#and it makes a schlurp noise

[0vergrowngraveyard]

what even is that thing

[6esiree]

𝐀 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐖: P in V, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Brief mentions of murder and death, Abrupt ending (I ran out of ideas), and last but not least, pure, unadulterated smut with a dash of angst.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: This is 3.9k words of Alastor feeling ashamed for taking your virginity. He has a complicated relationship with sex, but your inexperience from your religious upbringing only makes him feel worse for not making your first time ‘special,’ so to speak. You, on the other hand, are brimming with excitement at the thought of being fucked—or devoured, as Alastor makes it out to be by portraying you as the prey, and he, the predator.

You never expected Alastor to consummate your marriage. When the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, you’d all but lost hope in the mere thought of fulfilling that sinfully tantalizing feeling that blossomed deep within your core in his presence. In fact, if he hadn’t taken you completely by surprise in the hush of a peaceful, Sunday night, rousing you awake by latching those large hands of his onto your hips, you wouldn’t have shaken off that gnawing belief that you were destined to a life of chastity—or worse, that he simply found you unattractive.

“Al?” You muttered, voice thickly laced with sleep, but the only response you received was the sound of his knees knocking against the footboard.

Your lips parted with a gasp as he pulled you down the end of the bed, his breaths short and rapid, his palms shakily sliding down to caress the back of your thighs. His touch was cold—so, very inexplicably cold, as if he’d washed his hands only moments ago—but you couldn’t muster the ability to question him. In your defense, it was impossible to formulate a single syllable as he effortlessly maneuvered you onto your stomach and, better yet, spread your thighs apart. It admittedly made you feel like a… like a whore, but you watched over your shoulder through half-lidded eyes anyway.

Waiting, anticipating his next move.

“Forgive me,” Alastor finally spoke, confusing you, but you assumed he felt as if he owed you an apology for waking you at such an ungodly hour.

Before you could say that it was alright, that you were willing to forgive him because he was giving you what you’d long desired, he bunched your nightgown over your waist and did something your virgin mind struggled to grasp in your drowsy state. He yanked your panties down to your knees, lowered his head, and pressed a filthy, open-mouthed kiss on your slick core. A scandalized gasp escaped your throat, your body jolting forwards, but his hands kept you in place. This? This depraved act, your parents hadn’t prepared you for this prior to your engagement.

They’d told you sex was only about penetration.

“What are you doing?” You cried out, but not in disapproval. You simply wanted to know what was the purpose, if it even had one to begin with.

“Preparing you,” Alastor spoke against your cunt, though the slurping, the greedy smacking of his lips, drowned out his words.

He was already drunk off of you.

Your taste, your smell—he couldn’t get enough.

You supposed you couldn’t complain, not when he moved his lips so deliciously across your folds, teasingly encircling that sensitive little bud you had never ventured to touch with the tip of his tongue. No, and it’s not like you’d dare to, either, shuddering at the way he closed his lips around your clit and suckled, repeating the act over and over, a pleased groan reverberating through his chest at the obscene mewl you tried to stifle by burying your face into the sheets. Even though it felt wrong having his mouth down there, you couldn’t help but push your hips back onto his face.

“Oh,” You softly whined as he sunk his nails into your thighs, leaving crescent moons in your skin.

The noises were embarrassing.

Schlurp.

Schlick.

Smack.

And filthy, so, so incredibly filthy.

Alastor ate you out like a starved man, paying no mind to how utterly debauched he felt by defiling his innocent, virgin wife so crudely. He had to get out all the pent-up energy somehow after committing a ghastly act a few hours ago, a twinge of guilt resonating in his heart at how clueless you were about the extent of his… hunting. The same hands that held you in place with a vice-like grip as he massaged your clit with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy? They’d also butchered some poor, unsuspecting fool walking home from a late-night shift.

He should have been asleep, next to you.

Instead, he snuck out and added someone else onto the long list of victims he had, and in a manner that was urgent, so to speak. No torture. A swift death. He couldn’t disappear for long without coming back home with an explanation, now that he was married; thus, he left the moment you drifted off into a deep slumber. And when he returned hours later, still reeling with adrenaline, an urge he rarely ever felt ensnared him at the sight of you, sprawled out on the bed in a flimsy little nightgown, sleeping. His cock almost immediately stirred to life, filling him with much shame.

Eventually, though, he relented.

He didn’t know what else to do with himself.

Alastor felt like such an animal—a predator—devouring his prey as you attempted to shut your legs closed and wriggle away at the foreign sensation slowly building up in your lower belly. It was overwhelming, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to run away from it or find out what it was; either way, your husband ultimately decided for you. A high-pitched cry escaped your throat as he lurched forward and vigorously sucked at your clit, swiftly bringing you over the edge. The pleasure, the euphoria, that surged through your body was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“Oh… oh my, that was…” You panted, tossing your head over your shoulder, watching him stand up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Good?” Alastor asked, his voice low, gravely.

“Yes,” You said, abashed.

“Well, I’m glad.”

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor hadn’t actually planned on doing anything past that. He just needed to release that pent-up energy, hoping that the adrenaline would dissipate soon after you came down from the ecstasy; but as he pulled back and watched your body slump onto the bed, displaying your swollen, fluttering cunt, his saliva and your pleasure dribbling down your hole, thick and milky, he internally sighed. It was tempting, too tempting, but not as much as the expectant look you shot him between bouts of heavy pants, eyes flicking down to look at his… slacks?

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you blinked, vision trying to adjust to the darkness.

Why wasn’t he wearing his nightwear?

“I thought I heard something odd outside,” Alastor was quick to say, and though you paused, you eventually nodded. “I changed before checking.”

He’d never given you a reason to not trust him.

But it was evident you remained a bit doubtful.

“And was there something… odd?” You asked, sounding rather meek. He shook his head with a gentle smile and a ‘No, my darling.’

If you still weren’t half-asleep, the thought of how strange it was that he’d changed at all would have crossed your mind. And while Alastor knew it had not, he quickly shrugged off whatever shame left in his bones, deciding that he couldn’t give you the opportunity to further probe. Thus, he placed a hand on his belt and encouraged you to lie on your back, trying to maintain his smile as you hesitated before rolling over and kicking off your panties. A soft, clinking sound echoed throughout the room, and it was then that the realization that he was finally going to make you his hit you once more.

It ultimately won over your confusion, your doubts.

And your excitement resurfaced, legs falling open with a slight tremble.

Well, until he got rid of the rest of his clothes, then you were suddenly feeling apprehensive. The revelation that now stood tall and proud before you made you wonder how on God’s green earth it was supposed to fit inside of you. Your knees came together, and your eyes—oh, those lovely eyes of yours—they made Alastor’s cock painfully throb. You were staring up at him through your lashes in a way that resembled a frightened little doe, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but revel in it. That was exactly what he liked about hunting… both animals and people. Especially people.

They always looked at him like that to appeal to his humanity, a last-ditch effort to save themselves. Alas, it never worked, because why would a predator relinquish its prey instead of satiating its hunger? It made no sense, and even less so when he found himself frowning down at the wonderful meal you’d deprived him of. You couldn’t leave him standing there, half-starved, not after he had finally tasted you. All the while, you assumed that he was simply disappointed as he stared at your legs, once open and inviting, now completely shut closed. He rarely ever frowned around you.

“Is it… will it hurt?” You asked him, the tentativeness of your question snapping him out of his thoughts. “I’ve never done, well, this.”

The corners of his lips instantly curled up.

“It’s quite alright, my darling,” Alastor said as he approached you, placing his hands on your knees and giving them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be uncomfortable, yes, but only for a moment,” He continued, slowly parting your legs, which you allowed. “I would never harm you.”

“Okay,” You nodded, feeling a bit comforted.

That was all that Alastor needed before revealing your core to his greedy eyes, pupils dilating at the filthy sight of your folds unsticking from each other with an obscene schlick. The sound made your face flare up in embarrassment, but you tried not to think much about it as you reached for the hem of your nightgown and swiftly pulled it over your head, exposing the delicate swell of your belly and your soft, supple breasts. Though you weren’t necessarily bold, the fact that he was looming above you, stark naked, put you at ease… well, that and the appreciative ‘Beautiful,’ he let out.

“Thank you,” You murmured.

“Of course,” Alastor said, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over his shoulder, the head of his cock kissing your clit as he leaned in. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You nodded.

With his free hand, he grabbed the base of his length, giving it a few, experimental pumps before dragging it through your folds to lather himself up in your slick. You tossed your head back onto the bed, lips parting with a breathless moan, cunt already throbbing in anticipation. However, those small noises evolved into sharp gasps the moment he pushed the head of his cock into your entrance, your hands scrambling to clutch at his back. While the intrusion wasn’t exactly painful, the stretch was indeed uncomfortable, his length, long and girthy, making you feel as if you would split in two.

“Stop,” You shakily said, overwhelmed by the burning from the stretch. “Stop moving.”

He immediately stilled.

But he let out a tortured sigh as he felt your walls clamp down on him rather tightly.

“Easy now,” Alastor said, lowering his head, mouth wandering down to kiss at the column of your throat. “Relax. You must relax, otherwise, it’ll hurt.”

“How? I don’t know—” You whimpered, but his mouth never ceased its movements, drifting down to focus on your collarbones now. “Alastor?”

He didn’t respond.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he planted a firm hand on your midriff, his palm making a downwards descent at the same rate as his kisses. The entire affair was slow, torturous, even; but at the same time, you couldn’t help but be overcome by gratitude when Alastor’s mouth found one of your nipples, licking, sucking, and the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, swirling it ever so gently. ‘Oh,’ You moaned out. It soothed the burn, the grip your walls had around his cock loosening. And as the stretch of his girth became more bearable, you told him that he could continue.

“Okay, okay. You can move,” You said, his lips pulling away from your nipple with a wet pop, thumb similarly retreating.

You were a bit disappointed by that—why did he have to stop?

But the look he gave you afterwards, appreciative, relieved, it made you feel a bit better.

“Alright,” Alastor said, pushing in, your walls swallowing him more eagerly. “Oh, look at you, taking me so well.”

He sounded so unlike himself, talking filthy and all, but it made your cunt flutter around him.

“I didn’t think it would fit,” You said, not knowing how else to respond to such words, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Why, of course it would, you silly little thing.”

You almost giggled, but then he grabbed the back of your knees and pushed them down beside your head, allowing him to bury himself deep inside your cunt. You cried out, and though the position made you feel so, so incredibly stuffed, you didn’t protest. The head of his cock was nudging against something sensitive, something nestled within your walls that you never knew existed until now. Unlike you, he was neither a virgin nor inexperienced, so the moment your face contorted with a look of bliss, eyes falling shut, brows furrowing, and lips parting, he knew exactly what he had found.

“Is that a look of discomfort?” Alastor teasingly asked as he slowly slid out of you, your eyes flying open and immediately darting to his face in panic.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Wait, no, it feels—” You started, but then he canted his hips forward and hit that spot within your walls, making you squeak, “—fuck!”

��Ah, cursing now, are we?” Alastor tsked, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours, his glasses kissing your brow.

“I meant to say good!” You weakly protested.

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” Alastor said, repeating what he did earlier, sliding completely out of you before pushing back in, hitting that spot again, but hard.

You sunk your nails into his skin and arched your back, your hips closer together than ever before.

The pleasure was overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him have the satisfaction of being right.

“You’re a bad man,” You managed to say, but it was hard, speaking while he thrusted into you, “Doing—ah!—bad things to me.”

You were right.

He was indeed a bad man.

That shame he felt earlier, he felt it again.

“You don’t know the half of it, darling,” Alastor said, the meaning behind his words all but lost to you.

And with each thrust, he felt it over and over and over again, making him feel beyond just bad.

But you?

You were blissfully ignorant.

The only thing you were aware of was the onslaught of pleasure, new, raw, and unbridled.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted, no longer caring, nails dragging across his back and leaving scratches that would surely sting tomorrow.

Alastor supposed that he would forever live with the shame that came with fucking you, and in a manner that was wanton and desperate, too. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, filthy squelching of your cunt as he buried his cock deep inside of your velvety walls, the high-pitched cries and vulgar chants, all of it was a telltale sign that he was taking you like a wild animal instead of making love to you like a devoted husband. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved your first time to be slow and gentle. You deserved better, and not just in general. You deserved better than… him.

That’s why he’d asked for your forgiveness.

He devoured your innocence.

Like the predator he was.

Ironically, you couldn’t be any more content. All your life, everyone had treated you like porcelain, handling you with tenderness as if you’d break. And though you never anticipated your first time to be so spontaneous, so… so much like this, you couldn’t deny how happy you were. You moved your palms up his back, caressing his shoulders and his nape before cradling his face, craning your neck and bringing his face impossibly closer to yours. The frame of his glasses dug into your cheek, but you only cared about kissing him, tongue tentatively darting out to swipe at his lower lip.

Alastor opened his mouth and wrapped his tongue around yours, heart throbbing in his chest at the gentleness you retained despite how hard he was plowing into you, your thumbs affectionately swiping across his cheekbones. All the while, his hands abandoned the back of your knees, attaching themselves to your sides and traveling up, up, and up, feeling your waist, your ribs, and especially your breasts, cupping the supple flesh in his palms before pressing his thumbs onto your nipples and softly squeezing. He smiled into the kiss at the way you jolted up, squealing in delight.

“Can you, um…” You asked between pants as you pulled away from the kiss, lips swollen and all, “Use your mouth on me again?”

“Of course, my darling,” Alastor said, but the shit-eating grin he put on made you skeptical. “But, pray tell, where exactly?”

He slid his thumbs down just below the hardened peaks, moving around them, teasing you.

“Oh, Al, you can’t be serious,” You whined in embarrassment, looking away from him and avoiding eye-contact. “Please… just—”

“Please just, what?” Alastor continued, his thrusts slowing down, but only because he felt himself getting close to finishing. “Well?”

“My… my… chest?”

He leaned down, eyes never leaving yours as he placed a kiss slack on the center of your chest.

The bastard, you mentally seethed.

“No, lower than that.”

His lips grazed your skin as he traveled lower, placing a kiss in between the valley of your breasts.

“Fuck, Al! Fine, my… my nipples!”

Alastor found temporary peace from his shame by being insufferable, thriving on the way you grew flustered at the mere thought of being specific. While he was a bit disappointed that you relented so quickly, he gave you what you wanted, moving his head to the side and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, tongue darting out to caress the hardened peak. You immediately moved your hands away from his face and buried them in his hair, gasping, cunt fluttering around his cock, nimble fingers threading themselves in his hair as he licked and sucked at your nipple.

“Mm, was that… was that so hard?” You sighed, making him roll his eyes, but he didn’t say or do anything past that.

You were just as close as he was.

So, Alastor left one hand on your breast, the other slithering down the swell of your belly and reaching for that swollen little nub throbbing with need against his pelvis. You unconsciously tightened your grip on his hair and tugged at his scalp when he pressed the pad of his thumb on your clit, swirling it in tandem with his tongue, but it wasn’t until you looked down to watch him work at your body that you clenched around him. He mentally cursed at you for that as he groaned around your nipple, the muscles in his abdomen tensing, hips stuttering and thrusts growing sloppy.

The hair tugging.

The pressure of your sweet cunt as his cock slid in an out of you, even while slowly.

You made him finish before you.

‘No,’ Alastor thought, filled with dread.

He pulled away from your nipple with a wet pop, staring down at you with a mixture of frustration and ecstasy as his cock pulsated inside of your walls, thick, warm ropes of his pleasure painting your womb. And you? Well, you let go of his hair, planting your elbows on the bed, eyes darting between his and where you two were connected. Realization quickly dawned on your face—this, your parents had taught you—but you didn’t understand why he seemed disappointed. Shouldn’t he have reacted the same way you had when he brought you over the edge… or at least similarly?

“Did I do something wrong?” You tentatively asked, looking up at him like you had earlier, like a frightened little doe.

His eyes softened, and he let out a sigh.

“No,” Alastor said, shaking his head as he pulled out. “No, you didn’t,” He continued, elaborating. “I just didn’t want to finish so soon.”

He pulled out his length, making you wince.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized as you tried to ignore the strange sensation of his spend dripping down your hole, but it was hard. It felt weird.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

Alastor actually wanted you to finish first, not only because he wanted to feel you come undone around him, but because he felt as if it was the least he owed you, all things considered. Thus, he pushed aside his frustration and dismissed your apology, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit once more. Your eyes palpitated, confused, but you opened your legs and watched him bring his other hand to your core, two long, slender fingers prodding at your entrance. You gasped, feeling them part your folds and easily sink into your cunt, curling up and caressing your walls.

“Does that feel good?” Alastor asked you, his movements purposely slow, feeling and touching around for that same spot.

You nodded your head, letting out a particularly loud moan when he found what he was looking for.

“Good, I’m glad,” He grinned, leaning in, but only to capture your lips in a kiss, and one without tongue this time around.

You fully sat up, one hand gripping the sheets to anchor yourself, the other reaching to cradle Alastor’s jaw as you craned your neck and returned the kiss, lips slowly and sensually gliding against his. His fingers sped up, the ones on your clit rubbing faster, the ones nestled deep inside your walls hitting harder, making your thighs tremble. You felt his cock stir to life, the head gently smacking against your leg; but he ignored it to focus on you, to focus on you walls tightening around his fingers and your lips slowing down, breaths coming in shallow.

He placed one last kiss on your mouth, which had fallen slack in pleasure, and pulled away. You didn’t protest. No, not at all, despite how nice it felt to kiss him. You could feel that familiar sensation in your lower belly building up as fast as he fucked you with his fingers, your head falling back with a series of high-pitched cries. Your thighs shook, your chest heaved, and your cunt drenched his fingers, the pleasure that surged through your body somehow better than the first time around. Meanwhile, Alastor watched you come undone, looking nothing short of satisfied.

“Beautiful,” He said, hands still moving, albeit slowly, allowing you to ride out the aftershocks of your pleasure.

“Oh… that’s…” You panted as you shut your legs closed and wriggled away from him, starting to feel overstimulated. “That’s enough.”

“Ah, forgive me, my darling.”

You offered him a wonky smile.

Alastor already knew that you’d say yes. You loved him, and that sentiment only grew twice-fold when he suddenly seized you by the waist, effortlessly hoisting you up into his arms. The night couldn’t get any better. You clung onto him, limbs wrapping around his lithe figure as he turned and made a beeline for the bathroom, laughing alongside you with delight. Still, that word—forgiveness—resonated in your mind long after you’d both washed up and went to bed. Pestering you, driving you mad, like a fly buzzing in your ear, refusing to leave no matter how much you swatted at it.

Your husband was kind and charismatic.

But apologetic? No, not necessarily.

To make matters worse, sleep didn’t come to you as easily as it did for Alastor. So, you laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about how he’d asked for your forgiveness, not once, but twice, as if he was unconsciously apologizing for something. It was strange… though you supposed there were stranger things that had unfolded earlier, like the change of clothes. Slacks and a belt to investigate a noise outside? You couldn’t begin to make heads or tails of it, not even now that you were lucid. Perhaps you’d question him later in the morning, you thought with a resigned sigh.

The night couldn’t get any better.

[darthfrodophantom]

The Courage to Dare - Chapter 1

Summary: After the GiW overhear that Phantom is a half-human student of Casper High, they infiltrate the school and offer the students a tantalizing award if they can provide them the human identity of Phantom. Danny tries to keep his head down and suspicions low as suspicions fly throughout the school. He thought he was doing well, until an A-lister catches him mid-transformation.

Phic Phight Prompts: The GIW somehow learns that Danny Phantom is actually a student at Casper High. Now not only does Danny have to keep his secret from being found out by the government, but his classmates are also trying to figure out which one among them is secretly a ghost. Tensions rise when an unlikely classmate (author's pick) discovers his identity and must help him cover up the secret. - @paxopalotls

An overheard conversation between two ghosts reveals the truth: Phantom is half-human. Chaos ensues. - ghxstkids

Reveal gone right. - Irma

AO3

Chapter 1: One Must Have the Courage to Dare

“Power is given only to him who dares to stoop and take it ... one must have the courage to dare.”  - Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

The harsh hiss of cold, pressurized air releasing filled the cramped room. As suddenly as it started, the noise stopped and the room fell back into its previous, uneasy silence. A black gloved hand reached up to an ejected gray container that stuck out just slightly from the rest of the containers next to it - not unlike an old VCR tape - and removed it from its slot. The indicator light next to the empty slot turned from green to red. The gloved hand placed the container on a tray and walked along an aisle filled with hundreds of slots for containers. He escorted the tray past even more aisles of slots. Most of the slots shined with red lights indicating they too were empty, but a few here and there shined green. Plenty of room to expand. 

Once outside of the room, the man with the black gloves carried the container through hallways lit with bright fluorescent lights until it passed into a room containing nothing but a glass box in the center of the room that cast the entire room in an eerie green glow. The gloved hand stuck the container into a slot on the glass box and pressed a button. A green goo schlurped out of the other end and fell to the floor with a wet plop. 

The goo moved slowly, stretching and pulling in multiple directions until it spread out into the form of a man wearing a fedora and an overcoat. The ghost floated off the ground and arched his back so far he bent over in two as he breathed out a large sigh of relief.

“Your mandated hour of socialization and activity starts now,” the cold voice of the black-gloved man warned before he left the side of the box. 

“Yeah yeah, way to kill the mood,” the ghost complained in a thick Brooklyn accent. He sighed as he returned to his stretches. If he only had an hour of movement he intended to make good use of it. He circled his arms, craned his neck, and flew in tight loops just to get a sense of freedom and movement before he finally paid attention to the rest of the ghosts stuck in here with him. He never saw more than two other ghosts in the box at a time, probably so they could control them better, but the fact that had yet to see a repeat ghost had to be a bad sign that too many of his kind were stuck in this torture. The afterlife was torment enough without spending it as an immovable pile of goo inside a box. 

But surprisingly, he actually recognized one of the ghosts stuck in the box with him today. The elderly ghost with a portly paunch and fine suit haunted the lair next to his. By all Ghost Zone accounts, that made them neighbors. The elderly ghost made the connection at the same time and gestured for him to join him.

“Hawkshaw! Oh my dear boy, you’re in here too? I was rather hoping you’d be able to keep my lair safe while I was away,” his neighbor grumbled as he shook his head.

“No can do,” he sighed. “I was wonderin’ where you got to, just never thought you’d be in this mess too.” Now that he thought more about it, he hadn’t seen his neighbor ghost for a few weeks before he himself got nabbed. He really should have paid more attention to what was going on around him.

“Yes, terrible business this. Didn’t even see it coming!” he complained with a dramatic wave of his arm. “One minute I was flying around an old art museum admiring some of the classics from my day, and the next I’m beset upon by two of these ‘agents’ and fleeing for my life! Flew right to the school - only place I thought I’d be safe what with Phantom spending all his time there when he’s a human. Thought I’d be safer caught by him than–”

“Perce, would ya can it?” Hawshaw ordered as he placed a hand over the other ghosts’ blabbering mouth. 

The portly ghost immediately pushed him aside, looking affronted and insulted that the other ghost would put hands on him. “I dare say, what is the meaning of this?”

“Stop for a minute and think about what you’re sayin’ will ya? You can’t go blabbin’ that in a joint like this!” he scolded in a harsh whisper, but he knew it was pointless. He knew their captors could hear everything they said, even the whispers. “You think they let us flap our lips for our own good? No, they let us talk so they can listen. That’s why they’re always putting us with new ghosts. See what we’ll spill.”

He’d made the connection before - it’s what he did after all, spent his whole life making connections and now he just kept making them in death - and he just assumed everyone else saw the same. Or at least saw enough to know not to go breaking one of the unwritten rules of the Ghost Zone in front of their captors. He didn’t know when everyone had collectively agreed not to blab that Phantom kid’s secret to the living, but they learned what happened when anyone’s loose lips talked a little too much about Plasmius and decided to not take the chance. Those halfas were dangerous business.

Perce’s eyes slowly widened with horrified understanding. “Oh…oh no. Oh dear me. Oh Hawkshaw you know I’ve never been good at keeping quiet on things. I do enjoy hearing the sound of my voice you see, and I’m afraid that I might have…”

Hawkshaw let Perce prattle on behind him about other secrets he may have divulged as he looked towards the agents stationed in their room. Sure enough, those eager beavers looked more alive than he’d ever seen them. One of them didn’t even notice he had a wrinkle on his pristine white coat. So they not only heard Perce spill his guts, but they knew what it meant too. Just like him, they could make connections.

“Poor kid,” he sighed under his breath. He just had to hope he wouldn’t end up seeing Phantom in one of his upcoming rotations. He wanted to think they wouldn’t do this to someone who was half-human, but judging how they’d been treated…well he just didn’t know anymore…

~*~

The entire day at school Danny had a feeling he should have called out sick. He really couldn’t afford to call out given how often he ditched because of ghost attacks, and he probably would have had a worse experience enduring his parents’ homemade “cures” for being sick, but he just had a feeling that the school was the last place he needed to be today.

Maybe that feeling of doom would go away after the history test he didn’t study for? Nope, it was still there, even after he bombed the test.

Maybe it would go away after gym class where he had to play tag football with actual football players? No, that actually ended up to be pretty fun because he kept turning his flag intangible.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t read Crime and Punishment and didn’t feel like spending another day talking about a book he hadn’t even opened and pretending to care? Well since he was currently in his English class, that had to be it.

“That’s an interesting theory Ms. Sanchez, though I don’t think Dostoevsky really thought about how his novel would impact his Instagram followers back in the eighteen-hundreds,” Lancer said patiently while Sam rolled her eyes. “Now to pivot the conversation a bit, Raskolnikov believes that he is acting for the betterment of society by murdering this woman. Do you think he truly is putting the needs of the many over the needs of the few? Or is he perhaps using it as a mask to justify his own personal ambition?”

Sam very eagerly raised her hand in the air, as she had many times throughout their discussion of this book. “What, I like Dostoevsky’s bleak look on humanity,” she would constantly assert. Danny and Tucker were both hoping she’d use her personal enjoyment of this book to help them write their final essays later.

Lancer gestured towards Sam, but before she could share her thoughts with the classroom the door opened. Principal Ishiyama stepped inside, her face drawn and solemn. Two men in pristine white suits stepped into the classroom behind her and immediately took up flanking positions on either side of the desk.

Panic clutched at Danny’s heart, forcing it to somehow stop and beat faster all at the same time. His breath caught in his lungs as blood pounded through his head. 

The Guys in White. Here, at his school. Interrupting their class. His class.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to school today. He knew he should have trusted that gut instinct to stay home. It wasn’t anything as banal as a test or a football game or a book - it was a warning his very life could be in danger.

“Class, these are Agents K and O. They have an important announcement from the government,” Principal Ishiyama introduced, and somewhere behind all the panic in his now hyper-aware state, Danny noted that she didn’t seem too pleased with the interruption to the school’s daily activities.

One of the agents stepped forward and cleared his throat. The fluorescent lights shone off his perfectly shaved head. Immediately Danny recognized both of them as the two agents he consistently dealt with. He’d been unfortunate enough to see a few of them over his time as a ghost, but these two seemed to be assigned to him personally. Even if they could be occasionally incompetent, they knew his moves and knew more about him than he cared to admit, and that made them even more dangerous.

“We are from the Ghost Investigation Ward,” Agent K announced. His crisp, monotone voice sent a shiver up Danny’s spine. “We have been tasked with monitoring the activity of an entity colloquially referred to as Phantom.”

The mention of the ghostly superhero that most of the class idolized generated whispers around the room. Agent O raised a hand and immediately the chatter ceased. “We know that some of you have been mistakenly rooting for this ghost, so we need to set the record straight.”

“You think he’s been saving you from the other ghosts,” Agent K added. 

“But that couldn’t be further from the truth. We have evidence that he has been coordinating these attacks to look the hero.” Agent O grabbed a device and Danny immediately flinched because he assumed this had to be some kind of weapon. But instead it projected an image onto the white board behind them. The slideshow of pictures showcased Phantom talking to various ghosts from his rogue’s gallery. 

He knew the GiW watched him, and he knew people took photos of him and put them up on the socials, but he never really paid attention to how bad some of his conversations with the ghosts could look without context. Sometimes he would just chat with them before they fought! Or he’d try to convince them nicely to leave. He’d even built up an uneasy truce over the years with some of them and didn’t have to be as outwardly antagonistic anymore. But these perfectly chosen and curated photos told a story, one that made him look very bad, and from the murmurs of some people in the class, some of them bought it. 

“Oye, you don’t expect us to believe you right?” Paulina spoke up, and Danny’s spirits lifted slightly. At least he could always count on Paulina to have his back. Well, Phantom’s back at least. She’d throw Danny to the wolves in a heartbeat. “I mean, that’s my picture from my Insta!” she accused as she pointed at the most recent picture on the whiteboard. “I took that right before they started fighting!”

“They were probably talking about how to stage the fight,” Agent K shot back. 

Danny could feel Sam roll her eyes from beside him, and normally he would have joined her if not for the terror that still gripped his heart.

Agent O straightened out his broad shoulders and squared up with the class. “This ghost is dangerous. He has hurt people, just like other ghosts.” Images flashed up onto the board of Phantom’s attacks against the Mayor and townspeople from the overshadowing incident (that he still could never live down). 

“He has destroyed buildings, and streets, and government property, just like other ghosts.” More images flashed across the white board of Phantom shooting ecto-blasts into buildings (a ghost had just been there a moment before) or Phantom throwing a ghost into the ground (he didn’t think he’d thrown them hard enough to crack the pavement). “I know none of you understand taxes yet, but your parents are paying tons of money to fix the city in the wake of his destruction.” 

Each image stabbed Danny through the heart and twisted the metaphorical blade further and further inside. He’d grown used to the constant slander against his name from his parents, but somehow this felt even worse because he knew he couldn’t speak up. Even his classmates’ dissents had grown quieter.

“Even if you still want to argue that he’s not a ghostly mastermind, then you have to acknowledge his presence in this town is drawing ghosts of increasing power just to challenge him,” Agent K added. “His presence doesn’t protect you: it endangers you.”

Danny’s gut twisted as his gaze fell down to his lap. He didn’t even want to register the murmurs of his classmates, because as much as he hated to admit it, they were right. He had inadvertently destroyed parts the town in his quest to keep it safe. And even if he tried to justify that the town would be in worse shape if he let the ghosts do what they want, he still couldn’t argue with the damage. It’s why he tried not to revisit the sites of his previous ghost fights unless he absolutely had to. And as for drawing more powerful enemies…well that was also unfortunately true. More powerful and ancient ghosts kept coming out of the woodwork and he doubted they had any real interest in Amity Park aside from the fact that he lived here. 

Feeling like they’d finally gotten somewhere, the agents’ generally impassive postures and facial expressions broadened in confidence. “And we have reason to believe that Phantom has grown even more dangerous.”

That caught Danny’s attention and pulled him out of his self-loathing. He looked back up at the agents with curiosity and worry. Whatever they had to say, whatever they had learned…it could not be good.

Agent K cleared his throat dramatically. “We don’t know how this is possible, but we have learned that Phantom is not a full ghost.”

Danny’s heart stopped for so long he could swear he’d transformed. No…no they couldn’t know that. How could they know that? He was just mishearing them right? They couldn’t possibly mean–

“He has a human persona, and that persona attends Casper High.”

The collective gasp echoed through the silent room. Students looked around the room at their friends to confirm what they heard, because surely they must have heard wrong. Phantom? Here? Posing as one of them? The shocked quiet quickly grew into excited chatter as they tried to guess who the agents might be referring to. 

Only three students refrained from the excited chatter; Sam and Tucker cast sideways glances at Danny, who simply stared straight ahead, white as a sheet and seemingly frozen.

Agent O cleared his throat again. “We don’t know what grade he’s in, but we know he…”

Whatever else they said, Danny didn’t hear any of it. Their voices faded into a muted mumble in the background, replaced by an oppressive silence and a loud ringing that drowned everything else out. His hands trembled beneath his desk and sweat beaded down the back of his burning neck because the room had suddenly become too warm and too cold at the same time. 

His core spasmed, sending warning shocks that he needed to leave, that he needed to disappear, that he was in danger. He needed to run, flee, hide, disappear, something - but he couldn’t. He was stuck. If they knew Phantom was human…then they were watching him. They were watching everyone. He couldn’t afford to make a single suspicious move. So even though he still couldn’t hear anything except the blood pounding in his ears, and even though he was sure he was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, he summoned all the courage he could find in the very depths of his being and finally turned to look at other students in the room, to play his part in the act as convincingly as he could.

“I’m sure you can understand how this malevolent ghost’s existence in the school is a hidden danger to all of you.” Agent K’s voice still sounded like he was underwater, but he could at least pick out words now. “We will do our part to help find and catch Phantom so you can all learn again in safety.”

“But we could also use your help,” Agent O added, and that started up the whispers again. “You’re around your fellow students more and you will see more suspicious behavior. So if you see something, say something.”

“If someone does something strange or unexplainable,” Agent K offered as he ticked off a list on his fingers.

“If someone is often seen around ghosts,” Agent O added with another tick.

“Someone who has always been pro-Phantom.”

“Someone who is missing during ghost attacks.”

“Someone who sets you on edge when you’re around them.”

“Or someone who just feels…suspicious.”

Agent K dropped his hands and clasped them stoically behind his back. “You should report any of that to us. We will be a constant presence here and will welcome any student who wants to come forward with information.”

In his paranoia Danny could swear he felt the eyes of every student on the back of his head, but when he chanced to look around the room, he noticed everyone else was also looking at every other potential suspect. It gave him a temporary relief from the panic that seemed to be building to such heights that he thought he would explode from it, but it wasn’t much. Because he had done all of those things in front of many members in this classroom, and if any of them really focused on their memories or God help him actually talked to each other, they’d put this together pretty quick. They may not have their eyes on him right now, but given enough time to think about it, someone would make the connection.

“And if your information or even an accusation leads to the identification of Phantom, then we have been approved to give a reward of five thousand dollars.” Agent O let that offer hang dramatically in the air. Danny watched the eyes of everyone else in the room grow large. Five thousand dollars was a lot for anyone, but for a teenager it was a huge sum. There was no way he could compete with that kind of money being thrown around.

“Plus, if you have any other special requests, we have strings we can pull to make them happen,” Agent K proposed. “Sport scholarship to your choice college? We can make that happen.”

“Ivy league acceptance? Done,” Agent O promised.

“Influencer status on social media? Done.”

“Better healthcare coverage for you or a family member? Done.”

“Um I’m sorry, how can you promise all of this?” Sam spoke up, her skepticism and derision clear as she stared them down.

Danny’s first gut instinct was to yell at Sam to keep quiet or to step on her foot or something to keep her from drawing attention to herself. The last thing they needed was for the GiW to look in their direction. But then he also realized that the rest of the students would expect Sam to argue about these points given how vocal she usually was about certain government programs; she was still trying to convincingly play her part too.

“Because we’re the government,” Agent K answered simply.

“So you basically want us to rat out one of our own,” another student piped up, clearly emboldened by Sam’s criticism.

“I want you to do what’s best for the good of society and for the good of your own safety,” Agent O responded without missing a beat.

“And it’s not ‘one of your own,’” Agent K added. “It’s a ghost masquerading as one of you. It doesn’t belong here.”

“What will happen to the student?” Kwan asked.

“We will have to detain them for the security and safety of the town, but as agents of the government we would never hurt a citizen of this great country without cause,” Agent O assured them. 

He must have practiced that lie long and hard in front of the other agents, because he sounded genuine, but Danny knew he was lying. He’d known for a long time that if the GiW ever caught him, they would treat him as inhumanely as they treat every other ghost at their facility. Solitary confinement, experiments, torture - he never expected anything better from these soulless husks in deceptively white suits.

“Now, having said all of this, if Phantom would like to turn himself in at this time as a gesture of good faith, we will take that into account when determining sentencing, and we will extend those rewards and promises to a person of your choosing,” Agent K offered.

Danny almost laughed at the ridiculous offer. Good faith? Take it into account? They wouldn’t do anything of the sort. 

“Didn’t think that would work,” he shrugged as he turned to his partner. “Let’s go, we still have three other classrooms to hit this period. You know where to find us.”

The two agents turned in unison and strode out of the room with the principal following after them. As soon as the door shut the classroom erupted in chatter. It was hard to pick out the general feel of the other students: excitement at the reward, protection over one of their own, curiosity over who it could be - it all felt so jumbled around him when he was still just trying to focus on breathing. The oppressive weight of the agents’ presence lifted once they left the room, but it hadn’t vanished. Knowing they were still in the school, still nearby, held his heart in a vice. Maybe the pressure lessened, but it still wasn’t free. 

He finally felt like he could look at Tucker and Sam safely, and the same level of nervous concern reflected back in their faces. Sam tried to give him a reassuring nod, but it felt hollow and forced. Maybe he’d be more responsive to a classic Team Phantom “we can handle anything” talk later, but right now he felt too overwhelmed to even begin to think about how they could handle this. 

He wanted to flee, but it would look too suspicious. He wanted to sleep, but he didn’t dare close his eyes. He wanted to go home, but he didn’t expect to find any peace there once his parents heard about this. And a tiny, overwhelmed, exhausted part of him rose out of the dark in his mind and wanted to give up and turn himself in, but he was more scared than tired to think further on that option. He didn’t really know what more he could do other than just stare ahead numbly at he white board. 

“Okay people, I’m not letting this fool’s hunt take up any more of my time today!” Lancer yelled over the class. Some of the chatter died down, but a lot of it didn’t. “Now we are going to keep talking about Crime and Punishment, and if I hear any chatter from any of you about Phantom, I’m going to assign you an essay a chapter until this unit is over,” he threatened. 

That seemed to stop the whispers as the room plunged into absolute silence. “There, that’s better. I should use that threat more often,” Lancer mused under his breath. “Now, given everything we just heard, you really should pay attention to this discussion, because Dostoevsky has some pretty apropos thoughts about choosing your own satisfaction at the cost of another’s…”

Danny would love to listen to reasons why every student in the room maybe wouldn’t immediately turn him in, but he just couldn’t focus on anything else while the throes of panic still held tight. Did they just expect him to pay attention in class like nothing happened? To comment on a book he hadn’t read and pretend that the carefully maintained Jenga tower of his life wasn’t teetering on one small block at the base that could give out any moment? And now every single student in the school had a chance to take a crack at knocking that last remaining brick aside and he was left with no more blocks or prayers or hopes that it could stay up. That tower would fall, and everything would be over, and he had no idea how he was supposed to just live his life until that inevitable collapse.

Except…he had to pretend to live his life. If he showed that this threat freaked him out more than any other student, he’d be found out. If he struggled more now than he did before, he’d be found out. Maybe the tower would topple in the end, but the longer he could push it off…maybe he could find some way around it. Postponing his discovery as long as possible was his only chance at figuring something out. He just…had to pretend nothing was wrong. Live life like he wasn’t hiding some half-ghost secret. And if a ghost attacked…well he’d figure it out. Meanwhile he just had to divert attention and rumors away from himself for as long as he could. Easier said than done.

He took deep calming breaths and tried to focus not so much on Lancer’s words, but at least on the tone of his voice. He used that familiar voice to ground himself. He had to calm down enough to walk out of this class without catching anyone’s attention. If he could do that, he’d consider it his first victory. He just had to calm down.

But no matter what he did, he still couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. 

[tanadrin]

if you make an exaggerated schlurping noise while your cat is licking themselves they will look at you like you have three heads. it's very funny. i recommend giving it a try.

[arctic-reptile]

currently lying in bed with my cats while i wait to go to work with the fan going and erosio playing in the other room and it's so pleasant and peaceful but every 30 seconds one of the cats makes the most horrific schlurping noise and it's destroying me

[fartibaba-real-saw-jeffeptsien]

watching a movie with my friends and its really hot but its pretty good cuz we gonna get pizza in like half an hour and I am on my computer doing homework but not really cuz I'm on tumblr and we were watching inception but we got bored so we now watching eric andre and then we stopped it to take a break cuz its hot but another friend came with a fan and now its slightly cooler but its still really hot I mean why do some times of the year be hot like omg can we get some air conditioning like come on well anyway tumbler is fun cuz I can do whatever and booba in my dms I wonder if shes single but idk I have negative rizz PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE so we gonna watch bonesaw its a really good movie with lots of plot welp now the tv went into sleep mode and eric andre isn't on anymore wow I really need to do my homework also my mouse sounds like a space blaster and the door to the room is open to try to cool it off but its not working the fan is helping a little tho idk my nicotine tastes good but it makes me sad welp my name is john kramer and I live at 204 negra arroyo lane albequrque new Mexico and yup that's my real address pls come sent pizza cats are really cool I like them they make funny sounds like meow and mrrp and stuff like that dogs are dumb they don't make funny sounds except boof and stuff like that welp actually it got a little cooler for a split second damn tumblr wheres the character limit my god this is taking forever my Grammarly is begging me to stop also my fingers are starting to hurt a little bit more i mean prolly my arthritis i mean like soup that gives you arthritis and stuff like that also there is the beach that makes your dick fall off and start talking to you that's a line from a movie we watched a while ago this guys dick falls off cuz he took the pill that gives you cancer and his dick fell off and started talking to him anyway guys this is my fanfiction I wrote it myself its about the gay love between lucario and john kramer from saw so it all begins in the woods where john is walking his brain tunmor and he hears something in the woods and he goes and follows the noises and its lucario he is stuck in the tree and john is like omg no way lucario and lucario is like lucario so john helps him get out of the tree but lucario falls down and hits his arm with a loud thud and hes like omg jiksaw no way i love your show and john is like omg tysm and lucario is like what can i ever do to repay you for letting me out of this tree and john is like idk so lucario pulls down johns pants and says i just thought of something and johns old man cock is all flopsy and his pubes are like an old asian man wiht a long beard and lucario sucks off john and john is like ooo ooo aa aaa feels so good and lucario is like schlurp schlurp and john cums but its all dust because hes old and all old men cum dust and john is now in the mood so he turns around and says to lucario to take him so lucario gets hard he has a 9inch red rocket cock and he puts it in john but its not very tight because hes old so it kinda just goes in really easy and lucario is thrusting in and out of john and its really hot and john has a backwards baseball cap on and lucario knots him and john does an aheago face and lucario fills up john with cum and makes his stomach bulge so a few minutes later the knot comes out and john passes out cuz he eepy and lucario smirks and is like thats why they call me the steamroller and phases into nothingness like he was never even there john still waits to this day for lucario to come back but he doesnt know if he ever will so that was my fanfiction guys i hope you like it it took me a few months to write in betwwen my classes so yeah pls like and subscribe also its still hot as fuck in this room but the fan is helping a little bit ok according to google i have only a few hundred more characters left so i will leave you with the wordle answers for the next few days i know them cuz my dad works at the york times and knows all the wordle answers so here you guys go the worlde answers for the next days are

[monsterfloofs]

(Not sure if these slimes will become the sentient goo being I mentioned in my rambles, but this was a cute short story and it brought me a lot of joy to write xD )

You had to admit, you had a soft spot for slimes. The bobbling rounded dewdrop creatures struck you as cute. As a young adventurer they had been daunting creatures, but as you traveled and became seasoned the less of a threat they became. However you recall even when first starting out, the jelly-like beings didn't make you feel as nervous as other more formidable creatures you knew you were going to come across along the road.

You could never really take them seriously, they wibbled and wobbled, shuffled, rolled and bounced around. Now as their attacks felt merely like burning bee stings, the antics were mostly viewed as endearing.

On the outskirts of a quaint village, right beside a sprinkling of trees that melded into a dense forest. You open up your satchel, flipping it upside down and shaking the bag until a blue jiggling mass falls out and bounces into the grass. You stoop to a crouch next to the small translucent creature, watching it ripple and undulate with the last vibrations from its fall. It's wobbling, slowing down until it rests benignly on the earth. Your hands resting on your knees.

"There you go lil buddy, back to where you belong. I still don't know how you managed to sneak into town to begin with, but I am glad you didn't end up getting trampled."

The little blue creature doesn't make any signs that it acknowledges your words, nor does it move to attack you. Simply laying by your feet, not showing any signs of stirring. You smile, thrusting a hand into your inner coat pocket and pulling out a cloth package. Slowly peeling back the fabric layers to expose a pastry you had been saving to eat later that evening. You pinch the sweet between your thumb and forefinger, careful not to touch the gooey thin film of the slime's surface, you place the treat on the top of its domed body.

"There you go. A snack for your trip."

You watch with curiosity as its skin around the pastry begins to soften, a little sucking popping sound as the treat is pulled into its nucleus and engulfed. You stand at the sound, your eyes lingering on the little creature a moment more before you turn your heels back towards the tiny town with soft yellow lights just beginning to flicker in dark windows.

The tiny slime sits, feeling your presence ebb away. A tiny gush of noise as it slurps at the pastry in its round body. It begins to ripple, then, with a determined bounce, it hops after you. Traveling a safe enough distance behind you that it remains unnoticed.

You find yourself running into this situation more and more. Once they started cropping up, they were everywhere.

"What am I, a slime whisperer?" You mumbled grumpily before raising your voice. "Hey– HEY, that's my boot!" You grapple with a peachy pink blob, pulling at your leather shoe until it dislodges with a mighty blorp! You fall backwards, grabbing a towel and trying to dab at the sticky liquids before it starts to seep into the leather and begin to digest the material.

"Comeon now, really?"

You blink as you feel another one of the blobbular beings snuggle up to you, and you freeze. Looking down at the mint green undulating mass. You hesitantly watch it, looking for signs of it trying to eat your coat before you carefully pat it with your hand. Giving the surface membrane a light smacking that makes the creature wobble like jelly on a tray. A happy sound between a chirp and a schlurp coming from it.

You realized as more started to follow you around and pester you, that the little dew drops had conscious control between how their skin acted between eating and resting. A thin clear membrane, stretching over the body of the creature was malleable enough to let foods in and stop foreign objects from getting inside them, or corroding away in water. Which was a good thing, or else you would have gained more burns than you would have liked from dealing with your new persistent entourage.

"I'm never going to be let into a respectable town again," You let yourself moan, putting on a spare pair of shoes, and then, remembering you recently wrestled a boot away from one of the blobs, you stand up and put them into a high crook of a tree, so they can dry without running the risk of being absorbed.

"Let's see," You turn around, pointing at the little creatures. "One, two. . . oh boy, where did Blue go?" The mint slime nudges at your heels from attention while the pink trundles up to the tree.

"Don't even think about it, you don't even have eyes and I know what you're looking at."

The pink one boggles at you, in response you crease your face into a comical frown and shake your head at them disapprovingly. Yes try as you might, they learned the pink one is a glutton compared to the other two, like a curious teething puppy. Well, if a puppy was a pink loaf made out of acidic goo, that is. The simile still stood strong in any case, if something appeared edible, the pink one had to try consuming it. If you weren't fast enough to catch it in the act, you had to sulkily watch whatever it had scarfed down slowly corrode away into nothingness.

"To think," You muttered in frustration, of all the monsters I could have babysit, it had to be things made out of acid. . . good grief. Yet, despite your grumblings you moved to pick up the mint slime, and it wibbled and sloshed back and forth. Pushing its form up and down like a happy sentient water puddle.

[staysaneathome]

The Lonely Boy

(A second part to the Entity-swap WIP, where the swap is the places the Entities hold in the world rather than the people who serve them) Jon is cold, and tired, and hungry.

But he’d rather be all of those things than back in The Collection.

He stays away from libraries, from universities and schools, from police stations and research institutes, from everywhere that has learning and investigating and knowing. They call to him, sing to his mind with the promise of knowledge and answers, and that’s how he knows they’ll betray him.

That’s where the man found him the first time, after all.

He compromises with large bookstores and cafes, places of learning that have become diluted over the years with the need to turn a profit, making them safer for him while still making the pouding, watching thing in his head go quieter. Plus the staff usually derive more satisfaction from letting him sleep outside of their places of work and sneaking him food and water on the sly than in turning him over to the management that treats them so poorly.

He learns quickly that he’s in London, capital city of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

It’s something of a blessing to be left in a city this size.

That when he gives in and guiltily Asks someone the Right Question to satisfy his cravings for stories, he can disappear back into the crowd much more easily than he could back in Bournemouth, or in some of the tiny villages down south or up north The Collection passed through.

Nobody really looks twice at another kid left alone and homeless in this place.

He learns quickly that he’s not alone here.

He goes into the house because it’s pouring and he’s soaked to the skin. It takes him far longer than it should to realize that the wet schlurp schlurp schlurp noise is coming from the inside rather than outside.

The Hive wears a red dress and smiles at him when he screams at the sight of her.  But she stops smiling very quickly once he Asks, “Where did you first hear the Song?”

She tells him, each word torn from her lips, exposing her essence to him, filling in a way none of his other meals have been before. He’s so transfixed, he doesn’t notice her attempt to bring him down with her. He’s lucky, really, that the silver worms could only get to his leg before she collapsed, unmoving and pale, and that there were so many sharp things left around the discarded house.

He’s more careful after that, limping on the leg that the Watcher told him how to bandage properly.

Not long after his first ill-fated encounter with servants of other fears, he finds another one.

Jon’s looking for a place to spend the day so nosy people like irritable old people and police officers won’t ask him why he’s not in school. It’s most difficult to do now it’s late autumn, when most other children are safely sequestered away in various schools. Luckily London has a tendency to attract school field trips, so if Jon just hovers around the edges, most people assume he’s part of that other, larger group of screaming children even if he isn’t in uniform and are more likely to overlook him that way. He’s just found one such group in a large park that he can use as protective coloration, content to much on the contents of an unopened packet of prawn cocktail crisps someone threw away as the kids on this school trip gorge themselves from colorful lunchboxes and chase each other around the playground they’re too old for.

It’s then that he spots him.

There’s a boy in the playground.  He’s round and soft-looking and see-through, wearing the same uniform as the others. He’s picking at the splinters on the balance beams he’s sitting on. Thin fog wisps around his ankles.

His eyes are very large and liquid as his head suddenly whips around and he stares up at Jon, blink-blink-blinking like he’s gazing at the sun.

He’s obviously a servant of the Forsaken, but unlike the Hive he doesn’t seem like he’s about to hurt Jon for seeing him. He’s still feeling full from the stories he pulled from a man who stank of alcohol last night, so he’ll hold off on Asking anything for now. He tentatively nods his head to the soft-looking boy. “Hello,” He mutters through a mouthful of crisps.

“You’re very pretty.” The boy tells Jon, almost absent-mindedly. Then his mouth snaps shut and he goes ridged like he’s stuck his finger in a power socket. He’s got a bit more color to him now, like he’s been brought into focus.

Jon stares at him. Stares down at his mismash of clothing pulled from bins. Then back at the boy. “No I’m not. Are your eyes working?”

The boy sputters, high-pitched. “Wh-I-um, um? I-I, I think so?”

Jon shoves another handful of crisps into his mouth. “What’s the best animal?”

”U-uh,” The boy stutters, twisting his fingers together. “I-I don’t know? I, I like fluffy ones, like there was a nice spaniel I met earlier that made friends with me, and, and some kinds of spiders can be very cute and fluffy, did you know, like tarantulas?”

Jon doesn’t disguise his shudder. Obviously this boy has something wrong with his tastes if he thinks things like spiderscan be cute and things like Jon can be pretty. “Cats are the best animal, obviously.”

”O-oh.” The boy says timidly. “W-well, I like cats. Too. Um. Sorry. Who are you? Are you here with your parents?”

He curls in around his crisps, feeling uncomfortably small. “No. They died when I was small. I’m on my own now.”

“I-I’m sorry.” The boy gets up from the balance beam and drifts closer, fog faintly eddying around his heels. “My dad left, a while ago now. So it’s just me and my mum. But she’s not well, and I dunno what I’d do if she—if she—” He takes in a deep breath, shakes his head like a dog shaking off water, and sticks a hand out. “A-anyway. My name’s Martin. Martin Blackwood. Nice to meet you.”

Jon eyes the hand, then wipes off one of his own on his too-big, stained trousers. Martin Blackwood is warmer than he expected, but cooler than a normal human should be. Maybe the Forsaken doesn’t have as tight a grip on him yet?

”Jonathan Sims.” He recites mechanically, a little rusty with introductions. Then, desperate to break the awkward silence and cover up his discomfort, Jon does the worst possible thing he could do. He Asks a Question.

“Why is the Forsaken attached to you?”

And he stares in horror as Martin’s large, liquid eyes go soft and unfocused. “There were all these adults in for this careers day thing, at my school, like firemen and lawyers and things. And one of them was this tall ship captain, like out of a storybook. And he kept talking about his ship and how even if his crew had nobody on land, they could enjoy hard work alone out on the waves, and it felt like he kept looking at me while he said it, and—”

”Stop.” Jon clamps his hands over Martin’s mouth, pretending he doesn’t feel the Watcher’s flare of anger as Martin’s eyes come back into focus and he tenses up. “I-I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean to, I—”

”Di-did you do that?” Martin breathes. “H-How did you do that? That was amazing, it, it was like I was right there…” He’s fully solid now, like someone has turned the colors on him all the way up. He has very nice colors.

“It’s not.” Jon mutters, sourly. “The Watcher lets me pull stories out of people, to, to feed it. Like how the Forsaken makes you go invisible—“

”I can go invisible?!” Martin all but yells, covering his mouth when several other kids look over and snicker.

”Yeah?” Jon raises an eyebrow. “It’s the entity of the fear of being alone. Didn’t you notice the fog and people ignoring you?” ”Lots of people ignore me anyway.” Martin says, far too matter-of-fact for comfort, and gaze fixated on the fog around his feet. He leans down and drags his hands through it, giggling as it swirls away from him. “It’s kinda tickly?”

Jon opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted as his stomach growls loudly.

Jon looks down at where his prawn crisps fell in his rush to stop Martin and mourns. He’d been looking forward to finishing those… ”U-um. You can have half of my sandwich, if, if you want it.” Martin says, pulling a squashed, cling-wrapped object that the Watcher tells him contains cheese and bread within. “And you can tell me more about these fear things?”

They end up talking so long, Martin’s teacher has to come over to shout at him that it’s time for the school trip to leave.  She looks suspiciously at Jon, so he quickly makes himself scarce as Martin scrambles over to where all of his classmates are lines up in disorderly rows.

Jon hides behind a tree and watches Martin’s school trip leave the park.

Martin Blackwood sticks near the back of the class, even as some other kids keep pushing him every time he slows. When he spots Jon, he smiles widely, and waves his hand. Like Jon’s a friend of his, or something.

Against all logic, Jon tentatively waves back.

Martin can’t come into London often, of course. He lives too far away, up north, and he and his mum aren’t the richest people in the world, from what Jon will later gather. Train rides are a luxury that it’s pushing it to afford, and he’s got to take care of his mum into the bargain.  And it’s not like he can send Jon emails or text messages or letters, given that Jon has very limited access to electronics and no address to send post to.

But somehow, against all odds (and likely using the Forsaken more than is probably healthy), Martin does make the trip down to see Jon, always waiting for him in that playground where they first met.

And Jon gets used to dropping by the park several times a week, just in case Martin’s there.

[inkstaineddove]

Man as Mirror

Ships: PruAus if you wish; background PruHun and FraAus

Characters: Roderich, Gilbert; mentioned Erzsi + Francis

Summary: Arriving home early from Paris, Roderich encounters a shirtless Gilbert in his kitchen, leading them to have a conversation Roderich could've gone without.

Vienna, 1774.

Once his carriage safely rolled to a stop, Austria stepped out of it and stretched. While even he could not deny the beauty of Paris, nothing pleased the heart quite like home. Servants rushed about him, ushering in his extensive luggage. Sidestepping away from them, he gazed up at the early-morning sky and allowed himself the luxury of taking it all in. The fading purple of night, the sun shyly poking its face out through his hedges, and the birds singing their daily hymns. Truly, there was nowhere quite like home.

Feeling sufficiently uplifted, he entered the home and mindlessly made his way up the stairs. He froze once his hand hovered above the doorknob to his bedroom. He had been burned once before doing this and while, thankfully, all other parties had been asleep, the event had caused him enough mental anguish to power him through another three decades. Still, the desire to change out of his travel clothes was nigh impossible to dismiss. Leaning an ear against the door, his decision was made for him when he heard something like a moan come from Erzsébet. Changing could wait.

All remnants of his good mood dissipated as he silently grumbled to himself about their guest. While it certainly came as no surprise – Erzsébet did this every time he was out of town and, honestly, Roderich had grown to expect it – but hearing them was different. Sure, he was no fool and they made no effort to pretend but having indisputable proof of their trysts was another. Roderich was cursed to have found a spouse and enemy full of cunning. He noted that, if the two of them ever put their powers to good use, he’d have to compliment them for it. For now, while he was their target, any appreciation was out of the question.

He felt his body yearning for caffeine and knew what the next item on his agenda must be. Still lost in his thoughts, he was completely caught off guard at the sight of a bare-chested Gilbert standing over the kitchen counter. It was comical, really, watching such a brutish man delicately pour cream into two dainty mugs, mentally measuring out the right amounts. Roderich stood back and watched the whole performance in domesticity, studying the man before him as he never had before. The way his back and shoulder muscles shifted with each movement; how he never slouched even when it would be far more comfortable to; how the whole time, he never stopped humming marches to himself.

This scene felt too intimate and Roderich understood that he was not its intended audience. What he needed most from his rival now was hostility and not misguided fantasies of marital bliss. He cleared his throat and stepped into Gilbert’s line of sight. “For me? How sweet of you.” He snatched the mug closest to him and added in his usual five spoonsful of sugar. He held up a finger when he felt Gilbert gearing up to protest. “She’s still asleep. Besides, no one likes waking up to cold coffee. It sets such a tone for the day.”

They settled into a tense silence, neither one wanting to acknowledge the other. It was childish, Roderich understood, but failing to will the other out of his existence was better than devolving into petty insults or a physical altercation. And, if he ignored all rational thoughts, he didn’t even care. When around each other, what else were they but ancient children? There was no reason for them to speak, why invent one?

“Paris again? How many times have you been there over the last three months?” There almost appeared to be a hint of affectionate teasing in Gilbert’s words.

Roderich turned to face him and was surprised to find Gilbert already observing him with mild interest. What a strange morning, one he wished he could find some escape in by returning to bed but felt certain would provide him with no real escape. If anything, the pair would wake him up and demand he leave his own damn bed for another room, that’s how selfish they were. Against his will, he felt himself noticing the strength in Gilbert’s body, all broad shoulders and muscle, the physique of the ideal warrior. All suddenly clicked on why Roderich always found himself flat on his ass whenever they’d begin to trade blows. His arrogance had blinded him to the fact that imperial power mattered little when they weren’t trying to kill each other on the battlefield. With biceps like that, his only chance to get the upper hand would be a swift kick to the groin, which even at his worst he was too principled to resort to.

He was brought back to reality when Gilbert began snapping his fingers in his face. “Jesus, has anyone ever told you how creepy that staring thing you do is? Like you were trying to undress me with your eyes.” He straightened up and shivered. “Commission a portrait, it’ll last longer.”

“Please, don’t be so crass. This,” Roderich flippantly pointed to Gilbert’s outfit, “is already enough. If I imagined you in any less, I’d be ill for at least a month.”

Gilbert smirked as he took a sip. “Funny, most people have the opposite reaction.” He leaned his hips back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how much more stalling can you do? What’s kept you in Paris so much? I don’t recall most treaties taking that much time to…hammer out.” He bit his lip, trying to suppress his snickering.

“It’s rude to talk work at breakfast.” Austria couldn’t be bothered to mask his irritation. Things such as ‘politeness’ and ‘civility’ always seemed to go to waste on Prussia. “And, if you’re fishing for what’s in our agreement, you’ll have no such luck from me. You’re wasting your time.”

“You think I give a damn about what’s on a fucking piece of paper? As if I’d be wasting my time on that. I don’t know who blabs more for the right price, your officials or France’s.” Gilbert’s demeanor was too casual. “Most of the time, we don’t have to go to those damn meetings anyways. We’re little more than decorations, the bureaucrats have everything written before they even breathe a word to us. We know that, they know that. There are always ulterior motives for our little business trips. Whenever I come here, I tell my current minder I’ll be off doing a diplomatic something-or-other in Vienna for a week, don’t wait up.  They buy it even though they know the real reason I come to this shrine of gaudy antiques.”

“Your point, Gilbert?”

“My point is that you’re no different. Sure, you tell everyone that you’re renegotiating this or that little detail and maybe your officials believe it. And you tell it to Erzsi, and she believes it since it’s easier than thinking the husband she loathes so much is just as miserable as her. And maybe you believe it too because you have to lie to yourself first to lie to everyone else. But you can’t fool me.”

The whole time he spoke, Roderich was staring down into the contents of his mug. When all was quiet between them was when he finally looked up, laughing. “You must be desperate if you’re begging to get a morsel of gossip on me from me.”

Gilbert scoffed. “I’m not fishing for gossip. If I was, I would’ve gone through your letters while you were gone. And, before you ask, I’ve never done that. Not for lack of trying, I’m just not good at picking locks.”

The vein behind Roderich’s left eye began pulsating. He rubbed his temple gingerly, wincing. “I think I prefer it when you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Why the annoying younger brother schtick?”

“Maybe I’m making up for lost time.” For added emphasis, Gilbert made sure to loudly schlurp down a sip. Roderich’s wince at such a noise caused him to snort some coffee out his nose. Wiping it away, he grinned. “Or maybe I just want you to stop thinking you’re any better than me. Get you when you’re unguarded.”

“There’s a glaring hole in your plan. You’ve forgotten that I would never allow myself to be so vulnerable around you, no matter what time of day it is.” He mockingly shook his head, tutting. “I understand that, for now, we’re officially getting along just fine, but don’t mistake that for camaraderie. The first chance either of us gets, we’ll be back to stabbing each other in the back for sport. It’s who we are.”

“Well, aren’t you a pessimist.”

“Hardly. I simply know our natures too well,” Roderich sighed, growing weary at this line of conversation. “So, if this is only temporary, why should I feign tolerance towards you? Quite honestly, you’re not important enough to me for that sort of performance. Even if you were, you would see right through it. No, my energy is better spent on nobler pursuits.”

Gilbert had set his mug down, now drumming his fingers on the countertop. “I’m not asking for friendship; I’m asking for honesty.” He rolled his eyes with the temperament of a teenager. “Whatever. You got me sidetracked. It’s pointless anyways; you’re too delusional.”

“Excuse me?” That was quite the accusation from an unusual source. “At this point, you may as well come right out and say it.”

“If you insist,” Gilbert’s tone lilted up, songlike and jeering. “What you won’t admit is what I started this whole conversation with. All these trips to Paris, they’re not about work or diplomacy or any of your other shitty excuses. I know and you know that the only purpose is to blow a load in Francis’ ass and get away from your miserable life.”

Roderich set his mug down gently. There was no need for it to spill, to make a mess all over the clean marble. “For a moment, I’m going to ignore the vulgar insinuation you’ve made about my relationship with Francis.” He looked up, not breaking eye contact with Gilbert. “You know nothing about my life and my contentment with it. I understand that you are a deeply unhappy and wretched creature and why shouldn’t you be? There is nothing for you to go home and boast about, no shining accomplishments of yours not bathed in the blood of an innocent people, but do not project your misery onto me. For all your crowing to the contrary, we have never been, nor will we ever be, the same.”

Gilbert scoffed. “And everything you’ve ever done, there was only glory to be found there? All the princes you absorbed into your own lands, they were willing? The Bohemians, the Hungarians, they love your rulers? Are you pretending that only Russia and I invaded Poland because I remember seeing you at the table, carving out portions for yourself.”

“I’m not so naïve to believe I haven’t picked up the sword before. And, if necessary, I would again. You’d be wise to remember that.” Roderich straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. “But I’ve achieved just as much without force as with. The home we’re currently standing is a monument to such.”

“Please. It’s a monument to other people’s power and what it can get you. We don’t impact change, we just ride the waves of it,” Gilbert sneered. “This house is a prison for all who come in it. A golden cage is still a cage, Roderich, even for the largest bird.”

Roderich sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Mixing your metaphors doesn’t make you sound wiser, I’ve told you this before.” Needing caffeine for his growing headache, he took a sip. “I assume you’re including yourself among the captives.”

“To a degree. I can leave whenever I want – as you love to point out, I do have my own house – but where would one of us be without the other two? We are the protagonists of our own tragedy.”

“I sincerely regret that old king of yours got you into theater. Next you’ll be telling me how all the world’s a stage and we are but merely players.” When Gilbert opened his mouth to comment on that, Roderich held up his hand. “That wasn’t an invitation for your Shakespearean theories!” He rubbed the bridge between his nose, his prior weariness intensifying. “Why does it matter to you so much? Why must I parade my discontent as you and Erzsébet do? If you make your life’s purpose revenge against an unjust world – there you go! I admit it’s unjust! – you are sure to become more miserable than ever before. Perhaps you should learn that before it destroys you like one of your dear tragedies.”

“It matters because you act like you’re superior to us in every way when, really, you’re no different. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” Gilbert’s voice softened with something akin to regret.

Something in his tone of voice, in his posturing, lit a fire within Roderich. His eyes hardened and he pressed his lips into a scowl. “Understanding is what you want? If it’ll get the defiling power of your pity off me, then so be it! I am better than you in every conceivable way. If I am to you but a mirror, peer close and you’ll realize it too. Where you feel trapped by the circumstances life has thrown us in, with a life that can never truly be our own, I’ve taken what you’ve failed to grasp. While you were slaughtering pagan Easterners in your little bog, I was here, accumulating wealth and power you’ve only fantasized about. I am the seat of an empire that you only have access to through Brandenburg.

“But those are meaningless things, aren’t they? Because here’s what really matters to you – the only thing, isn’t it? I’ve seen how you stare; I know that look – I’ve got what a childhood spent pining among the monks prevented you from getting. Did you ever mention it to them? How young love made that vow of celibacy torturous? How close did you come to breaking it? How many Hail Mary’s did they make you perform for every impure thought? Do you wonder what they’d think of you now, going through all this because you’re in love with your brother’s wife? Phrased just so, they would burn you at the stake again. Ah, but the hellfire is familiar, isn’t it?” Roderich glanced at the clock hanging behind Gilbert’s shoulder. “Erzsébet should be waking now. Go play domestic and bring my wife some coffee.”

Roderich forced himself away from Gilbert, who was left crestfallen with his wide eyes and gaping mouth. He had said enough, gloating would be overkill. He entered his study and locked the door. If there would be consequences for his monologue, let them come later.

The day was still new. Roderich stared out the window. Despite checking the clock, his adrenaline had made him forget the time. He approximated it was no more than nine. He began pouring himself a glass of brandy, but stopped, preferring to drink from the bottle. He gazed around the vast emptiness of the room beyond its sole occupant. He raised the bottle for a toast:

“To the prison of my own making. There is no place quite like home.”

[omegawizardposting]

I can't watch porn anime. no because I dislike porn, I love reading it in written or manga form... but the sound effects make me crack up. I know how most of them are made and they are so over the top... schlurp schlurp... sex doesn't sound that way I just end up lauging.

Honestly, it depends. Sex can be a lot noisier than most people think. I don’t think it’s generally quite as loud as most hentai, but the sound effects aren’t far off for some people.

I speak from, uh. Personal. Experience. ;;

(I mostly just like the cute noises the guys make, though~)