Part 12 of my poll adventure fic. Links: the beginning, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11.
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It wasn't like he had to stay in the dark on this secret. He could just eavesdrop on the class and figure out why they wanted him gone.
The only reason Dan could think of was his disguise failing. They knew he was a ghost.
But... a look at his distorted reflection in the waxed hallway floor under his feet showed a normal human. Hair and eye colors purposefully unlike Dan himself or Danny Fenton. Green eyes instead of red or blue. Light blond hair instead of flames or black hair.
And the humans couldn't have sensed him. He had successfully blended in back when he'd disguised himself as his past self before.
So what was it?
With a quick glance around to make sure the hallway was completely empty, he turned invisible and intangible, and flew through the wall.
Over half of the kids were gathered around the windows. A loud murmur of conversation filled the room, making it harder to hear individual sentences.
'Phantom' was said a lot. Phantom being cool. Phantom fighting. Phantom being dreamy.
He did not need to hear that last one.
"Settle down, class. Settle down," Lancer said over the hum of conversation. "The ghost is being dealt with, and Mr. Fantom can catch up on classwork when he returns."
Dash raised his hand as he turned from the window, saying, "Can I help him catch up?!"
"No, he doesn't need any of your h—!" Sam began.
"Shut up, Manson!" Paulina said. "I should get to help him, too—right Mr. Lancer?"
The rest of the class started talking at once.
"The Comedy of Errors! Everyone sit down," Lancer ordered.
The sound of talking transitioned to footsteps and scraping chair legs as the children returned to their seats.
Once it was quiet, Lancer said, "You may catch him up, Mr. Baxter. But only if there is something to catch him up on. Now, let's return to the lesson."
Still hovering near the ceiling, Dan thought on the confusing mess he'd just overheard.
It had been hard to tell when someone was talking about Phantom or when they were talking about Fantom, or about Fenton.
He'd assumed they were all talking about his past self's ghost persona when they had been at the window.
And Lancer must have been talking about Dan when he'd mentioned catching up on class, but the sudden change in subject between Phantom and Fantom was strange.
But the following argument didn't seem to be about Dan. But it also didn't make sense for his past self's human side or ghost side.
Sam must have been thinking of his past self. Her and Tucker's earlier suspicion toward Dan proved she wouldn't feel protective toward him.
But Dash and Paulina wouldn't have volunteered to help Danny Fenton, and they had shared barely a few words with Dan's disguise so far. But they couldn't have been talking about Danny Phantom because he wasn't a student!
It would be so much easier to tell who was talking about who if the three personas didn't all have nearly the same name!
...Wait.
Dan had decided on going by 'Dan Fantom' because 'Phantom' resonated with him. Phantom was the name he had gone by ever since the portal accident, and it had followed him faithfully through the following decade.
Like when he had first decided on going by 'Danny Phantom' after the accident, when he decided to finish school, he'd wanted a name similar enough to his own to recognize easily. He hadn't wanted to get used to a meaningless, completely random new name.
And, since Jazz had been the only exception to people not noticing the similarity between 'Fenton' and 'Phantom', he figured he would also remain unknown.
But perhaps he had been mistaken.
Maybe the humans were smarter than he had given them credit for.
...Maybe the entire class thought of him and his past self as a singular being.
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As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...
It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.
I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?
And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.
This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.
Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.
Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.
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Prompt 115
“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire.
They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him.
“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.”
The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone.
Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”
“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.”
Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???”
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They’re Beautiful
time skip!Iwaizumi Hajime x afab!reader | 18+ content | 1,137 words | established relationship, kinda rough sex, kind of hand fetish i guess, very mild choking. Iwaizumi finally understands your obsession with his hands.
Iwaizumi Hajime never had the largest frame in his social circle and he was well aware of that. Yeah, he was muscular with broad shoulders and it wasn’t like he was short either, but there was always someone taller or broader than him. What he did have though, was the largest and prettiest hands that you’d ever seen; something that you’d never neglected to remind him. Truth be told, the ‘big’ part was the thing you’d told him most often, but he knew you found the pretty as well.
He never really understood your obsession with his hands though. They were just hands after all. Of course, without them he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball, something he very much loved doing. So yes of course he liked them too. But it was clear to him that it was for very different reasons that you liked them. And to a very different extend. You’d always make sure to tend to his hands after a game. You played with his fingers when the two of you were hanging out, relaxing. He even noticed you taking pictures once or twice, when he’d held your hand in his.
He didn’t really understand it. At least not until the two of you started getting more intimate. That’s when he suddenly started seeing his own hands in a different light.
He had big hands alright. He noticed it the first time he cupped your breast in his hands. The way his fingers pressed softly against your skin made his mouth dry. He’d swallowed hard as he drank in the sight. He really had big hands, he noticed again, once when he held onto your hips when you were on top of him, clothed pussy riding his jean clad thigh.
Iwaizumi started actually understanding the liking you’d taken to his hands, but he didn’t entirely get it, before that one time when you grabbed the base of his hand with both of yours, lifting it to your lips. The two of you had been intimate more than once at this point, but not once had he experienced anything quite like watching you guiding his hand to your lips. Like watching the passionate way you wrapped your lips around his fingers. Your gaze had locked on his and kept him in a delirious chokehold as your tongue swirled around his digits, effectively covering them in saliva. His cock jumped at that point. His hand looked good in yours. It looked good against your skin. It looked so utterly delicious in your mouth. Maybe he actually began to really get it.
“I bet your hands would look good around my throat,” you told him once and forcibly suppressed a chuckle when his eyes widened and his adams apple bobbed in his throat. You’d crawled up in his lap as he was sat on the bed after a shower. Both of your lips were swollen from heated kisses shared. “Do you want to try?” His eyes searched your face even as his cock throbbed underneath you. He wanted to, that much was clear, but he wasn’t just going to assume. He wasn’t like that.
“Are you—“
“Sure?” You finished his question for him. “Hajime, please. I want to feel it. Don’t be shy, you can be a little rough if you want,” you said and took his hands in yours, guiding them from your hips and up. Up. Up. Iwaizumi watched in awe as you placed his hands against your throat.
“I—“
“Hajime,” you all but whined, rolling your hips against him. And at that point, Iwaizumi’s gaze flickered to his hands as he let them slide up further against your skin. Yeah. His hands were big. And you were right. They did look good against your neck. At that moment, Iwaizumi thought he finally completely understood. They were beautiful. But not because they were his or in themselves. They were beautiful in unity with your body. As if they were made for your body. It got it. He understood. That’s how it started.
Now he had you on all fours on the bed, cock buried inside of you. His rhythm had your eyes rolling back in your head and his gaze fell on his hands against your hips. They were beautiful. His gaze flicked up to where you threw your head back against a particularly harsh thrust of his hips.
“You said I could be a little rough, didn’t you?” Iwaizumi asked. Even now, as he found it so hard to resist, he wanted to hear you say it.
“Y-yes—“ your voice broke off and a moan tore from your throat. “Haji— Please—“ and that was what it took before you felt it. Iwaizumi saw himself moving before he realized that he was. It was as if he was in a trance when his fingers threaded through your hair and pushed.
“Haji—“ Your arms gave out as Iwaizumi forced your body to bend further, face smushed into the pillow. Your loud moans filled the air around you, as Iwaizumi changed the angle of his thrusts, to go even deeper.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “Look at me,” he urged and loosened his hold to let you turn your head further. You looked up at him, out of the corner of your eye, and even in this state, you couldn’t get past how beautiful he looked. His eyes were curiously fixated on his hand now resting against the side of your face.
“Hajime,” you babbled and he swore he could have cum right then and there. He didn’t. He managed to hold back, even as a low groan rumbled in his chest and he pressed down a little harder. “Harder.”
Iwaizumi obliged. Happily at that, with his gaze locked onto your face on the pillow and his hands against it. He rocked into you harder. Cock aching for release when a little cripple of drool slipped from the corner of your mouth. Iwaizumi relentlessly fucked into you, and watched up come undone by him. He watched your eyes rolling back, your tongue lolling out and your saliva slipping down on the pillow. He bullied his cock into your tight warmth until the both of you reached your climax and through it. Even then, his fingers twitched against your face.
With his thumb, he swept the drool off your chin, and he knew that he finally understood. He really did understand your obsession with his hands after all. And after that one time, Iwaizumi was never able to see his hands the same way again, because whenever he tried, he pictured them against your skin. He pictured them pushing your face into the mattress. He pictured them around your throat or with his fingers in your mouth. But he had to admit, that that truly was a beautiful sight.
tags: @prettyiwa
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