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faeriekit · 3 months ago

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Health and Hybrids (XXVII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Diana helps mediate. Stinky Dad and the Alien Guy observe.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny’s space-watching time is very important to him. He’s pretty sure it’s on his schedule, even.

Every few days—and even more days in a week, now that people are relatively certain that he’s not going to start hitting the medical staff—Danny gets wheeled over to the big window to stare out at the moon.

The moon hasn’t changed all that much since his first few visits, since. You know. It’s in space. Still, the stars shift in their positions, and sometimes they face Earth, and sometimes they do not, and a couple times Danny sees people flying out there, which is super neat.

Sometimes Danny sees maintenance workers out doing repairs on their buildings, too. They wave back at him when they’re not busy or carrying something, which makes Danny’s core bubble and spark with joy.

So, Danny is watching the stars twinkle in the sky with all the meditative calm his Obsession requires when something plops onto his head. It doesn’t hurt, but it does put pressure onto his neck. Ow.

Danny hisses automatically, but he already knows who it is—the quick-fast-kid-who-hasn’t-introduced-himself practically vibrates against Danny’s skin, all excited by omg/omg/misch/iefomg.

Typical. Danny wants to feign a bite, but his neck kind of hurts. He settles for grumbling. “What?”

“Dude,” the teenager says, or, uh, Danny approximates he says something kind of like dude, anyway— “Want to come see a feoht?”

Uh. “A what?” Danny asks, ignoring how the guy’s chin keeps digging into his scalp. It might be the most non-medical physical contact Danny’s had since he broke down with Diana. Maybe.

The teen backs up, and models some very quick punches into the air, making his own sound effects to match. It’s all very impressive, or whatever. Danny’s not going to applaud, though; his arms are tired.

“…Sure.” It’s not like Danny has anything better to do.

“Berstan!” the kid chirps, and—

Danny clamps down on his wheelchair wheels because holycraptheyaremoVINGFAST. His wheels aren’t on the ground—the teen is carrying him, chair and all—!

He’s going to be in so much trouble for running. Danny’s wheels touch the ground, and he drops straight to the floor. His hands shake all the way up to his elbows as he grips his wheels. He is going to be in so much trouble when the nurses look for him and he’s not there.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Here we are!” the quickfast teenager announces, grinning. They’re in a room with a big, rubberized floor. It’s basketball orange. The rest of the room is virtually indistinguishable from the cloth folding walls Casper High uses to divide the gym into smaller gyms—giant cloth panels line every surface that isn’t the floor. Walls. Ceiling.

Well. It’s certainly…sound dampening. There’s vents, though. So. At least they can breathe.

The other teenagers Danny recognizes yell out to them, cheerful as ever. One waves—the kid behind him waves back, and then they’re all clustered together, pleased and breathing heavy and slightly sweaty.

“Feel alright?” one teen asks—Danny recognizes him after a second; he usually has a leather jacket on over his brightly colored shirt. He isn’t sure what the huge S is for, but hey, it’s a cool emblem or whatever. Danny used to have his initial on his…

…Danny doesn’t want to think about that, actually. He doesn’t want to think about anything about home at all.

Oh. Someone asked him a question, and now they’re all looking at him for answers. Danny nods jerkily—something sloshes inside his skull, though, which. Ew. He scrunches his face up when everyone else starts to look worried about his expression, though; it’s no big deal! It’s just! Gross!

The boy who is very fast pats his hand before sliding to the other side of the room. There are buttons there, which he presses; the room shifts, just a little, to make a piece of the floor turn away in favor of a rack of weapons. The teenager who’s always masked, but is now in an exercise shirt, whistles approvingly, and two of the teens—whoah—start flying off to grab at the equipment available.

…There’s some cool stuff there. Danny. Danny might…

He doesn’t want to fight, per se, but. Um. Weaponry is intrinsically cool. There’s no doubt about it. Half the reason he liked to play Doomed was collecting the newest and coolest weapon to blast at all his enemies with! And Tuc—

—and—

—Tucker—

Something clicks right up in front of Danny’s face.

He flinches.

“You good?” the teenager asks, big blue eyes on him as Danny struggles to breathe. “Do you want hweorfan?”

Danny gasps around three uneasy breaths before his ears catch up. Or. Well, his ears work, but his brain doesn’t know what the teen is saying?? Danny shakes his head anyway—he doesn’t want more to happen. He wants less.

The teenager frowns. Danny immediately worries that he did something wrong. “Okay, but tell me if you change your mod.”

As soon as Danny figures out what that is? Sure. He’ll tell him.

In the meantime, the kids split up into groups; one set of two goes to one side of the gym and the other goes in the air, floating on the other si— wait, they can float??

…Danny stares, and two ostensibly human-looking teenagers take to the air, loudly teasing the two left on the ground, and, yeah. They’re flying. Danny watches as the one on the ground starts counting, ready to start their match, only to interrupt his own countdown for a sneak-attack at the start and a PIFF of a smoke bomb going off. Danny can’t see the buzzing kid disappear from sight as the air begins to thicken, but there’s a distinct taste of JOY/games/VICIOUS that flutters through him that tells Danny that, wherever he is in that smoke cloud, he’s living his best life.

And. Well.

The fighting is—there isn’t a better word for it, it’s just so damn cool. There’s kicking and punching and throwing and tossing and—sure, Danny can take a few hits and deal out some surprise punches when he has to, but these kids know what they’re doing, which is so cool, because once Danny lost the benefit of gravity mid-fight basically everything Mom had trained in him had been thrown out the window. The physics were just never right.

(And— Mom—)

Like, all the punches are happening at speeds that Danny can only kind of follow. His neck starts hurting from trying to follow them—but he can’t stop watching, and the kids are really having a blast. They’re laughing. They’re teasing. They show off, even, stopping to pose and flex and be admired by their sole observer, which Danny obliges with some gentle claps. The others are quick to jump on any distraction, though, and are more than willing to have Danny be the center of attention while they sneak up on showstoppers, stick or lasso in hand.

On one hand, Danny should probably be more alarmed by the sight of kids acting as literal child soldiers training to be combat ready. He…he’s pretty sure he’s meant to be one of them as soon as he’s recovered enough to get trained.

And…it is scary. It is kind of a scary thought that Danny might have to go back to…go back to fighting and getting hit and hitting and everything that fighting means.

On the other hand, there’s no one here. All the kids here are Danny’s age, and they’re not fighting because someone is making them; they’re having fun, and their job is to help people.

…Danny puts his legs higher up on his wheelchair, until he can wrap his arms around his knees. They’re supposed to beat up threats, but they don’t think that Danny’s a threat. They’re letting him sleep in a bed and get medical care and making sure he gets medication and everything. They let him hang out with their children and he has toys and fidgets to pass the time, and maybe he’ll have to pay them back later, but… isn’t helping out because he got helped only fair?

And they let non-humans live on Earth! That one teen’s stinky dad said that they could help Danny stay on Earth, he thinks. Or, uh, it’s what he thinks the green guy translated that as? So as long as he doesn’t leave, they could even protect him from the— all the bad stuff on Earth! So really, all Danny has to do is work on getting better. He’s safe here. Diana is here, the stinky dad is here, and there’s a whole team of super-people with super powers ready to help people.

Danny’s safe. He’s calm. He’s fine. He’s…worried that Diana doesn’t know where he is, but she’s smart and there’s probably cameras.

He watches the teens play around with various weaponry like they’re his model rocket. There’re thrown projectiles and giant hammers and dodgeballs and sticks, staves, and lassos; someone pulls out a shield, of all things, glittering gold and gleaming with something that itches at the back of Danny’s eyeball, and there’s a gun that sh—

Danny only breaks out of the memory of RUNNINGRUNNINGRUNNING when he realizes that someone is holding him. He’s choking. He doesn’t know who’s holding him, but they’re not hurting him right now and he can see a crowd of other colorful figures around him, which means he’s not with the Guys in White.

He’s hyperventilating. He can’t help it. He can’t stop it! His lungs hurt and there’s no end to the stress pressing out of his chest. Someone is holding him; where’s his chair? Did he lose it?? That’s really expensive medical equipment—they’re going to be so mad at him—!

Someone lifts him out of the stranger’s arms. It’s one of the older quick-buzzing humans. Not the teenager, and not the oldest one, he thinks. Danny can’t tell. He can’t breathe, and it’s hard to focus.

He’s shushing Danny like he’s a kid. Danny would be insulted, except he can’t breathe, and he really wants someone to help him, and his eyes are all weird and he can’t see and he doesn’t know where he is and his core hurts and his chair is gone—

Oh. The guy puts Danny’s hand on his chest and models breathing in with one big, visible breath.

Danny breathes in.

The guy models breathing out. It’s a long, slow breath.

…Danny struggles through the follow-through, but he manages. Well. He chokes hard enough to cough, twice, but…close enough.

The colorful forms milling about slowly disperse, until it’s largely just Danny, and the fast guy radiating very measured levels of calm, and his friend in black and blue, who is eating a sandwich. They breathe in, and they breathe out. That one guy eats his sandwich.

Danny looks around. He’s…the room he’s in is really big. Tables. Benches. Little stands of foo… Oh. He’s in a cafeteria. Cool.

…He squints through the new haze of green in his eyes. He’s probably strained something, but there are more important things at stake here: can he get some real food here?

“Where is here?” Danny asks. Rasps. He’s mostly horizontal, so manipulating his head around to glance at his surroundings is kind of a strain on his neck. Is that a hot dog cart?

“Wistheall,” the two say simultaneously—the guy in black and blue and a bird on his chest swallows his sandwich. “…Want a snakka?”

You know what? Danny’s going to assume that this means a snack. Sure! Why not. Nodding his head so quickly hurts, but he’s also not walking anywhere, so it’s not like it’s a full-body pain. The buzzing-quick guy sort of just…carries him around and asks Danny what he wants, and the bird guy gets it for him.

The little vibrations the guy is giving off are tinged a little with wor/ryworry/worry, but the guy’s mostly…at peace? Forcibly shoved it all down? Danny and the guy are practically chest to chest at this point, so it’s probably just that Danny’s close enough to feel even really quiet things.

His suit is super smooth, by the way. It’s not, like, skintight—there’s a little armor underneath, Danny can feel—but the fabric itself is like super slick. It’s cool. Texturally.

Also, he gives Danny a tube of something that are clearly off-brand Prongles, so Danny’s mostly just enjoying that instead of wondering what’s up with this guy and his friend.

“Are you okay?” the guy finally asks, his chatter mostly winding down into a question Danny can recognize. Danny swallows his bite of chips with a swig from his water bottle, and nods. He’s…unsettled, but he’s fine. He doesn’t know where he is, but he didn’t know where the teenagers had left him either, so this is about what he expected.

Even under his red hood-and-mask, the guy’s eyes are kind. Kinda worried. Not mean. “Something bad happened?”

…Danny looks back at his chips. Something bad happened, but it didn’t happen recently. “No,” Danny muttered around the crumbs in his mouth. He swallowed dryly. “Not…not now.”

The vibrations slow, and dim, melancholy lacing through the air. The sensation makes Danny itch. “Before?”

Danny nods. He thinks about his body melting from the outside in, his face dripping off in chunks of wet matter, his throat torn open still screaming.

“It was a—“ Danny tries, but he doesn’t actually know their word for gun or blaster. He just forces his fingers to make a familiar symbol, holding his own middle and end fingers back, leaving a shaking, uncomfortable thumb and pointer.

The quiet pew pew sound effects probably aren’t necessary, but the more detail, the better, or something like that.

Danny remembers how hot it got. Just…all the heat and light, and he could smell smoke right up until he couldn’t. And his face…everything hurt—everything still hurts, even—but the scary point had been when suddenly his face hadn’t hurt, and there was nothing left to feel.

…The guy holding him pulls Danny’s fingers away from his face. Oh. Danny was pulling at his still-green, still-healing wound. He. Uh. He doesn’t remember starting to do that anymore.

“Sorry,” Danny whispers. He swallows something wet from his sinuses to his stomach, and has to fight back the memory of a blood-and-ecto-and-flesh slurry taking its place in his esophagus as he tried to crawl away to die. Again.

The man sends out pulses of sorrysorrysorry through his skin. “Me too,” he murmurs back.

Then Danny gets hitched up—Danny squawks—and gets thrown into a better position over one shoulder, so Danny has better height to see from and a better perch in the guy’s arms. Danny drops half his prongles on the floor in the process. “Want to go find your chair?” the guy asks, body vibrating just a touch outside of Danny’s conscious awareness. Still, even without seeing the guy’s face, his whole body radiates sympathy/curiOSITy/Hungry.

…Didn’t they just eat?

Either way, Danny’s not torn between staring sadly at the ground where his prongles lay cold and bared to the cruelty of the world or getting up to go find his chair. “Yes,” he agrees, and uses the flat of his forearms to haul himself up higher onto the guy’s shoulders. Kindly, the guy in red doesn’t even budge. “Thank you.”

“Na geswincan,” the guy reports back easily, which Danny is pretty sure is a less-formal you’re welcome. Too bad there’s a whole language’s worth of context Danny’s missing out on here. His friend even snags Danny an extra can of prongles, and is kind enough to rips open the seal for him.

Nothing beats recovering from a crying jag like chips. Danny takes them earnestly.

The quick-fast guy hooks his arm onto his friend’s, and the world starts to stretch and blend into the in-between planes of reality, slices of world layered atop each other. The guy smashes through each one and pulls them both along for the ride.

It’s not quite like dunking his head in the portal, but it’s not not like sticking his head in a homemade portal either. Danny shakily pulls out a chip and starts chewing. He’ll just take the ride as it comes.

“Superboy.”

Kon winces.

“Robin.” Wonder Woman’s eyes turn to the more remorseful end of the bunch. “Wonder Girl. Impulse.”

“Wedidn’tmeanto!” Bart wails into a pillow, which. Fair. Cassie is sweating from possibly every pore she’s ever had (and maybe even a few she doesn’t??), and Tim is doing that stoic-faced thing that means he’s flipping the hell out too much to even tell his face to make expressions about it.

Kon just looks…miserable. Just absolutely miserable.

“…Triggered by firearms, maybe…?” Tim mutters under his breath, which means that he’s theorizing about their guest’s symptoms rather than coming up with solutions-oriented paths out of this confrontation and Cassie wants to shake him because this is NOT the time, Timothy Jackson Drake, except he’s kind of made of mortal human flesh and if she actually shakes him too hard he might die.

“I hope you understand how deeply irresponsible it was to take our patient out of his rooms without any form of supervision from either myself, his medical team, or an adult up to speed with our patient’s medical and psychological needs.” Wonder Woman’s voice is sharp—and her eyes are on Timmy Wonder Boy, who’s barely paying attention, making it clear that the majority of her ire is currently on him. “All four of you are being taken off of mission rosters for the next month in favor of remedial training. I hope that you are all satisfied with the decisions you made.”

“Fiiiine,” Cassie groans. Kon slumps in place. Tim nods without really looking.

Bart, still wailing at lightning speed into his pillow, continues doing…that.

#Danny: I'm gonna drop some hints to the past I am currently avoiding #Also Danny: SEVERE TRAUMA ALERT WEEWOO WEEWOO #YJ does make an I'm sorry card because they're grounded and can't visit him but also they forgot that he cannot read. So.#imagine the sloppiest card you've ever seen plus really ugly crying doodles courtesy of Bart #Danny does appreciate it. but also. wtf lol #dp x dc #health and hybrids #danny phantom #tw medical #tw body horror #tw gore #although at this point we're mostly a recovery fic #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #faer fic

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guppygiggles · 12 days ago

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Pale Blue

What: Sleepy tickles, body positivity, fluff.

Word count: 1.2k

Universe: Canon

Who: Casper and Avery

Description: It feels weird to formalize this because it's so short, but I desperately needed to write something for comfort. This is a little messy, but... so are my feelings right now, so at least it's honest. Please forgive any typos or formatting mistakes. 💙

The humidifier whispered at our bedside as I laid in big-spoon position against Avery's back, the ice crystals inside his head reflecting our nightlight in tiny flashes.

With my arm resting on his ribcage, I studied the rhythm of his breathing, trying to figure out if he was still awake. We'd been in bed for around an hour according to my phone, which I'd just checked for the eighth time. I couldn't stop thinking about the audit in which I was mired at work, plus, my shoulder hurt from poor posture all week. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep.

I rolled over, nuzzling my head into my pillow to try and get comfortable. To my surprise, Avery rolled with me, his long arms wrapping securely around my body. He enveloped me like an oversized beanbag – when I spooned him, I was more like his backpack. Avery sometimes rolled over in his sleep, but as I felt his hand move with intelligence against my hip, I spoke into the dark.

“Are you awake…?”

“Mm… no.” He did sound sleepy. That cool palm slid up my body and under the hem of my t-shirt.

I exhaled slowly. “Good, you're not supposed to be.”

“I could say the same to you.”

His fingers traced down my bare tummy. I flinched.

“Why are you so tense~?” He asked.

“Aheh…”

“Relax your belly.”

I whimpered.

“Casper, relax for me~”

I bit my lip, but did as instructed, releasing my stomach muscles with a shaky exhale. As the pudge of my belly expanded into his palm, he gently grabbed at it.

“Mm, there we go~ I love how soft you are, here…”

My legs twisted as I turned my face into the pillow, muffling giggles into it as he fondled and teased my vulnerable tummy. My hands knew better than to interfere with this ticklish evaluation.

“A-Ahavery…”

“Yesss~?”

I could hear his smile. I squirmed against the cool softness of his body.

“That…!”

“Mhmmm~?”

I tensed again, my muscles knitting together. This was met with a punishing fingertip wiggling into my navel.

“Ah, ah~ You know better. Do I need to get mean~?”

“P-pleahease…” My ears burned.

“Please…? You want me to get mean?”

Oh, no.

“No, no wahahait-!”

“Well, who am I to turn down such an invitation?”

His curious fingertips turned into a plush claw as all five digits dug into my belly. My bubbling giggles turned into a geyser of laughter I had no hope of holding back.

“WAAAhahahaha!” My legs kicked, toes curling in futility.

“If you won't relax your belly for me… I want you to at least complete your thought from earlier, please… Tell me what this does to you.”

Avery's politeness made the demand twice as scary. I grabbed a fistful of blanket; anything to help me resist grabbing his hand. I knew what was down that road.

“I c-cahahahan’t!” I whined as he continued to wiggle his fingers into me, exciting all those wickedly sensitive nerves. I could barely hear his voice beneath my laughter; low, controlled. Amused.

“You know how much meaner I could be than this~ Is that what you want?”

“Nohohoho!” His hand scampered across my tummy, lightly skittering to a new spot and then digging in again, with random breaks to gently pinch my side or hip. With every attempt to roll onto my stomach, he simply pulled me back with his gentle strength. I could feel the restrained power behind that touch; hands that could easily unrest a tree from the earth handled my human body like a priceless Fabergé egg.

“Tell me, then…”

His index finger found the crease at the top of my thigh, pressing it like a child presses a streetlight button when there's an ice cream parlor across the street and five dollars in his hand. My reaction was explosive.

“WAAHAHAHAHAA! OKAHAHAY! OKAHHAHAY~!”

The handful of blanket was damp with the sweat of my palm as the tweaking stopped. A pause heavy with expectation fell over us.

“Well…?”

“It… it…” My blush was so hot, I was sure Avery could see it in the dark.

He chuckled against my back, placing a cool, refreshing kiss on the back of my neck. I wanted more… I wanted them all over.

“Sing for me, dewdrop…”

A single tweak into that crease made me jolt and gasp.

“Fihihine! It…” I tucked my head into the pillow. “...Tickles…”

“What was that? Apologies, I'm afraid you'll have to speak up…”

I felt swift movement behind me and even before the attack, I realized that I had pushed Avery's ler rage too far. In an instant I was on my back, cushy cloud cuffs around my wrists as they rested above my head, Avery's leg like a lap bar across my thighs. His hand spidered over my torso, scribbling under my arms, my ribs, my belly. I howled with laughter, my back arching uselessly.

“OKAHAHAY IT TIHIHICKLES! IT TIHIHICKLES!!” I cried through gale after gale of deep, hopelessly honest cackling.

“Oh, it does? It tickles when I do this? Hm! Could that be because you're ticklish?” He'd adopted a casual, playful tone as he laid beside me, propping his head up with one hand as he tormented me with the other.

“YEEHEHEHEHESSS!” What good was it to resist at this point? I didn't even bother tugging at the cuffs as he used a single fingertip to wiggle into one armpit, then the other, then back to a big, ticklish claw at my belly. I just laughed and laughed, letting it all pour out unimpeded by resistance.

“Very good~! My goodness, such hair-raising laughter, all from such a small amount of stimulation…”

He lifted my night shirt up to my ribs, then went back to gently pinching and grabbing at my belly pudge, patting, squeezing, and playing with it.

“I'm sorry, I just can't get enough of this.”

“Plehehehehease stahahahap thahahahahat~!” I protested in a combination of ticklishness and embarrassment. Much as I was a huge proponent of body positivity, I wasn't exactly immune to insecurity; I'd packed on a few pounds from work stress.

“I will never understand what you humans find shameful about fat on your bodies… especially here…”

He shifted on the bed, repositioning so that he could nuzzle his cool face into my exposed middle. He kissed and cuddled, making me giggle shyly.

“So soft and warm,” he cooed, peppering me with more kisses, the last one landing on my navel.

I felt the cuffs around my wrists dissipate. I reached down, stroking the rolling curve of Avery's head, even as my belly quivered beneath his touch.

“I love tickling you,” he said. “I love loving you. All of you, just as you are.”

The corners of my eyes felt wet as he crawled back up the bed, wrapping his body possessively around mine, pulling me into him like he was an oyster and I his treasured pearl. I tucked into him, his cool arm a relief against my cheek as I rested my head on his bicep. The world disappeared around us; we were a mote of sanity glowing amidst a blackness of merciless chaos.

“I'm so tired,” I whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. Can you sleep, now?”

“I think so.” My eyes were already closed; there was very little thought involved.

It was quiet. Avery's breathing slowed.

“Avery…”

“Hm?”

“Don't let go… okay?”

He pulled me in tighter. I felt his lips on the back of my head, nuzzling my hair.

“Never. Never, ever, ever.”

#fluffylore #I really need a better tag for these than this #avery nimbus #ler!avery #lee!casper #tickle fic #tickle fluff #tickling fic #tickling fluff #casper reid #tickling #tickle

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berryless · 10 months ago

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OK, Mr Grim Stalker

Grim Reaper | Casper x Custom Female Main Character (PWP, NC-17 || 5k words || smut, fluff, dirty talk, consensual voyeurism, masturbation on camera)

Summary:

Casper was caught in 4K during call, and MC lives for it. They banter lots, tease each other, Casper's barking and begging.

!Warning!

Not Enterely Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Slight Canon Adjustments, Alternative Timeline, Canon Typical Angst and Mentions of Death/dying/etc (but nothing bad really happens, I promise) (at least not in this fic) (this is pure smut with just a sprinkle of warnings)

Read this work on Archive of Our Own.

"You're blushing, Casper," Caha smiled, her head tilted as she watched him sputtering on the other side of the screen. Somehow the certainty of being seen made his usually perfectly coordinated limbs stiff and awkward.

"…What are you wearing?" he managed in a strangled voice, habitually avoiding answering unwelcome statements.

"Oh, this?" Caha tugged on one of the straps of her top, and her breasts jiggled right in front of camera. Casper wanted to look away, but couldn't, eyes glued to the display. "Laundry day clothes. Be thankful I bothered to put on anything at all."

Did it mean she could've potentially been sitting there naked..? He tried really hard not to think about it, but failed miserably. A stupid thing, really. Not that he never reaped someone during the intercourse, or never saw other bodies naked—both things happened to him plenty of times. The problem was, those things happened with strangers he had no feelings for whatsoever, and so was able to stay perfectly calm and composed the entire time.

And Caha, as much as it pained Casper to admit it, wasn't such a stranger. She was a nuisance and a sole failure in his outstanding career, and, fuck, why was she leaning closer..?

Casper straightened up, squeezing himself into the back of his armchair, watching Caha's chest practically pressing against the camera as she fished for something. He never knew she had a mole there, right in between. Perfect spot for kissing.

"Lyusha says hiiii," Caha hugged the cat to her stomach and waved Lyusha's paw.

"Hi, Lyusha," Casper answered weakly, casually waving back.

No, he wasn't at all disappointed with the creature's appearance. Or the fact that she was now babied to pieces, taking all of Caha's attention.

In fact he could stand not being watched for a minute or two.

Losing a glove in process, his right hand slid under the desk, brushing against the throbbing tent of his pants. Hells. It was infuriating how little Caha needed to rile him up.

Casper watched her scratching Lyusha's belly, breasts jiggling with each movement of her arms.

Caha had plenty of moles on her face, but he never knew… Right in between, huh..?

He propped his chin, leaning on his left against the table while his right hand was quietly pulling down the zipper. Unlike certain someone, he was dressed properly for the call. And now regretted it a little: sweatpants would've been easier to get around. Still, he managed. Without the constraints of tight clothes, his erection freely stretched the boxers.

Casper took a quick look at the screen, but Caha was still preoccupied with petting purring Lyusha sprawled on her lap with the most annoying baby voice accompaniment possible. 'Oh, who's the cutest sweetest little thing in the whole wide world' and 'yes, my darling baby angel, you guessed right, it's you' were spilling from her like they cost nothing, flowing right into his ears together with the endless kissy noises, like she was saying that to him.

She wasn't, though, and Casper couldn't help but look at Caha, voicelessly begging her to spare at least a crumb of that attention and affection to him.

She didn't notice, of course.

She never did.

Casper hid the lower part of his face under his left hand and took a first tentative stroke, still through clothes, lips tightly pursed to not let out the slightest sound, eyes on the screen, on that fucking mole, thinking only about how it would feel on his lips. Caha was so warm that one time he touched her. So soft. Even through his gloves, Casper felt that.

His lips would probably melt off on spot if he were to kiss her. Run his palms along her curves. Squeeze her chest, fingers sinking into soft flesh. Bite her collarbone, then neck, taking in the pulse of her life beating against his lips.

Now he could only bite on his glove and swallow down the swears as he slowly stroked himself. Quiet. He needed to keep quiet.

Caha paused, then smiled, eyes sparkling.

"I was expecting a pretty please, but that's better."

She slipped out of straps of her top and then yanked it down, breasts bouncing free of fabric. Casper watched her, breath caught in his throat, mouth suddenly dry. Caha scooped them into her palms, fondling herself carelessly, fingers digging into flesh. That mole was there again, deep brown in jarring contrast against Caha's pale skin.

"Well, how about it?" she asked, looking at him with a smile. "How do you like your bones, Grimmy? Are they up to your distinguished taste?"

He tugged his left glove away with his teeth and ruffled his hair, shaking his head that felt two sizes too big all of the sudden.

"You really want to see me barking at you like a dog, don't you?" Casper sighed helplessly.

"Maybe. Is that the only thing you want to do with me?"

"…Hardly. If anything, I want so much, I can barely think human thoughts."

Caha let out a satisfied laugh as she plopped back into the pillows.

"Not a very good boy, are you now, Grimmy?" she teased, finger circling around her nipple. "With many, many naughty thoughts in that fluffy white head of yours, tsk, tsk, tsk."

"And who's at fault for that?" He couldn't help but glare at her, grating his teeth.

"Yours, of course," Caha scoffed in a matter of factly manner, her chin raised high. "You could've been fucking me like an animal all you wanted, no thoughts, head empty, brain smooth and unwrinkled, but instead you chose this. Now suffer in the bed you've made. Or rather, in a chair. Touch yourself with those beautiful cold hands of yours, thinking about how mine would've felt. Warm. And soft. Very, very soft. No calluses, no rough spots. Wrapping around all of your length, one atop another, stroking, caressing and rubbing you all over."

"Hah… hngh…"

Casper choked on his suddenly thickened spit. With Caha voice in his ears, saying stuff like that as she played with her tits, watching him masturbating, his body tingled all over, nipples tender and taut, hips thrusting into his hand by themselves.

"Please… Talk more, Sunshine… Please… I want…I want to hear more…"

She sighed in a way that made him tremble, then her right hand slid down again.

"It's not just my hands that are warm, you know? It should be much hotter inside my mouth. I'm not sure if I'd swallow you whole, you're kinda…a handful, in more ways than one, but the tip? I would've circled it with my tongue and taken it in. You know those ridges at the roof of the mouth? Right behind the front teeth? Bet they'd feel good against the skin, won't they?"

"…Yes, yes they would."

Hot sweet mouth. That sharp tongue of hers gliding all over him. She would definitely be all teethy about it, just to make him quiver in anticipation of a bite.

Hands on him, warm touch of them. Handling him with that tender carelessness of hers. Soft, then firm, then soft again. Light scratches.

Her face, her eyes, looking at him from the bottom up with that mischievous glint to remind him that she may be on her knees now, but it's him who's getting played. Defenseless and at her mercy. Getting the desired relief only with her permission.

"You're so pretty, Casper. So, so pretty." Caha whispered, words round and sticky inside her mouth, r's rolling from her tongue right into his head like pebbles, disturbing his already unstable mind.

"Can't…take your eyes away…can you?" he scoffed weakly, trying to shake the picture away before he'd start begging out loud.

"Can't."

"Knew…it. Ha. Good…you're finally admitting it. Told you…I'm charming…and irresistible…for your kind. Hah. Hngh. Fuck…"

He bit on his lip, squirming in his chair, close, so close…

"I'm trying, believe me. You know…there is another hot and wet place beside my mouth I can put you in? One that'll take you whole. It's practically dripping now, I'll have to squeeze my shorts after this call, really, what are you doing with me… Better then, what you're not doing with me. When you could've. Honestly. You. Ugh."

He knew what she was talking about. Of course he knew.

"Caha…"

"It's hard to do it dry handed, isn't it? You're so sensitive, Casper. Bet it's grating to you without any lube, huh? I could've helped with that. Maybe. Depends on your attitude."

"Please…"

"No. More."

"Woof..?"

"Still no. More."

"Sunshine…please…"

"Please what? Use words."

"Please…help me. Please… I…I want…"

"Yes?"

"I want…this. You. I want…you…so much, I'm going…crazy. You're fucking up… my life…and my head…and my job…and I still… I… I… Caha… Sunshine… Please."

"…You're telling all this, but still aren't coming. Even though I have perfectly toasty dripping pussy to put you in. Swallow you whole and squeeze the life out of you. Or death. Or soul. Or something. I'm sitting here, wet heaving, frothing at my privates, begging to be stuffed. Begging, Casper. Contracting on nothing but air. Achingly empty inside. All those nice wet folds and pulsing muscles left unused when they could've been wrapped around your stupid pretty pink cock. Hot and tight, so, so, sooooo tight. Milking every last drop out of you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

That was the only thing in his head as Caha spoke, words and images blending together, all the fantasies about her he played on repeat swarming in at once, flickering under his eyelids in sporadic fragmented flashes: Caha with her legs spread wide, demanding to fill her; her again, palm pressed against his chest as she straddled him with that annoying cute irresistible smirk on her lips, her wet folds sliding against his cock, covering him in her juices; her again, hands on his shoulders, palm cradling the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin as he thrust inside her; her again, pushing his head between her thighs, fingers raking through his hair before grabbing a fistful of it right at the roots, the tug just the right amount of painful to feel pleasure; her again, eyes closed, teething on her lower lip, all her soft flesh and curves trembling while he mindlessly beat into her like an animal in heat; her again, riding his face, trembling and moaning, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place; her again, his teeth on her neck, biting and licking and biting again, leaving possessive marks in his wake, mine, mine, mine. Her body, her soul, her heart, everything, all of her, only his.

Nothing but her on his mind.

Just like she wanted.

Casper came and choked, gasping on air, dizzy and breathless, lost between fantasies and reality, not sure which was what.

Caha looked at him from the screen, head tilted, pouting, her cheeks bulged.

"Congratulations. Good for you. I still think I would've done a better job. Made much less of a mess. And you could've cuddled with me afterwards, and I would've kept you warm. Humph."

She turned her face away, but soon looked back at him from the corner of her eye, then turned even further, chin raised high, harrumphing again.

How could someone be simultaneously so stinking cute and so fuckable? It was still a mystery to him.

Casper leaned onto the back of his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, evening his breathing and heartbeat.

Caha was so incredibly wrong about that one thing: she was the one who made all this mess in the first place. Unceremoniously squeezing into his life, into his head, carelessly breaking and destroying all the rules he upheld, all the things he thought were right, all the plans he had for the future, and triumphantly taking the main place among the rubble of his disorderly mind, crowning herself as she took all the space inside it, leaving no room for other thoughts.

And a week later he was supposed to claim his rightful rewards for winning the bet and ferry her soul to the afterlife, never see her again, and turn back to the life he had before he ever knew her.

Yeah.

She couldn't have made a bigger mess if she tried.

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radioactive-earthshine · 28 days ago

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/F Fandom: Young Justice (Comics) Relationship: Greta Hayes/Cissie King-Jones

Characters: Cissie King-Jones, Greta Hayes, Bonnie King Jones, Gaius Marcus (DCU), Billy Hayes, Bart Allen

Additional Tags: alternative universe, casper au, supernatural romance, Demonic Possession, Child Abuse, Bonnie's canon abuse of Cissie, 1990s, child stars, Mentions of Suicide, Canon Typical Violence, High School, Intrusive Thoughts, supernatural horror, Horror, Homophobia, takes place in 1997

Words: 17,210 Chapters:4/?

Summary

In a last bid to try to repair her shattered relationship with her daughter Cissie, Bonnie purchases an old mansion on a hill. Cissie wants to believe that her mother has changed, she wants to believe that she can move on from being Arrowette, but it's not just houses that are haunted and sometimes the dead aren't quite what they seem.

Soon after moving into the Hayes Manor, an old mansion and site of a gruesome murder that took place in 1948 Cissie finds herself befriending one of the victims and together they find something that might be more than friendship - all the while Cissie unravels the mystery of 1948 while juggling trying to be a normal teenager.

Should be easy, right?

Excerpt

Bonnie drummed her fingertips on the wheel as the weight of what her daughter said hit her. “It’s not the same world I grew up in,” she sighed. “There’s a lot more craziness in the world. Supervillains used to be isolated to one or two wackos per hero, now it's quadruple that. Now it's cool to be Doomsday on the playground. It's normal business to capitalize on someone's death - make damn video games about it and rent his snuff film at Blockbuster for a buck ninety-nine. The depravity of the world is sickening Cis, I just wanted to give you the tools to protect you from it.” Cissie had a different recollection of her mother’s motives and she bit her tongue from reminding Bonnie that the second she got her father’s insurance money she enrolled her in a revolving door of schools and lessons ranging from ballet to karate and twelve other martial arts during a time when all she wanted to do was grieve. She could do a pirouette while balancing a stack of books on her head and end it with a kick strong enough to shatter collarbones all while reciting Shakespeare and Ovid. It was a time of both isolation and suffocating control where she had no sense of self or autonomy other than what name she wanted her mother to use when she criticized her ‘performances’. She bit the words back and instead she choked out an awkward cough when she saw a decrepit wooden sign with peeling green paint peering around unkempt juniper bushes. Even though they were faded, the letters were clear in their white cursive script. H A Y E S M A N O R “That’s the house right mom?” Cissie asked and Bonnie slowed down as she turned a sharp corner. The house was finally visible then, dark and lonely, nestled on several acres of ill-kept land. If Cissie wasn’t actively looking for the house, she might have missed it in the swaths of colorful trees and green ivy crawling over it.

Cissie frowned. She expected old, she expected secluded, but she did not expect decrepit and totally isolated from humanity. “That’s the house?” she said, doubt dripping between each word. “I told you it needed a little landscaping done girlie. Trust me, she’s beautiful on the inside.” Bonnie pulled up next to two moving vans that had been waiting for her. “Good, they got started already!” Cissie still couldn’t help but stare at the wall of ivy that made the house look like a dungeon from one of Bart’s video games. Each window was like black ice cast against the green, but in one she could have sworn she saw movement. Brushing it off as seeing one of the curtains, Cissie got out of the car.

#cissie king jones #greta hayes #young justice #gretacissie #cissiegreta #my writing #happy halloween #supernatural romance #writers on tumblr

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ch3rry-earrings · 11 months ago

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WELCOME TO MY BLOG

hello! my names cas or casper wtv u wanna call be honestly. i'm pretty new to nsfw tumblr writing but i love writing and i LOVE writing filthy fucking smut. i probably wont commit to multiple chapter stories but i can probably commit to au's and i'll do my best to give you decent length stories/blurbs. MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! i love getting requests and writing things for people, please read what i will and won't write and who i will and wont write for :)

BOUNDARIES who i WILL write for ; GNR (for any era of the og lineup, esp 80's-90's) ((izzy and steven are personal favorites of mine)) Mötley crüe Dave Mustaine (THE E WILL NOT STAY ORANGE HELP ME. I AM GIVING UP.) will also write member x member i love tons of bands and would try to write for them but i'm autistic and i fixate on these so i wont write for anyone else (may add more people to the list of who i can write for down the line! (PLEASE REQUEST IZZY STRADLIN I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.) what i will NOT write for ; ddlg / age play , water-sports (pisskink) , scat , no proship stuff at all , suicide , ocs , (cnc is thin ice cause it can look different to different people, will only do if explicitly asked for and given a guide on how they want it done but i wont do anything thats super hardcore) most kinks i will do but i always reserve the right to refuse requests and such. requests will get done by how much motivation i have for each I DO MALE READER TOO! as i am a male reader myself click the button that says " REQUEST / ASK! <3 " to request or ask me anything, anonymously or not.

MASTER LIST! SMUT (will mostly write smut) ANGST (not my favorite to write but if you set a good scene for me i can do it) FLUFF IN DRAFTS Izzy Stradlin pretty tied up Want a cigarette? head canons Steven Adler baking cookies headcanons Axl Rose headcanons cemetery date Slash in drafts Duff McKagen christmas headcanons Dave Mustaine in drafts Mick Mars loving it loud Vince neil in drafts Nikki Sixx in drafts

also follow the tag caspersspook to just see when i post in general if you'd like :) (includes random things, art possibly, updates on writing ect.) i am so pissed some of the coloring didnt work wtf tumblr

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infinialtairs · 4 months ago

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NOAHOWLZ MAKING REELS? SHOCKING NEWS (/j) I have never liked doing vertical 1080p because it feels so much awkward to do than normal video 1080p...BUT! i need to make something simple and not too much work (I'm already workaholic enough) BUT YEAH, uh...more canon and oc stuff i suppose? Casper doesn't wanna leave from my head and it's getting worse with Casper and Rayman together... (also you can assume that it's Fakeman instead, i don't really mind one way or the other, Casper would be a dumbass)

They're both little idiots (most of the time Casper) but i love them so much, i actively hate it

Literally me right now:

#doodle #reels #video #clean sketch #rayman #captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk rayman #fakeman #captain laserhawk oc #fan oc #get out of my head #i'm hyperfixating again

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autisticwriterblog · 6 months ago

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Autistic Remedyverse Headcanons: Casper Darling

Favourite Ways to Stim: Running his fingers over his knitted sweaters. Cleaning his glasses. Humming and singing to himself.

Hyper- or hyposensitive? Hyposensitive most of the time. Casper has always been a very sensory-seeking person. Loud noises, bright lights and strong smells or flavours have never bothered him, and in fact he enjoys them. Unless he’s having a shutdown, at which point most of his senses become hypersensitive instead.

Meltdowns or shutdowns? Shutdowns. He becomes less and less talkative, stims more visibly and starts rocking himself back and forth. If he has a choice, Casper will relocate somewhere quiet and isolated until he feels better.

Special Interest(s): His coworkers are surprised to learn that Casper is obsessed with working out (probably because they’ve never seen him shirtless and noticed how muscular he is), knowing all about fitness and muscles and dietary things.

Social Issues: Casper infodumps a lot, often cutting off the other person he speaks to because he struggles to tell when it is his time to speak. He also struggles with reading other people’s facial expressions, and sarcasm often goes right over his head.

Communication: He had a speech delay as a child and was nonverbal until he was four. Casper often goes semi-verbal during or after a shutdown.

Canon details that stood out to me: In the presentation where Emily walks into the room, Casper becomes very socially awkward, suggesting he struggles with conversation when he wasn’t expecting it. He seems clueless about how awkward his assistants feel being forced to take part in his presentations.

#control #casper darling #autistic casper darling #control remedy #control 2019 #control game #autistic headcanon

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hattafan2593 · 1 month ago

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For @mpsansy

#hattafan2593 #casper the friendly ghost #casper #casper mcfadden #the ghostly trio #stretch mcfadden #stinkie mcfadden #fatso mcfadden #dialogue based on episode of Steven universe #head canon stretch smokes #the trio do genuinely love Casper #but they aren’t used to dealing with children living or dead #or with ghosts that are different from them #they didn’t sign up to be parents and they didn’t expect having a little nephew to take care of in their afterlives #set before the mcfaddens meet the Harvey’s #mpsansy

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a-flappy-bat · 1 year ago

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Meditation /Astral projection/ I liked the yoga pose so I went with it

(No glasses close up under break)

#jesse x darling #jesse faden #casper darling #dr. darling #remedy control #control (2019)#head canons a plenty #my art #idk how to colors so purple.

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bug-bites · 1 year ago

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one of my fav things to read/write is a f!reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley, where the reader is almost exactly like ghost. I'm talking full black mask, (maybe legally dead) few words, silent, callsign generally spooky like Reaper or Phantom, and I was wondering if you would wanna do that?

Usually I have reader as a childhood friend or adopted sibling of Roach, which is why roach is so comfortable around ghost. He's just used to it. If it's pure fluff or platonic that's completely fine, and if you don't wanna do that it's also fine!! I just thought I might as well shoot my shot :)

Your an amazing writer, have an awesome day <3

seeing double

cw: canon-typical violence, breif (pun intended) mention of ghost having skeleton boxers (nothing like explicit though i dont even know if this needs to be mentioned tbh but better safe than sorry), ghost gets shot womp womp, angst w/ a happy ending, so many military inaccuracies, barely proofread :P

pairing: platonic!simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader, gary 'roach' sanderson & reader

characters: simon 'ghost' riley, gary 'roach' sanderson (price, gaz and soap mentioned v briefly!)

authors note: omg you are so sweet thank you so much!! sorry this took so long i've been so busy with things, i hope you don't mind that i got a bit silly with this one and basically wrote a fic in jot notes 😭 (ALSO ROACH MENTION!! I LOVE MY BBYG THANK YOU ANON <3)

when you first met ghost he genuinely thought this was a joke. the balaclava, the whole death motif, your callsign being phantom which is literally synonymous with ghost, even your attitude was so eerily similar to him. it was like looking in a mirror

it didn't help when he tilted his head you mirrored your actions

i think he wouldn't gravitate immediately to you, it's not that he didn't like you he just felt a bit odd with how similar you two were, in all honesty he was probably slightly unnerved by you

soap and gaz definitely crack jokes about you being the second coming of ghost or something dumb like that

whenever anyone is referring to you and ghost and phantom it was always "the ghosts" or "ghost and girl ghost" which pissed you OFF

roach cant count all the times you have ranted to him about how everyone treats ghost like he came up with your whole aesthetic and you copied him when you have been doing this for YEARS before you even met ghost!

"and everyone acts like he invented skeletons and being legally dead! how self centered do you have to be to act like you invented skeleton iconography?! THEYRE SKELETONS. THATS LIKE BASIC HUMAN ANATOMY. and its always men taking the credit- god its so stupid! i did shit this first and how do i know that he isn't copying me huh?? did we ever think of that?? and ghost is such a basic ass fucking name like really. ghost? bet the only reason he wears that mask is to cover up his casper sized forehead."

roach knows that you're annoyed and you probably aren't trying to be super mean- maybe you don't even think ghosts forehead is casper sized! but hey, he isn't trying to argue while you look like you're about to rip someone's head off

instead he opts for calmly signing words of comfort lest you tear ghosts head off (with a few minor corrections)

"yes roach i know phantoms are pretty much the same as ghosts but that's not the point. you're basically my brother. you have to be on my side. that's how it works."

its good you and roach get along with each other. however, since you are just so similar with someone whos name starts with s and ends with imon "ghost" riley he becomes friends with roach quite easily and rants to him too

"she thinks shes so fookin crea'ive but you know wha? she isnt. bet ive been in SAS longer than her. wheres 'er skull tattoo at?? cause i got a whole sleeve done almost a decade ago! she isnt the first to come up wi' this. see, i get youre friends wi' 'er but truth is she di'nt come up wi' all o' this 'erself and she isn't half as dedicated as me. i even got skeleton boxers! she got those??- wait no dont answer tha' i dont wan' tha' image in my head."

for the first month or two whenever you see each other its clear you two do not get along.

roach tried to crack a joke but if anything it just made you hate ghost more

"hey, phantom. what's got two legs and bleeds?" "half a dog." you and ghost respond in unison

the rest of the day you dont even acknowledge each other. price makes a joke about how "you both are acting like you killed someone" which you mutter a small "oh im going to that's for sure" under your breath

safe to say you had a long rant to roach about how now not only is he stealing your whole persona, he's taking your jokes now too

you think roach would be torn between choosing sides but no this man loves every second of it. its so petty- so stupid he just needs to see how long you two idiots will keep butting heads

you mention how you were planning on getting a red mask? he's going up to ghost being like "hey, ghost did i ever tell you red is totally your colour? you know what actually? you should get a red mask!"

you both walk into the next briefing with your new masks and you couldn't be more pissed

to make matters worse you both are teamed up for the next mission. something about stopping a major arms dealer but ghost is the one getting his hands dirty. all you need to do is get into security, guide him through the complex enough for him to grab intel and leave

its simple. you've done it a billion times before, same with ghost. the first half goes fine. you both get in, he grabs the intel and is ready to head out, both of you speaking only when necessary.

minor issue- actually major issue, getting out wasn't as smooth. somehow ghost ended up shot right as he's notifying you that he's almost out. you hear the gunshot ring out, a grunt and scuffling.

"phantom to ghost. how copy."

your voice rings out, an eerie silence following after

"ghost. how copy."

you repeat again, this time earning a response

"m' alive. shot in the leg. bullet went clean through, makin a torniquet as we speak" he grunts back. you have never been happier to hear his stupid manchester accent "keep it that way."

if past you knew those four words directed at ghost would come out of your mouth, you're pretty sure you would've stolen a tank and driven it off a cliff immediately with ghost in it too probably

but now is not the time hotwiring a tank and locating a cliff would take too long anyways, you guide him out, occasionally telling him some stupid fun fact to make sure he's still there or just to keep him alert

"did you know that jellyfish have one hole for their mouth and asshole?" "these get more concerning the more you tell me." "most koalas have chlamydia." "alrigh', 'nuff of that. fun facts are s'pposed to be fun, you know that right?" "learning is fun."

this earns a chuckle from him which he quickly covers up with a cough

he makes it out alive, busted up that's for sure but alive nonetheless

you hook his arm over your shoulder, talking about everything and anything to keep him conscious. he's going to listen anyways so might as well make the most of it

"you're not as bad as i thought you'd be, 'specially for a copy cat." he says after you tell him yet another bizarre animal fact "i got a red mask first by the way" "piss off. this is why i don't compliment you" he rolls his eyes, for once not out of annoyance "i wear it better anyways." "sure, sure. believe what you want, but just know that i'm the cooler one." "you also are shit at making tourniquets" "so you finally admit that i'm cooler." no amount of eyerolling or snappy comebacks can hide your grin at this point. you silently thank your past self for choosing to wear a mask all the time "you're quite bold for someone who got shot in the leg"

once you two get back, practically everyone is surprised how all the deadly glares and colorful insults muttered under heavy sighs between you two have now been replaced with playful banter and empty threats with no murderous intent behind them

price heard you laughing with ghost followed up with you telling ghost "they will never find your body" which did scare the shit out of him but it made ghost laugh so hard he nearly pissed himself

price made sure to check that ghost was in fact alive for the next few days, just to make sure you were joking

when asked about it both of you just shrug and reply "trauma bonding."

roach, although disappointed with the absence of drama is glad to see two of the most special people in his life getting along bros just sad he cant be an instigator anymore

and as soon as ghost comes back from leave, he's got double the scary dog privileges he originally had

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