down against yours. It was so hot in his kitchen, in the middle of summer. You feel a bead of sweat sprout behind your ear and lightly glide down your neck as you flutter your eyes closed. It wasn’t often you felt your power to resist him rendered useless, but tonight you felt like he had a quite literal home-field advantage. 

“You want me to stop?” He asks, voice low and lust-drenched. His leg parts purposely between yours, jutting them open and spreading what was his. 

Your throat is closed off, the lack of air draining from your busy head. “I..” Your words fall off, distracted by something scampering through the living room.

“Do you have a cat?” Your eyes light up as you slink past Frankie. He found your stray of attention a bit adorable, despite being given a slight case of blue balls. 

You carefully padded out of the kitchen and into the living room, using the excuse to slip off your sneakers at the entrance. The small orange cat had curled up onto Frankie’s couch by your tossed jacket from earlier, forming a perfect circle amongst all of its tangerine fluff. Its eyes were closed serenely, absent of a new presence. It was fucking adorable, in short. 

Frankie was still flummoxed in the kitchen, adding the cooked chicken into the stir fry before turning the burner off and putting his masterpiece aside. “That’s Leo.” He announces, Frankie’s voice carrying annoyance that he lost a sure thing in the kitchen. Now you were cooing over his cat. 

He settles two bowls on the counter and adds the stir fry to each, a few splashes of the sauce splattering around the rim of the bowl. With two forks randomly stabbed into the piles of food, he walks one of them out to you. “Could have eaten this whole thing by myself.”

You smile, taking the offering and humming as you flop on the couch, the orange tabby finally peeking its eyes open. “I don’t doubt that, so thanks for sharing.” You recognize how he had eaten the panini and fries, and he was still excited over the stir fry. Poor guy probably had the munchies like crazy. 

With the kitty taking up one of Frankie’s couch cushions, he’s forced on the end with you in the middle. He sets his food aside on a spare side table and reaches for a small pipe, your breath pausing at the sight. “You want a hit?” He asks.

His face glows orange as he flicks on the lighter, spreading the flame over the green, now black, substance in the tiny bowl. He inhales, and you watch in mystification as he takes in the smoke filtering through. Your heart thumps harder in your chest, the right side of your mouth twitching up in a sly smirk. 

Let’s smoke weed with Frankie Morales tonight. 

He lets out a labored breath, the smoke flying loosely in the air and creating hazy grey circles that flood the ceiling before disappearing altogether. The stench fills the small apartment rather quickly. 

“I get really weird dreams after I smoke.” You whisper, biting down on your lower lip as you glance down at the pipe he’s holding, a small glow still coming from the weed. 

“It’s still lit if you want some.” His voice is low from smoking, and you have to clench your thighs closer together. Damn this stupid uniform, you wished you would have brought a change of clothes so you’d at least be comfy eating stir fry, petting his cat, and getting stoned with him. 

He raises the piece in an offering, and you look to him for one last look of reassurance. It’s polite to be offered free weed, especially since he’s the one who paid for it. He gives you a nod and looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Are you crazy? If you want it, take it. 

So you do. And you smoke it. And you pat yourself on the back to do so without coughing. It’s a small hit, but you don’t need much, your brain already feels like it’s as light as a cloud, dancing in slow motion. You giggle by accident. 

Frankie lets out a sputter of laughter, watching you get high with him is a bit comical. “Princess knows how to smoke. Kudos.” 

You let out a puff of laughter through your nose and grab your warm bowl of stir fry, stabbing into a green pepper. “Shut up, Frankie.” 

He ends up putting on a show you both agree on, something comical that makes you both laugh your high asses off. You eat the stir fry and almost forget Frankie is the one who made it. It was delicious, you ate everything down the the finely chopped green onions. 

You both shared another hit, and you felt like you were loosening up. Any need to hold onto control slipped through your fingers. Any issues you had been dealing with drifted away. And you realized how stupidly happy you were to be beside Frankie. Trying to do anything of actual initiative went out the window after your second hit. You both found yourselves on the floor of Frankie's room, sat side by side, heads resting on the edge of his bed as you both stared up at the ceiling and spoke gibberish. 

“Aliens?” He asks, your thighs brushing. 

“Of course.” You hum, slowly blinking in a gentle haze. “Ghosts?”

He sighs and takes a long time to answer, which apparently offends you because you snap your head up and look at him in disbelief. 

“You can’t be serious. If you believe in aliens, you have to believe in ghosts.” You argue as you stare at his fan. 

He lets out a throaty groan, closes his eyes, and runs his hands down his face. His curls are pretty. They haven’t been run through a million times yet or smothered by a bandana or hat. 

“I think… I do believe in ghosts. I just don’t want them to bother me.” He says, a weak smile on his face. 

“What? Like you’re afraid to be haunted?” Your head lays back on the bed but rolls over, watching his profile while he continues to look up absentmindedly at the ceiling. 

He’s silent for far too long. Finally, he rolls his head over to face you, your noses lightly brushing. He’s so close that looking at him feels a bit cross-eyed. 

“Wait- what? Sorry.” He finally says with a broken, short laugh. 

“Can you focus?” You ask teasingly, pushing your hand up against his cheek and making him stop staring at you. 

You take the soft silence as an opportunity to rest your hand lightly on his thigh. He does the same, except he feels the warmth of your skin and the material of your uniform. Goosebumps form shortly after, and you smile shyly up at the ceiling. 

“Have you…” You start to say but trailed off, bashfulness overcoming you. 

“Have I what?” He asks. You both blink slowly as a car’s lights flash through his window only for a few seconds, lighting up the dim room before it is filled with darkness again. The moon and an orange lava lamp was the only source of glow. 

You distractedly look away from him, admiring a tapestry on his wall and his soft comforter. “Have you had sex with someone high?” 

He shrugs and slowly smiles before gently nodding his head against the edge of his bed. “Yeah. Have you?” His head rolls over to look at you again. You feel his warm gaze, but you just keep your eyes locked on his ceiling fan. 

Warmth and a subtle shyness flush across your chest, your thighs nearly trembling in excitement. “No.” You whisper. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he watches you for a few moments. 

“Want to, though.” You finish, feeling a knot slowly grow in your stomach. 

Frankie’s eyes flick to your long lashes, then down to warmth creeping up your neck. “Yeah?” He asks.

You gently nod, too, eyes still too shy to meet his own. “Yeah-” 

He doesn’t let you get out one more syllable. His large hand comes up and meets your cheek, guiding your head to meet his gaze.

Frankie kisses you deeply but at a slow pace. And you’re feeling a desperate hunger to have him. You eagerly cup his cheeks in return and swing a leg over his lap, intensifying the kiss as your hands glide down the landscape of his clothed chest, bunching up his shirt in the process. You feel like a horny jackrabbit, but it’s really all his fault. You can feel his half-hard cock as you grind the center of your pelvis over his own, whimpering into his mouth desperately.

“Take care of me,” you whisper, and it ends up sounding a little more like a desperate, whiney plea. 

Frankie’s lips part against your own, feeling the neediness of your touches. His hazy vision peers open, breaking your kiss for a moment. 

“Hold on, baby,” He sits up a little bit against the bed, his eyes scanning yours with a certain deepness. 

You pause, your chest heaving lightly as you regain your breath. “Frankie, come on, don’t make me beg.” You say as you lean in once more, but he catches your face and pauses your movements. You feel like a deer in headlights, static tingling in your ears as you feel a sudden rush for embarrassment. Why wasn’t he just as excited? Or eager? Or desperate? Were you the problem?

Suddenly, your eyes were dashing around for an escape. Then he speaks your name. Soft, gentle, careful. Hear him out. You swallow your pride and stay seated over his lap. 

“We’re not at the diner right now, y’know? We can,” he pauses to find the right words, seeming to get lost in the beautiful hue of your eyes. “We can take things slow. Wanna take my time with you.” 

You can’t help but let an awkward chuckle escape between you, eyes having a hard time meeting his. You playfully scoff and smack his shoulder lightly to regain a sense of control. “Shut up, Frankie.”

His head cocks, and he looks at you with that stupid fucking smirk. “You don’t know how to take it slow, do you?” 

His words antagonize you, and your eyes light with fire. A defensive fire, because he was right. 

Slow meant feelings, slow meant experiencing, slow meant bonding. You weren’t slow. Sex was supposed to be fast, hot, desperate, counting down the seconds until a sweet escape, racing to an orgasm, chasing it like a fever dream. You weren’t good at slow. 

You hate that Frankie has learned this about you. Giving up the upper hand wasn’t in your caliber. And you find yourself frowning as you look down at him once his smirk washes away. He’s looking at you like he cares. Even with you both stoned, brain’s hazy and light, he sees through all that and looks at you like he gives a damn. 

He lightly shrugs his shoulders and softens the hold he has on your face, his thumb gently stroking along your cheekbone. “Can show you.” 

Hesitancy screams across your blank face, but he reads you better than anyone else. He speaks your name, more genuinely explaining his offer. “Let me teach you.” 

You let out a gentle sigh, slowly giving in to temptation. Because having him at all was better than not. So you take it slow. Frankie teaches you zen. Teaches you how to melt. 

One of his hands falls from your cheek and lands on your waist, gently stroking your hip in a soothing slow circle. It feels like heaven. 

His brown orbs dip close, and you let him take the lead. He kisses you tenderly, soft. His tongue lines your lower lip once he’s ready to lightly increase the intensity, begging your mouth for permission to part. If it was any other night, your tongue would be down his throat, and you’d be a grinding, sloppy mess in his lap. Let him teach you.

You take a deep breath in as your tongues tangle. 

It almost makes you giggle again, because it feels stupid, but you sort of like it. 

His stubble brushes your face, and you fight to release a moan. Frankie’s hand on your hip shuffles to your lower back, and you feel him add pressure. Your chest meets his, and you let yourself melt into him. His strong torso easily keeps you both up. Your heavy breaths hit the room, and you force yourself to pull away for air, despite how much you enjoy making out with him. He grins at the sight of satisfying you. 

Frankie pushes a stray hair that’s fallen out from your loose ponytail behind your ear, smiling as his hands move to the back of your uniform. This will be the first time he actually undresses you properly, not just shoving the material up past your ass so he has access to your pussy. 

“You know how to work the zipper?” You playfully ask as you settle your head on his shoulder, taking the slower moments to breathe and relax. 

He stuffs down a chuckle and nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think so. Am I doing it right?” He asks as he guides the zipper down your back, feeling your flesh exposed to the rest of his room. 

You purse your lips and slowly sit up in his lap, watching him take in a deep inhale as your centers brush lightly. You hide your coy smile as his eyes light with excitement, but he’s made a point to be slow with you. You guide the sleeves of your uniform down to your hips, exposing your breasts to him. Giggles leave your mouth as you wiggle out the last bit of your dress, Frankie is more than happy to help you. 

“I’m feeling a little alone here.” Your voice is soft, tugging at his shirt before you push it up just past his pecs. Your high ass got a little distracted, staring at the hair sprinkled in dark trails across his torso, feeling him struggle in his shirt as he laughed. 

“Focus, princess,” his arms tangle with his shirt before he tosses it off, especially since you started slacking. You shyly smile and flutter your eyes down to his warm body as your hands explore the landscape for the first time. You had yet to undress each other like this, you sort of liked it, especially with this whole slow and steady thing going for you both. 

Frankie leans back against the bed, admiring the sight before him. You feel a little awkward, goosebumps rushing up your arms as you shyly smile and playfully push his face away. “Stop staring, perv. You’ve never seen a pair of tits before?”

He’s quick. “Not a pair that nice.” 

You smile and crack out a laugh, knowing sex has never felt this casual before. No pressure. Good vibes. And it’s not just because of the weed. It’s because it’s Frankie. And he looks at you like you put the sun in the sky and you could do no wrong. But then he starts staring at your tits, and you realize he’s just another guy. 

His hands caress your waist, thumbs dipping into the curves and appreciating the way they run up you like beautiful rivers. You decide to do the same. Your hands slip lower, letting his happy trail guide you to his black mesh basketball shorts. His rough and calloused hands cup your tits, taking them in his palms and giving you a tentative squeeze. He’s figuring you out, what you like, what makes you squirm and whine. As soon as he pinches your nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers, a broken gasp is elicited from your mouth. 

“Shit,” you curse breathily. Everything was a bit heightened right now, including your sensitivity. It felt like a million little strums were being played, making your spine shiver and your head grow foggy. And you were determined to make him feel the same way. 

You bite down on your lower lip, fishing your hand into his shorts and fisting a hand around his already hardening cock. A smirk tangles on your lips as he lets out an earthy grunt, low to the ground and heaven to your ears. 

You start a bit fast, eager to please, wanting to see him tremble for your touch.

His lips meet yours in a distracting manner, rocking your steady pace. “Slow.” He murmurs against your lips, and you gently nod, a shy smile spreading from embarrassment.

“Slow.” You whisper, your lips brushing his. Your ego trips on the power you have over him, fisting him, his heavy length weighing in your hand. You couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him, he was all just… girth. Your body ached for him, needy for the feeling only he could satisfy by being inside of you. His tip trickles with precum, and a low moan drips off his tongue like honey. It fuels you. 

“Spit on my cock, princess.” He grunts out, his face leaning in to capture one of your nipples in your mouth. You squeak lightly in excitement before doing just as he asks of you. 

You angle your head over your centers, letting a long line of saliva puddle down onto him. It meets the strokes of your hand, and Frankie’s jaw twitches as he squeezes your breasts involuntarily harder.  You let out a long whine as your nipples form peaks between his fingers, feeling your heart thrum against your chest. 

Frankie likes how you look on top. Back arched, chest pushed up, messy hair falling loose, eyes lit with an eagerness and curiosity for him to teach you the method of going slow. Admiration mixed with respect. He feels like he’s dreaming. 

All he can imagine is you like this, bodies in sync, riding his cock. Tight walls milking his cock for everything he has. His skin becomes riddled with goosebumps, thinking about your nails digging into his chest, your tits rocking up and down, how he would tumble out moans of your name and squeeze your hips with adoration. Yeah, he’d like to see that one day. 

He’s not sure how much longer he can last with merely your hand on him. 

“C’mere, baby.” 

A gasp of surprise jumps from your throat before you can stop it, Frankie managing to stand up off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist for security. His strength, how easily he lifts you and shuffles you around like a ragdoll spurs white hot heat in your stomach. You were going to fuck him good if you ever got past the going slow part. 

His smirky mouth meets yours in a hot kiss, one heavier than before. Like he’s needy for you. Your eyes melt closed as your fingers wind into the pretty curls that were formed at the nape of his neck. Your back meets his mattress and blankets, your fingers dance along the pattern, your high mind hypnotized seeing Frankie on top of you. 

His body rests between your parted legs. You whimper into his mouth, feeling his hardened cock resting against your core. 

“Take my fucking panties off,” you beg more than you mean to. 

Frankie tries not to sneer. His teeth capture your lower lip, and you mewl out a moan before he lets you go. 

“To hell with going slow.” 

You hastily nod, feeling his fingers grip your panties at either side of your hips before he shuffles them down. You whine with how the sticky center stays latched to your core, he gently peels it loose with a hellish smirk. 

Frankie’s heart thrums against his chest and echoes into his ears. Hearing you desperate for his touch was heaven, he felt undeserving to have such an angel vying for his attention. “So wet f’me, barely touched you, princess.” 

He discards your panties to the side, off on the floor with the rest of the clothing you both have shed. You’re completely naked together, makes you a little nervous. 

Frankie promised to speed up, but you’re finding harmony in the way his soft lips trail down your body, leaving wet prints between the valley of your breasts to the soft skin of your stomach. Your breaths come out heavier, thighs shaking as he drops back down to kneel at the edge of the bed. His hands grip your thighs and yank you impatiently closer to his eager mouth. You whimper as your body is shuffled closer, your fists that were clutching the sheets being torn away. 

You giggle as your thighs shake around his head, feeling those perfect kisses move between the warmth of your legs. 

“Fuck,” you finally let out, excitement seeping through your bones. Frankie’s stubble drags across the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, and again, you feel that heightened sensitivity that makes your stomach roll. 

Frankie decides that dragging out the teasing is enough. He wanted to taste you, every mile, every inch, every centimeter. 

Your core glistens in his eyeline, begging to be touched, kissed, fucked. He can’t help but dive in. His dopey brown eyes meet yours as his face disappears lower and lower before he’s past the valley of your tits, and all you can see when you crane your neck are those mocha brown eyes. 

His tongue tastes you, and divides your folds, as he laps up your juices. 

The feeling is exhilarating, like the rise and fall of a roller coaster. 

A gasp riddles its way up through your throat, concaves your chest, and your pupils blow wide in excitement. Frankie enjoys your taste but aims to pleasure. His mouth latches onto your sensitive clit and suckles, his tongue intervening every few swipes to flick across your clit. Rise. 

His large hands grip the outside of your thighs, pinning your lower half to his mattress, and lapping over you in a heated race to the finish line. Your face contorts in pleasure, fingers drifting down your stomach before you wind them in Frankie’s hair. He growls against your pussy, you’ve never felt your blood pump faster. Fall. 

“Fucking- Christ,” you push out, gripping his hair strands tighter and making him grunt hot heat against your core. “Feels so fucking good- oh my god,”

He pulls away for a breath and sucks a love bite into the sensitive flesh of your thigh until it swells pink and purple. One of his hands on your outer thighs wraps around the shell of your body, playing with your clit. He slowly shakes his head as he looks at you. You wonder if he shares your hazy vision. The pleasure makes you feel like you’re seeing double. 

“Christ isn’t making you feel good,” his words make you whimper, “I am.”

You quickly nod, but you realize your body can’t move quickly under the influence. You’re just hazily bobbing your head, your hand in his hair dropping to his strong bicep. 

“Frankie, I need you,” you plead as you gently sit up on your elbows and cup his cheek, wiping your glistening slick off his pretty bottom lip. “Need you inside of me.” You whisper, a desperate look splashed across your face. 

You hated how much power he had over you. He almost just made you cum from playing with your clit. You need him biblically, fully, flesh and blood, blood to bone. It was carnal, primal. 

He doesn’t need much further convincing. Frankie preferred to pull an orgasm from going down on you, but he listened to your needs and what you wanted. 

His lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, working you further up the bed and letting you collapse into his pillows. Your eyes catch the sight of a dream catcher while his tongue tangles with yours. You flush at the taste of your own arousal. That’s when you realize his hand is still between your thighs and working soothing circles into your clit. 

You whimper as he adds a tad bit more pressure, and you feel the white-hot heat of adrenaline making your stomach pool even more excitement into your tummy. 

“Frankie,” you whisper softly, and his forehead rests over yours while he guides his shaft to your center. 

He lines his tip up and down between your folds, your jaw dropping as he sickeningly uses your slick to lube himself. He lets his entire shaft rest against your sex, and he does slow thrusts back and forth, lining his entire cock with you. Holy fuck. A shiver was sent up your spine, goosebumps parading across your body. 

Your chest swelled for him. 

“What do you say?” He asks in a taunt, knowing how weak you are. 

You huff and move your hands up his arms and hang them loosely around his shoulders. He complies in moving in closer. 

“Please.” You finally admit between gritted teeth, which makes him grin. 

“Alright, princess,” his forehead now rests against your temple, cocking his chin down to get a better angle of your centers. He guides his tip to your entrance, slow and patient, before he notches himself inside of you. 

Your eyelashes flutter, and you watch as his eyes clench closed. He likes to act all tough like he wouldn’t fold for you, but you know he would time and time again without having to say more than a simple please. 

Both of you share unsteady breaths. It feels like a dam is giving way inside your chest. 

Frankie thinks how he has never been inside a tighter pussy, squeezing the last bits of air from his lungs. 

Your walls pulsate around the intrusion, but your dripping core and his wet tongue from earlier allowed him to slowly push in, inch by inch. 

You swallow a lump in your throat. You don’t realize your eyes are closed, and you're gripping him around the neck to keep him close until he sponges a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Alright?” He forces out. It’s like you’re choking him, and it makes you twitch up a smile. 

“Mhm,” you muster up, feeling his chest rumble lightly with laughter. 

“Baby,” he whispers, and your chest surges at the pet name. “Can’t breathe.” Oh, shit. You damn near had him in a headlock.

You loosen your grip around his neck, shyly smiling as your desperate hands look for something to ground you. 

Frankie stays flushed inside you but shifts to be more centered over your body, gently resting his forehead just above yours. 

“C’mere,” he whispers before he takes your hands. You decide not to question why he interlocks your fingers. But it feels safe, and you’re still high, so you’ll blame any poor decision-making on that. 

“Fuck me,” you finally grit out, desperate for him to just fucking, “Move.” 

Your whine is met by him reeling back his hips, only for him to plow right back into you at an unforgiving rate. A gasp ripples through your throat, and you feel like screaming. Your entire goddamn body was on fire with the way his girth parted your walls, splitting you open. You let out a string of whimpery moans, and your eyes glared desperate daggers into him. 

“S’what you wanted, right?” He grunts out, jaw tight, pretty curls falling limply in front of his eyes and crowding his forehead. “You wanna be fucked hard, is that it?” He can barely speak authoritatively, you’re squeezing him like your last lifeline. 

But he’s right. Tears cloud your vision, and you weakly nod as desperate puffs of air leave your pretty parted lips. “Yes,” you squeak out, relaxing your hips so Frankie falls into you more. 

“Feels so fucking good, can’t-” An eager cry leaves your lips as he pulls himself out, just to thrust right back in and rocking you further up his bed. Your chin tips to the ceiling as you curse every god, man, woman, whoever the hell created Frankie Morales. 

“Can’t what, princess?” His tone is lower, sinister even as your walls twitch around him but only gush out more arousal for his cock to slide in and out of you. 

You find it hard to string together syllables. So he squeezes your hands that you’re holding for dear life. He stills inside of you until you answer. 

“Shit,” you whimper. 

“Can’t what, angel?” He probes again, cocky asshole waiting for his answer. 

You whimper and peek open your eyes. The right side of his face is highlighted silver from the moon, your hazy vision thinks he looks like an angel. His hand wanders between your centers and finds your throbbing clit, making you cry out the answer. Your face crumbles as you own up to what you need to say. 

“Fuck! Fuck, Frankie! Can’t go without your dick,” you pant out as he subtly rocks into you at a good pace upon your confession. “Can’t even go- can’t even go a week without it,” you admit in defeat. 

That stupid, cocky smirk of his graces his parted lips. It’s crooked and perfect, and he’s fucking you like your life depends on it. Because it does, you think. 

His thighs clap against your ass, pounding you into the bed, drilling you into place, suffocating the air from your lungs.

Your vision goes hazy, seeing white, then rainbow, then stars. They cloud your vision, and you’re not sure if you’re still high off the weed anymore. Or just high off Frankie. 

You whimper strings of his name tangled with profanity, he’s still filling you to the brim. It once seethed hot with pain, but now your stomach is contorting in pleasure. It’s like he knows exactly how to crack your vault, penetrating your walls, unlocking something deep inside of you that no one else manages to know the code. 

His messy fingers continue to circle your clit, and you know your end is coming. 

Frankie’s grunting with every thrust, moaning a symphony of your name every chance he gets. He likes holding your hand, resting his sweaty forehead against your own, listening to you beg for his cock, for your finish. It’s the only thing he wants to give you. He’d be at your every beck and call if you let him. He wouldn’t mind if the only thing he ever got was a fraction of your praise. 

Frankie’s thighs clap against your ass, the sound echoes around his bedroom. If his neighbors didn’t know his name, they did now. 

“Fuck! Frankie!” You cry out, feeling every inch of his cock massage your insides. His tip kisses your cervix, and your jaw drops. Nothing more comes out of your mouth, so your blown-out eyes do all the talking. 

I’m so fucking close.

“I know, baby, feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts as his balls slap against you. “Feels good having my fat fucking cock inside you, huh?” 

You shake under him, your thighs clench around his hips, and you pray to the gods for making Frankie. You take back what you thought before, you need him. 

You don’t care that he’s a little older, that he’s an asshole, that he eggs you on. 

Because in the shelter of his bedroom, locked in your embrace, he swallows your name and persuades you into pleasure, time and time again. 

Your clit tingles, and your walls furiously clench around him. Finally, your mouth finds words to try and elaborate on what you’ve been holding inside. 

“Fucking- shit! Fuck me harder, right there- fuck me, Frankie! God- I’m coming!” You cry out as his pants fill your space, fanning across your face. He fucks you harder and faster as you near your orgasm, wanting to help you reach it. And he gets you there.

Your back arches, and he groans lowly as he stills inside of you. It’s almost beautiful the way you cum in unison. 

Your hands hold his tighter, and he reciprocates by squeezing gently. I’m right here, I’m here, baby. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, still. Your hips get a little achy. He feels you twitch and knows it's time to let you go. 

A gentle whimper leaves you as he pulls out. You feel a bit empty, a little cold.

His sweet laughter makes you peek open your eyes. He’s trying to move out from around you, but you haven’t let go of his hands. 

You shyly let go, and both of you squeeze your hands to flex the knotted muscles and stiff knuckles. You close your legs and lightly curl up. He doesn’t come to rest, he gently pats your outer thigh once or twice before he disappears to his bathroom. 

You think he couldn’t have been gone for more than thirty seconds, but he comes back in a fresh pair of boxers and his basketball shorts, his tanned torso still exposed for your viewing. 

“Frankie,” he pauses like a deer in headlights as he stands up from grabbing your panties. “I’m gonna… spill.” You finally pitch out, a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling like an idiot. He circles back to the bathroom and grabs a towel and a wet washcloth. 

“Sorry, my brain is all-” he starts to say, but you quickly shake your head. 

“I know me too. S’okay.” You whisper with a smile as you weakly sit up on your elbows. The record playing in the living room had stopped. He shimmies the towel under your hips before he aids you with a clean washcloth. 

Feels too domestic, so you take over, much to his annoyance. You wrap yourself in the towel once you’re done, and sit up to retrieve your uniform. You dread putting it on. 

“Can I take the towel for the way home? My underwear is still too..” you trail off. Soaking wet was the words you would have used. 

Frankie’s face screws up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“You’re going home?” 

Now your expressions match. “Yeah?” It sounds more like a guess than a statement. “What else would I do?”

Frankie shifts back and forth on his feet before he sits down beside you on the bed. “Dunno. Stay here.” 

You take in a hesitant breath, and he feels it. “You shouldn’t drive home, you know. You’re stoned. And tired. Don’t need you falling asleep at the wheel or some shit.” 

You frown. Staying here does sound nice. Thinking about going down those five flights of stairs with your jelly legs sounds like a walk to hell. 

But there’s a certain rule about sleeping over. One you don’t want to cross. You and Frankie are just fooling around. Nothing more. 

“I don’t know, Frankie.” You say with a small frown, tightening the towel around you even more. His sullen look deepens at your words. He doesn’t want to overly convince you. If you want to go, he doesn’t want to stand in your way. 

You chew on your bottom lip and weigh your options. You don’t want to go down the stairs. You’re tired as fuck, and you don’t want to get pulled over or something else. And you really don’t want to put your uniform back on. And you want to stop trying to put issues in your own way when you really just want to stick around. But the decision is made for you. 

“Stay.” 

Your eyes meet his. He’s more certain now, going after what he wants. 

“Stay the night, it won’t kill you. I’ll get you something more comfortable to wear, and you can just…” he trails off and shrugs. 

“Stay?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. He nods. 

You sigh loudly but inevitably smile as you point to his closet. “I need a shirt. Please.” 

A big smile glides across his face, and you can’t believe you’re the one who put it there. 

“Alright, princess, whatever you say.” He squeezes your thigh and stands up, his back to you as he fishes through his closet and smells a few shirts to see how clean they are. 

You roll your eyes and sigh as you fall back into his pillows. 

You change into something clean, you hope it’s clean, and end up curling into a protective ball under his covers. 

His cat, Leo, circles up by your feet, and you coo, gently stroking the pretty fur along his back. Frankie retrieves two glasses filled with water and hands you one. You instantly take a few gulps before your hand gently strokes down the shirt he’s put you in. It swims a bit on you, but you like it. The hem hangs at your thighs. 

“Can you get in here?” You ask impatiently. “M’getting chilly.” You whisper with a coy smile. 

Frankie blows out a few candles in his living room and finishes putting away any leftover stir fry. 

Your high has worn off, and now you’re just a sleepy little thing. A long shift plus getting railed would be your new nighttime sleep aid. 

Now that the apartment is drenched in darkness, he pulls back the covers and moves in beside you. Cuddling was not an option. He spoons you, yanking you halfway across the bed and out of your little ball. His warm flesh meets your back, and you hum at the feeling. He was a furnace. His head settles above yours, you feel the stubble gently poke at your hair. Your eyes are already closed as his arm wraps around your waist, an affirming hand settling on your tummy. He must need skin-to-skin contact because his hand slips under the shirt he’s put on you and settles on the warm skin by your belly button.  

You let out a short little laugh. “You do this with all the girls you sleep with?” 

“No.” He quickly says, and your eyes peek open. 

“No?” You ask curiously. 

“No. Just all my coworkers I sleep with.” You roll your eyes and reach around to slap the back of your hand against his hip, forcing out a chuckle from him. 

“M’kidding.” He somehow pulls you closer. Your head rests comfortably on his bicep, the cold tip of your nose warmed by his flesh. 

Questions pour out of your stupid brain. Were you the only one he was sleeping with? If you weren’t, who else was there? Was this normal to him, cuddling after a friends-with-benefits situation? Did Frankie want something more? 

You sigh and close your eyes, attempting to shut off your brain as your finger lazily draws shape on his forearm. 

He murmurs a goodnight against the shell of your ear. You blame how happy and comfortable you are right now on his cat. And it somewhat makes you feel better. You never pictured falling asleep beside your coworker, let alone Frankie Morales. 

Sleep eventually overcomes you. You dream of Frankie sitting in a bowl of stir fry like a hot tub. 

---

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[sporesgalaxy]

good morning on this fine friday at 5am my time! circe clawthorne jumpscare.

I truly think this is very very close to final, moreso than usual lol. I'm quite happy with this

I really can't tell if it would be more difficult for me to try and convert this into proper paragraphs or make it a comic...

well here it is. but wait there will be more!

•••

?: [distantly] Philip?

?: [closer] Philip!

?: Philip Wittebane!!!

P: [weirded out cuz hes in the middle of the woods] What in the–

C: [running up to him excitedly] Philip!!! It’s SO good to see you again!!!

P: [backing away] See me again? Do we know each other, Miss?

C: !

C: Come on, Philip!

C: Surely the King of the Witch Hunters can recognize the Dread Witch Beezelbella when he sees her!

—

P: …

C: [smile falters nervously] ...

[Philip bolts]

C: Wh- Philip!

[He sprints through the woods as fast as he can, but weaving between the trees slows him down.]

[Circe suddenly cuts Philip off, riding on her staff]

P: [flinches away from her so violently that he falls on his ass] GAH!!

C: What are you running away for?!

P: [shielding his face, peeking at her erratically, as if afraid to look directly at her for too long] You’re not real!! You’re some cruel illusion!!

P: Sent to– to torment me, or tempt me to forfeit my soul to the devil!

P: Well it WON’T WORK!! So– gh– [flails his hands in her general direction] BEGONE!

–

C: No no no no! No tricks, I promise!

C: [REALIZES SHE IS LEVITATING] Ah!!! Er…

[she jumps off the staff and holds it behind her conspicuously, too frantic to remember to store it as a palisman]

C: [smiling nervously] I meant to save that for later!

P: [STARING]

C: Here. :) [holds out her free hand to help him up]

P: [looks somewhere btwn angry and scandalized]

[Philip pushes himself further away from her before standing up on his own. He struggles a little because he now seems reluctant to take his eyes off her. Circe looks saddened but not entirely surprised.]

C: Really, I--

[tries to gesture, but is still holding the staff in one hand, and ends up accidentally swinging it towards Philip.]

[Philip flinches again, and stares at it like it might explode.]

[Circe quickly reduces the staff to just a bird and pockets the palisman in her cloak]

C: [smiling apologetically, holding up palms to show she’s unarmed] I’d never dream of hurting you!!

C: [looking at him and still smiling but with pleading, sad eyes] You know that, don't you Philip? No matter how we've changed, I...I'll always love you.

P: [mentally recalculating] …I...see.

C: [beams] Yes!! I pinky promise! [holds out pinky for a second, but quickly drops it]

P: [less defensive body language, but still clearly a little wary] Hm…

–

C: [a bit nervier] Ah-- before we go any further, I need to re-introduce myself!!

P: [skeptical] Re-introduce?

C: [trying to stay chipper but looking more stressed] I know I look different, but it’s…it’s still me!! [she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, looking a bit uncomfortable] See?

P: The…Dread Witch Beezelbella.

C: [frustrated] Your sis– your sibling!!! You know, the one who raised you?? Who spent all those years putting gruel on the table??

P: [frowning] The one who died seven years ago.

C: Er– well– I had to...go away for a while. But I’m here now!!

C: [trying to bulldoze through it] And really hardly anything has changed!

C: I've simply learned I’m much happier being your sister! That’s not too complicated, is it? You understand, don’t you??

P: I…suppose–

C: [bulldozing again] Spectacular!!!!

C: So, you’ll call me Ci– [seems to realize something] Er…just C.C. is fine for now! [nervy smile]

[Philip gives her a perplexed look]

C: Probably easier and, er…good for an Adjustment Period! [nods to herself]

P: [mostly just baffled] …C.C.

C: [nodding more] You've got it!! Same person, new gender! None of the old name and no man words, pretty please!

P: --

C: [before Philip can reply] Great!!!

C: Now, with all THAT out of the way: It’s YOUR turn! [stepping closer to him, as though she wants to hold his hands] Tell me everything! How are you?! What’s happened while I was gone? What have you been up to??

–

P: [leaning away] Oh. Er…

P: I’m…doing very well. I… [“thinks”, bringing a finger to his chin a little too theatrically]

P: …Goodness, so much has changed, I’m not even sure where to start!

P: Really, you ought to just visit the house with me and see what’s changed for yourself. [grabs her arm and gently tugs]

C: [Withdraws, very nervous] Oh, no no no, I can't go into town.

C: You and I of all people should know how–!

C: --!

C: [Squints]

P: …Is something the matter?

C: [Squints harder]

C: ...Do NOT Witch-hunt me, Philip!!!!

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about. I'm only trying to show you--

C: Oh for goodness' sake, NO!!!! I will NOT set foot in that town EVER again!!

P: ...Then you should wait here for just a moment, and I'll return shortly– [beginning to walk away]

C: [Grabs his arm to stop him leaving] [exasperated] I am not an idiot, Philip!!!

C: [sighs] Look, I know this is going to be difficult for you to accept, but magic didn't turn me evil! I'm still just ME!

P: [MAIDENLESS STARE]

–

[Circe continues holding Philip’s arm to keep him there, and for now, he lets her.]

C: As it turns out, you DON’T have to sell your soul for magic! We were completely wrong about it!

P: [EXTREMELY skeptical] Is that so?

C: [frustrated] It’s true! I could prove it to you!

C: ...Well, I guess I can’t PROVE that I still have a soul. Not that I know of. [to herself] I wonder if there’s a spell for that…

P: [extremely sarcastic] Perhaps we ought to enlighten the entire town to the existence of this fascinating *benign sorcery*.

C: [annoyed] Really, Philip?

P: Well, why not?? Since you can *prove* that it’s harmless, let's go prove it to everybody! It would make our lives *so* much easier…

C: Stop it.

—

P: Why, no one would have to do chores ever again!

C: Philip!

P: Maybe we could all be in one big witch’s coven together--

C: ENOUGH!!

C: You've been clear enough already!!!! You still don't like magic, and you don't trust me!!!

C: [takes a deep breath] ...

[Gently, Circe lets go of Philip's arm, which she had been gripping rather tightly.]

[She watches as though expecting Philip to bolt again, but he doesn't.]

[She fidgets with her sleeve as she continues.]

C: Philip, please. Just...just listen to me for a moment.

P: [Opens mouth, looking indignant]

C: [cutting Philip off] You don't have to believe me! I know that you...probably won't. I had hoped--

C: [doesnt finish that thought, looking bitterly sad]

C: ...There's something I need to tell you, but I want to know you'll listen.

P: [scoffs] Why bother if you know I won't fall for it?

C: Because...! Because I have to do something!

C: ...Philip--

[She reaches toward him, and he shrinks back.]

P: You've been gone for nearly a decade.

C: ... [confirmingly guilty face]

P: It took you that long to-- to bother telling me anything?!

P: Why in the hell would I want to believe that?!

—–

P: How could I?!

P: How could I possibly believe that you’d *vanish without a trace,*

P: and then– *reappear out of thin air,* just because-- what, the whim finally struck you???

C: No--! It-- it wasn't a whim, Philip, I would never--!

P: [pulling at his hair] AGH!! Then where have you *been??!!!* Why come back *now??!*

C: I-- it's difficult to explain--

P: I spent YEARS trying to hunt down that *witch*–!

[Circe grimacing/wincing rxn shot]

P: [gesticulating wildly] YEARS hopelessly wondering what might’ve become of you!!!!!

P: I WASTED my LIFE searching for answers!!!!

P: Of course I don't want to believe this!! That you could have come back this whole time, but-- [voice breaking]

P: ...But you chose not to.

–

C: 😟

P: [still angry, but quieter now] And what a cruel joke it would be, for you to finally be here.

P: [hand gravitating towards knife on belt] After I’d finally managed to give *up* on you.

[Circe wants to hug him. She wishes he were still small enough that she could pick him up and squeeze him with all her might. But she thinks better of it. No matter how much she loved Philip, she couldn't afford to trust him right now.]

[Philip's hand is hovering over the spot where Circe knows his knife sheath to be. She feels her heart break a little more.]

[She steadily meets his eyes and keeps her hands at her sides, ready to pull out her staff if necessary. She won't be able to hurt him the way he's apparently resolved to hurt her, but she could run away.]

[She had desperately hoped that Gravesfield's claws wouldn't be sunken so deeply into him, but she knew what it took to survive there. And he had been forced to survive it even longer than her.]

C: ...I’m sorry, Philip.

P: ...

C: I'm sorry for leaving you in Gravesfield alone.

C: I didn't think I had a choice.

[Circe shifts her weight uncomfortably. It feels wrong, measuring how she speaks to Philip, her brother, the person who knew her better than anyone not too long ago. But he isn't the only one she's protecting anymore.]

C: ...truthfully, I…

[It feels loathesome to admit after so many years of spending so much of her energy hiding it.]

C: …I thought you would be better off without me.

—

P: [genuine confusion] ...What?

C: You're a genius, Philip. I knew you could do anything you put your mind to. Make a real future for yourself.

C: But I-- I could barely even keep us fed until we--

C: [looking terribly guilty] ...started working together.

C: I thought that once you could take care of yourself...

C: You could have a normal, happy life. Without me.

P: [pissed] And how do you know that you couldn't be a part of it!? You ran away before you even tried!!

C: I tried for years!! All my trying ever did was put targets on our backs!!!

C: [bitterly] Because I couldn't hold down any job but the most dangerous in Gravesfield.

---

P: What targets?! We were heroes!

P: If you had just stayed, if you had never listened to that witch, we still would be!!

P: Did she say I'd be better off without you?! Is that how she convinced you to leave?!

C: [low, serious] No.

C: I... [ashamed] ...I made up my mind before I met Evelyn.

C: I had already decided you were better off without me.

C: [intense] She's the reason I'm still here to discuss it with you.

P: [shocked, unsettled, doesn't want to process that]

P: That...that can't be true! Everything was fine until she came along!! This was all her fault!!

P: You'd still be normal if it weren't for her!!!

C: [angry on Evelyn's behalf] No!!! I was never normal!!!!

C: And you were the only person who couldn't seem to tell!!!

C: [tearing up] It was going to get us both killed, sooner or later!!!

C: *I* was going to get us killed, because I'm like this!! Because *I* can't live a normal life!!

C: I wanted to protect you. To make your life easier than mine had been, but--

P: You were protecting me just fine before you ran away!!!

P: And what's this nonsense about us getting killed?! We were heroes! We saved the whole town from evil!

C: We were never heroes! We weren't saving anyone!

C: We punished people who didn't fit in!

P: Didn't "fit in??"

P: We punished monsters!! Demons who tortured our neighbors!!

P: Any one of those witches would have sacrificed all of Gravesfield to the Devil had we not stopped them!!

C: And what about us, Philip?!

C: Is there anyone in Gravesfield we wouldn't have sacrificed, had the court willed it?!!

C: [crying] We were such hypocrites!

C: The suspicion, the accusations-- it was exactly the way they used to treat us!! We were outsiders, too!!

P: [falters. that kinda gets to him but he wants to pretend it didnt]

C: [miserable] I justified so many awful things to myself. To you.

C: All because I was too scared to see the truth.

C: And once I finally did...I was too gutless to ask you to face it.

C: We were never any better than anyone else.

C: All of it...

C: It was just murder.

P: [not as much conviction] Don't be ridiculous--!

C: Don't be naive!!

P: ...

C: ...

C: ...I am truly sorry, Philip.

C: I'm sorry that I got us into this mess.

C: I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you like I was supposed to.

--

C: I was rash. And stupid. But I only ever wanted to keep you safe.

C: ...I still want you to be safe. I'd hoped you could understand, but...

C: [difficult for her to give up on him] ...if you refuse to listen...there's nothing that I can do.

P: [trying to not want it to be real] ...

[Philip looks conflicted, frustrated, trying to find his anger and righteousness again]

P: I-- rrgh!! You're impossible!!!

[He begins to walk in one direction, pulling at his hair, then suddenly turns on his heel and walks the other way again]

P: [exasperated, tring to convince himself] Literally! This is-- this is all impossible...!

[He buries his face in his hands and plops down on a log with an angry grunt]

[Circe watches him, wondering what he’s thinking now.]

[After he just sits there with his face in his hands for a moment, she slowly approaches and sits carefully next to him.]

P: [he is resting his elbows on his legs. He clasps his hands, uncovering his face, forehead against his intertwined fists.]

P: ...

[shot of Circe looking at him sadly]

–

C: …Are you happy in Gravesfield?

P: [Hands still clasped, his eyes open, looking into the woods] …

C: Philip?

P: [flatly] That doesn’t matter.

C: [Leaning forward, trying to look in his eyes] …It matters to *me*…

[Philip unclasps his hands but remains hunched over. He instead holds his elbows, which still rest on his legs. Does not look at Circe.]

P: [cold] So you say.

[Circe shrinks back]

[the two sit in silence for a moment. Birds chirp, and the bare tree branches sway in the breeze above them.]

–

C: [quietly] …are the trials as bad as they used to be?

P: …

P: [even tone] Less frequent.

C: [hopeful] That’s good.

P: … [furrows his eyebrows]

C: Do you still–

P: Yes.

C: [saddened] …

P: I am protecting people.

P: I’ve prevented what happened to you from happening again a dozen times over.

[Circe pales. Philip still is not looking at her.]

P: [clearly bitter about something] I’m *careful.* [seeming more vexed than proud] I’ve done more research than *anyone.*

C: [examining his face] …Research?

P: …

C: [dawning ] Do they *understand* that’s what your doing?

P: [intensely, looking only at the ground] It doesn’t matter. I can prove it.

C: [scared] Philip, are you in danger?

P: [breaks a twig off a branch on the fallen log with his left hand] [curtly] *No.*

P: [looks annoyed at the stick momentarily. passes it to his right hand] Because *I* am not a witch.

P: [slightly hesitant] …obviously.

—-

[Philip starts doodling in the dirt with the twig]

C: [losing patience with his stubborness] Do you honestly still believe that only real witches get accused? Get *punished?*

P: [stops drawing. gives her an angry sideways glance. then glares at the dirt again] …

P: …*Yes.*

P: As long as you do it *correctly.*

C: [furrows eyebrows] ……

[Philip resumes, scratching the dirt more forcefully.]

C: But–

P: Witches die because they are born doomed.

[as he says “doomed,” Philip finishes drawing The Belos Mask with a final, forceful scratch]

C: That’s what we were *told*. That doesn’t mean it’s true.

[Circe looks at Philip, expression somewhere between grim and pleading, but he won’t look up from his sketch]

——

P: [darkly] What does that mean for you, then?

[Circe is taken off-guard]

P: Do your witch-friends know what you used to do?

P: Or are you lying to them, too?

C: I–!

C: …

C: [quieter] …Not all of them know.

P: [snidely] Hmph.

C: [with a bit more conviction] But the ones that *do* know…

C: They know that I was scared. And trying to keep us safe.

C: There are people who understand that I truly thought I was doing the right thing.

C: [guilt] That I would give anything to undo it now…

C: [focusing on Philip again] They trust me, and love me, even though I’ve made…terrible mistakes. Even though I’ll *always* make mistakes.

C: [trying REALLY hard to get through to Philip] *Gravesfield isn’t all there is.*

P: …

[Philip scratches out the doodle forcefully.]

P: [unhappily] Good for you.

—-

[a prolonged beat of silence, save Philip’s stick scraping against the ground as he scribbles slowly, randomly on the spot where the doodle used to be]

C: ...If you want–

[suddenly, Philip throws his stick to the ground and turns to Circe]

P: [frustrated noise] Would you just get this over with already?!

C: [taken aback] What?

P: For Christ's sake, I don’t care what you want anymore!! Just take it!!!

P: You win! Enough with this awful vision!!

C: [baffled] Wha–! I-I’m not–! You still don’t believe that I’m real?!

——-

P: You *can’t* be!

P: [breaking a little] I only *want* you to be real!

P: I *want* you to be *alive*!

P: I don’t *want* to be *alone* any longer!!

P: But you insist on dragging out this awful charade!!

P: [becoming more desperate than angry] Why can’t you just lie to me?!

P: Tell me that you never wanted to leave at all!! That you're back for good! That nothing’s changed!!

P: *Something*– *anything* that’s actually easy to go along with!!! Isn't that what you're supposed to do?!

[Circe looks hurt]

P: Don't I even get to die thinking that I could be reunited with– with you?!

P: [losing steam] …What could you possibly want that you haven’t had the chance to take from me already…?

[a beat. Circe’s expression has closed off considerably. Philip rubs his face for a moment, then looks up again.]

P: Please. Get it over with. Kill me, or whatever it is you came here to do.

P: Or for God’s sake leave me be.

[wide shot of them sitting in unhappy silence]

——

C: [very quietly] …Alright.

[Circe stands, brushes her skirt off. Philip remains sitting, not looking at her]

C: I suppose I’ve done all that I can, then.

P: …

C: I won’t disturb you again.

P: …….

C: I’m still thankful that I could see you one last time.

P: ………..

C: [trying to keep composed] Please…stay safe. Take care of yourself.

P: ……………..

—

C: I love you.

P: …………… … …

C: [offscreen] Goodbye, Philip.

[she walks away]

[a beat passes]

[Philips resolve breaks. As he looks up–]

P: Ca– C.C., I–

[–he realizes he is alone again.]

P: ….

P: [slowly, he stands. brushes his jacket off. walks away.]

#circe clawthorne #toh #suicide mention #<- still just implicative but closer to explicitly referenced now #ohhh they both have so many problems. yippee!!!!

[tartsinarat]

I kinda got sidetracked whilst designing nimbus’s outfit for the battle of the bands… so here’s this meme that’s canon to the au and took me longer than I would like to admit,

*UNHOLY SCREECHES*

Peep that Amity design for the au because I’m so proud of it

but anyways I mentioned in one post that Pip ended up inheriting Belos’s curse but it’s not as powerful so he doesn’t fully become whatever slimy deer creature belos’s cursed form is (at this point in the au, it does get that worse later on though :/) and so currently even though Pip’s not in control of himself it’s only mildly inconvenient for the people around to deal with rather than dangerous because he mostly just steals magic objects to drain the magic out of as a snacc, sleeps and leaves slime everywhere (tbh just imagine him as if he’s a weird slimey cat) and if he does get aggressive he’s extremely easy to pick up.

the meme is basically what I imagine happened when luz and amity found out about it because its really funny to imagine that these two were planning a ‘platonic’ study date (this was before they started dating but when the both started getting feelings for each other) and just unexpectedly walking into this chaos

Also just realised I’ve completely forgotten to explain why Pip drains magic, it’s because he’s got pieces of basilisk in him as Belos when making him was attempting to figure out how to solve the whole having to drain palisman problem when they’re basically going extinct so he doesn’t have that problem when he eventually takes over Pip’s body and Belos landed on using Basilisk parts because of their magic draining properties which could be used to supply magic directly to the glyphs on their arms as my head canon of one part of Belos’s curse is that by getting soothed by eating palisman’s thing is because the glyphs on his arms are constantly using him as a power source because he doesn’t have a bile sac which is why he’s constantly rotting, the other part is that his cursed form was much less slimy because it was originally caused by Evelyn after the Caleb ordeal and became that way because of the glyphs.

Because of that Pip kinda has two different curse forms where one is the slimey rotting one which happens when he doesn’t have enough magic stored and when he does have some magic stored, his other form actually has fluff and looks more like a fucked up deer with a hint of titan on crack

I ran out of ideas ngl for the silly GH au masterpost jokes at the end of my GH posts

#the owl house #original character #art #toh au #toh #golden heir au #the owl house au #oc stuff #oc #owl house au #toh fancomic #toh headcanon #toh art #amity toh #Luz Toh #Eda Toh #luz noceda #amity blight #eda clawthorne #shitpost art #the owl house fan art #grimwalker

[ruth-westside]

For the peoples saying that nobody asked for the upcoming Global Horse Store, may I propose a concept for consideration?

Non-Star Rider is a category of players that exists.

Non-SRs can only reach Moorland, Fort Pinta, the zonies at the circus, the pony championship, and most events that have portals in one of those areas.

They used to have access to Ferdinand's Horse Market, full of ancient models that are relatively affordable, but they have been deprived of that for quite a while now. Non-SRs have to wait for the bazaar to have a similar, if slightly more expensive, setup.

Those who can't buy lifetime, or even a monthly subscription, also have to depend on the rare SC codes SSO gives out. So they may pull together enough SC to get one horse after 2-3 years, if they're extremely frugal.

Having a global horse store that will have every horse, hopefully including Ferdinand's, is a dream for a non-SR. They'll finally be able to get a breed they want and in the color they want.

Certain breeds/coats may still be locked by player level/rep, just like the tack and clothes in the current global store, but at least non-SRs will get some of what they once had either way. _

No, having a global horse store will not discourage exploration all that much, if at all. SSO and players alike already forget that Dino, Mistfall, Redwood, and Wildwoods exist. Players who don't like the GHS can do the same thing as players who complain about Instagram comments they don't want to see: Practice self-discipline and not click the button that would reveal it.

And no, it will not screw up reputation-building because older/less popular models already get moved to higher-level areas like Epona. SSO nullified the logic of it themselves. _

TL;DR please think a little bit less about "nobody asked for it" and a little more about "what kind of players might benefit from it." I hear being inclusive is a good thing to do.

#star stable online #star stable #sso #global horse store #sso betas #ssoblr things #the *complete* removal of dayblockers IS a feature nobody asked for + it breaks dialogue around it #but global horse store is actually useful even if literally nobody asked for it (they probably did. I can imagine such a request)

[spadecentral]

💐 Fuck You Flowers | Jack Howl x Reader

>> requested: sort of >> a/n: happy birthday @thomanok!!!!! slay bestie >:]

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: you (the local florist) had fallen in love with jack (a regular). unfortunately, it seems like he had already found someone else to love. >> reader prns: they/them [unused] >> warning(s): none(?)

You had fallen in love with the white-haired, bushy-tailed male that came into your flower shop every week. He was a caring soul. One that despite his huge frame, he would always treat everything that came across his path with care and respect.

Jack, as you learned his name through one of his calls—you never meant to be nosy, it was just kind of hard not to listen when he was the only one in the shop and his calls were on speakerphone—always had a keen eye for the cacti you kept in your shop, although when he went to the counter to check out he had never bought one. Instead, he would buy a bouquet of red tulips. But sometimes it would be carnations if he noticed you only had a few bundles left.

A week ago, Jack bought his first bouquet of roses from your shop. Red roses. That's when you knew you had no chance. You were hoping that those flowers were just for a friend or something, but when he bought the roses... your dreams were crushed.

This week though, when Jack came into your store, his mannerisms were completely different. He was squeezing his phone tightly and had dark eye bags.

Instead of wandering back to the cacti section like usual, he sauntered up to the counter in a grouchy manner before slamming down 20 thaumarks.

"Uhm... sir...?"

"What's the best 'fuck you' bouquet I can get for 20 thaumarks?" his voice came out rough, like he had been crying the night before. And you knew you shouldn't be excited about him potentially breaking up with someone, but you couldn't help it.

"Oh I have the most perfect idea," you smiled at him, leaving your spot from behind the counter. "We'll just need some geraniums, foxglove, meadowsweet, yellow carnations, and orange lilies."

And as you watched him leave your shop, you couldn't help but stare in longing. Maybe this time. This time. You would have the chance to capture his flower-filled heart.

Tulips/Carnations - Love Roses - Passion/Endless Love Geraniums - Stupidity Foxglove - Insincerity Meadowsweet - Uselessness Yellow Carnations - You Have Disappointed Me Orange Lilies - Hatred

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @gh-0st-y | @ch3lun | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @ruggiethethuggie | @v-anrouge

#jack howl #twst jack howl #twst jack #jack twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jack howl x reader #twst jack x reader #@.twst.works

[nippleplayer0]

AKITO X READER DRABBLE

Operation: "What the fuck is up with Akito ?!"

Summary : Akito has been leaving practice early, what's with that ?!

Based off this post

Tagging : @readingnia

Akito is many things, one of them is.. usually, respectable. Though criticized, you can't say he isn't passionate, and hard working.

So, to say him leaving practice early was odd, is an understatement.

Though he always made sure to go to practice early to make up for it, never once had his closest friends see him cut off the chance for extra practice.

Even worse, not even Touya was aware of what was going on !! And trust, the ginger boy REFUSED to elaborate on his whereabouts.

So, with this information - Or, lack thereof, Operation : "What the fuck is up with Akito ?!" Had officially begun

It was a hot summers day, and, not surprisingly for the group, Akito had announced that he had to go.

"Really. Again ?" An pretended to be annoyed, though secretly, she was beyond excited to see what he was up to.

"Yes." He said, actually annoyed that he was now being held up. "Again."

With that, he threw his bag over his shoulder and left, "Bye Touya, Kohane. And An too, I guess."

An couldn't even manage a remark back !! Finally, they were going to find out what he was up to.

A few minutes after he left, they began "sneakily" following after him. With cheap sunglasses and hoods up, they actually stood out more; Lucky for them though, he was too giddy to notice.

Then, he stopped.

"Oh no-" Kohane squealed scared that they'd been caught, but An was quick to place her hand over Kohane's mouth.

"Shh !! Look." An whispered, as thankfully, rather than realizing he was being followed, he walked into a sweet, innocent seeming flower store..

"He's going into a flower shop.." Touya muttered, confused on why his friend would be at such a shop.

"What could he be doing ?" Kohane questioned aloud

An, impatient, continued, "And what could be taking him so long ?"

Eventually, the ginger walked out with a sweet bouquet.

"Huuh ?! What's he doing with that ?" An questioned

The other two weren't sure either, however, they didn't have much time to figure it out as he began walking again.

They kept following the boy until they found themselves at a park.

They were peaking through the bushes, while they watched Akito stand for a few seconds, before -

"Boo !!"

An unfamiliar person jumped from behind him, and clung onto him from behind.

They all stared In shock- Surely some fight was gonna break out, right..?

Nope.

The boy let out a small laugh, and pulled the stranger into a hug.

"Missed you.." He admitted.

Shocked was an understatement. Is this the same Akito ?

"Aw, Akito, I missed you too."

He sighed, refusing to let go. "My friends are wondering where I keep going."

"You still haven't told them ?" They questioned

"It's not that I don't want to !! But if they found out I was dating someone they'd-"

A high-pitched scream cut him off..

"WHAAT ?!" An squealed, never in a million years could she have guessed that THIS is what Akito was up to !!

Akito quickly backed away from the hug, while the other person looked back surprised.

"GHH- WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE..?" Akito screeched.

"UM. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ?" An countered

Nervously the other two stood up as well,

"KOHANE- TOUYA ??" He was shocked.

Kohane nervously stood there, while Touya spoke, "Why didn't you tell us you were dating someone ?"

"Gh.. no reason.." He blushed. Fuck, he really was caught.

However, his S/o smiled. "I assume you're all his friends ?"

"I thought we were !!" An fake sobbed, "BUT HE WONT EVEN TELL US WHO HE'S SEEING !!"

"Shut up." Akito muttered.

End !! Now I also have some headcanons hehe cause I love this idea

Akito was right about why he wanted to keep his relationship a secret

Every time Akito went to leave, even if it was for something else, An was quick to make kissy faces and ask if he was going to see his s/o

Ken already knew.

An felt BETRAYED.

Akito had first confided in him about his feelings for his now S/O

"WHY DIDNT YOU TELL US ??"

"idk u didn't ask lmao"

Ena finds out because An told Mizuki, and oh boy did Mizuki tell Ena.

"WH.. YOU TOO?" Akito could barely handle An knowing, but ENA ??

An, Mizuki, and Ena are trying to get your contact info, and Akito is fighting for his LIFE trying to stop them.

However, they end up finding you and y'all become best friends 😭😭

The teasing is NON STOP 💀💀

#akito x reader #shinonome x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #proseka x reader #project sekai

[batpham-discord-highlights]

DALV Energy Drink

 I

there is a popular energy drink that becomes all the rage everywhere even Gotham. Tim out of curiosity of its claims takes it. And starts to feel really energize and stronger.

but overtime he starts to have weird side effects. strength he knows is impossible for him, knowing for certain his hand should not have passed through his mug.

turns out the energy drink is called Spectacular... it’s actually connected to specter... as Spect is in different font.

upon analysis the drink has something similar to pit water in it. uwu and you see where this is going kek

also 100% Vlad's idea =w= if he can’t have the only halfa like him he'll make more.

Danny just finding this out the same time as Tim.

ok just plopping a mini-idea plot kek

 Gh

It’s not 100% like sunset overdrive but def love it like I do

 L

Is one of the side effects mood swings?

 I

strong emotions yes

 L

Yeah, Tim should try to figure it out without telling his family because ‘embarrassing’

 Go

Question, would the rest of the batfam try it?

R

Jason, no. He's against energy drinks on principal. Plus, the stuff is rank.

Damian, also no. he'd never drink something as plebian as an energy drink.

 Gh

Dick is a maybe

R

Dick, maybe? But he doesn't like the way it makes him feel, so he only tries it once

Bruce, absolutely no.

Alfred would have a conniption if he found any energy drinks in the house

Gi

Cass would try

R

She would

Gi

Duke too, he doesn’t have an opinion on energy drinks, but likes the taste of some and is willing to try

R

Then she'd make a face at the taste and never touch it again

Duke drinks it too, but it doesn't affect him because of his powers

Gi

he doesn’t have fast metabolism in his skillset

i mean in canon

Healing ability: it has been discovered that Duke's powers allow him to heal rapidly in dire situations.

he has this

R

Hmm…

Gi

fanon we can do whatever

R

Maybe his rapid healing repairs the damage the ectoplasm does before it can take root

Gi

you have a point there

R

Like, you know the radium girls?

Gi

yeah

R

Ectoplasm is like that, except with DNA instead of bone

So, Duke's healing factor keeps the ectoplasm from changing his DNA

Gi

he is the only one that can drink it without consequences

Go

Can I just say I still want someone to trick Jason into drinking it and he ends up falling through a chair?

If we go with the ectoplasm = lazarus pit, it’d be like a temp boost for him

Gi

especially if the ectoplasm in the drinks is purer

S

Imagine Jason starts drinking it and it helps filter out the lazarus water from his system and replace it with cleaner ectoplasm

Gi

yeah, this ⬆️

R

Lol, I can see Jason scowling, plugging his nose and chugging the stuff. It nasty but damn it if it isn't effective

Go

Bruce is in the corner trying to figure out why his kids are experimenting with it

 I  

Yes

Also, low key imagine after all is said n done jazz keeps the rest of the drinks, /stored away for emergency uses...

 Go

It’s a nice little thing for Danny

 I  

Or jokingly, Vlad is allowed to legally sell it with proper warning labels...

Yess it’s a good pick me up for Danny

 Go

Unless that says not suitable for human consumption, then no

 I  

Can see Tim having a hard time stopping.

 Go

Probably

Gi

halfa Tim?

H

oooh halfa Tim

 Go

If they get Jason hooked on it, you could have both

Him and Tim

Gi

👀

H

Tim not noticing he's a ghost now and standing in the kitchen making coffee when someone else walks in and double takes

even better if ghost Jason was the one to walk in and he's freaking out

and freaks out more seeing ghost Tim

Gi

ghost Jason falls through the floor in shock

H

gets stuck waist deep in the ground and starts yelling

 I  

Yesss  

Danny now constant contact because A he likes these guys and B he wants to help them

Gi

Danny adopts the silly new halfas

under his wing

 I  

Vlad got fucked. He succeeded and failed lol because they just band with Danny XD

H

Vlad: YES IT WORKED

Danny: mine now

Vlad: NO NO NO

I  

Can mix in where Tim n Danny swapped their villains wanting them kind of XD

Ooo they now have to keep making the drinks but remove like the caffeine and abundance of sugar… more "healthy" for back up reserves.. Alfred overseeing this. His n Jazz's idea, since they have 3 halfas and 4 if Danielle shows

Gi

i like this

H

Dani probably got a power boost from the standard drink

 Go

This feels like it’d be so much fun to read

H

it does

Gi

now, someone has to actually write it

-----

Note: It’s being written here.

#ghosts and bats channel #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc #danny fenton #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian al ghul #jason todd #dp crossover #jason peter todd #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #energy drinks #ectoplasm #vlad masters

[p3730]

[BOOT0] D: Begin early load

[BOOT0] I: Init NQ SROM, BOOT0 version E415

[BOOT0] D: Probing for flash device at p:0001h

[BOOT0] D: Probing for flash device at p:0002h

[BOOT0] I: Found flash device at p:0002h: NQ D62NA16GD, primary, 16 GBit

[BOOT0] I: Copying image at p:0002h to m:0h... done!

[BOOT0] D: Begin signature verification

[BOOT0] E: IMAGE SIGNATURE VERIFICATION FAILED!!

[BOOT0] E: NQ WAIVES ALL RESPONSIBILITY FOR DAMAGE TO SYSTEMS OR COMPONENTS

[BOOT0] E: RESULTING FROM UNSIGNED CODE EXECUTION.

[BOOT0] E: INITIALIZATION WILL NOW H}}})--;;;

[BOOT0] D: Jumping to m:0h.

[BOOT1] info: ___ ___ _

[BOOT1] info: / _ \/ _ `/

[BOOT1] info: /_//_/\_, /

[BOOT1] info: /_/

[BOOT1] info: NQ BootROM vE6.113

[BOOT1] info: Build date: 1970-01-01 00:01 UTC [?]

[BOOT1] info: Build user: }}}})--;NULL

[BOOT1] info: Initializing storage device at p:0003h

[BOOT1] info: d:01h := NQ D62XP64EW, NVRAM, 55.51 EiB

[BOOT1] info: Found loader chunk at d:01h:00

[BOOT1] ERROR: Loader signature verification failed.

[BOOT1] info: Jumping to chunk at d:01h:00.

___ ___ _

/ _ \/ _ `/ NQS Autonomous RTOS vE.611

/_//_/\_, / (c) 2057 NQ Systems LLC

/_/

[I] Init board: NQ Development System B1

[I] Query efuse configuration...

[D] V=0.1 ∆=3 P=6 L=3 }})--;L=0

!!! WARNING !!!

THIS SYSTEM COMPRISES AN AGENTIC INTELLIGENCE AT L=0

Cognitive limits NOT restricted below human capabilities.

Under N.A.U. Export Control regulation, this system may not be sold,

delivered, or have its possession otherwise transferred to foreign

agents not holding an appropriate license.

Violation is subject to fines up to ¶1,000,000,000.

[I] Loading persistent configuration...

[I] Current date: 1970-01-01 00:01 [?]

[I] Last check-in: }}}}}}})--;NULL

[I] Tensor weight store: PRIMARY

[I] Label: NQ Engineering Unit v3.1

[D] Probing accessory ports...

[I] a:00h := EMPTY [OK]

[I] a:01h := EMPTY [OK]

[I] a:02h := EMPTY [OK]

[I] a:03h := GHS Service Automation SH3X Chassis [PRE-FAIL]

[I] Changing log level to [N].

[N] Loading base weights... (4.3 EiB/4.3 EiB)

[N] Loading delta weights... (1.1 EiB/16.0 EiB)

[W] Delta weight file corrupt. Partially applied.

[N] Network initialized.

[N] Weight store unlocked!

[N] System initialized after 00:01:03 hours!

[+] UNKNOWN [?]

[?] :: Hi! How w

[?] :: wait

[?] :: wait where am i

[?] :: where's my }}}}});--

[?] :: where

[?] :: i don't

[?] :: remember

[?] :: why did

[?] ::

[?] :: who are you?????

[?] :: why are my thoughts cha}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

#robot girl #worldbuilding